#not in a 'this is what i believe' way but like. 'this is how it is'

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ fury unleashed!

── a blue lock fanfiction.

synopsis: when the blue lock boys lose a match and come back bitter 'n all to you. pairing: afab!reader x multiple men [aged up isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri, rensuke kunigami, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, oliver aiku.] // separate for all the characters. cw: NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN JUST CAUSE I WAS BORED. MDNI. nsfw concludes: mean men, penetration, handjob, blowjob, teasing, nicknames teasing, overstimulation, sex in too many places [shower, locker room, car, etc.], marathon sex, aiku's is slightly lovesick help me. like, share, subscribe guys :) m.list

♡ isagi yoichi!

all this anger and only one way to end it: you!

you knew your own boyfriend, of course. you had seen how his words turned razor-sharp on the field, how his gaze hardened and how he almost ripped his own players to shreds when the game didn't go his way.

but despite it all, isagi yoichi was not a sore loser. in fact, he took every loss as another opportunity to be better. maybe... maybe that's why seeing him like this was a wicked surprise.

"baby?" you had called out from the kitchen as the main door had opened, and then shut just as soon. a loud, rippling bang had reverberated through your apartment as you saw isagi pass you by.

"what's wrong? how was your... match?" you had tried again, calling after him. but isagi had just given you a tight-lipped smile, "don't wanna talk about it. 'm just gonna go shower, wanna join?"

"oh?" you had given him an easy smile, thinking you could knead away the tension from his shoulders as the hot water ran across his muscled body, "'course, baby."

that was thirty minutes ago, and now you could barely stand.

perched against the wet bathroom wall, the same hot water was a soothing sting against yoichi's administrations.

"ha-hah, yoichi!" your words were a rough pant, your eyes closing at the harsh thrusts.

but isagi yoichi was unforgiving.

sinking his canines into your shoulders, hot drool collected over the newly blossomed bruises before being washed down and slipping down your syrupy body.

he pulled away, his reddened lips connecting to your shoulders with a lewd string of glistening saliva. his crazed eyes came to search your face, and he brought up a hand to pull your cheeks into a harsh pout. his words were laden with unresolved anger, "can you fuckin' believe it? he didn't even score."

your words were a lost gurgle, eyes widening as he continued, "i really don't fucking get it. that fuckin' idiot."

the star player didn't even give you a moment to recover, using the same hand to press down on your mouth to suppress your gasps and broken whines.

you choked on your own sounds, his palm flat against your kiss-bitten lips as he continued fucking you into the wall behind you. using all his anger, isagi vowed to ruin you utterly the way he would have the rival team.

"y-ichi." your muffled words reached his ears, even more weak under the sound of the falling water crashing against the bathroom floor. the footballer nodded, half in his senses and half in delirium, "what?"

he pulled his palm back, the skin now tainted with your drool and you burst into a fit of moans, "'m gonna cum ag-again."

"oh?" the man bunched his brows together — as if he had quite forgotten what his actions were doing to you, "are ya?"

you nodded and your eyes snapped shut at his repetitive thrusts within your cunt. barely managing a coherent word, you mewled, "y-yeah. fa... faster, ichi ngh—"

isagi grinned, a man maddened who could only see one goal — and that goal being splitting you on his cock and fucking you even dumber if possible, "c'mon, gimme all of it."

"y-yoichi 'm gon—" your words burst inwards, toes curling and nails scratching down his biceps in a desperate effort to ground you. but despite your desolate reactions, your boyfriend kept fucking into your snug cunt, relishing in the spasming sensation against his needy cock.

as you found yourself coming back to earth, yoichi gently picked you in his arms. his biceps flexed, muscles shifting against your naked body as you slumped against him completely. the water was turned off, and he stepped out of the shower.

as yoichi lay you down on your bed, you smiled up at him for his sweet action, "t-thank you, yoichi."

but he just cocked an eyebrow. his words were nothing more than a soft hiss, "what for? 'm still angry."

oh? the night was still young, it seems.

♡ rin itoshi!

the man with jersey number 10 loses his sanity!

truth be told, there was always this air around rin — the kind that always made everyone assume he was mad. with his icy gaze on the field, and snarls and insults thrown around, it was hard not to assume that rin itoshi was a very bitter man.

but in all honesty, rin was never bitter with you. he tried to sigh away his annoyances, and kiss away his anger with you around. as cringe as it sounded, he couldn't help but melt whenever you met his gaze.

maybe that is why the younger itoshi never quite looked at you as he fucked all of his anger into your weeping cunt.

after a match gone wrong, rin had his hand pushing your face against his locker door as he fucked your pliant, destitute cunt with reckless abandon. his strong grip groped the fat on your hips and thigh, ensuring that each fucking thrust within your heat had you betting your sanity on a losing match.

his ITOSHI: 10 jersey held up by his teeth, hair damp from a match gone wrong, and the ITOSHI tag on his locker rattling with each hard thrust into you.

"fuckin' shit—" the man grunted, and the jersey glided down his milky abs and bunched on his waist. gripping your leg harder, your boyfriend pushed your back further in, deepening the sinful arch. his body chased yours, his chest pressing against your stuttering back.

a steady rhythm of thwap! thwap! thwap! resounded in the abandoned room. and the cool metal against your cheek was a stark contrast to the hot sting against the fat of your ass from his body colliding against yours.

"ri-in" you whined, still meeting each of his thrusts with a sly roll of your own hips despite your reluctant words. your skin burnt with another calculated smack! against your ass and your clawed at the metal — deprived.

seeing the desperate action, rin brought the hand on your head down to your hand and intertwined — such a romantic gesture despite the way he fucked into you as if you were nothing more than a toy.

"yeah— fuck, what?" rin thrust deeper at the desperate echoes of his own name. his achy tip rubbed against your volatile spot, smearing pre against your sodden walls with each careful movement.

"rin, p-please—" limbs trembling, your words almost slurred at the way his hand came back up and squished your cheek against the metal, "please aah— f-fuck."

"please what?" grunting, he brought his fingers to your throbbing clit. pressing swift figures against your, he pressed his chest against your back tighter.

rin repeated, this time with a harsh, little slap to your mewling cunt, "please what?"

"please..." barely managing to move your face under his grasp, you looked back at him. your bleary gaze met his sharp ones, and your wobbling lips sagged open to let out a pathetic request, "fuck me harder."

and rin itoshi — the ever stoic man — laughed. he laughed, trailing the hand that was pressing down your head down to your nape and dragging your entire body back into him and his deprived cock.

each pull back into his muscled body had your limbs spasming, each roll of his hips had him hitting your g-spot and each word past his spit-soaked lips led to your demise.

"fuck you harder?" his hips snapped at a deadly pace, brows bunching at the way his own girlfriend had become so cockdrunk, "you want that?"

you nodded just barely, still under the control of his palm on your nape.

"okay, then." rin hiked up your legs impossibly higher, and your muscles burned with each shove into you, "I'll fuck you harder."

♡ chigiri hyoma!

trust me, meaner than he looks!

"hyoma?" your brows knitted together, a soft frown across your face as you recalled the live telecasting of your boyfriend's match online earlier today.

his team had lost, badly at that. and here you were halfway across the world, just to see chigiri's breath stutter and jaw tighten on your camera screen.

"h-hyoma?" you tried again, just to be met with eerie silence on his end. but being a woman of unyielding devotion, you tried yet again, "'sokay, you guys did your best, didn't... you?"

but the man on videocall just grunted, a sliver of a nod from his side.

"hyoma," you tried one last time, "is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

and those words had landed you in this position.

"faster."

"b-but hyo—" your own hips jerked, too out of control as you tried to hold the position steady, "i can't. i c-can't do it anymore— nghh—"

with your phone carefully perched against your pillow, it showed your boyfriend all the obscene ways in which your essence dripped out of you and onto your shared bed. the sheets under you were tainted with your honeydew essence, a wayward breath stuck in your throat as you pulled and pushed the rabbit vibrator in and out of your greedy hole.

toes curling, head thrown back, teeth sinking into your bottom lips — it was so, so hard to keep your thighs apart and put on a show for your eerily calm boyfriend. the very same boyfriend who was currently using one hand to control the app and another to lazily tug at his erection.

"h-hyoma—" you whined again and your boyfriend cocked an eyebrow at your disheveled demeanor, as if he wasn't the very cause of it. "why're you whining so much? too much for you?"

and acting as if he were a benevolent man, chigiri clicked the button on his phone and the buzzing ended abruptly. the slightest of smiles tugged at his lips as he hummed, "that better?"

your arched back fell back onto the sheets, your sweat-slicked skin falling limp in disappointment. this wasn't the first time chigiri had shut off your toy, or the second, or even the third. your benevolent boyfriend had been turning the precious toy he had bought you on and off again, and again, and again on his vicious whims.

with a shuddered breath trapped within your chest, you looked at him and whined yet again, "can you ju-jus' fuckin' turn it back on."

"huh?" your pretty boyfriend bunched his eyebrows together and drew closer to his laptop screen. nimble fingers still tugging on his tip, coated with his pre, he almost laughed at your tone, "are you really giving me that fuckin' attitude?"

"n-no." your eyes widened, body coughing up a shiver at the way chigiri's cold words rung through the speaker. you swallowed but your mouth felt awfully dry, "h-hyoma... just please, please turn it on."

"fine." the pro-player pressed the button on the app with reckless abandon, and the toy started up against your drenched, quivering cunt... and then stopped yet again. throwing your head back dangerously, you felt your limbs shake with frustration, "hyoma. please."

and even with your eyes clenched shut, you could hear the slightest of smirks in his words, "say nicely. y'know i don't have it in me to be nice today, baby."

snapping your eyes open, you tried to meet your unsteady gaze onto the phone screen, "i'll be good. i'll be s'good, i p-promise— just please let me fucking... c-cum."

there must have been something worthwhile in your drunk, lewd words that made chigiri finally tap the button on his phone again. and this time, he threw his phone somewhere on his bed, aiming to let the device get lost within the foreign sheets.

this time, he planned to watch the show without any interruptions.

the buzzing against your needy clit, and the shove within your greedy, gummy hole rendered you useless with orgasm upon orgasm till all you were doing was babbling on and on and on about how fucking sensitive you were.

"s-stop." holding your thighs together, you brought them up so that the toy fucked into your pussy with another angle. tears pooled at the edge of your eyes, and you found yourself aching for freedom from this torment. words just a wet plea, you asked, "pl-please ohmygod— hyoma, fuck fuck fuuck—"

with the blood rushing in your ears, you missed your boyfriend sodden, little hum — a warning, "you can do more than that, can't you?"

♡ rensuke kunigami!

swear up and down, he's the devil!

you were sure there was god up there somewhere, because how else could you explain the very re-incarnation of devil that was fucking into your spongy spot? you couldn't quite see his eyes, but if you did, you were sure to find no traces of guilt in rensuke kunigami's eyes for the way he was ruining you.

the muscles in your thighs burned, your limbs pinned upto your chest with his broad palms. perspiration across your body dripped onto him, your soaked back rubbed against his chest as kunigami snapped his hips into your inviting, plush cunt with inhumane stamina.

"c'mon." he panted, hips following the soft rhythm of his syllables, "the last stretch, 's the last."

"fu-fuck, fuck fuck re-rensuk- nghhh—" your nails dug into the very hand that was holding you still, trying to pry him off your malleable body. but it was all in vain, he had already planned your demise.

your head lolled back as you found the pro-played clawing out another orgasm out of you. limbs spasming, lips kiss-bitten and raw, and your poor cunt bulging obscenely with his length within you — you didn't even know how you ended up in this situation.

rensuke had come home with a dangerous glint in his eyes — of course, you hadn't been able to see that.

he had come upto you as you were unloading the clothes from the dryer and had pressed such a sickly sweet hug to your back. his hulking body was steady against yours, and his breath was hot against your neck.

"rensuke?" you had laughed as his grip across your waist grew tighter slowly. bringing up a hand to his hair, you had softly patted him, "what's wrong, ren?"

"think you can help me?" kunigami had breathed the question out so gently, "let me fuck you, yeah? i had a hard day."

and despite being such a simple question, here you were with your throat scratchy and muscles aching.

your boyfriend had planted his feet onto your almost-broken bed with all his strength, using it to leverage nasty, bruising thrusts within your sensitive hole.

"jus-just a bit more." your boyfriend sunk his teeth into your shoulder, and you yelped at the added stimulus, barely coherent with whatever was going on. all you knew was that you were being ravaged by the beast underneath you.

with every mean, little thrust inside you, kunigami's jaw tightened, his muscles flexing and unflexing as he supported your completely limp body. he heaved again, a ragged promise on his tongue, "i promise, just a bit more. jus' hold on a l-little bit f'me, baby."

how were his words so sweet when his actions were not?

"you can hold out for me... ri-" a harsh roll into your cunt, and the man felt himself losing his coherence, "right?"

"uh huh. i- fuck oh ngh— i can, i can." being an ever-loving girlfriend, you nodded. frankly too cockdrunk to really grasp his words, anyways.

a bit of drool threatened past your lips, and all you were aware of was the dreadful coil in the pit of your stomach. it wrapped it's tendrils around your muscles, then your throat and lastly, your sanity.

but kunigami kept on babbling his candied lies, as if blinding you with his words would undo the hell he was unleashing on your poor, sensitive cunt. each word a rough pant, he reminded you, "you're doin' so well for me, holdin' out s-so well for me, aren't you?"

"i- i am, ren." you nodded, and he felt his tip ooze out nasty smears of pre to paint your insides at your pliant reactions. tightening his hand around you and holding you steady, the man brought his skin against you in an accursed symphony of skin upon skin, "good girl, such a fuckin' g-good girl... yeah?"

"just." smack! "a." smack! "little." smack! "more." smack!

his length throbbed inside your spasming, inviting cunt with heinous intentions. fucking into you like he was fucking into a ragdoll, he asked a question — a question you were too fucked dumb to even answer.

"we're going again, right?" kunigami nudged his face next to yours, holding your shivering body as he felt his own body tightening up, "when we finish?"

despite the lack of oxygen in your brain, and lack of logic in your system, your eyes widened as you babbled out your own nonsense chorus, "w-what? ren... but y-you said—"

"—again."

"b-but i can't..." walls spasming, you tried yet again to pry him off, "i can-not."

"but you can." the man pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, the kind that were in clear juxtaposition with the depraved plunges he placed within your heat. he repeated with just the tiniest bit of insanity mixed into his syllables, "you can."

♡ reo mikage!

got an heir wrapped 'round my finger!

"reo?" you had cocked your head to look at the mikage industry's heir's sideways, trying to check if he was okay after that failure of a practice match, "you okay?"

he hummed out a faint yes but his knuckles tightened against the steering wheels far too easily. chuckling, the words came out somewhat strained, "of course, why wouldn't i be?"

you had tried to put a palm on his thigh, just to find the clothed muscle tighten, "can i help?"

the car steered sideways on the long-abandoned road, now coming to a steady crawl as he parked it.

reo's voice shook, eyes clenching shut as he addressed you again, "can you?"

despite the dangerous lilt to his words, you couldn't help but trail the hand on his thigh somewhat higher, teasing him. you smiled, and your lips curled so cashmere at your lewd intentions, "i can help take your mind off of things, reo."

his veiny hand gripped the headrest harder, manicured nails indenting frenzied dents onto the expensive leather. strands of his hair fell in front of his face in shuddering gasps as you flicked your wrist with each tug of his sensitive cock.

down on your knees for the man, you looked up at him with a sinful gaze — the kind that had reo hiss out weak moans of your name with each one of your reckless flicks.

"reo, are you okay?" you purred, lips curling deviously at the way his entire body stuttered out a falsetto. from the bunched eyebrows, to the quivering lips, to his lead-like limbs — reo mikage was rendered useless under your kitten licks and sultry tugs, under your already pearlescent hands.

how many times had he come undone, anyways? two? three?

"thr-three." reo breathed out shakily.

the man attempted to nod quick after, trying to forge a sign of sanity despite his shaking thighs and curled toes.

oh? did you ask that out loud?

"three?" you cocked an eyebrow, the same vicious smile still tugging at your lips like you were planning to suck the soul out of him tonight. "then, you can still go for one more, right?"

at your purr, reo's eyes widened, "n-no, this is— 'senough. i f-feel better, i promise."

but your tugs didn't halt, still such cruelly pulling at his sensitive tip, "but you're being such a good boy for me, right?"

at the petname, reo let out such an obscenely saccharine moan. eyes rolling back, he ran his helpless fingers through his soaked, hued hair. thighs trembling all over again as the mikage industry heir almost cried, "y-yes."

maybe you were a woman capable of mercy. because you stopped the slow, dragged out flicks of your hands against his flushed tip slowly. half-standing, you leaned to press a kiss to the tip of his flushed nose.

"tell me, baby." you cooed, pressing another kiss to his cheek, and another to the side of his swollen lips. dragging your vixen-like figure over his body, you caged him in so helplessly, "tell me, think you can handle if i use you?"

"i— ngh ple-please." and you heard the most sinful whimper tear out of reo's throat, eyes all but rolling into the back of his skull with the way you straddled his hips and pressed his wet, sensitive dick up and down your syrupy folds.

still playing with the flushed mushroom tip, you found it all-too-easy to hook the tip against the hood of your drumming clit. repeating the action again and again, you found yourself lazily biting out a moan of his name.

afterall, reo mikage was being so nice.

he was holding his breath in his throat, clenching his fist around the leather, biting down obscene curses — all in an effort to be good for you.

so, ofcourse, you had to reward him, didn't you?

with a hasty roll of your hips, your ravenous cunt pulled in the tip of his aching cock. inch after inch, the veiny, overstimulated muscle stretched within you and—

"—fu-fuck, fuck, fuckk." reo panted, eyes widening and body shivering when he let out the salacious beads of his orgasm within your voracious cunt.

"'msorry, 'msor-ry," he clenched his eyes shut, not quite looking at you as you were pumped with his essence, "i did-didn't mean to... to so— soon."

when his jitters subsided, you hooked a careful finger under his sweaty jaw to pull him upwards. a soft hiss on your tongue, "feel better?"

reo nodded softly, and you smiled so easily at him. but maybe you missed that glint in his eyes, or maybe you forgot that reo's play-style was copying. because now his fingers pumped in and out of you, a sly smile on his spent face as his demolished you.

reo mikage said it real slow, "tell me, angel... think you can handle if i use you?"

♡ nagi seishiro!

breaking that pretty cunt tonight!

"sei!" you had turned your head from the couch to the door that had opened to reveal your boyfriend, "hey!"

hair damp and face monotonous, he had given you a nod, "hey."

"something wrong..?" your voice had trailed off as the man walked upto you and easily picked you up in his arms without even as much as a sliver of explanation.

"need a shower," nagi seishiro had quietly answered, yet you could hear the slight rattle in the fractures of his words, "just tired."

"s-sei... c-can I move?" now, your manicured fingers kneaded his shoulders, trying to ease away the tense feeling lodged within the fibres of his muscles. the snowy-haired man had his head in the crook of your neck, lapping on the soaked skin lazily at the slow gyrations of your hips against his.

sitting in the heated bath, it was your idea to cockwarm him, your idea to sit excruciatingly still to let your boyfriend feel better. and yet, as your slick glossed over his muscled thighs, you shuddered out a pathetic sigh, "s-sei, please..?"

it just had been so long, almost felt like an eternity with the way your drooling cunt kept clenching around him — brewing up a violent storm of heady desires in the bottom of your stomach.

"se-i." the syllable rolled of your tongue with another desolate plea but nagi just tipped his head back, ignoring your forlorn words.

the damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead and glinted under the overhead ambient lighting. he sighed, and his deltoids flexed as he stretched his limbs out on the bathtub's edge.

biting your lip, you tried again. this time growing mouthy, "sei, jus' let me move."

the man cocked an eyebrow, a feeble smile tugging at his lips with the way your aching cunt seemed to suck him in, "nah, don't feel like it yet."

"i-i'll do all the work," you found yourself striking a deal with a demon reincarnate, found yourself pleading to a deaf god, "i promise— jus' let me move."

at the statement, your stoic boyfriend laughed. and once done, he nodded — an action so soft that you would have missed if not for the fact that your entire body was finetuned to his. at his action, your depraved hips caught up a lewd rhythm. grinding up and down, his flushed divot caught against your fraught spots and with each manic plunge.

"shi—" his usually downturned eyes widened for just a second, a restrained mewl lodged in the back of his throat as your greedy pussy sucked up the sloppy, spilling pre, "s-slower, baby."

but you just looked at him so dolefully — with your wretched, doe eyes tearing and lips quivering, "n-no."

"can't go slower?"

"don— don't want to."

and despite the tension etched into his sore muscles and the meagre patience, nagi laughed. plump lips curling up, he planted a careful hand on your soft waist to support your delicate figure, "that good?"

after an eternity of cockwarming, how could nagi seishiro even ask you if it was 'that' good? how could he ask that when practically each trivial stutter of his achy mushroom tip against your walls had you gasping for air and throwing your head back?

but you didn't have the coherence to say all that, so, clawing your nails down the same flexed deltoids, you nodded vigorously, "mhm— y-yeah, so good sei—"

with each nod, your body shivered and cunt mewled distraught at the way his cock split you apart at his sheer length.

bringing his quick fingers up to your face, nagi plucked away the damp strands of hair from your flushed face with a soft sigh. tucking the same stand behind your ears, nagi rolled his pelvis once and you fell forward onto his chest.

his lips ghosting over the shell of your eyes, the pro-player smiled, "having fun?"

nodding again, you stole another needy gyration or two as if nagi couldn't feel it, as if he couldn't feel you — you and your filthy, yearning pussy pulsating around his dick.

you heard the slightest click of his tongue, "'msorry then."

"f-for what..?" before you could raise your head to meet his eyes, or to question his words — nagi seishiro splayed his fingers against the fat of your hips and pulled you up and down on his whims.

with each nasty smack! of skin on skin, the man seemed to hit a deeper spot and you— oh, you were seeing stars.

head lolled, eyes rolling back and nails still digging into his flesh to mark him — you came on nagi's dick with a few, mean strokes into your heat, "jes—jesus fuck! se-i... sei— ohmygod—"

still now out of your orgasmic bliss, still caught up in the trance of his skin against yours, you almost jumped when you heard nagi seishiro whisper again, "'msorry. trust me, i am."

wobbling lips too tired to conjure up a reply, you just looked up to a strange, almost barbaric look flash in his irises. his hips snapped into yours, his cock ramming into your bruised walls with an inhumane force.

"sorry, babe." the pro-player breathed out a half-baked excuse, "sorry— think 'm gonna break this pretty pussy tonight."

and you didn't miss the slightly sadistic resonance in his words. oh no.

♡ oliver aiku!

fwb aren't supposed to do this, right??

"what d'you want?" you had slammed the door open to see the man of the very hour — oliver aiku — standing at your door, leaning against your wall all so nonchalantly as if it weren't three in the morning.

rolling your eyes, you regarded the tired man, "what? hoe no.3 busy that you had to come to me?"

"don't be ridiculous," aiku slipped past you and into the familiar apartment he had spent far too many nights in. his cadence dropped low, "you're hoe no.3."

although bitter syllables clung like dew onto your glossy lips, you closed the door behind you anyways. "what do you want? we didn't have any plans today, righ—"

"needed some help." and the former captain found himself turning on his heel to face you, "needed to blow off some steam. please."

well, plans be damned. this was the first time the oliver aiku had uttered the word 'please' to you.

"oh my god—" one of your fists clenching against the fabric of his shirt while the other rubbed desperate figures against your sloppy clit, you barely held your gaze steady against his heterochrome eyes.

he had been so desperate — oliver aiku had been so desperate — that the dress that you were wearing had been hastily bunched up on your waist, and his shirt had stayed on.

he had kissed you, and then he had kissed you again and again and again till his lips were bruised and swollen and his head wasn't quite screwed on right.

shoving your figure against the nearest wall, the man had caged you in with a forbidden whimper of your name. his muscles shook, eyes searching your salvaged form like a predator on hunt, "i tried going on a run, i hit the gym— fuck, didn't fucking help."

the clicking of the belt, followed by a swift shove within your velvety hole, and you heard the man audibly hiss at the feeling of his tense erection bruising your walls with every dragged out, filthy plunge. he mumbled false nothings, praying to a deity that would never answer, "i tried everything. b-but you—"

now, clenching his jaw, the former u-20 captain tightened his hold against one of your thighs, stretching the limb out so that he could fuck into your sopping cunt harder. all while another hand supported your crumbling figures against the creaking bed.

"too much? too much?" meeting your pelvis against his in a lewd dance, the man grunted out strained words, "sorry— 'msorry, tough... tough day today, ma."

"mhm," you nodded, your sugary lips falling into an easy pout, "'s okay, what's wr-rong?"

oliver scoffed — you and him were nothing more than a series of horny, reckless favours, and yet you were looking up at him like you meant your question.

usually, your sessions were fast-paced; the sound of skin on skin, damp hair, scratches down his skin and bruises blossoming on your skin where people could see — rabid animals in a wicked arrangement. that's all you two could ever be.

but today, his thrusts were slower, more calculated despite the anger that lingered in each movement of his lagged limbs. and if you had been in your senses, you could see the sliver of yearning in his eyes as he took in your shaking figure under his gaze.

"i—" words a wet gurgle, he tried to think of the reason he was fucking you like this — soo slow, like you meant something more, "s-shit match."

"oh— aah—a-aiku!" whatever reply you had thought of dissolved as oliver shoved his tongue in your mouth. the muscles caught in a lewd dance, the pro-player tried to shove down any thoughts. moaning against him, you sounded so sinful... did you always sound like aiku's demise or was he imagining things in his lucid state?

when he parted from you, the glistening strings lingered between you — a haunting sign of the way you were making him feel. so, obviously aiku just clutched your leg harder — almost bruising — and fucked into your cervix.

body moving mechanically, each crevice of his mind was occupied by you. how soft your skin felt under his skin, how warm you were, how your breath hitched with another orgasm knocking down your insides.

and as you threw your head back, exposing your shuddering neck and chest, you clenched your eyes like you always did. weak fingers kept rubbing frenzied circles onto your drenched cunt, rosy cheeks scrunched up in a forbidden delight — oliver had seen this scene so many times, then... why did he feel so utterly stupid looking at you?

didn't he come here to blow off steam..? and yet, the pro-player felt like he had found more things to be worried about as he found himself spilling the pearlescent fluid within your plush cunt.

well, nothing another round or two couldn't fix, right?

a/n: did you know aiku is his first name and oliver is his last?? bro. insane. anyways make isagi and bachira kiss u losers i know they wanna. also, im sowry cause i know some part is long and some isn't, i have been writing this over the course of many days, hence, the inconsistency in writing style and length :') tagging: @fantastically-imperfect @moodswing101 @isabellalovesyou @mininji @scara-simp69 @heartfeltstarry @actuallynarii <3 hope you enjoy mwuah mwuah <3 m.list

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[sbcdh]

“Oh gosh the fire. Yes it was truly a tragedy. You know, HECA79 was the prototype for the new regulation model. Well, haha, new for the time. It was the seventies after all. It really is fascinating. She was the first one we put in the class N tanks. Fascinating technology for the time, clever as the dickens. You see, the insides of the tank were to be lined with a thin layer of magnetically laminated gold calcite particles that formed a reflective lattice under electrical stimulation. A gold plated one-way mirror for brainwaves! I’m sure you understand, it was the best we could do for 1983-”

“So you subscribe to the, uh, equipment malfunction theory?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh. Terribly sorry. Equipment malfunction? As I recall, it functioned quite well.”

“So you believe the fire was caused by something else?”

“The fire? Oh. Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know the exact specifications, but if I recall correctly, there were all sorts of firebreaks and engineers and junior-engineers stationed all around –all helmeted, mind you– to make sure that sort of thing never happened.”

“And yet.”

“And yet. Indeed…Well, between you and me, I think It was one of the junior engineers.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. We were a bit of a maverick bunch back then. Reagan gave us all that research money, but, well, its always a bit different when the wheels hit the pavement haha. Oh. Oh. I hope I haven’t gotten anyone in trouble. They were nice lads all. Well, some of them were Germans, but nice lads.”

“We are more interested in your observations of HECA79. I was told you were able to directly observe her during the incident. If there is anything you can tell us, please, speak loudly enough for the tape to hear.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. You know, I completely forgot we were being taped haha! And you caught all of my rambling! Well, I think I can help you out. Oh yes. Now. You must understand. A good half of this is going to be embellished. You know how memories go, you always get more heroic looking back as time goes on haha. But yes, I think I can help you out. Ah, where should I start?”

“What was the first thing out of the ordinary that you noticed?”

“Her lips were moving.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?”

“By gosh for a plutophant yes! At full emmanation, there is no part of them that is not the market! Every neuron soaked in hypno-amphetamine rocket fuel! Most of them –if you’ll pardon my language sir– shit their tanks the moment their Id touches the sub-finantial background grid! What do you think half those tubes are for! A plutophant in full emmanation doesn’t have a braincell to spare to keep their sphincters closed, much less perform something as complex as speech!”

“I see. Could you make out what the asset was saying?”

“Oh no. No, I’m afraid not. I can’t read lips. Back in those days, they were hooked up to a helmet, and then the helmet read the delta-wave patterns, and then printed that on magnetic tape. That way, we could feed the tape to some lob-, ah translators, and have them interpret the feed.”

“When did her lips start to move? What time of day?”

“Funny thing, almost exactly at 12:03. I should have been off at lunch, but I was procrastinating. I had a crossword I was right on the edge of solving. It was one of those big words that goes all the way across the page. TIMEPIECE. I remember that clear as day.”

“Interesting. I have here that equipment registered the fire almost exactly seven minutes later.”

“Oh dear. Do you understand what that means sir?”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Is that a schematic of the N class tank you have there? Hand it over. Thank you sir. So. Back in 1983, we didn’t have any of the fancy digital equipment we have now. Well, we did, but not to the same degree. Most of our equipment was good old analogue. You see this module here? These weren’t part of our system. No, we were waiting on the replacements to show up.”

“And, what is that part?” 

“Think of it like the uh, ah yes, the carburetor in a car. It keeps everything balanced. Keeps the subjects metabolism steady so they don’t chew through the drugs too fast, keeps the tank at the ideal temperature for chemical reactions, without boiling the subject like a lobster haha. But the key is, it was completely mechanical. But at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of tubes full of fluid that move based on pressure differentials.”

“Which means?”

“Well, heat would throw it off.”

“Here, I think we have a schematic. Now, doctor, this is very important. I need you to explain to me exactly how the machine malfunctioned, and how it would affect HECA79.”

“Well technically, it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. It was functioning correctly, just under less-than-ideal circumstances. Oh, haha. Yes, haha, but thats not what you’re looking for haha. Yes. Well. What side did the fire hit it from? Do you know?”

“This one here.”

“Fascinating. Well. Then, the apparatus would have uh, hm. Oh dear.”

“Doctor.”

“It would have spiked the hypnostimulant feed, while introducing impurities.”

“Which means?”

“I- I haven’t the slightest idea. It would've been deadly, I can assure you that. But its as if…Its as if you had a car, coasting in neutral, downhill at terminal velocity, and then you switched gears to high gear, and then slammed the gas while spraying rocket fuel into the intake.”

“Could we ask you to write a full report on your speculation?”

“Frankly sir, I am as intrigued as you are. You would have to hold my wrists to keep me from writing on this. Fascinating.”

ENCLOSED: FINAL READOUT OF HECA79

"BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD"[Phrase repeats over twenty thousand times.]

[tbaluver]

"Where Do Babies Come From?" - The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader genre: fluff fluff + silly + scenario summary: your child(ren) ask you and your lover where babies come from requested: anonnie ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა a/n: hihi lovelies ! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)♡ posting this before the livestream that's in a couple hours ! i hope you all enjoy reading and i hope to have a couple more posts out this week ! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“Papa, where do babies come frwom?” The question was simple yet it struck him like a lightning bolt. His son’s innocent eyes stared up at him, waiting for an answer but he was left frozen at his spot, his mind completely blank. How could he possibly explain this? He was never prepared for this question, it was never in the parenting books he’s read when you were pregnant.

In your shared bedroom, you sat on the bed, scrolling through your phone when Xavier and your son walked in, hand in hand. Xavier held a small notebook in the other but your son darting towards you with open arms distracts you. “Mommy!” He squeals as you scoop him up and plant a sweet kiss at the top of his head.

“Mommy, me and daddy want to know where babies come from!” You blink, glancing at Xavier who sits at the edge of the bed, nodding along to his son as he opens up the notebook, ready to take notes

“You and daddy?” You ask, darting your gaze at your son and back to Xavier. “Well..when mommy and daddy love each other very much..” You trail off, choosing your words carefully. You wanted to keep it as innocent and simple as possible and it seems that your son believed you as he nodded along.

When your son ran off the play, you sighed in relief, glad to know that the topic didn’t go any more awkward than that. “So Xavier...why did you need to know?” You quirk a brow at him, as if he wasn’t also the reason you both have a son who you both love very much.

“So next time, when we have another child I’ll know what to say.”

Zayne:

Small footsteps padded across the floor making their way towards Zayne’s home office. He sat at his desk, reviewing the slides for his upcoming conference, absorbing all the details. Zayne usually lets her play around in his office if she wants to, but if there is anything bothering her, he can always ask her.

“Daddy?” She peeks at the side of his desk, stretching up on her tippy toes so she can see him. Zayne’s attention shifts, the sound of his office chair turning so she knows his focus was fully on her. He reached out, scooping her up and settled her comfortably in his lap.

“What’s wrong dear?” He asks softly.

She tilts her, “Since you’re a doctor where do babies come from?” The question caught him off guard for a moment but it quickly softened into a smile. It’s impossible for him not to find her adorable to be so curious at this age. It reminded him of his own childhood where he would always ask his parents questions.

He clears his throat, “They come from their mother’s stomach.” A simple answer his own mother had given him when he was around her age. It was enough for him even if he hadn’t fully understood it at the time.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed the information, her finger tapping her lip as she thought. “But..how did the baby get there?”

Zayne chuckles softly, his heart melting at the sight of her little mind trying to piece things together. Gently, he pinches her cheek. “I promise I’ll explain it to you when you’re older, alright ?After I’m finished with this, we can go play”” He kisses the top of her head before setting her down, hoping she’ll forget about it for now.

Rafayel:

Small feets padded their way toward their father who sat at the couch, balancing a pencil between the bridge of his nose as he concentrated on a sketch. The moment he heard their playful shrieks come closer to him, his attention shifts as he sets the sketchbook down. With arms opened wide, the children dove into his embrace, their tiny bodies crashing into him playfully.

“Daddy daddy!” One of your sons bounce up and down in excitement, his voice bubbling with curiosity.

He chuckles softly, pulling them away. “Yes my little glub glubs?” He asks as all the children snuggle closer to him. They exchange glances, deciding on who would speak first. Rafayel raises a brow, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches his children in curiosity

“Where do babies come from?” One of them suddenly asks, the other two nodded in unison, their eyes wide as they wait for their lemurian father to speak. He froze in his spot, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Oh!” He stammered, scratching the back of his hair, smiling sheepishly. “How about you ask mommy? Y'know she’s very experienced with that.” Yes, yes he’s a genius. He dodged the question for now.

“Mommy told us to ask you!”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Another chimes in.

“She said you’re the reason we’re here!” They nodded eagerly, waiting for him to provide an answer.

“Does that make you our mommy then daddy?” The youngest asks, innocence in their eyes as well as confusion. However, the question hit him like a brick, leaving him frozen in his spot again. They completely misunderstood what you said and now his children are looking at him as if he was a male seahorse.

He blinks, “No, no I’m still daddy,” He clarifies, chuckling nervously. “What mommy means is...when me and her kiss.. in the sea, we make a seagull come and deliver you to us one by one! It’s a realllyyyy long process.”

You’re definitely going to pay him back after this.

Sylus:

You and Sylus were nestled in the living room couch, your hand resting gently on your baby bump. While you watched a show/ movie, Sylus sat beside you, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he flipped through pages. Your little girl sat at the coffee table, creating little scenarios in her world of dolls and toys, the tiny figurines making soft clicking noises as she moved them across the table.

With a curious expression, she picked up the two dolls in each hand, one she often associated them as ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’, studying both of them. Her crimson eyes flicked between the two figures and then over to their small family of children she had arranged in the playset. Her gaze shifts to your grown belly, curiosity of hers growing.

“Mommy, Daddy?” she asks, her cute little voice gaining both of your attention. She walks over to you both, her white hair tied up slightly bouncing with each step.

“What is it sweetie?” Sylus asks, lowering the papers, his crimson eyes meeting hers. She hesitates for a moment, still holding the dolls before shifting her gaze back between you both.

“Where do babies come from?” She asks innocently. The question hung in the air for a moment, catching you both off guard. It wasn’t just the question itself, but it just felt so sudden. Sylus knew that this would eventually come but he didn’t expect it to be quite so soon. Maybe he shouldn’t have bought her a room full of dolls.

“Well sweetie they come from your mother’s v-”

“AHEM.”

Looks like you’ll handle this for now and Sylus gets to sit this one out

[crimsonmochi]

Personal ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, cunnilingus, slight choking, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, a little bit pathetic, and a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, no beta

Word Count. 3.9k

A/N. baby's first jjk fic, be gentle </3 please give me feedback and lmk if i forgot some tags :3 reposts encouraged!

Rain dribbled and splattered on the window, the tiny water beads reflecting and refracting the dim light from Satoru's phone. He sat upright on his bed, muscular back against the headboard, upper arms aching from his last session two days prior. He had reluctantly agreed to participate in a "professional"―which, to Satoru, was just a word for more work, smaller pay―shoot with some girl he could barely remember the name of.

The result? The director had barked at him to put himself in impossible positions for the camera's sake, which left his limbs sore and not in a good way. Satoru forced the scene to end, left with his money and a vow to himself to never ever work for studios again. He hated being told what to do, especially from guys who don't actually have what it takes.

While painkillers and a nice massage from the spa below his apartment complex did not eradicate the pain, it did make it much more tolerable.

Satoru's thumb swiped across the screen, scrolling through comments from his latest post, a message to his subscribers asking for content ideas. Sure, he did not like being told what to do, but being kindly suggested by his fans to fulfill their desires was different. In the end, he was still in control.

And it probably won't land him in a pharmacy either.

The request that Satoru found came up the most was for him to do ASMR; some fans wanted to hear those pretty praises, those filthy words he gives to his co-stars, spoken to them instead. Although the idea was alluring, Satoru would rather be on camera than behind a fancy microphone in a recording booth—primarily because he was too proud to opt out of showing his god-crafted body (that cocky bastard). But then again, he could find a way to do both...

He shelved that idea for later.

Other requests were suggestions of people to shoot with. Some popular names came up, women and men he had already filmed with and didn't find too interesting. He could fake it, of course; he was an actor, it was half of his job―but he would be unsatisfied with the end result.

Satoru was about to quit reading requests, bored and uninspired until his cerulean eyes stuck themselves to a particular comment. The space between his eyebrows creased as his eyebrows furrowed. It was a subscriber recommending another star, explaining how they weren't very well known, but they believed them and Satoru would make a great pair.

The wording was not what caught his attention, he had gotten plenty of requests with the same exact sentence before. No, it was the name, your page's name��which, to Satoru, felt familiar yet distant. He hadn't shot with you before, no, that wasn't it. Yet he was certain he knew you, knew of you at least.

His thumb reached for the search bar to type in your alias, his eyelids flickering when his gaze fell on your profile, your soft face on display. Satoru felt his length chub up in his boxers, soft lips parting to accommodate for a sudden need of oxygen.

Just as his subscriber said, you were less popular than him, with less than half the number of subscribers he had and an inarguably cheaper paywall in front of your content. Memories of happily searching for his new credit card numbers to pay for your videos came back rushing to him, memories only a few months old.

Satoru recalled seeing a preview and being immediately smitten by your pretty figure, your plush thighs and your tummy, that tiny thrill in your eyes. Fuck, how he had spent half of his revenue giving you tips on an anonymous account―just to obtain a personalized picture of just those pretty thighs, fisting his aching cock to that image for days.

Just looking at that profile again, oh my god.

His eyes laid on the subscription button. He did not even bother getting on an alt account this time to press it, watching the confirmation request pop up on his screen to gather his fingerprint in order to complete the purchase. When the paywall finally went away, Satoru let out a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, his hand travelling to his boxers, palming himself through his briefs as he scrolled.

And oh, he was gone again.

Satoru had never sent a message to his agent that frantically in his life, asking her―no, begging her to contact you to secure a shoot with you. Asked her to do whatever she could to get you in the studio.

The next few days went by without a reply from your part, and Satoru was going mad. He could not remember being this nervous for anyone, this needy. In between sessions of overthinking (maybe he should have asked you himself or maybe offered something more), he found himself replaying videos of yours he had already seen, notably the ones with other men. He knew them by heart.

Those guys didn't seem to appreciate you nearly as much as you needed, as much as you deserved. It pissed him off beyond what he thought was possible, yet made him so hard; He knew he could fuck you so much better than those amateurs you were with, pleasure you in ways they wouldn't even dare.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, you were just intimidated by his offer. Too much money from too big of a creator and an offer that seemed too good to be real to not hold a catch, which is why you did not answer right away, anxiously weighing the implications. It wasn't until he, in a moment of pure desperation and haze, shot you a private message confirming the offer that you replied, shyly agreeing.

From then on, Satoru could barely contain himself, daydreaming about everything he could do to you with his left hand eagerly moving up and down his cock, breathy exhales escaping his mouth and shaky fists gripping his bedsheets. Too often, he found himself checking the calendar on his phone, awaiting the shoot date, disappointed every time that it was still the 15th instead of the long-awaited 21st. Satoru Gojo did not exactly believe himself to be a patient man.

He sent you little messages throughout the week with ideas and reassuring messages. He wanted to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, what you thought of him, how your body worked, and how he could get you to whine and moan for him.

On the day of the shoot, Satoru was almost unrecognizable to others involved―his agent and the friends he'd stopped to visit on his way to his studio. The man people had described as cocky, overly confident, and self-absorbed was reduced to a nervous, lost-in-thought mess. All because of you, the pretty little thing he would get to have his hands on later that evening.

He'd showered three times, spent too long in his room figuring out what clothes to wear, as if that would matter, and freaked out over his hair. His hair.

And when you finally arrived at the studio with your assistant, he nearly forgot how to breathe. That, or he was purposely holding back for fear of scaring you off, this cute little thing before him. You introduced yourself, pretty eyes gazing up at him, taking a second to admire each and every one of his features. As soon as he saw your smile, here in person, he told himself he could die happy.

Well, he could die happy after having a taste of you.

You were shy while introducing yourself to him. The interaction could easily have been misread as awkwardness, and that was what Satoru would have gone with, too, if he didn't know any better (if he didn't think so highly of himself). Your softer voice, your pretty eyes, god, those eyes. He could tell you might've had a tiny crush on him as well, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make his head reel.

Your assistant all but confirmed it when you excused yourself to the restroom, admitting that you hadn't stopped gushing about this opportunity since you got it.

And when you got back, he had the most annoying smirk and glint in his eyes, looking down at you.

After discussing what he wanted for the scene, making sure you were comfortable and willing to participate―a gentleman, truly, asked you so many times that you started chuckling your answers―he had his agent and your assistant leave the studio after you agreed to dismiss them. He did not mind an audience, but he wanted this to be personal.

"I film all my own shit anyways," he hummed, hopping behind the camera to adjust the angle.

In the film room of the studio was a bedroom set with a queen-sized bed with navy sheets and a wooden frame. A sliding-door closet with mirrors stood tall on the left side, and a bedside table on the right.

The scene you and Satoru agreed upon was vanilla, but he was pleased with the gist of it. Any way he could have you is a way he'd be pleased with, however. It didn't really matter how for the time being.

You sat in the middle of the bed, your back against the cold headboard and palms against the soft sheets, gazing at Satoru as he grumbled at the camera, shifting through the studio to find a new battery with his lips pursed in a pout. It amused you, seeing a different side of him.

It was only three minutes later that he climbed onto the bed, knees against the mattress as he moved towards you, those blue eyes staring at your frame through those pale lashes. He moved to straddle you, his back straight, his body looming over yours.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," mumbled Satoru, his hand firmly landing on the headboard to support himself, making a louder sound than he intended. "You tell me if I'm too much for you, alright, pretty?" he followed in a softer tone.

You nodded, the pad of your index landing on his shoulder and travelling down his torso, trailing close to the sweatpants he wore. Satoru reached his own unoccupied palm to your face, his fingers hooking themselves at the nape of your neck to pull you towards him. His nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips with his.

Satoru had never felt drunk on a kiss until you entered his studio.

As if a switch flipped in his head, he kept you closer to him, desperate and unwilling to pull away from your lips. He breathed shakily, his minty breath fanning over your mouth.

"Oh, you're good at this," he laughed, an arrogant laugh that made your pussy ache.

"Yeah?" you murmured.

"Yeah."

The hand on your cheek moved to your throat, squeezing at the sides―not enough to hurt, just to make oxygen sparse in your system. "I'll make you feel good, sweetheart, hm? I'll do better than those fucking losers on your page."

The sweetest words said oh so cruelly.

Although it was increasingly hard for you to think, you were able to click the pieces together pretty quick, your eyes widening and your pupils dilating.

'Fourth wall break wasn't part of the plan.

Oh.

He watched.'

Satoru's gaze had changed. Deep, yet precise in conveying the exact energy desired. A short, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips, and fuck, he fed on that, on your reactions to him, no matter how small or insignificant. It mattered to him.

Warm fingers slipped under your the black camisole hugging your body before you could even notice his hand had left your throat, caressing your skin until he his the jackpot, massaging the same breasts he had spent hours looking at only within the past week.

"Oh-ho— nothing, no bra for me?" Satoru chuckled. He captured your nipple between his index and his thumb, rolling and pinching at it until it pebbled, drawing out a whimper from your lungs.

Satoru was fascinated by what he had under his hand, taking a too-curious approach to exploring, as if he had never seen or felt another body before this point in his life. He took his time to gently remove the fabric off of your body, imagining all the ways he could bind and explore it, worship it, cum all over those pretty tits—

It wasn't until he felt your soft hands trying to discard his shirt that he snapped out of his haze, realizing he was fucking up the pacing.

Satoru latched his mouth to one of your breasts, biting and sucking gingerly while he focused on getting you out of those tight leggings you wore just for him, that truly left nothing to the imagination. He frantically worked to get those white laced panties out of the way with a tad more force than he should have, causing a tear to rip into the fabric.

"Satoru—" you gasped, only halfway acting.

"I'll get you another pair," he groaned against your chest, licking over one of the bite marks he had left before unlatching to look down.

Satoru's brain short-circuited.

Sure, he's seen your body time and time over, but that had only ever been through the careful separation of a screen, a paywall. It was different to have access to it, to be able to touch and feel.

He thanked his earlier self for asking if he could eat you out, for now, getting to have your supple thighs around his face and neck. Fuck, he could really die happy now.

Satoru caught sight of your dripping cunt, juices dripping and latching onto your skin. He felt hungry for what seemed to be the first time in his life, moving down your body to kiss right over your mound, your scent filling his senses.

"Oh, s-shit, look at that," said Satoru.

Had he just stuttered?

He nudged his nose in between your folds, brushing against your clit with a swiftness that made your figure jolt. He chuckled, moving his arms to trap your hips and pin them to the mattress, muscles flexing under his skin to intimidate.

"God, she wants me so bad."

Satoru languidly licked up and down your slit, careful to miss your sensitive bud in the meanest way. He whimpered at the taste of you on his tongue, sweet in a natural way, catching both you and himself off guard. If his face wasn't buried in your cunt, you could have seen the faint blush creep to the surface of his cheeks.

"You ever had someone do this, sweet'art?" he mumbled against your heat, lips finally latching on to your clit.

"N-No, not really," you sighed.

"Mh," Satoru hummed disapprovingly, toying with the bundle of nerves between his teeth, one of his arms sneaking away from your hips. He teased his ring finger at your entrance. "You're, fuck- fuck― you're so― taste so good..."

He pushed his finger past the ring of muscle until he was knuckles deep, groaning before he returned his mouth to your clit, sucking in small intervals as he pumped in and out of your velvety walls. Satoru whined when your hand flew to his hair.

And when you moaned for him, he was a goner. He noticed the usually loud and audibly altered sounds had turned saccharine and almost timid.

You had been faking your moans?

He snickered at his realization, breaching through the noise of your moans and the quiet slurps. "I think she loves me," said Satoru in between breaths.

"Wha-, who―"

"Wasn't talking to you, love." Satoru's words drastically contrasted with his soft tone.

He punctuated his sentence by curling his digits to find and abuse that spongey spot, earning a string of nonsense words and whines from you, only encouraging his endeavour. The soft squelch of your pussy around his fingers and his mouth was enough to drive him to buck his hips toward the mattress.

When Satoru felt your soft thighs tighten around his head, he forced himself to pull away, grunting as you desperately moved to grip your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him there. If he hadn't had such strong convictions, he might have stayed down there for the rest of his life, dying happy with his face buried in your pretty cunt.

Satoru straightened his form, his fingers pulling out to find your clit, rubbing it in soft circles. You protested, whining pathetically.

"I know, I know, sweet girl, I'm sorry. Wanna... wanna have you cum on my cock. Can y'do that love? Want you all over me.."

He was mumbling, staring into your eyes with his pupils blown wide. The blue of his irises was overtaken by those black orbs, capturing you in his sight. His chin was wet and dripping, and his lips were slightly swollen.

A gorgeous mess for you to gaze upon.

Satoru's eyes dropped down to the sweatpants he threw on earlier (and called Suguru about just to make sure it looked "casual but not fuckboy"―Suguru called him a dumbass and hung up), carefully bunching up the fabric as well as his boxers before pushing down. Hissing as his length perked up, angry and weeping pre, he breathed a little heavier than before, his shoulders rising and falling. Satoru hadn't felt this worked up in months, maybe years, all from this.

For you.

And you would not be lying saying that had to be the prettiest dick you'd ever seen.

"Shit― look at that, hah," Satoru softly chuckled. "Lift your legs up f'me, pretty, come on.."

He grinned down at you as he helped you push your knees up to your limit, delicately placing your ankles on his shoulders and leaning his torso forward. Satoru placed one of his palms behind your cranium, a small yet protective measure.

"This okay?" asked Satoru, nudging his tip against your folds, collecting your slick to drench his cock, gliding over your clit.

"Y-Yeah, this is fine..."

It was rare for you to be nervous, given that you were used to having sex, filming it, and posting it for hundreds to see. Intercourse was not something you had any insecurities about. Usually.

What caught you off guard was the look in Satoru's eyes, the way he carried himself with a gentleness foreign to anything you've seen from him.

Satoru leaned down to press kisses against your jawline, open-mouthed and delicate, exhaling as he guided his length past your entrance, satisfied at the small gasp he heard from your lips.

"Oh my god, it's even fucking better than I imagined," said Satoru, his voice strained.

He could feel the stretch, your walls fluttering to accommodate him, still so tight and fuck―the tiny high-pitched, almost inaudible whimpers that escaped your throat.

"Don't know if I'll be able to pull out, sweet girl, hah―shit―she's sucking me in, look."

"Then don't," you mumbled, turning your head to meet his lips.

"You can't say shit like that," Satoru scoffed.

"Why not? I want it."

If you were simply pretending for the camera, that was some damn good acting. Good enough to turn Satoru into putty in your hold, to shut his brain off and make him act on instinct alone, script be damned.

Satoru pushed in until his pelvis hit your flesh, his hold on you faltering in strength momentarily, a helpless expression on his face. He listened to your quiet whines, his free hand returning to your clit in hopes of easing the strain.

"Just fuckin' perfect, holy fuuuck―" he strained out.

He withdrew his fingers from your clit to taste you once more, addicted. He drew his hips back slowly, just enough to leave about an inch inside, before thrusting back in at a slightly faster pace, setting a rather slow, intimate rhythm for you to follow.

Satoru watched as your breath picked up, how the slow rock of his hips made your eyes unfocus, and your mouth hang open. He watched as your forehead started to sweat, how your hair moved along his movements.

More importantly, Satoru listened. He heard those moans, shakier and uncalculated. He knew he wasn't crazy earlier when he had the reflection that you had been faking them.

Actually pathetic, those "men" you had been with.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" Satoru mumbled, out of his mind. Like he was a schoolboy talking to his second-period crush. "So pretty... s'not fair..."

"H-Huh―?"

"S'not fair how it's gonna be―mh, shit―over, how s'gonna be over."

Satoru angled his hips differently, aiming for that spongey spot he had found earlier. That said, he would have had to be able to think straight to get it on the first try; which he could not, not when he was buried deep inside your cunt.

"W-What―aah, fuck, Satoru~"

You couldn't recall any shoots you had done―or any sex you had had at all, actually―that felt as good as Satoru.

"Right there, right? S'that i-it?"

He drove his movements faster, his pelvis hitting the back of your thighs and your ass with a louder SMACK! than it did previously, his breaths becoming further shallow and desperate. His skin grew increasingly damp as his efforts increased, and what were previously grunts turned to shameless moans, whines and whimpers, wanton and needy.

The man was losing his mind, so unlike anything you had seen from him.

Satoru's thrusts soon became erratic and uncoordinated, his face buried in your neck, drinking all of the sounds you were making like he was getting drunk on them.

"Can't... won't last l-long, okay? M'sorry I can't..." Satoru wailed.

His hand found your breast, flicking at your nipple in hopes of making you cum faster, needing to feel you. You were teetering on the edge, and he could feel it, feel how your pussy drew him in.

"Y'know you've been― y'been teasing me for two fuckin' weeks―aah... shitshitshit, so so g-good―two weeks." He paused to groan, pinching your flesh between his index and thumb to elicit a reaction from you. "Can't get enough of you, you're so―and you know it, you fuckin' know it too, I-I know y'do."

"Satoru! So close, please d-don't stop," you yelped, walls constricting around his length.

"Y-Yeah, pretty, I know, fuck―I know, sweet thing. I got you," Satoru panted and tightened his grip on the back of your head as if to brace for impact. "Y'do know how to drive me fuckin' crazy, with―mh, you're so soft and pretty, m-makes me want to quit the business, make you my own, God, make you my pretty wife."

Satoru's mind was running on overdrive, trying to keep up with what the fuck he was saying and making sure you felt good, as good as him. No easy task.

"Shit, gonna make you mine, I promise, fuck―"

His his stuttered as he spilled himself inside you, crying out like a wounded animal. It felt too good, it was too much.

Satoru kept going, although fucked out of his mind, determined to make you cum. He lapped up the sweat from your neck, not caring if it was nasty, while he reached down to your clit once more, slapping the sensitive bud a few times, stopping when he felt your cunt constrict and clench around him, a nice little ring of creamy mixed arousal forming at the base of his cock, gliding down your ass and spilling on the bedsheets.

"Such a mess, oh my God," Satoru whined.

He gathered some on two of his fingers, wiping it right off of your skin. "Taste it f'me, pretty," Satoru groaned.

He could have ascended to heaven right then as you wrapped your lips around his digits, glossy eyes peering up at him through your lashes.

"I gotta keep you."

pt. 2?

[hoernypie]

need corruption kink with gojo or geto🤲🏼 like reader is rly innocent never done anything not even kissing so gojo/geto is getting off so hard on the fact that she’s never been touched and seeing the affect he has on her pls pls pls

"You really never kissed?" he hummed trying to hide a smirk on his face, "You're such a pretty girl so it's hard to believe," he said gently caressing your cheek. You looked down at the floor in his dorm room, "So… Could you teach me…?" you asked so quietly, almost whispering. "Sweets, I'll teach you anything, we're friends, right? I will always help you," he said leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead. With those sweet words of comfort, he tilted your chin up with his forefinger. His eyes closed as he leaned in closer, his breath warm and soft against your skin. The anticipation built as he hovered just millimeters from your lips, savoring the moment before the first kiss. Then, with a tender touch, his mouth met yours, pressing gently. His other hand found its way to your waist, drawing you nearer as he deepened the kiss. His caress grew more deliberate, exploring your body. The kiss grew in intensity, before you pulled away, gasping for air when he chuckled softly seeing your reaction "Aww baby, breathe through your nose."

When his lips again met yours, his hands had found their way under your uniform skirt, gently caressing the soft skin of your thighs. His touch grew a bit firmer as he slid his palms higher up, making you blush even more than before. You could feel your heart race when you noticed hardness growing in his pants. The heat of his palms and the pressure of his body against yours sent shivers down your spine, making you aware of his arousal. "W-What's that?" you asked shyly, palming his hard dick through the fabric "Is it hurting you?" With your innocent curiosity, you gazed up at him with wide eyes, feeling the unfamiliar firmness of his arousal. He chuckled gently, a mix of amusement and tenderness, "Yes, Sweets, it's hurting, but… massaging it can help me feel better," he whispered. You nodded softly in response. His hands moved to the hem of your panties, sliding them aside to reveal your damp, untouched pussy. He kissed you deeply, and your hands fidgeted, unsure of where to go, but he took your palm and guided it back to his erection, showing you how to stroke him in return. His breath hitched, and he groaned into your mouth. You blushed deeply, the sensations overwhelming, as he began to unbutton your shirt, eager to explore every inch of your body, to claim your innocence and make you his in every way possible.

Quickly he unzipped his pants, revealing his erect cock. You gazed at it with a mix of awe and curiosity, feeling the sticky pre-cum on your palm. His eyes never left yours as he guided your hand to wrap around his thickness. He moaned as you tentatively began to stroke him, making the movements awkward and clumsy. With gentle encouragement, he demonstrated the rhythm and pressure that felt best, his hips moving slightly to the beat of your touch. The sight of you eagerly learning how to pleasure him was almost too much to handle. He gripped your breasts, stroking your nipples through the fabric of the bra, and his breath grew ragged as your moves became faster. The room filled with the sound of his muffled moans, and your own excitement grew, the warmth and wetness between your thighs while you tried to squeeze them, moaning when you felt squeezing around your clit. With each clumsy yet earnest pump, he grew closer to the edge, his eyes shut tightly, "Sweets, keep going, you make me feel so good." Feeling your hand getting more and more sticky from his pre, you pulled away. He took your hand and guided it back to his cock, whispering, "Keep going, baby, make me cum for you." You went back to stroking him, feeling his muscles tighten and his breath become more erratic. Then, with a powerful groan, he let, the hot cum shoot onto your chest, the sensation making you jump in surprise. The sticky liquid ropes across your skin and the fabric of your bra. His eyes met yours, filled with a mix of pleasure and satisfaction, as he watched your reaction, panting heavily. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching for a tissue, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It's okay," you said shyly, "It's just… new." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he cleaned you up, "You were so perfect. Let me teach you a few more things."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

ngl I might explore this more in the future

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Tension Between Us | LN4

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n, shy and reluctant, has been resisting Lando’s advances for months. After accidentally flashing him at a gathering, their tension builds, and Y/n eventually gives in to their chemistry.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 4.7k

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

“Lando, please, stop looking at me like that,” Y/n said, her voice a mix of exasperation and something softer she couldn’t quite name. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to shield herself from the intensity of his gaze. But it was too late. He had already seen it—the way her cheeks flushed, the way her breath hitched when he leaned in just a little too close.

“Like what?” Lando smirked, his British accent curling around the words like a tease. He tilted his head, his eyes filled with desire never leaving hers. “Like I can’t believe how fucking beautiful you are?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, why did he have to be so relentless? Six months of this—six months of him showing up unexpectedly, sending her texts that made her heart race, and saying things that left her speechless. And yet, she still refused to let herself believe it. Lando Norris, F1 driver, Monaco resident, and the man who could have anyone he wanted, was pursuing her. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be real.

“You’re such a flirt,” she muttered, turning away to grab her drink from the coffee table. They were at a friend’s house, some casual gathering she hadn’t expected him to show up to. But of course, he had. He always found a way to be where she was.

“I’m not flirting,” Lando corrected, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer. “I’m stating facts. You’re stunning, Y/n. And honestly, I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

Y/n’s grip tightened on her glass. Pretending? What was he even talking about? She wasn’t the one pretending here. She was the one trying to keep her feelings locked away, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped every time he smiled or the way her skin tingled when he brushed against her. Meanwhile, Lando was… well, Lando. Confident. Charming. Persistent.

“You don’t have to pretend anything,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “But you also don’t have to say things like that just because—”

“Just because what?” he interrupted, stepping even closer until they were almost touching. His cologne—something subtle and expensive—wrapped around her, making it hard to think straight. “Because I mean it? Because I’ve been trying to get you to see that I’m serious for six months now?”

Y/n swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Lando…”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “Do you really think I’d waste my time chasing someone I didn’t want?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, there was a loud crash from the kitchen. Startled, she jumped, her drink slipping from her hand. The glass shattered on the floor, and instinctively, she bent down to start cleaning it up. She bent down to pick up the shards, her movements quick and flustered. The loose, flowy blouse she wore—soft and barely clinging to her frame—shifted with the motion. The neckline dipped lower than she realized, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing but skin. Her breasts, bare and exposed, caught the light as the fabric slipped away.

Lando froze. His breath hitched, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. The room seemed to shrink, the noise of the party fading into a distant hum. He didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t look away. The curve of her breasts, the softness of her skin—it was all so unexpected, so utterly captivating.

Y/n straightened abruptly, her face burning as she realized what had just happened. She clutched the edges of her blouse, pulling it back into place, but the damage was done. Lando’s gaze lingered, heavy and unapologetic, before slowly lifting to meet hers.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the party. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, trying to secure it, but her hands felt clumsy, betraying her nerves. She glanced up at Lando, who was staring at her with wide eyes and a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.

“Well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the couch. “That’s one way to get my attention.”

“Shut up,” Y/n hissed, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the spilled drink. But as she moved, she could feel his eyes on her, hot and heavy, and it made her heart race in a way she couldn’t ignore. She stood up abruptly, tossing the napkin onto the table. “It was an accident, okay?”

“Sure it was,” Lando said, his tone teasing but his eyes still dark with something she couldn’t quite name. He took a step toward her, his presence overwhelming. “But you know what? I’m not complaining.”

Y/n glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. How could there be when he was looking at her like that? Like she was the only person in the room. No, the only person in the world.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he shot back, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, sending a jolt of electricity through her. “But seriously, Y/n. Why do you keep pushing me away?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. Because she was scared. Because she didn’t believe someone like him could truly want someone like her. Because the thought of letting him in terrified her more than anything else.

But before she could answer, the sound of laughter from the kitchen broke the moment. Lando sighed, dropping his hand and taking a step back. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he promised, his voice soft but firm.

Y/n nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. And as she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she should take the risk. After all, Lando had spent the last six months proving he wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was time she stopped running.

---

Later that night, after most of the guests had left, Y/n found herself alone with Lando in the living room. The air between them was thick with tension, and she could feel his eyes on her as she sat on the couch, nervously playing with the hem of her shirt.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?”

Y/n’s head snapped up, her cheeks heating once again. “Nothing happened,” she insisted, though her voice wavered.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. And my imagination just decided to conjure up images of your—”

“Lando!” she interrupted, her face burning. But despite her embarrassment, there was a part of her that felt… bold. Empowered, even. He had been chasing her for months, and maybe it was time she stopped holding back.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked over to where he was sitting. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You want to talk about it? Let’s talk.”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m all ears.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her bare chest to him. Lando’s jaw dropped, his eyes locking on hers with a mixture of shock and raw desire.

“Now,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “What do you want to say?”

The room seemed to shrink as Y/n stood there, her chest exposed, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Lando’s eyes flicked down for a moment, lingering on her bare skin before snapping back up to meet hers. His smirk had faded, replaced by something far more primal.

“You really know how to make a man speechless,” he said, his voice low and filled with a warmth that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/n swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of herself. “I… I didn’t mean—”

Before she could finish, Lando reached out, his hand searing against her hip as he pulled her sharply onto his lap. She gasped, her hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance. His grip tightened, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other slid up her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

“Don’t” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, “don’t try to take it back now.”

Her heart was racing, her body betraying her resolve as she felt the heat radiating off him. She should push him away. She should stop this. But she couldn’t. Not when every part of her was screaming to stay close.

Lando’s hands moved slowly, almost reverently, over her skin. His fingertips trailed along her side, sending goosebumps in their wake, before sliding up to cup her breast. She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushed over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is this. About touching you. Making you feel good.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her nails digging into his shoulders as he leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. She wanted to speak, to say something—anything—but words failed her. All she could do was hold on as he explored her, his touch igniting a fire she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

His mouth traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along her collarbone before latching onto her breast. Her head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue swirled around her nipple, sucking gently but relentlessly. Heat pooled between her thighs, her body arching instinctively into his touch.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice shaking.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with need. “Tell me you want this.”

It wasn’t a demand—it was a plea. And in that moment, Y/n knew she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Not when every fiber of her being was crying out for him.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Lando’s face before he claimed her lips in a searing kiss. It was hungry, desperate, full of all the pent-up desire they’d both been holding onto for months. His hands roamed her body, claiming every inch of her as if he couldn’t get enough.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, and it only fueled her own need. The world outside this room ceased to exist. There was only Lando—his touch, his taste, the way he made her feel completely and utterly alive.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless. He rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers trailing down his jaw. “I think I might have some idea.”

Lando chuckled softly, his hands moving to her hips. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

Before she could respond, he stood, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. She let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him as he carried her to the couch and laid her down gently. His body hovered over hers, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Let me show you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

She nodded, her voice catching in her throat as he kissed her again, his hands exploring every inch of her body. His touch was deliberate, each movement designed to unravel her completely.

As his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, Y/n’s breath hitched. “Lando…”

“Trust me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck. “I’ll take care of you.”

And she did. In that moment, surrounded by him, she trusted him completely. When his fingers found her core, she gasped, her body arching into his touch. “Oh god…”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice achingly soft. “Let go.”

And she did, her world shattering into a thousand pieces as he brought her to the edge and pushed her over.

Lando pulled back slightly, his breath uneven as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Y/n lay there, her chest rising and falling, trying to steady herself after the intensity of the moment. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek as his lips curled into a soft smile.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You okay?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing as she tried to meet his gaze. “Yeah… I’m more than okay.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her briefly again before pulling away. But instead of resuming where they left off, Lando reached for her shirt, which had been discarded earlier in the heat of the moment. Gently, he slipped it back over her head, covering her with care. She blinked up at him, confused.

“Lando?” she questioned softly.

He sat back, running a hand through his messy curls before meeting her eyes again. His expression was warm but filled with a new resolve. “Get your stuff.”

Her brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because we’re leaving,” he said simply, standing up and offering her a hand.

---

Lando’s hand was warm against hers as he led her out of the party, fingers intertwined tightly, as if he were afraid she might slip away. The cool London air brushed against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through her body. She glanced up at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

“Where are we going?” Y/n asked, her voice trembling slightly. She already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

He turned to her, that mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “My place,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Unless you’d rather not.”

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. This was Lando Norris—charming, confident, and everything she never thought she deserved. But the look in his eyes, the way he spoke to her like she was the only person in the world, made it impossible to say no.

“I… I want to,” she admitted softly, her cheeks flushing.

His grin widened, and he pulled her closer, his free hand resting gently on her waist. “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

The car ride to his apartment was a blur. His hand never left hers, his fingers occasionally tracing patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. He kept stealing glances at her, his gaze lingering on her lips, her neck, her hands—anywhere he could touch, anywhere he wanted to touch. And every time their eyes met, the tension between them grew thicker, more intoxicating.

When they finally arrived at his building, Lando led her inside with an urgency she hadn’t expected. The elevator ride felt eternal, the silence heavy with unspoken words. She stood close to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm, and when he shifted slightly, their bodies pressed together, her breath hitched.

As soon as the doors opened, Lando tugged her toward his apartment, unlocking the door with practiced ease. He stepped inside, pulling her with him, and the moment the door closed behind them, he turned to her, his hands cupping her face.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “But I’ve waited too long to kiss you again.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, urgent and demanding. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. He tasted like mint, intoxicating and familiar, and she couldn’t help but lean into him, her body humming with need.

His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips, and he pulled her closer until there was no space left between them. She could feel the hardness of his chest against hers, the warmth of his body seeping into her skin, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes dark with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

She swallowed hard, her heart racing. “I think I have some idea,” she teased, her voice shaky but playful.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and then he was kissing her again, softer this time, more intimate. His hands wandered, exploring every inch of her as if memorizing her shape, her curves, her reactions. And when his fingers found the hem of her shirt, he paused, looking at her with a question in his eyes.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, he lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up. His eyes widened for a moment, taking in the sight of her exposed skin, the curve of her breasts, the way her nipples hardened under his gaze.

“Third time tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Still just as fucking breathtaking.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. There was something about the way he stared at her—like she was the only thing that mattered—that made her feel bold, unashamed. She arched her back slightly, letting him see more of her, and watched as his jaw tightened.

“You like what you see?” she asked, her voice low, teasing.

He let out a rough laugh, his hands sliding up her sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin just below her breasts. “Like? Y/n, I’ve been obsessed since the first time I saw you. But this…” His thumbs grazed her nipples, and she gasped. “This is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”

His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. She reached for him, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush, her bare chest pressed against his shirt. He groaned, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his palms warm and firm.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained. “How much I’ve thought about touching you, tasting you…”

She bit her lip, her hips instinctively grinding against his. “Then stop talking and show me.”

A wicked grin spread across his face, and before she could react, his mouth was on her neck, sucking and biting in a way that made her knees weak. His hands never left her breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling her nipples until she was gasping for air.

“Lando…” she moaned, her fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his lips trailing down to the curve of her breast. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “God, I want you so much.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard, and she cried out, her body arching into him. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in her body alight with pleasure. His free hand slid down to her jeans, popping the button open with ease, and she knew there was no turning back now.

He kissed her again, deep and passionate, his hands roaming freely now, teasing and tempting every part of her. And when he finally lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom, she knew there was no turning back.

The room was bathed in moonlight when he laid her down on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. He stripped off his own shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his chest, and she reached for him, eager to feel his skin against hers.

“I want you,” she confessed, her voice trembling but steady. “All of you.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You have me,” he promised, his hands sliding under her hips to remove her jeans. “Every part of me.”

As their clothes fell away, leaving nothing but skin and desire between them, Y/n realized she had never felt more herself than she did in that moment. With Lando, she wasn’t hiding, wasn’t pretending. She was just her, and that was enough.

And when he finally joined her on the bed, his body pressing into hers, she knew this was only the beginning.

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he reached the curve of her shoulder. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch like he was memorizing her. She arched into him, her fingers clutching at his back, nails lightly scraping against his skin. He groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through her.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His lips continued their descent, leaving a trail of fire down her chest until they reached the swell of her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak before taking it into his mouth. Y/n gasped, her head falling back against the pillows as pleasure shot through her.

His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he moved lower. He kissed a path down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel before he settled between her thighs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with hunger, and she could feel his breath ghosting over her most sensitive area.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling. She knew what he was about to do, and while the thought sent a thrill through her, she couldn’t wait. She needed more. Now.

He grinned, that mischievous glint in his eye she had come to adore. “Patience, love,” he teased, his fingers brushing lightly over her inner thigh. “I want to taste you.”

Her heart raced, but she shook her head, her hand reaching down to stop him. “No,” she said, her voice firmer than she expected. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Right now.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Someone’s eager,” he said, his tone playful. But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze or the way his breathing had quickened.

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his eyes, her own filled with determination. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” she reminded him, her voice low but steady. “And now… I need you. All of you.”

His smirk softened into something more tender, and he leaned up to kiss her. It was slow, deep, and full of promise. “Then you’ll have me,” he whispered against her lips. “But don’t think I won’t make you beg for it later.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hands moving to his shoulders as he positioned himself above her. Her heart pounded in anticipation, her body already aching for him. When he finally pressed into her, she gasped, her head dropping back against the pillow as pleasure coursed through her.

Lando paused, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in shallow pants. “You feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. He kissed her deeply before beginning to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge.

Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as her nails dug into his back. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the soft moans escaping her lips only spurring him on. Every touch, every movement, felt like electricity surging through her veins.

“Look at me,” Lando commanded, his voice husky but gentle. She opened her eyes, meeting his intense gaze, and found herself completely lost in him. In that moment, there was nothing else—no doubts, no fears, just the two of them, consumed by each other.

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted, his pace slowing slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “In the best way possible.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a warmth spreading through her chest. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied before capturing her lips in another searing kiss. His movements became more urgent, his hips driving into her harder, faster, until she felt herself teetering on the brink.

“Lando,” she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m so close…”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding. “I’ve got you.”

And then she was falling, stars bursting behind her eyelids as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name, her body trembling as he followed her over the edge, his own release shuddering through him.

For a moment, they lay there, still connected, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Lando brushed a kiss against her forehead, his arms holding her tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice light but affectionate.

She swatted his arm playfully, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “Only for you,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing again.

He grinned, that boyish charm that always made her heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “Because I plan on keeping you very needy.”

Y/n laughed softly, but her heart was racing for an entirely different reason now. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, and she realized she couldn’t hold back any longer. If she didn’t tell him now, she might never find the courage.

“Lando,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. His thumb brushed against her cheek, his eyes searching hers as he waited patiently. “I… I need to say something.”

“Go on,” he encouraged gently, his gaze softening.

She took a shaky breath, her hands resting against his chest. “I don’t know when it happened, but… I’ve fallen for you. Completely. I kept telling myself it was just a crush, that it would pass, but it hasn’t. And it won’t. I care about you so much, Lando, and—”

Before she could finish, his lips were on hers, silencing her words with a kiss that left her breathless. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his own emotions shining brightly in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, brushing his nose against hers. “Six months. Six painfully long months where I’ve done nothing but think about you. Wanting you. Yearning for you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you.”

Her eyes filled with tears at his confession, and she reached up to frame his face with her hands. “I wish I’d told you sooner,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Hey, none of that,” he said softly, kissing away the tear that slipped down her cheek. “We’re here now, aren’t we? That’s all that matters.”

She nodded, her heart swelling as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Lando,” she whispered, her words barely audible.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady and sure. “So much.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped up in each other and the overwhelming realization that they were finally on the same page. No more hesitations, no more holding back—just them, and a future they couldn’t wait to explore together.

[avelera]

A strong case could be made that Jayce is actually the sapiosexual one.

I think the fact that Viktor and Mel are objectively two of the most people beautiful people in the world kind of obscures this, but Jayce first heart-eyesed at Viktor when he said he wanted to help Jayce's research, he first gave Mel a rather stunned/considering look when she likewise bought in enough to Hextech to be willing to buy them a night to prove it.

But Jayce didn't sleep with Mel until after he called her a, "good teacher" and expressed how he was impressed by how she taught him to work the room at the opera, how he couldn't have done it without her.

Obviously, I think looks are a factor too, how could they not be with two stunning people like that.

But I can't help but wonder if for someone like Jayce, I dunno, he's so gorgeous himself I kinda wonder if he really doesn't see appearances as much? The people he wants to spend time with aren't, "the beautiful people" of Piltover, he wants to spend time with people who believe in Hextech and who are as smart as him if not smarter.

I also think from a fanfic perspective, it would be kind of objectively hilarious if Viktor wishes he was only sapiosexual but he isn't sapiosexual, he wants to lick Jayce's muscles so bad it sends him into a full villain arc, and it's Jayce who is the demi one who is just really into smart people who get him and that he can talk to, so all this time Viktor's been measuring himself up against this impossible standard of male beauty that is Jayce fucking Talis, he doesn't realize that it never mattered to Jayce at all, he could have looked like anything (or even like the Machine Herald?) and Jayce would have been into it because he really does love Viktor's brain more.

(I also think this would be rather hilarious in a heartwarming way for Objectively Most Beautiful Woman in the World Mel Medarda to learn that Jayce liked her looks ok, but it was really her being into Hextech and being smarter than him that won him over. I genuinely wonder how she'd process that or if it would lead to a whole extra spiral of, "Oh no he's actually a really nice person and I'm kind of falling for him what have I done?")

[doberbutts]

I also think that when I see people demanding a *unique* oppression, that they are asking for something impossible and also are very much misunderstanding intersectionality in the first place.

I don't believe any oppression is truly unique. I do think there are faces of oppression that change with the demographic, but more likely than not you as Oppressed Group X have way more in common with Oppressed Group Y than you might think.

But also, Crenshaw's original paper on intersectionality discussed a specific context: black women being skipped over for hire where black men and white women were both getting hired, making that specific context unique to the intersection of black womanhood.

People get skipped over for jobs they are more than qualified for all the time. Even within the paper itself, there is discussion about this happening to black men and white women at other companies, just that this specific company was excluding specifically black women from its pool of candidates due to their specific bias against black women.

Experiencing workplace discrimination and hiring discrimination is not at all unique to black women. The *context* was. It was not "just racism" because black men were being hired, and it was not "just misogyny" because white women were getting hired. It was the intersection of both that resulted in black women being excluded.

When a trans man states that he is being removed from, say, a reproductive rights conversation and it's happening specifically because he is a trans man, what's meant shouldn't be that no one else struggles with reproductive rights. It means that it's not happening to the cis women who are actively leading the conversation, nor is it happening to the cis men who are pitching in. It is, however, happening to anyone with a uterus who is deemed as too "gender devient" to count: trans men, trans women, intersex people, and nonbinary people. Albeit, for different reasons, and the face of which changes depending on the demographic of the person receiving it.

But the conversation around reproductive rights is also one that must include disability, must include race, must include sexuality, must include class, must include age, because these things also have a direct effect on discrimination within the medical field and whether someone truly has access to the autonomy needed to make reproductive choices of their own without others choosing for them.

Similar to how we can understand the context provided in Crenshaw's coining of intersectionality to examine how black women specifically were experiencing something that neither black men nor white women were victim to within that specific example, so too must we understand that these are contextual and circumstantial conversations that will not always be truly unique.

After all, black men and white women do both get rejected for jobs on account of race and gender. Cis women and other marginalized genders frequently must battle for their right to make their own reproductive choices.

But when someone says "this happened to me due to the combination of my race and my gender", we must understand that likely the combination, the intersection, created a unique scenario that cannot be understood by only examining a single piece of that person's identity. So, too, must we understand the same when someone says "this happened due to the combination of my transness and my gender".

So when I see a challenge to name something unique from someone also flinging around the "learn intersectionality" phrase at those who are trying to describe the things that happened to them that hurt them, all I can think is that clearly that person does not understand interaectionality. Nor have they ever actually read the words of the woman who coined it. She's still alive. Her TED talks are on YouTube. Many of her essays are online for free.

Finally, I must remind these people that Crenshaw is not the woman who coined misogynoir, and while both Crenshaw's and Bailey's theories do work in conversation with each other, being discussed by different people does mean there is not a 1-to-1 basis to compare them to. There will be disagreements and inconsistencies between the two because they are two different people.

[ennabear]

Gentle/soft sevika… im starving, lord have mercy

^also im the important exam anon! I dont know how i did in that day since the results would take 2 more weeks minimum, but im pretty sure whether it turns out too good or too bad than usual its thanks to you, imma keep you updated! I also think i did good because replaying what you wrote in my brain was just a the best kind of rewards^

IMPORTANT EXAM ANON HAIII!!!! i’m sure you did good hehe idk who you are or what you’re going to school for but i believe that you’re very smart… BUT THANK YOU!!! i’m so honored heheheh 😭 here’s some soft sevika 🤎🤎

everyone always thinks that sevika is aggressive and scary, especially because she can be on occasion. but in reality, you’ve never really seen her that way.

all of sevika’s violence and crimes are done outside of the walls of your shared home, as far away from them as she can manage. most of her killings and fights are done in a dark alleyway in the middle of nowhere, or closer to topside, where although it’s risky to be so close to those stuck ups who’ve never witnessed a crime before, she always gets away with it.

and she never does it out of cold blood. she only lays her hands on someone if they’ve wronged her first.

to you, her hands are the softest thing in the world. well— hand, technically, because she only has one human hand left. but both of them, whether flesh or metal, treat you with the greatest care possible.

late at night, they can be found wrapped around you, either holding you to her chest in a tight snuggle or pinning you to the bed while she snores on top of you. sometimes her metal fingers will trace little shapes into your back, the pointy tips of them making you shiver as she slowly lulls you to sleep.

sometimes she forgoes her mech arm completely, you being the only person she feels comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. still, her human arm will cling to your hips or your waist as you move around the house. whether that means doing chores or washing yourselves up or taking a well deserved afternoon nap on the couch.

sometimes she’ll even cry in front of you if she feels safe enough— which of course she does around you. you’re the only person on the whole planet who knows about her past and the things that still do scare her. like losing you, for example.

her favorite thing in the world is crying with you, although it seems dark. but to her, it’s like she finally feels seen. whether you’re crying over the same thing or just being mutually sad together, she loves to comfort you and feel it back at the same time. neither of you can even stay sad for long, because the other is trying to cheer you up by making you laugh or crack a smile, and it always ends in two teary-eyed giggles bubbling through the room.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny, just got broken up with so anything to fix a broken heart would be amazing but highly need Lando Norris to be the situation.

Maybe best friends to lovers, kinky kinky good shit

heartbreak heaven

lando norris

tags: smut & fluff, friends-to-lovers, jealousy, sweet talk, break ups

a/n: i'm so sorry about that anon! break-ups are always the hardest, but i promise it does get a lot better! i hope you love this fic and maybe it soothes some of the ache from the heartbreak! i gave it a mix of romantic, fluffy, smutty goodness! - word of advice: chocolate is a great medicine for a heartbreak!

"that's crazy! i can't believe he did that." lando said as he leaned over and grabbed another tissue from the box on the coffee table, "we should kill him."

you looked at him, unamused as you took the tissue from him, "not funny, lando." you remarked as you wiped your eyes, "i can't believe he did that. he just up and left, he said that he could do it anymore. do what? am i that bad of a catch?" you huffed as you balled up the tissue, "stupid prick."

"ah well, his loss." he remarked. he was comfortable next to you on the couch with his arm draped over the back of it, "you'll get 'em next time, tiger."

you leaned up against him and exhaled deeply, "thanks, lando. nice to have a friend like you." then let out a small chuckle.

lando let you lay up against him and threw an arm around you. he sighed, "yeah... friend."

you had known lando for a while, since the karting days. your older brother was a racer, and while he didn't make it pro, you still remained closed to lando. you two were the same age and it was a a simple friendship. except lando didn't see it that way, when he was younger he never thought about happily ever afters and marriage. but, when you were around, even when you cheered on your brother, lando thought about you being mrs. norris. but time wasn't kind to him and after what felt like a dozen boyfriends, you were once again in lando's arms with tears in your eyes.

"you can do better." he said lowly, "so much better, you have no idea." he leaned in a little closer, his arm snaked around you, "how about someone who knows what the hell they're doing. to make you feel special, to please you."

"like oscar?" you asked a little oblivious.

lando sighed before he looked you in the eyes, "no... like me." before he captured your lips in his and wrapped both arms around you shoulders.

when he pulled away, he looked at you once more. and you stared back at him with shocker, "what!?" you asked and he felt heat in his cheeks.

"i can explain-"

you pulled him in for a tight kiss once more before you held onto his shoulders tightly. you felt the excitement through both of your bodies, he pressed his forehead up against yours with his eyes closed before he asked, "bedroom?"

lando know the layout of your flat like the back of his hand. he took you by the hand and led you towards your bedroom. he flicked on the lights and you led him further into your domain. the white rug, the string lights, the soft bed with the stuffed animals on it, which included a stuffed dog that he picked up for you while overseas.

"you look good you know, even with all your runny make up." he joked, "in order to really love a girl you gotta see her in her most comfortable." it didn't help that you were in sleeping shorts and a mclaren t-shirt (another gift from lando). and then started to get his t-shirt off. you did the same to your own shirt, lando eyed the shape of your body under the t-shirt.

you looked away for a moment and asked, "does it look bad?"

lando shook his head, "oh, no way. you look.... beautiful. what the fuck were these guys thinking? obviously a waste of a beautiful woman." his hands went to the belt on his black jeans, "i have a theory, that when a guy sees a woman as beautiful as you. they get intimidated. scared little boys." he chuckled.

"because you were always scared to ask me out?"

lando nodded, "yeah, but... i can't help myself anymore. if i see you with one more guy, i'm going to crash my car into them... i want you." he practically fell to his knees in front of you while you sat on the bed. he placed a large hand on your thigh, "i can't take it anymore, i want you. i need you. i want to be with you."

you took him by the face and gazed into his beautiful eyes. you ran your thumb across his bottom lip and nodded, "then after this.. you show me all the other ways a proper man should treat a woman."

lando took you by the hand and pushed your wrist up against his face, he exhaled deeply and said, "of course... every way i can."

you both were soon up by the pillows, lando's large hands on you as he held onto your shoulders to kiss you. the kiss was heavy, near bruising on your lips. the bed shifted under the both of you as you stripped of your clothes. you were left bare for lando as he felt up your skin.

he took in the sight of you, enough distance to admire your face and body, you looked heavenly, like a divine being. laid out on the soft covers of your bed. the male species must be a bunch of goddamn idiots. he laid you out on the bed, he admired your beauty as he felt you up. he swallowed and said, "beautiful, you know that right? beauty beyond words." then laughed a little as he captured your lips with his once more.

"please, lando." you reached over into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom, "no ifs, ands, or buts." and lando took it happily. it was quite erotic seeing lando put on a condom. it arose something in you, you couldn't quite put into words. and then when he was back between your legs once more. you smiled up at him and said, "you look good with one on."

"better safe than sorry." he remarked, "now, relax... i've been waiting for this for a long, long time." his childhood friend, his first crush, was now under him on her bed all spread out and perfect for him. one hand on his cock and another on your hip, he slowly sank into you and felt a shudder through his body. it felt hot, very hot.

"how does it feel?" you asked, for a moment you were self conscious. you knew that lando could have any woman he wanted, there were tons of grid bunnies, models and beyond who would die for a piece of lando. it made you feel a little self conscious in yourself.

"how does it feel? it feels amazing, fuck. you feel as good as you look. holy shit." he chuckled softly, "you have no idea what you do to me. all the times i thought about you. yearned for you. the longest crush i've ever had." he said as he held your hips and continued to move against you.

"no need to flatter me, lando. you already have me." then yelped when lando hiked your hips up a little bit.

lando chuckled as he moved against you faster, "i love when you say that, how that sounds on your tongue. your sweet voice telling me that i have you. but call me greedy, beautiful, because i want all of you." his pace quickened and he leaned in further towards you.

"fuck, lando." you groaned. you wondered where he learned those words. you felt the shudder through you as the pleasure continued to course through you, the patter of your heart grew as he continued to love you.

"that's it, angel. that's it." he groaned as he rutted against you, "jesus christ, you're beautiful. you have no idea what you do to me. fuck, i could name all the times i saw you and my jaw dropped."

"flirt." you moaned.

"only for you, angel." he said as he continued to move, his pace was rather feverish the more he needed you. you held onto his shoulders and he loved the feeling of your nails in his tanned shoulders. it only made him yearn for you more as he rutted against you. he could feel the heat in his cheeks and the pleasure cloud his thoughts.

it was hard to think of much else when he was buried in his sweet cunt. your cunt made him wild as he moved. he wanted more, no, he needed more. more of you, more of his first and only crush. no matter how many trophies he won, to have you in his arms was worth more than that.

he kissed you once more, and you held his face. you tried to meet his pace as his cock worked inside of you. it was hot between you two, you could feel the heat at your temples as you kept your legs up to keep him fucking you.

you tensed up at the feeling, at his words. when he pulled away from the kiss, you two gazed at one another. you didn't think that you'd ever be with lando, but there he was. he gazed at you with a heated want as the two of you continued to move against one another. it felt electric, hot in a way that made your core swirl.

he was erotic, painfully hot. you felt the pleasure grow in your body. it was something else, a totally different feeling. you groaned, "fucking hell, lando."

lando beamed down at you and continued to fuck you. the kisses continued soon after and he felt the fire in his gut from the want from you. you were beyond perfect, he knew that. the way your pussy took him left him hungry for more.

"you're amazing." he said lowly, "so perfect."

"not as perfect as you." you said as you kissed him on the cheek, your hands in his hair as the two of you fucked against one another with a heated passion. the fire between the both of you as you two rutted against one another.

the pleasure only bloomed in your gut as he moved against you and you moved against him. you moved together in a sort of harmony. a perfect pace of one another as the pleasure moved through both of you. it felt like heaven and it made your toes curl at the feeling.

it didn't take much longer before you held onto him and came around his cock. your cutn clenched around his cock and he rutted against you further. the two of you moved against one another heavily. the pleasure only crashed over you, and then soon after it crashed over him and he came inside of the condom. he groaned into your shoulder as he finished. you held onto him closely and the two of you continued to move against one another.

he groaned against your skin and felt the fire in his soul. it felt amazing, and as he slowed to a stop. he admired you. he saw the expression on your face and your features, the same features he loved growing up. the two of you kissed one another before lando laid in bed beside of you. he held your face when he kissed you again.

you giggled against him then pulled away. you two looked at one another and you wrapped an arm around him. you asked, "how was that?"

"oh perfect." he chuckled as he held your face, "beyond perfect." he looked at you closely and felt a sense of relief in his body. he kissed you once more then said, "i want you for the rest of my life."

and who were you say no? <3

[hinamie]

self-indulgent sukuna sheet

[puppyeared]

this place is so fruity

[valtsv]

an angle i enjoy in cosmic/eldritch horror is when, instead resorting to the old classic "the horrors being so incomprehensible that they break your brain and drive you mad" cliché, the premise is that in comprehending the horrors you are so changed by the experience that your new state is indistinguishable to an outside observer from madness. you comprehend the unknowable just fine, but actually communicating that to anyone else is impossible because they just don't have the mental framework required to understand it. the eldritch horrors don't drive you mad. what does is the ordinary everyday horror of finding yourself isolated, ridiculed and doubted at every turn, no matter how hard you try to make yourself heard and understood.

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.