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justatypicalwizard · 5 months ago

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Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut

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luv-lock · 28 days ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ PERFECT LIFE 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆ ── 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Yandere Damian Wayne x Fem Reader

☆ ── HEADCANON : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥?

☆ ── NOTE : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Marriage with Damian Wayne is not a fairytale—it’s an obsession disguised as devotion.

From the moment Damian slipped that ring onto your finger, he silently swore to himself that no force in the world—be it man, god, or monster—would ever take you away from him. You are his, and he is yours. Completely.

Damian is the kind of husband who worships you in his own intense, borderline overbearing way. He refers to you as "beloved" in private and "my wife" with a possessive pride when speaking to others. The word "you" leaves his lips like a prayer, filled with reverence and authority all at once.

He memorizes every single one of your habits and preferences. He knows how you take your coffee, the exact temperature you prefer for your showers, the kinds of books you gravitate toward, and even the way your breathing changes when you're upset. It’s all cataloged in his mind so he can anticipate your every need before you even voice it.

Damian rarely lets you out of his sight. Even when he's at Wayne Enterprises or patrolling Gotham as Batman, his mind is constantly on you. He has cameras in the house to check in on you, and you can bet he’s hacked your phone to keep tabs on your location. He tells himself it’s for your safety, but the truth is he can’t bear the thought of not knowing where you are.

You’ve noticed how Damian often hovers. At first, it felt sweet—your husband leaning against the kitchen counter, silently watching as you cook dinner. But after a while, you realize it’s less about affection and more about possessiveness. He watches you like a hawk, as if ensuring you’ll never slip away from him.

Damian is fiercely protective, to the point of paranoia. You’ve never had to lift a finger in defense because he handles every perceived threat with ruthless efficiency. Some guy at work who got a little too friendly? Fired and blacklisted within the week. A stranger who made you uncomfortable in public? Let’s just say they’ll think twice before crossing anyone again.

He insists on walking you everywhere, hand firmly clasped around yours. When you protest, he coolly reminds you, "The streets of Gotham are not safe, beloved. Allow me this privilege."

Damian is terrifyingly romantic in the most intense, Damian Wayne way possible. He fills your home with rare flowers imported from across the globe, but you’ll find out later he had the entire shipment rerouted because he didn’t want anyone else to have them. He writes poetry about you in Arabic, his handwriting bold and precise, and hides the pages in places he knows you’ll find them.

Arguments with Damian can be draining because he does not let go. He won’t shout or lose his temper, but he will dissect the situation until you either agree with him or admit defeat. And if you try to storm off mid-fight? Good luck. He’s faster, stronger, and determined not to let you leave unresolved.

His softer moments are almost disarming. You’ll catch him staring at you when you’re reading or brushing your hair, and he looks so boyish and in love that it takes your breath away.

Damian is obsessed with physical contact. Whether it’s his hand resting on the small of your back, his arm draped over your shoulders, or his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s always touching you. It’s both grounding for him and a subtle way to remind himself—and everyone else—that you’re his.

Your wardrobe slowly changes under Damian’s influence. He loves seeing you in luxurious silks and soft cashmere, claiming you deserve only the finest. He buys you dresses and jewelry that scream wealth and power, though he always insists that nothing could ever truly compare to your beauty.

He doesn’t tolerate secrets between you two—at all. If you’re upset, he’ll press and press until you spill your feelings, his voice gentle but firm. And if you ever lie to him? He’ll know instantly. He won’t get angry, but his silent disappointment will cut deeper than any words ever could.

Damian spoils you to the extreme, but there’s an undertone of control in it. He doesn’t say it outright, but you know he expects a certain level of reciprocation: your attention, your love, your time.

When he sleeps (if he sleeps), his arm is always around your waist. If you ever wake up in the middle of the night and try to leave the bed, he’ll instinctively pull you back, murmuring, “Stay with me, habibti.”

Despite his obsession, Damian loves you deeply and wholeheartedly. In his own way, he truly believes he’s doing what’s best for you—protecting you, cherishing you, making you feel adored. And in those quiet, tender moments when he presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers how much you mean to him, you can’t help but believe it too.

But deep down, you know: Damian doesn’t just love you. He owns you. And he will never let you go.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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misswynters · 3 months ago

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Broken and whole

pairing | Viktor x gn!reader

no warnings just passionate kissing

a short drabble until we wait for the next three episodes with jesus viktor <3 (he’s always been so fine)

– let me know if you would like to get tagged in arcane fics

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

In the night sky as the moonlight shines through the windows, the lab was filled with the low hum of machinery. It had a faint metallic scent of Viktor’s latest work. You leaned against the wall, watching him from across the room as he worked, utterly engrossed in his latest project. He had changed so much recently, both in body and spirit. The hextech augmentation now coursing through his leg gave him a powerful, refined look, yet you sensed a hidden struggle behind his carefully guarded gaze. You knew how he was. His mind was only half here, the other was lost somewhere between ambition and uncertainty.

He hadn’t noticed your arrival yet, too focused on the delicate mechanisms of the device in front of him. You admired him, his steady hand, his unwavering concentration, the way his golden eyes seemed to burn with a fire that was part passion, part burden. Yet you could see the toll it took, even if he would never admit it.

“Viktor,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.

His head lifted, and his intense gaze softened slightly as he saw you. “Ah,” he said, letting out a breath, “I didn’t realize you were here.” There was a hint of relief in his voice, as if your presence offered him a reprieve from the depths of his mind.

You approached him slowly, your fingers brushing the edge of the table. “I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s been days, Viktor. You need to rest.”

A flicker of defensiveness crossed his face, but it melted quickly, replaced by something almost vulnerable. “Rest,” he echoed, his voice laced with exhaustion. “It feels like a luxury I cannot afford.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn down, so caught between his dreams and the demands of his body. “Even visionaries need a break,” you murmured, reaching up to gently place a hand on his shoulder. He was warmer than you expected, his skin cool to the touch from the metal but still unmistakably him.

Viktor looked down at your hand, as if surprised by the intimacy of the gesture. His gaze softened, and he let out a soft, reluctant sigh. “Perhaps… perhaps you’re right,” he admitted, a slight smile breaking through the intensity of his features. “You always have been, haven’t you?”

There was a warmth in his voice that pulled you closer, and for a moment, you forgot the cold metal and complex machinery that surrounded you. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders under your touch.

“Viktor…” you murmured, your voice almost trembling with the unspoken words you had held back for so long. He looked at you, truly looked, his golden eyes reflecting something vulnerable, something raw that he rarely let show. “Yes?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your fingers tracing along his jawline, feeling the softness of his skin against the hardness of his prosthetic. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze focused solely on your face, as if you were the only thing grounding him in this moment.

“I worry about you,” you whispered, your voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the lab. “You give so much of yourself, but you leave so little room for…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For someone to care for you.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his hand lifting slowly to touch yours, his fingers tentative but warm. “I… I hadn’t realized,” he murmured, his gaze dropping for a moment before he met your eyes again. “But with you, it feels… different.”

A moment of silence passed between you, and in that silence, the unspoken words lingered, the weight of everything you had both held back coming to the surface. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor leaned forward, his face mere inches from yours.

“Different how?” you asked, your heart pounding as you felt his breath against your lips.

“Like I could… lose myself in you,” he whispered, a vulnerability in his voice that shook you to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed yours, soft at first, testing, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands moving to cup his face as he deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There was a hunger in his kiss, a desperation that spoke of the weeks, months, maybe even years he had spent holding back, afraid to want this, to want you.

The passion between you ignited, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that surprised you both. Viktor’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed to feel every inch of you, as if he were afraid you might vanish. His breath was ragged, each exhale a confession of how long he had kept himself from this moment.

He pulled back, only slightly, his golden eyes searching yours, his face open in a way you had never seen. “You…” he whispered, as if the words failed him, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are the one thing that makes me feel whole.”

You could see the storm of emotions in his gaze. Desire and hope. They were all woven together, vulnerable and unguarded. You wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself sink into the feeling of him holding you, his heartbeat quickening against yours.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, Viktor,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his, your fingers trailing down his arm, feeling the cool metal beneath your fingertips. “I’m here. Let me carry some of it with you.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he held you close, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair. “I never thought…” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to steady himself. “I never thought anyone could love someone like me.”

Your heart ached at the words, at the quiet self-doubt that he kept buried so deep. You tilted his chin up, meeting his gaze with all the strength you could muster. “I don’t love you despite anything, Viktor,” you said, your voice steady. “I love you because of who you are, all of you.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and then he kissed you again, harder this time, as if pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers pressing into you as though you were his anchor, the one steady point in the storm that was his mind.

The two of you stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet of the lab, lost in each other. Viktor’s hand traced gentle patterns along your back, his touch tender, almost reverent, as if he was memorizing every detail of this moment. And in that embrace, in the warmth of his kiss, you felt him let go of the weight he carried, just a little, as he allowed himself to surrender to you, even if only for this fleeting, stolen moment.

banner by. @cafekitsune

#arcane spoilers #viktor arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane s2 #jinx x reader

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harryspet · 1 month ago

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buy me presents | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!mafia!rafe x spoiled!bratty!reader, ex-convict!rafe, rafe has a spoiling kink, topper thornton x reader, kidnapping/confinement, bondage, mentions of death/violence, toxic relationship, NONCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: merry christmas eve! gif credit: @/janesarahspidey

In which Rafe is more dangerous than ever and he interrupts your honeymoon with your new husband.

word count: 6.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Somewhere like Greece seemed like a much better option for your honeymoon. Your husband, Topper, insisted that spending the end of year at a cozy, cabin in the mountains would be much more intimate. Besides that, you’d gotten married so late into the year that a tropical honeymoon was probably out of the question. You bargained for a trip to Greece in the spring and decided not to pout. At least a cozy mountain trip meant cute two-piece lounge sets with fur-line boots and adorable ear muffs.

That morning, he’d lugged all four of your suitcases into the back of his SUV, and you drove 4 hours from Figure 8 to the mountains. The car heater hummed softly as you stared out the window, the serenity of the trip barely masking your true feelings. You had the perfect winter wedding, a huge oval diamond on your ring, you’d snagged the most eligible bachelor in Kildare, and yet, you were still hoping for more.

Topper was all smiles when you arrived, chivalrously carrying all your things inside. The “cabin” he picked was less than low-key, which impressed you, from the outside it was covered in snow but you could tell there were at least seven bedrooms. Shivering you followed him inside. The moment the door slammed shut behind you, the noise felt strangely final, like you were trapped in a cage of wood and snow.

Your husband went to work on the fireplace, and still shivering, you wandered through the luxurious cabin’s living room. It was adorned with over-stuffed furniture, red-plaid blanket throws, deep leather couches, and velvet armchairs. A bear skin rug sat before the fireplace, a deer head placed ceremoniously over the mantle, “I was thinking we could decorate the place for Christmas. Make it real cozy. What do you think?”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips, “Yeah … where are we gonna get decorations?” You crossed your arms as you continued to shiver. Moving closer to him, you were hoping a spark would appear soon.

Topper glanced over at you, his face lighting up with excitement. "I figured we could take a drive into town tomorrow, get a real tree, maybe a few things for the mantel. It'll be perfect. You know, all the little touches."

The fire crackled in front of you as Topper carefully stoked the flames, his focus on making sure it blazed high. His back was to you, his arms flexing as he worked, and for a moment, you found yourself staring at him. Topper was handsome, successful, and undoubtedly a good man. You let yourself feel grateful that he’d put so much thought into this trip.

Planning your dream wedding had completely consumed your thoughts this year, bringing you unimaginable anxiety. Every decision, every detail had been meticulously planned, from the dress to the flowers, the venue, and every single guest on the guest list. You’d sacrificed sleep, health, and sanity in pursuit of perfection. But now, the wedding was behind you, and the weight of it all seemed to evaporate in the crisp mountain air.

You decided that this was the time to finally let go of the constant pressure and to simply enjoy being married, “Sounds perfect,” You responded, and at the same time, you saw the first spark. Topper stoked the fire, letting it grow, and you finally felt the comforting heat, “The tree has to be at least nine feet, okay? With red and gold bulbs and big poinsettias. I want my sister to totally freak out when I send her photos.” You said it with a small smirk, imagining her wide-eyed reaction to the grandeur of it all. You were already picturing the perfect holiday setup, one that would leave no room for comparison.

“You got it,” He stood up from his place kneeling by the fireplace, dusting off his pants, and leaned in to kiss you softly. His voice was low, reassuring, and you picked out the way his eyes soften at the sight of you. Topper Thornton was madly in love with you, “What sounds good for dinner?”

“Steak?” You offered, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Outside, through tall glass windows, you watched snow fall down on the landscape.

“Steak it is. I’m gonna make you an amazing dinner and then we’re going to have the coziest night in.” He leaned down to kiss you on your forehead and you watched as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I will …unpack,” You declared, staring around the room, already envisioning where you would settle.

The master suite was tucked away on the upper floor, accessed by a grand staircase with a dark wood banister that creaked softly under your footsteps. The soft glow from the chandelier above cast a warm light over you. The stairs led to a long hallway that ended in double doors, adorned with heavy brass handles.

At the center of the room stood a four-poster king-sized bed with a thick down comforter and piles of plush pillows, framed by an elegant dark wood bed frame. Across the room was yet another fireplace and you imagined a warm, cozy consummation of your marriage. You were no virgin, and Topper hadn’t proposed to you before sampling what he intended to lock down for the rest of his life, but you wanted it to be special.

Your eyes wandered to the private balcony accessed through French doors offered views of the snow-covered expanse but was too cold to truly enjoy. Instead, you turned your attention to unpacking yours and Topper’s luggage, organizing your belongings in the spacious walk-in closet. The expansive vanity soon became a canvas for your collection of beauty trinkets and makeup, each item finding its place as you settled into your new surroundings.

You joined Topper for dinner, the mouth watering aroma already having reached you upstairs. Topper was good at being doting, remembering to pull out your chair for you, making sure your glass of red wine never fully emptied. Part of your heart fluttered, the other, more realistic half was skeptical. You couldn’t help but reflect on the endless conversations you’d had with your therapist. She’d pointed out time and time again that you struggled to let people fully in, even the ones who loved you.

This was the time, Y/N, to finally let someone in. What better person than the one you agreed to marry?

Dinner was more than pleasant, and as the wine started to warm your cheeks, the conversation turned light. It was fun. Sometimes you forgot how much fun Topper could be.

Topper’s voice was low and teasing, “If you could switch lives with anyone for a day, no strings attached, no responsibilities, no commitments, who would it be and why?”

You paused, the question hanging in the air for a moment. Topper leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying the challenge he’d just given you. You could tell he was genuinely curious, but also hoping to catch a glimpse of something unexpected, something about the woman he’d married that maybe even you hadn’t fully explored.

Your fingers played with the stem of your wine glass as you thought, the question pulling you into a brief moment of reflection.

“Hmmm…” you mused, your heartbeat picking up, though you kept your face neutral, “I think… I’d pick my oldest sister. She does everything right. She’s got it all together. At least, that’s what my Mom and Dad always say.”

“Really?” Topper smiled, taking a sip from his wine, “Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Maybe because you felt no judgement at all, you kept speaking, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t love my life now. But all I wanted when I was a teenager was to be the godliest woman, to get married young, and you know, do all the things a pastor’s daughter is supposed to do. And I watched all three of my sisters do it and…they’ve just never approved of my decisions.”

You were sitting across from the only decision your parent’s approved of but you weren’t always Topper Thornton’s wife. For years, they’d considered you “lost”.

Topper gave you a soft smile. “I’m surprised but it’s kind of nice to … to know you more. I want to know your more, Y/N,” You understood what he meant. You did your best to come across only how you wanted others to perceive you, “You know, you’re exactly where you need to be, right here with me. And I’m sorry, but your parents are idiots.”

You nodded, laughing, before you down the rest of your wine, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Topper’s eyes widened, “Is it upstairs?”

You nodded, standing from the table. “Yes. I’m going to get ready. Toss these dishes in the sink, I’ll clean them tomorrow, and meet me upstairs in… five minutes, okay?”

“Can’t wait, Mrs. Thornton,” He winked and you scurried away from the table with a mischievous smile.

It took you a lot longer than five minutes to get ready and you were lucky that Topper had known you well enough to give you more time. You chose an outfit you’d been waiting to pull out since the beginning of planning for your wedding. The nightgown was crafted from soft, white silky fabric, it’s neck plunged and the neckline was adorned by lace. The hem ended just before the middle of your thighs, teasing yet tasteful, and the robe that accompanied it was made from the same light, airy material. You tied the robe lazily in front, letting the fabric cascade over your body.

You were applying lipgloss in the mirror when you heard the closing of a car door. You paused for a moment, wondering why he had gone out to the car. Deciding you were presentable enough, you left the room. At the top of the stairs, you heard the shuffling of feet and assumed Topper had made his way back inside.

“Babe?” You inquired as you made your way down the stairs. Your stomach dropped the moment that your bare feet hit the bottom step. You gripped the stair railing as your eyes tried to make sense of the movement in the dimly lit downstairs. All you could really tell was that Topper was not alone and dark figures had crowded the living room.

Then your heard a painful grunt and recognized the sound as belonging to Topper. Abort, abort, abort, the little voice in your head said. When you turned around, there was a dark figure standing at the top of the stairs now. You immediately recognized the cold, calculating look in his eyes. He was one of Rafe's men. You couldn’t remember his name, but the air around him was thick with malice. He didn’t need to say a word for you to understand his intent: you weren’t going anywhere.

A scream left your lips before you could cover your mouth with a shaky hand. “Stay still,” the man at the top of the stairs said in a low, gruff voice. His hand moved toward his waistband, and your stomach twisted as you feared the worst.

You moved forward despite his words. The shuffling from the living room intensified, followed by another grunt from Topper, which made your legs nearly buckle beneath you. You were so, so, so close to the door but a few steps in that direction made you realize there were two other men blocking that exit. You turned around slowly, following their line of the sight, and moved in the only direction there was.

You padded closer to the living room, a crackling fire the only source of light in the room. Rafe Cameron stood, tall and commanding, gun pointed to your husband’s temple. He already owned every inch of the space.

Topper’s eyes flicked toward you, panic and fear evident in them, but he didn’t speak, not while Rafe’s gun was so close to his head. His jaw clenched, and he shifted uncomfortably in place, his hands bound behind him. Two other dark figures stood nearby and you quickly processed that they were most likely the ones who overpowered your husband.

Cold, calculating eyes locked on you. Oh god, you thought, you’d really done it now.

It wasn’t love at first sight with Rafe Cameron. Not even close. But it was fire—raw, passionate, and all-consuming. You were at the end of your rebellious phase, days away from moving back home, and finally agreeing to go to that Christian college your parents always wanted you to go to.

It really started with a pair of diamond earrings. Not a conversation, not a connection, just a gesture that hit you like a freight train.

He presented them after he’d given you three earth-shattering, bed-frame-slamming orgasms in a row, and you’d dozed off in his bedroom, tangled in the sheets, not caring that it was a late-night rendezvous that was never supposed to mean anything. The earrings were tucked inside a velvet box that seemed almost out of place with the raw, unrestrained chaos of the night.

“Are you paying me for sex? Like a hooker?”

“You’d think I’d buy diamond earrings for a hooker?” His voice was steady, as if he hadn’t just spent hours making your legs shake. “No, this is an investment. I want my future wife to know I can give her nice things.”

"Shut up," you muttered, not trying to keep the sting out of your voice. You weren’t his property. You weren’t someone’s investment.

Rafe only smirked, eyes predatory but amused. You accepted, of course, and you tried them on just minutes later. You’d never owned anything so … sparkly. They were the opposite of modest, the opposite of the world you were so close to entering again.

There was no amusement in the look Rafe Cameron was giving you now, his black suit molding perfectly to his tall, muscular frame. “And here she is,” Rafe announced, a smile on his lips with absolutely know joy behind it, “The beautiful bride!”

“Rafe …” You steadied your breathing as much as possible, “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t help but notice his hair—buzzed short, a sharp contrast to the way he used to wear it. It gave him a more rugged and dangerous look, one that matched the quiet menace he often carried in his demeanor.

“What does it look like? I came to congratulate you two.”

“Put the gun away,” You stepped closer, arms wrapping around yourself, wanting to conceal your vulnerable form from the men in the room, “He didn’t do anything. You know he didn’t. I’m the one who–”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I did consider him a good friend of mine, you know? S’pose to look after my girl while I did my time. Guess you thought I was giving you permission to fuck her,” The barrel of the gun pressed harder into Topper’s temple and you cringed. His icy blue eyes pinned you in place as he scanned over you. You wanted to scream, to throw yourself at Rafe and tear the gun from his hand, but something in you knew that it wasn’t that simple. It never had been with Rafe.

“No, you don’t get to do this,” You declared, raising your voice as much as your body would let you, “You went away. I ended things. You don’t get to tear everything down just because you can’t let go.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you could see the nerve you’d struck written all over his face, “She’s not your girl anymore,” Topper spoke through gritted teeth, “You can’t–”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with a fury that turned his features hard and before you could take another breath, he moved with lightning speed, raising the gun in his hand. The crack of metal meeting flesh filled the room as Rafe pistol-whipped Topper across the face, sending him crumbling to the floor.

“Fuck!” You cursed, tears stinging your eyes. You fought the urge to keel over and release the contents of your stomach at the sight of the blood gushing from Topper’s face. A blind rage came over you as you started to struggle to breathe.

“Neither of you get to tell me what the fuck to do,” Rafe’s eyes bore into you.

You moved closer, wanting to check and at least make sure your husband was still breathing. Before you knew it, Rafe’s gun was pointing at you.

“No, leave him. You. Sit,” He gestured the gun towards the leather couch.

You hesitated and Rafe easily pointed the gun back at Topper. A threat. Shakily, you stepped away from Topper’s figure, and sat down on the living room couch. You tried to steady yourself, stop yourself from vibrating with anger, to calm your nerves so you could think rationally.

Across the room, Rafe did the same, though his movements were more restless, more frantic. He paced back and forth, his boots thudding softly against the carpet. The gun never left his hand, his fingers curling tighter around it as he muttered under his breath, words too quiet to make out.

It was a scene you had witnessed before. Rafe trying to calm down after doing something reckless. Something violent. You wanted nice things, sure. But not like this. Not at the cost of your peace, your sanity. And certainly not at the cost of your safety.

The realization hit you then. The crazy that came with Rafe Cameron? You had never wanted it, not really.

“What do you want from us?” You asked, lips trembling.

“Nothing from him,” Rafe decided quickly, “From you. There is no limit to all that I want from you, Y/N.”

You breathed deeply, “What do you want me to say? You want me to lie to you, Rafe?”

Rafe nodded his head as he thought about your words, “I want that ring off your finger …” He trailed off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You look down at your left hand as it sat on your lap. You quickly covered your left hand with your right, “Take if off,” He continued and when you didn’t budge, he added, “I’m not asking. Do it or-”

Angrily, you kept your eyes on him. You pulled off your engagement ring and wedding band, tossing the two at his feet.

“Good,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze narrowing, though he still smirked. "You’ll regret that."

He leaned down to take the rings into his hand, “Hmm, you always told me you wanted a pear shape. I know you didn’t change your mind that quickly. Let me guess …you mentioned it but he never remembered. And you were just so grateful that he even got down on one knee for you.”

Rafe’s words stung, his mockery of your past with Topper hitting harder than you expected.

“I love it. You know all I really care about is a big diamond, Rafe,” You spoke through a painful smile.

“I know I’m not the only man in the world with money,” Rafe said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “But what you don’t understand is, he wouldn’t have anything without me. That new real estate venture of his? The one he’s so proud of now? It started with me. And what does he do? He swoops in, steals my girl, and then steals five million dollars from me. That’s what all of this is about, sweet girl. I’m here to collect what’s owed to me.”

His words hit like a slap, each sentence dripping with resentment and possessiveness. The revelation about the money, about the real reason for everything that had led to this moment, twisted in your stomach like a blade.

“He didn’t steal me,” You countered bitterly, “I was never going to be yours. You’re a criminal.”

There was a dangerous intensity in Rafe’s eyes. Your arms crossed now out of defiance. Rafe nodded, smiling, “You’re right about one of those things. Wrong about you never being mine. But you’re right about me being a criminal.”

Rafe crossed the room and your heart leapt from your chest as your leapt from your seat. Rafe Cameron introduced you to a violence you’d never known, and in less than a second, completely broke your heart. Topper, already passed out and crumpled on the floor, didn’t stand a chance. Standing over his body, gun angled to the ground, Rafe shot your husband in the head.

Another second later, he was handing your rings over to one of his henchman standing nearby, “Go ahead and bury these with him.”

Your knees buckled at the sight …the parts of his brain that were scattered all over the carpet. our hand trembled as you reached for him, but the second you touched his skin, the realization that he was gone set in.

You heard Rafe’s voice, his focus was elsewhere. You thought you might’ve heard his laugh. The sound was the last thing you heard before everything went still.

Ropes bit into your wrists. You tried to pull yourself up, the softness of the mattress making you sink further, and then you felt a strong hand on your waist holding you in place. Turning your head rapidly, you saw both your wrists tied to the opposite ends of the wooden bed. Looking down, not only did you see your lingerie still in place, but Rafe Cameron was kneeling between your legs.

He’d remove his clothes except for his slacks though you could see his belt was loosened. You pressed your head back into the mattress, pulling at your restraints, “This is low, even for you,” You breathed out.

“Low? You’re being dramatic.”

“You killed my husband,” you whispered, the weight of the truth settling like a stone in your stomach. Slowly, he crawled on top of your, shirtless and even more sculpted than you remembered. His frame, lean and muscular bathed in the warm glow of the room's lighting. His chest was broad and defined with every line of his torso sharp. Your eyes found his shoulders, broad and powerful, tapering down to a narrow waist. Prison had not only hardened his frown lines, it had hardened every part of him.

Rafe’s eyes flickered as he looked down at you, a brief flash of something—guilt, maybe? That look was gone quickly, replaced with something colder, harder.

Unable to hide the panic in your voice now, you continued, “Rafe …don’t … please-”

He searched your face, “Please?” He raised an eyebrow, “My spoiled brat remembers her manners?”

“I hate you,” You tried to blink away the tears that were forming in your eyes. Rafe caressed your face, thumb dragging over your cheeks, “God, I fucking hate you.”

His hand moved to your neck, his grip tightening there, “You didn’t give a shit about him. I know you. You were settling.”

“You don’t–”

“You forget,” He squeezed tighter, "Stop pretending I don’t know you. I see right through the act. I know what excites you, what gets your heart racing. That ring? It was never what you wanted. This whole life you’ve been pretending to want. You play innocent in front of everyone-”

“Get off me–”

He squeezed harder, his grip forcing your breath to catch in your throat. Your eyes widened in panic, but his gaze never wavered. “You want the private jets, the black card, the shopping sprees that never end, the villas in Italy, the lifestyle that makes everyone look twice when you walk into a room. You want to be the center of attention, the prettiest thing in every room. You want to be seen—on someone’s arm, my fucking arm. You crave the power that comes with being with a man like me.”

“A man who can kill and get away with it. Who has the power to have someone else do all his dirty work,” His voice had grown sensual, and his dark words caressed your ear now. You weren’t breathing right but your chest did not heave up and down, you remained in the trance that his words put you in, “What would I feel if I put my hands between your legs right now?”

“Rafe…” You whispered.

“What baby?” He purred.

“You’re a narcissist,” To your shock, he smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. And in that moment, you knew: you’d already lost.

Rafe attacked the side of your face with his mouth, leaving kisses along your jawline, before he forced his lips on yours. He tasted the same, you realized that quickly, and you were transported to a time in your life that you’d been trying to suppress the last two years. You struggled beneath him as he pressed his lower half into your, pinning you fully.

The restraints were the cherry on top of your misery. Rafe could hold you down with no problem and yet he wanted to remind you that you were being punished.

“You don’t have to worry about me going away again,” He whispered through warm kisses against your skin, “I’m running a tighter operation, okay?”

Your attempts to turn your face away were futile, as your bare neck became his next target. You already felt betrayed by your body. Your body remembered Rafe, and certainly remembered your weakest spot. You pulled at your restraints, stifling the moan that was threatening to leave your lips.

“No,” you bit out, yanking at your restraints as if sheer willpower could set you free.

But Rafe only pressed more of his weight against you, pinning you further beneath him. “No?” he echoed mockingly, “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until you come for me. A few times, at least,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. “Gotta make up for lost time, don’t we?”

You wanted to scream at him, to spit out how impossible his demand was, how utterly absurd it was to think you could find any pleasure with the man who had done something so unforgivable, so monstrous to someone you cared for.

But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the heat coursing through you. His mouth trailed lower, and your resolve wavered. “That’s it,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with smug confidence, “don’t fight it. You know I always get what I want, baby.”

You searched your brain for the right words. “Rafe Cameron. Don’t. I won’t forgive you if you do this!”

“I don’t need your forgiveness, baby,” He kissed the skin between your breasts, your plunging neckline leaving you vulnerable, “You’re scared you’re going to like it. That I’m right. C’mon, let Daddy take care of you.”

Rafe’s body moved lower and your panic continued. Strong, thick arms, kept your thighs pinned as Rafe teasing kisses on the outside of your thighs. If your thighs were pressed together, you had no doubt you’d feel a stickiness between them. Your body was ready even if your mind wasn’t.

When he lifted your thin nightgown and pulled your panties to the side, you tilted your head back in defeat. Now, the battle was in not completely losing your mind. Feeling his warm breath against your most sensitive organ made you realize you’d lose that battle too and quickly. His initial movements were a clear attempt to savor you. Slowly, so painfully slow.

The intimacy was something you weren’t prepared for. The way Rafe Cameron moved his mouth against you was extremely personal. His touch went from light and slow, gradually building up to something that was sharp and intentional. Something that didn’t change, something often left out of yours and Topper’s sex life, was a steady rhythm.

Unfortunately, you’d been so busy with the wedding, even your wedding night was too chaotic to consummate the marriage. You hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks.

Your first orgasm came so quickly that you hadn’t realized it was happening until your body started to convulse and a yelp was on your tongue, “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cursed. You refused to look down at him but you couldn’t bear to look at his wicked grin. His tongue trailed down to your entrance momentarily but soon he was relentlessly attacking your sore bud again. Rafe was consuming you, “Rafe, please …okay, okay, I came. You can stop now!”

“Why would I stop, baby, when I’m giving you everything you deserve?”

He responded to every reaction. Every attempt to pull away, he kept you steady. You struggled as much as you could and let out frustrated screams. Every attempt to pull away, he kept you steady. He pulled you closer to his mouth, using your hips as an anchor. When you inevitably felt you had nothing left to give him, he forced it out of you.

He talked to you, coaxing you through the orgasms you were struggling to give him.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll take you home, buy you every little thing you’ve ever wanted.”

Warm and wet, that’s all your body could focus on. You were embarrassingly wet. Your entire body was warm. Your toes curled and you breathed so heavily that you thought you were having a panic attack. You were a sweaty, shaking, cursing mess by the time he finally let you go.

After Rafe, gently undid your restraints, the coaxing continued. “Daddy’s gonna make sure you’re taken care of. Spa days. Vacations. Real ones. Anything for my girl.”

The silent treatment had never been your style. You were outspoken to a fault, the kind of person who always had something to say, even when you shouldn't. But now, the words were stuck in your throat. You curled your body away from him, your knees pulled to your chest, still trembling from the aftershocks of his touch.

The weight of the last 24 hours pressed down on you. You tried to rationalize, to convince yourself you hadn’t done anything wrong. You hadn’t pulled the trigger. But none of that mattered now. Someone was dead, and the blood felt like it was on your hands, too.

You turned your face into the pillow, desperate to block out the sight of Rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, calm and composed as if nothing had happened. Rafe Cameron didn’t earn his money honestly; you’d always known that. But the full extent of his power, the lengths to which his influence stretched, were incomprehensible. He had people who would bury bodies for him, without question, without hesitation. Who was he now? What had he become in the years since you’d last truly known him?

Your mind wandered to the kind of money he must have. Enough to make men loyal to him beyond reason. Enough to buy silence, loyalty, and the kind of life most people couldn’t even dream of. Maybe he was serious about the private jet and villas in Italy.

You felt it in the hand he placed on your upper thigh. Power.

“Gonna run you a bath, baby.”

As soon as he was out of your sight, you pulled yourself up from the bed. Your eyes locked in on your bruised wrist and then lingered on your empty ring finger. Throwing weak and wobbly legs over the side of the bed, you made a dash for the bedroom doors.

Maybe you could make it. Do the right thing. Get help-

But as you pushed open the door, the sight of a man standing just outside stopped you cold. He was armed, his posture too relaxed for someone holding that kind of power in his hands. He didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. His presence alone was the warning: Don’t even think about it.

You heard stomping, heavy footsteps of a brute you use to love, before arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards. Heavy wood doors slammed and made your heart jump.

“Running, huh?” Rafe growled in your ear, “After I’ve been so sweet to you?”

You struggled to the point that Rafe had to tackle you to the floor. You thought about Topper. You thought about the man outside the door listening to everything happening in this room. You thought about how gentle Rafe had been with you in comparison to now. You made a mistake. Running was a mistake.

“Hey!” Rafe’s voice snapped you from your panic and you stared up at him with wide eyes, “You’re okay. These guys are here to protect you. That’s it. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

His words clashed with everything you’d seen, everything you felt. Protect you? From what? From who? The only danger in this room was him.

Rafe released one of your wrists to brush your hair from your face, the gesture at odds with the raw power still holding you down. “I’m not mad, baby,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “But don’t make me chase you again. Don’t wanna hurt you. Now, you up for that bath?”

There was no choice in the matter, you simply just gritted your teeth. You feared the second option would be to be tied up again.

To your dismay, you undressed from your thin layer of clothing, and stepped into the bath. The warmth was a reminder of this entire home’s original purpose. Rafe seemed to have no shame about completely destroying your honeymoon. Your body was stiff and you didn’t meet his eyes as he kneeled by the tub, running his fingers through the water, before he caressed your arm, “See, not so bad,” Rafe said, “I missed you, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you missed a lot of things in jail,” Pulling your knees up cover your chest, you kept your eyes focused on the bubbles in the water.

“I think I missed your smart mouth most of all,” You jumped at the sound of him slapping his hand against the porcelain of the tub. He rose from his kneeling position and turned in the direction of the room, “Finish up. I got you some stuff. Want you to see it.”

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding in your chest. The warmth of the bath felt suffocating now, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air. You sank lower into the water, trying to collect your thoughts.

You hated him. Hated the way he controlled you, the way he twisted every situation to suit his needs. But deep down, buried beneath the fear and anger, was the part of you that had always craved the kind of life only someone like Rafe could provide. And it scared you to realize that even now, when you should want nothing more than to escape, some small, selfish part of you still wanted to see what he had waiting for you.

Taking your time, you scrubbed away the scent of Rafe, although you still couldn’t shake that feeling of his mouth on you. You felt as if you had completely come undone. A part of you feared that he might have ruined you with how relentless he’d been.

Taking back some of your modesty, you dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. He was waiting for you, immediately crossing the room, as you opened the bathroom door. Placing a gentle hand on your back, he ushered you forward, “Been thinking about this the whole time I was gone.”

On the bed was a collection of boxes, neatly arranged like a display in a high-end boutique. Your breath hitched as your eyes scanned over them. Velvet jewelry cases, designer shopping bags, and a shoebox with the logo of a luxury brand you’d only ever admired from afar.

You turned your head to look up at him. You attempted to convey something serious, a warning, a please stop and yet you were sure you could only display uncertainty in that moment. “Don’t be shy, baby. These are for you.”

Your feet carried you forward reluctantly, your mind warring with itself. You didn’t want to feed into his delusions that he could buy your affection. But the truth was, a part of you wanted to see.

He reached for a small box first, flipping it open to reveal a ring. The diamond was massive, glittering under the light in a pear shape that was both elegant and extravagant, “I know it’s not the ring you got but it’s the one you deserve.”

“Rafe,” you exhaled, his name slipping from your lips with a softness that startled even you. The sound was far more intimate than you intended, like an instinct you couldn’t control

Like a magnet, your hand moved towards the box. Before you could reach it, Rafe flashed you a smirk, before he took the ring of the box and gestured for your hand. Your fingers trembled. He slid the ring onto your finger with deliberate care, his touch lingering just long enough to make your pulse race.

Your lips parted in awe as you marveled down at the at least. “Oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“Told you,” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “Nothing but the best for you, baby.”

It was so beautiful, so perfect, it almost made you forget the ugliness of how it had ended up on your hand.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, barely recognizing your own voice. Whether the gratitude was genuine or forced, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to read the thoughts behind your expression. “You deserve it,” he said softly, “You deserve everything.”

You weren’t sure if he was right but he was offering something you knew no one else could. And it scared you how much you wanted it.

Reblogs are much appreciated if you enjoyed!!

#rafe cameron #dark fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #topper thornton #topper thorton x reader #black!reader #outer banks smut

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moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

Text

The fire between us | LN4

☃️ summary ━━━━━━━ Trapped in a Swiss cabin during a snowstorm, Lando and Y/N, who’ve been friends for less than a year, are left alone. As they play strip poker, hidden feelings surface, leading to a playful, intimate night where their connection deepens.

☃️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

☃️ word count ━━━━━━━ 7.4k

☃️ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

It was the week before Christmas, and the Swiss Alps had transformed into a winter wonderland. A luxurious cabin was nestled at the foot of the mountains, offering everything one could dream of—cozy fireplaces, panoramic views, and an atmosphere thick with the promise of festive memories. Lando had been the first to arrive. As the one who’d paid for the cabin and organized the trip, he had eagerly anticipated the getaway with their friend group. He loved skiing, but even more than that, he loved the idea of spending a few quiet days away from the hustle and bustle. More than anything, though, he was excited about being alone with her—Y/N.

From the moment they met less than a year ago through mutual friends, Lando had been captivated by her. She was different, making his heart race just a little faster whenever she was near. He tried to hide it—keeping his feelings buried beneath casual conversations and friendly smiles—but every time he saw her, his heart betrayed him. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Despite his efforts to keep his feelings hidden beneath casual conversation and playful teasing, they simmered just below the surface, growing stronger each time they hung out.

But Y/N had no idea. At least, that’s what he thought. She treated him like a close friend—nothing more. They’d spent time together over the months, enjoying each other’s company, making memories, but it was always just... friendly. And Lando had become all too familiar with that painful distance—the fine line between friendship and something more that he had no idea how to cross.

That was until this trip.

When Y/N finally arrived, she was the second person to make it to the cabin. And just as she stepped out of her car, the snowstorm began. The storm had been forecasted, but it hit much harder than expected. Before long, the roads were impassable, and their friends were stuck on the other side of the mountain, unable to get to the cabin. Just like that, Lando and Y/N were alone together, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with only each other’s company to keep them entertained.

Y/N was still adjusting her coat, brushing the snowflakes from her hair as she walked inside, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Lando, who had been staring out the window with a faint smile, snapped out of his daze when she appeared in the doorway.

“Hey! It’s freezing out there,” she said, stomping her boots on the mat as she entered.

Lando couldn't help but grin, his heart skipping at the sight of her. “You're telling me. I wasn’t expecting this kind of snowstorm.” He glanced outside. The flakes were falling heavier now, swirling around in the night sky. “Looks like we’re snowed in for a while.”

Y/N laughed. “Great. I hope we’re stocked up on food. I’m not sure I can survive on just wine and Christmas cookies.”

Lando chuckled, holding the door open for her to come inside. "We've got plenty of food. We’re going to be fine. Don’t worry."

“And it looks like it’s just you and me for the next few days,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something more—something he couldn’t quite place.

Lando smiled, trying to act nonchalant, but his pulse quickened. “I guess so. Should be fun,” he replied, glancing around the spacious cabin. The fire was already crackling in the living room, the tree twinkling with Christmas lights, and everything felt so cozy. But it was also... quiet. Too quiet. Just the two of them.

After they had settled in and exchanged pleasantries about the snowstorm, Y/N collapsed onto the couch, kicking off her boots and letting out a sigh of relief. “This place is amazing, Lando. I could live here.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Lando replied, smiling at her. “It’s the perfect place to get away.”

They exchanged a few casual words, laughing at some of the jokes their friends had sent through text. But as the night grew darker and the storm raged outside, they were left alone in the quiet of the cabin, with only the sound of the fire and the wind howling through the trees.

Y/N stretched out, glancing at Lando from across the room. “So, what now? We’ve got the whole place to ourselves. What should we do?”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with mischievous intent. “Well, we could play a game.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A game? Like Monopoly or something?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though his mind was already racing with possibilities. “Or something a little more... interesting.”

Her curiosity piqued, Y/N leaned forward. “What did you have in mind?”

Lando’s lips curved into a sly grin. “How about strip poker?”

Y/N blinked, clearly taken aback. “Strip poker? Really?”

Lando chuckled, knowing how she might react. He’d teased her with ideas like this before, but never seriously. Tonight, however, it felt like the perfect opportunity to let the playful tension between them simmer into something more. “What? You scared?” he asked, his voice dipping into a low, teasing tone.

She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly thinking it over. “Scared? Of you? Please.” Y/N shot him a teasing grin of her own. “You sure you want to risk it?”

“I’m not scared. Are you?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Fine. Let’s do it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lando grinned, gathering the cards. He wasn’t entirely sure how they got to this point, but there was no turning back now. He could already feel the playful, flirty energy between them, and it only made him want to tease her more. The game started innocently enough. They each took turns dealing the cards, laughing as they made their moves. At first, it felt just like any other game—light, easy, and full of jokes.

But as they started shedding clothes, something shifted. Lando couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes lingered on him just a little too long, how her lips curled into a teasing smile whenever he lost a round. And she was good—really good. Each time she won a hand, she would make a show of pulling off a layer of clothing, the way her body moved making Lando’s pulse spike in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

When Y/N was down to her tank top and leggings, she shot him a look. “Looks like I’m winning, Lando. Are you sure you’re alright with that?”

Lando could barely keep his eyes off of her. The way she smiled, the way she moved... everything about her made his heart race. “I’m just getting warmed up,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You should be worried.”

“Worried?” She let out a soft, melodic laugh, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I’m not the one losing clothes here.”

Lando grinned, trying to shake off the growing heat that he felt every time she looked at him. He could tell by the way she kept glancing at him that she was feeling the tension too. This wasn’t just a game anymore—it had become something else, something more dangerous, and he couldn’t seem to pull back. “It’s not over yet,” he said, his voice low.

Y/N shrugged, her lips curling up into a smile. “I’m not sure you can come back from this, but we’ll see.”

Finally, it was down to the last round. Both of them were now only in their underwear, the cards spread out between them on the floor. The fire crackled in the background, the only sound in the room except for their breathing.

“So,” Y/N said, her voice low, “you ready to lose?”

Lando swallowed hard. “Not yet,” he replied, trying to sound confident, though his mind was racing. The last layer of clothing between them felt like a barrier he couldn’t cross, but the tension was thick enough to slice with a knife.

They played their final hands, both of them taking risks, both of them desperately trying not to give in. And in the end, it was Y/N who won. She threw down her cards with a laugh, eyes sparkling.

“Well, looks like you’re the one who’s going to lose this time,” she said smugly, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Lando stared at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just getting started.” Without another word, he closed the gap between them, pulling her into a kiss that was nothing like the playful teasing they had shared moments before. This kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with the intensity of everything that had been building up between them for months.

Y/N froze for a second, surprised by the suddenness of it, but then she melted into him, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The heat from the fire seemed to intensify as they deepened the kiss, their bodies pressed close together, the game now forgotten.

When they finally pulled apart, their faces flushed with more than just the warmth of the fire, Lando whispered, “I think I lost... but in the best possible way.”

Y/N’s smile softened as she traced the line of his jaw with her finger. “I think we both won,” she said quietly.

They decided to keep playing, though the silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unfinished moments. Lando could feel it in the way Y/N’s breath hitched slightly when he leaned closer, and in the way her fingers trembled just enough to be noticeable as she reached for another card.

This is it, he thought, his pulse quickening. One more round. One more chance to either lose everything or finally claim what he’d been wanting for so long.

“Your move,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady, her eyes locked on his. Her lips curved into a faint smile, teasing but laced with something deeper—something that sent a shiver down his spine.

Lando swallowed hard, his fingers brushing against the edge of the deck. He could feel the heat radiating off her, even from across the makeshift table they’d created on the floor. Her bra hugged her skin, the straps resting delicately on her shoulders, drawing his attention and making it impossible to focus on anything else. His own boxers felt like a damn prison at this point, constricting every thought and movement.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, her voice light but pointed.

He blinked, caught off guard, and forced a laugh. “Am I?”

Y/N tilted her head, her grin widening. “A little. You might want to focus. If you lose again, there won’t be much left to look at.”

Her words were playful, but there was an edge to them, a challenge that made his chest tighten. Focus, Lando, he told himself. But no matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept drifting back to her. To the way her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulder, the way her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the fire and whatever tension was simmering between them.

“I’m focused,” he said, trying to sound confident even though his heart was pounding. “Just... taking my time.”

“Mmhmm,” she replied, clearly unconvinced. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the ground, and the movement drew his attention to the way her bra shifted, revealing just a hint of skin.

God, he thought, how is she doing this to me?

He picked up his cards, his fingers trembling slightly as he flipped them over. Two pairs. Not bad, but not great. He glanced at Y/N’s hand, trying to gauge her expression, but she was too good. Her face was calm, composed, her eyes still locked on his with that same spark of mischief.

“Well?” she asked after a beat of tense silence. “Are you going to fold, or are you in this to the end?”

Lando hesitated, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the knowledge that this wasn’t just a game anymore. It was something more, something that had been building between them for months. And now, here they were, alone in this cabin, stripped down to the bare minimum, their bodies close enough to touch.

If I fold, he thought, then it’s over. And if I don’t...

He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed.

“I’m in,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his decision. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She laid down her cards, and Lando’s stomach dropped. Three jacks. He couldn’t believe it. She’d beaten him again.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re good at this.”

Y/N laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made his chest ache. “Told you you should’ve folded.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, forcing a grin. “Guess I’ll have to live with the consequences.”

He started to move, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, but Y/N stopped him with a single word.

“Wait.”

Lando froze, his hand hovering above his hips. “What?”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite place. “Let’s make this interesting.”

His pulse quickened. “Interesting how?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pushed herself up onto her knees, bridging the gap between them until she was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

“Take them off,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “But not yet. Just... stay like that.”

Lando’s throat went dry. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, in his chest, everywhere. “Like what?”

Y/N’s gaze flicked downward, lingering for a moment before returning to his face. “Tease me first. Make me wait.”

The request hung in the air between them, heavy and charged. Lando could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, the blood rushing through his veins. He wanted to protest, to say something clever or sarcastic, but the way she was looking at him—like she was daring him, testing him—made it impossible to think of anything else.

“You’re serious?” he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Very.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The fire crackled softly behind them, the storm outside howling louder now, as if urging them to act. Lando could feel the weight of her gaze, the way it seemed to pierce through him, stripping away any pretense of control.

And then, without thinking, he reached for the hem of his boxers, tugging it upward just enough to reveal the barest hint of skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as she watched him. “More,” she said, her voice low and husky.

Lando swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he pulled the fabric up another inch. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, in his chest, everywhere. “Is this what you wanted?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned closer, her fingers brushing against his thigh. “Almost,” she said, her voice a sultry purr. “But not quite.”

Lando’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel the heat of her hand on his skin, the sensation sending sparks of electricity coursing through his body. “What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

She smiled, slow and deliberate, her eyes locking on his. “Show me,” she said simply. “Show me how much you want this.”

Lando’s fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, his breath hitching as he hesitated for just a moment. His eyes remained locked on Y/N’s, her gaze steady and unyielding, daring him to go further. The firelight danced across her face, casting shadows that made her look even more alluring, more demanding. He couldn’t resist—not anymore.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid his boxers down, revealing himself completely to her. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with an electric tension that made his skin prickle. He was fully exposed now, every inch of him on display, and yet it didn’t feel humiliating or uncomfortable. Instead, it felt... thrilling. Dangerous.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took in the sight of him, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She was clearly caught off guard, though whether by surprise or arousal, Lando couldn’t tell. What he did know, though, was that her reaction only fueled his own desire. He was playing with fire, and he wasn’t about to back down.

“Satisfied?” he asked, his voice low and rough, practically dripping with challenge. The corner of his mouth lifted into a sly grin as he watched her squirm under his gaze.

Y/N blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I... I don’t think so,” she stammered, her voice uncharacteristically breathless. She leaned back on her hands, her legs crossed at the ankles, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, the way her eyes kept darting to him and then away, gave her away.

Lando chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to shift the dynamic between them. “Come on, Y/N,” he said, his tone teasing. “You can’t expect me to believe you’re not impressed.”

She rolled her eyes, though the effect was ruined by the flush that spread across her neck. “Impressed? By what? Your poker skills? Because those definitely left something to be desired.”

He smirked, knowing she was just trying to play it cool. “Oh, I see. So you’re still mad that I lost. Fine. Maybe we should play another round. Even the odds.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting from playful to wary in an instant. “Another round? Really? You’re not exactly... dressed for the occasion.”

Lando leaned back, stretching casually, his movements slow and deliberate. “Who says I need clothes to play? Besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s not like you’re shy about winning.”

Her breath caught again, and this time she didn’t try to hide it. The heat in the room had reached an almost unbearable level, and it wasn’t just from the fire. With only her underwear on, every subtle movement was impossible to ignore. Lando’s eyes flicked to the way her pulse jumped at the base of her throat, the way her legs shifted restlessly against the floor as if she was trying to maintain control. She was fighting it, resisting the pull between them, but he could see the cracks forming in her resolve. And honestly? He loved watching her struggle.

“Alright,” she said finally, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “But this is your last chance. Don’t blame me if you lose everything.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando replied, his grin widening. “I’m used to betting big.”

They shuffled the cards once more, their fingers brushing more often than necessary. Each touch sent a jolt of anticipation through Lando, making him wonder if Y/N was feeling it too. The game began, but it was hard to focus with the way she kept stealing glances at him, her eyes lingering just a little too long on places they shouldn’t.

The first few rounds were tense, both of them holding their cards close to their chests. Lando tried to keep his confidence up, but the way Y/N’s breathing quickened with each passing moment made it difficult. She was getting flustered, clearly struggling to concentrate, and it only made him tease her more.

“You alright over there?” he asked after a particularly long pause, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Need a break? A glass of water, maybe?”

Y/N glared at him, though the effect was softened by the blush spreading across her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she snapped, though her voice wavered slightly. “Just... focusing.”

Lando chuckled, leaning closer until their knees nearly touched. “Focusing on what? The rules of the game, or... other things?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes flickering to his before darting away. “Maybe both,” she admitted quietly, her cheeks burning brighter.

It was the admission Lando had been waiting for. Her honesty, her vulnerability, it was all he needed to see that she was just as affected by this as he was. And with that realization, his confidence surged.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice smooth and assured. “Why don’t we make it a little more interesting?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her bravado returning in full force. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that?”

Lando leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “How about... a forfeit? For every round you win, I have to do whatever you say. And for every round I win...” He paused, giving her a moment to process. “You have to do whatever I say.”

Her breath caught again, and this time she didn’t try to hide it. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desire. She knew this was dangerous territory, but the way Lando’s eyes burned with mischief and intent was impossible to ignore.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lando grinned, his heart racing as he dealt the next hand. This was it. This was where the real game began.

The cards were shuffled again, the deck slick between their fingers as they settled into another round. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the cabin. The storm outside raged on, but inside, it was warm and intimate, the air thick with unspoken promises.

Lando leaned back slightly, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “Your move,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. There was a spark in his gaze that made her stomach flutter—a mix of challenge and something deeper she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N met his stare, her lips curling into a small smile. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the stakes higher than ever before. Every movement, every word, seemed to carry more meaning than it should. She shifted slightly, her legs brushing against his under the makeshift poker table, and Lando’s breath hitched just barely.

She played her cards carefully, her mind working overtime to anticipate his moves. But even as she focused on the game, she couldn’t ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the room. His knee grazed hers again, deliberately this time, and she shivered despite herself.

“Bold play,” Lando murmured as he laid down his hand, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “But I think I’ve got you beat.”

Y/N glanced at his cards, her heart sinking slightly as she realized he was right. She bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment, but Lando was already leaning forward, his expression teasing yet somehow serious.

“Looks like you owe me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. She knew whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be simple, and part of her reveled in the idea of giving him control.

Lando paused for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering against her cheek. “Take off your bra,” he said simply, his tone light but his eyes burning with intent.

Y/N froze for a second, her breath catching in her throat. The request was direct, unexpected, and yet… not entirely unwelcome. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a confidence she wasn’t sure she truly felt.

“That all?” she teased, her voice cool despite the way her pulse quickened.

Lando chuckled, low and deep, the sound sending a thrill through her. “For now,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. He was enjoying this, she realized—enjoying the way she fought to maintain her composure, the way she challenged him even as she gave in.

Y/N hesitated for just a moment longer, then reached behind her back. The clasp of her bra came undone easily, and she slid the straps down her arms, letting the fabric pool at her waist. She kept her posture relaxed, her shoulders straight, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected her.

Lando’s gaze dropped to her chest, his expression softening for a moment before he forced himself to meet her eyes again. “Gorgeous,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Y/N replied, her tone light as she tried to keep things playful. But there was an edge to her words, a hint of something raw and unspoken that made Lando’s breath hitch.

They sat like that for a moment, the tension between them palpable, the room feeling smaller with each passing second. Then Lando spoke again, his voice low and rough. “Another round?”

Y/N nodded, her heart racing as she picked up the cards. This time, there was no mistaking the electricity between them, no pretending that this was just a game. It was something more, something dangerous and thrilling, and she was all in.

The next few rounds passed in a blur. They teased each other mercilessly, their banter sharpening with every hand. But there was an underlying current of desire now, an awareness of how close they were, how little separated them except for the thin layer of her underwear and the rules they’d set.

Lando won again, his grin widening as he laid down his cards. “Looks like I get to collect my prize,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief.

Y/N’s breath caught as she realized what that meant. “And what exactly is your prize?” she asked, her voice steady despite the heat pooling in her lower belly.

Lando leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I want to taste you.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with meaning. Y/N felt her heartbeat accelerate, her skin tingling in response to his proximity. She should have said no, should have put a stop to this before it went any further. But the truth was, she didn’t want to. Not with him. Not when he looked at her like that, with such fierce intensity it stole her breath.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said finally, her voice trembling just slightly. She was playing with fire, she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Lando’s grin widened, and he slid his hand along her thigh, his touch warm and insistent. “I want to make you come,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “with my tongue.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her entire body flooding with heat at his words. She could feel the flush spreading across her chest, her nipples tightening in response to his nearness. She wanted to say yes, wanted to give in to the hunger that had been building inside her since the moment they’d first kissed. But part of her hesitated, afraid of what it meant, afraid of how far this would go.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, fleeting kiss. “Never been more sure of anything,” he murmured against her lips.

Then, without waiting for her reply, he stood and pulled her to her feet. In one swift motion, he guided her backward until she was sitting on the edge of the couch, her legs dangling over the side. He knelt in front of her, his hands resting on her thighs, his gaze locked on hers.

Y/N’s breath hitched as Lando’s hands slid up her thighs, his touch warm and deliberate. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared down at him. His eyes were intense, almost predatory, and the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “But if you don’t…”

If I don’t? Her mind raced, torn between the sudden rush of desire and the lingering caution that held her back. But then she met his gaze—those deep, dark eyes that seemed to see straight through her. There was no hesitation there, no doubt. Just pure, unfiltered need, and it was contagious.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Lando’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, and then he was moving, his hands sliding beneath her thighs as he gently urged them apart. Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as he knelt lower, his face now level with her aching core. The firelight danced across his features, casting shadows that made him look both dangerous and irresistible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration as his fingers grazed the edge of her underwear. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her at his words. His honesty was intoxicating, and it made her want to surrender completely. “Show me,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. “Show me how much you want this.”

His answer was immediate. In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties and pulled them aside, exposing her to the cool air again. Y/N gasped, her body tensing as his breath ghosted over her sensitive skin. Then, without warning, his mouth was on her, his tongue darting out to taste her.

“Oh!” The sound escaped her before she could stop it, a mix of surprise and pleasure that left her head spinning. Lando chuckled softly against her, the vibration sending another wave of sensation rippling through her. He teased her with his tongue, flicking and circling in lazy patterns that had her gripping the edge of the couch for support.

“Lando…” she moaned, her hips twitching as she tried to push herself closer to him. But he wasn’t done teasing her yet. His hands gripped her thighs tighter, holding her steady as he explored every inch of her with his mouth. His tongue delved deeper, curling and pressing in ways that made it impossible for her to think clearly.

Her breath came in short, jagged bursts, each one louder than the last. The fire crackled behind her, its warmth spreading through her body along with the overwhelming sensations Lando was stirring within her. He’s so good at this, she thought dimly, her mind fogging over with pleasure. So in control.

But just when she thought she might actually pass out from the intensity of it all, Lando changed his pace. Instead of the slow, deliberate movements that had been driving her wild, he began to move faster, his tongue darting in and out of her in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. His teeth grazed lightly against her clit as he sucked, creating a new kind of friction that had her arching her back and crying out his name.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her words incoherent as her orgasm built and built inside her. Lando didn’t let up, not for a second. If anything, he intensified his efforts, his fingers brushing against her folds as his mouth worked furiously. The dual stimulation was too much—too perfect—and within moments, she was shattered.

“LAN-DO!” Her scream filled the cabin as her hips bucked against his face, her entire body trembling with the force of her release. It felt like everything inside her was exploding, over and over, until she was nothing but a quivering mess. Lando rode out her climax with ease, his mouth never leaving her as he licked and kissed until every last bit of tension had drained from her body.

When she finally collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and her legs still shaking, Lando pulled away slowly, his lips wet and his expression smug. “Better than winning at poker?” he asked with a grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Y/N glared at him, though her smile gave her away. “Don’t get cocky,” she panted, batting his hand away playfully.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, standing and towering over her. “Round one was just the beginning.”

Before she could respond, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto his lap, positioning her so that she was straddling him. His erection pressed firmly against her core, already demanding attention, and Y/N couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice low and husky as he nipped at her earlobe.

Y/N’s response was instant. She ground her hips against him, relishing the way his breath hitched and his grip tightened on her waist. “Show me,” she whispered, her voice laced with challenge. “Show me what else you’ve got.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand on her back and the other guiding himself, he lined his length up with her entrance. Y/N braced herself, her heart racing as she felt the blunt pressure of his tip against her slick folds. Then, with a deep groan, he pushed forward, filling her in one smooth thrust.

“Fuck,” she gasped, throwing her head back as the fullness hit her all at once. It was overwhelming—his size, his strength, the way he claimed her so utterly. She’d never felt anything like it, and the realization only heightened her arousal.

“You feel so good,” Lando growled, his voice rough with need as he pulled back and thrust into her again. “God, Y/N, you’re so tight.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he set a steady rhythm. Each stroke was deliberate, hitting all the right spots and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins. The firelight flickered across their entwined bodies, casting a golden glow that made everything seem even more intimate.

“Harder,” she demanded, her voice breaking as she shifted her hips to meet his thrusts. “Please, Lando. Harder.”

He didn’t hesitate. With a growl of approval, he grabbed her hips and drove into her with renewed vigor. The slap of skin against skin echoed in the quiet cabin, mixing with their ragged breaths and the occasional moan that slipped past her lips. Y/N clung to him, her body writhing as she surrendered to the sensation.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried out, her voice rising with each thrust. Lando buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he fucked her with relentless determination. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his cock—and it was too much. Too perfect.

“I’m going to come again,” she warned, her voice trembling as her orgasm began to build once more. “Lando, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a raw, primal demand. “Let go, Y/N. Let me feel you come around me.”

Those words were her undoing. With a cry that echoed through the cabin, she threw her head back and shattered around him. Her inner muscles clenched tightly around his cock as her orgasm tore through her, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Lando’s thrusts slowed as he watched her fall apart in his arms, his own release nearing. He buried his face in her neck, whispering sweet, frantic promises as he continued to move inside her. And then, with a final, desperate thrust, he came undone.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained as he spilled deep inside her. His whole body shuddered as he emptied himself into her, the sensation of being so intimately connected to her overwhelming.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies locked together as they caught their breath. Y/N pressed her forehead against his, her heart still racing as she tried to process everything that had just happened.

Lando and Y/N remained intertwined, their bodies still twitching with the aftershocks of their shared climax. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm amber glow over them as they clung to each other, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between their lips.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were their heartbeats slowing to a steady rhythm and the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace. The storm outside seemed distant now, its fury muted by the cocoon of warmth and intimacy they’d created within the cabin.

Y/N shifted slightly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across Lando’s back. Her skin was still flushed, her body languid with satisfaction, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t believe how deeply she had let herself go—how completely she had surrendered to him. And yet, it felt right. It felt inevitable.

What is this? she wondered, her thoughts a jumbled mess of emotions. What are we doing?

Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes searching hers. His expression was soft, almost reverent, as if he were trying to drink in every detail of her face. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Just... catching my breath.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Same here.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer before Y/N broke the silence again. “You’re really bad at poker, you know that?” she teased, her tone light despite the heat still simmering between them.

Lando grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that playful way of his. “I thought I was pretty good at bluffing. Guess not.”

“You weren’t bluffing when you said you’d do anything to win, though,” she said, her voice dropping slightly as she remembered the intensity of his actions.

His grin faded, replaced by something far more serious. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I wasn’t.”

The air between them shifted, the playful tension giving way to something heavier. Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart racing as his words sank in. He wasn’t just talking about the game. He was talking about her.

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “You mean it?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” He shifted closer, his hand brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her pulse quicken. His thumb traced her skin, his touch warm despite the chill lingering in the air. “You’re worth more than winning a game, Y/N. You’re worth everything.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs. She wanted to say something—to tell him how much his words meant to her—but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment as his warmth enveloped her. For months, she’d ignored the flickers of possibility between them, convincing herself it was all in her head. But now, there was no hiding from it.

When she opened her eyes again, she found him watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. “Lando,” she started, her voice trembling slightly.

But he cut her off with a kiss, soft and lingering, as if he were savoring the taste of her. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing as they breathed each other in.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. His lips curved into a soft smile, the teasing edge of his usual grin still there, but gentler now. “Just… let it happen.”

And for once, she did. She closed the distance between them, leaning into the warmth of his touch and the quiet certainty in his eyes. When their lips met, it was soft, tentative, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid.

The fire crackled in the background, but all she could feel was him—his warmth, his presence, and the promise held in the quiet stillness of the cabin.

Lando shifted again, rolling onto his back but keeping her close. Y/N curled up beside him, resting her head on his chest as his arm wrapped around her, pulling her even tighter against him. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear was oddly comforting, grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

“So,” she said after a while, breaking the silence with a tone that was equal parts playful and curious. “What happens now?”

Lando chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, lifting her head to look at him, “we can’t exactly keep playing strip poker. Not without clothes, anyway.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying her teasing. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean we’re out of games.”

Her eyebrow arched in question. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“How about truth or dare?” he suggested, his voice dripping with mischief.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Seriously? You want to play truth or dare? After all that?”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin widening. “It’s a classic. And who knows? Maybe we’ll learn something new about each other.”

She considered his proposal for a moment, her curiosity piqued. “Alright,” she said finally, sitting up slightly so she could look at him. “Let’s do it. But fair warning—I don’t hold back.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, his tone confident. “Your move.”

She bit her lip, thinking for a moment before deciding. “Truth.”

Lando’s grin turned sly. “Alright... what’s the last thing you Googled?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the simplicity of his question. “Really? That’s your big question?”

“Yep,” he said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Spill.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I Googled the best places to visit in Switzerland.”

“Huh,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “Planning a solo trip?”

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if there was anywhere else worth checking out while we’re here.”

Lando’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Well, if you’re looking for recommendations, I’m your guy.”

“Good to know,” she said, tilting her head as she studied him. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Her grin widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright... I dare you to kiss me until I forget my own name.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he processed her challenge. Before he could respond, she slid her hand along his jaw, guiding his face toward hers. Her lips met his in a kiss that was slower, deeper than before—a kiss that left no room for doubt about how much she wanted him.

He groaned softly into her mouth, his hands gripping her waist as he deepened the kiss. Every movement, every touch, seemed deliberate, as if he were etching the memory of this moment into his very soul.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing heavy as she looked up at him. “Okay,” she said breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think you win this round.”

Lando chuckled, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. “Careful,” he warned, his tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good,” she said, her smile turning wicked. “Because I like it hot.”

Before he could respond, she kissed him again, her hands sliding down to his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him. The fire roared behind them, the storm raged outside, but all that mattered was the connection they shared—a connection that was growing stronger with every passing moment.

They stayed like that for a while, lost in each other, the world beyond the cabin fading into obscurity. And as the night wore on, they continued to explore the depths of their desire, pushing boundaries and discovering new ways to bring each other pleasure.

It was a night unlike any other, a night that would stay with them long after the snow had melted and the fire had burned out. A night that marked the beginning of something extraordinary—something that neither of them could have predicted but that felt utterly, undeniably right.

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timetravelingslytherinincamelot · 2 years ago

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Family Room - Game Room Game room - large mediterranean loft-style carpeted game room idea with beige walls, no fireplace and no tv

#master garden #balcony #sater design collection #luxury #fire place

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desourire · 2 years ago

Photo

Transitional Basement - Walk Out Basement - large transitional walk-out carpeted basement idea with green walls, a ribbon fireplace and a tile fireplace

#fire place #open floor plan #minneapolis #luxury home #basement

0 notes

harmoonix · 8 months ago

Text

ℝ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕓𝕠𝕨

"Love yourself, whatever makes you different, and use it to

make you stand out."

Astrology Observations

~ I can see a rainbow

In your tears as the sun comes out ~

🌈 - Sun aspecting the ascendant natives will always have an inner "shine" inside them, their energy is so warm and kind

🌈 - Midheaven at 5°, 17°, 29° (In Leo too) gets easily liked since childhood, you know that child everyone likes, they can also be talented from young

🌈 - Venus in Earth Signs is possible the most secure Venus ever as they always have everything planned and in order but also a luxurious style

🌈 - Sun or Moon in the 11th house make friendships for life the same if you have 1st house lord in the 11th house!

🌈 - Mars in the 11th house or Mars in Aquarius can sacrifice for their friends, people dear to them, Mars here is always thinking at the others

🌈 - Moon in the 3rd house natives can tied themselves to others emotionally, Moon here can be very social but also shy in the same time (depends on the aspects)

🌈 - The RISING SIGN in your Aura Asteroid (1488) PERSONA CHART can show your overall aura you send to others/first impression

Fire Rising -> Fierce, wild, brave, bold, confident, stubborn, loud

Earth Rising -> Cold, stylish, patient, chill, respectable, natural,

Water Rising -> Nurturing, with the head in the clouds, sensitive, fresh, sensual

Air Rising -> Invincible, mentally strong, communicative, friendly, catchy

🌈 - Sun combined with fire Degrees 1°, 13°, 25°, 5°, 17°, 29°, 9°, 21° will always the the coolest people, this fire energy gives them popularity and they're well liked by others

──────────────────────────────

I know you, you're a special one

Some see crazy where I see love

──────────────────────────────

🌈 - Natives with Uranus aspecting Sun/Ascendant or Midheaven had crazy/innovative ideas about the world since they were young

🌈 - South Node aspecting Sun or Moon will give you an attachment energy, like getting attached by literally anything, places, people, stories, events etc

🌈 - Aquarius Rising or at Rising at 11°, 23° is known for being humanitarian! Standing for people's rights

🌈 - Eros (433) in Sagittarius/9H or Eros at 9°, 21° degrees. Literally the archer archetype, their arrow will strike your heart and you can fall in love with their exotic nature

🌈 - Lilith in Capricorn/aspecting Saturn will not let anybody to bring them down, because karma always returns. Sooner or later

🌈 - Air Moons/Air Mercuries will have the best music style, wanna have a party? Ask them for music ideas 💡

🌈 - Mercury in the 7H natives are heavenly blessed, this placement will give you lots of closure and communication with your spouse

🌈 - Mars aspecting Uranus natives need lots of movement, they're explosive type of people, they have a unique sense of rebellion

🌈 - Sun aspecting Neptune natives can be the kindest people in the room, sadly sometimes they tend to get ignored by others that's why you need to find good people around you

──────────────────────────────

You fall so low but shoot so high

Big dreamers shoot for open sky

──────────────────────────────

🌈 - Pluto/Mars in your 1st house will change you so much during life, they're both very changing and unexpected when it comes to your life path

🌈 - Lilith in Leo / 5H / in Leo Degrees 5°, 17° 29° have their special charm, Lilith finds herself very creative and inspirational here

🌈 - Some "mini - observations" about Lilith (h12 or h13) aspecting the ascendant ( all aspects/including minor ones)

People will get attracted by your persona

People can judge you for who you are (don't mind them)

People can be curious about your past

You can attract manipulators/toxic people/

You can be confused about your sexual desires

🌈 - Lilith in Aquarius/ 11H / at 11°, 23° is when Lilith finds about all the things that were hidden from her and wants to start something new, wants something unique, wants something different

🌈 - Lilith in Gemini / 3H / at 3°. 15°. 27° degrees have a really sexual/sensual voice let's not lie here, they're openly communicative and can sense what people are feeling without them telling that/ Some people say Lilith is exalted in Gemini but I'm not really sure!!

🌈 - When Moon is aspecting Mercury you find these natives you get easily along with, like you share the same things together with them and that's what makes you special

🌈 - Jupiter aspecting Moon is a very deep placement spiritually, like they can understand things not that not everybody can and their open minded persons can open new doors for them in life

🌈 - I would love to have Moon in the 5H because is a very artistical, creative, lovely place for the Moon to be in. Moon is actually full of life here, and people with those placements are blessed!🩵

🌈 - Moon in the 10H is not far away from being creative as well! But here they put in practice their creativity with their work and their environment!

🌈 - Asteroid Aphrodite (1388) being retrograde in your chart indicates healing beauty/self beauty, is actually not as bad as you may think, Lady Aphrodite is not that harsh here!

I can see a rainbow

In your tears as the sun comes out

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

🌈 - I heard that when Vertex aspects your Sun you're favored by the men in your life and when aspects the Moon you're favored by the women in your life

🌈 - My asteroid amor in Pisces at 0° is crying right now because every time there is an love asteroid mine has to be around 0° - 5° degrees axis and not aspecting anything 😍/😭/🤡 (Are you joking to me... is in the 2H as well I hate asteroids in this house)

🌈 - Anyways you guys, having amor (1221) in Gemini or 3rd house will mske you to crush for multiple people at once and attracting more love interests

🌈 - Amor in Capricorn or 10H will make you to attract responsible/respectul/determinated partners, some of them can have a reputation (10H energy)

🌈 - Being born with 11th house placements/Stellium can be truly a gift because is the house of the community and desires, you are meant to find your community of people

🌈 - Natives with major 4H placements can have a strong connection with their family/ancestors/relatives and even at raising their own family

🌈 - Sun in Taurus/2H and Sun at 2° 14° 26° degrees are easily liked by people, they have a very caring and kind energy, they are the symbol of peace

🌈 - Sun in Gemini/3rd or Sun at 3°, 15° 27° degrees are like a social butterfly, they're funny, they have a very charismatic energy, they are the cherry on the cake literally

🌈 - Can we talk about Saturn/Neptune in the 6H/12H can drain natives like subconsciously and spiritually?? Like people can steal your energy and mood/even happiness at times. Take care

🌈 - Aries Mars/Venus/Saturn, have a bit of spiciness in them. One thing about them is that they'll love to catch people's attention and most times it works

🌈 - Some "Juno Observations" and things about your spouse

Juno in Leo/5H natives probably will have a spouse who will cherish them, also a spouse who can be proud of them

Juno in the 9H/Sagittarius natives will have that romantic travel thingy with their spouses

Juno in Earth Signs can get married to a very hardworking spouse, that spouse that's always busy with work

Juno in Pisces/12H is so magical, they can have that intense spiritual energy with their spouses

Juno in Scorpio/8H can have very private and secretive relationships, they don't want people to know about these

Juno in Aquarius/11H can date/marry someone from their friends cycle like kind of friends to lovers thing

Juno in the 6H can have a very blessed marriage/relationship because their spouses can be their source of happiness

🌈 - Something underrated about Sagittarius Placements is their INTUITION. They can possess a very strong intuition and clever mind to help them during bad situations

I have a friend who's telling me " I may be stubborn as a TAURUS but I have the intuition of a SAG" love that every time.

🌈 - Having Jupiter aspecting your Moons makes you attractively kind. So basically your kindness can be attractive to others

🌈 - Saturn in the 7H/Saturn in Libra or Saturn at 7° 19° degrees have a karmic love attached to them. They're destined to marry someone karmic as well

🌈 - Chiron in Earth Sings like Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, the wounds can be healed using nature's help. just go out and embrace the nature you can heal that way, mother nature is calling for you

──────────────────────────────

I am here and I see your pain

Through the storms, through the clouds, the rain

──────────────────────────────

🌈 - Chiron in Water Signs like Pisces, Scorpio and Cancer, the wounds can be healed with understanding your emotions and inner child. But also the sea or ocean. Can be very dear to you and may heal you or relax you

🌈 - Chiron in Air Signs like Gemini, Aquarius and and Libra talks about understanding who you really are because from all Chiron signs these they deal with personality or identity wounds is important to find who you really are inside

🌈 - Chiron in Fire Signs like Aries, Sagittarius or Leo is to never let people steal your spark, or things that make you happy, be as you want or wish. Be wild like the jungle and never ever stop believing in what makes you happy

🌈 - When Moon finds herself in Earth Signs she may act more "motherly" or more "caring" this is giving a lot of Demeter vibes from Greek mythology

🌈 - Moon in the 9h or at 9° 21° degrees is when the moon finds herself being very creative/happy/lucky and even justice. You are giving Athena from Greek mythology

🌈 - Having Asteroid Vesta (4) aspecting Lilith in harsh aspects. These aspects tell about rights and justice and power of freedom

In square, at some point, you'll be called to full an important spiritual mission that can give meaning to your life

In opposition, you may feel torn between your desires and your need to fulfill a sacred calling that requires sacrifice

In conjunction, you can find sexual exploration to be an uplifting and spiritual inspiring experience

🌈 - If you have a Libra Moon/Moon in the 7H or Moon under Libra Degree 7° 19°. You're an epitome of balance and harmony, at least, that's what people say about these, but the real side of these placements... can be that they can struggle with indecision even though they represent balance, life works in mysterious ways. Remember that Libra is saturnian as well, and if you have those placements yet a chaotic life, it is karmic to find your peace.

🌈 - Your sidereal Moon can tell about your inner personality, remember how some say sidereal chart is the chart of your soul. So if you have a tropical Pisces Moon can you have a Aquarius sidereal Moon

I have a Sidereal Virgo Moon, yet I don't find myself critical as some say about Virgo Moons. I would rather find myself more hardworking and nurturing 🌎

🌈 - Capricorn/10H Moon, it's a place in your chart where your feelings/emotions get exposed to others, so because of these, some people may think youre a cold person when they first meet you

🌈 - Gemini Moon/3H Moon they really love to talk, and for their best these natives need to surround themselves with people who appreciate their talking skills, don't stay with someone who doesn't want to hear about how was your day, instead stay with someone who would love to hear about your day!!

──────────────────────────────

𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

──────────────────────────────

🌈 - It is known for Aquarius Placements to have the power to influence people! It works especially when our world is literally controlled by technology! People can actually follow your lead (I also adoreeee their humanitarian side because they won't settle for less when it comes to the rights/equality)

🌈 - Because I really love the past life themes and I know that if you have South Node aspecting Saturn you can have and you stoll had karmic past lives

🌈 - Jupiter or Mars in fire signs are very intense so full of emotions, sometimes even out of anger, very stubborn energyyy, gets angry fast. Can't handle when people tell them they're wrong

🌈 - Those born with Uranus in the 3H/6H or 12H can predict things that can happen in close future

🌈 - Saturn/Capricorn in your 12H can tell about having more struggles when you're younger and more peace when you're a bit more mature/older

──────────────────────────────

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐰

𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭

──────────────────────────────

🌈 - I know natives with Leo Moon who have siblings who overshadow them, so in a way, if you have Leo Moon and siblings, you can also struggle with family issues! I also know plenty of Leo Moons that have parents who prefer their siblings instead. Which is very sad because neither of the parents should do differences between their kids

🌈 - Chiron in your 11H or in Aquarius can talk about finding the good people to be your friends. You really need to find your community of people

🌈 - Uranus in your 8H can talk about a very electrifying and sexual energy! I see this placement so rare in the 8H lol. Definitely unique

🌈 People who follow my account know that it stays for equality for all! 🌈

Enioy the post!!🌈😍 And happy pride month even if this one is a lil' late.

H @ r m o o n I x

1K notes · View notes

sugugasm · 7 months ago

Text

. ༉‧₊ 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄

✧ synopsis : after almost a decade of a healthy marriage, four kids, and a stressful bakery opening, you and toji have learned to take your alone time very seriously.

✧ tags : firefighter! toji + baker! reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, blk fem reader ofc, mentions of alcohol, public sex ?? in the car, mentions of vaginal penetration, cowgirl, pet names like bby, love, pretty, mama bc yall already know etc, excuse any errors. i wrote this in a few different povs at first so — 𝟓.𝟖𝐊 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 smiles as he pulls into his driveway, the familiar cacophony of squeals and thuds greeting him before he’d even opened the door - the kiddos must’ve been riding the after dinner sugar high. cheerfully shaking his head, he braced himself for the chaos and noise that awaited inside your now shared, cozy little place the two of you have grown to call home.

it’d been nearly six years since that fateful summer when you’d quite literally swept into his life like a swirl of sunshine and baked goods. six years of dizzying ups and downs, laughter and tears, the most intense love he’d ever known to face. sometimes it still didn’t feel real, even now - this life you’d built from the spark of simple flirting over sweets n’ crème brulee.

so much had happened in that span of adventures : you, graduating at the top of your culinary class, your desserts and pastries that you’d stressed so hard about being the toast of the competition circuit. toji retiring as lieutenant of the fire department after over a decade of service, not daring to miss out on any more milestones as the two of you started your family. not to mention the whirlwind of wedding plans, and then the magical day itself where you vowed forever to each other in front of family and friends.

then the true blessings had come along, one right after the other - megumi, who was still adjusting to the new family dynamic of it all, but was yet so proud of his father. little rascally rose, a firecracker just like her mama with the same bright eyes and full curls. goofy, tender-hearted kenji who practically worshipped his big brother and sister, wanting nothing more than to mimic their every move and be just like his papa. and finally malachai, the happy surprise baby who seemed to have inherited the best of both his parents’ feisty personalities.

toji wouldn’t trade this beautiful chaos for anything in the world. but he’d be lying if he said the constant juggling act of family life wasn’t difficult - for the both of you. it was rare for you guys to get a real moment alone together, just the two of you. your intimacy had cooled down amidst all the lovely distractions, as had the simple art of conversation beyond trading information about grocery lists and pediatrician appointments.

date nights had become a long forgotten luxury, almost seemingly impossible to coordinate when your trusted babysitters were your siblings with families of their own. but tonight, uncle satoru had stepped up and volunteered his services, giving toji and you a well overdue opportunity to reconnect.

toji unbuckles his seatbelt and exited the truck, tamping down a flutter of nerves. what if the easy rhythm and sizzling chemistry you’d once shared was gone for good? a victim of sleep deprivation and chicken nugget overdoses? what if it was too late to rekindle that spark?

pushing open the front door, he was immediately swamped by a tiny army of squirming, chattering bodies. “papa, papa, papa!” rose seized his hand and tugged insistently. “you gotta’ see the cool fort we built! kenji made it super big this time!”

“we’ll show ya, dad!” kenji crowed, already streaking towards the living room, malachai hot on his heels with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“hold up there, you lil’ tornados,” toji called in vain, being unceremoniously dragged by his giggling daughter into the chaos. every available pillow, cushion, and blanket had been appropriated to create an elaborate tent city surrounded by toys and stuffed animals . . and gojo sat smack in the middle of it all, long legs splayed out as he played some kind of intricate make believe game with the two boys.

“baby, you’re home!” you swept in from the kitchen, wisps of hair escaping your messy bun and face flushed from exertion. you were wearing a cute pink sundress that struck a nostalgic chord in toji’s memory - you’ve had it for years, one of his favorite things to slowly peel off of your shoulders after a night out to be exact. “thank goodness. i was startin’ to think i’d have to call backup.”

you stand on your tippy toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, and just like that, his weariness evaporated as if by magic. your familiar floral scent, your soft warmth, the kids’ laughter surrounding him - this moment of serenipity in the midst of routinely chaos bringing a lump to his throat.

“not a chance,” he rumbled, sliding an arm around your waist. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world.” downy goosebumps erupted down your arms at his words, flustering deeply. awe, his voice still got you going after all this time. good to know. very good to know. “y’all holdin’ down the fort?”

“y’know how it is,” you reply with a gentle squeeze of his hand, watching in fond exasperation as rose ordered poor gojo to lie down so kenji could perform his ‘very important surgery.’ “satoru took his role a lil’ too seriously this time and got lost in their games.”

you stood together watching for a few moments, the kids pausing just long enough to acknowledge toji’s presence again before diving back into their shenanigans. it was all so beautifully vibrant and alive, the little people you created and who brought such joy, such richness and meaning to your lives. but still . . . toji felt the undeniable tug of wanting you all to himself. just for a few hours at least. he wanted to bask in your undivided attention. to remember what it felt like to not share you with anyone else.

you must have picked up on his restlessness, your eyelids drifting shut as he stroked the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “soon as we get back, m’ cravin’ some peace n’ quiet. maybe a hot soak in the tub after all this madness.” your tone was light and casual, but the smoldering undertone was unmistakable.

toji found himself swallowing reflexively as his skin prickled with awakening interest. “is that a promise, mama?” he murmured gruffly, not even trying to hide the roughness in his voice.

you peeked up at him through long lashes, a smile curving on your lips. “mm . . . you should know this by now. m’ a girl who keeps her promises.” burying any further suggestive replies, you cleared your throat and turned to gojo, who’d been buried under a pile of stuffed teddy bears. “alright babies, mama n’ daddy gotta’ go for a bit. gumi’s at a friend’s place, and there’s dinner in the fridge if you guys get hungry — so pretty please be good for your uncle gojo, y’hear?”

a chorus of whines follow after your words, but the kids were quickly distracted again by the siren song of more roughhousing. rose blew toji an exaggerated kiss while kenji and malachai paid both of you absolutely no mind whatsoever, already wrestling in a tangle of small limbs. gojo simply shot you a weary thumbs up from beneath his plush prison, glasses askew and hair wild as toji fought the urge to chuckle, “have fun you two. keep me posted, and please for the love of god - quit knockin’ her up, toji. i’m being attacked by three little rascals and it’s just absolutely absurd,” he jokes.

“i don’t make promises i can’t keep, satoru.”

you fished your purse and sweater from the hall closet while toji hovered close, drinking in every detail of you. suddenly he was struck by the profound urge to pull you in close and just breathe nothing but you, to lose himself in the familiar softness and strength of your embrace. but he restrained himself with an effort. all too soon they’d be able to indulge that craving for closeness, he reminded himself as you linked your fingers through his.

with a final wave to the kids and fond shake of his head at gojo’s predicament, toji guided you to the car. the simple act of opening your door and helping you in was enough to set his pulse racing, anticipation crackling in the air as your fingers tangled briefly together. electric from even the most innocent of contact.

by the time he’d slid behind the wheel, he felt ten years younger, energized by the promise of this evening alone with the woman he loved. as toji pulled out of the driveway, you were already reaching for the radio to cue up one of your old playlists, humming along contentedly as warm twilight spilled through the windows. toji cuts you an affectionate glance and reaches over to squeeze your knee - a brief, cherished moment before the magic began.

he couldn’t wait to see where it all would lead.

“so where we headed, hot stuff?” you asked, eyes sparkling with mischief as she toyed with the ends of her hair. “hopefully somewhere without a soft play area and a kids meal if y’know what i mean.”

toji snorted, distracted for a second by the way the skirt of her sundress rode up her thighs as she shifted in the passenger seat. “nah, no funzones tonight. but i can think of a few things i’d like to play with though.”

his suggestive drawl was rewarded with a scandalized laugh and playful swat to his shoulder. “you’re so gross, babe.” your eyes twinkle with amusement before flickering to the darkening sky outside. “seriously though . . . surprise me? i wanna’ be wooed. s’ been too long since you’ve had the chance to take me out. we used to do it all the time.”

kissing away the pout on your lips and squeezing your knee again, toji grinned crookedly. “i know, baby. tonight will be one to remember - i swear.”

true to his word, he bypassed all the usual dining spots they frequented as a family, instead guiding you to a cozy trattoria tucked away on a quiet cobblestone street you didn’t even know existed. he pulled up in front and turned to gauge your reaction, smile widening at the look of surprise and delight on your lovely face.

“bambolino’s?” you exclaimed, craning your neck to peer through the warmly lit windows. “toji, this place is famous! i swear geto raves about their stuffed shells every time he comes over . . like they’re life changing or something!”

“nothin’s better than your cookin’ so we’ll see. m’ a tough crowd to please.” chuckling, he cut the engine and climbed out to open your door, and you hopped out with a charming little shimmy of your hips, curls bouncing around your shoulders now. toji quite literally had to bite back a groan as images of sweeping you up onto the hood and hiking that dress up around your waist flooded his mind unbidden.

jesus, dude. maybe he felt a little too hot n’ bothered. this was a night to reconnect emotionally, not just physically. ‘keep it together, man,’ he mumbles to himself.

threading your arm through his, you allowed him to lead you to the heavy oak door. “well well, aren’t you just the sweetest.”

toji leaned over to murmur in her ear, voice low and intimate. “like i said . . . a night to remember. and m’ just gettin’ started, lovely.” he felt you shiver and had to quickly resist the urge to press an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind you ear — the spot he knew drove you crazy. but he reined himself in, offering you his arm instead. you slanted him an arch look from beneath your lashes as you took his elbow, well aware of the charged energy in the room. “you’re such smooth talker,” you teased. “but m’ callin’ you out - you gotta’ keep deliverin’ now.”

the inside of the restaurant was every bit as quaint and charming as the exterior, all warm golden lighting and rustic decor like something plucked from a cozy little italian village. your table of choice nestled in a babylon themed area, made for discreet intimacy. along with linen napkins and sparkling wine already waiting along with a single garden rose in a low vase.

as toji held out your chair for you, you leaned up to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “this lovely, t,” you murmured, fingers trailing over the pristine white tablecloth. “really, baby . . . jus’ lovely.”

he hummed, momentarily distracted by the alluring fragrance of your signature perfume mixed with the lingering scent of baked goodies in your hair from a hectic day’s work at the bakery. “you deserve it,” he rumbled once he’d found his voice again. “. . . i know how crazy swamped you been with the kids and workin’ on side projects for the shop. tonight is strictly about you, mama. no responsibilities, no worries. just you n’ me enjoyin’ each other. like we used to do.”

your smile softened at the corners as you regarded him with open adoration. “when did all your charm come back?” you teased gently, though . . that tone was genuine. “feels like we haven’t had a moment alone in ages. hard to remember the last time you wooed me like this.”

“tonight’s special. couldn’t let another moment go by without remindin’ you exactly why you chose to put up with me.”

your expression turned impish once more. “coulda’ fooled me - i seem to recall it was you who was pushin’ lil’ ol’ me away, no?”

he formed his features into his best look of faux offense, tone full of lofty dignity. “can a man not get nervous anymore? you were stunning i was terrified — as megumi would say, your aura was just . . .” beneath the table, you could start to feel him sliding his foot forward to glide his ankle over yours, naughtiness giving him away even before your muffled squeak of surprise. toji just grinned that stupid grin at you innocently, as though not at all aware of the toe he was trailing up the delicate skin of your inner calf, “out of this world, sweetheart.”

you had to clear your throat before replying, voice husky with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “oh shut up. jus’ admit you loved me before you even knew it yet.” but despite the humor, you lashes had lowered invitingly as you let your calves part further, granting him unrestricted access.

his gaze snagged on the glimpse of your skin revealed as his foot inched higher and higher to skim the sensitive crease behind your knee. already, his blood was pounding with renewed interest, awakened by the heady combination of your pheromones and just being within your space. hmph. it was like suddenly the intimate, flickering candles and red wine he'd scoffed at earlier as a cheesy cliche seemed perfectly fitting, matching the frisson of sexual heat enkindling within him.

you spent the first part of dinner treading familiar ground - teasing n’ flirting, punctuated by conversations and easy silences that felt almost novel in your peacefulness these days. there was an ease to it, a bond between you both that couldn’t be so easily broken by the stress of soccer practices, ballet recitals or piles of laundry.

an intimacy beyond the aspects of physical that toji clung to . . . even as his vixen urges stirred elsewhere.

once appetizers had been polished off and the main courses brought out, toji leaned back in his chair and leveled you with a heavy lidded stare. slowly, he scooped up his cloth napkin and tossed it onto the table as though throwing down a gauntlet. your eyebrows rose in polite question even as a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.

“y’know . .” toji began, voice pitched low and rough like buttered rum. “you look absolutely stunning tonight, yn. i couldn’t be more proud of the woman you are n’ i jus’ uh . .” he pauses for a moment. wow, even after six years you still found a way to steal the words right out of his mouth, “i jus’ love you — you’re the mother of my children, my heart, my everyth - ”

your breath caught audibly, lashes fluttering as you struggled not to squirm under the potent weight of his stare. still, you rallied with a sassy arch of one brow. “if we weren’t already married, i’d say you were attempting at proposing to me right now, toji.”

“aye, m’ tryin’ t’be sentimental here, lady,” toji chuckled, the sound impossibly intimate amidst the hushed ambiance of the cozy trattoria. reaching across the table, he traced a feather-light path along your forearm with the very tips of his fingers, feeling the fine hairs there rise in gooseflesh, “y’know i’d marry you a thousand times over.”

the sleek black car purred through the dim streets, a monotonous swish of the windshield wipers being the only sound breaking the heavy silence within. in the passenger seat, you gazed out the rain streaked window, city lights smearing across your face in streaks of red and gold and neon blue. the night had been magical - champagne and oysters at bambolino’s, after that there was slow dancing cheek to cheek to smoky jazz at the club down the street, and last but not least — chocolate lava cake shared and savored at the tiny candle lit dessert boutique. all the romance and luxury toji knew his beautiful wife deserved.

but now, cocooned together in the warm confines of the car, the mood had shifted into something . . . more carnal. not sure how it couldn’t have become carnal with toji’s eyes constantly flicking away from the road to steal glimpses of you. in the dim glow of the dash, he drank in the way your clingy pink dress embraced every mouthwatering curve you had, the deep v neckline offering a tantalizing view of your collarbones. and oh, the silky chestnut curls tumbled over your bare shoulders, toji’s fingers itched to suken into them, to pull her close and breathe in the familiar sweet vanilla of her shampoo as he cruised.

he inhaled subtly, your delicate floral perfume underlaid with the warm, sleep-rumpled scent of your skin filling his head with sense memories. lazy sunlit mornings tangled in egyptian cotton sheets, your hair spilled across the pillow. sweaty afternoons grappling on the living room rug like lovestruck college kids. languid twilight baths with your slippery curves pressed back against his chest. he shifted in his seat as his blood began to simmer.

as if she could read his increasingly lurid thoughts, yn turned to meet his gaze. in the shadows, her eyes glittered like black diamonds, dark and fathomless, brimming with wicked promises. slowly, deliberately, she dragged her pink tongue across her bottom lip, leaving the glossed flesh glistening temptingly. toji swallowed hard.

suddenly, the air of the car felt suffocating, the rain misted air unbearably thick and hot. toji cranked the ac, but it did little to cool his overheated skin. he stared deadahead at the surging blades, trying to ignore the rising pressure in his groin.

without a word, you lifted a hand from your lap and slid it across the center console. toji sucked in a sharp breath as your palm skated up his thigh to rest just south of dangerous territory. even through the crisp fabric of his tailored slacks, her touch burned like a brand. as your nimble fingers began to trace idle whorls and spirals, you notice toji’s hands flex around the steering wheel.

“you better get us home safe, mr. we have kids to feed,” you purred, your dulcet voice flooding the charged air between them. “wouldn’t wanna’ have an accident now, would we?” your tone was pure filthy innuendo.

toji risked a glance sideways and instantly regretted it. you looked like a temptation, the old school femme fatale, all dangerous curves and scarlet lips and come-hither eyes. he could practically hear the harps and horns of the kill bill sirens blaring in his brain as he dragged his gaze forward again, locking it on the taillights winking mockingly through the rain smeared glass.

it would be so easy to pull the car over, to say fuck it to propriety and yank you into his lap. to ruck that sinful dress up around your waist and lose himself in your pussy until the windows were disgustingly fogged. so easy to let the inferno building in his veins consume you both right there in the goddamn car.

but toji prided himself on his discipline, his ironclad restraint. you couldn’t be a firefighter without grit, without the ability to stay focused and clear headed no matter what temptations beckoned. he knew that all too well. so he kept his ass planted firmly in the leather seat, even as his body screamed for more of his wife’s wicked touch.

even if his cock throbbed persistently against his fly, inflamed and aching.

you, however, seemed to have no such compunctions about maintaining composure. heedless of toji’s grip on the wheel, you unbuckled your seatbelt and twisted in your seat to face him. in a move that nearly short circuited his brain, you drew one endless leg up onto the seat, making the hem of your dress ride up to reveal the lacy edge of a sheer white thigh high.

toji’s mouth went dust dry. “what’re you doin’?”

“gettin’ comfortable,” you replied airly, but the devilish quirk of your painted lips gave away the game. slowly, you trailed a fingertip along the inside of your thigh, the back of your hand just barely grazing the tent in toji’s slacks as you did so — making him hiss out a breath between his teeth.

“quit playin’ wit’ me, yeah?”

you hummed, unconcerned, and continued her leisurely exploration, tracing idle patterns on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. “i’d rather you play with somethin’ else — i mean, you said it yourself.”

toji’s foot pressed down on the accelerator as if by it’s own volition, the car surging forward through the fuzzy soft darkness. toji's heart beat in time, a primal drum urging him to get the fuck home, where he could strip his vixen of a wife bare and remind you where teasin’ got you.

remind you how good he could make you burn.

your throaty chuckle broke him from his reverie. he glanced over to see you still caressing your own thighs, a wry twist to your lips. “you’re thinkin’ about fuckin’ me, aren’t you?” you mused casually, as if remarking on the weather. “how bad you wanna’ pull this car over, bend me over the hood n’ fuck me like i know you want to.”

liquid heat rolled down toji’s spine to pool in his groin, his cock jerking ravenously in the confines of his straining zipper. “goddammit,” he bit out, knuckles gone bloodless on the steering wheel.

you bit your lip on a smirk, shaky satisfaction in your exhale. “c’mon, daddy,” you coaxed, voice husky and sex-soaked. “i can feel you thinkin’ about it . . . those big hands spreading me open jus’ f’you?”

toji couldn't choke back his groan, pressure building to a rolling boil in his veins. his whole world narrowed down to the flex of his thighs, the strain of keeping the car on the road, and the siren song of your body, your scent, your dirty fuckin’ mouth.

“i’ve been so wet all night, t . .” you continued blithely, as if remarking on the weather. “since the second you walked in from work.” you reached over to smooth a proprietary hand along his thigh, thumb still skating dangerously close to his crotch. “i jus’ wanted to drop to my knees and worship you with my mouth right then n’ there.”

toji nearly swallowed his tongue, vivid images of your plush lips stretching around his cock flooding his brain. “c’mon, baby . .”

“ — but i was such a good girl,” you singsonged. “i was patient. i kept my hands to myself through dinner, even though all i could think about was how good you’d feel inside me.” your fingers creep higher to graze his zipper, “how deep i could take this big dick in my pretty little cunt.”

“don’t make me stop this car n’ —“

“pull over,” you murmured, voice molten and dark with promise. “anywhere. i don’t give a fuck - jus’ fuck me, toji. please . . s’ been too fuckin’ long.”

your words shot through him like an electric charge, heat searing down his spine to pool gravid and pulsing in his groin. “shit’,” he bit out, dizzy, nearly delirious with the force of his want. “ well, i know better than to argue with you. go ahead n’ tell me where, baby.”

“over there,” you pointed through the smeared windshield at an empty parking lot on the right, a black gulf set back from the glistening street. “that lot. pull in.” nearly shaking with the effort of holding himself in check, toji wrenched the wheel to the right, tires juddering over wet asphalt as he whipped into the vacant lot. the moment he threw the car into park, you were scrambling into his lap, sinuous as a snake, that tight dress rucking up around your hips completely now.

toji groaned gutturally as the heat of you settled over him, the damp crotch of your panties grinding right against his aching cock. you were like a furnace through the thin satin, searing him, branding him. he bucked helplessly under the pressure, too far gone for finesse.

“shit,” panted against the shell of his ear, nipping at the sensitive skin. your little hands scrabbling at his belt, desperate, graceless. “wan’ you s’bad. been drippin’ — it hurts, daddy . .”

toji made a wounded sound as you finally freed his straining erection, wrapping slim fingers around the thick root and pumping once, slowly. you let out a broken moan at the heavy heat of him pulsing in your grip, the way he jerked and kicked against the palm, already leaking from the flushed tip.

“look at you,” you purred, running a thumb through the slippery bead of precum. you brought the digit to your mouth, sucking it clean with a low hum that vibrated straight through him. “mm, so fuckin’ hard f’me.” toji’s hands flew to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight, a drowning man clutching a lifeline. the flimsy lace of your panties was no barrier - he ripped them aside, baring the slick folds of your cunt to the humid air. need pounded behind his eyes, turned his blood to quicksilver, his bones to molten steel.

“i missed you, mama,” he rasped, throat tight, voice scraped raw. “missed you so much.” his calloused hands roam your tummy, waist, and then chest — stopping when his palms grope the full plumpness of your titties, “awe baby . . they’re so heavy. have they gotten bigger?” the casual rubbing is soon interrupted when he pulls them out from their comfortable position in your sundress, your breasts flopping out in the prettiest way.

nipples hard n’ ready to just be absolutely tended to.

“i think so,” you reply, running your hands up and down his chest, “ever since i had rose . . they’ve gotten more n’ more swollen.” it was true. that girl had been your most painful birth ever — and keep in mind, this was coming from a mother of four. your back ached, you felt uncomfortable everywhere, and your tits well . . . let’s just say it felt like carrying around bags of sand attached to your sore chest.

but you’d do it again. anything for your sweet baby girl.

“do they hurt?”

“a little bit,” and on your word, toji leans forward, taking one of your exposed nipples into his mouth as he teased the other with his fingers. you could only moan as he sucked softly, almost as if he were trying to pry somethin’ out of em’, “aah — mmph! s’ sensitive, daddy . . so sensitive.”

with a needy cry, you wasted to time to pull your panties to the side and tap the tip of him against your slit, “put it in, t . . please,” you don’t even wait for his approval to notch the broad head of his cock against your opening as he worked. he didn’t mind - not one bit. if anything, he was more eager than you. you then wrap around him, gently sinking down, sheathing him in tight, and clinging on. his head cracked back against the headrest after letting go of your nipple with a pop! - fireworks exploding behind his eyes as your silky walls enveloped him, gripped him, fluttered sweetly around his aching length like you’d been waiting for his return.

“oh my god,” you whimpered, lip caught harshly between your teeth. you looked nearly pained, brow pinched, lashes fluttering as you fought to adjust to the invasion. after all, it’s been a while. “i missed you stretchin’ me out, daddy . . missed y’re dick s-so much.”

toji panted shallowly through his nose, every tendon in his body pulled bowstring tight as he fought the feral urge to surge up into you, to seize and take and claim. his fingers flexed convulsively on your hips, blunt nails biting into the plump flesh of your ass.

“i know, i know. i feel you mama. m’ so sorry, daddy’s been neglectin’ this pussy, huh? keep makin’ yourself f-feel good,” he encouraged gutturally, thumbs sweeping over the delicate skin of her inner thighs, smearing her arousal into the creases. “mm, tryin’ to take it all i see . . always so eager to make me proud, ain’t ya’?”

with a keening mewl as a reply, you began to move, rocking shallowly, finding a rhythm. your hands braced on his broad shoulders, using the leverage to grind down, to swivel your hips in maddening figure eights. pleasure sparkled up toji’s spine, gathered in his heavy balls, pulling them up tight and throbbing against his body.

“s-shit, yeah,” he hissed, head swimming, drowning in sensation. “that pussy’s fuckin’ good, yn — always so fuckin’ good. ride that dick jus’ like that.”

you made a desperate sound, head lolling on your neck, lush mouth falling open. each drag of your warm walls had his nerve endings sparking, a livewire of ecstasy. he could feel every clench, every ripple of your ass around him, could feel you growing wetter, slicker, easing the way for faster, harder thrusts.

soon enough you were bouncing feverishly in his lap, shameless, transported. your nails bit into his shoulders through his shirt as you slammed yourself down, the wet smack of sticky flesh and her breathless cries fogging the windows. each downstroke punched the breath from his lungs, until he was dizzy with it, drunk on the feel of you, the sweat and sex musk and some dark energy radiating off of you.

“c’mon,” he growled, palming your ass, spreading you open lewdly so he could watch himself disappear into your gleaming folds, over n’ over, creamy n’ noisy. “gonna’ nut on this dick, hm? gonna’ soak daddy with this greedy lil’ cunt? my greedy fuckin’ cunt — all mine, isn’t it? say that shit.”

“y-yess, s’ all yours, d-daddy,” you panted, back arching sharply as his pelvis pressed just right against your swollen clit. that and the feeling of his hardened head nuzzling against your gummy cervix was just enough to — “m’ close . . m’ so close, baby!” he could feel you starting to tighten, starting to talk and pulse around his hammering cock. with a choked off curse, he gripped the globes of your ass and slammed you down, grinding his hips in deep, filthy circles that had your voice breaking on a sob.

“cum on that dick,” he commanded, holding her steady even as she thrashed and writhed, impaled to the root on his steel-hard length. “give it to daddy — m-make a mess on me, nasty fuckin’ slut.”

he punctuated the words with one brutal thrust, and you had no choice but to cum with a ragged wail, clenching down on him so tight he lost his vision. your cunt rippled and gushed, rhythmic waves gracefully and sloppily milking his pulsing cock as ecstasy whited out behind your eyes.

“fuck, fuck, baby, i can’t — m’ bout to cum, m’ cummin’ - aw fuck!” he choked out, and then his own orgasm was crashing through him, a tidal wave of rapture searing through his veins. he spurted long and hard, painting your trembling walls with scorching ropes of cum that had you shuddering through the aftershocks.

for long moments they stayed locked together, panting into the thick air, pulses gradually slowing. finally you shifted with a shuddery exhale, and toji groaned low in his chest as he slipped free of you in a hot gush. she collapsed bonelessly against his chest, sweat cooling on your skin, looking thoroughly debauched.

toji caught your face between his palms, tipped it up to meet her blissed-out gaze. “holy fuck i love you,” he rasped, thumbs sweeping over your tear stained cheeks, “so fuckin’ much, man - fuck.”

“me too . . l-love you too, babe.” you finished, voice a satisfied husk. a slow grin spread over your face, catlike and smug. “i can’t believe you fucked me in a parking lot.”

“you didn’t give me much choice,” he growled playfully, nipping at your jaw once, twice, three times. “my lil’ cum bunny jus’ couldn’t wait till’ we got home.”

you shivered, squirming against the twitch of renewed interest between his legs. “guess we better head back then,” you murmured. “round two in our nice comfy bed sounds pretty perfect right about now.”

toji made a low sound of agreement, already envisioning peeling her out of that sinful dress and worshipping every inch of her properly. “i can make a thirty minute drive a fifteen — that work for you?”

“y’know you didn’t have to ask that.” you clambered off his lap and they hastily rearranged your clothing, giggling like you were being caught by some mall cop patrolling the area. and then, toji reversed, pulled back onto the glistening streets, one hand resting possessively high on your thigh as the lights of the city streaked by.

soon you were pulling into your familiar driveway. toji killed the engine and dashed around to open your door, ever the gentleman as usual even after tiring you and himself out so thoroughly. hand in hand, giddy and eager, you made you way up the front walk, your heels clicking on the wet concrete.

the door swung open on a scene of perfect domestic tranquility. there on the oversized couch lay satoru, sprawled out and snoring softly, the little ones curled up safe and sound on his chest. the sight filling toji’s heart with indescribable warmth.

gingerly, you both crept closer, not wanting to wake your peaceful babies. toji gazed down at their somber faces, so innocent in sleep, and felt his throat tighten with emotion. you then settled against his side and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“we made some damn cute kids,” you whispered with a contented sigh.

“absolutely we did,” toji agreed gruffly. he turned and pressed a kiss to your hair, soft and sweet. “i love our little family so much. and you . . i say it all the time, but god, i love you more than anything, yn. i wouldn’t have them without you.”

you tilted your face up to his, eyes liquid and luminous in the low light. “take me to bed n’ show me just how much you love me, lieutenant,” you murmured against his lips.

grinning, toji swept her into a bridal carry, careful not to jostle satoru and the kids. “roger that,” he whispered back playfully. “let’s go complete operation ‘welcome home.’”

and with that, he carried his gorgeous, giggling wife down the hall to their bedroom, ready to spend the rest of the night making good on the promise that had been building between them all evening long — a promise of passion, devotion, and a love that could set the whole world on fire.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites.com #i luv them so dearly #toji x black reader #toji smut #toji x female reader #jjk x poc!reader #toji x black y/n #toji fushiguro #toji #toji x reader #toji x fem! reader #toji x you

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mountainsandmayhem · 6 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

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