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rafesteddy · 3 months ago

Note

Can we get dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Max lets it slip to rafe that his buddies ogle and find milf!reader so hot when they saw her pick up Max and Winnie from school a few times? You can choose how it goes afterwards!! I love your writing of their fam saurrrrr much

awe thank you bb 💕 I'm so glad you like it 🤭🤭🤭 sorry this one got a little long—but I hope you enjoy 😋💕 This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au.

+18 -> smut

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: teenage boys being gross, jealous rafe, swearing, ownership kink, possessive rafe, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstim., squirting, fingering, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, dirty talk, spanking, lots of cum, female oral (post-shared climax)

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You lean into the counter, absentmindedly squeezing lemon after lemon into the glass pitcher. Cold juices run down your fingers, sticky as it slips into the creases of your palms and drips to your wrists. The whole kitchen smells like sugar and citrus, with that warm, buttery hint of cookies still cooling behind you.

The plate’s already half gone, devoured by teenage boys lounging in the common space: tall, tan, loud, sprawled across your furniture like they own the place.

“Sugar, please?” You ask, gesturing toward Kelce’s son, perched in front of the one cabinet you need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, flashing you a grin as he hops down to grab it.

His hand brushes yours as he passes it off. You smile, polite and sweet as ever, returning to stir the mix.

“Fuck, she wants me,” he mutters to Max—just out of earshot.

Your son groans, tipping his head back against the cabinet. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Why else would she be in here squeezin’ her lemons?” Tripp groans, dragging the sentence out like it’s a double entendre.

“You’re still goin’, huh? Not scared?”

“M’not scared of shit—”

Before Max can answer, the door opens with a thud.

“Hi, Mom!” Winnie calls, sandals slapping the marble as she breezes in. Her boyfriend Jackson’s behind her, arms full, carrying the twins, still damp from the sprinkler, dressed like they’re headed out.

“Is it cool if we take the twins out for ice cream?” Winnie asks. Her tone’s breezy, but she looks sharply toward one of Max’s friends eyeing her up.

That same boy yelps when Max nails him in the arm. “M’gonna fuckin’ kill you,” he mutters, while the kid doubles down, clearly unbothered, shooting his shot at your daughter like it’s all just part of the game.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say, crossing the counter for your purse.

“Mrs. Cameron, really—I’ve got it,” Jackson says, voice firm.

“That’s very sweet. But not necessary… Thanks for taking them off my hands.” You kneel in front of the twins gently brushing back your daughter’s curls; cupping your son’s cheek lovingly. “You two be good for your sister and Jackson, okay?”

You lean in to kiss their cheeks, and without realizing it, your sundress shifts. The neckline dips, your breasts press softly together, the hem lifts just enough to tease. You linger, whispering something about sprinkles and chocolate.

Behind you, the room goes silent.

One boy swallows hard. Another just stares—slack-jawed—like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Max… Dude. This is your life?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Max mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’d move in tomorrow,” Tripp grins. “Be your stepdad today.”

“Bet she tastes like sugar—”

“I said shut up,” Max snaps, louder this time.

Just then, another boy walks in from the hallway, Trevor. He catches sight of you, still bent low in front of the twins, and freezes. Smiling like the goddamn Cheshire Cat, he lifts both hands like he’s gripping your hips and starts thrusting the air behind you in slow-motion silence.

The other boys lose it—coughing, choking on laughter, trying and failing to keep it together.

You straighten up, sundress swaying back into place as you smooth it down with both hands, blissfully unaware.

“All right, go have fun,” you sing out, waving them toward the door.

You turn back to the pitcher, lift it to the sink, and flip the tap without thinking.

Water churns—lemon juice and sugar swirling, rising to the rim—as your gaze drifts out the kitchen window. And then you see him. Rafe…

His white t-shirt’s soaked through, hose in hand as he rinses down the G-Wagon. Sunlight turns the spray to glitter. Water drips down his arms, soaking the cotton clinging to every curve and cut of his chest and abs.

He turns, flipping his hat backward with one hand, jaw flexing as he wipes his brow.

Your thighs press together. Grip tightening on the pitcher just as the lemonade spills over, cold and sticky down your wrist. You fumble the tap, blinking fast, but your eyes don’t leave him.

His shirt clings to his back, practically painted on, while his blue swim trunks ride low on his hips and high on his thighs.

One hand coils the hose, and the other grabs the wash bucket. His chest flexes with every move, muscles rolling under wet cotton like sin in motion.

“Have fun, boys,” you call out, pouring lemonade into a glass, still watching him.

The front door clicks shut as you step outside barefoot. The grass is crisp beneath your feet; sun shining hot on your shoulders.

Rafe looks up the second he hears you. His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh shit, pretty,” he drawls, eyes dragging down your body. “That for me?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, offering him the glass—but he doesn’t take it. He steps closer, warm, wet arm curling around your waist, pulling you flush to him like he can’t help it. His mouth finds yours instantly—hot and slow. Your fingers hook behind his neck, greedy for more.

You giggle into the kiss, breathless. “How much longer?”

Rafe pulls back just enough to smirk, water dripping down his temple “What? You want somethin’, baby?”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ 15 minutes earlier…

The garage is quiet at first—just the clatter of golf clubs and the squeak of a sponge as Rafe scrubs the green off his chipping wedge. The radio hums softly from the corner, low and easy. But that peace doesn’t last.

Beer bottles clink inside the fridge; ice rattles in the machine. And just around the corner from where Rafe sits, the boys start talking their shit like they don’t have a care in the world.

“I’m done,” your son mutters—tone flat and fed up like he’s been saying all day.

“Not my fault your mom’s hot as fuck, Maxi.” One of the boys fires back, voice deep and smug. “M’just waitin’ for the day she gets stuck in the washer. I’ll pound her shit right there—”

“Fuck you,” Max hisses. There’s a sharp thud and a groan; Max hits his friend hard enough to give him a moment's peace from him, but it doesn’t stop the rest of them.

“Did you see her in that swimsuit the other day? Playing with the twins? That bikini? She’s still got an ass on her. Those tits too?” Trevor chimes in, practically drooling. “I wanna play with her twins. Slide my dick right between ‘em—”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Max growls.

“Hey, you fucked my sister, Max. Both of ‘em. Think I get to tug one to your mom… every night—”

“She’s so hot, bro. Like stupid hot,” another pipes up. “Your dad doesn’t deserve that. He can’t keep up. Can’t handle all that. His stamina’s gotta be shot.”

“She made me cookies like it was foreplay,” one of them says, breathy and laughing. “You think she ever looks at us and wonders…”

“She made cookies for my dad,” Max mutters.

“Yeah. That’s what I said—”

And then Rafe clears his throat, loud and measured. The sound slices through the room like a blade. So quiet you could hear the soft clink of a stolen beer cap hitting the concrete.

The boys scatter like mice out the side door and back into the house. Their smug laughter from moments before dies on their lips, replaced by frantic whispers of “do you think he heard” and the squeak of boat shoes skidding across the floor.

“Come here,” Rafe says, low and calm.

Max exhales hard, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. His shoulders drawn up to his ears as he drags himself across the garage floor.

“You wanna explain what that was?” Rafe asks without looking at him, voice steady as he cleans his club.

Max shrugs, sullen. “I mean, you heard it.”

“Yeah… I heard everything—”

“Every fuckin’ day,” Max mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anytime we’re at the house. I try shutting it down—it’s impossible.”

“They were talking about your mother,” Rafe says. “You just gonna let that fly?”

“They’re fuckin’ idiots,” Max scoffs. “Just givin’ me shit. They’re not gonna do anything. And what am I supposed to do, huh? Beat the shit out of every guy who opens his mouth about mom?”

“Nah,” Rafe says, smiling without humor. “They’ll get the hint some way or another.”

“Well that’s not horrifying,” Max mumbles, giving him a side-eye—because he knows damn well Rafe might handle this himself.

“She’s not just your mom, you know. She’s my wife,” Rafe says, nodding toward the garage door. “So yeah. I know exactly how hot she is.”

“Ew.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rafe grins. “I just had to listen to that perverted pissin’ contest over your mother. And Trevor’s sister? Really?”

“…Sisters,” Max murmurs, not meeting Rafe’s eye.

He cringes, face twisting in the exact same way his son’s had moments earlier. “Aren’t you dating Top’s daughter?”

“They’re Trevor’s sisters,” Max repeats. “Doesn’t count.”

Rafe stares at him. “And what’s the math on that? It doesn’t count? You serious?”

Max shrugs, then deflects. “Hey—remember who the enemy is here, alright? He was talkin’ about Mom.”

That earns a dry laugh. Rafe crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, still giving Max a look like this conversation’s not over.

“I like that excuse better,” he breathes. “Y’all headin’ out?”

“Mhmm,” Max hums, already inching toward the door like he’s trying to disappear. “Just gonna grab some snacks.”

“Yacht Club?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, eyes on the exit.

“Be safe,” Rafe says, a little quieter now.

Max mumbles something back as he pushes into the house, and the door shuts behind him with a soft thud.

Rafe doesn’t move. He just stands there for a second, staring at nothing, letting the quiet settle. He knows what he feels. Always has. He just doesn’t always want to name it.

He used to love the attention. The looks. The envy. Part of him still does. When you were younger, his friends couldn’t keep their eyes off you. Couldn’t help the comments, the sideways glances. And he loved it—loved knowing that no matter how many mouths whispered your name, it was his bed you came home to.

You were his. All his. Always. But this? This was different. Hearing that kind of shit from teenagers—his son’s idiot friends, their mouths full of his food, beers stolen from his fridge, spending long, lazy days on his boat—no. It didn’t feel flattering. It felt like a fucking insult.

The way they talked about you was like you were some option. Like if given half a chance, they’d step right into his role. As if they could touch you. As if they could handle a woman like you. His wife. It pissed him off. And he knew it shouldn’t—not like this.

It wasn’t new. It wasn’t shocking. But today? It got under his skin in a different way. Raw and hot and fucking personal.

He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. This is what happens when your wife is you. People want you. They always have.

He laughs under his breath—half at himself, half at the absurdity of it all—and reaches for the sponge and bucket again. He wasn’t gonna fight them. He didn’t need to. There were better ways to remind them where they stood.

They wanted to act grown? Act like they could love you, care for you, fuck you like a man? Fine. Let them watch. Let them see what a real man does.

Rafe lets the door swing shut behind him and strolls across the drive, relaxed, deliberate. His gaze lifts straight to the window above the sink—and there you are, stepping into frame like you were waiting for your cue.

Rafe squeezes the hose handle, blasting water against the side of the G-Wagon. He shifts a little closer, just enough to let the spray bounce back misting his skin, ricocheting off the glossy paint.

The sun is hot, but the water is cool against his skin. The soaked fabric clings to the muscles of his chest and abs. He tugs his shorts a little higher on his thighs, watching the droplets slide down his body.

Then he smiles again—cocky and quiet—as he pulls the oldest trick in the book: flipping his cap from front to back like he’s not thinking about it at all.

Next, his shirt. He peels it off slowly and casually and tosses it aside, revealing his tan, chiseled frame. The gold chain with your initial catches the light.

“Five�� four… three…” Bang. The door claps shut. He chuckles to himself, smug, reading you like a favorite book. He doesn’t even have to look to know it’s you. But he does.

Rafe glances over his shoulder as he hears your bare feet brushing through the grass; sundress swaying in the summer breeze. And then he sees you, glass of lemonade in hand, eyes already locked on him like he’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

“Look at you,” he mutters, watching you float closer. You took the bait. You always do. And he lives for it.

He spots movement through the glass, Max’s friends still inside, lingering, pretending not to watch.

Rafe praises you as he always does, a breathy “mhmm” buzzing past your lips is the only thing passing before he’s kissing you deep, hot, and possessive—right there in the driveway, letting them see. Letting them know who you belong to. How good you fit in his arms. How easily he could take you wherever and whenever he wanted.

He pulls back just enough to breathe you in; Rafe brushing his lips across yours like he can’t stop touching you. His big hand drifts lower, sliding over the slight curve of your back before grabbing a handful of ass—firm, slow, and so intentional it makes your breath catch.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You laugh quietly, barely holding it in. His shirt’s been tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm and bare against yours, that heavy gold chain glinting faintly against his chest.

The teenage boys barrel out of the house, faster than usual. Lugging the cooler through the grass as they look anywhere but at you.

“Where are you headed?” Rafe calls out, still holding your waist.

“Told you—yacht club,” Max grits, like a chore.

“Yacht club, huh?” Rafe echoes. “Sounds real productive. Why don’t y’all finish cleanin’ the car before you go burnin’ my gas?”

“Dad, seriously?” Max groans, letting the cooler drop to the grass with a thud.

“You’re about to torch another five hundred dollars of fuel,” Rafe says, grinning as he jams the sponge into one of the boys’ chests hard. “Don’t even get me started on yesterday. Three-fifty in food, six bottles of cheap-ass liquor—none of which I’d let past my lips or hers… It’s the least you can do.”

“Pretty sure that was all Winnie—”

“Spare me the bullshit,” Rafe drawls, his Southern accent soaked in judgment, cutting like his smirk.

“Since when are you washin’ cars anyway?” Max mutters, dunking a sponge into the soapy bucket. You try not to giggle but you can’t help it. Rafe’s flair for the dramatics is so visible in Max it’s like looking in a mirror.

Rafe laughs as well, already turning back to you. He reaches up, wiping a drop of water from your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips—gentler this time, like he’s taking back the moment before their arrival.

“Now what did you need, baby?” Rafe murmurs as the boys start scrubbing the truck. You glance up at him, feeling nothing but butterflies. Rafe bites his lip slightly, head tilted slightly, making your brain short-circuit. “Name it, princess,” he mumbles, thumb tracing slow, possessive circles on the small of your back.

“You.”

That one word has him grinning, dark and knowing. “You want me, huh?” He mutters, voice dropping an octave. “Alright. Do somethin’ for me.”

“Anything…”

“Go on back inside. Head to the guest room. Get on the bed, just like this. Don’t take a single thing off,” he adds. “I wanna take it off you. You think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah… yeah, baby,” you murmur, lifting up just enough to press your mouth to his.

He leans in, lips lingering like he’s already counting down the seconds. “Beautiful,” he mutters, voice low, that crooked grin spreading as his hand lands on your ass with a lazy smack. “I’ll be right behind you— ”

“Love you, Max! Have fun, boys. Be safe,” you call out, voice bright and sweet as you disappear toward the house.

The driveway shifts the second the door closes, all the sunshine snuffed out the second you’re gone. The boys go silent, scrubbing like their lives depend on it.

Rafe’s shadow stretches long across the driveway. He folds his arms over his broad chest as he surveys the group, his gaze unreadable—far colder than anger.

“Yacht club, huh?” He says, nodding toward the cooler. “Gonna load up the boat? Burn my gas, drink my liquor, make some memories? I hope y’all have fun,” Rafe adds, and if they didn’t know any better, they might think he means it.

“Thanks, Mr. Camer—”

“Maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Rafe cuts in, clean and easy. “Pick up a few country club girls: pearls, spray tans; the kind who won’t notice your hands shakin’ while you fumble with their bras.”

A nervous chuckle slips out, quickly catching Rafe’s glare, his lips curling into a fake smile.

“You’ve seen my wife, yeah?” He asks casually. “Beautiful. Fuckin’ stunning actually. Prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

He looks back at the house giving the boys a moment to breathe before shifting his sights to them again.

“I’ve been working since I was eighteen. Built this house. That boat. Everything you boys use like it’s yours.” He leans in slightly, voice tightening. “And even after all that—I don’t deserve her.”

That hits. You can see it land—all of them blinking like they’ve just been slapped across the face.

“So what makes you think you do?”

“We were just joking, Mr. Cameron. I swear—”

“That’s my wife,” Rafe snaps. The words hit like thunder in their chests. “Mine. Always has been. Always will be. And I don’t give a shit if you go home and jerk off thinkin’ about her—hell, that fantasy’s older than any of you.”

His smile returns, slow and razor-sharp. “But if you say another word—if you breathe another comment about something you’ll never fuckin’ touch…”

He steps forward, and they shrink; stepping toward Max is self-preservation. His eyes zero in on Trevor. The kid nods before Rafe says another word, like he’s praying it’s enough to stay alive. “I’ll make sure the only thing you’re sliding into is a fuckin’ ditch. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Trevor stammers.

Rafe claps a hand on his back hard. The slap echoed through the grounds, making the boy stumble forward with a wheezing gasp.

Then, just like that, Rafe turns and walks away. Calm and steady, like it didn’t happen. He passes Max on the way back to the house, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Love you, kid.”

“L-Love you too,” Max mutters, the lot of them holding their breath until he’s gone for good.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴

You shift on the bed the second he walks in, soft and shy, biting your lip as your eyes meet his. His gaze darkens instantly, heat rolling off him like a wave.

“I know I changed…” You murmur, voice gentle as a pout tugs at your lips.

The robe’s already falling off your shoulders. Just hanging there. Lace underneath—barely visible, but that’s the point. One leg crossed, stockings tight on your thighs, garters showing just enough to make him stop breathing.

Rafe’s tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip as his eyes roam over you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

He’s already hard, straining against the front of his swim trunks, jaw tight as his fists curl at his sides—like it’s taking everything in him not to rip that robe off you.

“Baby… Don’t apologize. Not when you look that fuckin’ good for me.”

Rafe steps closer, making your thighs part without thinking, giving him room, inviting him in. His hands slide up your legs—rough palms dragging higher—his thumbs hooking under the garter straps, snapping them against your skin.

“You bought this for me, didn’t you? Knew I’d lose my mind over this. Fuck, you know me too well…”

Your pussy clenches at the raw need in his tone. You toy with the satin belt at your waist, slowly teasingly letting the knot fall loose. The robe slips open completely as you lean back, arching your back, tits round in the pretty lingerie.

“Fuck... You don’t even realize what you do to me. The way you picked this out thinkin’ of me? Wantin’ me to see you like this?”

He kisses you, soft and slow, then starts to trail lower—his mouth brushing along your jaw, every touch unhurried, deliberate. His hand glides up your thigh and grips tight, spreading you open. His eyes are sharp, blue, and hungry—fixed on yours.

“Rafe…” You whine, already feeling your thoughts blur.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you for them,” he groans, hardly holding himself together. “Make sure they never look at you the same. Make sure they know it’s me in your head when you close your eyes. You know what they’ll never have?” He whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“This. This soft little mouth. These legs wrapped around them. This sweet pussy drippin’ for them.” His voice drops even lower. “All mine.”

You blink up at him, a little crease forming between your brows like you’re trying to figure him out

He lets out this low breath, almost a laugh, but not really. “Fuck, you’re perfect… You don’t even see anyone else, do you?”

“Who, baby?” You whisper.

He scoffs, low and humorless as he tugs down his trunks, tossing them to the floor. “You should’ve heard what they were sayin’ about you.”

“Rafe…” You blink. “Is everything okay?”

Your words tip up into a gasp as he pushes you back suddenly, one knee sinking into the bed, his body climbing over yours. “Those boys,” he mumbles. “They want you.”

“Max’s friends?” You gasp as your face twists in disgust; eyes flicking toward the door.

Rafe grabs your cheeks, forcing your focus back to him. His fingers slip under the lace and he groans—low and guttural—when he feels how wet you are.

“Already soaked,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’ve been sittin’ here all sweet and innocent, like nothin’s goin’ on—when your pussy’s this fuckin’ desperate for me. Say you're mine… Who do you belong to?”

You whimper, breath hitching as he slips your panties to the side and drags two fingers through your slick slowly, savoring every second.

“Say it,” he demands, his forehead pressing to yours; hand working you open.

“You,” you whisper. “I belong to you—”

“That’s right… Mine to spoil. Mine to love. Mine to fuck.”

You go to touch him, but he grabs your wrists before you get the chance. Forces them up over your head, holding you there. His body presses into yours and when his hand slides down your thigh, it pulls a shiver straight out of you. “Uh-uh, angel. Not yet.”

His fingers curl just right, pressing into that spot that makes your hips jolt off the sheets. He keeps it slow, steady—watching your face with quiet adoration. He’s memorized every flutter of your lashes, every soft gasp that slips from your swollen lips. He knows what it takes… what you crave. And he knows you’re close.

“You’re gonna come for me, pretty,” he murmurs. “Just like this—”

You nod rapidly, falling apart not a moment later. “Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, trembling as your pussy clenches around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps working you through it, fucking you with his fingers until you’re gasping into his mouth, thighs twitching, hips jerking away from the overstimulation. You reach for his wrist, gripping tight, trying to slow him down—but he groans against your lips, loving how little it takes for him to unravel you.

He catches the lace of your panties and rips them clean off, the tear sharp and sudden. The sound snaps through the room, and your legs twitch from the jolt.

Rafe pulls you off the bed, guiding you right where he wants you, not wasting a moment. “Hands on the glass,” he says, voice rough as he unhooks your bra with one practiced flick. His other hand clamps around your waist, steadying you.

You press your palms to the glass, cool beneath you. Your reflection stares back: hair a mess, lips wet, chest rising fast—tits bare as you beg for more, fighting to keep your eyes open already as they flutter shut.

“Eyes on me,” Rafe whispers roughly, his chest pressed to your back now; hips flush against your ass.

He pushes into you slowly, giving you every delicious inch, your greedy pussy pulling him in. “Shit, baby… You’re tight.” Rafe grinds in deeper, hand splayed across your stomach as he holds you there, impaled on his thick cock. “This,” he pants, dragging back and slamming in again. “This is my pussy. My house. My fuckin’ wife.”

Rafe sets a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, lewd and filthy. He spanks your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward into the glass.

“Let ‘em hear it,” he growls. “Let those little bastards outside hear what I do to you.”

Your body trembles with every ruthless thrust; the mirror rattles under your grip, the sharp slaps of skin echoing round the room.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Rafe grits out, voice rough and hoarse.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice breaking as the knot in your belly coils tight, ready to snap.

“Yeah?” He growls, dragging you closer, rough hands holding you right where he wants you. “Then fuckin’ give it to me.”

One arm binds around your waist while the other slips down, fingers working your clit in rough, relentless circles that make your legs shake. “Show me what I do to you.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your body jerks—cunt clamping down around him. You peel your eyes open, desperate to see him. And there he is in the mirror behind you: jaw tight, lip caught between his teeth as his hips slam into you again and again.

“Good girl,” he snarls, not letting up for a second. “You ain’t done yet.”

Rafe yanks you upright, chest to back, one big hand wrapping gently around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw as he fucks you deep and hard—so deep it’s almost too much.

You break with a choked sob, another orgasm tearing through you so hard your vision blurs. You go limp in his arms, legs shaking, body spent. He doesn’t let go. Just grunts out a rough “Fuck, baby,” right against your neck as his hips pump forward. One last thrust and he’s coming, cock throbbing inside you, breath hot on your skin.

You feel every pulse of it, thick and messy, spilling deep as he holds you there, buried and shaking, not ready to move.

Rafe nuzzles into your cheek, soft kisses dusting your jaw as your breath comes out in shattered little gasps. He listens to every sound. “You still with me, baby?” He murmurs, peeking over your shoulder with a teasing smirk.

“Barely,” you whisper, still catching your breath as you slump into his chest.

He lets out a soft laugh, mouth skimming the edge of your lips. “That smile,” he mutters, voice thick. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let your eyes fall shut, head resting against him.

He slips out of you slow, gentle to the last second, then gathers you up without a word. Carries you back to the bed like you weigh nothing, sets you down easy, and smooths your hair from your face with the back of his hand. Just stands there for a beat, staring like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Rafe…” you breathe, voice soft and pathetic, so sweet it nearly breaks him. He smiles, crawling between your thighs. “You gonna tell me you can’t take another?” He whispers, hands sliding under your knees, pushing your thighs open wide. “Yes, you can… You always do.”

Rafe kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, mouth warm against your sex. His stubble drags across your skin, rough enough to make your lip tremble.

Your hands shoot to his hair the second he dives between your thighs. His tongue works you over, lips locking around your clit as he sucks hard. You cry out, fingers gripping his hair, and he groans into you, the sound vibrating so deep it makes your legs shake.

Rafe’s fingers slide inside without warning, drilling his cum back into you until your back bows and your eyes blur with tears.

You sob, thighs quivering as your heels dig into the mattress, your body barely able to take it anymore; your brain not able to think of a single coherent thought.

“Give it to me. Let ‘em know who owns this fuckin’ bed, aight. You and me… You. And. Me.” A scream rips from your throat, so cock-drunk you cum without warning, soaking his hand, his face, the sheets beneath you, everything drenched in the proof of your pleasure.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Rafe sighs in relief, licking and kissing through the mess, savoring every drop. He slaps your pussy once, firm and wet, just to hear the sound of it. “Atta baby. That’s what I fuckin’ needed… So damn good to me.”

He drags his mouth up your body. Every touch lingers, every breath shared. He settles over you, wrapping you up in him.

You reach for his face, thumb stroking along his slick jaw. He leans into your touch, his mouth just a breath from yours.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Rafe’s leans in, resting his forehead against yours. A quiet smile breaks across his face.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he says, low and steady. “Always have. Always will.”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴ the next morning

“I warned you,” Max mutters.

Tripp doesn’t reply—just stares into the void like something sacred was taken from him last night. Trevor’s slumped next to him, hoodie up, eyes hollow, chewing his thumbnail.

“Warned us?” Tripp breathes, voice shot. “About the wet bed? The screaming? The headboard hitting the wall like a metronome set to ‘destroy pussy’ all night long?”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bauer adds, thumping his fist against the kitchen table. “All damn night.”

Max shrugs, calm as ever. “I told you not to talk about my mom.”

“…She was crying about it,” Bauer mutters. “Crying about dick—”

“Enough,” Max snaps.

Tripp rubs both hands over his face. “I’ve got PTSD. Did you sleep?”

“You think I slept?” Trevor huffs.

“You could’ve knocked,” Max says casually, sipping his orange juice.

All heads turn to him fast. “Knocked?” They spat in unison.

Max shrugs again, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “Could’ve asked to crash in my room. I slept great.”

You walk in like it’s any other morning—light on your feet, humming under your breath, dressed in a tiny pajama set that has no business existing in a house full of teenage boys. Your tank’s stretched snug across your chest, love bites just barely visible where your robe slips open at the collar.

You pull the cinnamon rolls out, set them on the counter, steam rising fast. Without thinking, you grab the icing, swipe some with your finger, and lick it clean. You smile, small and sleepy, still feeling kind of floaty from the night before.

And for the first time in god knows how long they sat there in silence.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Tripp whispers as heavy footsteps echo down the hall.

And then—Rafe.

No shirt, just his signature gold chain catching the light as it rested against his chest. His skin was tanned, muscles cut sharp, and those sweats hung low on his hips like he’d just rolled out of bed—or hadn’t bothered to pull them up all the way.

“Mornin’, baby,” He murmurs, already reaching for your waist.

“Good morning,” you hum, letting him pull you into him—cinnamon roll tray still in your hands—as he kisses your skin; fingers curling around the handle of the fresh cup of coffee you poured him, steam rolling over the rim of the handmade Daddy mug from a Father’s Day past.

“For me?” He asks softly, like the entire house isn’t holding its breath.

You giggle, warm and syrupy. “Made your favorite.”

“Already had my favorite last night.” It’s a whisper meant just for you, but every boy hears it.

Rafe grabs a roll, swipes his thumb through the icing, and licks it clean like he’s still tasting you. He sips his coffee slowly, his focus unwavering.

“Breakfast on the porch, baby?”

“Yeah,” you smile like he asked you on a date.

Then finally, with one last glance at his house, his wife, and the group of broken boys who will never forget last night, he mumbles, smug as ever…

“Ya’ll have a great day. ”

#rafe one shot 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#my library ᝰ.ᐟ #dilf!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #older!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #dad!rafe #ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ dilf!rafe x milf!reader au

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thehoneybeestings · 1 month ago

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 1k Content/Warnings: nsfw, porn w no/little plot, brothel worker!reader x service top!sev, bottom!reader, fem reader (no anatomy mentioned), masochist!reader, traffic light system A/N: based on this post! credits to @no1jinxer for the idea! it's in the name; sev is high on shimmer fucks the shit out of you. enjoy <3

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika on Shimmer, who usually refuses to set foot into the brothel under the influence of its effects

୨ৎ But tonight, she’s got a job to do

୨ৎ She’s been tracking a rival chem-baron for a few weeks now, and it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that he frequented the brothel

୨ৎ So, she struck up a deal with Babette; “I’ll pay you and your girls double for the next three months if you’ll give me a ring the next time he shows up.”

୨ৎ “You’d pay me twice to see Y/n, anyway,” Babette scoffs; but ultimately, they shake on it, and the rest is a waiting game

୨ৎ When Babette does give her the call, she’s there in less than 10 minutes, and he’s dead in less than five

୨ৎ She doesn’t typically let work get personal, but when she’d heard from a few of Babette’s girls that this chem-baron tended to get a bit too rough with them, it was hard not to let anger fuel the job more than she typically would

୨ৎ And as soon as he’s been taken care of, she makes her rounds, peeking her head into every open door to ensure that everyone’s okay

୨ৎ When she makes it to you, she releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding upon finding you arranging pillows on the velvet couch, unassuming as ever

୨ৎ “Hey, doll,” she sighs. “You okay in here?”

୨ৎ You’re calling her name in excitement before you can help it, head whipping around to look at her; and when you do, you find her in a state you’ve never seen; only heard of

୨ৎ Her copper arm hums with energy, working hard to circulate the unmistakable glow of shimmer through its workings and into her bloodstream

୨ৎ Her scar glows with the same hue, glittering like hot coals of magenta

୨ৎ And her eyes; lilac pulses in their irises, her gaze even more alluring now than it usually is

୨ৎ You don’t realize your own eyes have gone wide until she breaks the silence with a voice raspy from exertion

୨ৎ “I know,” she begins, almost apologetically, “I don’t normally let folks see me like this unless they’re about to get their shit rocked-”

୨ৎ “It’s okay,” you quickly interrupt, shaking your head. “I mean, I’m not scared, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

୨ৎ She nods tentatively

୨ৎ “Okay… and you’re alright?”

୨ৎ “I’m just fine, Vika. Come, sit,”

୨ৎ And when you take a step forward, she takes one back

୨ৎ “Listen… I can’t ask you for anything tonight. Not when I’m still riled up.”

୨ৎ You don’t take another step forward, but your eyes stay locked onto hers, your voice steady

୨ৎ “Do you want something?”

୨ৎ She scoffs, dark lips stretching up into a wicked grin

୨ৎ “Baby, it’s you. Of course I do, but I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

୨ৎ She doesn’t miss the way your lips quirk up into a smirk of their own

୨ৎ “Three months of comin’ to see me… and you haven't figured out that I like a little pain?”

୨ৎ Her face falls- morphs into something serious, something dangerous- and she raises her brows in a silent inquiry:

୨ৎ ‘You sure you know what you’re asking for?’

୨ৎ The cock of your own brow in return says:

୨ৎ ‘You have no idea.’

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika on Shimmer, who never would have thought such a sweet thing like you would turn out to be such a masochist

୨ৎ And when you’re begging like that for her to mark you up, throw you around, leave you sore… what kind of service top would she be to deny you?

୨ৎ Eventually, she starts showing up with an extra cartridge of shimmer, loving the way you go dumb for her when she triggers it and fucks you into tomorrow

୨ৎ It takes her a while to get comfortable with being as rough as you want her to be, not because she doesn’t want to, but because the last thing she wants is to hurt you in a way that suddenly isn’t fun anymore

୨ৎ But, just as always, you’re more than patient, and make her feel more than safe to explore this new facet of her time spent with you

୨ৎ She’ll bite down, and you say harder, she’ll pull your hair, and you say rougher, she fucks you deep, and you say deeper; until she knows just how limp you really want to be by the end of the night

୨ৎ And she has to admit; it’s nice

୨ৎ Really nice

୨ৎ She’s usually already pent up from the bullshit of her day’s work when she comes to see you, but when she’s pent up and wired off the purple substance flooding her system?

୨ৎ She can’t deny that blowing off all that steam in the form of ravaging you is quite the gift you've given her

୨ৎ Of course, Sevika still will not sleep with you if she’s too high to rein herself in the moment you need her to, and as much as she checks in with you when she’s not using it, expect twice the requests for your color and triple the orders to remind her of your safeword when she is

୨ৎ But, damn… quite frankly, you give her a run for her money, and that isn’t easy to do

୨ৎ By the time she’s done with you, you’re littered in bite marks and bruises, legs trembling and face tear-stained

୨ৎ She finds that aftercare with you makes the come down off of shimmer so much easier to handle, too; that pressing kisses to every mark she’s made and whispering praises in your ear as she wipes away at your shuddering form helps ground her just as much

୨ৎ And then, she sleeps like a Gods-damned baby

୨ৎ She never falls asleep at the brothel; or so she thought, but here she is, being woken up by an angel in pink lingerie letting her know that it’s closing time

୨ৎ Of course, she flips out when you tell her she’s been asleep for hours, but you refuse to wake her up and kick her out, caring more that she catches up on the sleep you know she’s not getting than the money you could've made in those hours

୨ৎ But, it’s not like the money matters; she pays double for you, now

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika smut #sevika headcanon #sevika headcanons #sevika imagine #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane smut #arcane headcanons #arcane imagine #arcane imagines #sapphic #lesbian #wlw #arcane

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jungwnies · 3 months ago

Text

f1 grid | who wears the pants... and who doesn't

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid (ft. seb & kimi as requested) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @sonichkkaaascreams) : who on the grid wears the pants in the relationship, and who doesn't >.>

୨ৎ : genre : mature & romance ୨ৎ : tws : def suggestive for some ୨ৎ : word count : 2145

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ�� a/n : another rare monday grid post AND a double post >.<

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

pretends to be in charge until you say something like “on your knees” and he obeys like it’s instinct.

constantly teases you in public, but it’s all bark behind closed doors, he folds under your tone.

you tell him when, where, how. he lives for being told exactly what to do.

rarely talks back, but when he does, it’s 100% to rile you up so you’ll put him in his place.

after? he’s extra clingy. won’t stop stroking your thigh and calling you “babe” like you didn’t just ruin him 10 minutes ago.

subby max. bratty when bored. melts when you’re in control.

yuki tsunoda

fights it for about 0.2 seconds before giving in with a flushed face and a quiet “okay…”

melts the second you use a firm tone. especially if you call him out — “yuki. focus.” he’s instantly obedient.

loves being praised more than anything. you say “good boy” and he makes the softest noise you’ve ever heard.

whiny, needy, and eager to please. he’ll ask “am i doing okay?” with wide eyes and desperation in his voice.

clings to you after, burying his face in your chest while you play with his hair and let him come down slow.

subby yuki. zero resistance. just wants to be told what to do and loved after.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

you try to boss him around once and he just raises an eyebrow like, “you done?”

he doesn’t tell you what to do — he instructs you, and somehow you always end up listening.

real composed until it matters, and then it’s all “hands where i want them. now.”

praise kink? yes. but for you. he’ll have you whimpering “yes, sir” and he’ll smile like it’s his life’s mission.

absolutely ruins you with that quiet authority voice and the way he looks at you like he owns every inch of you.

dommy george. calculated, commanding, never raises his voice — he doesn’t need to.

kimi antonelli

tries to act cool and composed, but the second you touch his jaw and say “sit. be good,” he’s gone.

wants to be the one in control, but gets flustered when you take over — and honestly? he kind of likes it.

gets so soft when you’re gentle but firm with him. your praise sticks in his head for days.

will try to return the favor and be dommy sometimes, but ends up red in the face and overly polite about it.

“can i… uhm… maybe touch you now?” yes baby. yes you can.

soft dom in theory. submissive in practice. let him be your sweet, eager-to-please rookie.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

always looks like he’s in control — clean-cut, charming, arm around your waist in public like he owns the place.

but in private? he’s a soft dom who lives to please you. will let you lead anytime if he sees that glint in your eye.

“you want to be in charge tonight?” he asks, smiling against your neck. “good. i like watching you work.”

still guides you gently when he’s domming — whispers in your ear, hands on your hips, praise always dripping from his lips.

you switch off control easily. for him, it’s never a power trip — it’s about intimacy. trust. making sure you both fall apart in the best way.

switchy charles. publicly confident, privately obsessed with your pleasure. gives and takes control like it’s an art.

lewis hamilton

you try to tell him what to do and he just chuckles low in your ear like, “you’re cute, baby.”

always puts you first — mentally, emotionally, physically — but he’s the one setting the pace.

hands around your throat with the softest voice in your ear: “you take what i give you. nothing more.”

doesn’t need to raise his voice — his presence alone is enough to have you falling apart.

aftercare king. whispering affirmations, kissing your skin, running you a bath while you’re still breathless.

dommy lewis. slow, smooth, and absolutely devastating — in the best way.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

tries to be all dominant and cocky until you pin him down and say

“is this what you wanted?” — instant blushing, stuttering.

loves the playful power struggle — but secretly lives for you winning it.

in public, it’s balanced — you both tease each other, both have control… until he accidentally calls you “ma’am” under his breath.

absolutely loses it when you give him commands — especially if you use that soft, deadly tone.

post-mess: clings to you, giggles into your chest, and says, “you’re actually evil. i’m obsessed.”

switchy but flustered sub when you take charge. tries to fight it. fails. loves every second.

oscar piastri

lets you run the show right up until he doesn’t — and when he flips it? you feel it.

quiet dom. doesn’t say much, but his hands know exactly where to be, and his eyes never leave yours.

doesn’t need to ask what you want — he already figured it out five steps ago.

you try to take charge and he’ll raise a brow, lean in close, and whisper, “you really think i’m going to let you?”

after? total softie. pulls you in, murmurs, “did i give you what you needed?” like it wasn’t the best night of your life.

quiet dom oscar. subtle, intense, and always one step ahead — no games, just precision.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

always in control. always. you try to take over and he just smirks, leans in, and says, “you can try, cariño.”

knows exactly how to tease you — slow touches, low voice, making you beg without ever raising his own tone.

smug as hell but gentle with it. “you’re doing so well for me. look at you.”

physically overwhelming when he wants to be — hand around your throat, body pressed to yours, but still murmuring “beautiful” like a prayer.

after? genuinely cuddly. loves holding you close, tracing circles on your back, pressing sleepy kisses to your shoulder.

lance stroll

calm, cool, and confident in public — hand on your waist, guiding you through a room like he owns it.

but in private? one firm order and he’s already pulling his shirt off, flushed and eager.

gets so quiet when you take over. just wide eyes and breathy little “okay…”

melts when you praise him, but he’ll never admit how much he craves it.

still tries to act cool after, all like “that was good, huh?” while clinging to you like a needy puppy.

ʚ・williams

alex albon

teases you constantly — “oh, you’re in charge tonight? should i be scared?” (he’s not. he’s excited.)

loves when you take control, but every now and then he flips it just to see you squirm — and he loves that power struggle.

whispers filthy things with the softest voice and the most angelic smile.

in sub-mode? whiny, clingy, desperate for your praise. in dom-mode? smug, cheeky, and way too good with his hands.

always laughs after — pulls you close and says, “we’re so good at this. we should win medals or something.”

true switch. playful, sweet, and dangerous when he’s in control — but melts beautifully when you are.

carlos sainz

commands the room in public — hand on your back, eye contact like a promise, speaks for the both of you sometimes.

dominant in bed, yes, but not controlling — passionate, intentional, all heart.

still lets you take over when you want, especially if you whisper in spanish. immediate obedience.

mutters soft, sweet things while you’re in charge — “tan guapa… mi amor, look at you…”

always cuddles after. always. loves tracing your spine and mumbling how good you made him feel.

passionate dom in public. sweet, lowkey switch in private — soft for you, always.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

always talks big — “i’ve got this. i’m in charge tonight.” …sure, babe.

immediately flustered when you call his bluff. “wait, you’re serious? you’re—oh. okay. yes ma’am.”

lowkey loves being bossed around, but he’ll never admit it unless you’re teasing it out of him.

will try to brat his way into more attention. it works. every time.

whiny, dramatic, and totally obsessed with you taking over — grumbles about it after, but melts into your touch like a puppy.

bratty sub ollie. loud, chaotic, and completely soft when you take control.

esteban ocon

always tries to be polite and in control — you take over and he immediately forgets how to function.

quietly submissive. doesn’t say much, but the second you tell him what to do? he listens. every time.

loves structure and order, which makes him thrive under your rules — “yes,” “no,” “stay still.” it calms his brain.

eye contact turns him to mush. especially when you praise him in a low voice.

gets so soft after — arms wrapped around you, forehead to your chest, whispering “thank you” like you gave him peace.

subby esteban. quiet, obedient, and so soft when he’s in your hands.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

lets you play bossy for fun, but always with that knowing smirk — “you done pretending yet?”

dominant without being intense — guides you with a firm hand and a wicked sense of humor.

teases you relentlessly mid-moment, just to make you blush. “a little bossy today, huh? you’re cute when you try.”

loves taking care of you in a subtle way — holding your jaw, whispering in your ear, making you fall apart calmly.

afterward? pulls you into his lap like it’s second nature and says “told you i’d handle it.” (he did. you’re still shaking.)

confident dom liam. playful, relaxed, and always in control — without ever needing to raise his voice.

isack hadjar

walks around like he’s got it together but absolutely folds the second you give him a direct order.

chaotic energy, yes — but he lives for the structure you give him when things get heated.

will absolutely talk himself in circles trying to flirt until you shut him up with a hand around his throat.

gets so flustered when you praise him — covers his face, mutters “stopppp” while blushing like hell.

comes completely undone for you. every. single. time.

subby isack. chaos in the streets, soft and obedient in the sheets. you say jump — he asks how high.

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

all charm and teasing in public — “she’s the boss. i just look pretty.” (he’s not wrong.)

tries to act in control but gives in the second you tell him to sit down and shut up.

total flirt when you take over — “you’re so hot when you’re mean to me.”

lowkey loves being overwhelmed by you. handsy, needy, and completely obsessed with how you handle him.

posts after with a smug grin like he did something — while still recovering from the way you wrecked him.

subby pierre. flirty, dramatic, and totally yours to control. he lives for it.

jack doohan

calm and obedient in daily life — does what you ask without question, super sweet, totally reliable.

but in the bedroom? switches fast. grabs your waist, leans in close, and says “let me take care of you tonight.”

doesn’t raise his voice — just gives one sharp look and you’re listening.

will let you lead sometimes, but only when he lets you — and even then, he takes back control when you least expect it.

soft hands, firm grip, and the kind of focus that ruins you slow.

quiet dom jack. sweet and obedient in life, deadly in bed. respectful menace.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

dry humor and sarcasm in public and makes fun of everything, especially the idea of being bossed around.

but behind closed doors? instantly obedient when you drop your tone. “yes ma’am,” with no hesitation.

loves when you call the shots, especially if you get bossy mid-moment, it gets him feral.

whispers things like “you’re really gonna do me like that, huh?” while letting you pin him without resistance.

afterwards? smug. kisses your shoulder and says “didn’t know you had that in you.” he did. he wanted it.

subby nico. playful, snarky, and totally down bad. lets you take control and begs for more.

gabriel bortoleto

all sweet smiles and soft hands until you push just a little too far and he flips you like it’s second nature.

tries to be respectful and let you lead, but his need to impress you always wins out.

can be so quiet and gentle one second, then breathless and possessive the next, “mine. you hear me?”

you call him “good boy” once and he blushes so hard he forgets how to function.

but then he gets confident. cocky, even. will absolutely ruin you with a shaky voice and a death grip on your waist.

subby with dom bursts gabriel. soft outside, secretly intense, and fully addicted to you.

ʚ・special feature

sebastian vettel

kind, warm, and always listening — until he shuts the door and says “take your clothes off. now.”

patient dom. watches you try to boss him around, smiles, then flips it on you with one sentence and a hand on your throat.

he doesn't need to overpower you — he just knows what you want before you ask.

utterly obsessed with making you feel good. whispering praise in your ear while taking you apart piece by piece.

aftercare is religion to him. warm towel, water, kisses to every part of you he touched. “you were perfect. every second.”

soft but commanding dom seb. gentle hands, sharp control, and worship-level devotion.

kimi raikkonen

lets you make all the plans, pick the restaurant, organize the flights — he’s chilling.

says “okay” to everything you want, barely looks up from his phone… until you're in bed. then it’s “lie down.”

silent dom. barely says a word — just grabs your hips, flips you over, and ruins your entire attitude.

loves when you’re mouthy, though. just watches you with that cold stare and mutters “you done?” before making sure you are.

after? goes right back to letting you do everything while he steals your blanket.

silent dom kimi. doesn't run the relationship, but absolutely runs the bedroom — no discussion.

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h4m1lt0ns · 1 year ago

Text

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode thirteen :: RIBBONS & TEA.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔the groupchat returns, and while lewis is feeling a bit funny, y/n casually gives everyone a heart attack and calls it a surprise.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.

lewishamilton

♡ liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 9,149,394 more.

lewishamilton 📍🇬🇧

tagged: y/n, tommyhilfiger.

3,294,204 comments.

username goodnight.

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[liked by lewishamilton]

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landonorris ..d-dad?

→ lewishamilton ..son?

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→ username LEWIS WHAT THE FUCK.

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username ARE WE GONNA IGNORE LANDO’S COMMENT????

→ username ﹫y/n SAY SOMETHING.

y/l/nestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 13,593,204 more.

y/l/nestate behind the scenes 🍾🎀 fun things coming very soon ⭐️🩷

4,395,394 comments.

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lewishamilton pretty

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mercedesamgf1 mercedes doll 😍

→ username LEWIS I KNOW ITS YOU MF.

→ username log out of this acc lewis 🔥

→ username you too need to stand up 🫵😧

→ username let him stay down it’s Y/N Y/L/N

→ username point made 🤷🏽‍♀️

username bratz doll irl 🧎🏽‍♀️

username 😍😍😍

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

honey badger: avengers assemble.

honey banger: i have easily the most important tea to spill today.

y/n: “hear yee! hear yee!” ahh text

girlfriend kika: LMFAO

babygirl alex: hear yee 😭😭😭

honey badger: it’s about max

girlfriend kika: i ain’t laughing no more 🗿

chal eclair: what does he want

chili!: no bc after the shit his team pulled i don’t think i wanna hear from anyone abt him

angel carmen: wait is it important

honey badger: it’s abt the billboards incident

princess george: oh.

my baby lando: oH?

yukino: 🔪?

honey badger: might be necessary this time

alabono: he is personally involved isn’t he 😐

honey badger: yep.

my baby lando: wait oscar needs to see this

MY BABY LANDO added PAPAYA BABY #2

papaya baby #2: i love it here already

wifey lily: oh i’m so sat

honey badger: i was ‘hanging out’ with max before the suzuka race to make it seem like we’re chill. i wasn’t there to hang w him i had a mission.

my baby lando: okay okay

chal eclair: 🤨

honey badger: i managed to get ahold of his phone then i waited until he left his drivers room

honey badger: then i switched my phone case with his to make it look like i was on my phone while i was going through his

y/n

y/n: i would like to apologise, visa cash app driver, i, indeed was NOT familiar.

girlfriend kika: LET BRO COOK 🔥🔥🔥

chili!: oH HE IS COOKING ALRIGHT

honey badger: so i go through his messages and find a deleted group chat. a group chat with the employees that red bull fired.

chal eclair: OH HELL NOOOOO 😭😭😭

honey badger: he INSTRUCTED them to burn the billboards. specifically the ones with y/n on them.

princess george: i know he thought this was IT

alabono: bro thinks he’s him

papaya baby #2: who let bro cook

honey badger: not only that

y/n: THERES MORE?????

angel carmen: hELLO?

honey badger: he made sure to tell horner to cover for him

PIERRE GASLYYYY: no fucking wonder the fia’s investigation was wrapped up SO quickly

yukino: and their corny ass apology said it all

yukino: “team principal christian horner apologises” since fucking when

babygirl alex: ^^^^^^ REALLLL

y/n: setting up a zoom call rn we need to brainstorm

y/n: im also adding lew, seb and nando because they’ve been PlISSSSEEEDDD

chal eclair: “lew” and “nando” and i’m still waiting on my cute nickname

y/n: be grateful i love you and your fuck ass pasta 🙄

papaya baby #2: i love it SO much here

chili!: don’t get too comfortable oscar

y/n: i’m not gon tell you to leave that baby alone one more time 🗣️

papaya baby #2: thanks mum 🫶🏻

y/n and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 44,294,293 more.

y/n and y/l/nestate surprise lol 🎀 champagne, sex & anxiety 7/10 🥂 considering the amount of people i worked with on this album, it’s truly a fucking miracle that i managed to shut the fuck up abt it and not say anything so here u go i guess 💗🩰⭐️ no more sad songs LETSFUCKINGO !!!! i personally call this one my mona lisa and i BEG u to love it as much as i do when it comes out 🍾🤍🏹 also no twitter jumpscare this time ur welcome lmaooo :)! love u to death 🧸🫂💘

9,204,394 comments.

theweeknd my excitement exceeds the english language.

username CAN YOU BE NORMALS ABT ALBUM DROP JS FOR ONCE (1) ☝🏽 PLS.

username WAHTS FOIBG ON ????????

username WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKK Y/N

username wHY THE FUCKCKCKCKC IS SHE STILL ALLOWED TO DO THIS SKSKSKSKSKS 😭😭😭😭😭

username “no twitter jumpscare” AN INSTAGRAM JUMPSCARE ISNT ANY BETTER Y/N

lewishamilton honoured. proud of you doll 💗

→ y/n proud of u ml 🩷⭐️

→ username “ml” GIRL.

→ username OMFG ﹫mercedesamgf1 YOUR EMPLOYEES ARE FLIRTING TAKE THEM TO HR ITS ILLEGAL

→ username HR 😭😭😭

→ username GET THIS MALEEEE AWAY FROM MY WIFE 💔💔

username ITS MIDNIGHT MATE DID YOU LOSE IT

landonorris WHAT.

carlossainz55 WHAT THE HELL

danielricciardo IS THIS HOW I FIND OUT

username ARE WE ALL CONFUSED RIGHT NOW

charles_leclerc UHM YES??????

username YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

y/l/nrecords love when y/n drops music out of nowhere 🔥

→ username LMAOOOO

→ username REALLLLLL

username i’m so genuinely shocked i’ve been sitting here in silence for the past ten minutes

→ username you’re a stronger person that me i screamed so loud my neighbour broke my door bc he thought i was being murdered

→ username DAWWWGGGGGG IM WEAK 😭

username WHY IS LEWIS TAGGED ON ME & YOU

→ username SOMEJENE ANSER MER

username THESE SONG NAMES ARE GIVINGGGGG

pierregasly what in the ratatouille bullshit.

francisca.cgomes WHAT THE HELL 🔥 🔥

lilymhe YESSSSSSS

alexalbon ??????!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!!

mercedesamgf1 i literally cant wait 🤩

username yesss gaga

oscarpiastri we’ve all been on this call for four hours and we don’t even get a heads up ??

→ username CALL??

→ username “WE’VE ALL” ?????

→ username FOUR HOURS HELLO SIR.

username what in the literal fuck is going on.

username ,&/&;&2929(92&:’fwlsoqlfjje MA’AM.

username STOP THID MADDNEDS LDLE

username Y/N PLEASE

scuderiaferrari ?????????

username i can’t do it. i js can’t do it man.

username BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL

username WHY WIULD U ANNOUNCE IT LIKE THAT

username Y/N ISTG.

☆ IMESSAGE with : Unknown Number

xxx-xxx: hey

xxx-xxx: can we talk?

#☆ — ¡h4m1lt0ns!˚⁎⁺˳ .#f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #george russell x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #pierre gasly x trader #oscar piastri x reader

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jellitchi · 11 months ago

Text

okay now here is my vampire au… yet another au i know.. if ud like to read abt it ill write some stuff under the cut

base concept is grian gets fired from his office job so on his way home there is a little bird who he mistakes as injured. he tries to help it (savior complex) but gets a curse placed upon him instead, slowly turning him more into a bird (very specifically a great horned owl).

having been so detached from the magical culture/world he returns to his former guild (the watchers) and asks them if they can help. first of all theyre baffled by the gall grian has to walk out on the guild years ago and then return as if he hadnt betrayed them. another story for another time, they say they can lift the curse but only under the condition of grian technically rejoining the watchers and taking up bounties once more. his entrance bounty is to slay this vampire (scar) so hes like sure done deal. scar has been kept alive for centuries, the watchers have no actual intentions of grian succeeding. theyre sending him as scars dinner basically, an offering, sacrifice if you must. grian realizes this once he finds out that scar is tethered and essentially trapped in this mansion. grian tries to free scar but does so unsuccessfully, he tampers w the ward placed by the watchers and accidentally rewrites it so scar is tethered to him. a bit like double life in a way. so now these two r stuck together and have to slay monsters and whatever while also trying to find a way to lift the curse on grian while also trying to break the soul bound. yeah there's more like the watchers r gonna b hunting them down … theyre considered runaway fugitives or smth hm another ramble for another post okay goodbye..

#grian #goodtimeswithscar #mcyt #desert duo #fanart #vampire au #lizzysart

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silvurene · 12 days ago

Note

HII!! I’m not sure if requests are open or if you even take them (totally fine if not btw!)

But please can I request a kind of comedy fic where he spills black oil on your favourite carpet (or he just ruins it in general) and you stop talking to him for a few hours but he makes it up to you. Maybe finishing off with a bit of fluff..

It can be with either Nam-Gyu or Dae-Ho.. OR BOTH! Idm.. hehe

SORRY FOR THE ODD REQUEST! I JUST DON’T SEE MANY THINGS COMEDY RELATED

Loved ur nam-gyu fanfic btw!! 🤍

‧₊˚ ┊𝐑𝐮𝐠 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧

Namgyu n Daeho ruin your new ‘prized’ possession, how do they make it up to you?

contains: separate fics , established relationship , fluff , g/n language , nothin’ crazy icl , bf!namgyu , bf!daeho , 1.4K w/c (total)

> a/n: tysm for this request ml ❤️‍🩹 i have no idea how to write a comedy fic lmao so I went for a more lighthearted/fluffy approach, I hope u like it nonetheless!!! also tytyty i was so nervy abt posting my other fic </3

Namgyu ⬎

“Fuck bro, this isn’t funny!” Namgyu’s currently on his knees, desperately trying to clean your new pink rug. The one you’ve been telling him about nonstop since you got it because of how perfectly it fit the heart theme of your bathroom.

Thanos stands next to him, admiring his freshly dyed hair in the mirror. “Not for you,” he snickers while ruffling his violet locs, “but it’s kinda for me. I’m not gonna get killed by my—” He doubles over the counter when Namgyu punches the back of his leg.

Purple is splattered all over the floor, including your new rug. The scrubbing only seems to be making it worse with the dye now spreading into a dark-muddled mess. Frustration sets into Namgyu’s movements until he throws the sponge and stands up, cursing like all hell.

“Maybe she won’t notice?” Namgyu blinks at Thanos, and his hand balls up into a fist to strike him again. “Or, what if we dye the whole thing?”

“Are you fucking stupid? A purple rug in a pink fucking bathroom?” Thanos shrugs and continues his appreciation of his appearance. Threading his fingers behind his head, Namgyu takes a deep breath. Think. Think. Think…

“I’ll just act like I have no idea what their talking about if they bring it up,” he says rubbing his face. “Yeah,” Thanos laughs sarcastically, “like that’s so much better than my idea.”

Namgyu starts collecting the various cleaning products used before shooting the other a dirty look. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Thanos just gives him a denigrating grin in return, turning on his heel. “See ya later my boy. Don’t die!” He yells over his shoulder.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It’s early evening now, and Namgyu’s sitting in your living room mindlessly scrolling through his feed. The click of the door unlocking perks his head up, and for a moment he actually forgets about the impending doom awaiting him a few feet away.

“I’m home,” you say bending over the couch to place a few kisses on Namgyu’s forehead. “Gonna go shower before I make dinner. Feel gross.”

He nods in response, going back to his phone. You screeching of his full government name sends a chill down his spine. Should he run now and go back to his apartment? No, no. That’d be wrong. But, so is ruining your new carpet…

Namgyu shakes away his thoughts stepping into your restroom, his gaze locked onto you the entire time. “Hm?” He hums so innocently that you know he’s done something wrong.

“My new fucking rug? Did you have Subong over?” You question, staring holes into the man. Finally he looks at the crime scene— damn, he did a poor job at cleaning it up. “I’ve never seen this rug a day in my life.”

That’s how he’s sitting on the floor at your bedroom door, pawing at it like a restless dog. “Sweetheart? I know you hear me,” he shouts from the other side. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d freak out this bad over a damn bathroom mat.”

His weak attempts at an apology is met with silence, and it’s deafening. Namgyu’s angry. He’s angry he’s made you upset, but he’d rather die than admit he’d done something shitty. “You can’t stay locked up in there forever. I know you’re hungry.”

When he’s still given nothing, he gets up and storms off grabbing his keys. “Fuck this, I’m leaving.” But he knew he’d be back with an apology meal. That’s usually how he got through to you when he was actually feeling contrite.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

About an hour later you hear Namgyu’s final knock. “Food,” he says, placing it by the door. Before he can move, you’re opening it. You stare at him, and he senses this may be his only chance to reconcile with you.

“I fucked up,” he says softly, averting eye contact— it might actually kill him. “I should’ve thought about moving your rug, and really shouldn’t have lied about it.”

The both of you stand there awkwardly for so long Namgyu becomes a little uneasy. “Fine, hate me forever. Eat something at least,” he mutters starting to leave again, but you throw your arms around him, head buried into his back.

“I accept your apology,” you mumble into him. “But you and Subong are banned from using my bathroom.”

Namgyu smiles, relief coursing through his veins. “That’s fair.”

Daeho ⬎

Tucking his hair behind his ear, Daeho plops down on your couch. He’d cleaned up your entire apartment as a special ‘just because,’ just because he loved you.

It really started with you asking him to move your old rug out because you had bought a new one. One thing led to another, and now the entire place is sparkling with a faint cleaner scent in the air.

Daeho lays down, his lids so heavy it’s a bother to fight them anymore. He was going to call you, but you’d be home any moment anyways, he’d just talk to you then.

When he wakes, its by you shaking him— a little urgently at that. “Daeho, did you clean my place?” you ask in exasperation. “Hm?” He replies in that low, silky note, “oh, mhm.”

A joyous smile spreads across your face as walk around the couch. You fall into his chest, laying on top of him. Instinctively, his arms surround you and he’s pulling you further against his body.

“Thank you,” you mutter, lifting your head to stare into those big doe eyes of his. He can’t help but plant kisses all along your face. “Where’s the carpet though? It was new, you didn’t have to clean that too.”

Daeho’s brows furrow as he pulls his lips away from you. “What do you mean new? You asked me to get rid of it.”

“My old one… I already had it moved…” the realization sets into his muscles and his eyes glaze over. “Dae?”

“I thought it looked too brand new…”

You roll off of him onto the floor. Your knees draw up towards your chest and your hands cradle your face. “Dae,” you despairingly mutter, “it took me forever to save up for that. I…” your voice starts to crack a little, “I hadn’t even payed it off fully yet.”

He looks at your pained figure, and it truly takes all of his strength not to crumble into a million tears of embarrassment. Not only that but you were upset; because of him for that matter.

“Love, I—” he’s cut off by you wiping your eyes in the crook of your elbow and storming off towards your room. He nearly trips and hurts himself stumbling up and off the sofa. “Wait!” He shouts after you, but it’s too late. The silent treatment was cemented.

Daeho doesn’t worry himself with banging on your door repeatedly waiting for you to come out. It’d probably make just make this a whole lot worse. No, instead he puts into action his best effort at an apology.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Hours later, the aroma of a comforting candle makes you sit up in bed. What is he up to? A card is slipped under your door as three shrill knocks are laid. You can hear footsteps retreating from which they came.

Skeptically, you rise to your feet to retrieve the mysterious letter. It was encased in a pink envelope sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. You’re a little annoyed at how endearing it was, but you rip it open it anyways.

Inside was a detailed apology so sweet it almost brings a tear to your eye. The final words were an invitation to have dinner with him. Your heart simply melts, how could you ever stay mad at Daeho like this?

You leave your room in a hurry, following that oh so sweet smell to the dining table. There, a classic, romantic, candlelit dinner was awaiting you.

Daeho’s face lights up instantly at your appearance. He picks up a carefully arranged bouquet and strides over to you. “My love,” he says softly, “please forgive—“

You cut him off by pressing your forehead against his chest and letting out the biggest sob. He doesn’t quite know how to react, just enveloping you in his arms; his natural warmth comforting in it of itself.

“You’re forgiven,” you manage to say between cries. Daeho’s face is wrinkled in concern. “Are you okay? Are-are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure, “I just… I dunno how I got so lucky with you.”

I wrote this in a night n a half can u tell 🧌 n e ways i wanna write for Daeho more </3

#fluff #squid game #squid game x reader #nam gyu #namgyu x reader #namgyu x you #player 124 #player 124 x reader #player 124 x you #kang dae ho #dae ho x reader #player 388 #player 388 x reader #player 388 x you

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thisonehere · 1 month ago

Note

heheh I just found your writing and! yet another mk writer im obsessed with :> if your requests are still open, I’d love something with raiden or tomas with a reader with a tomboy/ funny disposition that gets flustered easily (i have an AGENDA!)

Double Feature

A/N: I'll do you one better, how about BOTH. Least I can do for taking so long to get this done.

Tags: Tomboy reader, Mk x reader, Request, Post Mk1, Drabble, fluff, Heat

C/w: Mentions of heat exhaustion, Sexual Tension

Cool Down

(featuring Raiden)

"Y/n?"

Raiden asked, concerned, as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I-I'm fine." You are quick to shut your friend down, quickly going back throwing cabbages into your cart. It was a hot summer day and you were hot and bothered. Not just by the sun, though it showed you little mercy already, but also by Raiden. He had rolled up his sleeves revealing his forearms. They were bigger, stronger than you remembered. You how you froze like a deer in headlines and stared at them.

Time at the Wu Shi really bulked him up.

"Are you sure? You seem off today" Raiden pressed the matter forward as he threw another cabbage into his cart. Today was the day that your dear friend returned from his hard work at the Academy as Liu Kang's champion.

"I'm fine! Just a little overheated." You straightened your hat and focused on your work. Uprooting the Cables with you Harvest knife and chucking and flinging the last bit of them, one, two, three, one right after the other into your cart. You were working much faster today, Raiden was struggling to keep up.

You two grew, alongside Lao, as farmers working in Feng Jian. Your family worked at the same farm as Raiden and Loa. A lot of the girls in Gang Jian were tough, you were no exception. You always came home and had scrapped knees and bruised knuckles from rough play. You remembered wrestling Lao and Raiden in these very fields when you were younger. With time they got stronger, it did get harder to fight them, but not impossible.

One time you had to wipe the smile off Lao's when he said something snide to you, you couldn't do what exactly, but it was something about you being a weak little girl. He was on his back in seconds with a very unhappy look on his face.

You were such a tough girl, it was ironic then that it was easy to get ruffled and flustered, especially around Raiden

Now was no different.

"Yes, well, I suppose today is...rather hot." A few beads of sweat trickled down Raiden's face, but other than that he looked barely affected by the sun's heat. Perhaps a bonus of the amulet that is on his chest, but truly, rather never seemed bothered by heat. His own secret way of reminding all his inherit perfection.

You hated this man's face; that's a lie, you love his face. You hated that you loved his face.

"Rather hot indeed." Raiden lifted his arm to wipe away the sweat on his brow, unintentionally flexing causing flexing muscles through his ill-fated shirt. Once more that knot formed from your belly. "Perhaps a trip to the Teahouse is in order. A nice cup of lemon barley water would do wonders, I'll buy us some."

You huffed as you reached for the last cabbage "I can buy my own lemon Marley water."

"Lemon Barley water." Raiden corrected causing you to roll your eyes. "Well, what's the difference? Barley? Marley? Bali? I'm sure they all taste just the same if you're not given to preference." You wondered whether or not the hotness in your face was from the heat, or from struggling not to look at Raiden. And yet Raiden looked at you, rather strangely. "We need to get you inside, the heat has you speaking nonsense." He laid his hoe beside his cart and walked over to you in the manner of someone concerned about the other would faint.

The wretched man outstretched his hand and laid omit on your shoulder. Taken by surprise, you feel as if your entire body collapses from inside. Chills run through your body at his touch, making you feel things you never thought to feel. "By the Elder Gods, your trembling, the heat you trembling. That does it, you are going inside." You shrug you shoulder, forcing Raiden's hand off.

"I'm fine! Madame Bo's can wait. We still need to get these cabbages delivered and-and-hey! What are you doing!?"

Before you could process it, Raiden throws you over this shoulder in a quick procession. "Put me down, you oaf!" It seems the Shaolin didn't just make Raiden stronger, they made him bolder as well.

...

You hated to admit it, but Raiden was right, the Lemon-Barbie-whatever-water did just the trick for your disposition. You found yourself sat in a booth at Madame Bo's.

The old woman would've come to greet you but she was too busy taking orders. It was just you and Raiden. The water proved refreshing enough that you drained the entire glass and pitcher. 3 pitcher to be exact. Raiden eyed the empty glass with a deep chagrin. It would cost him. "You did say you would pay."

Raiden slowly nodded. "I did say that, didn't I?" His eyes are mournful. He slumped back into his seat as he imagined the bill. You merely laugh. "You're almost as bad as Kung Lao." Raiden huffed, causing you to sit upright in your seat. "Now you wait just a minute! I'm many things, but I'll never be as bad as Lao." You snippily snark.

Raiden playfully scoffed as he took a swing of his hibiscus tea. "Well, at least you're a better company." He said with a satisfied sigh.

This merely comment sent you in a flush. Causing you to chug faster on your water. "But really, I am so happy to back. The monks at the Wu Shi Academy are wonderful, but I missed Feng Jian so much." Raiden gently places a hand on yours as he smiles, looking into your eyes. "I missed you." At that second you felt your whole body nearly burst into flame. You smiled as the world began to spin.

"I-Is Lao back too?" You ask rashly, placing your glass aside. "Um, Yes, I believe so-I" But you don't give Raiden a chance to finish as you quickly rise to your feet. "Then, why are we here? We should see him, I'd love to see him!" You slam money onto the counter and Get out of your booth. "Wait, we both agreed that I'd pay-Wait-What-H-Hey!"

Raiden is taken by surprise as you rush over to him, grab him, and throw him over your shoulder. "No so nice, is it? Ha! Let's go!" You rush out the door of the Teahouse, ignoring Madame Bo's yelling at you to 'be gentle with that boy or else you'll break him'.

Focus on Me

(featuring Tomas Vrbada)

"Watch my form."

Tomas said as he strikes the training dummy with a complex attack that requires immense attention. Attention that you couldn't give because you were too busy eyeing his bare body. He had gotten the bright Idea to take off his shirt while training, you were lost in a haze as you admired his smooth skin, and the sweat mixed with morning sunlight that detailed his beautiful muscle.

You two were training in new Shirai Ryu training grounds outside. You were a new recruit and already you showed great promise, so much promise in fact that you were set to train alongside Tomas, Harumi, and Kuai. A woman like you comes once in a generation after all, as Tomas put it.

It was a wonderful opportunity. If only you could pay attention, you get so easily distracted, easily flustered. For such a tough girl, it was so easy to get you scattered brained. Tomas especially seemed to be your kryptonite, everything thing man did drove you to jelly knees and a blank mind.

"Bow you go." Tomas huffed, breathing heavily as he wiped the sweet from his from his brow. With a deep gulp you walk up to the dummy, get into your stance, you swing, you miss. You were good, but not the way Tomas needed you to be. "Here, let me help." Suddenly you feel Toma's hot body behind you. His hands are on you, going up and down your body, adjusting and correcting you.

He then walks up to a nearby Dummy and redoes the move, a quick and fats paced one, again you must pay attention, and again you fail to. "Okay, now you try it now." Okay, you try and you fail from lack of paying attention. Tomas crossed his arms and pursed his lip, his eyes are on you. Analyzing up and down, figuring you out in every inch of your being. It took all in your to remain upright, to look strong and confident. "Y/n, step onto the training mat." He said sternly, putting his hand behind his back as he fixed his nose upward and hiss tare at you coldly.

Butterflies gathered and swarmed about in your stomach as you quickly stepped to the mat, feeling it's sunbaked warmth under your feet. Tomas followed you to the mat and stood at the other side of it. "It's clear that you are struggling with this." He decided, his eyes still beating on you. You tried to keep your head up high, but the way Tomas was looking at you was causing you freak out on the inside. "It's clear that you need something different. A dummy isn't working for you...so perhaps a real person works better on you." He spread his legs and got into his fight stance.

You eyes widen and you look at him like he's crazy, you? him? Could you handle being that close to him, or would you combust into flames. "What's wrong?" Tomas said, noticing you concern. "Scared of a little skin-on-skin? I promise...I'll be gentle." Okay, at this point this man knows what he's doing, you decided in you as you also get into your own fighting stance, being sure to be in the exact form Tomas wanted you in.

And just like that, you two go at it. Trading blows, dodging each other. "That's it!" Tomas cheered as you finally preformed the move correct. And so you keep training, Tomas insists that you keep doing the move on him again, and again, and again. He says he can take it, so you give him everything you got.

By the end, you both are on your back, huffing. "I think's that's enough training for now." Tomas huffed. You nodded your head in agreement, by now you forgot why you were so flustered. Why were you so nervous? This is just Tomas, he's nothing to blush over.

Tomas gets up to his feet, he stretches "You really worked me out."

...

Dang it.

You feel your entire body begin to burn again. Tomas doesn't notice, he instead helps you to your feet. "Get to the showers, we'll reconvene with Kuai Liang later at noon. We'll doing a bit of wrestling. I want you to be my partner." You just smile and nod and bow. You both part ways, going to your respective places to clean up. You didn't know about Tomas, but you were taking a coldest shower.

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agendabymooner · 2 years ago

Text

SOMETHING FULFILLED !!! MARK W. X FEM!READER X FERNANDO A. (18+)

summary: after struggling to figure out what to get, mark and fernando decided that they should just simply fulfill their daughter's wish with the help of their wife, y/n.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), holiday special, dilf!fernando and dilf!mark (and milf!reader), threesome (mfm), unprotected sex, fingering, breeding/impregnation kink, mentions of pregnancy, double penetration (i'll let you use ur imaginations), established poly relationship, i did not edit this.

note: what if i fell into a writer's block but god said "you've written a jenson and seb threeway smut but not webbonso smut yet?" (on my grid sluts shit) enjoy and happy holidays xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

mark and fernando would go through the lengths of fulfilling their kid’s christmas wishes. they would always do anything for their little girl.

it was cute, really but oftentimes, even y/n found that they had spoiled her a little too much.

the parents had been wondering what to get their little daughter, ava alonso-webber, as she continued to grow as her independent self. her mother had decided that she was big enough to decide what she would like for holidays.

meanwhile, the fathers had decided that ava was not old enough to not be spoiled. after all, mark and fernando only had one child with their wife and little ava was only six.

y/n merely hissed at them when they gave ava a go ahead on her request and said, “don’t go overboard with her gift this year. no puppies anymore.”

both mark and fernando shrugged before ava exclaimed, “i want a baby sibling, papì and daddy!”

now, their wife wasn’t a miracle worker— but to try and change ava’s mind about her gift for christmas was something she shouldn’t have done.

mark and fernando were quick to frown at this before their wife continued to avoid that conversation for the next month all while attempting to convince ava into getting something more… manageable.

ava had eventually decided that dolls and more karting time with her dads were enough. ava’s mother was more than relieved that the little girl had relented and moved on.

the dads, the brooding fathers, were a different story. in fact, when y/n arrived from work a week before christmas, she was surprised to find the house quiet. the only thing she could hear was soft music playing in the background. she was really worried she had to sneak the toys into the bedroom without ava noticing.

but the little girl wasn’t there. instead, both mark and fernando were sitting in the living room with the recorded premier league game on.

y/n’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her husbands and asked, “uh, did we just magically lose a child before we’ve spent hours and money on her gifts or…?”

mark and fernando looked at her. then the australian spoke, “oh, hey babe. ava’s staying overnight with her cousins.”

“and we agreed on this when…?” she raised a brow in return, walking over the two nonetheless to press kisses on their lips. fernando pulled her into his lap as mark moved closer.

“now,” fernando murmured, his lips opting to attack her neck as she let out a soft sigh.

mark tipped her head towards his direction before kissing her, his tongue allowing itself to tangle with hers as he hummed in satisfaction. he nearly smirked at the feeling of her breath running out as she moaned.

“we’ve been trying to get you to talk to us about something,” fernando started, his breath fanning her ear as goosebumps broke out her skin in both nervousness and excitement.

“about…” she murmured, eventually pouting when mark tugged her hair back as she got eager to make out with him. mark gave her a stern look.

fernando then nipped at her ear as she let out a gasp before he answered with, “what our little princess wanted.”

it was as if the floodgates were opened, her arousal making her squirm in their hold as mark crooned, “you were so adamant about not giving her what she really wanted, baby. why’s that?”

“i- i,” she gulped. she really wasn’t able to answer especially now that she was being tossed back and forth between the two.

she could feel their hands roaming and touching her, gasping at the feeling of fernando’s fingers as they slowly snaked their way down into her lace panties. fernando then cooed mockingly, “you’re so fucking wet, cariño. you know what we think?”

“h- ngh,” she whimpered, unable to utter any more words as her husbands chuckled darkly.

“we think,” fernando’s tongue glided down her throat and sucked her skin, leaving a mark on her neck as he continued, “that you want to give us a baby too. a baby sibling for our little girl.”

“and you don’t want to tell us,” mark added, smirking at the sight of their wife writhing. y/n was already long gone, feeling extremely aroused just by having her husbands work her up like this.

y/n gasped aloud, hearing her cunt making squelching noises as fernando slid his fingers in and curled up against her sensitive spot.

“how about we give you more babies to grow, hm?” mark murmured, kissing her hard as he slid her shirt off and tossed it someplace else. “we’re gonna fuck more babies into you until you’re full of them.”

she nodded eagerly, writhing against the two of them as she begged wordlessly.

fernando and mark smirked and looked at each other, as if they had every intention to fulfill their goal with the help of their perfect pretty wife.

their cocks had been doing their back and forths in her cunt, her walls stretched out due to its familiarity with their lengths as she whined loudly, sinking repeatedly as she kept her hands resting on fernando’s chest.

the two men groaned aloud, mark grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging it lightly as his hips snapped behind her. “oh fuck,” he uttered, fucking his cock into her as she babbled incoherently.

“te ves tan bonita como siempre, cariño,” you look so pretty as always, darling. fernando cursed out as he thrusted his hips up. he muttered, “tan guapa, tan jodida así.” so pretty looking so fucked out like this.

“mm— fuck, please,” y/n flinched at the feeling of mark’s fingers pinching on her nipple and fernando’s thumb rubbing her clit simultaneously. she yelped in pleasure, her eyes tearing up as she wailed, “want you two to cum in me— fuck, nando- mark!”

“want us to cum inside you, yeah?” mark spoke breathlessly, the two men increasing their pace and intensity as she nodded against his chest. “can’t wait to see you full of me and fernando again, sweetheart.”

“and these tits, fuck, hermosa,” fernando groaned, “can’t wait to see it full of milk again. you’re gonna look so fucking hot when you’re pregnant.”

“like she did before when she had our little girl,” mark added with a chuckle, eventually groaning as he said, “you’re gonna make us so happy- you’re gonna make our little girl happy, baby.”

“m- i want your cum, please,” she pleaded, her walls clenching as the men both groaned in pleasure. “fuck me harder! shit~ fill me up-“

“you want us to fuck you full, hm?” fernando moaned, now fucking her harder from the bottom as he continued, “fuck- i’m cumming, hermosa. hah~ fuck!”

“oh~ hah,” mark groaned in her ear as he shot his load inside her. fernando did too, slowly thrusting and coating her cunt white like mark did.

y/n whimpered, her body limping against fernando as the three of them eased off their orgasms. her body shook violently between the two of them before she took a deep breath and wiped her sweat off her forehead.

she then looked at fernando and chuckled, pressing a kiss on his lips once more before moving to his side. mark had returned from the bathroom to clean her off.

she pursed her lips as she said, “would it be too late if i say that we didn’t need fuck like rabbits to get pregnant?”

mark nearly dropped the damp towel and looked at fernando with widened eyes. fernando returned the surprised look as y/n laughed quietly.

“oh you are horny, baby,” mark laughed with her, pressing a kiss on her lips, his hands hovering on her stomach before he pressed a kiss on it.

fernando shared a kiss with her too before asking, “are you really?”

“i am,” she grinned. “i was going to show you two when i got home but you got excited. i couldn’t tell you two i was pregnant because you two were all over me.”

“oh fuck! finally,” mark exclaimed, grinning at fernando and their wife.

“that’s one christmas gift ticked off the list for ava,” fernando laughed. “someone’s gonna be happy that her christmas is fulfilled.”

oh, the lengths that they’d go through just to spoil their kid.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

#fernando alonso smut #mark webber smut #fernando alonso imagine #mark webber imagine #formula one imagine #formula one smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #fa14 #mw2 #fernando alonso #mark webber #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #fernando alonso x reader #mark webber x reader #formula 1 #formula one x reader

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fiamat12 · 1 month ago

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Re: The Hallmarks of a travel decoy

Catch me if you can...

In reference to a broader discussion around publicity given to A, Lukola was wise to make sure some of it doubled a travel decoy. How can one tell the difference? It seems one of the key ways is that it alludes to Lukola being in a location in real time, but it lacks corrobation. Instead, it's like one big latergram loop. The last place(s) they've been serves to cover for the current place they are; the current place they are serves as a cover for the next place...

Sunny weighs in on an example of L's recent Paphos pic not meeting the criteria whereas his sis Lauren's TT does... (credit to @jmuz09)

Here are some other examples from Lukola history:

Mid March:

•Jecky gang posts an Airbnb reservation for N to be at JD's play Mar 15-17, Supposed location: Sheffield ➡️ Probable location: Ireland

• Nose scratching pap pics of L & A on Mar 18, Supposed location: London ➡️ Probable location: traveling back from Ireland

Late March/ early April

•Mar 29 - X fan sighting of N at JD's play, Supposed location: Sheffield ➡️ Probable location: Mother's Day trip w/ L (Brighton?)

•April 6 - Louisa/ JD Galway pic and X fan sighting of Nic shopping in Galway, April 8 - Z fan sighting of N on a plane back from Galway. Supposed location: Galway ➡️ Probable location: returning from Mother's Day trip w/ L

Note: this gives me first week of Dec. vibes after the KS event w/ N everywhere all at once but really traveling to Rome w/ L (gelato anyone? 🤭🍦

Publicity that was not intended to be travel decoy related would be i.e. - adjacent appearances at awards shows or after party events. That's just plain 'ole visibility usually followed by a press article w/ further adjacent promotion. (Caveat: imo, sometimes JD would be used as decoy for L when attending events w/ N 😉)

Hopefully, none of this will be necessary soon and no one will be trying to catch them anywhere. Instead they'll be out & about proudly, together at so many events it will be the second coming of Tomdaya!

#all in time time will reveal #lukola in #adjacents out

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redroomreflections · 1 year ago

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Out of Office

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: R gets a special surprise to her office

The Loud House Universe (this is not an au of the au. This is real life =))

W/c:3.8k

Play this when you read it https://open.spotify.com/track/4isk4UYRcmslphcTq61xUg?si=1vKGqQ_uQ2-Go9CEdnRq_g

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI

One of the perks of being the Assistant District Attorney of New York City is having your own corner office. The large windows offer a stunning looking of the bustling skyline of New York City. Of course the perks go beyond just the offices. There’s the satisfaction of tackling high-profile cases, the thrill of courtroom victories, and the respect that comes with the title. Today, you’re enjoying one of those benefits that’s seeming to be more like a con.

This meeting was boring to say the least. The topic had been on a rise of criminal activity in the area and how to prevent it. Normally, you would have been all ears. However, this meeting was anything but normal. It was the first meeting after the holidays and your coworkers were still in the post-Christmas mood.

The usual professional atmosphere was gone.

You sit in a chair across from the head of the long table, listening as best you can to the discussion.

"How about we continue this tomorrow?" Alex Cabot, your DA and overhead suggested. "Y/n? Any objection to that?"

You look up in surprise, wondering if you had missed something.

"No, not at all."

Alex smiles at you and then at the other two women.

"I think that's a good idea." You agree. "I'll get back to you with my thoughts on the Coleman case."

The three other women begin packing up their bags and heading out.

"Thanks for the meeting." You say as you get up and gather your things. "It was very informative."

Alex chuckles, clearly seeing right through your fib. "You used to be a much better liar than that."

"I'm just trying to be polite." You smile. "After all, we are in a room full of lawyers."

Alex laughs. "That we are. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow."

You leave the room, feeling like you could breathe again. You head to your office and stop by your assistant's desk in order to check mail and messages. The meeting was supposed to be thirty minutes and lasted more than an hour. You were more than tired. You were ready for the day to be over.

"Hey Y/n, a message came in for you earlier." Your assistant, Haley says. "You still need to review the police report for Jones and Jones. Also, an interview with Cass Daniels."

You sigh and look down at the file you're holding.

"Great, I'm swamped. Is the file with the Jones's case available?"

Haley nods and hands you a brown folder.

"Anything else I can help with?"

You shake your head and smile. "Unfortunately, not this time around."

"Hey, y/l/n, “ Your colleague Doug Stone greets. He does a little jog over to the desk.

"Hi, Doug, " You return. "Just the man I was looking for."

He looks confused. "Really?"

You hand him the file. "I just spoke with Alex. She says she wants you to handle the Jones case."

"But what about the-"

"I already reviewed it and made notes." You interrupt. "Just make sure to check out the new witnesses and that'll be it."

"Okay, so no problem." Doug nods, looking unsure. "Anything else I can do?"

You smile and shake your head. "Actually," You smirk. Just to get under his skin.

"Oh no," Doug shakes his head.

"I need you to get me a copy of the police report." You finish.

"You have one."

You shrug. "I think it would be a good idea to double check."

Doug rolls his eyes. "You know I came over here to see if you could ask the misses to go ahead and make some of that special eggnog she made over the holidays. Special order just for me."

You move to rebuttal when you hear a familiar husky voice behind you. You turn to see your wife standing there with that familiar smirk on her face. Natasha stepped further into the floor, her presence commanding attention. She had chosen a slightly floral midi dress that hugged her curves, the soft fabric contrasting with her typical demeanor. With her red hair pulled back and her eyes sharp and observant, she exuded a mix of elegance and strength.

"You can ask me yourself," Natasha grinned. She stepped closer to you and wrapped her arm around your waist. You landed a quick kiss to her head before looking over at Haley with questioning eyes. She's supposed to remind you if something important like your wife visiting.

"Sorry," She apologizes, quickly. "I was just about to tell you."

"It's okay, Haley," You wave off, smiling. "What brings you by, baby?"

"Can a girl come visit her wife in her office? I'm sure Tammy comes to see you all the time right, Doug?" Natasha tilts her head.

"Uhh..um, yes," Doug stumbles over his words.

Natasha gives him a smile. "Good." She looks up at you. "So, how's your day, babe? I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"Not at all," You answer.

"Actually, y/l/n has some errands to run," Doug cuts in.

"And Doug has a case to take over," You reply. Natasha looks suspiciously between the two of you.

"We're not going to have a problem, are we?" She asks.

"Of course not." Doug assures.

Natasha nods and smiles. "I'd hate to have to break up this lover's quarrel you two are having. But I would like to spend some time with you before your lunch is over." By the look in her eyes, you know exactly why she's come to your office so unexpectedly.

"Not a problem," You nod.

"I'm free for the rest of the day," Doug says. You send him a glare. "I'll just get a start on those files." He adds before making himself scarce.

You give him a thumbs up. "Perfect. Haley, cancel my meetings for the next hour."

"Sure thing,"

You take Natasha's hand and lead her down the hallway towards your office.

"I love it when you get bossy," Natasha whispers, biting her lip. You feel the blush creeping up your neck.

"That was nothing," You wave off. You walk before her into the office to clear up a few things on the couch. The last thing she needs is to see how messy you are at work. "Where's Luke and Paige?"

"I left them with my mom today," She says disinterestedly.

"Oh, that's cool then," You nod.

"Now do you want to hear about Luke's diapering schedule, or should we talk about other things?" She steps over to you. It's then you notice the heels she's wearing. Those sexy Manolo Blahnik pumps in a deep blue that accentuates all of her curves.

"I think I want to talk about whatever you want to talk about," You answer honestly. You place your hands on her hips and pull her close. She giggles, placing her hands on your chest.

"Good," She leans in for a quick peck. "You're in a good mood today."

"That's because you're here." You hum. "You taste good."

"Lemon and ginger," She smiles.

"That's what it was. You taste delicious." You lean in again and capture her lips in a deeper kiss. Your tongue glides over her lips, coaxing them open. "Mm, I think you should surprise me in the office every day."

"If only I could." Natasha sighs. "Your coworkers would get tired of me or become jealous of you."

"I don't care." You whisper against her lips. "I only care about what's happening right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha bites her lip.

You nod and reach around, smacking her ass. "That's what you're here for right? You couldn't wait for me to come home?"

"Something like that." She grins. She leans forward to kiss you again. This time as a distraction while she unbuttons your silk button down with her nimble fingers. Her lips are soft and warm against yours.

You pull away from the kiss and smirk. "We can't have sex in the office."

"That's a first." Natasha chuckles. "Why not?"

"I don't know if I'll want to stop after one round," You sigh when her hands find bare skin underneath your shirt.

"Hmm, we'll have to be quick then." Natasha murmurs, pressing her lips to your neck.

"I don't know," You groan when her teeth scrape across your pulse point. "You're quite loud."

"I guess you'll just have to keep me quiet," Natasha bites down on your neck. You let out a whimper, your body shivering.

"Damn it, Tasha," You growl.

She pulls back and flashes you a wide grin. "Do you think you can keep me quiet?"

"I don't know if I want you to be quiet," You open your eyes.

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha grins. She pulls your shirt down off of your shoulder, revealing your lacey black bra. She moves to do the same to the other side.

"Natasha," You warn.

"I'm just looking," She says as her eyes roam over your torso. "Admiring."

"Yeah, admiring is going to get us in trouble," You shake your head.

"Fine, fine," She steps back, taking her warmth and heat with her.

"Are you pouting?"

"I am," Natasha lowers her hands onto her hips. "You're denying me what I want."

"Come here," You offer a hand. She takes it and you lead her over to the couch. You sit down and pull her onto your lap. She settles her knees on either side of your hips and rests her hands on your shoulders. You begin rubbing her thighs, smoothing your hands across the smooth nylon of her leggings before you rip them. The sound drowning out the harsh breaths both of you are taking. You're so glad this office is at the corner and also doesn't have glass windows. Of course, she always gets what she wants.

"I thought you said we can't have sex."

"We're not," You murmur, your eyes focusing on the swell of her breast. "But we can do other things."

"Other things," Natasha nods. "Like what?"

"Just sit there and let me touch you," You say, pulling her down for a kiss. "You don't have any objection to that, do you?"

"None," Natasha says softly, her breath fanning over your lips. At the first press of your thumb against damp panties, Natasha lets out the sharpest squeak deep from the back of her throat.

"Told you that you would be loud."

"Shut up." She moans, her hips canting forward, chasing the contact. You give her another rub through the soaked material, her wetness seeping through. "Are you going to tease me?"

"Yes," You answer simply, kissing the exposed skin of her chest.

"Fuck, baby." Natasha groans.

"Shhh," You tsk, "Be a good girl and stay quiet for me."

"I want you inside," Natasha lowers her head to look you in your eyes. She reaches behind her back to unzip herself. She lifts her dress over her head and drops it onto the floor. She leans back over you and presses her chest to yours.

"I have a feeling this isn't going to end well." You groan, your eyes focused on her soft and supple breasts.

"I don't think we're going to get caught."

"Maybe." You murmur.

"Y/n, are you listening?"

"Huh?" You snap out of your daze. It's then you feel another wave of arousal as she releases her hair from its ponytail. She leans back on her hands and gives you a smug smile.

"Are you listening, Mrs. Romanoff?"

"I'm listening," You swallow thickly. You can't help but take her in.

"So, how about it?"

You look at her confused. "How about what?"

"I knew you weren't listening," Natasha laughs.

"I was thinking about how gorgeous you are," You admit. "How sexy you are. All the things I want to do to you."

"Oh yeah?" She grins. "Like what?"

"Well," You start, running a finger across her cheek. "First, I would have you sit there and watch as I undress."

"I'm interested," She looks you over. You should probably take those pants off unless you want them to be ruined with her juices. Not that you would mind it that much.

"I would go slowly. I would leave on my heels and my bra."

"Your bra?" She arches a brow. "No, take off your bra."

"Are you going to be difficult, or can I finish?"

"I'm sorry, continue," She waves a hand.

"Anyway, I would leave my heels and bra on. Then I would lay back on the couch and spread my legs for you. I'd want you to use your mouth and fingers."

"Mmm," Natasha hums.

"I'd have you fuck me with your fingers until I came all over them." You whisper, tracing her lips. "Then I would do the same to you. Just how you like it."

"How many times would you make me come?"

"Until you can't take it anymore." You answer. "Then I would clean you up with my mouth. Would you like that?"

"Fuck, yes," Natasha moans, her hips bucking against yours.

"Are you turned on, Tasha?"

"I'm beyond that," She admits. "I've been thinking about this since this morning."

"Yeah? You couldn't wait to have my hands on you."

"No," She whines.

You tap her thighs, instructing her to lift up so that you can strip yourself of your clothes. You rush over to the office door, locking it to ensure you won't be disturbed.

"What are you doing?" Natasha calls.

"Just making sure no one comes in and sees you like this," You explain, stepping back over to her. "They can't see what's mine."

"Would you let them watch?" She dares to ask.

"No," You growl, pulling her into your arms.

"And here I thought the idea would turn you on." She teases, trailing a finger along your collarbone.

"It does," You answer truthfully.

"But," She raises her brow.

"It turns me on to know that they can't have you," You admit. "Only I can touch you and see you."

"Touching has been minimal," She raises a perfectly arched brow.

"You're right," You smirk.

"How about we fix that," She whispers.

You nod and sit back down, taking her with you. You help to slide her panties off, tossing them to the side, before you get an idea. You pull her over to your desk, her eyes following yours quizzically before you bend her over. Your hands rub against the expanse of her back. You can't take your eyes off her perked-up ass and pussy on display for you.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting an idea."

"For?"

"This," You say, sliding a finger inside of her. Her walls tighten around the intrusion, and you let out a low moan.

Natasha's back arches and she hisses. You know it's not a sound of pain but pleasure. She wasn't expecting you to do it but she for damn sure loves it.

"I knew you'd be turned on by this," You tell her. You pump your finger a few more times before adding another.

"I am," Natasha agrees.

"Is this what you want, Tasha?” You slap her ass. "For me to fuck you like this. Have you dripping all over my desk?"

"Y/n," Natasha groans. "Stop teasing and give me what I want."

"What do you want, Natasha?" You question, curling your fingers. Twisting them as you thrust back into her.

"I want you to make me come."

"Not yet." You tell her. "I want to hear you."

"Baby," She whines, her hips rocking against the desk.

"What is it?"

"You're driving me crazy." She pants. "You have no idea what this is doing to me."

"I have some idea," You say cheekily as you watch your fingers, glistening with her slick, slide in and out of her with ease.

"Stop teasing and fuck me," She hisses.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Please, y/n." She moans. "I'm so wet for you."

"I know," You hum. You push her legs open a bit wider. "Stay still for me."

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You lean over and pepper her back with kisses. Her skin is so warm and soft. You wish you could take your time, but you're both already on borrowed time. You speed up then, using your hips to add the slightest bit of force behind your thrusts. You know she likes it, her body shivering beneath you.

"That's it," She coos.

You place a hand on her back and move your thumb to her clit. You begin rubbing it in slow, circular motions. Natasha turns her head against the cool surface of the desk, her nipples becoming hard pebbles against the wood.

"I love seeing you like this," You whisper. "Taking everything I have to give."

Natasha's only response is a deep whimper. Not good enough for you.

"You love taking my fingers," You taunt. "But not as much as I love giving them to you."

"Shit, y/n, fuck." Natasha's body begins trembling. Her breathing becomes uneven. Her pussy walls fluttering against your fingers.

"Are you going to come, Tasha?"

"Yes, fuck." She cries. "Make me come, baby."

"Fuck, I love it when you call me that." You groan. You add a third finger, pumping faster. Her body quakes as you hit the right spot. Her toes curl as her orgasm tears through her body. Her moans are unbridled now, and you reach forward to press a hand against her mouth. That seems to turn her on more. Her body shaking beneath yours. Her body jerking from the aftershocks.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm better than okay," She grins. "But if you don't fuck me again in the next five minutes, I'm leaving."

"Turn around," You instruct her. You help her on shaky legs to turn around and sit on your desk. This is going to be a bit more difficult to maneuver but you do. You drop to your knees and grab her thighs to pull her to the edge of the desk.

"I've need to taste you all day," You murmur to yourself.

"Baby," Natasha whimpers, her fingers resting atop your head. "I need you."

"You have me," You reply before swiping your tongue through her folds. She's so warm and delicious.

"Don't tease," She gasps, her legs trembling.

You look up at her from your place between her legs. Your eyes never leave hers as you wrap your lips around her clit, sucking.

"Just like that," She adds the gentlest bit of pressure for you to bob your head. The slurping noises for added effect have her head dropping down she can't handle it. "So close, baby. Don't stop."

"Never," You murmur against her. "I love this. Love eating you out."

"Y/n," She gasps, her hips lifting off the desk.

"Come for me, Natasha," You coax her.

She's so close to the edge, and she can't help it. She's helpless against the orgasm that rips through her body. She can barely hold herself up as you suck her through the orgasm, lapping up the juices spilling from her.

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You stand and kiss her, your tongue tangling with hers.

"Let me," She finally pulls back. She pulls you down to the floor before she pushes you onto your back. Rug burn be damned.

"Tasha," You gasp when she wastes no time in slipping two fingers inside of you.

"You're so wet," She groans. "I love you." She nuzzles your neck.

"I love you too." You murmur, reaching down to guide her thumb to your clit. "Harder."

Natasha's body covers yours. Her lips latch onto your neck. Her teeth scrape along the flesh. You know you're going to have a hickey there tomorrow. It doesn't matter. You're hers and she's yours.

"Tasha," You groan. "Please."

"Shh," She whispers, her other hand caressing your breast. She pinches your nipple, delighting in the shiver that runs through your body.

"Please," You beg her. "Make me come."

"Anything for you," Natasha smirks, curling her fingers. She thrusts harder. Faster.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." You warn her, your body tensing.

"I've got you," Natasha tells you. "I've got you, baby." She coos as you whimper pitifully.

"Don't stop," You beg. "Oh my god, don't stop."

"Never," She growls. "Come for me, y/n. I want you to soak my hand."

You cry out as you reach your peak. Your back arches off the carpet, and you ram yourself onto her fingers. You don't want to lose this feeling.

"Fuck, I can't," You sob.

"You can," She whispers, her breath fanning across your lips. "One more. Come on, baby."

"I can't," You sob. "Tasha, please."

"I've got you," Natasha promises.

Your body begins shaking as a second orgasm rips through your body. You're unable to form words as you're consumed by your desire. You don't even remember that you're at work and the possibility that if anyone were to come by your office, they could probably hear you.

"There you go," Natasha smiles, her eyes focused on you. "I'm right here, baby."

"Tasha," You whimper.

"Right here."

"Don't move," You pant.

Natasha uses her unoccupied hand to open the bottom drawer of your desk and take out a towel.

"What are you doing?" You ask her.

"I'm going to clean you up," She says, gently wiping your inner thighs.

"Thank you," You whisper.

"Always," She smiles.

"You're so good to me."

"You're pretty good to me," She winks, kissing the top of your head.

"What time is it?"

"Time for us to get the hell out of here." Natasha laughs.

"You're right," You sigh. "Can we go home?"

"I was thinking maybe we could order a pizza, put on a movie, and have dessert later."

"I think I could deal with that." You nod. "I can't walk just yet."

"I'll carry you," Natasha teases with a smug look.

"Shut up," You laugh, swatting her away. "You know you're a little cocky after we fuck."

"And you're cute."

"Stop," You groan.

"I don't want to," Natasha replies.

"What do you want?"

"You," She answers. "Always."

"I'll be yours forever."

"Forever," She repeats.

"We should go," You whisper.

"I'm ready when you are."

"Let's get out of here."

Coming out of the office would be a little awkward. You should probably open a window. Your cheeks heat up at the thought. It was some of the hottest sex you had with her, and you can't believe that it happened here.

"You look nervous," Natasha notes.

"I'm not," You say.

"Liar."

"Tasha, come on. Let's go home."

"Whatever you say," She grins, taking your hand in hers.

"You're annoying," You mutter.

"And yet, you still love me."

"Unfortunately," You grin.

"I heard that," She calls.

"I meant for you to hear it."

"Brat," She says affectionately.

You really do love her.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #minors dni #Spotify

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shelovesosa · 2 months ago

Text

ONLY THREW THIS PARTY 4 U.

Art credits to ndsoda and _3aem on X!

INSPIRED BY “THE GREAT GATSBY”

modern Tokyo Bay, two distinct areas: East aoyama(old money) and West aoyama (new wealth).

CONTAINS: MDNI. Drama, romance, Desire, yearning, cheating, unhappy marriage,eventual SMUT, oral ( f + m receiving), switch satoru, whimpering, fingering, sex during a party,p in v , intercourse, explicit sex, backshots of DOOM, cowgirl style, agnst, party, mentions of alcohol, possessing, controlling behavior,

C/W : 10.7k omg

SUMMARY! You, a wealthy socialite trapped in a cold, strategic marriage to Ryomen Sukuna, return to your coastal hometown for the summer. There, you reconnect with Satoru Gojo, your rich and reckless childhood flame who never got over you. Now a man of influence and mystery, Satoru begins pursuing you again with quiet intensity—pulling you back into a romance that was never finished.

You arrived in East Aoyama beneath a sky so blue it looked painted on. The heat pressed heavy against the windows of Shoko’s estate, warping the view of the bay, where sailboats drifted like idle thoughts. The mansion she owned wasn’t large by local standards—three floors, not five—but it had white columns, trimmed hedges, and a garden that smelled like old money and afternoon wine.

You weren’t supposed to stay long. A few weeks, maybe. Just enough time to escape the scandal of Tokyo proper, to let the tabloids grow bored of your name. You were tired of the whispering, of the dinner parties that turned into interrogations.

They always wanted to know the same thing. Were you really leaving Sukuna? And worse: was it for him?

You didn’t answer. You never did. There were some names too dangerous to say aloud. Even now, as you unpacked your designer luggage in Shoko’s sunlit guest room, you refused to let yourself think about him too clearly.

Satoru Gojo.

You knew him long before the parties. Before the mystery. Before the white suits and the silence. He was born into the Gojo line—old, blinding wealth. His mother and yours had been close once, thrown together in boarding schools and country clubs, raised by nannies and bloodlines. You and Satoru had spent summers together as children, bored out of your minds on your families’ overlapping estates in the Kyoto countryside.

You remembered swimming in lakes and stealing your father’s cigars. You remembered dares, arguments, and a secret kiss behind the linen-draped veranda at seventeen. But then things changed. He left for Europe. You stayed. You married Ryomen Sukuna, a match approved by your family’s advisors. Love had little to do with it.

And Satoru? He reappeared two years ago with wealth that made even old families nervous. No one knew how he doubled his estate. No one asked. He bought the mansion across the bay and began throwing parties so elaborate they broke the rules of decency and physics.

You hadn’t seen him since your engagement party. He’d shown up late, dressed in mourning black, and kissed your cheek with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He hadn’t said a word since.

“Don’t mope,” Shoko said from her lounge chair by the pool. “You’ll get lines. Or worse, pity.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not moping.”

“You’re absolutely moping. The first sign is that you haven’t posted since Monday.”

“I’m in exile, Shoko.”

“You’re in a mansion with custom furniture and an unlimited credit account. Try harder.”

You sighed and stretched out on the chaise beside her, watching the way the light danced across the water. From here, you could see the Gojo estate. Across the bay, past the curve of palm trees and imported marble statues, his mansion stood like a dream someone had once dared to build. It had balconies stacked like a wedding cake, crystal windows that caught the sunset like fire, and a dock that shimmered in the twilight.

He’d never invited you.

Not once.

But tonight, a letter arrived.

Hand-delivered by a man in a dark suit. No stamp, no return address. Just your name, written in silver ink on bone-white paper. And a seal on the back—an ornate G pressed into wax. You opened it slowly, like it might burn.

Y/N,

Saturday evening. Eight o’clock.

Come as you are.

—S

Shoko raised a brow when you told her.

“He hasn’t invited a single woman directly in months,” she said. “He lets the parties pull them in like gravity. You’re different.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat had gone dry. Because you understood what this was. It wasn’t a party invitation. It was a challenge.

Shoko dressed you like she was sending you into battle. “No pastels,” she declared, pulling open your travel wardrobe. “No bows. No florals. This isn’t a tea party. This is Gojo’s house.”

You let her choose. You always did. It was easier that way, to be sculpted into someone else's vision of you. Tonight, you wore midnight blue, cut low along your back, your neck bare except for the sapphire choker you hadn’t worn since your wedding night. A single diamond ring on your right hand—not your wedding band. That had been left in a drawer somewhere back in Tokyo. You told yourself it didn’t matter.You weren’t going to see him.You were going to a party.

The car ride across the bay was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the sound of the ocean beyond the cliffs. From a distance, the Gojo estate looked like a dream in motion—music already spilling into the air, lights flickering like stars across its many terraces. Fireworks bloomed above it in bursts of gold and violet, and still, the house seemed calm at its core, unmoved by its own gravity.

Your driver stopped at the front steps, where a valet in a white uniform opened the door before you could reach the handle. No names were asked. No guest list checked. Your presence was expected.

Inside, the world shifted.

The foyer alone was cathedral-high, with mirrored walls and chandeliers so heavy they must’ve been flown in by crane. Music spilled through hidden speakers—something classical, cut with jazz. People danced in every room, masks slipping, champagne overflowing. Men in velvet suits laughed with women draped in diamonds. Models lounged on the grand piano. An ice sculpture of a phoenix melted slowly into a silver basin.

You moved like you belonged—because you did. You were born into this. Sculpted by it. But still, you felt watched. Hunted, even. He was here somewhere.You could feel it.

And then, a voice at your back.

Smooth. Soft. Too casual for its own power.

“Still like blue, huh?”

You turned.

He looked exactly as you remembered—and nothing like you remembered at all.

Satoru Gojo stood there, all white linen and smug danger. His hair had gone silver-blond, no longer hidden under the baseball caps of your youth. His glasses were tinted, though it was long past sunset. You wondered if he wore them just to keep people guessing.

But his smile—God, that smile.It hadn’t changed at all.

“Still like lurking in doorways?” you asked, trying to stay even.

“I was waiting for you.” He offered his arm.

“Come on. The party’s boring without you.”

You didn’t know why you took it. Maybe it was the way the room shifted when he looked at you. Maybe it was the echo of seventeen, of that one drunken kiss behind your father’s rose garden. Maybe it was the thrill of finally being seen—truly seen—after years of becoming invisible in your own life.

He led you through the maze of people and rooms, past the laughter and the chaos, until you found yourselves on the west balcony, away from the noise. The sea stretched out before you, glittering under the moonlight.Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then he said, “Do you remember the lake?”

You did. Of course you did. But you lied.

“No.”

“Liar.”

He smiled again, but this one was gentler. Fonder. As if he could still see the girl you used to be—barefoot on the dock, daring him to jump first.

“I remember everything,” he said. “And I remember you said you’d never come back here. Not to this world.”

You looked out over the edge of the balcony.

“I didn’t.”

“Then what are you doing at my party, Y/N?”

You turned to him slowly. “I don’t know.”

It was the truth.

You stayed longer than you meant to.

He didn’t ask questions. He told stories instead—some funny, some surreal. About racing yachts with politicians, about spending a summer in Sicily with a priest who quoted poetry. You laughed, despite yourself. But under the charm, you could feel the current.He hadn’t invited you to make you laugh.He’d invited you because he wanted something.

And just before you left, as he walked you to the car, he said it.

“Don’t go back to him.”

The words weren’t dramatic. There was no beg, no plea. Just a statement. Quiet. Terrible.

You looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said. “But it could be.”

The car door closed behind you with a sound like finality.But as the driver pulled away, you glanced back.

Satoru stood on the steps in the golden light, his hands in his pockets, his tie slightly loosened. He wasn’t smiling now.

And you knew, without question—

The game had begun.

You didn’t tell Shoko what he said.

She asked, of course. She always did. Curled up on the balcony with a cigarette in one hand and her wine glass in the other, she had that knowing look—the one she used to dissect other people’s love lives like case studies. But you just smiled and said, “It was a party. That’s all.”

She didn’t press. Not yet. But you knew she would. And when she did, you’d have to lie again. You weren’t ready to explain how it felt to stand beside Satoru Gojo again. How wrong and right it had felt in equal measure.You weren’t ready to admit you hadn’t slept at all.

His name started showing up everywhere after that. Or maybe you just started seeing it again. A charity gala was hosted “courtesy of S. Gojo.” A new gallery in Minato—he was on the board. Your favorite café started serving a cocktail called Sky Blue, made with rare French gin and smoked sugar. Even your phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number one afternoon.

Tell Shoko to stop overwatering the orchids. They're dying.

You stared at it for five minutes before responding:

How did you get this number?

Money.

Try again.

You gave it to me when we were sixteen. You carved it into my wristwatch.

Your stomach dropped.

You remembered the watch. A cheap thing you stole from your father’s study one summer, etched with a nail file and teenage arrogance. You hadn’t thought of it in years.And now he was sending you memories like weapons.

That weekend, you received a second invitation. This time, it wasn’t to a party.

It was to lunch. Private. Tuesday. His estate. No guests. You shouldn’t have gone.You told yourself you weren’t going.

You told Shoko you were getting your hair done.But at noon, you stood outside his towering front doors again, half-mad at yourself for wearing the soft pink dress he once said made you look

“like a cherry blossom ready to ruin someone’s life.”

The door opened before you could knock.

“Punctual,” he said. “I expected drama.”

You stepped inside without answering.

This time, there was no orchestra. No flashing lights. No guests twirling in silk.

Just silence—and him.

Satoru in a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, barefoot on polished wood floors like the crown prince of a ruined temple. He poured two glasses of wine without asking and handed one to you.

“You look good,” he said, too easily.

You stared at him. “Why did you invite me here?”

He smirked. “You don’t want lunch?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then come eat.”

He led you to the back patio where a table was set for two, overlooking the water. The view from his estate made the rest of the bay look like an afterthought—green stretching endlessly into blue, the occasional yacht slicing white lines through the surface.You sat.You didn’t talk much at first.There was grilled fish, garden vegetables, lemon tarts. The food was perfect. Everything was perfect. That’s what made it so unbearable.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally.

“I’m trying to decide what this is.”

He leaned back in his chair. “It’s lunch.”

“It’s not.”

His gaze met yours. Clear. Sharp. “Then what is it, Y/N?”

You hated that he said your name like that—like it belonged to him.You wanted to say it was nothing. That it was history. That it was a mistake. But the silence between you already said what you couldn’t.

This wasn’t a game anymore.

He stood suddenly. Walked toward the edge of the patio, where the sea breeze tugged at his shirt.

“You know, when we were kids,” he said, not looking back, “I used to think the world would just… give us everything. Because of who we were. Because of our names.”

You said nothing.

“But then it didn’t. Not the things that mattered.”

He turned to face you, and you saw it—the truth behind the sunglasses. Not arrogance. Not vanity. But hunger. Desperation. The quiet, consuming ache of someone who had everything but the one thing he wanted.

“You left,” he said, and his voice dropped. “You married him. You didn’t even tell me goodbye.”

“You were in Paris,” you said quietly.

“I would’ve come back.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

That broke something. You saw it in his jaw. The way his shoulders tensed, just slightly. The way he nodded once, slow.

“I know,” he said. “That’s what killed me.”

You didn’t finish your wine. You stood. Walked toward the house. He didn’t stop you. But just before you left, you paused in the doorway and said, without turning around:“I didn’t think you’d wait.”

His answer came after a beat.

“I didn’t either.”

You returned to Shoko’s estate just before dusk, your heels echoing down the marble hallway like accusations. She was waiting for you in the lounge with a magazine draped lazily over her knees and a knowing expression that could’ve pierced steel.

“Well?” she asked without looking up.

“Well, what?”

She flipped a page. “Did he feed you? Or just your delusions?”

You exhaled, dropped your bag, and poured yourself a drink. “Both.”

Shoko didn’t press. Not yet. But that’s what made her dangerous—she didn’t need to. She just watched, waited, and collected your tells like cards in a stacked deck. You hated how transparent you’d become.

It didn’t end with the lunch.

The next day, a car arrived. No note, no chauffeur—just keys and a name engraved on a silver plaque: For Y/N. Inside was a vintage roadster, the kind of car no one drove anymore except to make a point.You ignored it.

The next day, he sent orchids. White and rare. Each petal dipped in gold dust.

You returned them.

But on the third day, he showed up himself.No announcement. No security. Just Satoru Gojo at your front gate, leaning on the stone pillar like he was born there.You were in your robe. Of course you were.

“You’re insane,” you said through the intercom.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Great.” He pushed open the gate.

You didn’t stop him. You should have. But when he walked in, hands in his pockets, smirking like the devil in linen, you couldn’t remember why you were supposed to resist.

“I thought you didn’t do afternoon visits,” you said.

“I don’t,” he replied, stepping into your

sunroom. “But I make exceptions for people I’m still in love with.”

You froze.

He said it so simply. So casually. As if it were just a fact—like the weather or his bank balance.

“I don’t have time for this,” you said.

“Of course you do,” he replied, walking past you toward the terrace. “You’re in hiding. The only thing you’re busy doing is pretending this doesn’t mean anything.”

You joined him outside because you had nothing better to do. That’s what you told yourself. You drank tea. He drank scotch.

And slowly, you began to talk. Not about the big things. Not about the years apart, or the marriage, or the last letter you never sent. But about the in-betweens—the socialites who tried too hard, the friends who were already on their third divorces.

You told him about your time in Rome last spring, the gallery opening in Seoul, the time Sukuna forgot your birthday and tried to make up for it with a yacht. He listened. God, he listened.

He leaned forward when you spoke. Smiled at your sarcasm. Remembered the names you dropped and the ones you didn't. And when you paused too long between stories, he would fill the silence—not with noise, but with presence. A gaze that never drifted. A steadiness you hadn't felt in years.

It terrified you.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone was looking at you—not your name, not your family, not your scandal—but you.

“I wanted to hate you, you know,” you said as the sun dipped lower. “When I got married. I told myself it had to be your fault.”

Satoru sipped his drink. “Was it?”

You looked away. “Maybe.”

A quiet pause.

“I hated myself more.”

You glanced at him, surprised.

“For not saying something sooner,” he clarified. “For thinking I had time.”

His tone was light, but the edge was there—sharp and hidden beneath silk. And you knew, without asking, that he hadn’t moved on. Not even close.

You swallowed hard. “What are we doing, Satoru?”

He didn’t flinch. “I’m waiting for you to remember who you are.”

“And who’s that?”

His voice dropped.

“Mine.”

You didn’t kiss him. You didn’t run.

You just sat there, on the terrace, the tea cold and forgotten, as the sky bled itself into a purple bruise. You didn’t know what you were to him anymore. A fantasy? A challenge? A memory he refused to let rot?

But when he finally stood and said he had to leave, you almost asked him to stay.

Almost. Instead, you nodded. “Don’t come tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” he said. “You’ll come to me.”

And damn him.

He was right.

The first thing you noticed when you returned to Tokyo was the silence.

Not the absence of noise—no, the city was always alive, pulsing under its concrete skin. But the silence—the deliberate kind, the kind that lived inside penthouses and private cars and people who knew how to weaponize it.

Sukuna didn’t greet you when you walked through the front door. He didn’t ask about your stay with Shoko, didn’t mention the Gojo estate, didn’t even glance at the bag you hadn’t bothered to unpack.

But his silence was an answer all the same. You were being watched.

Ryomen Sukuna was a man who made people nervous in rooms he hadn’t even entered yet. He wore power like a second skin, his sharp smile more unsettling than any threat could ever be. You married him because your families said it was time. Because it made sense. Because if you didn’t say yes, someone else would’ve—and you weren’t ready to be forgotten.

He hadn’t always been cruel.

Just… careful. Cold.

Too precise to leave room for love.

At dinner, he didn’t touch his food. He rarely did. Instead, he watched you. Elbows on the table. Fingers steepled. His rings catching the chandelier light like little knives.

“You’ve been gone two weeks,” he said finally.

“Shoko needed company.”

“I heard Shoko was barely home.”

You sipped your wine. “I made do.”

A long pause.

“And Satoru Gojo?” he asked.

You didn’t flinch. That was the trick—you never flinched. “What about him?”

“He throws parties like he’s paying penance. Gathers ghosts like trophies. And now suddenly, you’re the only name on his list?”

He tilted his head, smiling faintly.

“Darling,” he said, “don’t insult me.”

You looked at your plate. “Is that what this is now? Interrogation over steak tartare?”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping. “This is a warning.”

Your gaze snapped to his.

“I don’t mind if you play with your past,” he continued, smooth as silk. “We all do. But I won’t be made a fool.”

“You mean publicly.”

“I mean at all.”

There it was. The line. Not jealousy. Possession. You had always known what Sukuna was. He didn’t love you. He kept you. Like art behind glass. And now someone was trying to break it open.

That night, you didn’t sleep beside him.

You stayed in your own room—one of many in your shared palace, filled with designer silence and mirrored regrets. You poured yourself a drink and stared at your reflection until your eyes blurred.

Gojo had been reckless with his affections. But Sukuna? He was careful with his cruelty.And that was worse.

Because it meant everything he did was intentional.

The next morning, a package arrived at your suite. No return address. But the moment you saw the seal, you knew.

A white envelope, wax-stamped with a

single letter: G

Inside was a note, handwritten in that impossible script of his.

You looked tired. I’d suggest better company. Dinner. My place. Midnight. Wear black. —S

You folded it quietly. Then, without hesitation, you reached for the black silk gown in your closet—the one Sukuna hated. The one he once said made you look like “trouble.” He wasn’t wrong.

The clock struck midnight when your car pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Gojo estate.The windows were lit like a stage, glowing with soft amber light. No music. No guests. No champagne towers or glittering crowds. Just quiet. Like he’d cleared the world for you.

You stepped out wearing black—just as he’d asked. A long silk gown, simple but impossible to ignore, like moonlight stitched into skin. Your heels clicked softly on the marble as the door opened before you could knock.

Satoru was waiting in the foyer.

No tie. Shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Hands in his pockets like he wasn’t nervous—like this wasn’t a risk.

“You came,” he said.

“I always do.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes this time.

Dinner was untouched on the long table. Silver lids gleamed, candles burned low. But neither of you reached for the food.

You walked past it all, straight through the hall, until you reached the terrace. The wind curled around your shoulders like a warning.

“I didn’t come for dinner,” you said.

“I know.”

You turned to face him.

“So what are we doing, Satoru?”

He looked at you like you were something holy and haunted all at once. “We’re telling the truth. For once.”

He took a step closer.

“I loved you before I even knew what love was,” he said, voice low. “Back when it was just a word we weren’t allowed to say out loud. You used to sit in the back of your father’s car and make faces at me through the glass like a brat. And I used to pray for red lights.”

You looked away, blinking too hard.

“You were the only real thing I ever had,” he continued. “Everything else was bought or promised. But you—you—you chose me. At least for a little while.”

“And then I didn’t,” you said quietly.

“No,” he said. “Then you disappeared. Married Sukuna and never looked back.”

You turned sharply. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know why. You were never going to fight for me.”

“I would’ve,” he said. “But by the time I knew how, you were already gone.”

A silence fell between you—one that said everything neither of you wanted to name.

He stepped forward again. This time closer. Slowly.

“I’m not asking you to ruin your life,” he said.

You laughed bitterly. “That’s exactly what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to remember what it felt like,” he said. “Before the headlines. When it was just you and me in that half-dead summer house, planning our escape like fools.”

You blinked hard.

“I remember,” you whispered.

Then he touched your face. Soft. Reverent. Like something he’d been forbidden from holding for too long.

“Then let’s run,” he said.

You looked up at him—Satoru, the boy who loved you too much and the man who never let go. You thought of Sukuna’s silence, his threats hidden beneath silk. You thought of your name in headlines and the way the world would burn if you let it.

But all you said was:

“Where?”

His answer was a breath:

“Anywhere.”

You didn’t kiss him. Not yet.But your hands found his. And this time, you didn’t let go.

You didn’t go home that night. Instead, you stayed at the Gojo estate—just until morning, just long enough for the city to forget how to whisper about someone else. Nothing happened. Not yet.

 You slept in a guest room with sheets that smelled like rosemary and regret. The sunrise poured through the curtains like a confession. And still, you felt it—danger humming beneath the stillness. Satoru didn’t knock. He let you have your silence. But when you finally wandered downstairs, barefoot, in one of his shirts, he was already on the terrace drinking coffee.

He didn’t say anything. Just held out a cup for you. Like you’d always belonged there.

Back in Tokyo, Sukuna noticed.

Of course he did.

He didn’t ask where you’d been. He didn’t need to. He just looked at you for a second too long during breakfast, stirred his coffee once, and said, “You seem excited.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because the silence that followed was louder than anything you could’ve said.

It started slowly.A comment in a gossip column.A photo—blurry but unmistakable—of you stepping into Gojo’s car at midnight.

 The headline read: “Old Flames or New Scandal?”

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Let them talk. Let them speculate. This world was built on speculation, wasn’t it? The rich didn’t live in truths. They lived in impressions. But still… you checked the paper every morning.

 Still… you flinched when Shoko texted you:

Are you insane? Or just in love again?

You didn’t answer.

Because what could you say?

Maybe it was both.

Then came the storm. Not metaphorical.

A real one. A coastal thunderstorm with black skies and wind that tore through town like it had a vendetta. The kind of storm that canceled yachts, blacked out towers, and reminded the rich that nature, too, could be cruel. You were supposed to attend a gala that night—one hosted by Sukuna’s family, a public show of unity. Appearances. Status. Legacy.

But instead, you went to Satoru’s. You didn’t wear a gown. You didn’t wear heels. You wore black jeans, no makeup, and a trench coat you hadn’t touched in years.

He opened the door before you knocked.

The rain poured behind you like applause.

He looked at you like a man about to walk off the edge of everything.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said softly.

You stepped inside. “Neither are you.”

The power flickered. The chandelier swayed. And for once, the Gojo estate looked human—imperfect, cracked open, real.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said. Your voice trembled. Not from fear. From knowing.

Satoru looked at you with those winter-glass eyes, the ones that always saw too much.

“Then don’t,” he said. “Stay.”

You closed your eyes.

And whispered, “Okay.”

You took one breath.

Then another.

And then you reached for him.

The kiss was slow at first. Delicately.

Like you were both afraid to shatter it.

But it didn’t stay that way.Your hands tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer. He backed you against the wall with a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a growl. His lips found your neck, your collarbone, every place that still remembered him.

He touched you like he was trying to memorize you. Like he was afraid he’d wake up and find you gone again.

He lifted you like you weighed nothing and carried you through the hall, laughing when you tried to catch your breath, kissing you again before you could speak.

And when he laid you down—on his bed, in his home, in a world built entirely around the memory of you—it didn’t feel like betrayal.

It felt like coming home.

You could feel every hard contour of his physique through the the thin fabric of your blouse, his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach. Satoru's fingers tangled in your hair, tugging your head back as he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly. You moaned into the kiss, your body melting against his as liquid heat pooled between your thighs.

"Touch me, Y/n," Satoru commanded, his voice a low, urgent rasp against your lips. "I want to feel your hands all over me." His own hands slid down to grope your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he ground his hips against yours, letting you feel the thick, hard length of him straining against his pants.

You obeyed, your fingers raking down Satoru's back, leaving red welts in their wake as you mapped out the hard planes of his chest. Satoru groaned, his hips bucking forward as you traced the lines of his muscles.

Satoru's fingers found the zipper of your jeans, tugging it down with a swift, sharp motion. Cool air kissed your heated skin as the fabric fell. "Let's get this off you," Satoru muttered, pulling the blouse over your head, to let it fall to the floor with a soft rustle.

His eyes raking over your near-naked form, taking in the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. "Beautiful," he breathed, before surging forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss.

Your fingers worked feverishly at the buttons of Satoru's shirt, popping them open one by one until you could push the garment off his shoulders. Satoru's chest was a work of art.

"Such perfect tits,"

he breathed, cupping the rounded globe and squeezing gently. Your nipple pebbled beneath his touch, straining against the thin lace of your bra. Satoru's thumb circled the hardened bud, applying a maddening pressure that had you arching into his hand.

Satoru's other hand slid down your stomach, his fingers skimming over your navel before dipping, hand hovering over your panties.

"And this," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed his fingers against your clothed sex, "this is fucking soaked."

He rubbed your slit through the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating from your core. "Tell me, Y/n," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, "are you this wet for me?"

He continued his teasing touches, his fingers circling your breast and rubbing your mound, never quite giving you the pressure and friction you craved. You could feel the damp patch on your panties growing, your arousal seeping through the lace. Satoru's fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before pulling away, leaving you aching and empty.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips writhing against his hand, seeking more of his touch. "Satoru, please..." You didn't even know what you were begging for, only that you needed more. More of him, more of his touch, more of everything.

Satoru chuckled darkly, amused by your desperation. "So needy," he teased, his fingers still circling your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "So hungry for my cock."

He pressed a finger against your clothed clit, rubbing the sensitive nub. Satoru settled between your thighs, pushing your legs apart to expose your glistening sex to his hungry gaze. He leaned in, inhaling deeply, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, before diving in and running his tongue along your slit.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed as Satoru's tongue explored your most intimate places. He licked and suckled at your folds, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place as he devoured you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as you ground your hips against his face, desperate for more of his skilled ministrations.

Satoru focused his attention on your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive nub before he suckled it hard. At the same time, he slid two fingers knuckle-deep inside your tight heat, pumping them in and out, curling them to hit that special spot deep within you. You were drowning in sensation, your body writhing and shaking as Satoru worked you towards your peak.

"Satoru!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as your orgasm crashed over you. Your sex clenched and fluttered around his fingers, your juices flowing freely as he continued to lap at you, helping you ride out the waves of your intense climax. Finally, as the last aftershocks faded, Satoru lifted his head, his chin glistening with your essence.

He crawled up your body, a smug grin on his face as he brushed sweat-damped hair from your forehead. "You taste even better than I imagined," he said, his voice rough and satisfied. "And we're just getting started."

With that promise, he captured your lips, kissing you deeply as he settled his weight on top of you, his hard length pressing insistently against your stomach.

Satoru Gojo's eyes burned with desire as he watched you come down from your high, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. He could feel your heart racing beneath his palm, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. The sight of you, lost in ecstasy and utterly at his mercy, only fueled his own desire.

"You're stunning," he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I could watch you come undone like that for hours." His hand slid up your stomach, cupping the swell of your breast, kneading the soft flesh. He could feel your nipple pebbling beneath his palm, begging for his touch. Unable to resist, Satoru leaned down and captured the hardened bud between his lips, suckling hard as his tongue swirled around the sensitive peak.

You gasped, arching your back to press your breast more fully against his mouth. Your hands slid down Satoru's chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles before reaching the waistband of his pants. With shaking hands, you undid the button and zipper, tugging his pants and boxers down his hips and thighs until you could free his thick, hard length.

Satoru groaned around your breast as your fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking the long, thick shaft. He was hot and hard, the skin like velvet over steel. Pre-cum leaked from the swollen head, and you swiped your thumb over the tip, smearing the liquid around before bringing your thumb to your lips and tasting him. Satoru's flavor exploded on your tongue, salty and slightly bitter, and you knew you needed more.

Wasting no time, you pushed Satoru onto his back and straddled his waist, hovering over his straining erection. You looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes dark with lust and desire, before leaning down and taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck!" Satoru roared, his hips bucking up off the bed as your lips wrapped around his cock. You took him deep, your throat muscles fluttering around his length as you swallowed around him. Your tongue swirled around the head, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked steadily from the tip.

fingers tightened in your hair as you took him deeper, your lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock. "Shit, Y/n," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Your mouth feels incredible." His hips rocked gently, fucking your face with short, shallow thrusts as you worked his length with your lips and tongue.

You could taste the salt of his skin, feel the heat of his flesh against your tongue as you took him deeper, relaxing your throat to accommodate his size. Your hand pumped what wasn't in your mouth, stroking the slick shaft as you bobbed your head in time with Satoru's thrusts.

Satoru's other hand slid down to cup your breast, kneading the soft mound before pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations, of his cock pistoning in and out of your mouth and his fingers toying with your sensitive nipple, had you dripping with arousal. You could feel your juices coating your inner thighs, your body preparing itself for him.

Just as you felt Satoru start to tense, his grip on your hair tightening and his thrusts becoming more erratic, you pulled off his cock with a lewd pop. Satoru groaned in protest, his hips jerking up off the bed as if seeking the warmth of your mouth. But you had other plans.

You straddled his hips, hovering over his straining erection. Satoru's hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I was so close..."

"Shh," you hushed him, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've got you." With that, you took his hands and placed them on your breasts, encouraging him to touch you. Satoru needed no further urging, his fingers immediately starting to knead and caress the soft globes. He rolled and plucked at your nipples, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

As Satoru played with your breasts, you reached down between your bodies and took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance. You were so wet, his tip slipping easily through your slick folds.

Satoru’s eyes darkened with lust as you lined him up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. His hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he fought the urge to surge upward, to bury himself inside your tight heat. But he held back, wanting to let you set the pace, to watch you take him in.

"You're so fucking wet," Satoru growled, his voice strained with desire. "I can feel how much you want this, how much you need my cock inside you." His hips twitched, his length jerking against your sex as if seeking entry. Satoru's chest heaved, his muscles flexing beneath his skin as he struggled to maintain control.

Slowly, torturously, you sank down onto his length. Your walls stretched and fluttered around him, struggling to accommodate his thick girth. You both groaned, the sound echoing off the walls as inch by inch, you took him deeper. Satoru's hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds as they bounced with each inch of his cock that disappeared inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Satoru panted, his head falling back against the pillows as he savored the feeling of your sex gripping him like a vice. "I've never felt anything like this before." His hips pumped gently, shallow thrusts that helped to work his length deeper inside you, stretching you around him.

Once he was fully sheathed, you started to move. You rose up until only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt. Satoru matched your rhythm, his hips rocking up to meet yours, driving his length deeper with each downward motion. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, of your moans and Satoru's grunts of pleasure as you rode him.

Satoru Gojo's breath hitched as you sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt inside your tight, soaked heat. A low, needy whimper escaped his lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sent shivers down your spine. "Y/n, please," he gasped, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "You feel...ungh...incredible."

You could feel every throb and pulse of his cock as it stretched you wide, filling you completely. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying to draw him even deeper inside you. Satoru's chest heaved, his muscles flexing beneath his skin as he struggled to maintain control, to hold back the urge to flip you onto your back and pound into you until you screamed.

But you set the pace, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. Satoru whimpered again, his head falling back against the pillows as you started to ride him hard and fast, your hips slapping against his with each downward motion.

"Yes, just like that," Satoru encouraged, his voice a low, rough rasp. "Ride my cock, Y/n. Take what you need."

Satoru's hips rocked up to meet yours, driving his length deeper with each downward motion. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, of your moans and Satoru's whimpers and grunts of pleasure as you chased your release. You could feel it building, the coil of tension in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter as Satoru's cock hit that special spot inside you with each thrust.

"Satoru!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls as your orgasm crashed over you. Your sex clenched and fluttered around his length, Milk, squeezing him rhythmically as you came apart above him. Satoru groaned, his hips stuttering as your walls massaged his cock,

Satoru Gojo let out a choked moan as your walls clamped down around his throbbing cock, gripping him like a velvet vise as you came undone above him. "Fuck, Y/n!" he gasped, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises.

"You're squeezing me so fucking tight. I can't...I'm going to..." His words dissolved into a low, guttural groan as his orgasm overtook him, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself deep inside you.

You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, filling you up until it seeped out around his pistoning length. Satoru's body shuddered and shook beneath you, his muscles flexing and tensing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him.

You continued to rock your hips, milking him for every last drop as he emptied himself inside you. Finally, with a shuddering sigh, Satoru’s chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He looked up at you with hazy, satisfied eyes, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. "That was...incredible," he panted, his voice rough and strained. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of feminine pride at having reduced this strong, powerful man to a whimpering, pleading mess beneath you. You leaned down to capture his lips in a slow, sensual kiss, pouring all of your passion and desire into the embrace.

Satoru's hands slid up your back to tangle in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting himself on your lips. You could taste the salt of his skin, the musk of his arousal, and it made your head spin with desire all over again.

As the kiss broke, Satoru nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing against your sweat-damped skin. "Stay with me tonight," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble.

After, you lay there wrapped in sheets and stormlight. His arm around your waist. Your name whispered against your shoulder like a secret he couldn’t keep anymore.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“So am I,” he said. “But not of this.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I’m scared of losing you again.”

You didn’t answer. Because the truth was you were scared too.

You didn’t leave the Gojo estate until just before sunrise. The rain had stopped, but the world was still wet with aftermath—glossy streets, bowed trees, the taste of something new and dangerous hanging in the air. You wore yesterday’s trench coat, yesterday’s silence, and his kiss still burning at the base of your throat.

There was no driver. No press. No trace of the night you’d just surrendered to.

But you could already feel it creeping in.

The shift. The unraveling. Because something had changed—and you couldn’t put it back.

The next morning, Sukuna was in the study. He didn’t look at you when you walked in. He poured his drink, leaned against the windowsill, and said:

“You were seen.”

You didn’t pretend not to understand.

“I know.”

He turned slowly. Not angry. Not surprised. Just calculating, like a man running numbers in his head.

“Do you want a divorce?”

You blinked.

“No.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. But it wasn’t the truth either. Sukuna took a long sip of his drink. His gaze was cold and sharp, like frost on glass.

“I’ve given you freedom, haven’t I? More than anyone else would. You’ve had your parties, your charity boards, your trips, your… distractions.” His tone barely shifted, but you heard it. The threat underneath. “But don’t mistake tolerance for permission.

“I’m not yours to keep on a leash,” you said, quiet but steady.

“You’re mine,” he replied simply. “Legally. Socially. Publicly. That’s all that matters.”

You turned to leave. You didn’t slam the door.But the silence behind you sounded like a war.

The press was louder now.

"Heiress Caught in Love Triangle?" "Gojo’s Secret Affair with a Married Woman?" "Sukuna Refuses to Comment."

Shoko called again. This time, you answered.

“You need to be careful,” she said.

“I’m always careful.”

“No. You’re quiet. That’s not the same thing.”

You leaned against the bathroom mirror, eyes on your own reflection. Your lipstick was perfect. Your life was not.

“What are they saying about Satoru?” you asked.

Shoko paused.

“That he’s a fool.”

You laughed, tired and soft. “He is.”

“Yeah,” she said. “But he’s in love with you anyway.”

That night, Satoru called you. You didn’t say hello.

You just said:

“He knows.”

And Satoru, who was all charm and confidence to the world, let out the smallest breath—like he’d been waiting for that moment to arrive.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

He paused.

“Together.”

But the truth was: nothing about your world was built for together. You lived in glass houses, walked on names more fragile than crystal. And now the cracks were showing. Sukuna didn’t need to raise his voice to destroy you. He had lawyers. Legacy. Entire empires of silence. You were his prize—the perfectly polished diamond on his public crown.

And Satoru? He was lightning in a bottle. Beautiful. Dangerous. Brief. You were stuck between the man who owned your name…

And the one who knew your soul.

And for the first time— You weren’t sure which was worse. The invitation arrived three days later—white silk envelope, no return address, sealed with gold wax in the shape of a flame.

Inside, it read:

The Gojo Estate Midnight Until the End of the World Dress to be Remembered. —S

No RSVP required.

Just like that, it was official: the season’s most infamous man was throwing a party. And every socialite, heir, debutante, washed-up celebrity and scandal-thirsty reporter in Tokyo was clawing for a way in.

You knew what it meant. This wasn’t just a party. It was a declaration. A rebellion in silk and diamonds. A middle finger to the rules of old money. A love letter disguised as spectacle. It was Satoru, telling the world without saying a word: She’s mine. Come watch.

Sukuna saw the invitation before you did.

He found it on the hallway table, studied the seal, and set it down without expression.

“You’re going?” he asked flatly.

You looked up from your phone.

“Yes.”

His jaw ticked.

“And what will you wear to your lover’s little circus?”

You smiled sweetly. “Something unforgettable.”

The night of the party, the city seemed to hold its breath. The Gojo estate glowed like a myth, gold and violet lights stretching skyward. The gate was guarded, but not by security—by a sense of exclusivity so thick it made even the rich sweat. No one knew who would be there. Only that everyone would.

Inside, it was chaos masked as elegance. Champagne flowed like it was holy water. Violinists played under glass chandeliers. Women in couture whispered behind fans. Men smoked cigars like weapons.

And at the center of it all, in a black velvet tux and ice-blue eyes that cut through the crowd like searchlights—

Satoru.

He saw you before you saw him. How could he not? You walked in wearing a gown dipped in silver, slit high up your leg, with a neckline that flirted with scandal and diamonds like armor. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Even the music seemed to slow. You weren’t just there.

You were the whole event.

Satoru moved through the crowd like gravity, smiling, nodding, charming—but it was all just smoke. He was coming for you.

“You’re late,” he said when he reached you.

You tilted your chin. “I wanted an entrance.”

His smile was slow. Dangerous. Like he already knew how the night would end.

“You’re not going home tonight,” he said softly.

“No,” you agreed. “I’m not.”

The party grew wild by midnight.

Fire breathers. A fountain of absinthe. A string quartet playing trap music on the balcony. Somewhere in the chaos, Sukuna arrived, uninvited but unstoppable, wearing black like the villain he didn’t care to deny being. He saw you and Satoru together. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The message was in the way he looked at you—like you were already lost.

But for once, you didn’t look away.

You stayed beside Satoru.

You let him touch your hand in public.

You laughed too loudly. Danced too close. You weren’t hiding anymore. The house was glass and gold. But tonight, it was on fire.

Later, as the music swelled and the drinks blurred, Satoru pulled you into one of the quiet rooms upstairs.He shut the door behind you.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, breathless against your neck.

You turned to face him, heart pounding.

“I’ve always been yours,” you whispered.

And then you kissed him like it would erase the world.

Satoru's hands slid down your sides, his fingers splaying across the small of your back as he pulled your hips flush against his. You could feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against your stomach, and it made your core clench with need. Satoru groaned into your mouth, his hips rocking forward to grind his arousal against you.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth scraping against your pulse point before he bit down, marking you as his. You tipped your head back, giving him better access as you panted softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Satoru's hands slid up your torso, pushing the fabric of your dress out of the way until he could cup the swell of your breasts in his palms.

"I need you," Satoru growled against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "I can't wait any longer. I have to have you, right now." To emphasize his words, he squeezed your breasts roughly, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arched into his touch

Satoru's hands made quick work of your dress, pushing the fabric up and over your head until it landed in a puddle on the floor. His eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of you, clad only in your lace bra and panties, your skin flushed and heated from his touch. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I want to touch every inch of you."

To start, Satoru reached behind you, unhooking your bra with a deft flick of his fingers. It joined your dress on the floor as he tossed it aside carelessly, leaving your breasts bare to his hungry gaze. Satoru leaned down, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers, pinching and plucking at the sensitive peak.

You gasped, arching your back to press your breast more fully into his mouth as jolts of electricity shot straight to your core. Your panties were damp, your arousal coating the thin fabric as Satoru worked your nipples with his mouth and fingers. You could feel the heat building low in your belly, the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter as he played your body like an instrument.

Satoru's hand slid down your stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Satoru's fingers slid through your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your desire coating his digits. "You're so fucking wet," he growled against your breast, his voice strained with desire. "I can feel how much you want this, how much you need my touch." His finger circled your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles that made your hips jerk and buck against his hand.

Satoru's other hand slid down to the curve of your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before hiking your thigh up over his hip. He pressed his hard length against your clothed sex, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing deliciously against your aching core. You could feel every thick inch of him, hot and throbbing, as he ground himself against you.

"Tell me what you want, Y/n," Satoru demanded, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me how badly you need my cock inside you." His finger dipped lower, teasing your entrance with the promise of more. Your walls clenched, desperate to be filled, to be stretched wide around his thick length.

"I...I need..." you gasped, struggling to form a coherent thought through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. "I need you inside me, Satoru. Please, I can't...I need to feel you filling me up, stretching me, claiming me. Please, fuck me now!"

Satoru groaned at your words, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. "That's my good girl," he praised, before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. At the same time, he ripped your panties off, tearing the flimsy fabric away until you were bare before him. Satoru's fingers pushed two thick digits knuckle-deep inside you, pumping in and out, stretching your walls and stroking that special spot deep within you.

Satoru's other hand fumbled with his belt, undoing it with shaking fingers before pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to free his straining erection. You looked down, your eyes widening at the sight of his thick, hard length, the swollen head already glistening with pre-cum. Satoru gripped himself, lining himself up with your entrance, the tip nudging against your slick folds teasingly.

Satoru's eyes blazed with lust and desire as he drank in the sight of you, your naked body trembling with need against the wall. With a growl, he spun you around, pressing your breasts against the cool surface as he kicked your legs apart, exposing your glistening sex to his hungry gaze. You could feel the rough, cool wood of the bookshelf pressing against your sensitive nipples, making them harden even further.

"Keep your hands on the shelf," Satoru commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rumble. "Don't move them, no matter what I do to you." His hands slid around your waist, gripping your hips tightly as he pressed his hard, length against the curve of your ass.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a low, rough rasp. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

He gripped himself, stroking his length a few times, smearing the leaking pre-cum along his swollen shaft. Then, with a hard thrust of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside your tight, soaked heat.

"FUCK!" Satoru roared, his voice echoing off the walls as your walls clenched and fluttered around his invading length. "So fucking tight," he groaned, his fingers digging harder into your hips as he savored the feeling of your silken walls gripping him like a velvet vise. "I knew this little pussy would feel incredible wrapped around my cock."

He started to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He set a hard, fast pace, fucking you with deep, powerful thrusts that made your breasts bounce and jiggled with each slap of his hips against your ass. The room filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, of your moans and Satoru's grunts of pleasure as he took you roughly from behind.

Satoru's hand slid around to your front, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in hard, fast circles. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, you dirty girl?" Satoru growled, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "To be bent over and fucked hard, to be used for my pleasure? You're my little cock sleeve, aren't you Y/n?" His words sent shivers down your spine, your body clenching and fluttering around his pistoning length as he fucked you with wild abandon. You could only moan and whimper in response.

Satoru's hips slammed against yours with bruising force, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your clit with each powerful thrust. The obscene sound of skin on skin echoed through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and Satoru's guttural grunts of pleasure. His thick cock stretched you wide, reaching depths you never knew you had as he fucked you with wild, animalistic abandon.

"Shit, Y/n, your cunt feels amazing," Satoru panted, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure. "It's squeezing my cock so fucking tight, like it never wants to let me go." To emphasize his words, he reached around to grip your breast roughly, squeezing the soft mound and plucking at your nipple, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

Satoru's other hand slid down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in hard, fast circles. "I can feel you getting closer, baby," he growled, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "Your little pussy is fluttering around my cock, begging to come on my thick dick. Go ahead, Y/n. Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."

Your body tensed, your back arching as Satoru's words and touch pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the coil of tension in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment. With a few more hard, deep thrusts and a particularly rough circle of your clit, Satoru sent you hurtling over the edge.

"SATORU!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as your orgasm crashed over you. Your sex clamped down around his pistoning length, gripping him like a velvet vise as your walls rippled and fluttered, trying to milk his cock for all it was worth. Satoru groaned, his hips stuttering as your tight heat massaged his length, bringing him closer to his own release.

"Fuck, yes!" Satoru roared, slamming into you one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt and grinding his pelvis against your ass. "Take it, Y/n. Take my fucking cum!"

Satoru's body shuddered and tensed above you as his orgasm overtook him, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Fuck, Y/n!" he growled, his voice a low, guttural rasp. "I'm...coming!" His words dissolved into a strangled moan as hot, thick ropes of his seed painted your insides, filling you up until you could feel it seeping out around his throbbing length.

You clenched and fluttered around him, milking every last drop of his release as Satoru emptied himself deep inside you. His hips jerked and spasmed, grinding against your ass as he rode out the waves of his intense climax.

Satoru collapsed against your back, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He pressed sloppy kisses along your shoulder blades, his lips and tongue lingering on your sweat-damped skin. "That was...fuck, Y/n...incredible," he panted, his voice rough and strained. "I've never come so hard in my life."

Slowly, Satoru pulled out of you, his softening length slipping from your used, dripping sex with a gush of their combined fluids. You could feel the thick, warm seed dripping down your thighs as Satoru stepped back, taking in the sight of you with a satisfied, almost smug grin. Your body was flushed, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, and your hair a wild tangle around your face. You looked well and truly fucked, and Satoru looked extremely pleased with himself for the state he'd left you in.

"Look at you," Satoru purred, his fingers trailing down your spine, making you shiver. "Such a good little girl, taking my cock so well and milking me for every last drop." His hand slid between your legs, his fingers pushing through the mess of your combined releases to tease your sensitive, swollen folds.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, pouring all of his satisfaction and desire into the embrace. He stepped back, admiring the view of your naked, glistening body splayed out before him, your thighs still trembling from the force of your shared orgasms.

Satoru quickly cleaned himself up, tucking his spent cock back into his pants and refastening them. He then grabbed a soft, plush towel from a nearby chair and knelt behind you, gently wiping the sticky essence from between your thighs. His touch was surprisingly tender, almost reverent, as if he was cherishing the intimate act of cleaning his lover after their passionate coupling.

The city was quiet, wrapped in velvet shadows, and Satoru was still holding you like he never wanted to let go.nYour bare back pressed to his chest, sheets tangled around your legs, the soft rhythm of his breathing at your shoulder. “Don’t say anything yet,” he whispered. “Just... stay here a little longer.”

You did. Neither of you moved. Because the world had finally gone still.

And you were finally, finally, exactly where you belonged.

The party outside was still going. Soft jazz hummed through the open windows. Laughter floated like perfume from the gardens below. You could smell it—roses, gin, smoke. The scent of nights meant to last forever. You closed your eyes.

And then—

A scream.

Far off, sharp. Real. You sat up.

Then came the crash. Metal. Glass. Something tearing through the calm like a blade.

You were already moving. Grabbing for your robe. Running barefoot down the stairs as the music cut off and the lights in the garden flickered. Satoru followed.

The car had torn through the hedges near the side of the estate. Too fast. Too reckless.You saw it all as if underwater:

The crumpled metal. The pool of red on the stone. The young girl in a white dress, lying far from the road, her hair fanned out like a halo in the grass. She wasn’t breathing. Neither was her boyfriend.

The guests stared. Some cried. Others filmed. And Satoru—he just knelt. At the edge of the wreckage. Staring at his hands like they were drenched in something he couldn’t wash off.

They said later it was a valet. Too much to drink. He took one of the guests’ cars for a joyride and lost control on the curve just beyond the garden wall. It wasn’t Satoru’s fault. But it was his party. His name.

His gates. His home. His world.

And in the public’s eyes—he was responsible.

He didn’t speak to anyone the next day.

Didn’t see you. Didn’t answer Shoko. Or even the press. By sunset, the house was quiet again. By nightfall, he was gone.

You found a letter at the door.

I’m sorry. I thought I could hold you and still hold this world together. But I don’t deserve either. You were the only thing that made this life feel real. And that’s why I have to let it go.

Don’t wait for me. But know I’ll always be looking for you—in every life after this one.

— S

You stood in the doorway of his mansion the next morning. The windows were dark.

The staff dismissed. The garden gates wide open, rusted slightly from the rain.

And for the first time since you met him, the house didn’t feel alive.

You stood at the dock that night, staring across the water. Somewhere out there, a green light blinked at the end of a distant pier.

Long after the summer ended and the gossip faded, you still look across the bay.

Still wonder if one day he’ll return.

Still waiting for the greatest man you ever knew.

The Great Satoru.

A/n: maybe I’ll make a playlist for this who knows.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru x reader #jjk smut #satoru smut #satoru x you #shelovesosa

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