#just been thinking a lot about these two lately

[cherienymphe]

A Family Affair

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, age gap, plus size!reader, infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: It's no secret that Rafe doesn't care for his stepmother, so when he suddenly starts being nice to you following his father's neglect, you're relieved to think that you can finally start acting like a family.

⭑

You sighed to yourself as the sound of Ward’s light snores faded behind you, your feet carrying you down the hall as you sought something to drink. It was late, and while you should’ve been asleep alongside the rest of the house, you were wide awake. Your thoughts strayed to your husband, and a familiar pang made your chest ache. Per usual, you attempted to ignore it, but the late hour and solitude prevented you from doing so.

Ward was so busy with business as of late, and while you knew what you were getting into when you married him, you hadn’t anticipated just how often you’d find yourself alone and without him. It wasn’t so bad the first few times you found yourself scarcely seeing him for weeks on end—business eventually letting up and allowing him to spend more time with you before the cycle repeated—but it started to get old after a while. The constant back and forth and ebb and flow of your relationship…

“Don’t you like the nice house? The fancy cars? The semi-annual trips?” was what he’d asked you one day when you brought it up.

At your reluctant nod, he’d merely given you a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“You know it’s never temporary,” he’d murmured against your skin, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Work just pulls me away, sometimes.”

That was almost a year ago, and you were even less used to it, now.

The lifestyle made up for it in some ways, the sex in others, but you never thought you’d find yourself thinking that it was your stepchildren who really brought you so much joy on those days where you wondered if this relationship was fulfilling enough. You smiled into your glass at the thought of them, shaking your head as you remembered something Sarah had said the day before. They were far from perfect—one more so than the other two—but it was in a way that was almost endearing. Most of the time…

You swallowed down a sigh along with your drink as you thought of a familiar dirty blond.

Rafe Cameron was Ward’s only son, and such a title brought along lots of expectations that Rafe ever failed to live up to. You still couldn’t quite tell if Ward expected so much of him or if Rafe just refused to apply himself. You settled on something in between, a little bit of both of that from both of them. It made you sad, sometimes, and over the past few years you’d done your best to help and be there for Rafe, but all of your effort seemed to be in vain.

The twenty year old just didn’t like you…and you wondered if he ever would.

He was never shy about his feelings regarding you and on some level you appreciated the transparency, but on another it did sting a bit. There were moments where you wondered if he simply thought you weren’t good enough for Ward. You quickly learned how shallow Rafe could be, and it wasn’t like you were the thinnest woman out there—far from it, in fact. It definitely wouldn’t surprise you to learn he felt his father could do better in that department, but for some reason, you just didn’t buy that excuse.

The looks he gave you and the cold manner in which he talked to you sometimes made you feel like it was something far more personal than something as mundane as weight. It was moments like these where you realized just how much Rafe’s behavior got to you, and not because it hurt particularly bad, but mostly because you didn’t understand it.

You found yourself entertaining the same kind of thoughts a few nights later when face to face with Rafe, declining his ‘suggestion’ of throwing a little ‘get together’.

The younger man wasn’t happy with the discussion, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek—a tell-tale sign of his annoyance you’d come to learn— as he eyed you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. With a soft scoff, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the back of the couch. You didn’t appreciate the small curve of his lips.

“You realize I'm an adult, right…? And that I technically don’t have to ask you permission for anything…right…?”

You licked your own lips, briefly glancing away with a sigh.

“Is that why you brought it up to me instead of just telling your father what you’re going to do?”

His expression shifted, the smile dropping from his lips, and you watched the way his jaw ticked.

“Ward would flat out tell you no, and you know it. I’m simply telling you no more than ten people. The last ‘get together’ you had here is still a little fresh in all of our minds, and you’re lucky I’m compromising at all after Wheezie found a condom in her room,” you reminded him. “There’s a reason you’re having this conversation with me and not Ward.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared, but he otherwise said nothing.

His silence gave you the opportunity to let out a sigh, stepping towards him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes closely followed the movement, used to him watching your every move. It was like Rafe didn’t trust your very presence, something you were sure he’d be over by now, but time had yet to prove you right.

“I’m on your side, Rafe. You understand that, right?”

He merely looked away from you, and you continued.

“I don’t enjoy you and Ward being at odds. You and I are a whole other conversation, but you and your father? I’m trying to help you help yourself, and you just seem to fight me every step of the way-.”

“You’re not my mother,” the blond coldly interrupted, making you swallow.

It wasn’t his sentiments that surprised you, but that he was actually saying it aloud. You long knew and accepted that Rafe didn’t—and probably wouldn’t ever—see you as such, but you were taken aback by him saying it and also saying it to your face.

“You’re just some thick thirty something piece of ass my dad married because hey…it’s not socially acceptable for a fifty-year old man to marry some twenty-five year old, so a thirty-eight year old is the next best thing he can get without being called a weirdo.”

He said all of this with a casual shrug, throwing his hands up, and you blinked.

You watched him as he straightened himself, slowly approaching you as he sniffed, eyeing you in a way that—for the first time ever—actually made you want to hide away from the world.

“Don’t worry about the party. I’ll just have it somewhere else…”

Rafe didn’t give you time to respond, brushing by you and leaving you to mull over his harsh words alone.

“Oh!”

You clutched your water bottle to you, eyes wide as they landed on Kelce of all people in your kitchen. The dark skinned young man was merely getting a snack, nothing that caused for any kind of alarm, but you simply hadn’t even known he was here. His presence surprised you, and clearly yours surprised him by the way he also looked at you with wide eyes. Although you didn’t understand why.

This was your house, after all…

“How long have you been in the house?” you wondered, moving to the sink to refill your bottle.

“Uh…only about twenty minutes,” was his answer.

You nodded at that, understanding why you hadn’t been privy to his presence. You’d been lounging by the pool for at least forty-five, and when you turned back around, Kelce’s dark eyes met yours, the look on his face unreadable. The silence between you felt awkward for some reason, and you hesitantly took a sip of water, eyeing him with a frown.

“Is Topper here too? Do I need to make extra pasta tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean…yes to the Topper question, and no to the other. We’re not staying,” he said with a shrug just as you heard loud footsteps on the stairs. “I actually think Rafe is chilling at my place tonight.”

“Okay,” you slowly responded with an even slower nod, still unsure about the look on his face.

You were going to ask him if he was alright when another familiar face joined you both, Topper stopping just at the entrance of the kitchen. His brows rose a tad when his gaze landed on you, and whatever look passed over his features had come and gone too fast for you to name.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron,” he greeted. “Going for a swim?”

You briefly glanced down at your bathing suit, fixing him with a look that had him nodding.

“Right, stupid question…”

You looked between the both of them, curiously and suspiciously, mind running wild with the possibilities of just what could be going on with them.

You settled on weed.

“If you three are smoking up there…”

They both rushed to deny that, frantically correcting you.

“No, no, we’re just…you look very pretty today,” Topper politely said.

The compliment—even if a little backhanded—took you by surprise, having not expected that, at all. You looked between them again, recognizing the appreciative look in Kelce’s gaze at last, and you let out a small snort. It was flattering in the way a compliment from a child was, and you shook your head.

“Thank you, Topper,” you finally replied, moving to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be outside if any of you need anything.”

You hoped that they wouldn’t. Aside from the three of them, the house was empty, and you’d been taking advantage of such all day. A nice glass of lemon water, an engaging book, and a beautiful sky was all the company you needed to relax poolside. You really didn’t want that to be disturbed by college sophomores burning down the kitchen.

As you made your way towards the backdoor, you briefly caught sight of Rafe standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other occupied with his phone. His gaze broke away from the device just as you looked up, and your gazes only connected for a second or two before you were looking away, but not before throwing him a small smile.

You knew he wouldn’t return it.

The rest of your day was spent as peacefully as you hoped, Kelce’s words ringing true when Rafe did eventually leave the house with no intention of returning it seemed. You were done cooking just as Sarah and Wheezie came home, and although Ward partook in supper, he did have to leave early and retire to his study. You got the feeling that he’d be coming to bed late again, and as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore that annoying tickle in your chest.

A small voice in your head told you there was a fine line between work and spousal neglect, and you’d shaken your head, cursing yourself for being so dramatic. Besides, even if Ward was neglecting you a tad, a million women would kill to be in your position. A few months without proper affection and alone time with your husband was nothing when you considered the lifestyle you were living.

Especially for someone who looked like you.

Your life could be a whole lot worse, and you promptly told yourself to stop acting so spoiled. It was just another rough work patch, something you should be more than used to. Granted, this time seemed to be dragging on longer than the others, but you knew that Ward would be able to step back some time soon and take you on dates and spend time with you and make love to you like he normally did.

You just needed to be patient.

“You really don’t have to help clean up, Rafe.”

That was what you told the younger man as he grabbed the leftover casserole, searching for a tupperware to put it in. You eyed him but not in a way that was thankful or curious but instead in a way that was…perplexed. You’d been eyeing him that way for weeks, now, and you couldn’t find it in you to care if you were being subtle or not.

Gradually—almost too gradually for you to notice in the beginning—Rafe had softened towards you. That might’ve been the wrong word to use, but he was noticeably more agreeable—not necessarily kind—and it had thrown you for a loop from the first moment you noticed it. It was something so small—putting gas back in your car after he’d borrowed it to be exact—but it was also so out of the ordinary for Rafe that you couldn’t help but to linger on it. You’d stood by the door for what felt like minutes, still holding the keys he’d dropped in your hand.

It would’ve been easy to write it off as a one time uncharacteristic display of behavior but then he was asking if you wanted anything before he headed out and was helping you clean up after dinner and was replacing that one thing you were about to run out of before you even had the chance to. You weren’t complaining in the slightest, but you had gone to Ward to ask what he’d said to the younger Cameron to get him to treat you better.

“Nothing, I swear,” Ward had said to you, pulling you into his lap at his desk. “Maybe he’s just realizing how lucky he is to have you.”

You’d resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, positive that Ward had found a way to put the fear of God into your stepson.

“I helped make the mess, didn’t I?” Rafe drawled, responding to you. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve got plans tonight.”

You frowned at his back at that, finding that incredibly hard to believe. If Rafe wasn’t with his friends, then he was spending his free time with his girlfriend. You’d never officially met her, but you heard him mention her in passing sometimes, and you were positive she was who you’d seen him at The Wreck with once. She was blonde and thin and as stereotypically Kook as one could get. She seemed just Rafe’s type, and wondering if she was out of town or something, you asked him.

He didn’t respond right away, and you almost assumed that you’d overstepped, tried to force this relationship too far too fast, and you'd be confronted with the Rafe you were used to at any moment now. However, the younger man only shrugged, putting the casserole in the fridge.

“She just has other plans tonight…”

The response was vague, but you left it alone, simply nodding.

When Rafe needed to get by you to put the empty dish in the dishwasher, his hand briefly touched the small of your back, and you gave it no mind but you did eye him again as he put more dishes in the dishwasher. Ward may have sworn up and down that he didn’t say anything to Rafe, but you surely didn’t believe him. You supposed that it didn’t matter either way, not particularly picky about whatever forced Rafe to start respecting you.

The other man wasn’t rolling his eyes at you and insulting you and giving you looks that could chill ice. That was all that mattered, and so pleased with Rafe’s forced change of heart, there were moments that you forgot about how tied up Ward was with work. After all, you’d long noted that it was your stepchildren that were the biggest pleasant surprises in your marriage, and now that that included Rafe, you almost didn’t mind that a month turned into two and then into three and eventually four of hardly any affection from your husband. 

Your mind was off of it…until Rafe was mentioning it.

“If I wasn’t so sure that he’s obsessed with you, I’d think he was soft launching a divorce or something…”

You frowned at Rafe’s words, giving him a look that he clearly felt because he looked up from his phone. The look in your eyes must have portrayed your thoughts well because Rafe rolled his eyes, reaching over and touching your shoulder.

“It’s called a joke,” he drawled. “I know how hectic work has been lately. Trust if he could be up under you all the time, he would.”

The way Rafe said that gave you pause, thrown by the slight bitterness you swore you heard there. You’d always had the brief thought that maybe Rafe was just jealous of your relationship with Ward, his desire for the other man’s approval no secret. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a child to envy the part of their parent that couldn’t be shared with them but with a lover or friend instead. Rafe was continuing before you could linger on that thought though.

“I’m just pointing out that work hasn’t ever been this bad before…”

He only just dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I know he probably hates it as much as you do, but unlike you, he can’t distract himself with Wheezie or Sarah or shopping or days spent by the pool…”

Rafe trailed off, a glint in his eyes that came and went, and you watched as he pulled his lip between his teeth before fixing you with a haughty smile.

“It’ll pass,” he shrugged.

You had never worried that it wouldn’t, but if even Rafe had noticed, you started to wonder if maybe you should.

“Uh…yeah, Rafe’s just upstairs.”

You moved out of the way to let the younger girl in, the ire on her face as clear as day. You watched her as she stomped up the stairs, and you worriedly wondered if you’d done the right thing. What if Rafe wasn’t expecting her? Even worse…what if they were in some kind of fight and she chose to hash it out here? Closing the front door, you quickly made your way to the bottom of the stairs, surprised to hear their voices so clearly.

It was clear to you that he hadn’t let her in his room.

“The whole nonchalant boyfriend thing is getting old, Rafe.”

You blinked at that.

“Every time I want to see you, it’s excuses. You cancel half the plans we make, and when you are with me, your mind is a million miles away,” the blonde girl practically spat. “So, you either don’t have the balls to dump me or there’s someone else.”

Her tone got particularly nasty near the end there.

“...and God knows I would love to see who you’d dare to cheat on me with.”

This conversation felt too personal—too raw—and you slowly backed away just as Rafe let out a cold chuckle. You made your way to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner, the task having been interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Your frown deepened as you chopped onions, unsure of what was going on between Rafe and his girlfriend but hoping he had the decency to treat her right.

You mulled over her words, confusion filling you as they played in your mind. Rafe had been spending so much time at home the past few months that you found it hard to believe he’d been putting an ounce of effort into anyone else. The only woman you were sure he was spending a considerable amount of time with was…well…you. The thought made you snort, but it was the truth. It was funny because you were sure that you’d seen more of Rafe than you had your own husband as of late..

So many times you were already asleep when he came to bed, and when you woke up, his side of the bed was empty. There had been quite a few days when Rafe was the only other person at the breakfast table and some days where he was wading in the same pool you were lounging by or just scrolling on his phone while you read on the couch. Ward had long told you he hadn’t said a thing to Rafe about treating you better, and at the time you hadn’t believed him, but you also felt like you knew Rafe well, and you knew he wasn’t the type to do what he didn’t want to do for long—if at all.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of their hushed voices traveling into the kitchen as they moved through the house, tones angry.

“Do not talk about her like that,” Rafe suddenly spat, those words as clear as day, and you paused in what you were doing.

A few more hushed words were angrily exchanged, and it wasn’t long before you heard the door slam.

“Rafe…”

Your disappointed tone was all that met him when he stepped into the kitchen, and he eyed you, a hand in his pocket.

“It’s not what you think,” was all he said. “She’s full of herself, alright? If I’m not in the mood to be around her then I must be cheating.”

You pressed your lips together as he neared the island.

“I don’t know… It sounded like she has every reason to suspect to me.”

Rafe fixed you with a look you couldn’t name, a smirk dancing along his lips.

“Eavesdropping…?”

Now, you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look.

“Not on purpose, no, but… Whoever this other girl is, defending her like that to your girlfriend surely won’t earn you any points.”

His laugh took you by surprise, and you looked at him as he leaned his forearms on the island top, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. His hair kissed his forehead.

“I wasn’t defending some ‘other girl’,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I was defending you.”

You faltered at that, blinking with parted lips.

“She said something about having to talk to you just to see me and…” he shrugged. “I didn’t like it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, simply settling for ‘oh’.

“Trust me there is no other girl…just you, and it’s not your fault that my stepmom is more interesting to be around than that stuck up bimbo.”

You didn’t like the way he talked about her, but he was patting your hand and leaving the kitchen before you could reprimand him on it.

You weren’t all that surprised to find your living room occupied by familiar faces—more than used to it—but you were taken aback when one of those familiar faces greeted you with a charming grin.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron…”

Kelce’s tone made you roll your eyes, and you didn’t miss the way Topper lightly hit his arm.

“Afternoon,” you said, a comment about the weather on your lips when the dark skinned boy was suddenly on his feet.

“Let me help you with those,” he hurried to say, taking half of the grocery bags before you had a chance to protest. “They look kind of heavy for you.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you lightly told him.

You supposed that Kelce found himself with a bit of a crush on you—you weren’t stupid—but it was harmless. After all, it manifested in ways such as him complimenting you when he saw you and helping you put groceries away. It was hardly anything to find fault in and complain about. At least, that was how you saw it, but evidently others didn’t agree.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The cold voice had you both pausing, and for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn it was Ward, but no one was more surprised than you to come face to face with Rafe. You blinked in confusion at him, but the blond only had eyes for his friend, those baby blues narrowed in a way you hadn’t seen in some time. He looked at Kelce like he wasn't a friend, and you took a few steps towards him.

“Kelce was just-.”

“I know what Kelce was doing,” was all Rafe said, his tone and few words enough to make the young man in question slink away.

You watched him disappear with a scoff, slowly looking at Rafe again.

“He’s your friend, Rafe. No need to be rude,” you lightly scolded.

The blond rolled his eyes, slowly rolling his head to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that made you freeze for half a second. He’d been so nice to you lately that you sometimes forgot how mean he could be—how mean he could look—but that glint in his gaze was gone just as fast as it came. A smirk ghosted over his lips, and there was nothing humorous about it.

“I need to be rude because he’s my friend,” he said, finally moving to help finish putting up the groceries. “He’s been sniffing around you for months, and you’re just lapping it up.”

You frowned at Rafe, prepared to say something against that when his next words forced you to swallow your words.

“I know my dad’s kind of been…” he slowly ran his gaze over you. “...dropping the ball lately…”

You reared back at that, completely aware of what he meant.

“...but don’t encourage Kelce. You might find it sweet, but he’d fuck you in a heartbeat if he could.”

“Rafe!”

He ignored your outburst, slowly brushing by you as he put some spices up in the cabinet. When you looked over your shoulder, he was nearing you again, and he chuckled when his hand rested on your back.

“He’s my friend,” he softly said, his voice sounding like it was right at your ear. “No one knows what he’s thinking more than me.”

You didn’t doubt that—and you surely didn’t deny it—but you still didn’t appreciate his callous tone and words. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he left the kitchen, taking slow steps to stand at the entrance as he rejoined his friends. You couldn’t see them, but you could hear them, and you pressed your lips together at the sound of Kelce’s apologies.

“You know he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Topper’s voice echoed. 

You chose to tune them out, turning away to gather the empty bags.

Rafe’s words—and the look he gave you—took up your thoughts, and there was a  bitter taste in your mouth that you swallowed down. You didn’t appreciate his commentary on your romantic relationship with his father, both because it was embarrassing and wholly inappropriate. Was it that obvious to everyone else how isolated you and Ward had become from one another? You hated the idea of Rafe and his friends sitting around and talking about it.

While your relationship with the blond had improved, there were times where he definitely talked to you like less of a stepson and more like a friend. You preferred if there were some boundaries, but you reminded yourself that this was Rafe and maybe this was the best you’d ever get. You asked yourself if you really preferred how things used to be over whatever this was?

Rafe only chuckled at you a few weeks later when you brought it up.

“Come on, you know it’s mostly just teasing,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I see how much my dad’s work bothers you when it pulls him away.”

He shrugged again.

“Sue me for trying to make you laugh about it…”

He was helping you put up clothes that you’d washed, and your gaze traveled to the dresser, eyes landing on a picture of the man in question. Rafe had always been observant, that had never been one of the issues with him. It was always getting him to do something with what he’d observed that was the problem. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be discussing your marriage with Rafe of all people—even just casually—you probably would have laughed.

You weren’t laughing today though.

“I appreciate the gesture…sort of but…that’s not your place, Rafe,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to illegally drink and get high and do stupid things with your friends. You are not supposed to concern yourself with how my marriage to your father is going.”

You paused.

“...even if it is just a joke.”

You heard Rafe make a noise you didn't recognize, and when you looked at him, his gaze was already on you. He’d long stop folding Ward’s shirts it seemed, content to lean against the nightstand and watch you. His expression was even—unreadable—and when he tilted his head to the side, he hummed.

“Why not?”

You hadn’t expected that response.

“He’s my father, and you’re married to him, and that does affect me in some ways. It affects all of us actually…”

You frowned at him.

“You think Sarah and Wheezie haven’t noticed?”

You deflated a bit at that, eyes widening a tad.

“You don’t think they talk about how different things are between you lately and if you’re getting a divorce?”

You slowly shook your head, lips parting, but Rafe continued before you could say anything. 

“Who do you think has to reassure them? Because they’re definitely not going to talk to either of you,” he scoffed. “I think I should be allowed to comment on your relationship because if it goes south…well…we lose another mom.”

You looked away at that, entirely unprepared for the turn this conversation had taken. Rafe had a point, you had to admit, and you almost felt silly for expecting Rafe to have no opinions on a relationship that he was correct in saying affected him. Attempting to lighten the mood, you let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, let’s be honest. You never thought of me as much of a mom, anyway,” you folded a shirt. “Ward and I are not getting divorced anytime soon, but if we did, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be too bent out of shape over it.”

The other man didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced at him again you realized why. He’d moved closer—you hadn’t even heard him do so—and you watched him take the shirt out of your hand. His fingers brushed yours as he did so, and Rafe pursed his lips, eyeing the shirt in his hands.

“That might’ve been true some time ago, but… I’ve come to appreciate you a lot more than I have before.” 

He continued before you could even smile at that.

“The potential our relationship has and…what we can do for each other…”

He looked between your eyes as he said this, and the longer he stared at you, the more off the silence felt.

“Right,” you slowly said, and Rafe only smirked.

“My dad hasn’t really been doing his part to keep you happy in this family,” you shook your head at him, but he ignored it. “...and I get it. Work and all that, but I actually like having you around now. Especially when you walk around in those tight little one pieces…”

You stumbled back at his words, heart dropping to your stomach.

“Rafe-.”

“I mean, I doubt you’d ever leave…but you would be a lot less likely too I think if someone else was picking up his slack.”

You were acutely aware of how quiet the rest of the house was—because it was empty. Wheezie and Sarah were both with friends, and Ward was out, leaving just you and Rafe. That fact had you blinking, and while some part of you wanted to write Rafe’s words off to a sick joke, something deep down knew that he wasn’t anything less than serious.

“What…? Kelce of all people can flirt with you, and you eat it up, but here I am telling you I’m going to do what my dad can’t, and you look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“I’m not married to Kelce’s father,” you breathed. “...and he’s like a horny teenager. He’s of no consequence—Rafe…you’re in your father’s bedroom…telling his wife that…”

You couldn’t even get the words out, and Rafe grabbed your arm, pulling you closer.

“That what? That I don’t understand how my dad can have a wife like you and still prioritize work?”

You attempted to move away, but Rafe’s strength took you by surprise, gasping when he held you against him, one hand finding a home on the curve of your waist.

“That I get why Kelce keeps seeing if you’ll give him an ‘in’ because I feel the exact same way? Except, unlike Kelce, I don’t really care about getting permission?”

That angered you, and you were sure it was all over your face.

“Rafe-.”

He swallowed what you were about to say with a kiss, effectively shutting you up. If his strength before had surprised you, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of Rafe lifting you and depositing you on Ward’s bed. It shook under your combined weight, and he was moving at a pace that was hard to keep up with. Rafe’s mouth was all over you, and so much was happening that it made it hard to think straight.

“Rafe…stop,” you gasped.

“Why?” he wondered against the skin of your stomach as he pushed your dress up. “How long has it been? How many months? You can’t tell me that you won’t enjoy this.”

You pushed at his head, but it was of no use. When his mouth attached to your cunt, you reached out to clutch at the bed, thighs almost crushing his head as you tensed beneath him. The feel of his tongue sliding between your folds had your eyes rolling, and deep in the back of your mind you hoped and prayed that no one would walk through that door.

You didn’t even want to imagine what this would look like should someone come up the stairs.

With his arms hooked around your thighs, he rolled you both until you were sitting on his face, and once again his strength had your head spinning. It seemed that in this position you;d surely have more of an upper hand now, but Rafe’s grip was strong on your legs. To your dismay, you couldn’t lift yourself off of him, and you had no choice but to press your hand into the mattress as he ate you out. His head moved beneath you, moving from side to side as he lapped at you, panties harshly pulled to the side.

As you felt how wetter you were becoming under his ministrations, you thought about his words—about how he said you’d enjoy this.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but the way he hummed told you that your body was doing that for him. You cried out when he slipped two fingers into you, stretching you out in time with tasting you, and the only sound in the room was that of your harsh pants and the wet sound of his tongue and mouth between your legs. He only allowed you to roll off of him when you came—hard and mind shattering and everything that you hadn’t felt in months.

You were a panting and overheated mess as you laid there, eyes wide and unblinking as you tried to process what had just happened. As you did, you could hear Rafe moving behind you, and only then did you attempt to gather your thoughts and sit up. You were embarrassingly wet, and the fact that Rafe was the cause had your head spinning and stomach turning. Before you could turn around and ask him what the hell was wrong with him, his hand was in your hair.

You’d only just gotten it done, and he twisted the braids around his fist.

He shushed you when you cried out, using that same strength to push you back down. His other hand was in between your legs—stroking you and fondling you and sinking his fingers into you again and again. With your dress around your waist, you could feel his bare skin against your thigh. You could feel the length of him and how hard he was, and while half of you feared what was to come, the other half couldn’t help but to make you clench around his fingers at the thought of Rafe sinking his cock into you.

“You’re so fucking tight, you know that?”

He pulled his fingers out before pulling at your panties, the fabric stretching painfully before they tore completely. 

“My dad must only fuck you once a month,” he chuckled to himself.

“Rafe,” you scolded, attempting to push against him, but your movements faltered when the head of him pushed into you.

It made you sharply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he slowly sank into you inch by inch. His hand was still tight in your hair, pressing your head down to the mattress while he forced you to arch your back. You heard him cursing the more he filled you, and when his hips were flush with yours, he wasted no time in pulling out before swiftly sliding back inside of you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan.

“That’s it,” you heard him breathe. “You missed this, huh?”

He wasn’t wrong, but Rafe was also…longer than his father. Thicker too, and the stretch was something you weren’t used to. The feel of his cock made your toes curl, and you clawed at the expensive bedding, hating the way you started to meet his thrusts. Your brain felt like it was taken over by a fog, only able to focus on Rafe fucking you and chasing your high by using his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and you were so grateful the house was empty.

You were embarrassingly loud.

You felt unable to control yourself, crying out as you clenched around him and words tumbling from your lips that you didn’t recognize. Had you begged him to fuck you harder? Stretch your pussy? Come inside of you? It was possible, to be honest. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed this feeling until it was your stepson of all people giving it to you.

When you eventually found yourself on your back—and face to face with Rafe once again—you were lifting your hips to make him sink into you faster every time. Your dress had long been discarded, underwear hanging off of your hips in tatters, and your nails were pressed into his back. If Rafe was bothered by the feel of that, he didn’t say anything, but you doubted that was the case. He was too occupied with connecting his hips with yours and plunging into your soaking cunt. The sound of your coupling was loud—the squelch of your core reaching your ears with every thrust—and you absentmindedly noted that you’d never been this wet in your life.

Was it the way he’d just taken what he wanted? You’d never been the kind of woman into stuff like that. Perhaps it was the obvious though—the forbidden nature of it all. Rafe was your husband’s son, and he was fucking you—on Ward’s bed no less. You’d never been into stuff like that either though. Everything about this was nothing at all like you, and when Rafe’s phone lit up on the bed—a familiar name popping up on the screen—your heart sank.

His girlfriend.

You’d forgotten all about her too although you weren’t so sure she and Rafe were even together anymore. You hadn’t seen her or heard about her in some time, not since that day she came by the house, and his words and demeanor that day suddenly made more sense to you. He had been consuming so much of his time with you, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, though…

You had no choice but to acknowledge what had been right in front of you all along.

You threw your head back as Rafe thrust into you slow, your legs parted as he rested on his knees, his gaze focused on where his cock disappeared into you. You looked down too, growing wetter at the sight of your juices on him. You were literally dripping around the length of him, making a mess of your thighs and the bedding, and when Rafe spoke to you the first time, you didn’t hear him.

“What…?” you breathed, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“I want to come inside of you so bad,” he purred, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Want to fill you up on his sheets and let it drip out.”

You didn’t say anything to that, but the way you clenched around him made Rafe chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Hmm? Does my dad know what a whore he married?”

His thrusts grew rougher, making you gasp.

“I should probably be grateful though. Anything less, and you would’ve fought harder to stop me,” he murmured. “...but you didn’t because you knew you’d enjoy this. You knew you’d like fucking me.”

You could feel how close you were—and you were sure Rafe could too—and you dug your nails into his arms. You did want him to come inside of you, you wanted to feel him twitch as he spilled into you—filling you up and coating your walls—and you wanted to push it out after he pulled out of you. Ward always used condoms, and you understood it. He didn’t want any more children, and you were so far from menopause, but you couldn't even care about that right now as Rafe pushed you towards both of your highs.

When he came, he came with a loud grunt, and you couldn’t stop moaning as the feel pushed you over the edge. You swore that you felt him deep in your gut, his hips roughly slapping against yours as he forced you to milk him dry. Your legs shook and your vision blurred, and you were disappointed when Rafe didn’t stay in you long enough. Your heart was going a mile a minute, and you couldn’t move.

You just laid there with your legs strewn about, Rafe’s cum between your folds and sweat clinging to your skin. When you finally looked at him, he was running his hand through his hair, but it did no good. It was so damp with sweat. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just fucked his father’s wife, and when his gaze met yours, there was a haughty smile on his lips.

“He’ll probably be working late tonight…”

You swallowed at that, hating the way your heart jumped.

“...so you’ll have to be quiet while he’s in his study.”

[dekuneho]

needy ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x fem!reader ) mdni | 18+ — katsuki's kink is probably you asking for it; katsuki has a filthy mouth im sorryyy 1.7k

You're usually not the first to initiate this. Sex. Katsuki doesn't worry about failing to get what he wants, not like how you are right now. He's vociferous — "Can I fuck you, baby?" and you'd melt against him so easily because you fell for Bakugou Katsuki for that reason.

You can't do that. You don't know how to approach him with the same effortlessness and not get swallowed up whole by the urge to flee before you can even get a word out. It's not for the fear of rejection but for how bare you'd be asking for it. Sex.

Katsuki, of course, notices your restlessness for the entire evening. He doesn't say anything about it at first, not even while you eat together and you can't seem to meet him in the eyes, or how you don't join him in the shower unlike always, or even how you sit on the edge of the bed like there's steam blowing out your ears.

"Spit it out," Katsuki says, his back pressed against the headboard. "Look at me."

You clutch at your chest, bringing attention to the unsteady thumping of your heartbeat. You rip your gaze off the floor and instead gravitate to Katsuki's biceps bulging from the press against his chest.

You swallow a pathetic noise, reminded of what exactly you've been needing from your boyfriend.

You tear your eyes away from his arms and meet an arched, pale eyebrow. Assessing. How is this so hard? You can't even bring yourself to choke out a "pleasefuckme" because Katsuki makes you feel like some freshman asking for some hand-holding in the hallway.

It's embarrassing to be years in a relationship with Katsuki, but you're so attracted to him that asking to be fucked feels the same as asking him out.

It's Katsuki's expression that cracks the fragile atmosphere. He has his brows pinched in a crease that wrinkles his forehead. His face doesn't betray anything else, but you're well-versed in Katsuki to understand that he is just as nervous as you are. Anxious.

"It's nothing bad," you assure him, guilt aching in your chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you."

Katsuki eases just an inch. He clicks his tongue and looks away. "Could've sworn otherwise."

As terrible as that sounds, how Katsuki is just as affected as you are invertedly calms you down. Whatever happens, you know Katsuki will be honest with you.

Clinging onto the last shred of your dignity, you crawl over pillows and settle on Katsuki's lap. Hovering.

His confusion overtakes his worry, hands instinctively reaching out to your waist. "What—"

"Katsuki," you begin, and his breathing halts in anticipation. Tentatively, barely there, you roll your hips over his, fluttering in delight when his cock swells with growing interest, and you can feel it, right there, separated by layers—

"Fuck," he hisses through his teeth, heated hands moving to your ass. "You..."

"Please," it tumbles out your mouth so nicely. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately." Shame burns on your cheeks, watching as his dick stirs. Intrigued. "And you haven't been — giving it. Lately."

"That what it is?" he asks quietly, almost in disbelief. "Needed me to fill you up?"

There's no better way to say it.

When you look up from where you two meet, Katsuki's pupils have dilated so wide that there's barely a trace of red. It speaks of a promise: I'll give it to you. Air closes around your throat, thighs twitching. He feels it, too.

"Been hurtin', weren't you?" he says, sounding untamed as he breathes it over your ear, inciting a full-body shiver. "Been needin' it bad? M'sorry. Didn't mean to neglect you, sweetheart."

"Katsuki," you gasp brokenly.

"Mm." He kisses your jaw, sucks on it, hands catching on the drawstring of your sweatpants, pulls on it. You lift your thighs. Soon enough, you're fully bare waist-down. "So fuckin' hot, asking for me to fuck you like that. Shit, I'm gonna be dreamin' about that for months."

He proves his interest by grinding up your thigh. You whine, feeling it from the back of your throat. You need him so badly. You barely notice that you're still rubbing yourself against him until there's a wet patch over his sweatpants.

"Hold still, sweetheart."

Katsuki dips a finger where you're unsurprisingly wet. He rubs where he knows you're sensitive the most, the slick of your arousal making the friction so good. Your back arches and Katsuki's cooing, coaxing each noise out with his fingers and the filth from his mouth.

"You're already wet," he says, pupils as dark as his voice.

"Don't tease," you manage to choke out, gripping the front of his shirt. "I already — ah — prepped myself. I needed you to fuck me last week."

Katsuki stills, his eyes flicking from your cunt to your needy expression, then curses under his breath.

"Fuck, fuck," he says. "Fuck you. You have no idea how hard it'll be to go out on patrol when I'm thinkin' about you talkin' dirty like that."

Embarrassment floods your entire body. "Don't say it like that, asshole. And focus on your patrol! Don't let your dick distract you from the villains!"

Katsuki shuts you up by sliding the roughness of his palm over your heat, pulling a whimper that makes him grin. "They're the distraction. Never you. Thinkin' about you all the time — this, all the time."

"Pervert," you say, but you're moving your hips along his hand.

Katsuki laughs once, pulling you off his hips, only for him to pull his sweatpants down by his knees. "Who was the one beggin' for it?"

You can't bring yourself to think of something witty. The sight of him hard in front of you has you robbed of incoherent thought.

Katsuki knows it. He's seen that look on your face time and time again — know only he can do that to you. "Let me make it up to you, yeah? Let me fill you up the way you'd been cravin'."

He's so embarrassing with that mouth. It's a wonder why you're whining louder, getting wetter.

"You want it," Katsuki says, leaning back against the headboard. "Baby, you wanted this, didn't you? Take what you want from me."

You may be the one on top of him, but you've never felt all the more embarrassed, giving him a full view of how wet you are for him just by thinking about it. It drips. Yet you find yourself too needy to complain, not wanting to waste the opportunity he's giving.

"Okay," you say, lifting your hips up enough for him to watch yourself lining up above him.

And does he watch, eyes wild. You may be the one to initiate this, but he's the one looking desperate for it. Like he can't bring himself to wait a second longer before burying himself in you. He's big. You might've stretched yourself open, yet it'd take a while for you to accommodate his size again after days without it. So you only take him in inch by inch, impressed by how Katsuki screws his eyes shut, keeping himself from moving.

"Fuck," you both say in tandem.

You shudder, feeling so full in a way you've been itching for. You can barely resist your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel him twitch inside you. Katsuki's not fairing any better, fingers digging in your hips, some noise close to a whine by the back of his throat. The thought of him leaving marks when you've been so bare of it for too long has you clenching around him. He groans, unable to help himself from thrusting up. You share a gasp.

You tremble, feeling boneless and restless simultaneously. "Katsuki. Katsuki—”

You're not entirely sure what you're trying to say, only that Katsuki understands.

"I know," he says, sounding just as winded. "Wanted it, too, you don't even know."

At his muttering, you find yourself fucking against him, chasing the pleasure his words are giving you. You missed this badly. Nights when he had evening patrol and you were achingly empty were the worst; you couldn't complain, but you've wanted to hide Katsuki from the world and keep him to you for too long. Your wrists ache at the reminder — they were never as good as this.

Your answering moan is loud in your mouth, hips gaining speed. He reaches far deeper than you can even try. He knows it.

"Yeah? Your fingers not enough, ain't it?" Katsuki says, rolling his hips up when you slam down, gaze hot as you tremble above him. "Look at you, baby. So wet and hot. You're making a mess. Needed it that bad?"

"Yes. Please, please," you can only say. You feel yourself losing strength as your climax slowly reaches for you.

"Fuck," he exhales, and thankfully uses those years of upper body strength training to help you ride him — where it nearly feels as if you're barely exerting any effort. Sweat trails down his jaw, his eyes ravaging the sight of you swallowing him up every thrust. "You — needed me to fill you up like this, huh?"

"Katsuki, I—” You want to look away, shame filling your insides. It's unfair that Katsuki is so attractive that just looking at him makes you surrender so easily. "I think I'm close. Katsuki, I can't—"

"Hah," Katsuki twitches, breath seizing. "Yeah? You gonna give it t'me, baby? Come on. Know you can. Show me how good I make you feel."

Tears well up in your eyes. This position has him reaching so deep inside that after this, you know you'll miss how you can feel him in there, like he's branding himself in your body, staking a claim where no one else can see. But they'd know. On the bruises on your hips, the marks all over your neck, how you're chanting Katsuki's name and—

Katsuki kisses you deeply when you spill, his own release following along like just seeing you gets him every time. You moan fully in his mouth, always surrendering.

"Thank you," you sigh against him.

Katsuki snorts, massaging shapes into the sides of your hips. "You know I'll always want it more than you. Don't gotta thank me for that."

[thedensworld]

Illogical Project | C.Sc

Pairing: Ceo! Seungcheol x reader

Genre: fluff, humor, stranger to crush

Summary: It was just a project to get rid of a side chick, but Seungcheol fall. Deeply.

I was having so much fun writing this!

Seungcheol didn’t have to do this. But he needed to do it. Logic flew right out the window the moment he’d typed your name into the company group website. Imagine his surprise when your profile popped up, revealing you were part of the marketing team—under his own label, no less.

The woman sneaking around with his cousin’s fiancé was one of his employees?

Seungcheol let out a dry laugh. Well, this just got interesting. It shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of you.

It has been two years since Jiyeon, his cousin, and Jeonghan got engaged. Their engagement had been more of a business deal than a love story. And although Jiyeon’s engagement to Jeonghan was supposed to be purely transactional, it had been a lifesaver for Seungcheol. Thanks to her, he no longer had to endure his grandfather’s endless nagging about getting married.

But then, yesterday happened.

“Jeonghan’s been cheating on me!” Jiyeon had wailed, storming into his office like a whirlwind. Seungcheol hadn’t thought much of it—Jiyeon tended to exaggerate. He’d been about to brush it off with some nonchalant comment until she hit him with: “I think I’m going to call off the engagement.”

Hold up. What?

That wasn’t part of the plan. Jiyeon couldn’t break off the engagement! Without it, Seungcheol’s peace and freedom would go down the drain. He’d be right back to enduring those endless blind dates set up by his grandfather. Dinners with girls whose names he’d forget before dessert even arrived. Absolutely not.

Which led him to this moment, finding you—Jeonghan’s secret girlfriend. His smirk widened. If cutting you out of the picture meant keeping Jiyeon on board, then so be it. He’d convince you to take your cheating ways elsewhere.

Who would’ve thought his biggest problem was one of his own subordinates?

If anyone could see him now—Seungcheol, the company CEO, scrolling through employee profiles like a suspicious boyfriend—it would be mortifying. But hey, desperate times called for desperate measures. And there was no way he was letting his hard-earned freedom slip away because of Jeonghan’s wandering eyes and your sneaky rendezvous.

*

"Mr. Choi has been acting strange lately," your manager said as she returned from his office, a puzzled look on her face.

"He’s refused every ad plan we’ve pitched to him. And now he’s specifically asked for you to handle it."

Your brows shot up in surprise as you pointed at yourself. “Me?”

“Yes, you. He wants you in his office in ten minutes—with the best idea you can bring to the table.”

“Wait, ten minutes?!” You shot up from your chair, scrambling to find the folder you always kept at your desk. Panic set in as you grabbed your iPad—your lifeline filled with every concept, draft, and half-baked idea you’d ever had. “Why are you just telling me this now?”

Ms. Shin shrugged nonchalantly, already turning her attention back to her own tasks. “It slipped my mind. Good luck!”

You let out a frustrated sigh. Typical Ms. Shin. She was a perpetual headache wrapped up in business casual attire. Just yesterday, she’d dumped her entire presentation prep on you, claiming she was “too busy” to handle it herself. Never mind the fact that you were the one who’d developed almost every campaign concept the department had used for the past two years.

But still, you remained a shadow. Despite your efforts, you were practically invisible in the department—overworked and unnoticed.

As you rushed to the elevator, the thought crossed your mind: Why did Mr. Choi want to see you now?

Was he starting to see through Ms. Shin’s facade and realize where the real work was coming from? Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. This could either be a breakthrough… or a complete disaster.

Jeonghan used to tell you a lot about Seungcheol, his college friend. From what you’d heard, Seungcheol was the embodiment of professionalism. He wouldn’t judge you for staying in the shadows to support your boss all these years, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. The truth was, you didn’t know him well enough to understand what went on in his mind.

To you, Mr. Choi was just your boss’s boss—the executive you occasionally spotted from a distance as he strode through the office with that air of authority and responsibility. He was the face of Heidos Food, a man who commanded respect and led by example. His dedication and work ethic were part of the reason you’d decided to join this label among the Heidos Group’s many subsidiaries.

Taking a deep breath, you managed a smile at his secretary. “Mr. Choi is expecting me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

The secretary gave a curt nod and led you to the door. You couldn’t help but feel small as you stood before it, staring at the imposing wood panel. The secretary knocked gently and stepped aside, motioning for you to enter.

This was it—your first time stepping into the office of the man who practically ran the entire division.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you took a deep breath and stepped inside.

What could he possibly want from me?

"It was disappointing, Ms. Ji."

Your heart sank as Mr. Choi’s voice sliced through the silence after you wrapped up the impromptu presentation.

“I don’t see your idea being as innovative as I expected. The format feels repetitive—similar to every program the marketing department has produced over the past few years.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. How could you not? Internally, you were screaming. Of course, everything looked the same—they were all your ideas! Yet, it wasn’t like you could point that out to him.

Instead, you forced yourself to respond with a calm, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Choi tapped his pen thoughtfully against the desk, his gaze never leaving your face. “But,” he continued slowly, “it does have potential. It just needs a bit more… observation and refinement. Do you think you can handle this project, Ms. Ji? It’s rather risky.”

His question caught you off guard. Risky? Since when did Mr. Choi—who typically preferred playing it safe—assign risky projects to subordinates? Still, you couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

“I’m confident I can handle it, sir. If you trust me, I’ll deliver.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded. “Good. In that case, pack some clothes. We’re going to Singapore for a seminar tomorrow.”

What?!

You blinked at him, stunned. Singapore? Tomorrow? You hadn’t even processed what just happened before he dismissed you, turning his attention back to his paperwork as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

*

Seungcheol had no idea where your confidence came from. He’d incidentally overheard your phone conversation with Jeonghan earlier, and it was all sweet and annoyingly romantic.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t exactly accidental. Maybe he intentionally eavesdropped—just a little—but who could blame him? He couldn’t believe how bold you were to have such an intimate call with Jeonghan right in front of him.

So, people are right when they say love is thrilling when you’re playing with fire, he mused, his annoyance growing.

"You should pay attention to her more," he heard you say, your voice dropping to a softer tone that made Seungcheol’s scowl deepen.

Then you added, with a laugh that sounded entirely too carefree, "You’re right, I’m the better companion."

He felt his jaw clench involuntarily. Companion, huh? The nerve of you—being all cozy with Jeonghan right under his nose. He was already irritated by this whole situation, but now he had to endure your lovey-dovey chatter too?

“Alright, I gotta go. Bye... Have a nice day!” you finished, your voice as sweet as honey.

The moment you hung up, Seungcheol snapped himself into a more composed posture, acting as if he hadn’t just been caught leaning against the wall, listening like a gossip. He made a show of dropping himself onto the couch in front of you.

To his further irritation, you looked up with an even brighter smile.

“What should I do today, sir?” you asked, voice cheerful and professional, as if you hadn’t just been caught cooing over the phone.

Seungcheol had to think. There was really nothing too strenuous on the agenda for you today, but a part of him—call it the vindictive part—wanted to see you squirm, especially after witnessing your little show of affection for Jeonghan.

“Take notes on everything,” he ordered, watching your expression closely. “Mingle with everyone. Join every discussion. Since I’ll be attending a separate meeting, make sure you don’t make a fool out of our company. Got it?”

You nodded and jotted everything down like the diligent employee you were. “Okay, noted, sir.”

Seungcheol let out a sigh, not quite satisfied with the reaction—or lack thereof. “Can I trust you with this?”

Your smile remained unwavering as you met his gaze. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Something about your calm composure only made him want to push you further.

How could you be this unbothered?

On the last day of the seminar, Seungcheol could hardly believe it when his company was presented with an award of appreciation—all thanks to your hard work over the past few days. He had known you were good, but he hadn’t expected you to exceed everyone’s expectations this much.

But what truly grated on his nerves was the way people kept talking about you: “That woman with brains, bravery, and beauty,” they said, almost in awe.

Is this a business seminar or some kind of beauty pageant? he grumbled internally, irritated by how many times he’d heard those words. Every time someone praised your creativity and wit, it felt like another jab. Yet, even he couldn’t deny you deserved the recognition. The achievement might have been unexpected, but it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Now, he found himself sitting at a high-end restaurant for lunch, just hours before their flight back to South Korea. You sat stiffly across from him, clearly uncomfortable. After refusing his invitation five times and trying to hitch a ride to the airport with his secretary instead, here you were—reluctantly.

“You can choose whatever you’d like, Ms. Ji. You’ve earned it,” Seungcheol said, not looking up from his menu as he spoke.

You mumbled a polite acknowledgment, your gaze glued to the menu. Seungcheol raised his hand to call the waitress over and glanced at you, waiting for your order. His eyes widened in surprise when you rattled off your request in perfect, fluent Malay.

“Wait—you can speak the language?” he asked, caught off guard.

You nodded casually. “Yes, I studied and graduated here.”

“Hmm,” Seungcheol murmured thoughtfully. He tapped his fingers against the table, considering your response. “With that kind of portfolio, you could easily settle into a bigger company. Why stay at Heidos Food?”

To his surprise, you shook your head, rejecting the notion. “No, Heidos Food is the perfect fit for me.”

Seungcheol raised a brow. He couldn’t tell if you were just being polite or genuinely meant it. “And why is that?”

You paused, looking a little hesitant before speaking. “Five years ago, I had just graduated, and I attended the company’s anniversary event with someone I knew. I saw your speech there—it was incredible. It motivated me to become a part of Heidos Foods. I applied several times, went through multiple interviews, and finally got my position three years ago.”

Seungcheol didn’t like the way your story painted him as an integral figure in your career choice. He didn’t want to think he was that important. And yet, there was no denying that something about the way you spoke made him pause. He found himself strangely flattered—and maybe a little more intrigued than he wanted to admit.

He glanced away, clearing his throat. Stop it, Seungcheol. She’s not special.

But the thought wouldn’t leave him. He kept stealing glances at you, wondering how he had overlooked these little details about you. Maybe there really was something to what everyone kept saying: brains, bravery, and beauty—all rolled into one package.

No, he told himself sternly. Focus.

Slowly, Seungcheol found himself losing sight of his initial motive for getting to know you better—the desire to uncover the truth behind your connection with Jeonghan. As he spent more time with you, your charm and intelligence began to weave a spell around him, shifting his focus from suspicion to genuine curiosity.

The more he learned about you, the more he realized how difficult it was to see you as just a subordinate or a rival in Jeonghan’s affections.

He hadn’t planned on feeling this way, and it unsettled him. What started as a calculated move to monitor your interactions had transformed into something entirely different.

Seungcheol caught himself daydreaming about your conversations, replaying moments that made him smile. He was drawn to you in ways he hadn’t expected, and that realization left him both exhilarated and confused.

As his initial purpose faded into the background, a new question took root in his mind: What if getting close to you had become the most intriguing project of all?

*

“Can you send Ms. Ji to my office after this? There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but she just left the building a few minutes ago due to personal business. She didn’t provide any details.”

Seungcheol nodded in frustration as Ms. Shin, your manager, wrapped up her paperwork. It had been two weeks since the two of you returned from the business trip, and he still found himself at a crossroads. He was working diligently to create a void that would justify getting rid of you, especially concerning your relationship with Jeonghan.

Alright, if he could be honest; he didn’t want to lose a gem like you from the company. The idea of you being Jeonghan’s “side chick” was almost infuriating, especially given your intelligence and undeniable beauty.

Yeah, Seungcheol couldn’t deny that your beauty truly shone when you were focused on your work, and he found it charming every time he handed you a new challenge.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a call from Jiyeon, his cousin. He picked it up, immediately greeted by her sobs.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Jeonghan…” Jiyeon cried, her voice trembling as she choked out his name.

“What did that bastard do now?”

There was no immediate response, just the sound of her muffled cries. Then, through the tears, Seungcheol finally heard her say, “He had a car accident after we fought. He’s in the hospital now.”

Within moments, Seungcheol found himself standing outside the operating room with Jiyeon by his side. To his surprise, he spotted you sitting quietly in a corner, clearly distressed. So here you were, the “personal business” Ms. Shin had mentioned.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder and guiding her away from the waiting area. He handed her a can of soda as they sat down together.

“We fought on the phone,” Jiyeon explained, her voice still shaky. “I mentioned his side chick, and he denied it. He said he had no one besides me. I didn’t believe him, and then he said he would explain everything when he came to my office, but he got into a car accident.”

Seungcheol nodded, processing her words. “Y/N was there,” he said, gesturing toward you in the corner. “Y/N. She’s the one Jeonghan was supposedly seeing,” he added, his voice laced with confusion.

Jiyeon’s brow furrowed in frustration as she shook her head. “No, they are siblings. They have the same mother,” she sobbed, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotions.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? They’re siblings?”

“Yes,” Jiyeon replied, her expression a mixture of sadness and relief. “That explains everything. I thought he was cheating on me, but it turns out he was just trying to protect her.”

The weight of this shocking revelation shifted the tension in the room, leaving both of them momentarily speechless. Seungcheol leaned back against the wall, trying to digest the news.

Jiyeon wiped her tears, glancing toward you again. “I need to talk to her,” she said, determination filling her voice. “She deserves an explanation.”

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe this would clear the air and mend the rift between you.

*

"Has she done this a lot to you?" Seungcheol heard your voice coming from inside the room as he and Jiyeon were about to enter. Both of them paused instinctively, hovering just outside the door.

"She accused you of cheating. She put you in this situation!" Your tone was laced with a rage Seungcheol had never heard from you before. There was an intensity, a fierceness in your voice that was completely unfamiliar to him.

"I could’ve lost you…”

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, barely audible, as if trying to calm you down. “I’m fine, Y/N. I promise. It’s not her fault.”

Jiyeon, who had been poised to enter the room, suddenly froze, her eyes widening in realization. She glanced at Seungcheol, and he could see the confusion and guilt reflecting in her gaze. Before she could turn away, you stepped out of the room, your eyes red and swollen. The sight of Seungcheol and Jiyeon standing there, having clearly overheard the conversation, caught you off guard, but you quickly composed yourself.

You cleared your throat and walked past them with your head held high, your expression a perfect mask of indifference, as if you didn’t realize—or perhaps didn’t care—that they’d been listening in.

Seungcheol watched you go, his mind spinning. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the college days when he and Jeonghan had shared a dorm room. As the only Korean students on campus, they naturally gravitated toward each other. He recalled Jeonghan often mentioning his younger sister—a sibling from the same mother who was in middle school at the time. Seungcheol had never met her, but from Jeonghan’s stories, it was clear how much he treasured her.

"I get a headache every time she doesn’t pick up my call!" Jeonghan would grumble late at night, throwing his phone down in frustration. “She’s so stubborn, but she’s all I’ve got.”

And now, it all clicked into place. The sister Jeonghan had spoken of so fondly, the one he worried about constantly, was you. You, the woman who had captivated his attention with your intelligence and charm, were Jeonghan’s sister. Someone who had been right under his nose this entire time.

*

The hum of the office printer was the only sound in the room as you carefully gathered the documents you needed to submit. Steeling yourself, you walked to Seungcheol’s office and knocked gently before stepping inside.

Seungcheol glanced up from his computer when he heard the door open. The usual lighthearted banter that had developed between the two of you was noticeably absent as you approached his desk and placed the file in front of him.

“Here’s the proposal, sir. It needs your signature,” you said softly, keeping your eyes on the document and not on him.

Seungcheol picked up the pen, his gaze shifting between the file and your calm, composed demeanor. After scribbling his signature on the dotted line, he cleared his throat, an awkward tension hanging between you two.

“Is… Jeonghan doing better?” Seungcheol asked cautiously, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice finally holding a hint of warmth. “He’s recovering well. The doctors said he’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

Seungcheol nodded, a small wave of relief washing over him. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad he’s getting better. If you need more time off, just let me know. I know you’ve been the one taking care of him.”

You shook your head gently. “No, thank you. There’s already an assigned nurse for him. I’ll be back to work as usual.”

The air between you two was thick with unspoken words and awkwardness. Seungcheol felt the weight of everything he had said and done, of the suspicion that had once tainted every interaction he’d had with you. He knew it was his fault the dynamic between you had shifted so drastically, and now, he was fumbling, unsure of how to bridge the gap he had created.

“I—” Seungcheol hesitated, his usual poise and confidence faltering. “I know I messed up… and I don’t blame you if things don’t go back to the way they were. I just… I miss the way we used to work together, the way we used to talk.”

You blinked, taken aback by his admission. But even then, you didn’t respond with the same enthusiasm you used to. Instead, you offered him a small, understanding smile.

“Thank you for understanding, sir,” was all you said before you excused yourself and walked out of his office.

Seungcheol watched you go, the emptiness in his chest expanding. He had been wrong—terribly, embarrassingly wrong—and now he was paying the price for his foolish assumptions. He had shattered the easy camaraderie that once existed between you, and now, he was left with the cold, polite exchanges that felt more like a punishment than anything else.

You were here, right in front of him, but you felt more distant than ever.

*

You knew exactly what had been happening to you, but you tried to deny it until it finally affected you like it did today. Ms. Shin had already lectured you with words you never imagined she would use, all because of a rare moment of clumsiness that you didn’t even see coming. You had too much on your plate, and the project Mr. Choi had assigned to you was nearing its deadline. In the midst of it all, you accidentally forgot to send an anniversary message to one of your most loyal clients, and Ms. Shin had to do damage control.

“They were very offended, Y/N,” Ms. Shin snapped, her voice carrying throughout the office as she reprimanded you in front of everyone. You stood there, hands clasped in front of you, listening to her and internally cursing yourself for letting things slip, all because you couldn’t get Mr. Choi’s words out of your mind.

“I miss the way we used to work together.”

“I miss—”

“I’ll be reporting this to HR. I can’t handle this kind of negligence anymore.” Ms. Shin concluded sharply, her words reverberating through the office. A collective gasp came from your colleagues, who were too stunned to react.

Later that day, you found yourself sitting in the HR director’s office, replaying Ms. Shin’s words in your mind. You expected another round of the same scolding, but what came next blindsided you completely.

“We’ve received reports about you neglecting your responsibilities over the past three months, and unfortunately, we can’t tolerate this any longer. Please clear your desk before the workday ends,” the HR director said, his tone dismissive.

“What?” The shock was apparent on your face. No warning letter, no opportunity to explain—just an immediate termination.

“You’re firing me?” you whispered, still in disbelief.

“Effective immediately.” His tone was final, and there was no room for negotiation. You were jobless. Just like that.

You felt a scream building up inside you, a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to release. Anger, frustration, betrayal—every word they’d said felt unfair, and you were powerless to fight it. Who were you to contest it? Just another employee, replaceable, forgotten.

By the time you made it home, Jeonghan was the first to greet you, his face lighting up in surprise. “You’re home early?” he chirped, clearly not expecting you at this hour. Ever since he was discharged from the hospital, he had been staying at your place, recovering until he could get around without any help.

His smile quickly faded when he noticed the cardboard box in your hands. His expression crumpled with worry as you dropped the box onto the table with a heavy thud. “Are you… fired?” Jeonghan asked hesitantly, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

You nodded, letting out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, they fired me. Fuck Heidos. I’m going to start my own advertising company!”

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard by your outburst. “Alright, slow down. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but what happened?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You shrugged, collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. The last thing you wanted was to relive today’s events by recounting them to your brother. You just wanted to forget.

“Does Seungcheol know about this?” Jeonghan pressed on, not noticing how drained you were. “He told me you were handling a project together. Was this his decision?”

“Do you need a marketing staff?” you deflected, throwing the question back at him, trying to steer the conversation away.

“No, I don’t. But if you’re interested, I can make some room for you.”

You shook your head immediately. The last thing you wanted was to work for your brother’s company out of pity or nepotism. It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it before, but joining his business now would feel like a defeat.

“I told you, you could’ve joined my company from the start,” Jeonghan murmured softly, his tone far gentler than before. “The Heidos you were so proud of has finally turned its back on you, huh?”

You groaned and stood up abruptly, your heavy steps echoing through the small living room as you stormed off to your bedroom. You slammed the door behind you, cutting off whatever else Jeonghan had to say.

“Yeah, Heidos finally threw me out,” you muttered bitterly to yourself as you leaned against the door. The company you had dreamed of working for, the place you’d given your blood, sweat, and tears for over the years—had thrown you out without so much as a second thought.

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. This was the company you had stayed up nights for, the one you’d gone above and beyond for every single day. You’d fought your way in, made a name for yourself, only to be discarded like you were nothing.

And all you could think about was how everything had spiraled ever since that conversation with Seungcheol. How his simple words had shaken your confidence, distracted you, and caused this downward spiral.

But the worst part?

You still cared what he thought.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall as Jeonghan's words replayed in your mind, taunting you.

Heidos finally turned its back on you.

Was that it, though? Was it really the company you were angry with? Or was there something more?

Your gaze dropped to the floor as a bitter realization crept in. Were you really interested in Heidos all along? Or was it Mr. Choi?

You closed your eyes and let out a slow breath, your thoughts drifting back to the first time you saw him in person. It was during Heidos’s anniversary gala, a grand event that showcased the company's milestones.

But there he was—Choi Seungcheol, the CEO’s son, standing on the grand stage, delivering a speech with the kind of charisma that made everyone hang on to his every word. He talked about vision, about passion, about how Heidos wasn’t just a business—it was a dream they all built together.

You remembered the way his eyes scanned the room as if acknowledging everyone’s efforts personally, his voice carrying conviction and authority. He seemed approachable yet untouchable at the same time. There was a spark in him that drew you in, like a flame you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by, even if it meant risking getting burned.

When he mentioned the value of individual contributions, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself as one of those valued employees he spoke of. That night, you had felt an overwhelming sense of pride, a hope that you, too, could be part of something bigger. Part of his vision. It made you work harder, push through every obstacle, and make a name for yourself in the company.

But what if, beneath all those aspirations, it was his approval you were really after?

Had it always been about earning a place at Heidos, or had it been about being acknowledged by him? Did your heart race because of the accomplishments, or was it because of the fleeting interactions you had with him?

You tried to shake off the thoughts, but the memories kept flooding back.

There was the time he complimented your work during a company meeting, the way he’d asked for your opinion during a discussion, and, of course, the project where you saw a different side of him—where he was more than just the stern, high-and-mighty executive everyone knew him as.

"I miss the way we used to work together."

His words echoed in your mind, laced with regret and something you couldn’t quite place. Had you let those words affect you more than they should have? Had you crossed a line somewhere between professionalism and personal admiration?

You huffed out a breath and rubbed your face with your hands. It was hard to admit, but maybe you were chasing after more than just a career.

Maybe it was a person.

“Are you really that naive?” you muttered to yourself, almost laughing at how pathetic it sounded. “You got yourself fired because you couldn’t get over a few words from Choi Seungcheol. Great job, Y/N.”

What had you been thinking? That you meant something more to him? That the way he looked at you was anything other than superficial interest? Maybe you’d been reading into things too much, letting your emotions cloud your judgment.

After all, the way he’d treated you—suspicious, distrustful, wary—it all pointed to how little he thought of you. You were a pawn in his game of protecting Jiyeon. The only reason he ever looked your way was because he thought you were a threat.

And yet… you wanted to believe there had been something more. Something genuine. But now, everything felt tainted.

Because if Heidos was no longer an option, then you’d just have to prove to yourself that you could rise even without the company’s name backing you up.

But first, you’d have to figure out a way to keep your heart in check—especially when it came to him.

“Forget it, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, staring at your reflection in the bedroom mirror. “Forget about Choi Seungcheol. He was never part of your plan, anyway.”

*

It was his first day back in the office after a week-long business trip, and Seungcheol finally had a chance to sit down and get back into his routine. His secretary entered the room with his usual coffee, already prepared with a list of updates and meetings for the day. He rattled them off efficiently, detailing every appointment and task Seungcheol needed to be aware of.

“I want to know the update on the project Ms. Ji is handling,” Seungcheol said, glancing at the folder in front of him, half-expecting to see her familiar name.

There was a brief pause, and when his secretary responded, the answer was something Seungcheol never anticipated.

“She’s no longer part of our staff, sir.”

Seungcheol frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, the question carrying a sharp edge.

“She was terminated a week ago due to negligence in fulfilling her responsibilities,” the secretary explained carefully. “The report came from Ms. Shin, and HR approved it immediately.”

Seungcheol’s scowl deepened, the irritation evident in the tightening of his jaw. He leaned back in his chair, processing the information. “Ms. Ji was managing a critical project with me,” he said, his voice lowering. “Her status required my approval. How is it possible I wasn’t informed about this?”

His secretary’s shoulders tensed, and he hesitated before replying, “I’m terribly sorry, sir. You were occupied with meetings and engagements throughout the week, and I only received the details two days ago myself.”

“Busy or not, I should have been notified immediately.” Seungcheol’s voice was dangerously calm. He glanced at the stack of files on his desk, his mind already racing to piece together what could’ve gone wrong. “I want Ms. Shin and Mr. Kim from HR in my office—now.”

“Yes, sir,” the secretary replied quickly, bowing slightly before leaving the room to carry out Seungcheol’s orders.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to the half-empty coffee cup, his thoughts a blur of anger and disbelief. Fired? For negligence? That didn’t add up. He knew you weren't perfect, but you were dedicated and thorough. You had handled complex projects before, and while you had your flaws, negligence was never one of them.

Something wasn’t right.

The door opened again a few minutes later, and Ms. Shin walked in, followed closely by Mr. Kim. Both looked apprehensive, likely sensing the storm brewing from the tension in the air.

“Explain,” Seungcheol said without preamble, his eyes fixed on Ms. Shin. “Why was Ms. Ji terminated, and why was I not informed?”

Ms. Shin cleared her throat, meeting his gaze with a strained smile. “Sir, there were multiple instances where Ms. Ji failed to meet her deadlines and deliverables, which impacted the team’s performance. I reported this to HR, and after reviewing her recent performance records, they decided to let her go.”

“And whose idea was it to keep this from me?” Seungcheol’s voice was low and dangerous.

“We didn’t intend to keep it from you, sir,” Mr. Kim interjected cautiously.

“The decision was made quickly due to the urgency of the situation. Given that you were away and Ms. Shin was the acting supervisor for that period, we thought it best to handle it internally until we could brief you properly.”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted between the two of them, his displeasure evident. “I don’t appreciate decisions being made without my knowledge, especially when it concerns a project directly under my supervision. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered in unison, looking visibly uncomfortable.

“Ms. Ji was fired without a formal warning or disciplinary review?” Seungcheol continued, his voice hardening. “Was she given no chance to explain herself or defend her performance?”

Ms. Shin shifted uneasily, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Sir, she had been making several mistakes, and her focus seemed to be elsewhere. It was affecting her work quality. We couldn’t afford to let it slide any longer.”

“Was this decision truly about her work, or something else?” Seungcheol pressed, his gaze narrowing. “Because from what I’ve seen, she was one of the most consistent performers on the team. I want a full report on the matter by the end of today.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Kim replied quickly, while Ms. Shin’s jaw tightened, her frustration barely masked.

“Dismissed,” Seungcheol said curtly, waving them out of his office.

*

You practically jumped out of your bed when you saw an incoming call from Mr. Choi flash across your phone screen. Heart racing, you scrambled to sit up straight before answering.

“I’m outside your place.”

What?

You blinked, staring at yourself in the mirror in disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been in a post-drama-marathon daze, slouched in bed after indulging in a series binge you could never afford the time for before. And now, the very man who occupied your thoughts far more than he should—the Choi Seungcheol—was calling to announce that he was outside your apartment?

“Uh—can you give me ten minutes? I’m not exactly looking presentable at the moment,” you stammered, glancing down at your wrinkled pajamas and messy hair. Your reflection screamed “I-just-woke-up” and “don’t-look-at-me”.

“I—what I mean is!” You quickly corrected yourself, flustered. “I just woke up, so I might look a little… disgusting.”

The last word fell out awkwardly, and you cringed inwardly. Of all the words you could’ve chosen…

“Take your time, Ms. Ji.” His voice was calm, almost amused. You heard the call click off, leaving you in stunned silence.

Oh God, what was he doing here?

You dashed into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face in record time. The face staring back at you looked different now—the long hair you used to style meticulously was gone, impulsively cut to shoulder length last week in a fit of frustration and exhaustion. You sighed and brushed it diligently, making it look as presentable as possible. Changing out of your pajamas into something more decent—a casual blouse and jeans—you took a deep breath before heading outside.

Stepping out of your building, you spotted his sleek car parked along the road, and there he was—slipping out of the driver’s seat, looking effortlessly handsome despite the casualness of his attire. His usual sharp suit was gone, replaced by a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even without the formal suit jacket, his presence seemed to dominate the entire street. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, struggling to reconcile this man’s unexpected appearance outside your home with the same person you admired from afar at work.

Focus, Y/N.

“How are you?” Seungcheol asked, his gaze soft as it met yours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer verbally, so you just nodded stiffly, offering a tight smile. The truth was, you weren’t okay—not even close. And a part of you wanted him to understand that without you having to spell it out. But another part of you was wary, unsure how much he even knew or cared about what happened.

“I just found out about your termination this morning,” he began, and you blinked in surprise. You hadn’t expected this to be the topic of conversation. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, rooted in place as you stared at him. What was going on?

“I shouldn’t have let Ms. Shin handle things like that,” he continued, voice low, the frustration evident in his tone. “I knew she’s been trying to drag you down all this time. I knew you were the one carrying the department, handling all the toughest projects… That’s why I’m sorry.”

The Choi Seungcheol, the man who exuded confidence and charisma at every turn, now looked uncharacteristically small and uncertain standing before you. The apology caught you off guard. You had prepared yourself for cold professionalism, or maybe even indifference. But not this.

“I won’t force you to come back to the company,” he said gently. “That’s entirely your choice.”

He paused, looking as if he was weighing his next words carefully, then took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to lose the chance to tell you…”

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to breathe.

“I might like you,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. “Romantically.”

What?!

The world seemed to freeze around you as you stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. Seungcheol… liked you? The very same Choi Seungcheol who spent years being distant and impossible to read? He liked you, romantically? This couldn’t be real.

“I—I don’t know when it happened,” he continued, his expression a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “But somewhere along the way, I realized I was looking forward to seeing you every day. You were more than just a competent employee; you were someone I admired. And then… I started to miss you.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless. You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze as you tried to figure out what to say. Was it possible that you hadn’t just admired him from afar but had harbored deeper feelings too?

“I understand if this is too much for you right now,” he said softly, stepping back as if to give you space. “I just needed you to know… I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when I should’ve been. And I’m sorry that you had to go through all of this because of me.”

His voice was gentle, and for a moment, the street around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, suspended in this unexpected moment.

What could you possibly say? Words failed you, so you did the only thing you could—you nodded, acknowledging his apology and his confession, still unsure if you were dreaming or awake.

“Thank you… for telling me,” you managed to say quietly.

Things could never go back to the way they used to be.

[tpwk-formula1]

Lando Norris, Thin Crust, Red Sauce,Pineapple, BBQ Chicken , Vodka redbull, Sparkling Water, Coke, Yes

With a plus-size reader, if you can. I fear there's not many plus-size fics out there with lando. If you could please and thank you. 🧙‍♀️

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" bbq chicken “Gonna let me cum in you? I know you wanna have my baby” vodka redbull squirting sparkling water spitting coke spanking dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Plus size Fewtrell! reader

TW unprotected sex, squirting, spanking, creampie, rough Lando, talks of insecurities

WC 1600+

Y/N POV

"Love, I'm not feeling the best. I think I'm gonna stay in for the day," I tell Lando softly while he was talking to my brother about the plans for today.

"You were okay this morning, what's going on? What are you feeling?" Lando asks clearly getting worried.

"It's nothing major just think I ate the wrong thing this morning," I tell him softly not wanting the whole house to hear the conversation.

"Do you need us to get you anything?" Max asked clearly being worried. I just shake my head no before turning on my foot and heading towards Lando and I's room that we have been sharing while here on Holiday for summer break.

"Hey love, what's really going on? I can see this perplexed look on your face clearly showing me that you're overthinking something," Lando asks me after he had followed me into our room.

"No I promise I'm just having tummy issues," I continue to uphold the lie. Said lie falling from my lips far easier than it should, but I was used to faking illness to get out of something.

"Love, drop the act," Lando says softly making me groan at being caught.

"Lando, I- um- I'm just a little worried about the hike to the clay. I'm not sure I'll be able to do it as fast as the rest of you guys. Don't wanna hold you back," I tell Lando softly making his face drop in realization.

"Baby, no one cares if we have to take it slow," Lando tells me making me groan and shake my head.

"You don't get it love, you're an athlete surrounded by other athletes, your 'take it slow' is basically my sprinting," I tell him softly trying to hold back tears.

"i'm sorry. Maybe I'm not the best fit person for your lifestyle," I add softly watching Lando's face snap up and turn into a dark expression.

"Hey Max I think I'm gonna stay back with Y/N and take care of her," Lando walks to the bedroom door where he opens it and shouts to my brother.

"Okay! Maybe we can go again tomorrow if Y/N is up for it," Max shouts back before Lando is closing the door and striding towards me.

"Do not turn this into our breakup. As a couple it is our job to figure out how to make our lifestyles mesh. I don't give a fuck if you're not some Olympic athlete, I don't care if a one mile walk took us 100 years to complete, that's 100 years spent with the love of my life, so I'll be fucking damned if you think you're not 'good enough' to be with me," Lando stays while striding closer to me.

"Lan, I just think you might be happier with someone who can keep up with you and your friends," I tell him softly. I wasn't trying to argue and I sure as hell don't want to break up but it's a tough conversation we need to have.

"I've grown up with you and Max our entire life, I'm used to walking in the back with you, not because I was that slow but because even at 12 I genuinely liked you and any time I could spend with you I would," Lando tells me making me think back to when we were younger and he really would walk in the back of the pack with me always the last two to arrive. Even having Lando defend me a few times against my brother and his teasing words.

"I'm sorry I've just really been in my head a lot lately," I tell him softly making him hum and pull me into his arms.

"I know I could tell, but I thought it was cause you were stressed with work not because you had been stressing about our relationship," Lando tells me softly before placing a kiss on my forehead.

"I'm sorry for not talking to you sooner. I was just embarrassed," I admit making Lando scoff.

"I'm embarrassed that my own girlfriend was too worried to talk to me about what was bothering her pretty little mind," Lando tells me while kissing my forehead and leading us to the bed where we climb into it and throw on a random movie to watch.

Midway through the second movie Lando leans down and places a kiss on my lips and climbs into my lap.

"Lando, right now?" I questioned in a hushed tone as if anyone was still home.

"No one is here, and I need to show you who you belong to," Lando tells me while starting to pull his shirt over his head leaving me to start at his tanned chest.

Once Lando had discarded his shirt somewhere in the room he made quick work of pulling off my shirt leaving us both completely bare from the waist up.

"Fuck, love these tits so much," Lando mumbled before leaning down and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.

"Oh, Lan," I moan softly while arching my back bringing my tits even closer to his face.

Lando pulls away and roughly flips me onto my stomach where he pulls me up by the hips so I was presenting myself to him. I was only wearing a flimsy pair of sleep shorts I had thrown on a little bit ago to get more comfortable. Lando just yanks them down my legs and lets the pool at my knees where he starts slapping my ass.

"Ow, what is that for," I whine when I feel the continued spanking.

"You need to realize how fucking beautiful you are. I'm not gonna let you walk around thinking you're anything less than perfect. So everytime you sit down for the next day, you will be reminded," lando explains with a cocky smirk.

Once Lando had reddened my ass to his liking hi quickly yanks his briefs down before roughly burying his cock into my pussy and giving me no time to adjust before he is roughly thrusting into my sopping wet pussy.

"Look so pretty wrapped around my cock," Lando groans while still keeping the brutal pace.

"So good, Lan," I whine burying my face into the pillow to try and muffle my moans but lando roughly grips on my hair and pulls me face up.

"I wanna hear your screams," Lando tells me while thrusting harder and faster to try and pull the loudest noises from me.

"Fuck," I scream out when Lando continuously hits my G-spot only bringing me closer to cumming.

"Cum for me," Lando groans when he feels my pussy clenching around his cock in anticipation.

I let go almost instantly cumming all over Lando's cock and squirting all over the bedspread.

"Fuck such a messy girl," Lando groans while helping me ride out my orgasm before he picks up the pace again.

"God, I love when you get like this," Lando groans.

Lando pulls out suddenly before he flips me over onto my back and roughly starts fucking me in missionary.

"Fuck Lando," I scream at the new angle not fully prepared for the way I was feeling Lando.

In the midst of my loud moans, I feel Lando lean down over my face before roughly spitting in my mouth. Most of it went straight down my throat but some of it sprayed my face making me whimper slightly.

"Fuck, I love seeing your tears, the way you take my cock, opening your mouth like a good slut to take my spit, fuck you were made for me," Lando groans before starting to place with my sensitive clit again.

"You're gonna cum with me this time," Lando groans while speeding up his actions making me feel the build-up of my orgasm again.

"I'm gonna cum," I warn Lando knowing I wasn't gonna be able to hold back much longer reaching the point of no return far quicker than I would have liked.

“Gonna let me cum in you? I know you wanna have my baby,” Lando groans out.

"Yes, fill me up Lando, wanna have your baby," I beg desperate to cum again.

"Cum with me," Lando groans before his hips started to falter from their rough thrusting before I feel his cum start to paint my walls making me cry out in another squirting orgasm.

"Fuck," I scream as I feel my squirt spray all over Lando and I making a proper mess out of our bedding.

When Lando and I finally come down from the highs of our pleasure Lando is softly pulling out of my pussy before watching his cum leak from my gaping pussy with a smirk on his face.

"God, I love making you mine," Lando groans before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

"So good," I mumble out before turning into Lando's chest for comfort.

"Did so well, gonna have to clean this up before everyone gets home," Lando tells me with a smirk on his face making me groan in embarrassment.

Lando quickly got out of bed before turning the bath on where he let it fill up before coming to get me and he gently placed me in the bath before going into the room again to clean up the bedding so we had fresh sheets for when everyone arrived back.

After about 10 minutes Lando climbs into the bath me, letting my beck rest against his chest.

"I cleaned up all the evidence of how messy you get for me," Lando tells me with a smirk clearly laced in his voice. I just groan and try to hide my face in his neck while he just laughs.

"On a real note though, next time you feel like that promise me you'll talk to me," Lando tells me softly making me turn my head to face him.

"I promise," I tell him softly before leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips.

"i love you," I tell him softly making him smile before he tells me he loves me too.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine this tho:

Logan finding your journal full of things about him

found gif on @darlinggash

The moment you and Logan met the two of you clicked in an unusual way. Immediately getting on each other's nerves but having the same sense of humor. You both got grumpy and violent at times. The two of you started training together and growing as friends. There was no way in your brain that he saw you as anymore and as time passed fate proved you right.

But that didn't mean you didn't have feelings for him. Because you fell in love with Logan pretty quickly. The only reason why you were able to hide it is because you wrote about it. You wrote in detail about your feelings for him, instead of shoving them down or acting like a bumbling idiot. You trusted Logan and you were very comfortable around him. You didn't want that to change because of your feelings for him.

Logan just didn't think you felt the same way he felt that he didn't have a chance with you. That you deserved someone better than him, but he also didn't like to imagine you with anyone but him. Because he never thought he would find love. He didn't think he would find it in you but one day he just looked at you differently. He started noticing how beautiful you were, something he knew from the beginning. But it was starting to get hard to not say anything, to not kiss you. He didn't know if he could be your friend anymore.

Though he couldn't tell if you felt the same way, not until he found your notebook. Walking to your room, bringing his knuckles up to gentle rap against the open door. The door creaking open to reveal your empty room, your music playing from your speaker on your desk. A smile came over Logan's face as he stepped closer, one of Logan's favorite songs flowing through the speakers. Glancing down at the notebook on your desk in an almost bashful way as the apple of his cheeks rose. Then his eyes slightly squinted when seeing his name on the page, before moving in closer.

I feel guilty for the way I feel, I know I'm told to not be, that having feelings for a friend isn't usual. That it didn't mean have to mean anything, because there was no way he could feel the same way. He smelt like leather and tobacco, his musk filling my senses whenever he was around. Or when he touched me, that's when I felt really bad. Because I liked it for more than he knew, I didn't like being touched but I wanted this man to keep his hands on me all day. The idea was comforting, and the thought of his large muscular hands put on your body even if it was just your arm or your shoulder. You'd always lean into his touch, desperate for more. You told yourself you wouldn't get worked up, that you just be friends. But you didn't want to be his friend and it was getting harder to ignore.

Logan felt his stomach flip, swallowing down the lump in his stomach as he read something so private. Something intimate that you wrote about...someone who sounded a whole lot like him. He wasn't sure, but he knew you didn't have alot of other male friends. That he religiously wore his leather jacket even in 90-degree weather and smoked cigars like a chimney. You had sure that it had to be doing some type of damage at the rate he smoked. But talking about how made you wanted this guy to touch you, when you didn't like touch, something you warned him about in the beginning. Logan tried to respect it, but you never moved away like you did with others, you'd visibly flinch away when you didn't like it.

He leant down to keep reading from your notebook;

Last night, we stayed up late together, he'd been drinking but regardless he was still Logan. He frustrated you with because of a random that you blabbed about. Always trying to pick on you and pretend to be agitated, you hoped anyway. You always tried not to blush around him, but last night it just happened. You really hoped he didn't notice. Its why you couldn't look into his eyes, you were getting far too attached for just friends.

It was him. Logan turned the page in the notebook to continue to read.

Spending all this time with him is making me think about him subconsciously. His mossy green eyes worming their way into your dreams, fantasizing about your fingers in his hair, his hips thrusting into yours. You didn't know what he looked like down there but you knew what he looked like shirtless. God, you wanted to feel him. You felt so creepy dreaming and writing about this. But it was what happened in your dream, and it didn't help that you were in love with him.

Fuck. He really shouldn't be reading this right now. But before he could read anymore, the door creaked open and you smiled over at him, "Hey, Lo." His eyes went to your tiny little shorts you were wearing, god all of this was driving him insane. Logan couldn't let this slide though, he just had to tease you, wanted to see that blush he'd evidently missed the other night. He blamed the dim lightly, but the sun was shining bright through the window. Your eyes going to his hand that laid on the page of your journal, without him even saying a word a flush bloomed on your cheeks.

"You've been writing about me, mouse." Logan stated, he didn't even have to question it. He also made fun of your voice, when you get worked up your started to squeak a little your voice getting high pitched. His fingers dance along the lines and scribbles on the paper, circling his digit around his name.

"I-I can explain." You mumbled, your hands coming up to feign innocence.

"I think this did all the explaining I need." Logan continued, he dipped his down to read from the book, "I think I need to move on from him, but he was your best friend, and he was perfect. You think I'm perfect?" He teased as you darted towards the journal as he yanked it away from the table before bringing it up over his head. You let out a squeak as you jumped, the sound and action making him laugh at your height difference. You lightly shoved at Logan's buff chest, as he barely moved an inch as you hit at his arm.

"Give it back!" You cried, as you glared into his eyes. The look on your face warmed his heart as he shoved the journal far away from you. "H-how do you know it's about you?" Logan smiled at you, the lines on his face crinkling as he made eye contact with you before looking up at the book.

"The other day Logan stopped me from falling, and my hands gripped his bicep, I could the ridges and veins, god you were just crazy for him."

"Logan." You whined, before flipped the book shut before leaning down to hand it back to you. You snatched it from his grip, bringing it to his chest.

"Wanna know my favorite part, got it memorized, liked it so much." Logan hummed, as he stepped closer to your retreating form. You felt like prey, Logan the predator swirling in you, his eyes were dark and his steps purposeful. "His mossy green eyes worming their way into your dreams, fantas-."

"Logan pleasse stop." You pleaded, your doe eyes looking up at his as you fell back against the door as it shut behind you. Logan's hand coming over your head as he leant into you.

"-fantasizing about your fingers in his hair, his hips thrusting into yours." Logan's voice grew darker as he dipped his head into your neck, the hot air emitting from his mouth fanning over your skin. Making you shiver as one of his hands fell to your waist as his eyes dipped to meet yours. "How long have you been writing about me?"

"When did we meet?" You retorted, a anxious giggle falling from your mouth as your eyes darting away from his in shyness. Logan sighed out, his nose meeting the side of your cheekbone the scruff his beard threading to rub against your jaw.

"Well I'd like to make your fantasies come true." Logan grumbled into your ear as goosebumps rose across your neck. Your hand fell to his waist as you moved in closer to him.

"Please do." You panted, throwing caution to the wind with Logan so close and looking at you like that.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[mxstly-melancholy]

Logan request!!

Logan finally had enough and fucks you the way he’s always wanted putting you in your place then you have to deal with the mansion over hearing him

Everyone’s just happy you guys don’t argue anymore instead your loud in a different way

Logan X FemReader SMUT!!

Warnings: No y/n, fem reader (she/her) , pet names, sub/dom if you squint, arguments, embarrassment, breeding. squirting.. lmk if there is more.

Logan has been super cranky lately, but to be fair, so have you. And this has caused a lot of tension and arguments between you two. You aren’t sure why it’s been this way, it probably ranges from the constant stress of missions to the lack of sleep. Who knows at this point, but everyone including yourself is getting sick of the arguments.

And they’re not even real arguments either, they’re just loud disagreements about stupid small things.

And it seems like today you were the one to start a disagreement..

You and Logan were in the mansion's kitchen, talking about a mission you both came back from. It was exhausting, and the last thing either of you should be doing is having a beer, but here you are..

“I just really don’t think we did the right thing, that’s all I’m saying.” You put your hands up in defense. Logan’s eyebrows drew together annoyed.

“What do you mean? We did the only thing we could do. There was no other option.” He huffs.

You sigh, “Look, all I’m trying to say is we did have other options, they just didn’t come to mind until we literally had no other option but to act on what we did.”

You watched as Logan downed the rest of his beer, annoyance on his face as he sat at the table across from you.

“What’s your deal?” He asks seriously, crossing his arms.

The sudden change in demeanor made your heart race.

“What?”

“You heard me, what’s your deal?” He repeats.

You anxiously shrug and awkwardly laugh. “I don’t understand what you mean. I'm just sharing my-“

“Why have you been so wound tight? Everything has to be an argument with you lately.” He huffs.

Your eyes widen at the comment, feeling attacked almost.

“I'm sorry? You’re putting the blame all on me? What about the ones you caused? Just gonna forget about that now?” You stand up angrily.

Logan stands up and walks around the table, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the kitchen wordlessly.

“Wh- Logan where are we going?” You nervously ask.

He was tense, his jaw clenched as he speed walked to their shared room.

He didn’t reply. Just continued on until they reached their room. He opened the door, almost running inside & locking the door. He picks you up and places his hands under your ass, catching you by surprise.

“Logan-“ you whisper breathlessly. He walks over to the bed and places you down on it, crawling on top of you.

“I’m gonna fuck that attitude out of you.” He mumbles, not letting you reply before smashing your lips together. His hands roam over your body, teasing and seducing. You give in, wrapping yourself around him. With His free hand, his claws come out and rips your pants down the middle in one motion. You gasp from fear but also excitement.

He throws the ripped pants off of you, then before you know it his hand is at your heat, rubbing slow circles on your clit. He smirks, watching your face contort to pleasure and desperation.

“Logan… fuck.” You moan. He kisses and sucks at your neck, leaving deep purple marks along it. Your hips buck up into his hand, his pace too slow.

“You want more, huh bub? You gonna stop being a little brat if I give it to you good?” He whispers in your ear. You nod rapidly, your hands clawing at his shoulders.

“Please Logan. Please.”

And with that he sits up, quickly removing his own pants. He pulls his briefs down and his cock springs out, head red and leaking pre already.

Your mouth waters as he grabs your ankles, pushing your legs towards your head, putting you in the mating press position.

From past experiences, this position means he’s not going to hold back.

He rubs his cock against your folds, gathering your slick on him.

“Fuck baby. So fuckin’ wet fu’me.” He nearly growls.

You whimper as he starts to push his way in, tingles shooting up your body. He goans, white knuckling while holding you down by the back of your knees.

He starts to thrust slowly, the wet noises your pussy makes as he thrusts into you makes his cock twitch. He can’t help but have his eyes flutter, gaining a faster pace every minute.

“Logan- please. Fuck- more!”

And with that his hips snap into you and he’s going to pound town. He growls, teeth showing as he looks down at you with possession.

“Mine, all mine.” He grunts, leaning down and biting into your shoulder. You moan loudly, and unfortunately Logan isn’t being too quiet either, you already know everyone can hear you two but at this very moment in time, you don’t care.

“Y-yours-“ you moan back. Your body shivers as you squirt on his cock unexpectedly, adding even more slick to the mix.

“Fuuuck yes, that’s right baby.” He smiles, bringing a hand down and rubbing at your clit while he fucks you.

Your legs shake, eyes closing.

“Uh uh- look at me.” He grabs your face with his free hand. “You better be a good girl after this. After I’ve been so nice and fucked you senseless.” He says with short breaths. You can barely even understand him, the white noise in your ears and the static in your eyes only getting louder as you’re about to cum.

“Y-yes sir- yes- I’m gonna- I need to cum!” You whimper loudly.

With one final slap to your clit you’re cumming hard, clenching around his cock so tightly that his claws retract and push right through the headboard of the bed. He cums hard right after you, a deep guttural growl leaving his throat as he paints your walls white. You hold onto him tightly as he fucks his cum into you, your legs shaking from overstimulation with every thrust.

“Fuuuckk.” He groans.

The morning after, you two leave your room after a shower & getting dressed for the day. You notice Scott smirking as he walks by.

And as you’re walking down the hall, you see people whispering. Logan looks smug as could be, and you were completely oblivious.

“What’s going on Logan?” You whisper to him,

He smiles, “Really?” He wraps his arm around you.

“You have no idea?”

Your face heats up with embarrassment once you realize.

“Oh.. damn it..” you mumble.

Then Ororo walks by you two. “Glad to see you two aren’t arguing anymore!” She smiles.

You stop and hide your face in your hands.

“This is so embarrassing.”

Logan laughs, “Hey, it’s not so bad. At least they’re happy for us.” He clears his throat. “Oh, don’t let me forget, I have to get us a new headboard..”

[justagalwhowrites]

Oral Fixation - A TLOU One Shot

It's your boyfriend Joel's birthday but what do you give the man who has given you so much? AKA You learn how to give Joel a blow job. A one-shot set in the Lavender universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

CW: Oral sex, mild age gap (Joel is turning 33, reader is 21 almost 22), mild description of past sexual encounter involving oral sex that wasn't the best, Joel is almost disturbingly happy because he hasn't been traumatized yet RIP trauma-free Joel, unprotected P in V sex, no use of Y/N, 18+ only minors DNI

Length: 4.5k

A/N: The final part of the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration! Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's nanny and has been seeing Joel for about six months.

Masterlist | Lavender Masterlist | AO3

September, 2000

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you said, all but clinging to Cassie’s arm as the two of you made your way through the adult store. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t this, neon colored silicone penises and intimidatingly tiny scraps of lace everywhere you looked. 

“And I can’t believe you don’t own a vibrator,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude, with the way you and the DILF go at it I’m pretty sure you’ve had more sex than I have at this point.” 

Your cheeks got hot but… she was probably right. You and Joel had sex a LOT. So much that it was hard to believe that, just six months earlier, you’d still been a virgin. Sure, you doubted that sex with anyone else was even half as good as it was with Joel but it felt like you’d been denying yourself a whole world of good things because you’d been reluctant to make that leap for so long. Now, you wanted to make up for lost time, something that Joel was happy to oblige. 

But, because you were so new to it, you didn’t really know much and, what’s worse, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. 

Which is why you’d turned to Cassie in the first place. Joel’s birthday was coming up and you’d drawn a complete blank on what to get the man. You’d never gotten anyone a birthday gift who wasn’t your grandmother or your friend. What the hell did you get a boyfriend? What the hell did you get a man? 

“You, naked, ready to recreate the filthiest porn the guy’s got,” Cassie said, not even looking up from the latest issue of Cosmo as she did. “And, because it’s you, bake him a cake or something. He’ll be thrilled.” 

“I don’t know that Joel watches porn,” you crinkled your nose. That made her look up. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked, incredulous. “Babes. He’s a man. Of course he watches porn.” 

“I’m sure he would if things were different,” you said. “But he has a kid at home, we have to fight for privacy, I don’t think he’s exactly sitting down and putting on some…” 

“He is,” she said, closing the magazine now. “I promise you, he is. Maybe less now that you’re in the picture but he definitely is. Stashed under his bed or in some shoebox at the back of his closet is a pile of all his dirtiest fantasies and all you have to do is gift wrap yourself, ready to fulfill them.” 

So you might have done some snooping the next time you were at Joel’s before he got home from work. 

Maybe. 

Just a little. 

And yeah, Cassie might have been right. There might have been a box - one a bit bigger than a shoebox but not much bigger - that had tapes and magazines inside. You took a quick inventory, looking at the covers of the videos and flipping through the pages of the more well-worn magazines. 

It seemed both invasive and oddly impersonal, rifling through something that was mass produced and clearly not intended for you to see but was something that it seemed like you should know. The women in the magazines and on the covers of the tapes were so much more… everything than you were. More sexy, more confident, more knowledgable. It made your stomach twist. 

Was this what Joel really wanted? He was older than you and you’d been a late bloomer in the romance department. Of course he had more experience but he’d never made it sound like anything was missing from your sex life. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe what he really wanted was something more like whatever someone named Candy was doing on the back of this VHS sleeve. 

It seemed like the least you could do for Joel was find a way to give him what he wanted.

So Cassie had convinced you to come to this store to figure out something to do for him for his birthday. Not that you had much idea what that would be. 

“What’s his favorite color?” She asked, examining the tiny scraps of lace. 

“Forest green?” You asked more than answered, examining something that you were pretty sure was a bra but seemed to be missing some key components. You were about to move on to something else when one of the movies playing on the opposite wall caught your eye. It was one of the actresses from the tapes at Joel’s, you recognized her. She was looking hungrily at a cock before taking it into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss with a satisfied groan. 

Cassie noticed where you were staring and joined you, smirking a little. 

“Like watching someone get their dick sucked, eh?” She teased, elbowing you lightly. 

You glared at her. 

“I just…” You looked back at the screen. “I think Joel has that video.” 

“Really?” She said, brows raised, looking back at the screen as the woman started to slide up and down the thick cock. “Well, that’s simple enough. Just blow him, wham bam thank you ma’am, you’re set.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Oh don’t tell me you suck him off too much as it is,” she said. “Your sex life is already insufferably perfect.” 

“No,” you said, defensive, your cheeks getting hot. “I just…” 

“Just what?” She asked when you stayed quiet a bit too long. 

“I’ve never… done that,” you said, looking back at the screen as the woman there hollowed out her cheeks and moaned. 

“What!” Cassie yelped and you shushed her as the other people in the store turned to stare. “You’ve never…” 

“Not with Joel,” you said quickly. “I did once with a guy but it didn’t go great and I really didn’t like it and honestly I think Joel might be too big to…” 

“Too big?” She grabbed your arm, her eyes wide. “Babes, you said he was big but like… what do you mean too big? Gimme a ballpark, like…” she tugged you over to a wall of remarkably life-like dildos and pointed to one on the larger end. “That big?” 

“No,” you said and she looked relieved for a moment before you pointed to one that was even bigger. “More like that one.” 

Cassie’s jaw dropped, looking between you and the silicone dick in awe. 

“That’s what the DILF is packing?” 

“Can you please not call him that?” 

“You big slut!” She was practically beaming. “Taking that for your first time? You deserve a medal!”

“Can we just…” 

“That’s it, you’re sucking his dick for his birthday,” she said, grabbing flavored lube, throat numbing spray and a copy of the tape that was playing overhead. “As often as he apparently goes down on you? Seems like the least you can do is return the favor as he turns… what, 47?” 

You glared at her and she smirked at you. 

“33,” you said. 

“And you don’t want me to call him a DILF,” she said, grabbing a surprisingly conservative set of lingerie and a small vibrator on her way to the counter. “Come on, we’ll turn you into an oral champ before you know it!”

You watched the video with Cassie that night after you had half a bottle of cheap wine in your system. The woman on screen seemed so… into it. The one time you’d gone down on someone was the summer before you left for college, going out with a boy you met at the movie theater when you took the kids you were babysitting there to see Hercules. He was cute, nice, didn’t carry the baggage a lot of the boys you’d gone to high school with did. On your fourth date, you were making out in his car and he’d nudged your head down lower and lower until it was in his lap. He pulled his cock out and you cautiously, hesitantly, took him in your mouth and you did try to do what you thought he wanted while taking it slow. But it didn’t take long before he was moaning and thrusting up into your mouth and you gagged as he pushed your head down further on his dick. You’d all but ripped yourself away, coughing and sputtering, and he half heartedly apologized before trying to push your head to his lap again. You didn’t go for it that time and he took you home. You didn’t go out with him again, deciding to write off men until you were away at college and hopefully meeting one who was fine with you doing things like not sucking their dick. 

Which, Joel was. Or seemed to be, anyway. But if he enjoyed it - if it felt like it was something that was missing from your sex life - you wanted to give it to him. He’d given you so much, you wanted to give him everything. You just needed to figure out how to do it. 

After you giggled your way through the video the first time, you started it again as Cassie gave you some tips: How to breathe through your nose, how to swallow around your gag reflex, how to use your tongue, how guys liked when you choked on it a little. It felt almost like you were in class, taking notes on a piece of scratch paper you mentally vowed to set on fire after you practiced a little with a cucumber so no one had to know that you needed someone to teach you this stuff, stuff that seemed like it should come naturally to you. 

“Just use the throat spray, use the lube and breathe through your nose,” she said when she left to go home the next morning. “You’ll have him eating out of your hand.” 

“Right,” you said, trying to ignore the tight knot of nerves that had settled in your stomach. “I can do it.” 

You carefully selected a Joel-sized cucumber at the grocery store and tried to not feel like an idiot as you followed Cassie’s advice as you practiced leading into Joel’s birthday. It wasn’t as bad when there wasn’t someone shoving your head down on their lap though it still wasn’t your favorite thing. But for Joel? You’d deal. 

The day you were going to celebrate his birthday, the reality of it set in. If there was one thing you were an expert in by now, it was your boyfriend’s cock and your boyfriend’s cock was… big. What if the throat spray didn’t work as well when you weren’t the one in control of what was going in your mouth? Worse, what if you were just bad at it? What if he had an ex who was as good at sucking him off as that porn star would be and you’d be struggling to measure up the whole time? 

You were rarely nervous with Joel anymore but you were weirdly nervous as you made him dinner - chicken fried steak - and tried to not let it show as the two of you ate together and had drinks and cake while watching Alien in his living room after. 

“You spoil me way too damn much, baby,” Joel said as your head was nestled against his chest, his lips in your hair. You could feel him smile against you as he kissed you there. “Best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.” 

“Well, I might have one more thing for you,” you said, sitting up from him and smiling a little, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Really?” He cocked a smile at you, his cheek dimpling. “Does it involve you naked?” 

“It might,” you teased, relaxing a little as you looked at him. This was Joel, the safest man you knew, the person you loved more than any other. It would be OK. “Want to go to your room and find out?” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he winked, getting up and helping you off the couch. Once you were up stairs, the two of you kissed your way down the hall but he moaned as you pulled away from him and nudged him back toward the bed. 

“Just stay put,” you said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he called as you disappeared into his bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to take a deep, calming breath before going to his linen cupboard and pulling out the throat spray, lube and lingerie you’d stashed away earlier. You used the spray first, wincing at the antiseptic-like taste of it, before you quickly stripped, balling up your sundress and bra and pulling on the deep green lacy babydoll set Cassie had picked for you. As you examined yourself in the mirror - fluffing your hair and adjusting your breasts in the sheer cups - you gave your best friend this much: she knew how to help make you comfortable. The set wasn’t too revealing or over the top but still highlighted your curves and put all the parts of you Joel seemed to like best on display. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” you muttered before taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, the strawberry flavored lube clutched tight in your hand. You looked your reflection in the eye and tried to get lost in the almost-porn star version of yourself in the mirror. 

“You got this,” you said almost silently, giving yourself a single, resolute nod before going for Joel’s room again. 

He was sitting obediently where you’d left him, watching the bathroom door. You draped yourself against the frame, popping a hip out to accentuate your curves, one arm stretched high over your head against the wood. Joel’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 

“Like what you see?” You asked more confidently then you felt. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he said reverently. “Gonna gimme a heart attack, looking that damn good.” 

“Well don’t go dropping dead on me now,” you teased, walking toward him in what you hoped was a sexy way and not something that made you look like an idiot. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet.” 

He put his hands on your waist when you reached him but, instead of straddling him, you reached down and spread his legs so you could step between them. You knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as you did, reaching for his jeans to open them. 

“What…” he frowned, looking down as you freed his cock, thick and long and hard. 

“Told you,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sultry and not nervous. “I had something for you.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you licked his shaft from root to tip, his skin velvet smooth and salty on your tongue. He groaned as you did and you took a deep breath as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking him gently as you did. 

Even just that was a lot and, as your tongue teased him, you squeezed some of the flavored lube into your hand before you spread it over his shaft, working him with your hand, your heart racing. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you started taking more of him into your mouth, licking and sucking and trying to focus on breathing through your nose as you did. It took more time than you really wanted to get all of him in your mouth, swallowing past your numbed gag reflex as best you could to take his length into your throat. You moaned as you did, sucking him hard, hollowing your cheeks like the girl in the video had done and he moaned, too, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. “Goddamn, your mouth…” 

You would have smiled at that if your mouth wasn’t open so wide. Instead, you started trying to work his cock the same way you did the cucumber in practice, hopefully the same way the girl did in the video he had. 

Joel’s breaths started coming quicker, needy little pants dripping from his lips as his cock dripped in your mouth and you took the encouragement, trying to move faster as you did, trying to take him as deep as you could every time. 

But Joel was big and you were almost positive he was getting bigger as you worked him, his cock swelling even further, his precome salty at the back of your throat, and the faster you moved the harder he was to take. Eventually, even with the spray, it was too much and you choked, coughing and gagging enough that you had to pull back from him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Woah, you alright?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning at you, still a little breathless as he did. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded, trying to keep yourself from coughing, massaging your throat as you did. “Sorry, I just…” 

“Don’t apologize, baby, goddamn,” he laughed once. “Not after doin’ all that for me…” 

You smiled a little sheepishly, feeling like you could breathe again. But the numb feeling at the back of your throat was gone. 

“I can do it again,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I just… I got some throat spray and I just need to…” 

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together, frowning deeper this time. 

“Throat spray?”

You nodded. 

“It’s numbing?” You said, almost like it was a question. “I hadn’t really done this much before and I really wanted to do it like…” 

“Like what?” He asked and your eyes went wide. Shit. You hadn’t meant to say that part. “Like what, baby?” 

“Like the woman in one of the videos in your closet?” You said sheepishly, your heart pounding, everything else coming out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday and Cassie suggested finding out what porn you liked and trying to recreate it so I might have looked through some of your things, I promise it was just to surprise you and give you what you wanted and…” 

“Baby,” he cut you off gently, tucking his cock back into his jeans. “Hey, it’s OK, c’mere.” He tugged you up on the bed beside him and you kept your eyes determinedly on your hands. “Think you can look at me?” 

You took a deep breath but listened, gnawing on your lower lip as you did. 

“There are those pretty eyes of yours,” he smiled a little, cupping your cheek. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate the thought - don’t think any woman’s ever done something like that for me - but honey, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do. I really don’t want to do something that’s rough enough on your body that you gotta numb yourself to get through it.” 

You frowned. 

“But you go down on me…” 

“Yeah, because I like to,” he said. “Like seein’ what I can do to you but that doesn’t mean you have to do it back to me, not unless you want to. And if you do want to, you don’t need to do it so hard that you hurt yourself. It’s not good for me if it’s not good for you, too.” 

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. 

“Besides,” he smiled a little. “Haven’t needed those videos in a while. Honestly, I kinda forgot I even still had ‘em.” 

You scoffed. 

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he said. “Haven’t used ‘em since you and I got together, that’s for damn sure. And for a few months before that I may or may not have had better luck thinkin’ about this sexy nanny I had working for me…” 

“Oh really?” You teased lightly, heat taking the place of the nerves in your stomach. 

“Really,” he said, almost unsettlingly earnest. “I’ve been yours for a while, baby. And that’s because I love you, don’t have a damn thing to do with what you do in bed.” 

You smiled softly and kissed him, his lips gentle on yours for a moment before it deepened, turning hot and needy. 

Joel tugged you back on the bed with him, one hand splaying wide over your back, the other slipping into the soft lace of your lingerie to cup your breast. But, before you got too distracted, you pulled back from him, making him frown a little. 

“But what if I want to,” you said, biting your lip again. 

His frown deepened. 

“Want to what?” 

“Suck your cock,” you said, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks got. 

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes darkening. 

“Because I do want to,” you said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” 

“You sure?” He asked. “Because I know I can be… a lot to take.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Think I know how big your cock is, Joel. And I know what I want.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, lying on his back, freeing his cock and stroking it as he did. “Gotta take it easy and let me help.” 

You nodded eagerly before settling near his hips, taking his length in your hand and stroking him up and down, running your thumb over his leaking tip. When you looked at him now, you weren’t intimidated. Instead, you were hungry for him, wanting to feel him deep inside you in a different way, your mouth watering with it. 

You lowered yourself over him, licking his head, your tongue wide and flat against him and Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in the blankets on the bed. You took a moment to really experience him, the taste of him, the heady concentration of the scent of him in the thatch of coarse hair at his base, the tender softness of his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising but you wanted more, more of all of it. 

So you took more, his tip disappearing into your mouth slow and easy. 

“Fuck, there you go baby,” he was damn near panting with need and you smiled a little around his intrusion, at what you were doing to him. “Nice and slow.” 

You moaned as you sank lower, easing more and more of him into your mouth before rising up and then taking a little more of him, your tongue pressed tight to his shaft as you did again and again. 

And then he was at the back of your throat, no longer numbed, and you tried to do what Cassie had told you to do: Swallow him past your gag reflex to get all of him inside. 

It worked, at first, your lips making it almost to the base of his shaft as he groaned. But it didn’t last, your body quickly trying to reject the thick heft of him in your throat, making you gag. This time, though you didn’t try and force it, pulling back quickly but leaving his head in your mouth. 

“You OK?” He asked, his voice strained, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head. You just nodded, his tip still in your mouth. “Here, gimme your hand.” 

You obeyed and Joel guided your fingers to the base of his shaft. 

“Just…” you could hear the desperation in his voice. “Hold on like that, don’t gotta take it all. Feel the most at the tip, anyway.” 

You nodded and worked your way lower again, a little faster this time, adjusting your grip so you were still taking most of him into your mouth but not quite hitting your gag reflex. Joel’s breaths grew sharper, more desperate and you could feel him straining to hold back from fucking up into you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of power at that, the way you could make him almost lose himself to pleasure. 

You started to work him faster, your tongue pressing and curling around him, your mouth working in tandem with your hand. It wasn’t long before you found your rhythm over him, rising and falling, sucking and licking, savoring every inch of him you could take. And even though you were focused on making Joel feel good, it was making you tight and needy, too, the hand not around his cock finding your slit, fingers trailing through the wetness that had grown there. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Takin’ me so well, baby, doin’ so damn good.” 

You moaned, working him harder, faster as your fingers grew firmer on your clit and you suddenly, desperately, needed all of him in your mouth, gag reflex be damned. 

So you took all of him, moaning as his head slipped into your throat, sucking him hard and fast and you felt him twitch in your mouth before he all but ripped you away from him, leaving you stunned for a moment. 

But then he damn near jumped between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side and pushing into you. You gasped at the stretch of him, your pussy already tightening around him. Joel’s hips snapped into yours just as fast as you’d been sucking him before. 

“Ain’t gonna last,” he said, burying his face in your neck and kissing the delicate skin there. “Too fuckin’ good at that, Jesus…” 

You could only moan in response, your own orgasm building quickly, your fingers tugging at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer, your pussy drawing tight around him for a second before you fell apart. Your orgasm was so powerful you couldn’t move, crying out with the force of it as Joel fucked into you twice more before he came, too, pressing himself deep inside as he spilled into you.

Joel collapsed, spent, on top of you after, still fully clothed and panting for breath as you held him close. 

“Holy shit baby,” he said eventually, still a little breathless. 

You laughed quietly. 

“Did I measure up to the video?” You teased. 

He pulled back from you, looking you over for a moment, like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not. 

“Think you know the answer to that,” he said, kissing you gently as he slid himself from you and lay beside you. He tugged you against him as he settled, tucking your head against his chest. “But in case it wasn’t clear, yeah. You beat ever damn porno I ever watched, ain’t even close.” 

You smiled, proud. 

“Good,” you said. “Because… I liked doing that.” 

You felt him lift his head to look at you before dropping back down to the bed. 

“Really?” 

“Yup,” you said, tracing your fingers over the outline of his pecs through his shirt. “Think I’ll want to do it again.”

“Sure as hell won’t get any arguments from me.” 

“There is a downside, though,” you said, sitting up just enough to look at him. 

“What’s that?” He frowned and you smiled. 

“Now I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to get you for your birthday next year.” 

He laughed and tucked you back against his chest. 

“Just keep givin’ me you, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t get any better than that.” 

A/N: I missed Joel and Doc so I wrote this. Thanks for reading them even more than a year after Lavender ended.

Happy birthday, Joel!

Love you all!

[hollowtones]

my month-late PAX West post (& a catalogue of some things I saw and did and bought in September / late August)

PAX West was very fun this year. It was my first ever PAX and it was my first convention at all in maybe a decade. Any excuse to see friends is a good one & I love hanging out with the RTVS crew whenever I have the time and money to travel. ^_^ I even got to see some friends I've never seen in person before!!! (Thank you to Jill and Evan for the "Petal Crash" pin & thank you to Taxi for stealing my name tag by accident.)

I am very shy, and I have very severe social anxiety that causes me a lot of problems in my day-to-day life, so I almost didn't go to the RTVS meetup. People there were very sweet, though, so I'm glad I did. It feels very heartening to have people come up to you and tell you what the things you've made have meant to them. It was very hard to not cry. LOL

If you stopped by to say hi, thank you very much. I've been thinking about it through all of September and smiling a lot about it. ^_^

The rest of this post is largely pics of things Puzz and I picked up for ourselves. (And a little bit of talking about some other things we did.) I thought it would be fun to catalogue them. I tend to be a little thrifty, so I got to splurge on my wife. LOL

These were mostly things we got for Puzz because I didn't want to worry about lugging things home in a suitcase. But she keeps telling me they're our things, which makes me smile every time I think about it. Some of the pins are for me. I'd like to put them on my backpack... Hopefully they don't fall off. Jackie and Dodogama are friends.

The "Chicory" bag is a bit of a funny story. Puzz and I saw the "Beastieball" booth in the corner of the indie section. Very fun demo. Very cute booth. They have cool merch! I thought I saw Lena Raine working the booth, and I got really shy & nervous about making a poor impression, so I just kind of hid behind my partner. (I wish I had said hi, in retrospect... but we live and we learn...) So we just kind of shuffle off to the merch desk and talk to a very nice man there while we pick up some things. I work up the guts to say that I really like these games and that they mean a lot to me!! The guy says, well thank you, that means a lot to me and the team. Wow! Real swell guy, I'm thinking to myself. A day or two later Puzz and I are out to lunch with some friends and I just suddenly go eyes wide & mouth agape because I put two and two together in my head and realize Oh holy shit that was Greg Lobanov wasn't it. LOL

Puzz found a cheap copy of "999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors" for the DS at a retro game store's pop-up. They also had "A Bug's Life" for Game Boy Colour and a strategy guide for "Gex 3", both of which I wish I had picked up.

Mr. Basculin was a gift from Jake. Good news! Mr. Basculin is still alive.

This is all stuff that was given to me as gifts. (Aside from the con badges. They make you pay for those.) You've probably already seen the Bibi that Jake made me. "Chicken Run" was also from him. "Zapper" was from Puzz and the Gumby game (& the Bad Boe sticker) was from Scorpy. These games fuckin suck asshole!!!!!!!!! I'm obsessed with them & I'll cherish them forever. I also got a little rock and a human dog keychain.

I think Scorpy said a fan gave this to him at PAX East to pass to me eventually. I'm having a hard time reading the @ on it, but on the off-chance you see this: thank you so much. Every time I think about it I get a little teary-eyed. I want to get myself a little picture frame for it. (This is the first time someone's given me fanart like this before, and it made me very emotional. LOL)

Puzz and I only got 2-day passes for PAX, so we spent the rest of our time in Seattle hanging out with friends and seeing the sights. I don't feel like digging all the photos out right now, but we went to a really fucking nice jazz club (Dimitriou's Jazz Alley - great ambience, really good food, we saw Keiko Matsui live which was life-changing), we visited MoPOP (I hadn't been in years! It was alright! Puzz had some capital-t Thoughts about the whole place which was fun to listen to!), we rode the trains, I got a big bag of Dicks, we walked around downtown. There was this really nice coffee shop that I keep having dreams about, so I hope I can go back to Seattle soon. (Or at least eventually, next year.) Then we went to Portland for a day to say hi to a friend because the state was nearby.

Then we went back to Puzz's place in California. Then there was a major heatwave & a bunch of wildfires nearby... So we didn't have the chance to get out much in September. But that's okay. We've both been tired lately & I think we both badly needed some dedicated Not Doing Things time. It's just a shame that it was enforced by Dangerous Weather Conditions.

We got to visit some local friends and I got to try out more Bog-Standard Mediocre American Food. (Dunkin Donuts is just Tim Hortons. Olive Garden is kind of scary but the salad was really good and the breadsticks were fine. I had a middling hamburger from Jack In The Box tonight. Their milkshake was very good. I'm sure I'm forgetting others.) I went to a Macy's for the first time and the layout of the store made me have a panic attack. We went for nice walks and saw lots of nice critters and plants. I got to swim! I watched a mediocre PlayStation presentation! I turned 30 years old! Puzz took me to a very fancy and really nice Italian place for my birthday, in case you were worried that I was only eating garbage here. LOL

We got a lot of books.

Maybe too many. Also a Miles Davis vinyl for myself & some Gunpla as an early birthday gift for Puzz. And also the cookbook was a gift from family. But I'm very excited to tuck into more of these, hopefully soon. Some were for me and some were for Puzz but knowing us we're going to go "hey, I liked this one, you check it out" or "hey, I didn't like this one, but maybe you will" for a lot of them. I'm gonna start with "Annihilation" and the game essays book. ("House of Leaves" is a second copy for us, because my copy was originally Puzz's and I wanted them to be able to read it too.) I don't have room in my bags for much more than what I came here with, so we're gonna ship some of the books to each other when we're done reading.

It's been a very nice month... I feel very thankful to have a life full of love like this. I don't think I have anything else to add to this post! Thanks for reading.

[tteotlma]

Missed Every Inch

Older Bf!Logan x Reader (3.2kw)

a/n: got this idea based off this post ^ bc i’ve been thinking a lot abt old man logan lately.. so enjoy 3k words of pure smut.

tw: 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, overstimulation, rough sex, light degradation/teasing, power dynamics, breeding, kink/multiple orgasms, slightly aggressive behavior (e.g. tearing clothing), cockwarming, heavy on missionary, p in v, pw/op

—

Alternatively, older bf!logan doing the whole “fuck, I missed you” thing when he slides inside you after not being able to for a whole two weeks.

How he ever let that happen he doesn’t know, schedules became hectic, nights became short, and fourteen days later he’s as riled up as a bull seeing red — well not exactly but either way Logan is not about to let this continue any longer.

Sure the both of you had small moments here and there, like your shared morning showers, warm embraces and passionate kisses at the door before either of you left for the day, video calls during lunches that usually ended with Logan teasing you about giving him something to keep him going and you complying by quickly flashing the camera. Giggling shyly when Logan would let out a whistle. And all would be great until you hang up, or leave his sight and he remembers how long it’s been since he’s really felt your true warmth. God the more he thinks about it, the more he’s gonna blow his load right in his plaid pajama pants.

He paces back and forth shirtless in your shared bedroom. He’s been home alone for three hours now, and you messaged him thirty minutes ago saying you were on your way home meaning you should be walking through the front door any second.

He has one hand stroking his chin and the other hand low on his hip trying to decide if he should be nonchalant or just say to hell with it and jump you as soon as you walk in the door.

He hears the door to your shared apartment open, and he jumps out of his skin. He’s acting so out of character but — he’s really desperate. He says to hell with it and he swings open the bedroom door only to run right into you.

“Hi,” You look up at him, with a small smile.

Logan looks at you for a brief moment before he breaks and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in and using the other hand to cradle the back of your head. He pulls you in for a heated kiss, the kind that ignites the heat in your chest that slowly spreads to the tips of your fingers.

You become pliant in his arms, letting your weight and balance rely solely on Logan as he continues to move his lips against yours. He pulls away for a second allowing you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer.

A long moan leaves your lips as he slowly drags his tongue along the inside of your mouth. He gives your tongue a slow and gentle suck before he pulls away.

“Hey baby,” He says, a smug look on his face. He wraps both arms around your waist, hands resting on the swell of your ass as he starts to walk the both of you back into the bedroom.

”What’s gotten into you?” You ask, as he begins to nose at your temple.

“I’m just glad you’re home now.” He says trailing kisses from your temple to your neck. Your hand snakes from around the back of his neck, and slowly trails down before stopping on his bare chest. Your palm catches the faint beating of Logan’s heart rapid, and pulsing.

“Did I make you wait long?” You ask, tilting your head back, a soft sigh leaves your lips as he places tender kisses along the sensitive parts of your neck.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he grabs your hand on his chest, and drags it further down, the heat radiating off his body practically scolding your hand. He brings your hand down his front all the way down to the bulge in his pants.

“You tell me.” He teases, pulling back to look down at you. With one hand still around his neck, keeping him close you take his dick in the other and fondle the man through the thin fabric of his pants.

“Aw,” You coo, “Did I make the poor baby wait too long.” You teased, the motions of your hand unrelenting. A shuddering breath leaves your boyfriend’s lips as his hips buck as much as he tries to hold back.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Logan hooks his hands below the curve of your ass and quickly lifts you off your feet. He swiftly spins you around and tosses you on the bed. “None of that tonight.” He says, grabbing your ankle and yanking you close as he climbs on the bed fitting himself between your thighs.

You let out a loud sigh as his heavy hands clench the clothed flesh of your thighs. His hands trail up to the belt loops of your jeans and he gives them a tug.

“Strip,” He orders. His hand sliding down the front of your legs, hiking your thighs on his hips as he goes to untie the drawstring around his waist. The pants slide down even further, exposing his adonis belt.

You swallow louder than you intended , and he chuckles lowly. You rid your upper half of any thing that could possibly stop the feel of your lover's calloused hands on your body. Logan rips the front of your pants open, tearing the seam and ripping the button off and across to who knows where.

“Oh, babe I really liked those.” You moan out softly, under any normal circumstance you would’ve been upset, but as Logan licks up your stomach as he’s pulling your pants down you figure the pants can come third. You lift your hips and yank the fabric off as Logan finally frees his poor aching cock from the prison that is his pajamas.

He sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, and whether it was from pain or pleasure the look on his face was enough to make you cream right then and there. You began to squirm in anticipation, trying to press your thighs together but Logan puts heavy hands on your knees and pries them further apart.

You let him, face flushed and chest panting.

”That’s it babydoll, show me that pretty pussy, hmm?” He teases you, and your face burns bright with embarrassment. You grab his arm as he pulls you flush against his bare skin. His cock slides against your slick folds, and a whine escapes both your lips.

“Fuck.” He grits out as he gyrates his hips, watching in awe as your juices coat his pulsing dick. Your fingers squeeze tighter around his arm.

“Logan.” You breathe out, your hips rising to get more friction.

“Hold on baby, you gotta give me a minute.” He’s out of breath as his hands roam all over the meat of your legs. He hikes your left ankle over his right shoulder and he pulls away.

The both of you breathless, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch as Logan guides the tip of his cock at your entrance. He pauses, leans back on his haunches and looks down at you.

“What are you waiting for, big guy?” You lean in and grab his dick, giving it a few strokes.

“It’s been two weeks and I am not a minute man.” He huffs out, watching the movements of your hand.

”You never have been.” You whisper, guiding the tip inside. Logan shudders as he leans over your body once again. His arms caging you in as his chest heaves. Your ankle slides off his shoulder, as he slowly sinks his dick further into your tight hole.

“Oh yes,” You hum, feeling absolutely stretched. Reaching out to grab Logan’s face you bring him in for a sloppy kiss.

“That’s it baby, give it to me just like that.” You purred, fingers cradling his head, foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing as Logan pulled back slowly, snapping his hips forward.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moans, and you swallow his words.

Logan's thrusts start slow, deliberate, dragging out each movement as if savoring the feel of you. Every inch of him feels like it’s filling you up completely, and you can’t help the needy whine that escapes your lips. He grunts softly in response, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Missed this too," you whisper between pants, your body rising to meet his rhythm. Each snap of his hips has you keening, your nails digging into his back, urging him for more. Logan’s pace starts to quicken, his control slipping as the tight heat of your body pulls him in deeper.

"Shit... you're so perfect," he groans, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth trails along your neck, lips brushing over your skin, leaving wet kisses as his hands tighten their grip on your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your thighs tremble around him, your body arching in response as your hands move to grip the sheets. You’re close, so close, the coil in your belly tightening with every deep thrust.

"Logan... please, don't stop," you beg, your voice breathless and needy.

Logan’s breath hitches as you tighten around him, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He’s right on the edge, but instead of pulling out, he leans over you, his lips brushing your ear. His hand grips your thigh, keeping you locked in place as he pushes back in, slowly, torturously deep.

You whimper, feeling him stretch you all over again, and he moans in response, the sound almost desperate. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, the head of his cock dragging against that sweet spot that makes you see stars. The rhythm is slow but deliberate, his hips grinding into you with an intensity that has your body arching into him. Each time he pulls back, it’s only to push deeper than before, making you gasp and claw at his back.

"Logan... fuck," you moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you completely. He’s breathing hard against your neck, his body trembling with the effort to stay in control. But the way his cock moves inside you—deliberate, steady, dragging out the pleasure—makes it clear he’s savoring every second.

His need is palpable now, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough. "I’ve missed this... missed you so much," he mumbles, his voice hoarse as he picks up the pace just slightly. The sound of your skin meeting fills the room, the slick heat of your bodies moving in sync, every thrust hitting deeper, making you writhe beneath him.

You feel the tension in him, the way his muscles strain as he fights to hold back. But then his control starts to slip, his pace quickening, each thrust harder and faster, his hips snapping into you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The coil in your belly tightens again, the pleasure building higher and higher, and you know he can feel it too.

"Fuck, you’re so tight," he groans, burying his face in your neck as his hips drive into you harder. His voice cracks with raw need, his movements becoming frantic. He’s so close, teetering on the edge, but instead of letting go, he keeps pushing you both further, refusing to pull out. "I’m not done with you yet," he gasps, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you in place as he thrusts deeper, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

Your body clenches around him, and you cry out, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Logan feels it, groaning as your walls flutter around him, and you think he’s going to come too, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slows just enough to keep himself in control, his hips rocking into you in a rhythm so slow and precise it makes your head spin. He pulls out slightly before pushing back in, bottoming out with every thrust, the sensation keeping you on the edge.

"God, I love you," he mumbles, his voice breaking as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips brush against your cheek, your temple, as he keeps up that slow, torturous pace. "I’m so obsessed with you... I need you, baby, I need this," he groans, his voice thick with emotion, as if the feeling of being inside you is overwhelming him.

You can feel him trembling, hear the soft, needy sounds he makes as he moves inside you, and it sends another wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands find his hair, tugging gently as you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a sloppy, desperate kiss. "I’m here... I’m yours," you whisper against his lips, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Logan’s thrusts slow even further, until he’s barely pulling out, just rocking into you gently. But every time his cock drags against that sweet spot inside, it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, leaving you trembling. It’s softer now, more intimate, but still just as intense. Your body is so sensitive, every touch, every movement feels like too much and not enough all at once.

His moans turn softer, more broken, and you can feel his control slipping as he edges closer to release. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "I can’t stop... you feel so fucking good."

Logan feels you tighten around him with what he thinks is another orgasm, his thrusts becoming purposeful, and he groans deeply, his body shaking as his release crashes into him. His cock throbs inside you, and you feel the warm flood of him filling you up, but just as you expect him to pull out, he surprises you.

“Wait, baby… not yet,” he rasps, his voice rough with need. Before you can respond, his hips push forward again, grinding deep, his cock still hard inside you. The overstimulation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you let out a sob, clutching meekly at him as he starts moving again, slow but firm. The sensation is overwhelming, but Logan’s grip on your hips tightens as if he can’t let go.

You cry, tears forming in your eyes, your body still trembling from your orgasm, but Logan keeps going, his breath ragged and desperate.

“Fuck, I need more,” he mumbles against your skin, his lips brushing over your neck as he starts to thrust again. His movements are a little rough, his need palpable, and you can feel him building up again, his body already close to another release.

He thrusts faster now, deeper, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, and you can’t help the way your body reacts.

“Oh, Logan~” you cry out, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you over and over, the slick sound of your bodies meeting echoing in the room.

He’s panting now, his breath hot against your skin, and you feel him tense up again. His hips slam into you one last time, and he groans deeply, spilling into you for the second time. But even then, he doesn’t stop.

“Oh god… not yet,” he whispers, almost like a plea, his cock twitching inside you as he keeps rocking his hips. His pace slows but doesn’t stop, the overstimulation almost too much to bear, but at the same time, it feels so damn good. His thrusts become shorter, his cock pulling out just enough before pushing back in, keeping him buried deep inside you.

Your body is on fire, sensitive and trembling as Logan chases yet another orgasm. His voice is low, needy, as he presses his forehead to yours, groaning softly.

“I can’t stop… I need to come again… fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbles, almost like he’s talking to himself, completely lost in the sensation of being inside you.

Your legs shake as he thrusts slowly, hitting deep inside you with every roll of his hips. You’re not sure how much more you can take, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and soon, the coil tightens in your belly again. “Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body tensing as another orgasm rips through you, this one so intense it leaves you seeing stars.

Logan moans with you, his hips snapping forward one last time as he comes again, filling you up even more. His body shakes, his breath heavy as he holds himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist tightly like he never wants to let go. You both stay there, trembling and panting, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing.

Even after three orgasms, Logan’s still inside you, his cock softening but not pulling out. He’s so needy, so desperate to stay connected to you. His lips brush against your ear, his voice soft and broken. “I’m obsessed with you,” he whispers, his hips still moving just enough to keep him inside you.

He leans down to lazily kiss you, lips enveloping his. You stroke his hair, running your fingers through the damp strands as you hold him close, your body finally starting to relax. Logan’s breaths begin to even out, his thrusts slowing to a stop, but he stays buried inside, his body pressing down on yours in a protective, possessive way. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tighter as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, completely spent.

“Still with me?” he mutters, his voice low and gruff in your ear, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through you.

“Barely,” you tease, your fingers still idly combing through his hair as you try to catch your breath.

Logan huffs a small laugh, pulling back just enough to look down at you. There’s a softness in his gaze, a mix of exhaustion and something deeper. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not ready to move yet.”

You smile, the weight of his body grounding you. “Not like I’m complaining.”

He dips down to kiss you again, slower this time, a quiet hum escaping his lips as he pulls you closer. His grip tightens, keeping you pressed together, like he’s savoring every last second of this. He grabs the extra duvet from under the pillows and wraps the blanket around your frames.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” he murmurs against your lips, but there’s no urgency in his voice. He’s just as close to passing out as you are.

“I won’t,” you whisper, though your body feels heavy, every muscle finally unwinding.

Eventually, you both roll over, Logan keeping you snug against him, still inside you as he wraps his arms around your waist. The room grows quieter, the sound of your breaths mingling as your heartbeats slow.

“Stay here,” he mumbles, his voice barely a whisper now, almost lost in the haze of sleep. His head rests against your chest, his body relaxing completely.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to his temple, your hand resting on his back. You can feel the last bit of tension leaving his body as he lets out a deep sigh.

Within moments, you both start to drift off, the warmth of his body against yours pulling you deeper into sleep, completely spent but content.

—

a/n: did i make logan too needy?

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?" 

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start." 

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son. 

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart. 

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway. 

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day." 

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath. 

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her." 

"Being a man is about more than what you can do." 

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options." 

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy." 

"And you too." 

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food.  "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass. 

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to." 

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her." 

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?" 

"Ah, Pop, I don-" 

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called." 

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life. 

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat. 

"What's this?" 

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop." 

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?" 

"Pop." 

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?" 

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?" 

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?" 

"How would I know, though? How did you know?" 

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years. 

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…" 

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state. 

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?" 

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know." 

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love. 

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat. 

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality.  She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor. 

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women. 

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive." 

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice. 

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door. 

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life. 

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you." 

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar. 

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest. 

"We kissing in front of the parents now?" 

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect." 

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts. 

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?" 

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone. 

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention. 

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you." 

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house. 

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised." 

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine. 

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine. 

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side. 

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name. 

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice. 

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck. 

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin. 

"Already? It's not that late, is it?" 

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up." 

"I'll speak up. I promise." 

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait. 

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ.  Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie." 

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week. 

"What's this?" 

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use." 

"When's the last time you used it?" 

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?" 

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall." 

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity, 

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm. 

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind. 

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well. 

Desire. 

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality. 

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now. 

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest. 

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next. 

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts. 

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying. 

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience. 

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back. 

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered. 

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth. 

"You trust me?" 

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg. 

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me." 

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center. 

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck. 

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure. 

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl. 

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it." 

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me." 

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear. 

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?" 

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria. 

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?" 

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right." 

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure. 

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking. 

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?" 

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed. 

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move." 

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch. 

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life. 

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste. 

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits. 

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for. 

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds. 

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices. 

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host. 

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home. 

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him. 

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max. 

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable. 

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!" 

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission. 

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere. 

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come. 

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down. 

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams. 

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence. 

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown. 

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder. 

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud. 

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. 

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?" 

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due. 

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy." 

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?" 

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?" 

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up." 

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady. 

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs. 

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey." 

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more." 

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill. 

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering. 

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there." 

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her. 

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build. 

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride 

You check your mail? 

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

[arcanarix]

Because You're a Big Deal - Satoru Gojo X Fem!Sorcerer Reader

Content Warnings: handjobs, body worship, exhibitionism, cockwarming, edging, cunnilingus, satoru might have a slight humliation/degradation kink, satoru is lowkey a creep and yandereish but not really, he also has no concept of personal space

Word Count: 10.1K

Summary: It’s common knowledge that Satoru Gojo is completely devoted to you. Why?—Because he makes it everyone’s, especially your, problem!

AO3

Since he’s been ripped out of his mother’s womb, life has bent to Satoru Gojo’s will. Everything falls into place as if the universe itself acknowledges that he’s destined for greatness. He barely has to lift a finger, and his achievements pile up, much to the irritation of literally everyone around him. It’s not just because he’s able to back up his skill—he makes sure it’s known that he’s the best sorcerer in the modern world, though—it’s also the way he exudes this untouchable self-assuredness which sets him apart from the rest. He’s practically a God walking among mere simpletons.

In a way, you find yourself pitying the guy at times. You can see how that kind of existence could be isolating. Being blessed—or cursed—with so much power from the get-go. He’s high above everyone else, like he’s observing the world from a higher vantage point—like a God in the sky or on another plane of reality. So to someone like you, who scrape by on sheer determination, ambition, and hard-headedness, Gojo’s life feels impossibly distant.

You’re not part of the elite three clans. You’re…just you, really. You’re a fledgling sorcerer who’s stumbled into this world all on accident, thanks to some Grade 2 curse spirits running amok on your college campus. Among the student and faculty body, you’re the only person you know who can see them, the only person who can react. It’s kind of made you an outcast there because you were afraid of stepping out of your dorm. That’s how you ended up here, after meeting Gojo and the others through chance. You’re training at Jujutsu Tech under Yaga and Gojo’s guidance, as a Grade 3 now—not that far along, but still a step above from where you began which was rock bottom. You still don’t compare to your peers at all in terms of experience.

But as much as you are grateful for Satoru Gojo and his small group of students, who have already rapidly become family to you, you can’t say you’re exactly pleased to be in his presence 99 percent of the time.

Why’s that, you wonder?

It’s simple, really.

From the moment he met you, he’s made it painfully clear that you have captured his attention. He’s obsessed, locked on you with such fervor it could decimate entire buildings with the same energy as a Hollow Purple. While it may have started as a shallow infatuation—you can’t even begin to imagine why—you know better than to let your guard down. With men like him, it’s easy to feel like a conquest, a prize to be won. From someone who’s so used to winning, without a doubt, he sees you as a challenge.

His favorite toy. You refuse to give him that satisfaction.

You don’t know how wrong you are about that assumption, though.

Because titles aside, he’s still just some dude who probably thinks more with his dick than with his brain.

You’re not sure why you in particular, either. Maybe others who’re more aware of his reputation might find it flattering, for the following reasons: he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern times. That’s one. He’s rich as fuck. That’s two. He’s also stupidly handsome with those striking blue eyes of his and that lanky figure. That’s three.

You can’t find it in your core to give a flying fuck about it, though. Because beyond the superficial, he’s lacking in a lot of areas.

Everyone around you seems to agree.

Even now, as you sit in the classroom, waiting for him to show up—because of course, he’s late again as usual—you feel the tension building in your gut. You lean back, your chair creaking as a deep sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers idly trace the screen of your phone. Fushiguro’s gaze bores into your skull, with an all-knowing feeling. Is Gojo going to pull some bullshit today like he always does?

Your eyes roll, as you whip around to meet his gaze. As if silently communicating to him. Of course he is. Gojo always pulls something and everyone knows it, but especially Fushiguro. You have learned to expect it just as everyone else does.

The door swings open with a rush of air, and in strides Gojo, with that smug grin plastered across his face. He carries himself with a straight posture, hands stuffed into his pockets, acting like the world revolves around him because obviously it does. To him it does.

“Sorry for the wait! Since there’s not a lot of things we have to go over today before Megumi and the others are sent on yet another mission, I won’t keep you guys that long.”

Even without looking up, the weight of his gaze locks on you. You feel like you’re on a stage and those blinding blue eyes are the spotlight. When you do glance his way, you catch the faintest twitch of his lips. You’re not wearing your uniform today, and that seems to spark something in him. His blinding blue eyes, though hidden beneath his blindfold, must gleam with mischief. He’s definitely scheming.

“Well, most of you,” he finishes, that smirk of his widening.

You suppress a groan, already knowing where this is going and what thoughts might be running amok in that idiot brain of his, which only thinks with his dick in your presence. The outfit you opt to wear is nothing special—just a pair of shorts and a tank top—but for Gojo, it’s like a gift sent from the Heavens. He always twists the simplest actions of yours into a reason to give you a hard time.

As the briefing drones on, your eyes drift upward by mistake, sneaking a peek at him. What a bad move. Of course, he’s already looking at you, that grin still so wide his face is cracking. He raises his hand to his mouth—thrusting his tongue between two spread fingers—and your face flushes deep from embarrassment. Without thinking, your hands fly up to cover your face as you bite back a sigh.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Luckily, no one notices.

True to his word, the briefing is just that—brief. Itadori, Kugisaki, and Fushiguro head off, leaving you behind with Panda, Inumaki, and Maki for a few moments…at leaste, until they, too, make their hasty exit, leaving you alone.

Leaving you alone with that sad fuck of a man.

He slides up to you, peeling his blindfold up with a slender finger as he leans in closer than necessary. His breath fans against your forehead, and you have to resist the urge to step back lest you want to stir up more trouble for yourself, to push him out of your personal bubble. But Gojo doesn’t seem to have any concept of personal space. He never has. Those eyes of his, sharp, and blue like glaciers in the north, flicker across your face, down to the exposed skin of your shoulders and collarbone.

“Where’s your uniform?” he asks, his voice casual, with a playful note beneath it. There’s a layer of something else, though. His slender fingers trail along your arm, ghosting over your skin where the thin fabric of your tank top exposes you.

The guy acts like he can do whatever he wants. That he’s the man.

You aren’t ever going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that because he already knows he’s a big deal. He already knows he’s absolutely all that and he doesn’t need more reminders. You aren’t interested in stroking his ego (or any physical attributes of his body, for that matter). That must get under his skin and you might be a little too proud of yourself for that, mentally giving yourself a pat on the back every time he seems a little disheartened by your lack of reciprocation.

You need to set that record straight with him. He needs to be knocked down a LOT of pegs.  

Fuck him and his Infinity…you’d love to kick him where it hurts because that’s the only thing he thinks with in that idiot brain of his…

You finally swat at his hand, irritation burbling beneath your skin. “Didn’t Ijichi tell you? It’s at the dry cleaners.”

Gojo gives a non-committal hum in response, but his grin never leaves his features as he settles onto your desk, sprawling out like he owns it. His gaze locks on you, studying every part of your body, and your insides are screaming at you to bolt out the door. But it’s only going to cause him to be more annoying.

“You sure you didn’t wear this just for me?” His voice is a low rasp, dropping an octave, a purr in your ear that sends a shiver dancing down your spine. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb grazing your supple skin.

You smack his hand away again, maintaining a blank expression.

“Not interested,” you deadpan, rising to your feet. “Now, am I dismissed?”

Gojo’s expression falters for a fraction of a second before that smugness of his bounces back, slipping the blindfold back over his eyes.

“Sure,” he replies, but not before his fingers tuck under your chin, tilting your head in an angle ever so slowly.

You swallow on a lump of nothing—

Oh.

--that bulge in his pants, straining against the fabric of his uniform, growing more and more prominent by the passing second. You swallow hard again, your heart dropping tor your stomach.

“Now you know,” he finishes in a low murmur, sliding off your desk with his infuriating smirk still on his fucking face.

You scowl so deep your forehead wrinkles, stepping back away from him. Before you make it further, he grabs your elbow, pulling you close—too close. Flush against his warm body, where your thigh brushes against his hardness. You hate the way it makes you feel.

You hate that you don’t hate it.

“You’re too beautiful for your own good, you know that?” His voice is low, soft, reverent, but the edge of teasing remains.

“I could have you written up for sexual harassment,” you mutter under your breath.

His laugh is quick, sharp, echoing through the walls of the empty classroom.

“Hoho, I’m so scared,” he retaliates in a mocking tone as he allows you to break free from his grasp. “The worst Yaga will give me is a little reprimanding and a swat on the wrist, which won’t change much in the grand scheme of things.”

Utahime is right, you idly muse. He’s a fucking man child.

Why does he find such joy in being a troll? You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. That maybe he has some depth beneath the stupidity he embodies. Is it to hide trauma or something? Can’t he, for once, be a little more serious? Address you like a person because that’s all you want from people?

Do you even care to pick his idiot brain and find out?

“Because you’re the untouchable one in this universe,” you remark with a defeated sigh. Maybe consider transferring to Kyoto? But then he might find another way to harass you…

“Exactly,” he retorts, as you whip around to fully face him. He towers over you; he towers over nearly everyone. But you don’t often take note of how intimidating that is in combination with his reputation. You wonder if he truly is blessed in every aspect of his life (perhaps his only vice, that you can name thus far anyway, is his lack of interpersonal intelligence).

“I’ll be seeing you, Sensei,” you mumble through gritted teeth as you gather your things and amble out the door. His wolf-whistle follows you out, and you resist the urge to turn around and deck him on the spot. Not that you can be able to with his goddamn Infinity.

Maybe you should still write him up for harassment.

But then, upon further reflection, you sincerely doubt it’s going to make a difference. He even says so himself. Nothing changes his mind.

The cool autumn air rushes through your hair as you and the other students stroll down the busy streets, laughing and chatting it up. You find comfort in this routine—the way you can shed the weight of becoming a sorcerer, even if only for a few hours.

To cap off the end of a grueling week, the students often orchestrate a fun night out in the town. You and the other students engage in some semblance of normalcy outside of jujutsu society. You actually get to have fun—and not in the presence of any of your superiors, which helps you take the edge off, for sure.

Itadori and the others—well in particular he, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki—they make you feel like one of them and you haven’t even been with them for that long. Each and every one of them, they’re unique and talented and genuine people. You are willing to admit even Gojo is, in his own right. You just won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, on some levels, you do respect him for certain things.

You probably won’t be alive today if not for these guys.

Itadori grins, his arms stretched behind his head as he glances at the group.

“Is anyone up for a karaoke night?” Itadori inquires, eyes twinkling.

“I’m down, but maybe after I’ve had a few drinks,” you tease with a light giggle. “I’m no Mariah Carey or Ariana Grande.”

“None of us are,” Fushiguro scoffs, shaking his head. “Except for Gojo. Naturally.”

You resist rolling your eyes. Even when he’s not here, Gojo finds a way to worm into the conversation and in your fucking bubble.

“Of course he is,” Kugisaki quips with a smirk playing on her lips. “Guy’s got no shortcomings.”

Fushiguro is quick to challenge that statement.

“Actually—!” Fushiguro starts, only for Kugisaki to cut him off.

“—What, Fushiguro? Apart from his lack of personality, what else?” Kugisaki asks, curious.

That clamps his mouth shut, lips pressed in a deep frown. He falls silent as you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Can we actually not talk about Sensei?” you ask, your own frown stressing your features. “I want one night where I don’t have to think about him and his stupid face.”

Fushiguro glances at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah, of course,” Fushiguro states, “Is he still giving you trouble?”

“When does he not give any of us trouble?” Kugisaki chimes in with a sigh. “Then again, he’s been a bit pushier with you lately. We can bring it up to Yaga, you know.”

Your shoulders tense for a moment, before you shake your head.

“He hasn’t done anything,” you realize how meek you sound and try to find that strength in your voice again. “Well, nothing Yaga would take seriously. Not like Gojo would take anything seriously, either.”

“Understatement of the modern age,” Fushiguro wisecracks in a low murmur.

“Come on, Sensei’s not that bad,” Itadori interjects,  always the sort of person to give people the benefit of the doubt. Where applicable, of course. Which for someone like Itadori, it’s 99 percent of the time—especially when it comes to people he admires like Gojo.

Never mind how overt and rambunctious Gojo can be, he’s still a good person. Or at least, he fights for the right things. You can concede to that. But still…

“Sure, he’s kind of…persistent, though. I don’t know him all that well still so maybe Fushiguro will have a better handling on that.”

“He’s as idiotic as any other man comes,” Fushiguro concedes with a grunt. “If I have to punch him out, I’ll punch him out. That is, if he’s gutsy enough to shut off his Infinity to take a little disciplinary action like a man.”

“We’re still talking about him,” you point out.

“Sorry,” they all apologize in unison.

The conversation finally drifts away from Gojo, and you find yourself easing up a bit. The tension melting off of your body. It’s nice to be in the presence of your friends.

“So,” you drag out the word to catch their attention again, hoping to lift the mood. “Karaoke?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Itadori jabs two thumbs up in the air.

The lights of the karaoke bar you all frequent blinks ahead. You’re excited for a few hours of escapism.

Of course, life has other plans as it seems the faculty of Jujutsu Tech orchestrate their own karaoke night. Since you’re together in the same bar, you decide to rent a room for all of you to sing your lungs out with unlimited drinks.

The karaoke room is dark save for a few string lights casting soft glows across the plush seats, low tables, and around the ceilings. The music blares from the speakers, the laughter of your friends mixing with the thumping, reverberating bass as you amble over to the couch. While Gojo and your mentors are here, you still find yourself unwinding and enjoying your time with your friends.

But of course, the universe has decided you can’t have nice things for very long.

On your way to the couch, you trip over something—a bag, a dropped can of beer, a foot, who fucking knows—and before you can catch yourself, you fall right into someone’s lap.

Not just anyone’s.

The odds, as always, are in Gojo’s favor. The planets always align for this fuck.

His arms secure around your waist instantly, securing you in place with an unyielding, vice grip.

“Well, well, well, happy birthday to me,” he murmurs, his breath fanning the nape of your neck. You shift, attempting to break free, but he yanks you back down, pressing your ass into his lap. That unmistakable hardness beneath you makes your heart jump to your throat.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice demanding, as he presses the growing tent in his pants between your ass cheeks.

You grind your teeth, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare at him. His grin is as infuriating as ever—that shit-eating smirk that makes you want to tear him a few new assholes.

“I’m about to go back up and sing,” you hiss, squirming in his lap which only seems to encourage him, a low whimper escaping his lips that only you can hear. It makes your hairs stand on end and your blood burble. He tightens his iron grip, grinding his hips against yours.

“Stay a little longer,” he coos, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. He bites back another little whimper as he rolls his hips again, and there’s a heat pooling in your legs that’s impossible to ignore. Luckily, everyone’s too distracted with Shoko’s and Utahime’s drunken rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit, and no one’s paying attention to you or to Gojo.

For once, the universe isn’t humiliating you.

“Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. “I wonder how amazing you’d feel bouncing on my wood.”

“Gojo!” you whisper in a harsh tone, finally slipping free from his lap. You’re tempted to smack him, and you almost do, but you recognize the challenge in his gaze.

Him and his fucking Infinity.

“Fuck you,” you sneer, turning on your heel and returning to the others, but you still hear his response:

“Soon,” he calls back with a lazy wave.

You know you don’t get the luxury of avoiding Gojo.

You come to a realization that hits you like a Falcon punch to your gut: you’re not sure if you want Gojo to ignore you. It’s not because you’ve come to enjoy the attention. Far from it. He’s still crass; he’s still pushy; he’s still overt and obnoxious. It’s still infuriating and he’s still very punchable about this shit.

But today…today, you just aren’t into entertaining him. Today, you’re feeling really off your game in more ways than one, and he wants to whack the hornet’s nest out of sheer habit.

He must sense your shift in mood since that karaoke night. One second, you’re telling him to piss off, leave you alone, and the next, his large hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you toward him. His body is pressed to yours, and you can feel that hardness against our thigh.

You’re praising the gods above that there isn’t anyone around to witness this because this is probably you at your most unbecoming self.

“Sensei,” you grind out, your voice low with frustration. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Come on, no need to be so formal here. It’s us, baby girl. Say my name. Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you sneer, attempting to pull away, but his grip strengthens like titanium around your wrist. Those blue eyes of his—no, they look more like predatory slits now—bore into you with an intensity that you only saw once before back in Shibuya. When something inside of him fractures, splitting like glass under the high stakes. The memory of it, jagged and sharp, makes your heartbeat skyrocket.

You aren’t interested in exploring what lurks behind that gaze; you don’t wish to challenge it. But he doesn’t give you the luxury of turning away. His hand remains secured around your wrist, jerking you off balance as you’re spun in a fluid motion, pressing your back flush against the wall, his body caging over yours. You collide with the cool surface with a light thud, but you’re not all that disoriented. Just a little taken aback. The scorching heat of his body crowds into yours. His knee is still wedging between your legs, the pressure firm but demanding as it rubs into your clothed cunt.

“When are you going to stop punishing me?” he murmurs, his voice a near-growl that rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your skin. The sound is barely audible, yet it hits you like a tidal wave. Your breath hitches, and your eyes narrow into slits out of defiance.

“I’m not—!” The retort dies in your throat as his lips graze against your ear, his breath sending a rush of heat from your neck shooting all the way down to your groin. He shifts his knee, pushing it harder against the sensitive core between your thighs, and the friction draws a gasp from your lips before you can act to suppress it.

“Don’t feed me that bullshit,” he growls, his teeth taking in your bottom lip and grinding it between them. He chews hard on it, just enough to make you flinch, before his tongue swipes across the sore spot, soothing the light sting. More heat rushes to your cheeks, spreading in waves throughout your body as his hands roam your body, still skimming the modest areas, but it’s enough to make you squirm and fidget. It makes your breath come out in short, ragged, uneven breaths.

His grip slides dangerously lower, tracing the slight dip of your waist with his fingers that linger just a little too long for your comfort.

“Stop dancing around how you feel about me.”

“Gojo…” you whimper, though your voice pitifully muffled against his mouth. Your hands push against his chest, but to no avail, you’re weaker than him (everyone is weaker than him, but you especially so and for other reasons not related to physical prowess); your mind is torn between pushing him and away and… wanting to understand what the hell this is. What the hell he’s doing with you. What he wants to do with you.

“Satoru.” He corrects, his voice thick and guttural from arousal. The way he demands it, it’s primal, feral, a low rumble like distant thunder that leaves you no room to refuse him. “Say it.”

“Satoru,” you stammer, the syllables tumbling from your lips unbidden as he nips at your lips again, hard enough to draw yet another breathy gasp. You reluctantly tilt your head back, exposing the line of your neck to his relentless pursuit.  “Stop.”

His eyes continue to bore into yours, drilling deep like a jack hammer through your skull. Those eyes of his, they’re so bright, so blinding, almost as if they can strip you bare with just a glance because he can bend everything to his will like he always does. Even with his Infinity shut off, they’re so intense. He’s suffocating. Inescapable.

Unforgettable.  

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, his voice softening to a lower murmur as he dips his head lower, his nose brushing along the sensitive skin of your neck. His lips trail after, feathery light over your skin, barely there, and he inhales sharply when he reaches your pulse point thundering just beneath your collarbone.

“I know you don’t mean that.”

Your cherry perfume lingers in the air between you as he continues. His fingers graze at the dips of your waist. Suddenly everything feels too constricting, all consuming.

“Please,” he mutters, his voice cracking. He sounds almost…pained, almost vulnerable in a way that you have never seen from him before. He’s always so sure of himself. So haughty. For another second, there’s something fragile flickering in his gaze.

“Stop torturing me.”

It happens before you can stop it—you can’t help the slight twitch of your eye. Torturing him? Is he serious? You almost want to laugh off the sheer absurdity of that accusation. But the thought soon dies when he leans in again, his lips wet, sloppy kisses along your jawline, taking his time like he’s savoring this moment. Like he’s not sure he’ll ever have a chance again. He might be wrong; he might be right.

You don’t even know yourself.

He stops at the tip of your chin, his voice a low crackle like the strike of lightning.

“You’re torturing me by not acting,” he grunts out that explanation, his words now rough and strained. There’s a rawness in his voice—a kind of sincerity that you’re shocked he even has in him. His hand slides even lower, now grazing your hips, before grasping your wrist and guiding it down to rest against his pelvis. There’s the heat of his arousal, the strain of it sticking through the thin fabric of his slacks, and you freeze.

“You see what you do to me. You see how hard you make me,” he whispers, guiding your hand along the rigid length of him through his slacks. His eyes remain locked on yours, bright, blindingly hungry, studying your reactions. As always, he’s relentless in his pursuit of you, determined to get what he wants. He’s not used to things not falling in his lap.

He moans low, guttural, still pained, like…like this is a need for him.

The world between you narrows, sharpens like a camera filter, focusing in on the two of you. Just the two of you in the empty classroom. His ragged breaths fill your senses, the feel of his smooth hardness beneath your soft moisturized palm. You feel the erratic pounding of your own pulse in your eardrums. He moans again, low, needy, a pained, pitiful sound. It’s so thick and suffocating, and you honestly wonder how you got to this point. Why you’re letting him do this.

It’s a lot, and yet you can’t find yourself ripping away from his gaze. His gaze never leaves yours, even as his hips buck slightly into your hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Those eyes, full of that unsettling lust and vulnerability, continue to glow bright and shiny. It’s too much, way too much, too bright, too overstimulating. You want to break the connection, yet you can’t. You’re caught in his web. You’re trapped.

“Keep rubbing me like that,” he rasps, his voice in broken gasps, as he presses his body needily into yours. His hands find your waist and grips tight, fingertips digging into your skin, securing you in place as if he can’t bear to let you leave as he continues to grind helplessly against your hand. “Fuck… your hand’s so soft… feels so good…”

He keeps rolling against your body, making your breath catch. It’s kind of sexy. He’s unguarded in a way you’ve never seen him in other settings, even when he’s goofing off with other colleagues or the other students. Every broken whimper that leaves his yappy lips just adds to the appeal all of a sudden, because you can’t believe you’re able to make him succumb to you like this. You’re making his control slip with each passing nanosecond. You’re the center of this world, and you don’t find yourself hating that.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice pitching higher now, desperate as he ruts against your paml with a lot more urgency, a lot more desperation. His cock twitches through the thin fabric of his slacks, the friction too much, too good to pass up. His body’s shaking against yours, and it’s because of you. His breath hitches with every languid roll of his hips.

“I need you,” he quavers, his voice catching in his throat as he trails heated kisses along your collarbone. His lips feel soft, but his words are laden with a kind of desperation you’ve never thought you’d see in your life. “Can’t you feel how badly I fucking need you?”

You can. You can feel every ounce of his need, pressing against you. Your bodies are so close there’s nothing but headiness and heat. That need of his…it makes you a bit wary. You don’t trust Gojo for a myriad of reasons.

Not like this, at least.

Yet, while your mind is screaming at you to rip away, to cease this nonsense, you find yourself complying. Your hand remains where it is, your fingers grazing his bulge on their own accord matching the rhythm of each roll of his hips. He’s still trembling, falling apart at your touch. Something about that…something about that is so fucking hot, and you hate that you don’t’ hate this.

“Almost there?” you murmur, your eyes fluttering as your thumb brushes lightly over the tip of his cock poking through. It’s an instinctive motion, and his reaction is immediate, drawing out a choked gasp, his head dipping onto your shoulder as his full body shudders.

“Fuck…yes,” he moans, his voice still rough and strained from need and arousal, rutting harder into your hand. “More. Fuck… please, more…”

Your breath catches in your throat as you jerk him faster, each stroke sending him over a dangerous edge. That grip on your hips constricts, almost bruising your skin as he chases his release. His moans falling from his lips are so soft, breathy, needy…it’s so juicy.

“Baby,” he whimpers, his voice broken as he thrusts one final time into your hand. His cock twitches again, hard, swollen, before he creams into his slacks with a strangled, pitiful whine. He pants in short, ragged gasps as he nuzzles his forehead into your shoulder.

The world halts between you. The only thing filling the room is the sound of his ragged breaths. His body slumps against yours for a few more moments, before he reluctantly pulls away. His gaze never leaves yours, dazed, delirious…drunk off of you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping it in a playful manner. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before fully stepping back.

You remain there, pressed up against the wall, dumbfounded, your mind reeling from everything that’s just transpired. You want to feel disgusted, repulsed even. Yet…you’re not.

You feel almost…

Your cheeks burn at the mere notion. There’s no way. Guess Hell has finally frozen over.

Gojo says nothing more, sparing you the embarrassment as he retreats, his hands smoothing over his slacks, in an attempt to conceal any remnants of his little time to rejoice. His perfect posture bounces back far too quickly from this. It’s infuriating how he can act like nothing happened and you’re still taken aback. He bends down, retrieving a small disinfecting cloth from his desk drawer, then wipes your hand in a soft, reverent motion.

His eyes flicker to yours as he does, lingering with a softer expression.

“You…” Your voice comes out pathetic, wimpy. You find some semblance of strength over your voice and your body. Everything that’s happened finally sinks in, and your mind is swirling.

His natural scent still lingers, he’s so close. Crisp, fresh.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence like he always does, a spark of amusement hidden just beneath that calm tone of his. His lips twitch into that infuriating, ever smug grin of his. “Didn’t hate it?”

You open your mouth to snap back, to scream and yell at him, but the words catch in your throat. You can’t even hate him. You can’t even find the anger that should be threatening to burst through that tightly sealed lid, that you keep bottled up. There’s just confusion, frustration, uncertainty…

You rip your hand from his and twist on your heel, ambling toward the door as your body is operating on autopilot.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, his voice cuts through the thick silence.

“Come on, it was good, right?”

You freeze in your tracks, your back still turned to him. His gaze burns into your skin. You don’t respond. You don’t know how to respond. You can’t. You twist the doorknob, the door emitting a creak as it opened, stepping out into the hallway—away from his suffocating, overstimulating presence.

Suddenly you feel lighter, cooler.

But as you stride down the empty halls, your mind replays the events in an endless loop—that nagging sensation gnawing at your soul.

Are you coming around? You don’t know. You know you didn’t hate it; that’s as much as you’re willing to admit. Your heart thunders, echoes of his parting words lingering.

You don’t notice him peeping out through the door slightly ajar and watching you walk away.

You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

Not through the briefing, where the low chattering of conversation barely registers over the pounding heartbeat in your ears. Sure as hell not through the training, where your hands fumble through the motions, distracted. Fushiguro and Kugisaki get a chance to tumble you to the ground without so much as a shred of remorse.

It’s like you can’t break away. Every time his eyes land on you, you can feel them burning straight through our soul, making your stomach twist and churn.

When you’re back in the classroom, it feels stifling. The chalkboard behind Gojo is worn from everything Gojo writes on it. You sit at your desk, twiddling a pencil between your fingers; your mind relaying the events over and over, no matter how much you want to shove them down, push them away. It’s almost impossible to focus on anything else. You entertain the glimpses of his expressions, how he unravels at your touch…they all keep floating to the surface of your brain and it’s both a nightmare and a dream. You’re not sure which.

He's always been open about his feelings. It’s never been a secret. He makes it everyone’s problem, for fuck’s sake. But now, seeing it firsthand, how he reacts to the slightest brush of your fingers…it’s different now. You don’t know how to feel about it.

“Yoooo,” Itadori’s voice snaps you back to the present, his hand waving in front of your face. You blink a few times, jerking back into reality as his curious eyes meet yours. “We’ve been trying to get your attention. Everything okay?

You force a smile, but it feels strained and awkward on your lips. It’s like a mask that doesn’t fit you.

“Yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, strained to your own ears. “Just a lot on my mind.”

You haven’t noticed Gojo excused himself at some point—how long has it been since he left the room? Not like it matters that much to you. Because even when he isn’t present, his energy clings to the air, inescapable, suffocating. Unforgettable.

Fushiguro leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses your reactions.

“Is it Gojo?” he asks, his voice a low, irritated grumble.

You hesitate, your fingers clenching around the pencil.

“…No,” you manage to say, the words slipping through your teeth with a bit of difficulty. “Other stuff.”

Itadori, ever the peppy optimist, flashes you a heartwarming grin. His sincerity can get so annoying sometimes, but endearing all at once.

“Enlighten us? Maybe we can help!” he suggests.

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact. You hate lying to him. “Nah, too dark.”

Itadori is unconvinced, his beady eyes focused on you. “You sure?”

“I’m good,” you insist, hoping your forced smile will suffice. “I swear.”

“She gets harassed enough by Gojo,” Fushiguro interjects with a snarl, swatting at Itadori’s head to knock some sense into him. “Knock it of, Yuuji.”

Before the conversation drifts to another direction, a voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Yeah, Yuuji Itadori,” Gojo’s voice drawls in a playful way from behind you. You don’t have to see him to know his smirk is ever present on that stupid face of his. “Annoying her to death is strictly my territory.”

You stiffen in place, your muscles tensing as Gojo’s presence draws nearer. You don’t want to turn around; you can’t. His stare presses into your back, seeping through your skin like a stain.

“Alright guys, I think we covered everything we needed to today. Go enjoy the rest of your day, yeah?” he instructs after clapping twice, officially dismissing the students.

You don’t hesitate to scurry past him, the scrape of your chair echoing in the classroom as you hop to your feet. You don’t look back. As soon as the words of dismissal leave his lips, you’re up from your desk, making a beeline for the exit. You think you make it, your feet dragging you toward the sweet embrace of freedom—

--His hand is on your shoulder before you take another step. His grip is firm, not tight, but secure enough to make chills surge through your body. Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like you’re stuck in place—pinned by the overpowering force of his presence.

“Hey,” he drawls, a soft, teasing purr that causes your skin to tingle. His lips graze against the shell of your ear as he chuckles. Your cheeks flush deep from heat. You curse your body for giving you so much Hell around him.

“Sensei,” you state, voice sharper than intended, yet it still lacks the strength you wish it normally has. “I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of my day, just as you instructed.”

He hums in response, breathing down your sensitive skin.

“Satoru,” he bites back in a growl, his lips still brushing the curve of your ear before nipping at it, a playful gesture that makes you jump in place. He soothes the sting with a few passes of his tongue, and you shiver.

“Say it,” he goes on again. “Say my name.”

You grit your teeth, annoyance laden in your tone.

“Satoru,” you mutter, the irritation in your tone clear. “What do you want?”

He chuckles again, but this time there’s a bit of an edge to it—that same, primal edge.

“You know,” he quips, and before you retaliate, his hand is guiding yours to his lap, and your breath hitches as you feel his unmistakable hardness pressing against his slacks again. He slips his cock out from his confines this time, and in an instant, he wraps your hand around his shaft. Your fingers trace the heat of his length. This time, he doesn’t plan on holding back. The realization of what’s happening dawns on you, and your mind is screaming bloody murder at you to knee him there and see how he likes it, but you don’t. You don’t know why you don’t.

You’re not surprised that he’s not lacking in this department either. So he’s not overcompensating.

“Like what you see?” he teases in a low, silken tone, his free hand sliding up to our neck, fingers wrapping gently around your throat and applying just enough pressure that sends a thrilling jolt through your veins.

“Someone might…see,” you manage through a choked gasp. Gojo glances over his shoulder, ensuring the door is locked, leaving no room for interruption because he won’t allow it.

His head dips lower, his soft lips pressing against the curve of your neck, planting soft kisses along the exposed skin as your hand strokes him, jerking him. His breathing quickly grows ragged, his shaggy white hair brushing against your cheek as his hips roll into your hand.

He’s letting go around you. You can’t believe you’re the one doing this to him. Satoru Gojo is the pinnacle of the jujutsu society, seeming so untouchable, just out of reach. The one who’s been blessed in any and every aspect of his universe. But here, his control is slipping at just your touch.

It’s…not just kind of sexy. It’s really fucking sexy. You will never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

He clutches your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin and you bite back a whine.

“Fuck, baby, please, stop torturing me,” his voice is a soft, broken cry, and you chew on your bottom lip.

Your eyes flutter a bit, a little dazed and you’re untouched. Entirely focusing on his release. You’re not sure why you’re letting this happen. Probably because there’s not much you can do. If he’s so tormented by the prospect of your existence, then shouldn’t you feel an obligation to grant him some kind of respite?

Why do you even feel that way? You shouldn’t even care, and yet…here you are.

You assess his debauched expression with a soft stare. His face is flushed, his lips parted as he pants for breath, purring your name over and over again. His eyes—half-mast, glassy—flicker open, and you lock gazes. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

“Say my name,” he rasps out, pleading.

“Satoru,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Are you…close?” you murmur, your thumb ghosting over his tip leaking with pre. He chokes on a gasp at that, and you don’t know why you feel so powerful in that moment. Probably because you can make the strongest sorcerer of the modern age like this and you’re barely doing anything much. You don’t think so, anyway.

Your breath hitches. Any smart retorts you may have, have died on your tongue long ago because it’s no longer applicable. You’re right into his hands; he’s putty in yours. Quite literally.

He tightens his grip on your waist and hunches further over as a distinct confirmation. He’s chasing the friction with your hand, his hips bucking in tandem with your strokes.

“More,” his voice is now an uncontrolled falsetto, and you jerk his cock in time with hie hips. “Fuck. More…”

And here you are, the one in control, stroking him faster, harder, watching him fall apart to your touch. You remember telling yourself you wouldn’t stroke his ego or any physical part of his body, but you’re doing exactly that now.

You’re such a fucking liar. He mewls your name, catching your attention.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, jerking into your hand faster until shots of seed leaks from his tip, hot and sticky and gooey. His head drops to your shoulder as he catches hie breath.

He pulls away a bit, his half-lidded gaze meeting yours. He looks all dazed, delirious…satisfied. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss full of heat and passion, his tongue twirling around yours. When he breaks the kiss, a thin line of spit connects your tongues before he cuts it with a twirl of his own wet muscle, his eyes still never leaving yours.

You’re trapped in a state of shock, your mind spinning. You don’t know how to feel—should you be angry? Repulsed? Relieved? You don’t know. All you know is that he’s getting his way, and it’s pissing you off.

Gojo steps back from your personal bubble, moving toward his desk with his casual nonchalance, leaving you reeling. He once again retrieves a disinfectant cloth, wiping himself clean before tossing that and retrieving a fresh one, cleaning your hand and face as if nothing out of the ordinary just transpired.

You’re frozen, your mind grappling with the current reality as he finishes cleaning you up. He flashes a little smile.

Your lips curl into a soft pout, that frustration still burbling beneath your skin.  

“What?” you demand, voice lighter than you intended—softer, more out of curiosity. He rests his hand—large, calloused, warm—on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your soft, plump lips. The tenderness of the gesture feels a bit foreign to you.

“Mine,” he growls low and gravelly. His eyes, usually filled with mischief and scheming a way to annoy or embarrass you, are shining with pure affection instead. You feel like he’s seeing right through you, and with those legendary Six Eyes of his, you might not be far off. He can read everything about everyone and anything. He’s always constantly processing everything with his Six Eyes and Limitless technique. His thumb presses into your ilps, gentle at first, before grazing the tips of your teeth.

“Gojo…?” His name spills from your lips, tentative, as his thumb pushes further, brushing your tongue now, as your senses are now hit with a tang of salty skin.

“Satoru,” he corrects in a sharp tone, his frown deepening, dissatisfaction etching across his stupidly handsome features. His eyebrows furrow, that little crease forming in frustration. Your attempts to pull away irritate him—it’s clear in his actions. “I don’t answer to Gojo or Sensei with you anymore.”

His words are definitive, absolute. He carries authority like he always does.

And it’s so fucking maddening.

“Satoru,” you try again, your voice faltering as his thumb presses deeper onto your wet muscle, warm and insistent against it. Your heart skips a beat; your heartrate speeding up as heat flushes across your skin. “What… what are you doing?”

He grins that easy, carefree smile you’ve seen thousands of times. Now it feels different. Dangerous, as his sparkly blue eyes twinkling with trickster energy. He might rival Loki himself.

“Assessing how pretty my girlfriend’s pussy is,” he answers easily, waiting for your reaction. “Especially when you’re riding my face the way you will my cock.”

His crassness, though usually expected, still catches you off-guard, and more heat rushes to your cheeks. Your breath is lodged in your throat, embarrassing consuming the very core of your being like a wildfire.

“Did… did you just call me your girlfriend?” your voice wavers, caught between disbelief and something else…something that feels a little bit like…flattery?

Oh, Hell has certainly frozen over.

“And stop being so lewd!” you add in an icy tone.

He responds with a rich and lazy chuckle, far too pleased with himself.

“Don’t act so shocked, gorgeous; don’t dance around what’s been happening since you got here,” he coos. His thumb slides down, grazing your bottom lip. “Mine.”

You step back slightly, gripping his wrist and brushing him off; impressing yourself that you keep your touch firm when you’re trembling on the inside.

“Satoru,” you start again, trying to regain some semblance of control—some clarity amid all of this chaos.

“Yes, honey?” he addresses you in a low purr, teasing and commanding, making hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He’s looking at you like he’s already won.

This fucking guy needs to be put in his fucking place.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to sigh. That frustration is still simmering beneath you; your foot tapping against the polished wooden floor, the sound sharp in the quiet classroom.

“What the hell is this?” you demand, narrowing your eyes into slits at him.

He tilts his head at you, folding his arms over his chest in that casual way of his. The movement causes his shirt to pull tight across his chest, emphasizing his taut lines.

“Isn’t it obvious? Or is your stupid showing?” he quips, but his voice is not in jest; it’s in a more serious manner. You’re impressed he can even take this seriously. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. It’s not rocket science, or some complex cursed technique, you know.”

You part your lips to protest, but he cuts you off, eyes flickering with something dark.

“Yeah, but—!”

“—but nothing,” he interjects, voice firm. “Mine.”

Your frustration finally boils over.

“No,” you growl, taking a few steps forward, forcing him to really look at you eye to eye. “You answer me. You owe me that much right now, Satoru.” You hate that your voice is trembling now, emotions raw and unfiltered because you have nothing to lose here.

He drags out a defeated sigh, the tension in his body easing as he relaxes his body. His eyes remain locked on yours.

“Fine.”

“Tell me the truth,” you demand, your voice low yet firm—a crackle of lightning in a raging storm. “What is this to you?”

He studies your face. When he speaks up, his voice carries a softer tone. More genuine.

“It’s simple,” he answers, carefully selecting his words. “You give me all of you. I give you all of me.”

His fingers trail down your arm, stopping at your elbow.

“Is it really so hard to understand how bad I got it for you? I’m nuts about you,” he goes on, his expression is almost…vulnerable. Open. He’s usually so guarded in spite of his silliness. “This isn’t a game to me.”

He’s giving you a chance to grapple with what he just admits to you. He’s giving a piece of himself he hasn’t given to anyone else since…well, you don’t know. You haven’t known him for as long as the others.

You chew on your bottom lip, warring with the questions in your mind.

“So…” you hesitate, voice barely audible. “Why me?”

He runs his hand through his shaggy hair, his eyes flickering with something that feels out of place. Raw. Honest. Something you’re so unused to seeing in Satoru.

“I mean, don’t you get it?” he sighs, almost to himself.

“Don’t you know how rare it is for someone to get my attention?”

You take a moment to process his words. You know they carry more weight than a casual, generic compliment. So far from sweet nothings. It’s a crack in all those layers he set up for himself. You’re peeling away at some of them.

“That’s not a direct answer,” you counter in a firmer tone, as a frown stresses your features. You won’t let him get away with just that.

His shoulders sag a bit in defeat.

“Then why don’t I just show you?” he suggests, his voice smooth, the challenge in his tone unmistakable. The atmosphere shifts like gears.

Before you can even process what he’s told you, Satoru hoists you by your bottom in a fluid, effortless motion, like you weigh a can of grapes to him (and you may as well have). Your back hits the hard surface of his desk with a thud.

His hands, gentle, but rough, trail down your thighs, his touch electric and the air between you growing thick and staticky, making shivers crawl down your spine. He meets your gaze, his electric blue eys locked onto yours. It’s too much to bear. Too much!

“May I?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly like earlier. His fingers hover just below the hem of your clothes. He’s so close yet so far away and you can’t believe you want this. You can’t believe you’re letting this play out. Maybe you like him more than you care to admit to yourself.

While he poses the question, his eyes tell you he already knows your answer.

Words dying on your tongue, tension in your body winding tight like a wind-up toy…

You bite your lip. With a barely perceptible nod, you grant him the permission.

In that same fluidity and effortlessness, he slips off your pants along with your panties, the fabric falling unceremoniously to the ground, leaving you fully exposed to him. The cool air nips at your skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body as he spreads your legs wide across his desk. You’re vulnerable, laid bare before him, but the way he looks at you…you feel like you’re on top of the world.

Satoru’s gaze flits downward, and his liips part slightly as he takes in the gorgeous, raw sight of you, glistening in your natural arousal already. He licks his lips absently, a soft, animalistic sound escaping from deep in his throat.

“And you claimed you weren’t into it,” he purrs, his breath fanning against your sensitive flesh. The words are so teasing, so trolling, like he always is, but the effect he’s going for is anything but playful for you. Your body jerks involuntarily.

“Mean,” you pout, your lips forming that irresistible curve you know now that he can’t resist.

But you doubt Satoru’s going to give you any mercy here.

He shushes you, his voice a soft command as he leans in closer, his nose barely grazing your sensitive sex. Slowly, he uses both his hands to peel apart your folds, the movement achingly intimate. His eyes glisten with something almost feral as he whistles softly at the sight he’s been blessed to behold. Then, carefully, he dips a finger between your folds, gliding it along the slickness building there. His touch is feather-light, teasing, reverent, causing more heat to pool low in your belly and your groin.

“Look at that,” he teases, dragging the pad of his finger through your wetness, making you squirm under his touch. “All soaked for me. God, that’s the highest compliment in the world, baby. You have no idea.”

Your face burns from embarrassment, the flush spreading down your neck like you’ve caught a fever.

“Shut up,” you whimper as you feel his breath ghosts over your core again; the anticipation is worse. It’s so much worse. He eyes it for a few moments too long before finally sinking his teeth into the delightful meal that’s you.

The moment his tongue hits your sensitive flesh, a jolt of electricity shoots through your entire body. He starts from your entrance, rolling his tongue slowly up through your goopy folds, tracing a deliberate pattern toward your clit. The wetness, the gooeyness, everything leaves you breathless. You jolt in place, your back arching off the desk, but Satoru’s strong hands are quick to keep you steady. But his grip is tender yet firm.

His hands find yours, fingers intertwining with a kind of gentleness that is quite the juxtaposition to the party going on between your thighs. His thumbs brush over your knuckles in a soothing gesture, grounding you as his tongue pokes and prods at your sensitive flesh, lapping at your slick, gooey folds. He makes low groans, soft hums, little whimpers like he’s honored to finally do this.

It's so mean. It’s too much.

“Relax for me, gorgeous,” he purrs between fervent licks, his voice muffled slightly by the way he’s devouring you whole. The pressure coils in your stomach as his tongue continues to lap at your building slick, sloppy, wet, passionate. You can barely think straight now. The only thing swimming in your mind is Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. But you’ll never let him know that.

“Aw, fuck yeah,” he breaths, pulling back for a moment to speak and get an eyeful of your aroused, debauched state. “You have any idea how long I’ve been jerking off to the thought of this pussy?”

“Satoru!” you shriek, more out of embarrassment than indignation. Okay, maybe a little indignation. Each pass of his tongue makes every nerve ending in your body light up like fireworks!

“Stop being so lewd!” you demand, but there’s no real conviction behind your words.

He groans against you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive sex, and you’re squirming and writhing again beneath him and you know he’s savoring every minute of this, soaking this victory of his up like a sponge,

“I can’t help it,” he confesses, his voice ragged, breathless, reverent, as he continues to lap at your thick slick more urgently now. It’s messy, it’s sloppy, it’s wet, unrestrained, some of that thick slick catching on his chin. “You make me so wild, baby.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit, fast, hard, precise, and you swear you’re going to lose your fucking mind. Your mind is still spinning with Satoru, Satoru, Satoru, oh fuck. But you don’t want to say it out loud. It’s too much. It’s way too much

“And you taste so fucking good,” he growls, hoarse, that reverence in his tone still prominent, unmistakable.

Every roll of his tongue feels amazing. It’s dragging you under like the tides. You allow yourself to drown in the sensations, to live in the moment. Hie’s clinging onto you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Finally, you feel something twitch down there, and something deep inside you snaps in two. The dam breaks, and you’re splattering more of your arousal on his face while screaming his name (something you can’t hold back now) which he gladly laps up like a thirsty dog, dramatically and loudly gulping down your slick as you come down through such an intense climax. Your pussy is still pulsating and he’s still licking along your gummy, sensitive skin, groaning at your natural taste; he tightens his grip on your hands, just slightly.

You find yourself pouting again when he pulls away, his lips and the bottom half of his face sheen from your slick. Your face is deeply red from arousal, panting as you come down. He shuffles around for more cleaning supplies, helping to wipe you down before helping himself.

“That convincing enough for you, gorgeous?” he inquires with a cheeky grin, sticking out his tongue in a petulant manner. He hums as he savors the taste of you still lingering on his tongue, dragging it along his teeth and catching any remnants of your taste.

“Fuck. That’s going to be amazing to come home to every day.”

“Satoru!” Your hands fly up to cover your face. “Stop! Stop! You’re being ridiculous!”

“I can’t help it,” he says again, prying your hands away from your face to get a good look at you in your flushed state. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. God, can’t you just let me spoil you now? Let’s stop dancing around this.”

“If you just stop being so….argh.”

“Like what, a pirate?” He strokes his chin as if lost in thought. “So when you say shiver me timbers, it’s because I’m making your legs tremble when I eat you out and worship you like the queen you are, right?”

You let out another frustrated groan and you so dearly want to wipe that stupid grin off of his pretty face! Why does he have to be so infuriating even now?? Even when you’re not wholly against the idea of being his girlfriend? It actually sounds kind of nice…

“OH MY GOD! SATORU! STOP!”

He chuckles, and a comfortable silence falls upon you both as you catch your breath.

“So does this mean you know how serious I am about you?” he finally asks, breaking through the silence. “I’m crazy about you. I’m nuts about you. I just want you to actually give me a chance to prove that to you.”

“There are so many more productive ways you could have gone about it,” you grumble with a shake of your head. “But fine, Satoru. You’ve earned this much. …I’m still a little pissed at you, but maybe you can make it up to me over time.”

“Deal,” he replies with a grin. “Just as long as I get to call you mine, and you get to call me yours.”

He cups his ear and leans in toward you, his grin not moving. “Now let me hear you call me yours.”

You roll your eyes in jest, leaning in toward him to whisper in his ear. “You’re mine, Satoru.”

His grin widens, and he pecks your lips, gazing into your eyes with pure adoration twinkling in them.

Yeah, you decide in your mind. You can give him a chance.

[1d1195]

Most - Extra I

Read Most here | ~2k words

From me: It's probably too early for an extra for them, but I seriously couldn't resist. Takes place sometime within the first couple of months of the last part.

Warnings: this is going to be disgustingly sweet. Nothing to report except you'll have a toothache after reading.

Summary: Harry gets to rush home from work now to the love of his life. Everything about her makes his heart ache.

Harry was exhausted. Now that she was home, he didn’t have a reason to avoid going home to be by himself. There was no need to feel suffocated by loneliness because he wasn’t alone anymore. So, he changed his work schedule quite a bit. He wasn’t single anymore (even if he never felt that way anyway). But he didn’t do overtime much anymore. He didn’t pick up shifts that others didn’t want or were unable to work due to their own families. The station was never left stranded regardless, but he wasn’t the go-to ask anymore. He felt a little bad and still occasionally took a short overtime shift, but not nearly as many as the insane hours he was prior to her coming home. He didn’t take his time leaving either the way he used to. There was no need anymore. Fortunately, all his coworkers were completely understanding.

48 hours on and 96 hours off. A normal shift for a firefighter. It was so much better than the 18-hour days he was doing before she returned. He could see her for days at a time. He pampered her, snuggled her, and kissed every inch of her skin like she might disappear again even though he really didn’t believe that anymore the way he did when she first came home.

But the end of this two-day shift left him exhausted. It was exceptionally busy. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Only one small house fire contained to the kitchen and the toaster that caught the curtain in the window at fault. There was lots of paperwork that needed filing and reporting for a hundred different things. There was more training. Another visit to the elementary school and a safety outreach program in partnership with other community groups.

Harry grabbed his bag from the back seat, locked his door, and headed inside. Each step felt heavier than the next. He couldn’t wait to get into bed beside her and snuggle her. With the way her work schedule was, she had arrived home after him the last few times. But today, her car was parked next to his. It made his heart flutter. Happy that he had everything he ever wanted. The love of his life, a cute house, and everything. But Harry could have done without the house, the car, the career he loved.

She was there.

That was everything.

It was late. Almost eleven. The outside air was chilly. The moon glowed so bright it almost felt like a stage light on his arrival home. There was the smell of a campfire somewhere a few streets over. All concluding to a perfect fall night. He almost wanted to wake her just so she could come outside and smell it because it reminded him of a bonfire they went to when they first started dating. They made out under a tree and giggled about all their future while their friends drank around the fire.

Quietly, he unlocked the door. He was hoping she wouldn’t wake from his arrival. Her classes alongside work had been kicking her butt. Maybe worse than a 48-hour shift not that she would ever let him think that. No, she doted on him and made sure he was doing okay regardless of how tired she was. It made his heart ache with how much she adored him, but Harry was lucky to have five days off between his shifts. She was lucky if she had one.

Kicking his shoes off right inside the door he was overwhelmed with how good it smelled. A combo of whatever she cooked for dinner and the now permanent scent of her hair care wafting through the house from bathroom all the way to the living room. If this had been even a year ago, Harry never would have thought it was possible to have it all. But the smell of her shampoo was enough to make his eyes watery. Especially after a long couple of days.

He dropped his bag by his shoes, locked the front door, and turned to make his way to the kitchen to put his Tupperware in the dishwasher. He wished he looked sooner because the sight made his heart skim a beat. A strangled, quiet groan came from his throat, as he tried to stop it so he would wake her. Wouldn’t start sobbing with how much he adored her.

Harry rushed to the living room sofa, dropped to his knees beside it. One hand fell to her hip and danced up the curve of her waist, resting on her ribcage as her breath moved her body up and down at gentle intervals. “Kitten,” he murmured.

She didn’t stir. Harry placed a hand over her ear along the side of her head. Softly he rubbed his fingertips into her head. “Baby,” he tried again. Seeing her so peacefully on his couch made him possessive and happy. He wanted nothing more than to watch her like she was his favorite show. All she had to do was sleep; it was enough entertainment for him. They dreamed of things like this and now it was here, and he felt so much love it made him want to cry.

She grunted softly. “Hi baby,” she hummed reaching out and grabbed at his T-shirt. She pulled at the chest, right below the collar of it and tugged him toward her more. Then, she slid her hand over his face. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Why aren’t y’in bed, kitten?"

"S'cold,” she mumbled, yawned.

“So, turn the heat up, baby,” a smile was in his voice as he shook his head at her.

She shook her head back in response. Slowly, she sat up. Her arms came and wrapped around his shoulders and tucked her face into his neck. “Not that kinda cold,” she mumbled.

Fuck, he loved her so much. She was so cute it made him want to scream. She was purposefully on the sofa. Waiting for him.

He swallowed the emotion that was blocking his throat, and he exhaled slowly to calm himself before he had to explain to her why he was crying like a baby because of her and how much he loved her.

He was royally fucked when she walked down the aisle. He would blubber. There wouldn’t be enough tissues in the world to dry his eyes.

“Baby, y'can't sleep on the couch every time m'at work."

"Watch me."

God. His arms tightened around her waist, and he kissed the side of her head as he rocked her gently. He couldn't be close enough to her. "S'bad for your neck t’be on the couch, kitten.”

"It's bad for my heart to be without you in bed."

Harry was going to sob because of her. He squeezed her again. He wasn’t arguing. He just wanted her to be comfy and cozy. Gently, he gripped just behind her knees and pulled her legs around his hips and swiftly stood all in the same movement. He kissed her temple. “Are you hungry?” She asked sleepily. “I’ll make you a plate,” but she nuzzled into his neck, and he almost wanted to say yes, just so he could see how she would manage while half asleep. He thought it was adorable. She was adorable.

“No, kitten. M’fine.”

She frowned. “Did you eat?”

“I ate baby. Don’t worry,” he promised.

“You don’t have to carry me. I’m heavy and you worked so long—”

“Shh,” he hushed. He supported one arm beneath her bum, cradling her to him. He carried her to the bedroom and placed her softly on the mattress before he moved away. She pouted rubbing at her eye with the palm of her hand.

“Where are you going?”

He really didn’t think his heart could take how cute she was. It felt like it was bursting, threatening to break out of his ribcage and find its way into hers so it could be next to her heart. “M’jus’ changing, baby, showered before I left,” he explained. “Gonna be all snuggled close.”

She sighed with relief. Crawled beneath the covers and waited patiently while Harry stripped down to his boxers and went to the bathroom to quickly swish his toothbrush around his mouth.

Harry wasted no time getting into bed. He lifted the sheet, blanket, and comforter that she had decorated the bed in a pattern Harry never would have had if she didn’t live with him. It was plenty warm. Rendering her defense all the sweeter.

He opened his arms for her to nuzzle against him where she also wasted no time falling into his embrace.

Maybe one day she would sleep in bed without him suffocating her with his cuddling.

But it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“I love you,” she murmured to him.

“I love you,” he kissed down the length of her neck.

“Missed you so much.”

Sometimes he didn’t know if he meant her shift or the three years that he didn’t see her.

“I missed you, baby,” honestly it didn’t matter what she meant because the moments she wasn’t within his sight he missed her like crazy. Too much time apart made him a little insane. A little hungry for time that he couldn’t get back. But he would try anyway and enjoy every second of it. “Don’t sleep on the sofa waiting for me,” he hummed. He worried about her always. “It’ll hurt your neck.”

“Don’t you care about how my heart will hurt, Harry?” Her voice was soft, joking.

“More than anything, kitten,” he promised, seriously. “M’always going t’come home t’you though. Did y’sleep on the sofa last night?” He wondered, realizing that there was always going to be a day he didn’t know where she slept. She nodded against him. No speaking. Perhaps she was too tired. Too tired to pretend as well. There was a tight pressure around his heart and a half-smile, half-frown pulled on his lips. “Baby,” he tutted. “I don’t want you t’do that.”

“S’too late. Spent too many nights without you,” she mumbled.

So, Harry understood. He would have to think of something to help her. But for now, he understood. “M’in love with you,” he reminded her.

“Me too, baby,” she squeezed him making him feel whole.

He cupped the back of her head, kissed the center of her forehead letting his lips press there for so long he hoped it would suction his mouth to her skin just so he never had to let her go ever again. “Can we have French toast in the morning?” She whispered.

He nodded easily, his eyelids felt heavier as they closed, and his chin bumped the top of her head. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”

“Whatever I want?” She murmured.

He nodded again. “Always.”

“Harry?” She whispered. It seemed she got a bit of a second wind from the time he got her off the sofa and brought her to bed. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t feeling any bit of it. As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to her for hours on end, he hadn’t slept much the last two days and he felt sleepiness winning over the desire to speak.

“Hmm?” He hummed, almost falling fast asleep before he could hear her again.

“I hate sleeping without you. I never want to do it ever again unless you’re working or you’re on a trip with your family or because Niall wants to sleep with you,” she took a deep breath while Harry smiled and shook his head at her. “So, when we get married, I don’t want to do a single night apart, not even the day before.”

Harry reached for her left hand that rested on his shoulder and he softly rubbed her ring finger. He nodded. Kissed the crown of her head and sighed. “Okay, angel,” he murmured. “No night’s apart that aren’t necessary.”

“I’ll stop talking. You can go to sleep.”

“Don’t get out of bed in the morning,” he murmured and squeezed her tighter. “I hate when y’do that,” he grumbled.

She giggled. “I’ll wake you.”

“Good,” he sighed. “I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you,” she answered. “More than anything.”

--

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[kitasgloves]

Having thoughts about arranged marriage au! with FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY. He only married you to get associated with your family's wealth. Oh, but poor naive you, who always believed in fairy tales and love stories. You believed you could love a mysterious, cynical, and dark man like Fyodor.

How pathetically determined you were trying to win his affection. Fyodor thought you were some sort of idiot for not taking a hint that he wasn't interested in romance. You two didn't share a room even if you two were married. There were no tender sentiments or words from him. He told you he wasn't keen on physical affection, surprise gifts, planned dates, or celebrating anniversaries. He strictly told you to keep your distance and listen to everything he said. The fact that you were eager to obey him made him think of you as positively foolish.

However, you were persistent. You tried to cook him food and sneak him small gifts. You made attempts to sing him love songs and throw small parties. You were a true romantic who believed in the magic of love. You were eager to have your husband fall for you as you fell for him.

Unfortunately, Fyodor was at his breaking point. You were so damn annoying and stubborn that it was getting difficult to contain his frustration with you. He snaps at you during dinner when you've planned another extravagant surprise for him.

"Didn't I tell you to quit that? We are not lovers, [Name]. We are only spouses on paper. I do not care about your affection for me"

He couldn't forget that evening. The moment Fyodor spoke those words, the glimmer in your eyes died. He felt momentarily satisfied thinking that you have finally snapped out of it. The following days were a series of odd changes from you.

Mornings were...quiet, for once. You stopped babbling nonsense to him and only focused on cooking and cleaning up. You ceased the gifts and surprise parties. You even quit playing those annoying love songs on the radio that he despises so much. It seemed as though someone had taken the battery out of you.

At first, Fyodor was pleased but as the days progressed, he felt...uncomfortable. He wouldn't like to admit but he does notice a lot of things about you. Such as your habits, and how you seemed to forcefully change them despite your discomfort. With your sudden quietness, he could see how you were avoiding his gaze and biting your tongue when alone together. And lastly, the disappearance of your fondness for him.

He despised to think how he appreciated how you paid attention to his preferences. You always knew which tea he liked, what classical music was his favorite, and how you often looked out for his health considering he has anemia. Now, you grew distant and stopped bothering him for attention.

Has your foolish infatuation with him vanished? If so, why does his chest feel tight? Fyodor waited for you to revert to you how you used to be. Cheerful, loud, and affectionate. He expects you to surprise him with a gift. The house seemed so empty without your constant talking.

Have you given up on romance? Or was it all just a childish dream to you all along?

You don't understand why Fyodor has been staring at you lately. He's been hanging around the house so much that it's suspicious. You can feel him following you around in every room as if expecting something. You're done trying to woo him and you've come to accept the fact that your husband is a cruel man. So, you grant his wishes and stop pestering him. However, in return, he's begun to silently pester you.

When you wish to be alone, Fyodor's always trailing behind you. He was beginning to praise your cooking unlike before. He invites you to go to the library to read or listen to Tchaikovsky with him. Whenever you leave without his knowledge and then return home, Fyodor wants to know where you went.

The old you would've been over the moon from all the attention he was giving you, but you've grown to lose your positivity about this marriage.

"Fyodor?"

"Yes, [Name]?"

"I think we should have a divorce"

The sound of the teacup clattering against the saucer fills the air. You slid the divorce papers across the table towards your husband. Fyodor swallows and blinks, registers his spilled tea and the divorce papers you have produced. He collects his composure.

"Why?"

"I don't see the point of this marriage anymore"

Fyodor likes to convince himself that he's not affected. It should be a benefit or a good opportunity to find someone better to marry. Yes, he's indifferent to the sight of your glassy eyes and wobbling lip. He does not care about the misery you carry of being married to him. Oh, what an absolute liar he was.

"No"

"...What?"

"We are not getting a divorce, [Name]"

You watched with ache as Fyodor took the divorce papers and tore them into shreds in front of your face. Your blood felt hot. Was he purposely torturing you? He has to be. Fyodor is nothing but a selfish man. He revels in your misery of bearing his last name.

Truly, Fyodor was selfish. Why? He couldn't bear to see you go or remarry somebody else. He couldn't stand for you to find your perfect fairytale romance with someone else. Your fondness should only belong to him. Was he not your first romance? Was he not the first one to ever witness your tender eyes? Fyodor just couldn't fathom you gifting another your previous affections. Nobody seemed worthy enough but he.

"We will make this marriage work"

You looked at him from across the table with contempt. You fail to register the determined and passionate look in his eyes.

You will learn to adore me again, one way or another

I've been brainrotting about Fyodor who tries to win his spouse's love back realizing that they're falling out of love with him like pleaaaase he's so unhinged when he's in love

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Been seeing some absolutely insane i mean neurodivergent discourse occasionally cross my dash lately and I gotta say that. Even as a certified Chappel Roan idgaf-er I think it's fucked up the extent to which people are playing internet telephone with her statement about not wanting to endorse Kamala Harris.

Like what she said boiled down to the most milquetoast "Yeah I'm voting for her but the Democratic party has problems and has done a lot of bad shit that shouldn't get swept under the rug". People are saying she's trying to convince people not to vote but like she literally said she's voting for Harris???

And then I saw someone post about how they're so disappointed to learn that Roan "said she's voting for Donald Trump because there are problems on both sides" and that's why the both sides are bad rhetoric is so dangerous. and like. WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT FROM????

I've seen at least two separate people straight up make up conspiracy theories about how she's actually a republican industry plant and her sudden explosion in fame this year was part of an election interference plan to convince young queers to sit this election out and let the republicans win like people are doing some straight up blue QAnon shit.

Just the perfect intersection of the way people are weirdly parasocial about her and the way liberals claim to hate the democratic party too but lesser evil etc etc etc but then jump straight into fanatic devotion mode the moment anyone actually voices any criticism of them.

[soaringwide]

PAC: What are their current feelings for you?

+ EXCLUSIVE EXTENDED KO-FI READING: Where is this connection headed?

hey :p

I like to do a blend of different types of tarot readings, and I realized I haven't done romantic readings in a while! So today's pick a card is meant to look into your person's current feelings for you.

I will keep this open for any level of closeness, as long as the person [I don't gender you or your person] has a minimum of a bond with you. Also, it is aimed for romantic connections so keep that in mind in case that's not something that's relevant to you.

If you find a pile that resonates, there is an exclusive reading ''Where is this connection headed'' available on ko-fi for members only. You can find more information on this post (or directly on ko-fi).

book a reading ★ ko-fi membership ★ all free PACs ★ pinned post ★ IG

PILE 1

Current energies: 8 of Cups, Seeking Pleasure, 10 of Cups

Currently, I think you are trying to let go of this specific connection. It seems you have been through a lot, and you reached a point where enough was enough, and you refused to take it any longer and decided to try to detach yourself from it.

However, i do think there are still some regrets about what could have been. It's like you're mourning the potential of what this connection could be or could have been, and you're wondering if you're not leaving behind something that could be your ultimate happiness. Many doubts and also perhaps a lack of trust of what else could bring you happiness that is making you cling onto this connection. So yeah, you're a bit stuck between a rock and a hard place at the moment, wanting to move on but also doubting a lot and not closing the door completely. I feel you quite worried and what ifs are swirling in my head. What if you made a mistake? What if you couldn't find something else that was better? What if you regretted it all your life?

Their feelings: 9 of Cups, 2 of Swords, 6 of Cups, 9 of Swords, 10 of Swords, Sweet Surrender, The Game of Love, Standing Alone

Their feelings are quite interesting. I see them currently quite stuck. With the 9 of Cups, on one hand they know they could get a lot of fulfillment from this relationship, but also, they are refusing or unable to surrender to it. All figures in this specific section are sitting, not acting one way or the other. They don't feel like they can do much and it's possible they don't know what they could do. Its like they desire coming towards you but they are not acting on it at all. I think there is an element of taboo in this connection. Perhaps they don't think you two are a good fit/you are too different in one way or another, and it's holding them back, or there is someone else in the picture… but in any case they are controlling themselves so much that it reached a point of complete immobility.

But simultaneously, they keep remembering the moments you had together like it was some type of game that only included the two of you. Like your own secret thing. It seems they miss that. They may be feeling over-burdened by something at the moment and they keep daydreaming about an escape. Its quite dreamy and not very grounded in reality I think. Like they are stuck in their head about this connection.

However, they seem to be feeling crushed to be left behind. It's a mix of worry and feeling like they fucked up terribly. They don't want to be left alone. But then again are they doing anything to hold you back? Not really. While you seemed to worry of what could be lost as a possibility, this person just feels the lack of you but is taking it as a total defeat, something they have no control over and can't change. I also feel like there are a lot of things they want to say, but for some reason they are holding back and I get the feeling that perhaps they think it's too late to say those things. They feel quite hopeless that's for sure.

Extended reading on my ko-fi membership-only page

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PILE 2

Current energies: Page of Cups, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, a Loving Gaze

You are currently really into someone and I feel it's in the early stages of the relationship, and seduction is showing up quite strongly. You are focused on mesmerizing them, watching them closely and trying to appear as your most beautiful self. Exchange of glances might be important, or just trying to get their attention by looking at them intensely. Some of you might be into glamour magic or use beauty practices in a somewhat ritualistic way.

I think you are very passionate about this person and feeling motivated, excited and adventurous, so after spending some time watching them so much, you are intending to approach them romantically with an offer, as shown by the Knight of Cups. What this offer is will depend for everyone, but it might be a date for some of you or simple just getting closer to them, asking their number or sticking up a conversation.

The overall energy is full of expectation, a love in the blooming stage, and I feel light and giddy. :)

Their feelings for you: Full Intimacy, Queen of Wands, Ace of Swords, Wheel of Fortune, 8 of Swords, the Fool

Okay so in the oracle card, the idea of gazes shows up again, so they definitely noticed you watching them and if you both locked eyes with each other it definitely had an effect! They feel a connection with you which makes them feel curious and optimistic about what could be. There is some desire as well.

With the Ace of Swords, there is a desire for communication as well. They wish to understand things better because I think they have some fear of rejections and looking like an idiot if the situation happened to be all in their head, so they need some reassurance because right now they might be overthinking and seeing the situation worse than it actually is.

So they are in a spot to want change and movement, ready to be surprised. I don't think they would take the initiative but they seem to be in an open and receptive place if you decide to make a move.

Extended reading on my ko-fi membership-only page

book a reading ★ ko-fi membership ★ all free PACs ★ pinned post ★ IG

PILE 3

Current energies: Queen of Pentacles, the Sun, Loving Yourself, King of Pentacles

Your current energy is all about focusing on yourself. It seems you are embracing your own light at the moment and nurturing your sense of self-love. So this is interesting because I see you refusing to compromise your well being and your inner balance for anyone, despite this being a reading about a connection, which I find so beautiful for you, Pile 3!

I think you are quite mature, not necessarily in age but at least in personality, or you're going through a phase where you're building this strong loving foundation for yourself.

And I think you're trying to attract someone who can be the King of Pentacles to your Queen of Pentacles (both showed up here). Someone who is secure and abundant for themselves and who can bring something valuable to your life without compromising your independence and own abundance.

Lastly, I also think you are focused on what brings you joy, what makes you feel happy and carefree and you really don't want to waste any energy on a connection that makes you feel anything but that.

Their feelings for you: Knight of Wands, 7 of Swords, the Star, Temperance, 4 of Wands, Doubt and Indecision, Memories and Remembrance

So it seems this person is seeing you as this powerful, whole and perfect person, Pile 3. You seem emotionally fulfilled to them, free and beautiful. I really get the sense that they are mesmerized by you.

I think this person is a friend you've known for a long time and who you have shared memories with. Someone who you shared laughter and celebrations or parties with, or at least had a lot of fun with. It seems your connection is very beneficial to them, makes them feel at ease, balanced, and perhaps even inspired if they are a creative soul.

Now, with the Knight of Wands, I definitely think they are attracted to you beyond just friendship, however, there are a lot of doubts here due to the fear to ruin what you have, because you seem so self sufficient and focused on yourself that they doubt you would be interested in them, and it makes them feel like their attraction for you is wrong and could lead to harm for the friendship.

I also think that your self confidence might highlight a bit on their own lack of it. Not to say that they aren't confident at all, they may very well appear confident around you, but since they see you so highly, they see themselves as a bit less in comparison and they again don't know if you would consider them romantically at all.

Extended reading on my ko-fi membership-only page

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[baelabong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴘᴀɪʀ

(ᴡᴏɴʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

plot: youre supposed to be studying but why is wonyoung the only thing running through your mind

notes: friends to lovers, wonyoung is just such a sweet popular girl, y/n’s lowkey a loser

rq: pretty sure someone requested wy fluff 😭

it’s a warm afternoon, and you’re sitting under the big oak tree by the track field, the one spot you and wonyoung always seem to end up at after class. you’re both supposed to be studying for the history test tomorrow, but clearly, only one of you is actually making an effort. your notebook is open on your lap, pages half-filled with notes, while wonyoung’s has been abandoned on the ground beside her.

"you know," wonyoung says, leaning back against the tree, her long legs stretched out in front of her, "we should hang out more after school."

you glance up from your notes, raising an eyebrow. "we hang out every day, wonyoung."

"yeah, but i mean without all the school stuff. no books, no homework," she waves a hand lazily in the air, her gaze drifting up to the sky. "just the two of us."

you blink at her, not sure where she’s going with this. "what, like... hanging out here isn’t enough?"

wonyoung turns her head, fixing her gaze on you. her eyes are bright, playful, but there’s something in her tone that feels just a little too casual. "no, i mean like a real hangout. you know... like a date."

the word hits you like a brick. your brain stalls for a second, scrambling to catch up. a date? you feel your heart do this annoying little jump in your chest, but you cover it up with a sarcastic laugh. you’re not about to let her get to you that easily.

"a date?" you snort, flipping a page in your notebook to look busy. "what, like coffee or something? how romantic."

wonyoung grins, and you can tell she’s enjoying this way too much. "could be coffee," she says, her voice teasing. "or maybe a movie. i’ll even buy you popcorn."

seriously? you roll your eyes, trying to focus on your notes, but you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. "sure, as long as you don’t fall asleep halfway through like last time."

wonyoung laughs, nudging your leg with her knee. "only if you pick something boring."

the thing about wonyoung is, she’s got friends everywhere. no matter where you go at school, someone’s waving at her, calling her name. she’s tall, taller than you by a lot, actually, so she stands out. it’s like she’s got this presence that fills up the space around her. normally, that would be intimidating, but you’ve known her for so long that it just feels... familiar.

but today, with the way she’s looking at you, it feels a little less familiar and a lot more nerve-wracking.

you try to keep your cool, though. she’s just messing with me, you think, but there’s this tiny part of you, this annoying, hopeful part that wonders if she’s actually serious.

wonyoung leans back again, looking way too pleased with herself. "what do you think?" she asks casually, like she’s not completely throwing you off. "wouldn’t we make a cute couple?"

"you’re ridiculous," you mutter, closing your notebook and stuffing it into your bag, trying to end the conversation before your brain spirals. you stand up, stretching your arms above your head to shake off the weird tension in the air.

wonyoung stands up too, towering over you, her grin still plastered on her face. "i’m not hearing a ‘no.’"

you shoot her a look, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "you know what, i think you should stop talking."

"or what?" she teases, taking a step closer, her height making you feel even more flustered. "you’ll fall for me?"

too late, you think, but there’s no way you’re saying that out loud. instead, you push past her, heading towards the school building. "i’m going to study. you can keep daydreaming about whatever it is you’re thinking."

"i’ll take that as a maybe!" she calls after you, her laughter echoing across the field.

you’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, surrounded by takeout boxes from the chinese food you both demolished earlier. the tv is on, playing some rom-com you’ve already seen a million times, but honestly, you’re not paying attention. and apparently, neither is wonyoung, who has been slowly but very deliberately inching closer to you the entire time.

at this point, her shoulder is pressed against yours, her leg brushing against your thigh every now and then. it’s like she’s not even pretending to care about the movie, and you’re doing your best to act like you don’t notice her being all... whatever this is.

suddenly, she speaks, breaking the comfortable silence. “hey,” she says, her voice a little too casual. “you ever think about what we’d be like if we were dating?”

you turn to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “why are you always bringing that up?”

she shrugs, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “i don’t know. it’s fun to think about.”

fun? you huff, focusing back on the tv even though your brain’s still processing what she just said. you roll your eyes, trying to keep it light. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m just saying,” she continues, bumping her knee against yours, “we’d be pretty cute together, don’t you think?”

oh my god. this girl is relentless. you can feel the heat rising up your neck, and it’s definitely not because of the stupid rom-com. “yeah, okay,” you mutter, still trying to keep your cool. you pick at the edge of the takeout box, avoiding her gaze. this is fine. everything is fine.

but wonyoung is clearly not done. she leans in a little closer, her voice dropping into that teasing tone she knows gets to you. “you’re into me, right? you’re totally crushing on me.”

you scoff, but your heart betrays you with how fast it’s racing. “wonyoung, stop being ridiculous.”

“admit it,” she says, grinning now. she’s so close you can feel her breath on your skin, and it’s starting to mess with your head. “you’d totally date me.”

oh, for crying out loud. you finally snap, turning to face her with a smirk, deciding to play along just to shut her up. “alright, fine. you’re cute, but i don’t know if i’d survive dating someone as annoying as you.”

wonyoung laughs, looking way too pleased with herself. “see? i knew it.”

you shake your head, finding her both insufferable and, annoyingly enough, kind of adorable. how did i end up here? you wonder, but the teasing has shifted something between you two. it’s subtle, but it’s there—an undercurrent of something you’re not quite ready to define yet.

the ridiculous tension lingers, though neither of you says anything. you just sit there, your shoulder pressed against hers, the space between you feeling smaller than it ever has before.

it’s late afternoon, and the warm golden light of the setting sun spills over the quiet neighborhood as you and wonyoung make your way home from school. you’re walking slowly, neither of you in a rush, with the faint hum of the day’s conversations still buzzing in your ears. the two of you had just come from your favorite café, where you spent a little too long sipping iced drinks and pretending you weren’t looking at each other every few minutes.

everything feels perfectly normal—until wonyoung suddenly stops in her tracks. she grabs your arm lightly, pulling you to a halt beside her. her touch is soft but firm, and it sends a jolt through you.

“hey,” she says, her voice quieter, more serious than usual. her tone catches you off guard, so you turn to her with a frown. wonyoung’s always teasing, always full of confidence, but right now, there’s a flicker of something different in her eyes.

“what’s up?” you ask, your voice casual, but your chest tightens as you sense a shift in the air between you.

wonyoung takes a small step closer, her hand dropping to her side as she bites her lip, eyes searching yours. “you know i wasn’t joking before, right?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost tentative.

you blink, thrown off by her sudden change in tone. “about what?”

wonyoung swallows, then meets your gaze again, her dark eyes steady. “about us. about the idea of… being something more.”

your heart skips a beat. it’s like time slows down for a moment, and you stare at her, trying to make sense of her words. she’s joking, right? you try to keep your expression neutral, but inside, your mind is racing. this is wonyoung, the girl who teases you endlessly, who always finds a way to get under your skin. there’s no way she’s serious.

“i thought you were just messing with me,” you say, keeping your voice light, hoping it’ll dissolve the tension in the air. because she has to be joking, right?

but wonyoung shakes her head, her lips curving into a small, almost nervous smile. “i wasn’t. i’ve liked you for a long time, y/n. i just didn’t know how to tell you.”

you blink again, your heart doing that annoying flutter thing it does whenever she gets too close. for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. all the teasing, all the flirting—was it real? had she meant it all along?

“you’re serious?” you finally manage to ask, your voice a little breathless.

“yeah,” she says softly, her eyes never leaving yours. “and if you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. i just… i couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

there’s a long pause. you stand there, staring at her, trying to process what’s happening. all the teasing moments between you suddenly seem a lot heavier, charged with a meaning you hadn’t dared to acknowledge before. wonyoung, the girl who always has a group of friends around her, the one who’s taller, more popular, more everything—she’s standing in front of you, confessing that she likes you.

it feels surreal, like a prank or some elaborate joke you’re not in on. this is wonyoung, of all people, you think. you glance away, feeling your face heat up, and immediately, you feel ridiculous for it. this isn’t how you imagined things would go, not that you had imagined this at all.

“you’re really ridiculous, you know that?” you mutter, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

wonyoung laughs softly, but there’s a hopeful edge to it, like she’s waiting for your reaction, gauging every word. “maybe. but does that mean you feel the same?”

your mind blanks for a second. do you feel the same? you’re not sure. you’ve spent so long trying to convince yourself that wonyoung’s teasing was just that—teasing. harmless fun. the way she’d lean in too close, poke at you, make comments about how you’d look cute together—it was just a joke, right?

before you can answer, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and the sudden urge to escape hits you hard. without thinking, you take a step back and shake your head, trying to clear the overwhelming thoughts crowding in.

“i… i need a second,” you stammer, turning away from her as embarrassment floods your chest. you start walking faster, your heart pounding in your ears. she can’t be serious. this is wonyoung.

“y/n?” wonyoung calls after you, a hint of amusement in her voice. “where are you going?”

“nowhere!” you yell back, quickening your pace as you try to outrun the flush creeping up your face. your feet move faster than your brain, and before you know it, you’re practically jogging down the street. great, you think, now i look like an idiot.

you hear wonyoung laugh behind you, and within moments, her long legs allow her to catch up to you effortlessly. of course, she’s taller, you think with a mix of irritation and admiration. you don’t dare look at her as she falls into step beside you, her breathing annoyingly calm despite your attempt to outpace her.

“are you seriously running away from me right now?” she asks, her voice filled with amusement. “i didn’t think i’d get you this flustered.”

“i’m not flustered,” you grumble, speeding up even more. but no matter how fast you walk, she stays right next to you, her long legs making it look effortless. it’s infuriating.

“you’re totally flustered,” wonyoung says, clearly enjoying herself now. “you’re practically jogging.”

“shut up,” you mutter, your face burning hotter by the second. you want to deny it, to brush off her words like you usually do, but you can’t. not this time. not after what she just said.

“come on, y/n,” wonyoung says, her tone softening again as she reaches out and gently grabs your arm, pulling you to a stop. “i’m not trying to make this weird. i just… i had to be honest with you.”

you stare at the ground, trying to get your breathing under control. what am i even supposed to say? your mind is a mess of emotions, half of you wanting to push her away, the other half wanting to pull her closer.

“look, if you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally fine,” wonyoung says quietly, her hand still resting on your arm. “but i had to tell you how i feel. i couldn’t keep pretending anymore.”

you finally look up at her, meeting her gaze. there’s no teasing in her expression now, just a quiet sincerity that makes your chest tighten. why does she have to be like this?

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her confession pressing down on you. your mind is still spinning, but deep down, you know the truth. you do like her. you’ve always liked her. you just never thought she’d actually feel the same way.

“you’re really ridiculous, you know that?” you say, your voice a little shaky.

wonyoung smiles softly, her eyes filled with hope. “maybe. but does that mean…?”

you take a deep breath, your heart still racing. “yeah, i feel the same.”

wonyoung’s smile brightens instantly, and before you can say anything else, she pulls you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you stand there, frozen for a moment, before finally relaxing into her embrace, letting yourself enjoy the warmth of her closeness.

as you pull back, you feel your face heat up again, but this time, you don’t mind as much. “we really are ridiculous,” you mutter.

wonyoung laughs, her eyes shining with happiness. “maybe. but we’re cute too.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.