#should i be scared. should i bite it back.

[lushrue]

pt. 2 to this

cw: petplay (sort of?), oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation

your bouncing leg was shaking the table.

you could see it in the way water sloshed in the glasses, hear it in the subtle rattle of cutlery. your eyes darted between your husband and johnny, watching as they ate like there wasn’t a storm brewing inside you. you’d been buzzing with excitement ever since johnny accepted the invitation to dinner again. memories had plagued you all week, the phantom feeling of johnny’s hands on your thighs or his tongue between your legs making you fluster at the worst of times. even Simon couldn’t settle you like he normally could.

now, sitting here and watching johnny’s tongue dart out to clean some sauce from his lips had you sweating and blushing like a schoolgirl. you only realized you were staring when simon’s fingers snapped in front of your face, pulling your attention back to him. “where’d ya go, dove?” he asked teasingly, a knowing smirk on his face. you press your thighs together beneath the table, trying to give yourself a snippet of pleasure to tide you over. just get through dinner, you thought. then I can have what I want.

“nowhere,” you lie, bunching your dress up in one fist and forcing your fork into the other. you took a bite of the food you’d prepared, trying to put up the most natural facade you could. “just thinking.” johnny let out a huff of breath through his nose, amusement shining in his eyes. “i ken wha’ yer thinkin’ about,” he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. there was movement under the table and johnny yelped, shooting simon a glare. he started to protest, but simon’s eyes darkened and he withered. you fight back a whimper, squirming in your seat and stuffing another bite into your mouth to stifle the sound.

displays of dominance from your husband were commonplace. he was a domineering man and you never begrudged him an opportunity to throw his weight around at home. he was used to being in charge, and you were used to letting him take the reins. seeing him do it to someone else was even more thrilling, though. the idea of you and johnny both melting into him, giving yourselves over to his control, didn’t do much to help the heat steadily building in your core. simon sighed, his fork clattering against his plate as he set it down.

“can’t enjoy a nice meal without the two of you pawin’ at each other, hmm?” his tone carried no malice, but it was a clear scolding. you almost felt ashamed, like a puppy who’d disobeyed its master. simon’s attention fixed on johnny, who hardly looked as surprised as he had the first time this happened. this time, he was eager, knowing the prize that awaited him if he behaved. “a mutt, tha’s all you are. filthy mutt tha’ can’t keep ‘is paws to ‘imself.” your breath caught in your throat and johnny whined, high-pitched and wanton. your eyes widened, staring between the two of them.

the meal was long forgotten at this point. you’d slaved over the roast, but that was the least of your concerns. not when whatever was happening between your husband and his subordinate seemed much more delicious. “remember wha’ we talked about, yeah?” simon asked, and johnny nodded obediently in response. they’d talked? you felt out of the loop, but it didn’t scare you as much as you felt it should. simon never let anything happen to you; it always happened with you and he would tell you as much as you needed to know.

simon’s gaze fixed on you and you flustered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "gotta earn the right to touch my pretty princess, yeah?” you caught johnny’s nod in your periphery, and all of a sudden, your throat dried up. the weight of both sets of eyes on you was heavy, but not oppressive. it was safe, like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer. it made you gooey at your core, the weight of being so thoroughly admired. you couldn’t say that you hadn’t planned for that; you’d pulled your tightest dress out of your closet with the object of being fawned over.

simon reached for the burgundy napkins you’d carefully set on the table, folded artistically before johnny arrived to give your wandering thoughts something more appropriate to focus on. he wiped the corners of his mouth, folding it tactfully and laying it back down beside his plate. both yours and johnny’s eyes followed it, sharing a secret wish that simon’s fingers would show either of you the same kind of care. 

simon noticed, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth as he pushed his chair back to stand. as if commanded, the two of you stand not long after him. johnny’s eyes were shining as he bounced on the balls of his feet, anticipating the treat he would get for his obedience. “c’mon, then,” he muttered, and the two of you fall into step behind him.

you go to the bedroom this time. this didn’t feel spontaneous the way last time had. there was a plan in place, even if you didn’t know the specifics of it. both johnny and simon moved with a practiced ease, tactical and confident. they knew what was happening, and it made it easier for you to fall into the desire that had been practically consuming you all week. you take your place on the bed, leaning back onto the pillows like you did for simon when it was just the two of you. you position your arms to bracket either side of your chest, pushing up your breasts and looking between the two men.

the heat of their gaze on you was enough to burn, both of them admiring you in their own way. simon’s was a quiet possessiveness, a comfort in knowing that you belonged to him. he’d looked at you the same way on your wedding night. johnny’s eyes, though, wanted. he looked at you like a candy display in a store window, the best rifle on the market or the tastiest MRE the british government could supply. simon made you feel wanted, but johnny made you feel desired.

heat rises to your cheeks, your gaze averting to escape the intensity of theirs. simon snaps his fingers and you raise your head again, watching johnny move. the signal meant nothing to you, but it was a command for johnny. he toed off his boots, removing his socks and shirt after that. everything was folded neatly and placed on a chair near the bed until he remained in just his boxer-briefs. simon snapped again, and johnny sunk to his knees by the bed. you were breathless watching the display, how effortless simon’s dominance was and how easily johnny yielded to it.

“good lad,” simon praised, and you both shuddered. he chuckled at the evidence of his influence, stepping over to johnny’s side and laying a hand on his head. “you remember last time, righ’, lovie?” he asked, addressing you. you nod, unsure of where to look. simon enjoyed your eye contact, but johnny was such a vision on his knees. simon hummed, looking down at johnny as well. “got a little impatient, didn’t he?” you nod again, and so does johnny. simon’s fingers tighten around johnny’s mohawk, tugging his head back. your breath catches in your throat at the whine johnny lets out. your chest was heaving now, rising and falling sharply as your heart pounded in your chest.

“we’re gonna teach ‘im a lesson tonight, pretty. you an’ me. nasty pup needs to learn ‘ow to think with ‘is brain and not ‘is cock.” your eyes widen, understanding the purpose behind all the planning. it seemed simon had taken johnny’s education upon himself, making sure it was done just right. it was so like your husband to take in a stray, train him up to be an obedient guard dog. that was exactly what he was doing with johnny: training.

simon released his grip on johnny’s hair, letting the scot’s chin drop to his chest. he was breathing just as heavily as you, the heat of desire flushing his skin and turning it a pretty shade of pink. your lips were parted as you stared down at him, half wondering if he’d get to have you at all tonight. perhaps simon would be cruel and make him kneel on the rough carpet while you relished in all the pleasure. or perhaps simon would let him have another taste of you, but keep a tighter hold on the leash. you pressed your thighs together as the possibilities raced through your mind, feeling the stickiness that was steadily growing.

the sight of johnny was eclipsed by simon’s broad torso. you looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded but alight with the anticipation of what was to come. no matter what simon did with johnny, you’d get your due. he always made sure of that. “jus’ pretend he’s not even there, dove,” simon murmured gruffly, the gravel in his voice vibrating in your chest. shivers traveled down your spine, rattling each bone on the way down. “gotta ignore ‘em when they’ve misbehaved. only way they learn.”

beside the bed, johnny whimpered, nails digging into the calloused skin on his knees. it felt cruel to give johnny no attention, to leave him wanting and aching while you and simon had your fun. despite simon’s command, you let your eyes fall to the scot while your husband is distracted sucking a mark into your neck. you expected to find johnny looking uncomfortable, maybe giving himself some pleasure in the absence of yours or simon’s hands. instead, his gaze was heavy on the both of you, just watching. his cock stood at attention between thick thighs, red and leaking precum from the tip.

your cheeks instantly flush, tucking your head into the crease between simon’s shoulder and neck. simon hums affectionately, feeling you clam up with embarrassment at realizing what was going on. “he’s jus’ a stupid dog, lovie,” simon soothes, and your cunt clenches at the moan johnny lets out. “no’ like he knows wha’s goin’ on. jus’ focus on me, yeah?” your eyes drift back to his, glassy with tears that want to fall. “there she is,” he croons, stroking your cheek with one hand as he eases the straps of your dress down with the other. “tha’s my pretty girl. let me make ya feel good, huh? earned it, workin’ hard on that dinner like ya did.” you settle back against the mattress, nodding slowly. simon seemed to be enjoying this immensely, and if the glance you stole johnny’s direction was any clue, so was he. they wanted a show, so a show they’d get.

you relaxed into simon’s hold, movements slow and syrupy as you let desire consume you. you’d been waiting all night for this, so it was only right that you got to enjoy it. simon eased your dress over your full breasts, down over your plush stomach and hips. as each inch of skin was bared, the carpet rustled beside the bed with johnny’s impatient shifting. his hands twitched with the phantom sensations of undressing you himself, feeling you squirm under his fingertips. simon’s calloused hand brushing across your chest brought you back to the present, rough skin catching on your sensitive nipple. you jolted and simon grinned with delight. “sorry, doll. gonna be more careful, yeah?” you nod, and simon’s hands continued downward.

he brushed over the curves and valleys of you, taking time to sink his fingers into the fat on your stomach and hips. as much as you were putting on a show for johnny, arching your back and playing up your blissed-out expressions, so was he. every pause, every hum, it was all to show johnny how much he was missing, how much simon was enjoying you. it was one thing to see how much your husband adored you in private; it was another thing entirely to have another man watch you being worshipped. that’s what simon was doing, in truth. worshipping you, paying homage to every curve and divot.

caught up as you were in the excitement of it all, it took you by surprise when one of simon’s fingers pressed into you. it didn’t hurt, not with how wet you had been since the bedroom door shut. the stretch was just sudden and you keened, hips bucking up off the bed. simon’s forearm came up, holding your hips in place. “don’ run from it,” he teased, crooking his finger to brush against that spot that made you melt. the moan that left your lips was guttural, uncontrolled. johnny let out one to match, which made simon chuckle. “hear that, lovie?” he asked, a certain cruelness in his tone. “poor mutt can’t help ‘imself. just too pretty when she’s gettin’ fucked, ain’t she, pup?”

“uh huh,” johnny choked out, thrusting into the air on instinct. there was nothing to sink his poor, neglected cock into, but his body didn’t care. “please, simon, please let me touch her!” simon hummed thoughtfully, as if considering, before turning his attention back to you. you’d been writhing under his hand the whole time, teetering dangerously close to an orgasm. “what do you think, doll?” he asked you, pressing his finger up into your gummy walls. “want me to stop so johnny can have a turn with you?”

you weren’t really thinking anything beyond how desperately you needed to come. you’d been practically edging yourself all day, clenching your thighs and rubbing yourself against the edges of the dining room chairs to get some relief from the overwhelming desire. all you heard was the word “stop,” and you knew you didn’t want that. you shook your head, pressing your hips down to urge simon to continue. simon chuckled, clicking his tongue. “sorry, pup. looks like she ain’t ready for you yet.” johnny whined, but made no move to disobey. one of simon’s many talents was caring thoroughly for his lovers, and johnny trusted in that.

with simon’s attention fully back on you, you felt closer to the edge than ever. his eyes alone made you want to come, deep chocolate focused on nothing but your pleasure. you imagined he stared through the scope of a sniper rifle with the same intensity, trained on his target and eager for his reward. “wanted to come first, didn’t you, baby? wanted my finger just…like…this.” each word was punctuated with a crook of his finger, your toes curling at the intensity. every exhale was a moan or whine or plea to keep going, fully out of your mind with the pleasure you were receiving.

“go on, then. you’ve got a captive audience.” the reminder of johnny sitting there on his knees, watching, was all you needed to fall apart. your orgasm slammed into you, making your thighs tremble and your back arch. you gasped and whined through it, simon’s finger slowing until it finally stilled and eased out of you. your eyes opened just in time to catch him holding his finger down to johnny, wiggling it in front of his face. “well? gonna lick it up like a good dog?” he said sharply. even though he’d asked, his tone made it clear there was only one correct answer.

it’s not like johnny would have refused anyway, the scent of your juices too intoxicating to resist. he leaned forward, lapping at simon’s finger with his tongue. he sucked and licked, making sure to get every drop of you that he could. the sight made your walls flutter around nothing, lust building up again as quickly as it was sated. “so you do know how to use your mouth,” simon snapped, pulling his finger away from johnny’s lips. “must’ve been a fluke last time, then.” johnny nodded, shifting on the carpet to take some pressure off of his knees. “yes, sir,” he replied obediently, and the tone of his voice made your pussy clench around nothing.

simon got up from the bed, yanking johnny up from the floor by his mohawk and pushing him towards the bed. johnny yelped, but went easily, vibrating with excitement. he’d been patient, so now he got a reward. “can’t trust your mouth near ‘er,” simon said, and you felt a bit of disappointment at that. “but you can use yer cock just fine.” both you and johnny perked up, your heart beating faster in your chest. without hesitation, johnny got up on the bed, positioning himself between your legs. you willingly opened them for him, ready for the pleasure of being filled. the thickness of him had felt wonderful in your mouth last time, so you could only imagine how well he would stretch you out.

before he could indulge you, though, simon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. johnny gasped, his fingers digging into your thighs as he fought to hold himself back. “gotta set some rules first, though,” simon said, releasing johnny’s neck and petting his mohawk. “you do exactly as i say. that goes for both of ya.” you and johnny nod, eager to get to what you’ve both been waiting for. “and for johnny,” simon began, tone darker. “if you cum before she does, i’ll make sure you never feel her sweet cunt again. understand?” johnny shivered, the threat clear. that wasn’t something he wanted to chance. “yes, sir,” he replied, and simon finally moved away.

with johnny’s metaphorical leash dropped, he was free to do whatever he wanted to you, and you were pliant enough to let him. his teeth scraped along your collarbones and the tops of your breasts, licking up the sweat from your skin. you shiver and moan, bringing up your hands to dig your fingers into his shoulders. you earn his teeth clamping around your nipple, the blend of pleasure and pain making you whine. satisfied, johnny raised his upper body, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it. it wasn’t like he needed to get hard enough to fuck you. no, he was showing off.

“gonna give ya all o’ this, lass,” he rasped, eyes fixed on your dripping wet folds. it was like you weren’t even there, johnny’s gaze locked between your legs. “she’s gonna swallow me up so nice. so warm and wet, can see how bad she wants me from ‘ere.” he wasn’t wrong. every word out of his mouth had your walls fluttering, begging for the pressure of his cock to fill them out.

johnny didn’t make love to you slow and gentle like simon did. simon treated you with care, like a porcelain doll that would shatter if he squeezed too hard. johnny fucked instead, thrusting all the way to the hilt in one go. you arched off the bed, nails digging into johnny’s back as you fought to stay grounded. the pleasure went straight to your head, making you almost dizzy with the force and the overwhelming stretch. in the moment it took you to catch your breath, simon’s weight made a dip in the mattress beside your head. the smell of his musk hit your nose, thick and potent, and you knew in an instant what was going on.

johnny groaned, the thought of what simon was about to do enough to add force and speed to his thrusts. simon ran a hand through your hair, tilting your head up to the angle he wanted it. his eyebrow quirked up, a wordless question to make sure this was what you wanted. you let your mouth fall open as a reply, sticking your tongue out for him. simon’s moan was all you needed to know you’d made the right decision.

it was almost too much, the feeling of simon’s and johnny’s hands on you at the same time. simon was petting your hair with one hand and holding your chin with the other, angling your head so he could fuck all the way down your throat. johnny was touching and squeezing, his hands exploring your thighs and ass with the hunger of a feral animal. the difference between them, simon’s gentleness and johnny’s roughness, made you clench down on johnny’s cock. the scot threw his head back, hips stuttering as he struggled to stave off his release.

“‘s too good, sir,” johnny babbled, thrusting his hips forward once more before stilling. “don’...don’ think I’m gonna last.” the assault on your throat was relentless, simon’s pace remaining steady as he reached over to grab johnny by the neck. “remember the rule, pup,” simon said, voice strained as your tongue caressed the underside of his cock. “gotta make her cum first. you know wha’ to do.” johnny’s thrusts slowly resumed after that, but that was secondary to the electric shock of his thumb on your clit.

there had been so much stimulation, so much feeling, that the circles he was making felt like pinpricks under your heated skin. you gasped, spluttering around Simon’s cock for only a moment before the pleasure evened out into something more bearable. you clenched around johnny’s cock each time he crested the top of your clit, which only made him thrust faster. “c’mon, bonnie. give it to me, i wan’ it so bad!” johnny was practically sobbing above you, his cock twitching inside you with how much effort it was taking to hold back his release.

simon groaned above you, salty pre spilling down the back of your throat. his hand braced on the headboard, he looked like adonis above you, glistening and blissed out with pleasure. “you heard ‘im, doll,” simon breathed out between whispered curses. “mutt’s earned a treat. best no’ keep ‘im waitin’.” johnny’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, and that gave you what you needed to fall over the edge again. your walls tightened around him, clenching down with the force of your orgasm. you could hear johnny above you, babbling about how good you felt, before the warmth of his cum filled you.

seeing his wife and his subordinate losing themselves was enough for simon, too. a few more thrusts and he spilled down your throat, salty cum painting the base of your tongue. you swallowed, giving him a bit more stimulation before they both pulled out of you, leaving you empty.

you didn’t have time to feel the coldness of it, not when johnny was draping himself over you and peppering your cheeks with kisses. “did so good, lassie,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your torso. “such a perfect cunt. thank ye, thank ye for lettin’ me use her.” johnny’s compliments made you fluster, the weight of his adoration almost too much to bear. you mumble back a response, something to placate him, but your tongue is too heavy and your mind too empty.

by the time simon comes back with water and towels, you and johnny are both asleep, his sweaty body plastered to yours. simon could only smile and join the heap, holding you both close. yes, he thought, again hadn’t been such a bad idea.

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere Male survivor X G/N Zombie Reader

Sorry for the lack of fics! I've been going through it but don't worry, I'm back! and killing a reader... again. I do love you guys I promise (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ - Jay

Trigger Warnings! Emotional grief, depictions of violence, Emetophobia, murder . I really tried making this fic darker than usual. This is all fictional! I do not condone toxic (or yk literal crimes) behaviour irl!

Riley was devastated. Watching you collapse in his arms. Spasming, foaming at the mouth with tears in your eyes. Watching you turn into a zombie was worse then watching that monster to take a bite out of your leg. Wether it was seeing his face while dying, love or just something unexplainable but your undead form could understand him. Activity trying to reach out to him.

🦴 Yandere Survivor who kept you on a leash at first. You were still alive but now a curious thing.

🦴 Yandere Survivor who kept a shot gun with him.

Every time he met anyone new they all tried killing you. He didn't like that. He'd aim for their knee caps so you'd have some lunch.

🦴 Yandere Survivor who hated nights. Watching you stare at the wall or into some woods killed him. He missed your human form more then society before the apocalypse. He talked to you still, sometimes just talking about memories. He's scared you'll forget one day.

Riley was caught off guard once by a zombie but you stepped in. Repeated smashing another undead monsters skull against the round. The already infected brain smearing on the floor. That was the first time he saw you as a beast but it was for him...to protect him.

🦴 Yandere Survivor knew you still loved him! You two had left your city when the outbreak happened but now that everywhere is infected he really wanted to go home.

Walking along the empty street road. Riley noticed a car was coming along. That's never a good sign, survivors smart enough to find petrol are smart enough to shoot zombies on sight. He gently grabs your hand. He's worried if he used too much strength your hand will rip of your body. The car stops, survivors get out warily. "Don't shoot!" Yandere Survivor yelled out.

🦴 Yandere Survivor didn't really have anything else he could say. He saw one of them grab something from behind their back. He grabbed his shot gun and fired twice. One in each head, they collapsed to the ground almost simultaneously. If he didn't feel sick he probably would've laughed. All that could be heard was retching and his vomiting splattering against the ground. That's the first time he took a lift technically. I mean he'd shot before but so you could go in for the kill.

Riley walked over to the corpses. It was a gun the survivor was going for but it didn't make him feel any better. Yandere Survivor looks in the car, he can hear chewing and a almost moist noise of lips slapping together. He loves you but no zombie could eat in a non disgusting way. He grabbed some of the food he found in the car. A protein bar, bag of nuts it was all useful out here. He noticed a map. Funnily enough they weren't as easy to find as in those zombie games. Looking along those lines stretching out for all over there was a scribbled circle around where you and him had been with the title "specimen". Riley should of caught on sooner it was about you.

More and more survivors were trying to interact with you two, especially trying to immobilise you.

🦴 Yandere Survivor had enough by the fourth time. Holding another survivor at gun point "What's going on!?" He can hear you grunt behind him agreeing with him. "That thing! That's what they want! They said we'd have safety - You- you wouldn't understand! You have a little guard dog by your-" he was cut off by the sound of his own jaw being blown off. The body slumps on the ground. Nobody gets to talk about you like that. You nudge his giving a displeased looked. "Oh yeah! Probably should of asked who 'they' was, shouldn't of I?"

🦴 Yandere Survivor did find out it was scientists looking for you. I mean you're the most human zombie out there but for you to be studied they'd definitely have to cut you open. He's not letting that happen. He's lost part of you, he's not losing the rest. The first two full kills upset him greatly but now he can do it without even cringing. Yandere Survivor couldn't tell if you're more human or he's more zombie at this point.

🦴 But with all this going on with all the darkness and violence there's a few happy times! Yandere Survivor got used to your cold hands holding his arm or your grunts that only he could understand. He never got chance to propose to you but he supposed that also works about you two aren't together till death do you part. He's stayed after that.

[asxgard]

twice | [2/2]

Dr. Frank Langdon x f!Resident!reader

part one: getaway car

Summary: Sometimes it’s the second time where you get it right.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve enjoyed Frank and the angst💜thank you for the likes and comment on the last part!!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst, mild smut (MINORS DNI), p in v, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies

not beta read

You met in a tangle of limbs once you were inside Frank’s apartment. Hot mouths and wandering hands, all the pent up emotions finally boiling over. It felt good, treasuring his lips on yours, your hands tangling in his hair.

It felt exhilarating to be wrapped up in him, for it to not be all in your head. To be wanted by him equally had warmth buzzing in your chest.

He led you into his bedroom, and you pulled at his shirt until it was on the floor. Yours followed with vigor, each of you exploring the new territory of skin. His mouth found yours again and you moved to lay on the bed, pulling him with you.

Frank felt good, all the tension making you feel even the lightest touch like your senses had been dialed to eleven. He paved a way and pleasure burned in his wake. Lips on your hot flushed skin, biting and sucking on the column of your throat while you wrapped your legs around his hips.

Pleasure coiled tightly in your abdomen, winding tighter with each frantic drag of Frank’s hips. To want to rush and savor the feeling had a flurry of thoughts invade your lust driven brain. To ask him to slow down or speed up while you moaned underneath him. He stole the words from your lips, driving forward in slow thrust, that were forceful and rough and had you seeing stars. It was fast and rushed, but the pleasure wound deep.

You cursed when the coil finally snapped, whining out a chant of his name, and Frank claimed every bit of it. His pace picked up and grew sloppy, while he groaned into your shoulder, hips stuttering to a stop.

Wrapping your arms around him to hold him to you, you looked into his eyes, and found something that scared you. Not just desire satiated, but a longing looking for a home.

When Frank pulled out of you, you laid side-by-side, breathing in tandem and trying to catch your breath. You also tried to gather your bearings, think of what you were going to do now that you had given in.

“This was…” Frank swallowed, sitting up. “We shouldn’t have…”

Hurt bloomed somewhere deep in your chest. “They say all the best mistakes happen at least twice.”

He looked back at you, lips twisted into a frown, “I don’t want this to be a mistake.”

You blinked at him, hope creeping back in. “We should slow it all down.”

He gave an agreed nod, “Yeah, take our time. I don’t want to rush anything.”

You thought you definitely had rushed a few things, considering the soreness blooming at the apex of your thighs. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it.

“What’re you doing on Saturday?” Frank asked after a few beats.

You looked over at him, “Only trying to catch up on chores.”

He smiled softly, “Would you wanna go out?”

“I’d love to.”

—

The first shift back after your night with Frank felt like you were an intern all over again, constantly checking over your shoulder and trying to play it cool. No one on shift could find out, you had decided, not until you were back on stable ground.

No one even knew you had broken up with Andy yet — and you were very interested in not becoming part of the Pitt gossip. You knew that once someone found out you were single again, the betting pool would start.

Taking it slow was the best course of action — you were freshly single after all. Jumping right back into something before catching your breath was not likely to be the wisest course of action. Despite the fact that you knew it was Frank that you wanted.

McKay approached you first, “Still trouble in paradise?”

You hummed, “Paradise of one, and no troubles.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Oh. I’m sorry.”

You offered a half smile, “It was for the best.”

Frank approached with an easy smile, “So, can you help me in South-15? Want your opinion on a patient.”

McKay looked between you two and heat rose to your cheeks.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Frank looked at her, “Oh, didn’t Robby call you to triage for something?”

Smooth, you thought, trying not to smirk at his flimsy excuse.

McKay’s eyebrows came together, “He did?”

Frank nodded, “He said it was a good teaching moment or whatever.” He gestured for you to follow him.

You smiled apologetically at her before following after Frank.

“That was painful, Langdon,” you sighed, “thought you could be much more subtle than that.”

“I’m the king of subtlety.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Right, of course, your majesty. I’m sure McKay thought that was perfectly normal.”

“Robby did need her in triage.” Frank supplied with a shrug.

“We’re gonna have to be more careful. I don’t want to be tangled up in gossip.”

Frank gave a sharp nod, “Right.”

“Anyways, the patient?”

—

If anyone — namely McKay — had caught on, they had been very discreet about it. You tried your best to answer questions without looking dodgy, and said even though you were single now, you were committed to your residency.

Part of you didn’t want to hide anything — you certainly weren’t ashamed of it — but you did fear the judgment. Of how your eyes had wandered while you were with Andy, and how they had wandered to your chief attending of all people. Perhaps there was a bit of shame lingering in your gut for how everything happened.

You should have broken up with Andy months ago, and instead you strung him along hoping something would change without putting in any effort to change it. Or fix the parts you knew were broken. You hadn’t even warned Andy of the fact that you felt something was broken — not that it would have mattered much. Andy never cared to get his hands dirty, or become emotionally vulnerable. It was destined to fail no matter what you did, but you let it suffer longer than it should have.

Frank seemed to feel your hesitation during your first date, tucked away in a corner of a nice Italian restaurant while your eyes kept floating back to the door. Like you wanted to run and hide.

“We can take this as slow as you need to.” He said, offering a reassuring smile.

You smiled despite the tight feeling in your chest. “I just don’t want to ruin it before it truly starts.”

He paused for a long moment, “So I won’t let you. These won’t be dates, just friends hanging out. Until it isn’t.”

The barbed wire curling around your ribs loosened considerably.

“Until it isn’t.” You raised your wine glass and lightly clinked it with his, making it feel more like a promise. A vow.

It calmed your racing mind to think of it as more of a “when” then an “if”. An inevitability.

“Thank you…we should just take it slow, you know? I don’t want you to feel like a rebound.”

“Can’t feel like a rebound if we’re just friends.” He smirked.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, “You take all your friends to fancy Italian places?”

He shrugged, “Only the pretty ones.”

“Careful, Frank, that sounds like flirting.” You said, hiding your growing smirk.

“Just playful.”

“I’m calling HR.”

He laughed and all the tension eased. It felt normal. Like nothing had truly changed — it was just Frank and it was just you. While sexual tension lingered, that too, felt normal after living with it for close to a year. You could work with this, give yourself time to mourn the relationship you had left and feel secure enough to start a new one.

—

The shame ebbed away slowly, and your hesitation seemed to go with it. Frank was more than patient with all of it, which felt like more than you deserved — but as he had explained it, he had waited a year for you, and he could wait a little longer. While the shame parted, some anxious thoughts took their place, worried you were beginning to string him along, too.

You were able to wade through the sea of your uncertainties slowly, and the nights out with Frank seemed to make it easier. You both settled back into your friendship, and despite occasional side-eye from McKay or Mohan, everything was going smoothly.

Like usual, most of your coworkers departed from the bar and left you and Frank alone. It never was intended to be the last ones remaining whenever there was a group hang out, but you couldn’t say you were displeased. You couldn’t say you didn’t linger either, hopeful for more alone time with him.

You sipped your drink, hoping it would help your nerves. “So, are you free on Saturday?”

Frank looked over at you and gave a sly smile, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and huffed, “Trying to.”

He grinned, “Yeah, I’m free.”

The tension holding up your shoulders slipped away, “Cool. Good. Yeah.”

Since months had passed from when you had broken up with Andy, you felt no reason to hide what was now blooming. Aside from the professionalism you held yourself to, you allowed yourself to be less concerned with subtlety. Sneaking glances and PG flirting, letting touches linger just a bit longer than you would have.

Everything was settling into place.

You had been the one to ask Frank out, but he came to pick you up, dressed in a navy blue button up and dark grey chinos. It did wonders for his eyes, and you heart nearly skipped a beat.

This time, it felt right. The only nerves in your system were normal for first dates — or the second-first date it actually was.

“Thank you…for waiting.”

He smiled softly at you and grabbed your hand, “You were the right person to wait for. Usually it’s the right person that’s hard to find, so getting the timing right felt a whole lot less complicated.”

It warmed something in your chest.

“Timing is always the hardest thing to get right.” You agreed.

The first time you had become interested in Frank had been the wrong time. Like the saying went, “right person, wrong time”. Your first date had been filled with shame and anxieties over things you couldn’t change.

Sometimes you just needed to try something twice before you got it right.

He kissed you tenderly and you allowed yourself the time to savor it.

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[fawnistry]

ᥫ᭡ dead dove: do not eat.

content warnings: dubcon, rough sex, semi-public sex, possessiveness, recording without explicit consent, biting, marking, bruising, unprotected sex, and a very morally dubious sae itoshi.

▷ preview: sae needs to fuck you before every match—superstition, obsession, whatever. if he doesn’t, he plays like shit, and he cannot afford that. the problem? he’s not gentle about it. it’s rough, possessive, almost punishing—like he’s taking out his pre-game tension on your body. 

the locker room is empty except for the two of you, the sharp scent of antiseptic and sweat thick in the air. sae’s fingers dig into your hips, pressing you back against the cold metal of the lockers, his breath hot against your ear. "you know i can’t play without this," he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. "you know what happens if i don’t get what i need."

you do. you’ve seen the way he plays when he’s unsatisfied—reckless, brutal, like he’s punishing the entire world for denying him. and you’re the only one who can fix it.

his hand slides under your skirt, rough, impatient. there’s no preamble, no gentle touch. he’s already hard, already pushing your panties aside with a sharp tug. you gasp as he sinks into you in one brutal thrust, your back hitting the lockers with a rattling bang. "quiet," he growls, biting at your throat. "someone could hear."

but that’s the thing—he doesn’t care. not really. if anything, the risk makes him fuck you harder, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm that’s punishing, possessive. his pre-game ritual. his superstition. you.

your breath comes in ragged little whimpers, your fingers scrambling for purchase against the slick metal behind you. he doesn’t let you adjust, doesn’t let you think. just takes, over and over, his grip on you bruising. "fuck, you’re perfect like this," he mutters, lips dragging over your jaw. "all mine. all for me."

then you hear it—the click of his phone camera, the soft shutter sound. your eyes fly open, meeting his dark, hungry gaze as he holds the screen up, capturing the way he’s buried inside you, the way your thighs shake around him. "gonna watch this every time i need to focus," he says, voice rough. "gonna remember how you feel."

it should scare you. it does scare you. but the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way he fucks you like he’s claiming you in front of the whole world—it makes your stomach twist with something sick and sweet.

he doesn’t stop recording. not when you clench around him, not when he groans your name like a prayer, not when he spills inside you with a shudder, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

when he pulls away, he tucks his phone back into his pocket like it’s nothing. like he didn’t just make you part of his routine in the worst way possible. like he won’t need it again tomorrow. and the next day. and the day after that.

"good girl," he murmurs, smoothing your skirt down with a smirk. "see you after the match."

you know you will. because superstitions don’t break. they only get worse.

[softlypossessive]

♡･ﾟ𓏸 Contagion 𓏸･ﾟ♡

♡ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Reader ♡ Warnings: Yandere themes, obsession, possessive behavior, intrusive thoughts, gore (?), violent impulses, intense psychological conflict, inappropriate touching (nonsexual but unsettling), power imbalance, emotional repression, Sukuna being a freak in denial lmao ♡ WC: ~800 ♡ Notes: Part two of Ordinary (you don’t have to read it first, but like... you totally should bc I’m cool and my fics slap). A single look becomes a single touch, and Sukuna spirals even harder. He’s angry, unhinged, and worst of all—he’s feeling. Proximity is breaking him, and he can’t stand how much he wants more. Part 3? Probably. I’m feral.

 𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

The day had been dragging its feet, a dull smear of routine—training with Yuji, dodging curses, the usual grind. You’re in some abandoned warehouse now, the air thick with dust and the faint reek of mildew, sparring with the kid to keep his reflexes sharp. He’s mid-laugh, dodging a lazy punch you threw, when it happens. His grin freezes, eyes widening for a split second before they darken—brown bleeding into crimson, pupils sharpening to slits. The shift is instantaneous, like a light snuffed out, and the body in front of you isn’t Yuji’s anymore. It’s Sukuna’s.

He doesn’t say a word at first, just straightens up, rolling Yuji’s shoulders like he’s stretching into a new skin. His presence fills the room, heavy and suffocating, and those red eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes your pulse stutter. You should be scared—anyone else would be—but you just square your stance, chin up, watching him right back.

“Brat’s too soft with you,” he says, voice low, a growl threading through Yuji’s lighter tone. 

He steps closer, barefoot on the cracked concrete, and the air turns sharp, electric. 

“Lets you get away with too much.”

You tilt your head, unfazed. 

“And you’re here to fix that?”

His lips twitch, a snarl masquerading as a smirk, and he closes the distance in two strides, looming over you. 

He’s still in Yuji’s body, but it doesn’t feel like it—every move is too deliberate, too predatory, the way he tilts his head, the way his gaze rakes over you like he’s peeling back your skin. 

“I could snap your neck between two fingers,” he growls, one hand darting out, claw-tipped even in this borrowed form. 

His index finger hooks under your chin, tilting it up with a pressure that’s just shy of piercing flesh, the sharp edge grazing your pulse.

“Twist it right off and watch you flop like a broken doll.”

You don’t flinch. His breath is hot against your face, smelling faintly of copper and something darker, and you can feel the tremor in his grip—anger, maybe, or something worse. 

“But?” you prompt, voice steady, daring him to finish.

His eyes narrow, crimson flaring, and his claw stills, pressing harder for a heartbeat before he speaks again, quieter, rougher. 

“But I’d miss the way your voice sounds when you say my name.” 

The words slip out like a confession he didn’t mean to make, and his jaw tightens, teeth grinding as if he could bite them back.

Your lips part, a retort halfway there, but he moves first—his free hand brushing yours, accidental, just a graze of knuckles as he shifts his weight. It’s fleeting, barely a second, but the contact hits him like a jolt. 

Your skin is warm, too soft against the calloused edge of his borrowed flesh, and it sticks—clings to him like damp blood, seeping into his nerves. He freezes, eyes flicking to where your hands almost met, then back to your face. 

“Your skin…” he mutters, low and guttural, like he’s tasting the words. “Tch. Filthy.”

But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t wipe his hand clean. His claws curl tight instead, digging into his own palm until black blood wells up, and you catch the flicker of something in his gaze—disgust, maybe, or hunger. 

He steps closer still, chest brushing yours, and for a split second, his other hand lifts—like he might touch you again, softer this time, trace the line of your jaw with something less than violence. But then his eyes widen, a snarl ripping out of him, and he snaps it back, fist clenching so hard the tendons creak. 

Like you burned him. 

Like he can’t trust himself.

“Why do you care?” he snaps, voice jagged, leaning in until his forehead nearly touches yours, his breath ragged against your lips. 

“You look at me—him—like that, all soft and worried, and it’s fucking disgusting. Why?”

You don’t back down, meeting his glare head-on. 

“Why does it matter to you?”

He goes still, deadly quiet, and the warehouse feels smaller, the air thicker, like it’s pressing in around you both. His hand—the one that brushed yours—twitches at his side, and you’d swear he’s fighting the urge to grab you again, to dig those claws in and see if you’d break or bend. 

“You’re a plague,” he says finally, voice dropping to a hiss, but he doesn’t move away. 

Doesn’t retreat. Just stands there, too close, staring like he’s trying to carve you into his memory—or carve himself out of yours.

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

Later that night, when Yuji’s back in control, laughing off the spar like nothing happened, Sukuna’s silent. Buried deep in that shared skull, he’s seething, replaying that touch—the heat of your skin, the way it lingered, the way it branded him. 

He dreams of it, a fractured, furious haze of red light and soft flesh, your hand brushing his again and again until he wakes, claws tearing into Yuji’s sheets, black blood staining the fabric. 

He’s pissed—livid—at you, at himself, at the way that fleeting contact won’t leave his fucking fingers.

[castiwls]

motel girl

Paring; older!patrick x female!reader

Summary; the last thing you should be doing as a collage student working a shitty motel job was being charmed by the washed up 30 something year old tennis player into giving him a free room - never mind agreeing to join him in said room

warnings; porn with a small plot, age gap (patricks early 30s & reader is early 20s), drinking, orgasm denial, dry humping, thigh riding, biting (kinda?), dirty talk (Patrick says good girl once), fem!reader (sorry) - anything I missed let me know!

Notes; maybe the freakiest thing i've written em kinda scared to post this🥲 also way longer then I intended I was gonna make this a bot but I'm not sure.

Masterlist

"I can get you the money at the end of the week."

You should've realised then and there that he was bad news. If the way he'd suddenly come onto you the minute his card declined wasn't a big enough flag, his ego the size of the sun should have had you kicking him out to the streets.

Yet, somehow, Patrick Zweig had charmed you into giving him a room at a motel you'd rather never be in past your work hours and as a result, you'd found yourself hanging around said motel way after your shift was over.

He was far from the first older man to try and hit on you for whatever they needed. Fresh towels, free food, a free room for the night, the list could go on.

Yet Patrick was the first remotely active man to work his charm on you.

You hated the fact it worked.

"Hey. You finish soon, right?" He leaned over the counter, his eyes staring unshamedly at your chest as you glanced up from the laptop. "You got the money yet?" He grinned, "No," He leaned slightly closer, his grin only growing. "I won my match. Still in the game."

"Shouldn't you be out celebrating?"

"You're the only person I know in this town."

He was bold. You'd give him that. "You don't know me." Patrick hummed, considering for a moment. "I know your name...and I know you get off soon."

Patrick watched his amusement only growing at the sight of your annoyance. Fuck Art and Tashi. Fuck the challenger, you were way more intresting.

"You have no money-"

"I have enough to make it worth your time."

------

You shouldn't be here.

You should have known it was a bad idea to go to the washed up tennis players motel room at 12am when you should have been anywhere else.

Forget the fact he must have been in his 30s at least and you had a collage class on Monday morning, you should have known there was no way this could end well.

The beer had helped. You'd at least managed to relax enough to spread out on the old bed while he watched from the floor, his eyes following your every movement like you were some sort of partictiarlly interesting bug he'd spotted.

"So you just spend your time playing? Doesn't it get boring?" You'd shifted, your head lying at the bottom of the bed as you watched him nurse his first beer.

"Pretty much." He nodded his face pinching slightly. "Its not boring-"

"You hit a ball with a racket."

Patrick huffed. "There's more to it then that." He trailed off staring at the wall as his fingers tapped agsint the old carpet. "If you play it with someone you know its more..."

Your lips pursed, noting the shift in atmosphere. "Oh..."

He nodded before it was like a switch flicked, and his lips pulled back into a grin. "You should come watch. Maybe you'll see it's more than just hitting a ball." You smiled slightly at the offer. "You're inviting me to watch?"

He nodded, taking a sip. "Why not? You got anything better to do? A boyfriend?" His lips curled at the face you pulled. He laughed as you shook your head, just a bit too quickly.

"No? No boyfriend or no watching?"

"No-No boyfriend." You mumbled, cringing slightly at the egurness in your voice. "-but sure. I'm not working on the day I'll come."

He smiled then, a proper one, and you felt your heart skip almost. Fuck this.

You both fell quiet, you still watching as he stood, stretching before placing the can on the dresser and approaching. Your breath caught as he was suddenly looming over you, his body being the only thing in your vision.

"I should...I should go." You swallowed, shifting to sit. As you turned, he moved with you, stepping into the space between your legs as they hit the ground. "Wait a minute-" His fingers, rough and calloused, brushed over your cheek, pausing over your lower lip for a minute.

You could feel your palms begin to sweat as you fisted a hand into the sheet. Neither of you said a word, his thumb pushing against your lip lightly.

The room seemed eerily quiet as his eyes searched your face for any hint of displeasure. Patrick's eyes met yours in a silent question.

'Do you want this to?'

The slightest movement of your head, and his lips were crashing into yours, his hand slipping to cup your jaw, the kiss messy and unpracticed. It was pure need as you pressed closer your own hand fisting in his hair pulling a quiet noise from his throat.

Your own lips parted in surprise when his teeth nipped at your lip. He deepened the kiss, pressing a knee to the bed as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, almost like he was scared you'd disappear.

Patrick pressed forward, the two of you moving in sync as you shifted back onto your knees, allowing him the space to climb onto the bed. You gasped when he pulled back, air suddenly filling your lungs as his lips pressed to your cheek before moving down to your neck.

"Off," He murmured against the skin of your neck, tugging at your top. He pulled back just enough for you to throw your top somewhere before he was tugging you into his lap, his teeth nipping at the skin of your chest.

You could hardly hold back the gasp which tumbled from your throat at the feel of his lips on your skin, his hips slowly beginning to rock up against yours as you felt him harden in the confines of his jeans.

Your hands were clumsy as you tugged at the button of his jeans. "No. Not yet." One of Patrick's hands closed over yours, guiding them away and behind your back.

He held them there for a moment, grinning at your whine. "Already so needy-" His teeth bit down against the skin of your neck before he pulled away, his eyes blown with hunger. "-so perfect." His free hand unhooked your bra with surprising efficiency, letting your hands go for just enough to tug it down and away before he was flipping you both over.

"Patrick," His name fell from your lips as he pressed your hands to the pillow, his eyes dark as he hummed. "I said I'd make it worth your time-" His lips met yours again, the kiss hungrier this time.

He was like a man starved, your teeth clashing as he pressed your hands further into the pillow. "-Let. me." He barely pulled back long enough to get the words out before he was kissing you breathless again, his knee pressing between your legs as your hips rolled on instinct.

You gasped, pleasure running through you at the sudden friction. Your hips rolled again, a whimper leaving you as he pulled back his lips pressing to your jaw once more before he pulled back to watch you properly.

His knee pressed up more, amusement flashing in his eyes at the way your cheeks heated as a quiet moan left your lips. "Good?" He questioned as you nodded your head.

"Ah. Use your words."

He was going to be the death of you. White hot pleasure ran through you at his tone, your eyes widening as another moan fell from your lips. "S'good. So good - Patrick-" He hummed in satisfaction, his hand letting go of your wrists to brace himself on the bed as his head dipped down.

"Good girl."

He barely gave you a second to breathe before his tongue was tracing around one of your nipples, the feeling combined with the friction between your legs short-circuiting your brain for a moment.

If you'd been in a clearer head space, you'd have been embarrassed by the sound that left your lips, but you were past caring. You whimpered when his teeth grazed the peak before he moved onto the other side, giving equal attention.

"Patrick, I-" Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt your pleasure slowly reach that peak. The feel of his lips combined with the friction between your legs pushes you closer and closer to that mind-bending edge.

It was so close you could almost taste it, his name falling from your lips between whimpers and moans. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back arching - one more second and-

"Wha-" Your eyes shot open when his leg disappeared, his face coming back into view with a wide grin.

That fucker.

His lips pressed to yours again, silencing your complaints as you felt him smile. "You're cruel." He laughed, his fingers brushing away the hair stuck to your forehead.

"Why?"

"I gotta make sure you come to that match somehow?" Patrick shifted, his fingers tracing over a mark on your neck. "You come and I win again tomorrow," His fingers drifted down your neck to gently tip your chin up to meet his eyes.

"I'll give you whatever you want."

He knew he had you. He'd given you a taste of what he could do. Just enough to make you stick around.

You prayed he won that stupid match.

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 22

I'm back :) praying CC plays tomorrow and feeds families from the Iowa logo...

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing a fic! Any feedback is welcome. Friends -> lovers, Caitlin's gay-awakening. I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

Sophomore Year, August-September, Iowa City 2021

NSFW: Wlw, fxf etc, smut, all that good stuff.

The lawn was too green. Like someone had punched the saturation slider too far to the right, trying to make a boring photo feel alive. Caitlin sat stiff in one of the rusted patio chairs, arms locked around her knees, watching the sprinkler arc like a slow, broken metronome. It hadn't touched this patch of grass in months. Of course now it did.

She hadn’t been home in forever. Not really. A laundry drop here, a silent dinner there. Nothing long enough to mean anything. Definitely not long enough for this conversation.

She hadn’t wanted to come. But her mom texted three times. Her dad called once. Just to talk, on the way home from Chicago. Please, they said.

Sure.

The house smelled the same. Dust and cinnamon gum and fabric softener clinging to every couch cushion like a warning. Same living room. Same lamp with the crooked shade. Same framed photo of her holding a trophy in braces and neon shoes. Like none of them had moved forward a single inch. Like she’d imagined her own progress.

Colin had already made himself scarce. Her mom had asked him to stay. He said, “She doesn’t need a translator,” and walked out the door. Caitlin had never loved him more.

Her mom brought out two glasses of lemonade and set them down like they were peace offerings. Her dad hovered behind her, hands in his pockets, posture tight.

“You didn’t have to come back,” her mom said.

Caitlin shrugged. “Well, I’m here.”

They all sat. Not together, exactly. More like in the same scene.

A breeze slipped through the screen door. Somewhere, a dog barked. Caitlin wanted to bite her own tongue just to feel something.

“We thought it was time to talk,” her dad said, trying too hard to sound casual. “Really talk. No tension. No pushing.”

“You mean no Notre Dame?” she asked. It came out sharper than she meant. Or maybe exactly how she meant.

Her mom winced. “Yes.”

Her dad nodded. “We messed that up. Badly. Cait...”

She stared at the condensation pooling under her glass. Didn’t say a word.

“We were proud,” her mom tried again. “But scared. And it came out all wrong. We thought we knew what your life should look like, and when you chose something else—”

“Someone else,” Caitlin said. Voice flat. Just a jab to see if they flinched.

Her dad didn’t take the bait. “Somewhere else. We didn’t know how to support you, and instead of learning, we shut down.”

Caitlin’s nails dug into her sleeves. “You didn’t come to a single game.”

“We know,” her mom said. Quiet. Ashamed.

“You missed the Purdue buzzer-beater. Michigan comeback. First thirty-piece. All of it.”

“We watched them all on TV,” her dad offered, helpless.

“It’s not the same.” Her voice cracked. Just a little. “You think I didn’t notice? I watched every parent in the stands walk down to hug their kid after a win. And I just... went to the locker room. Alone.”

Silence.

“You left me alone.” I had Kate. She thought to herself.

Her mom folded her hands tightly in her lap. Her ring clinked against the table. “We owe you more than an apology.”

You owe me presence, Caitlin thought. You owe me curiosity. You owe me the version of you that doesn’t make love conditional on a zip code and a goddamn uniform.

But instead, she said nothing. Just let the weight sit there.

Her mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Slid it across like it might matter.

Caitlin blinked. Her own handwriting. Her commitment letter to Iowa. The one she printed herself because they hadn’t said a word the day she signed.

“We found it on the fridge,” her mom said. “Behind Colin’s SAT stuff. And I realized... we never celebrated it. We never framed it. You made a decision for yourself, and we turned our backs.”

Her dad cleared his throat. “We’d like to come this year. To games. If that’s okay.”

Caitlin ran her thumb along the edge of the paper. Folded. Soft from neglect.

“No more transfer talk,” her mom added. “No more guilt trips. You’re where you belong. And we see that now.”

The tightness in her chest didn’t vanish. But it rearranged.

“I’m not the same girl you wanted to reroute,” she said finally. “I don’t need you to show up to make me feel worthy. But I do need you to stop making everything I love feel like rebellion.”

Her mom’s mouth trembled. “We miss you. Not the version we imagined. You.”

Caitlin folded the paper again, this time with care. “Okay.”

Her dad stood. Didn’t reach for her. Just waited. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’ll help you pack.”

She waited.

Then:

“You’re not hard to love, Cait.” Her dad’s voice was steady. “We were just too scared of what it meant to do it right.”

And just like that, something in her gave. Not forgiveness. Not quite. But something cracked. Something shifted.

She let him take her hand.

But in the back of her mind, a question curled like smoke: if they come back into her life now... will there still be room for the part of her that loves Kate like breath?

And worse: will they see it, name it, and expect her to shrink?

Caitlin didn’t know. But she knew it was coming. And it scared the shit out of her.

—------

The car ride back felt longer than the drive out. Iowa’s late summer haze bled across the fields in a slow, golden smear. Caitlin kept her sunglasses on even after the sun dipped low. Didn’t touch the radio. Didn’t sing. Didn’t do anything but count fences and wonder what it would feel like to slam the brakes and let the car skid until everything stopped.

She hadn’t cried until the interstate exit. Then it came fast and hot. Not loud. Just this unbearable, quiet leak of pressure she couldn’t hold anymore.

By the time she pulled into the lot behind Kate’s apartment, her hands hurt from gripping the wheel. She didn’t get out. Just sat there, forehead against the leather, waiting for her heart to slow down.

Kate opened the building door and leaned against the frame. “You gonna live in your car now?”

“I’m weighing the pros and cons.”

She meant it more than she wanted to admit. But she got out anyway. Kate didn’t try to smile, just took the keys from her hand like it was muscle memory. Their fingers brushed. Caitlin flinched like she hadn’t expected kindness.

Inside, the apartment smelled like sunscreen and lemon dish soap and something distinctly Kate. The lights were soft. A fan hummed in the corner. A book was open on the table, half a page dog-eared.

Caitlin walked in too fast. Dropped her bag like it burned. Her shoes thudded against the wall. Then she turned and crashed into Kate’s chest like gravity had finally caught her.

Kate caught her—but Caitlin pulled back just as quickly.

“Sorry,” Caitlin muttered. “That was—”

“Human,” Kate said.

“I didn’t want to need anything when I got back.”

Kate didn’t answer that. Just stepped aside and gave her space.

They ended up on the couch, sitting like two girls trying not to break open again. Caitlin’s hands stayed fidgety. Her eyes didn’t settle.

“They said they were proud of me,” she said finally. “That they’re gonna come to games this year. That they’re done with Notre Dame. And LSU.”

Kate’s eyebrow ticked up. “That’s a pretty sharp reversal.”

“I know.”

“Do you believe them?”

“I want to.”

Kate nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”

Silence stretched.

“I kept waiting for the part where they brought up God,” Caitlin said, too bitterly. “Or asked about dating. Or told me not to be ‘too visible.’ But they didn’t.”

“And that felt worse somehow?”

“It felt... careful. Like they’d been coached.”

Kate tilted her head. “Did you tell them about me?”

Caitlin looked away. “No.”

A beat.

“They don’t get to have that part.”

Kate didn’t move. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” Caitlin added, voice sharpening. “They disappeared on me for a whole year. And now they want the clean version. The one they can clap for from the stands. They don’t get the parts of me that bleed.”

Kate’s face didn’t flicker, but something in her posture softened. “Good. That’s yours to protect.”

“But you should know...” Caitlin’s voice thinned. “I think they’d try to make me smaller again if they could.”

Kate gave a small, sad smile. “Yeah. I figure”

“I won’t let them,” Caitlin said, fast. Like she needed to beat back the thought with volume.

“You don’t have to prove it to me.”

They looked at each other, still across the couch. Still not touching.

“You’ll tell me if I start shrinking?” Caitlin asked.

Kate’s voice was steady. “You won't shrink. You'll compress. You fold yourself smaller to survive. But yeah—I’ll tell you. And I’ll help you unfold again. I promise”

That cracked something.

Caitlin reached out and grabbed Kate’s hand, hard. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have to.

They curled up in bed later; the sheets pushed to the end of the bed; a breeze cutting through the humidity. Caitlin was still wound too tight to sleep.

“Are you nervous?” she whispered.

Kate shifted. “Yeah.”

“About what?”

Kate hesitated. “This might be my last year. I don’t know if I’m staying.”

Caitlin blinked up at the ceiling. “I thought we’d talk about that later.”

“I don't want it to be a secret.”

Caitlin didn’t argue. “Okay.”

“I love it here,” Kate said. “I love you. But I’m tired. And I think there’s a version of myself out there I want to find. But I want to stay. I want to win. I want to just, be the best version of myself. And I don't know where I can be that yet. ”

Caitlin swallowed. “Do you think that version still has room for me?”

Kate turned toward her fully. “Yes. Always yes.”

Caitlin nodded, almost too fast. “I want to win the conference this year.”

Kate smiled. “We will.”

“I want to lead. Not just with stats. I want to be the reason other girls feel like they can hold the ball with both hands and not flinch.”

“You already are.”

“I want to get stronger,” Caitlin continued. “I want to stop counting everything I eat like it’s a punishment. I want to play like I’m allowed to take up space.”

Kate didn’t say anything. Just brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed Caitlin’s knuckles one by one.

“What do you want?” Caitlin asked.

Kate looked at her like she was seeing her whole. “I want to leave something behind that makes the next generation better. I want to lead with integrity. I want to teach the freshmen how to fail with grace. I want to beat Indiana. I want to see you hit a game winner again”

Caitlin laughed, and it broke something loose.

They made a list together, whispered into the dark. Beat Maryland. Earn a double-bye. Win the conference. Go further in March. Trust each other when it’s ugly. Don’t hide. Don’t shrink. Don’t let fear be the loudest voice.

When Caitlin finally fell asleep, her face was tucked into Kate’s neck and their hands were still clasped. Kate didn’t sleep for a while. She just lay there, holding her girl and all the jagged pieces the world had asked her to smooth out.

Kate wouldn’t let her lose herself. Not this year.

Not ever.

—--------------

It started with a group text from Monika that said, simply: 🫡 mandatory team vibes. my place. 7. Then five minutes later: bring drinks. bring energy. bring Caitlin.

By the time Caitlin and Kate walked into Monika’s apartment, half the team was already there—Gabby and Jada sprawled on the floor with a deck of cards, McKenna shimmying in socks to a Dua Lipa remix, and two freshmen sitting too straight on the couch, trying too hard to seem chill.

One of them—AJ, wide-eyed and eager—watched Caitlin like she might combust.

Monika spotted them from the kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand, wearing a backwards bucket hat like it was her job. “Clark’s back, bitches!”

A cheer went up—half sincere, half performative. One of the freshmen clapped too hard, then stopped like she’d made a mistake.

Caitlin raised a hand awkwardly. “Hi. Uh. I have no updates. I’m still a nightmare.”

McKenna whooped. “As if we didn’t know!”

Kate dropped their bag by the door and brushed her hand across Caitlin’s lower back as she passed—just a whisper of touch. Caitlin froze for a breath, then moved like it hadn’t meant anything. But she felt it bloom all the way up her spine.

They worked the room in tandem—Kate asked about summer leagues, bumped fists, corrected a freshman’s squat form in the corner. Caitlin got ambushed by Kylie, who demanded, “Give me the weirdest fan moment of the offseason. Go.”

“Someone sent me a handwritten letter saying I changed their life,” Caitlin said.

“Aww,” Gabby said, grinning.

“Then they asked for a lock of my hair.”

“Ew.”

“Right?”

Near the kitchen, AJ glanced at them and whispered something to the freshman next to her. Caitlin caught the tail end of the look. Not exactly judgment—but not comfort either. That low flicker of unfamiliarity. She turned her back on it.

Later, Monika clanked a spoon against a White Claw can. “Alright, shut it. Captains, let’s go. Tell the youth how not to embarrass us.”

Kate leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Rule one. Don’t argue with the strength coach. Rule two. Don’t hook up with anyone from Northwestern. Rule three. If you’re offered a brand deal for detox tea, decline.”

Laughter rippled.

McKenna raised her spoon again. “Also, if you think two of your teammates might be hooking up—no you don’t.”

One of the freshmen choked on her soda. AJ coughed loudly and muttered, “Captain Sapphic over here isn’t even denying it.”

A beat. One of the freshmen choked. Gabby laughed a second too loud, then immediately went silent. Her eyes darted between Caitlin and Kate.

And then Jada—trying to keep the vibe light—added, “Come on, Captain Sapphic’s been running this place since last fall.”

The laughter this time was thinner. Uneven. Kate’s face didn’t flicker. She just sipped her drink.

Caitlin half-smiled like it didn’t catch. Like it didn’t sting.

Monika cut in, easy but deliberate. “Anyway. Back to actual advice—don’t leave tape rolls in the ice bath. We’re not animals.”

After most of the team had left—after the pizza had gone cold, Sydney had declared a dance battle to “Cool for the Summer,” and someone had spilled seltzer on Gabby’s sock—Kate and Caitlin slipped out to the balcony.

The night air was cooler now. A breeze swept through the haze. Caitlin leaned into the railing, freckled arms bare under the string lights. Kate stood behind her, just close enough for her knee to press against the back of Caitlin’s thigh.

“We did okay, right?” Caitlin asked.

Kate didn’t answer right away. “Freshmen are freshmen. They’ll calibrate.”

“I don’t want them to calibrate into something fake.”

Kate stepped closer, her voice low in her ear. “You’re not fake.”

“I’m edited.”

Kate slipped her fingers around Caitlin’s wrist, grounding her. “You’re surviving.”

Caitlin let her eyes close. “Did you see AJ’s face?”

“She’s young. You’re a legend. She probably slept in your jersey growing up.”

Caitlin huffed a laugh, then sobered. “I hate that I noticed. That it got to me.”

Kate brushed a knuckle along her spine. “You want to lead. Of course it gets to you.”

“I want to lead without needing to hide you.”

“Then don’t.”

“But if they see it—”

“Then they see it.”

Caitlin turned, needing to look her in the face. “You don’t ever worry they’ll blame you? For… softening me?”

“I worry they’ll blame me for wanting you out loud,” Kate said. “But not enough to stop.”

Caitlin didn’t respond. Just leaned forward, hands sliding into Kate’s hoodie. Her mouth found Kate’s like it couldn’t not.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Desperate. The kind of kiss that asked a thousand questions all at once: Are you here? Are you mine? Do I still feel real?

Kate answered by pulling her closer. By kissing back like they had all the time in the world and none of it at all.

When they broke apart, Caitlin rested her forehead against Kate’s. “I want this year to be worth something. Not just for the team. For us. I want it to mean something.”

Kate’s hands tightened around her waist. “Then let’s make it matter. All of it. The wins. The mess. The parts we don’t show anyone else.”

Caitlin nodded. “And if someone asks—one of them—if we’re together?”

Kate kissed her once more, soft this time. Reverent.

“We say yes.”

Caitlin exhaled. “Okay.”

Kate leaned closer, chin brushing Caitlin’s shoulder. “Also? You almost lost it when I touched your back earlier.”

Caitlin elbowed her. “You were watching my mouth the whole fan letter story.”

Kate smirked. “Can you blame me?”

Caitlin turned to face her, voice low. “That thing you did with your hands—”

“Mmhmm?”

“—still makes my legs shake if I sit too fast.”

Kate groaned, teeth catching her lip. “Jesus.”

From inside, Gabby called: “Hey lovebirds! Are you making out or just psychically scissoring again?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Let’s go before I embarrass myself in front of the children.”

They didn’t stop holding hands till they hit the stairs.

-------------

It happened two nights later. No music this time. No freshmen. Just the four of them—Kate, Caitlin, Monika, and McKenna—tucked into Kate and McKenna’s apartment, shoes off, pizza boxes open, legs curled under throw blankets. The window was cracked just enough to let the breeze in, and someone had lit a candle that smelled vaguely like cinnamon.

They didn’t mean for it to turn serious.

At first it was just catch-up. A few jokes about lift tests, professor name mix-ups, Monika’s failed attempt to start a team group meditation. But when Caitlin shifted on the couch, close enough so she was laying back in Kate's lap, like they did every night in Chicago, something in the room tipped.

Monika stretched, then gave a pointed look to no one in particular. “Alright. We doing this or not?”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

McKenna snorted. “She means the unspoken ‘how do we navigate you two now that we’re back in season’ conversation.”

Caitlin blinked. “We’re right here, you know.”

“Exactly,” Monika said. “Which is why we’re having this conversation with you, like adults. Or at least like athletes who pass their classes.”

Kate leaned her head back against the couch. “Okay. Rules, expectations, boundaries. Let’s go.”

McKenna grinned. “Love a group policy doc.”

Monika looked between them. “So. You two are… what now?”

Caitlin shrugged. “Still very much in love with each other. Trying not to make it anyone else’s problem.”

Kate added, “And trying not to get fired as captain by my aunt.”

“Reasonable,” McKenna said. “So what’s the plan for on-campus stuff? PDA? Holding hands in the dining hall? Intense eye contact in the weight room?”

“Eye contact is allowed,” Caitlin deadpanned. “Just not the gay kind.”

Kate laughed. “We’ll keep it respectful. But we’re not pretending we’re not together, at least with the team. But we're not putting it on display like we're in a rom com to campus."

Monika nodded. “Good. Because everyone on the team already knows. Subtlety isn’t exactly your brand, Cait.”

“Rude,” Caitlin muttered.

“But fair,” McKenna said.

Monika leaned forward. “More seriously—can we agree on no rooming together during travel?”

Kate nodded. “Already assumed that.”

“No hooking up in team spaces,” McKenna added.

“Obviously,” Caitlin said. Then paused. “Though technically the locker room is where I fell in love.”

Kate smacked her knee. “Stop it.”

“I’m just saying,” Caitlin grinned.

Monika rolled her eyes. “You two are disgusting.”

“And adorable,” McKenna offered. “But mostly disgusting.”

They all laughed. The tension broke just enough to breathe easier.

After a moment, Caitlin asked, “If someone on the team asks directly… we’re honest?”

Kate looked at her. “I think so. As long as it’s someone we trust.”

McKenna said, “I think that’s fair. We’re not asking you to hide. Just to think before you act. You’re leaders. And what you model matters.”

Caitlin nodded. “Got it.”

Monika reached for another slice of pizza. “Alright. This was weirdly productive.”

Kate leaned into Caitlin slightly. “We’re a powerhouse of emotional maturity.”

“You’re a menace,” Caitlin whispered.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

McKenna sighed. “Please just don’t make us have this talk again midseason.”

“We won’t,” Caitlin said. “We’ve got it.”

They did. For now, anyway.

—------------

The crash-out started with a crack in her footwork.

Kate missed a hedge on a screen, turned too slow, and caught the back of Jada’s sneaker instead. She stumbled, caught herself, kept going—but she felt it. The delay. The drag.

The second time, she missed a pass. Then a shot. Then another. Her knees didn’t sit right under her, her elbow flared too far out, and her follow-through had no bite.

By the end of the scrimmage, she could barely look up.

They weren’t even supposed to be practicing hard yet. Preseason was unofficial, all captain-led and unstructured. But even in that chaos, Kate felt the structure collapse under her own two feet.

And she knew why.

While Caitlin was in the gym every day this summer, building her shot, tightening her handle, Kate was stuck behind a desk. Long hours at her internship. Patient meetings. Commuter trains. She got shots up when she could—before sunrise or after dark—but nothing consistent. Nothing like Caitlin, who had nothing but time and drive and hunger.

Kate could feel the gap now. Not just in her legs, but in the air between them.

“Fuck,” she muttered, pulling at her jersey the second she got to the sideline.

Caitlin walked over slowly, unflushed from the run. “You okay?”

Kate didn’t answer. Just grabbed a water bottle and turned away.

“Hey.” Caitlin caught her arm. “Kate.” 

“I want to be better,” she said, voice tight. “I want to give you the season you deserve.”

“That’s not your job.”

Kate shook her head. “Yes, it is. You want to win the conference. You want to go to March and take it all. I’m your captain, Caitlin. I’m supposed to lead. And I can’t even get my feet right.”

Caitlin softened. “You’re allowed to be behind.”

“No, I’m not.” Kate’s voice cracked. “Not when I’ve got freshmen watching every move. Not when I’m supposed to be the example. Not when I’m the one who’s supposed to ground you.”

Caitlin stepped closer. “You do ground me.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get what you came here to find.”

“That’s not even close to the truth.”

Kate looked away. Her jaw Kate looked away. Her jaw clenched. “Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be as good as you need. You got better this summer. You leveled up. And I—I spent half of mine in scrubs. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be as good as you need.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Kate blinked, startled.

Caitlin didn’t back down. “You think I need perfect? I’ve had perfect. Perfect is cold. Perfect is lonely. Perfect doesn’t carry my weight when I can’t hold it.”

She pressed her forehead against Kate’s. “I need you. Not some version of you that never misses a rotation. You.”

Kate’s breath caught. “I want to give you what you want. I want to work hard and be better and not drag you down. I want—fuck, Cait—I want to matter.”

Caitlin reached out and cupped the back of her neck. “You already do.”

Kate didn’t flinch. But her eyes brimmed. “Not like you.”

“No one’s like me,” Caitlin said, a little too lightly.

Kate laughed, sharp and cracked. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

“You love that about me.”

“I really do.”

“Let me help,” Caitlin whispered. “Tomorrow. Early morning. Just us. Let me help you get your rhythm back.”

Kate closed her eyes. “You’ll go easy on me?”

“I’ll go hard on you and then I’ll go down on you,” Caitlin smirked.

Kate choked on a laugh. “Jesus.”

Caitlin kissed her temple. “Bring your shoes. Bring your fire. I’ve got the rest.”

Kate hesitated. “You sure?”

“Let me help you get your rhythm back.”

Kate swallowed. “Okay.”

—-------------

The next morning, they were on the court by 6:15. No music. No distractions. Just echo and breath and the slap of sneakers on polished hardwood.

Caitlin had the lights on low, the overhead fluorescents still warming up. A single ball skidded across the floor when she passed it to Kate.

“Three pull-ups from the elbow,” Caitlin said. “No drifting. No thinking. Just shoot.”

Kate caught the ball, set her feet, and fired. Missed left.

“Again.”

She caught, reset, fired. Rattled out.

“Again.”

Caitlin’s voice wasn’t cruel—it was relentless. Kate swallowed the sting in her throat and shot again. Swish.

“There’s my girl,” Caitlin said, voice low and proud.

Kate exhaled through her nose, hard. “One out of three.”

“One that felt right.” Caitlin stepped closer. “You want your rhythm back? Then stop measuring it. Just move. And do it 15 more times."

She did.

They rolled into footwork drills next—quick steps across cones, off-the-dribble hesitations into snatches. Caitlin mirrored her at half-speed, barking adjustments. “Drop your hips. No, lower. Reset. You're coasting. I want an explosion.”

Kate shoved off the baseline with a grunt, drove into the turn, and pulled up for a midrange. Net.

Caitlin grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Kate shook out her arms, breath coming short, chest slick with sweat. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I like watching you work,” Caitlin said, stepping into her space. “I like watching you fight for it.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed, sharp with something hungry. “Then spot me in the weight room.”

They moved without pause. Upstairs, the gym was silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint clink of weights from the racks. The air was thick with rubber, chalk, and whatever heat still pulsed between them from the court.

Caitlin tied her hair up into a messy knot. Her chest was still rising fast beneath her cutoff tank. She watched as Kate peeled off her overshirt and dropped it to the floor. Her tank top underneath was soaked through at the lower back, clinging to her like a second skin. Her sports bra straps were sliding just slightly off her shoulder blades, exposing the strength threaded through her frame.

“Front squats,” Caitlin said. “Three sets. Ten reps. I’ll rack you up.”

Kate didn’t blink. Just stepped into position like she was walking into battle.

The first rep carved heat into her thighs. The second scorched through her quads. By the fifth, her breath was ragged, and Caitlin was close enough behind her that she could feel her—heat, presence, a hand brushing beneath the bar with every rise and fall.

“Stay low,” Caitlin whispered. “Drive up through your heels.”

Kate dropped. Rose. Dropped again. Her face flushed deeper, a bead of sweat trailing down from her temple, catching at her jaw. Her forearms trembled. Her core pulled tight. Caitlin’s palm skimmed lightly across her hip to correct her angle—and Kate shivered, not from the strain.

“You’ve got more,” Caitlin murmured, voice thick now, lips near her ear. “Come on. Show me.”

Kate dropped lower, grunted, and exploded up, teeth grit, everything in her locked on that voice. When she finally racked the bar and stepped back, her legs were shaking and her tank stuck to every line of her ribcage.

“Fuck,” she gasped, hand braced on her knee. “You’re a menace.”

Caitlin’s gaze dragged up her body. “You look strong.”

Kate caught her breath, then grabbed the hem of her shirt and peeled it off in one motion. Her abs glistened under the overhead lights, muscles tight and twitching from exertion.

“Then let’s keep going,” she said.

They rotated through circuits—power cleans that turned into competitions, barbell rows that left Kate’s back rippling, lunges that burned a slow, deep ache into her thighs. Caitlin followed her every move, coaching with clipped instructions and too-warm eyes. She spotted her through triceps dips, corrected her alignment with hands on her waist, adjusted her back position with a palm low on her spine.

At the bench press, Kate lay flat, chest rising and falling. Her breath was high in her throat, skin flushed and glistening. Caitlin leaned over her, hands ghosting under the bar, eyes burning down.

“Focus on the drive,” Caitlin said, low and firm. “Not the drop.”

Kate grunted, pushed. The bar wobbled—just for a second—but she recovered. Pressed up, arms shaking, biceps pulled tight.

Caitlin’s eyes didn’t move. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now.”

Kate’s arms gave out a little at the end of the set. Caitlin caught the bar, helped her rack it.

Kate sat up fast. Breathless. Jaw tight.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she said, “and I’m gonna take you home and make you scream my name until you forget how to talk.”

Caitlin leaned in. Lips brushing her shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

Kate stood. Shoulders bare. Still sweating. Still burning.

“We can’t,” she said, barely getting it out. “We promised Monika. No team spaces.”

Caitlin’s mouth twitched. “So what?”

Kate stared at her for a beat—then grabbed her hand.

“Race you.”

And just like that, they were gone—sprinting through the hallways, breathless and laughing, until they burst into the sun.

—-

They were back in the apartment by 9:40. Rays poured in through the east-facing windows, warming the hardwood like a blessing. Their bags thudded to the floor. Caitlin pulled off her hoodie the second the door shut, tank damp beneath, skin flushed from the run. Her breath still came high in her chest, not quite even.

Kate watched her like she was made of heat and gravity.

“You good?” Caitlin asked, stretching her arms overhead with a groan. Her stomach flexed under her shirt. She was flushed, radiant, alive.

Kate didn’t answer.

Instead, she stepped forward, pressed her palm flat to Caitlin’s sternum, and walked her backward until her spine hit the hallway wall. Then kissed her—fast and hard and messy. Teeth. Tongue. The kind of kiss that had nothing to do with politeness.

Caitlin didn’t argue. She grabbed Kate by the waistband and pulled her down the hall, shedding layers as she went. Her tank top hit the floor. Socks next. 

Caitlin moaned into Kate’s mouth, hands already fisting in the hem of Kate’s shirt, tugging it upward. Their hips bumped. Their breath tangled. They were still half-laced in gym clothes, sweat cooling on their skin, heat rising anyway.

Kate’s fingers were digging into the waistband of Caitlin’s shorts, thumbs sliding under the hem. Caitlin’s pulse jumped under her skin. The hallway air buzzed—warm and golden and charged. The world had narrowed to the heat between them.

Kate dipped her head to Caitlin’s collarbone and kissed her there. Once. Again. Slower the second time. Caitlin gasped, spine arching off the wall.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Kate whispered, mouth brushing the hollow of her throat. “I need to take my time with you.”

Caitlin’s hands tightened in her hair. “Then do it.”

Kate sank to her knees.

The sight of her there—sweaty, flushed, wild-eyed—took Caitlin’s breath. Kate didn’t look away as she pressed a kiss low on her stomach, then another below the waistband. Her thumbs slid under elastic, peeled down Caitlin’s shorts inch by inch, reverent.

Kate kissed her thighs like they were scripture. Bit once. Then soothed the mark with her tongue. Her hands wrapped around Caitlin’s legs and pulled her forward just enough to grind her down, just enough to say, I’ve got you. Caitlin shivered hard.

Then Kate leaned in and worshipped her properly.

It was slow at first. Precise. Her mouth finding every soft spot like a promise. Caitlin moaned loud, her hands scrabbling at the wall. Her hips jerked forward and Kate held her steady—anchored her there with fingers that said you’re not running from this. Not from me.

Caitlin gasped, “God, Katie—”

And Kate hummed low into her, proud, possessive. “Say my name again.”

“Kate—fuck—Kate.”

Caitlin shattered against her mouth, breath stuttering, body shaking. Kate didn’t let up. She stayed there, licked her through it, until Caitlin was moaning into her own shoulder and begging, please, I can’t.

Kate stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and kissed her—deep and slow and full of fire. “Yes, you can.”

“Lie down,” Caitlin whispered, pushing Kate down.

Kate, her back hitting the mattress, her muscles still warm from the workout, looked up as Caitlin climbed on top. Her knees bracketing Kate's hips, and she just looked at her for a moment—like she needed to memorize every angle.

“You need this,” Caitlin said, brushing her fingers over Kate’s jaw. “To feel strong. To remember what you give.”

Kate swallowed. “I’m not you. I don’t—score forty. I don’t lead out loud.”

“No,” Caitlin said. “You lead with your whole body. You love with your whole soul. And you’re mine.”

She bent down and kissed her—deep, slow, devastating.

Kate moaned into her mouth, hands sliding up Caitlin’s thighs, gripping tight at her waist. Caitlin rocked her hips forward, teasing, breath catching when their skin met. They moved like they remembered each other. Like their bodies had waited all morning to get back to this.

When Caitlin slid down, kissing her way across Kate’s chest, sucking Kate’s sensitive nipples, and rubbing her own nipples against the soft buds. Kate arched into her. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m not stopping,” Caitlin whispered. “I’m claiming you,” she growled into Kate’s ear, biting down on it and lightly teasing Kate’s pussy against her knee.

She worshipped Kate the same way Kate had just worshipped her. Kissed every freckle, licked every line of tension from her abs to her hips. Her hands gripped Kate’s thighs as she sucked a bruise into the sharp edge of her hip—mine, mine, mine - she whispered biting down on Kate’s hip bone lightly.

Kate was panting by the time Caitlin moved between her legs. Caitlin kissed her inner thigh once, then again, then again, until Kate was trembling. She let herself linger—nose brushing the inside of Kate’s knee, lips pressing into sweat-warmed skin, hands stroking up along her calves, her thighs, her hips, throwing all the fabric off her body.

Caitlin devoured her.

Not like she was a prize.

Like she was a promise.

When Caitlin finally mouthed over her, she did it soft—just a flick of tongue, a press of lips, a slow, coaxing tease. Kate gasped and jerked forward, her back bowing off the mattress like she was reaching for something she hadn’t let herself need in weeks.

“Breathe,” Caitlin murmured, voice muffled against her. “I’ve got you.”

Kate whimpered. “Don’t tease. Not today.”

“I’m not.” A kiss. A lick. “I’m building you up.”

Her hands gripped Kate’s thighs, thumbs stroking circles, grounding her. Caitlin worked her mouth with intent now—firm strokes, slow suction, rhythm and reverence all at once. Not just chasing release. Drawing it out. Showing her what it meant to be wanted.

Kate’s hands clawed at the sheets, then found Caitlin’s hair, anchoring. “Fuck, Cait, please—”

Caitlin glanced up, eyes dark and full of heat. “I need you to let go.”

“I’m trying—” Kate choked.

“No.” Caitlin kissed her once, deep, right where it counted. “I mean let me. Let me carry you.”

That broke something open.

Caitlin didn’t rush. She kissed her again—slow, sure, deliberate. Then she pulled back just enough to bring her hand between Kate’s thighs, slick and steady. Her fingers moved in sync with her mouth: gentle at first, coaxing. A rhythm that said I see you. I know how hard it is to let go. But you’re safe here.

Kate whimpered, hips twitching. Her whole body was one taut line of tension, holding on by a thread.

Caitlin felt it. Felt the need, the fight, the instinct to earn every inch of this. So she went slower. Deeper. She curled her fingers just right and dragged them forward, over and over, until Kate gasped, “Oh my god—Cait—please—”

“Let it happen,” Caitlin whispered, hot breath against her skin. “Don’t hold back.”

Kate’s hands gripped her shoulders like she was going under.

Caitlin pressed deeper, licked harder—using her whole mouth now, her jaw working, her free hand anchoring Kate’s hip to the bed.

Kate bucked against her—once, twice—and then broke.

She came in waves, loud and shuddering, her whole body collapsing into Caitlin’s hands like something sacred. Her head tipped back. Her throat bared. She wasn’t quiet. She didn’t want to be.

And Caitlin—wrecked, breathless, wild for her—didn’t stop until she’d wrung every last pulse from her, until Kate was whispering her name like a benediction.

Only then did Caitlin crawl up her body, settle their foreheads together, and kiss her long and slow.

Their eyes met. Kate’s chest heaved.

“Now,” she whispered, dragging Caitlin up fully onto the bed. “Now I fuck you.”

Caitlin nodded, dazed. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

Kate rolled them with practiced ease—Caitlin flat on her back, Kate straddling her hips. Their skin was slick, their chests heaving in tandem. Light slanted across the bed in stripes. Everything glowed.

Kate kissed her. Deep. Lingering. A kiss that tasted like sweat and salt and devotion. Her hand trailed down Caitlin’s side, slow, then lower—dragging her fingers through Caitlin’s slick folds until Caitlin was gasping and arching against her.

Kate worked her like a game she’d trained for. She teased—slow circles, then a pause. A gentle thrust, then a retreat. Caitlin arched, whined, grabbed at her wrist.

“Need you,” Caitlin breathed. “What do you, need right now?” she asked, steady.

Kate’s hands were already sliding up her sides. “I need to feel strong again,” she said. “I need to take control of something and know I’m good at it. I need to fuck you like I deserve to be on the floor next to you.”

Caitlin brushed her fingers along Kate’s jaw, eyes locked. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. But I want you. And I want you to have what you want, too.”

“I know.” Kate kissed her again, then pulled back, chest rising fast. Her hand still between Caitlin’s thighs, fingers full of her. She hesitated, just a beat. Then her voice dropped, low and rough. “Can I ask you something?”

Caitlin blinked up at her, dazed. “Of course.”

Kate’s hand stilled inside of her, rubbing just her clit in circles. “Will you let me… try something different?”

Caitlin’s heart stuttered and her breath sharpened.

Caitlin nodded once. “What do you mean?”

Kate swallowed. Her hand moved to Caitlin’s hip, thumb brushing the line of her pelvis. “I want you on your knees. Hands down. I want to fuck you like that.”

Caitlin’s breath hitched, Kate had two fingers circling her clit. Caitlin's fingers curled in the sheets.

Kate kept going. “I’ve been stuck in my head. About the court. About everything. And when I was under you just now, when you looked at me like I was everything… I want to hold onto that. I want to feel strong again. Not just loved. Strong.”

Caitlin’s voice shook as she moaned. . “Take me how you want me, baby.”

“This isn’t like before,” she growled, breath hot against her skin. “I’m not being gentle. I’m going to pin you down, fuck you deep, and make sure you feel exactly how much I want you. Every second. Every inch. Until you stop trying to be good and just let go.”

Caitlin didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. 

Kate paused, and then continues. “It’s exposed. Raw. I’ll see everything. You’ll feel everything. I’ll tear you open—in the best way. I’ll keep you wide and shaking and mine. But only if you want that. If you want me.”

“I want all of it,” she whispered. “I want you to see everything. To take me apart. I want to feel you claiming me like you mean it. I don’t need gentle. I need you.”

Kate blinked hard, her throat clenching around the knot rising fast. “Even when I’m like this?”

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. She traced her thumb over Kate’s trembling knuckles. “Especially like this,” she whispered. “When you let me see the want. When you don’t hide. When you choose me.”

Kate leaned in, breath shallow, pressing their foreheads together like it was the only thing holding her upright. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Caitlin said, low and certain. “You never have. You couldn’t.”

Kate swallowed. “You’ll tell me if you need to stop? If it’s too much?”

Caitlin’s eyes flickered, full and open. “Yeah. I always will. Thank you for asking.” She tightened her grip on Kate’s hand. “But I want this. I want you. Like this.”

A long beat stretched between them—hot, charged, pulsing.

Kate’s exhale came rough and uneven. “Roll over,” she rasped. “Now. Please.”

And Caitlin did. Slow like a secret. Intentional like a promise. She turned, crawled across the mattress with her back arched and thighs parted, every motion deliberate, offering herself up without apology. Then she looked back over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes blown wide with hunger and trust and something that tasted like surrender.

Kate's breath stuttered, the ache in her chest eclipsed only by the rush of power curling low in her stomach.

Caitlin held her gaze, eyes full and gleaming. “Take what you need,” she whispered, shifting her knees wider, spine curving with anticipation. “I’m yours.”

Kate should’ve just looked at her and moved. Should’ve let instinct take over. But something in her stalled—caught between reverence and hunger, trembling on the edge of too much. Because Caitlin wasn’t just offering her body. She was giving her everything. Trust, want, devotion. No caveats. No armor.

It hit Kate like a wave—sudden, staggering, holy.

Her knees nearly buckled.

How the hell did I get this lucky? How the hell do I hold this right?

She reached out, fingertips tracing the dip of Caitlin’s lower back, breath catching at the shiver it pulled. Her voice, when it came, cracked around the edges.

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you right now.”

And then she moved forward, heart in her throat, ready to make Caitlin feel every inch of it.

Kate reached for the drawer already half-open, strap tucked where it always lived—top left corner, folded like something sacred. Her fingers closed around it with care, reverence. The lube sat beside it. She grabbed both and stood.

For a moment, she just breathed.

The weight of it in her hands grounded her. Reminded her what she was about to do. Not just fuck. Not just perform. But give. Give something only she could offer Caitlin—here, now, in the quiet where no one else got to see.

She stepped into the harness, tugged the straps up her thighs, fastened the waist around her hips. Tight. Secure. Then, with careful fingers, she slid the vibrator attachment into place where her clit rested - the one they picked out together in Chicago. The one Caitlin held in her palm in the store.

It nestled snug against her, sending a slow, teasing but light pressure through her core. She adjusted the base against her pelvis, breath catching as sensation sparked low in her stomach. Her heart pounded under her ribs like a war drum.

It wasn’t just arousal. It was a drive. Hunger. That gnawing want to do something right. To feel worthy. Worthy of Caitlin’s body. Worthy of her gaze. Worthy of the way she’d just looked up and said “Take me how you want me” like it was the easiest truth in the world.

Kate buckled the last strap and looked down. She slicked her fingers with lube and breathed through the rush of heat that spiked low in her belly.

Breathed through the sensation on her clit—already throbbing from the vibrator’s steady hum, pressed tight where the base met her skin. Every movement sent a ripple through her, not overwhelming but insistent, building under the surface. It made her more aware of everything—her breath, her hands, the girl waiting for her, raw, and open, at the edge of the bed.

God. She loved her.

Kate dropped to her knees on the bed, leaned forward, kissed Caitlin’s lower back, and whispered against her skin, “I’ve got you.”

Then Kate reached down and coated herself with lube—slow, deliberate, fingers gliding with purpose—while her other hand pressed into Caitlin’s hip, steadying her.

Caitlin's breath stuttered.

They'd done this before. A few times. With Kate on top of her.

Caitlin knew the stretch, the fullness, the way Kate moved inside her like she meant it. But never like this. Never from behind—open like this, vulnerable like this, bare and bowed and ready to be taken.

Her cheek pressed to the mattress. Her thighs parted wider.

And still, her body begged: More.

This wasn’t careful. This wasn’t slow eye contact and murmured words and hips cradled in trembling hands. This was primal. Intimate in a different way. She couldn’t see Kate’s face, couldn’t read her in real time—and that made it hotter. That made it more.

Every inch of her was exposed. Every nerve lit up.

She felt the head of the strap brush against her, slick and steady, and her breath caught.

Caitlin’s breath hitched. Her skin burned where Kate touched her, a live wire pulled. She could feel the slick heat of her own arousal dripping down her thigh, could feel the anticipation building like pressure behind her ribs.

She’s going to be inside me.

Caitlin wanted to feel it stretch her open, claim her, make her whimper. She wanted Kate to hold her hips down and fuck her like she meant it. No pretense, no carefulness—just hunger and heat and truth.

Kate looked at the girl in front of her—arched and waiting and brave—and thought, Let me be the best for you. Let me be the best at this. Let me give you what you deserve.

“This okay?” she asked, hovering at Caitlin's entrance, voice lower now. Steadier.

Caitlin nodded, breathless. “Yeah. I want this.”

Kate poured a careful line of lube along her palm and worked it between her fingers, warming it before touching Caitlin. She kissed the small of her back first, soft and grounding. Then slid her slick fingers between Caitlin’s thighs—slow, reverent, checking her every breath.

God, this felt different.

Caitlin’s chest was pressed to the sheets, knees apart, ass up—and it should’ve felt ridiculous, humiliating even, but it didn’t. Not with Kate. Not with the way Kate’s hands moved—slow, careful, like she was handling something priceless. Like she was already inside the moment before she’d ever slid in.

Caitlin let her head fall forward, cheek brushing the pillow. Her hips rolled involuntarily toward Kate’s hand, toward that slick, steady pressure that was coaxing her open one breath at a time.

Kate’s fingers circled around her entrance again. A whisper, a tease.

“You’re already so good for me,” Kate murmured, and the words hit Caitlin somewhere deeper than her body.

She couldn’t see Kate’s face from here, but she could feel her. Every breath, every shift in weight, every trembling inch of restraint. The air between them was thick—charged, worshipful. Caitlin’s pulse thrummed in her neck.

And then she heard it. Low. Guttural. Kate moaning behind her—quiet at first, then sharper, like she hadn’t meant to let it out. The vibrator they’d tucked into the base was working through her, too, and Caitlin could hear it in the way her breath caught, the way her hips rocked forward like she was losing control of her own rhythm.

God, Caitlin thought, she’s feeling it too.

The thought made her clench around nothing. Made her push back into Kate’s hands, desperate to be filled, to be claimed.

Kate slid one finger in, slow and careful.

The angle made everything sharper. Fuller. There was no softness to fold into, no eye contact to blur the edges. Just the open curve of her spine, the shake of her thighs, the raw throb of being taken from behind—of being seen like this and still loved through it.

Caitlin gasped.

Kate stilled. “Okay?”

“Yes.” Caitlin's voice caught, breath punching out of her. “Just—fuck—it’s a lot.”

Kate leaned in, kissed the middle of her back. “It’s supposed to be.”

She started moving again, shallow thrusts, curling her finger with purpose.

Caitlin bit the sheet, breath coming hard. She’d never felt this open. Never felt Kate this deep, this deliberate. It was like being peeled back layer by layer until all that was left was nerve and want and love.

Another finger pressed in beside the first, lube easing the stretch. Caitlin moaned, arching back. “Kate…”

“I’ve got you.” Her voice was molten now. Steady. Certain. “Let me get you ready. Let me give you all of me.”

Caitlin shivered. “Feels, so, good, baby.”

She let herself surrender to the rhythm of Kate’s fingers, letting her body bloom under the attention. Every nerve lit. Every inch of her shook with something holy. Her thighs trembled, breath gone uneven.

Kate’s lips ghosted along her spine, reverent and slow. “You’re doing so fucking good for me.”

Her fingers curled again, working Caitlin open with patient, filthy precision—slick sounds filling the room, Caitlin’s body trembling beneath her.

Every breath Caitlin took felt ragged. Electric. The second finger made her stretch wide, ache deep. And the way Kate said “all of me”—like a vow, like a promise—sent something hot and helpless spiraling through her.

Kate pressed her palm flat against Caitlin’s lower back, anchoring her. Grounding her. And then she withdrew her fingers slowly, trailing lube and want and heat in their wake.

“You ready?” she murmured, voice dark, breath shaky with need.

Caitlin nodded fast, eyes squeezed shut. “Please. Now.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Kate said, hoarse. “So ready. Always ready for me.”

Caitlin moaned as Kate lined up.

“Tell me,” Kate said again, voice rough, trembling with restraint. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Caitlin exhaled hard, the words pouring out like prayer. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you take it. Not because you’re trying to be enough. Because you already are. Because I need you. Like this.”

Kate’s breath hitched. Her hand slid up Caitlin’s spine, slow and grounding, fingers splayed wide to feel every heartbeat under her skin.

“You’ll have me,” she said, barely above a growl. “All of me. Now.”

“You’re mine?” Kate asked, voice thick.

Caitlin looked over her shoulder, eyes heavy. “Always.”

Kate leaned down, kissed the spot where Caitlin’s shoulder met her neck. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Kate spread her knees wider, lining up. But she didn’t thrust yet. She ran her hands along Caitlin’s thighs, slow, possessive. Then dragged her fingers between her legs—slick, aching, ready.

Caitlin groaned. “Been wet for you since you spotted me on the barbell.”

Kate grinned against her skin. “Good.”

She teased—rubbing, pressing, circling her clit, which she had ignored completely before, slow. Just enough to make Caitlin whimper, shift, beg.

“Kate,” she gasped. “Please.”

And then Kate pressed in.

“Louder.”

“Please, I want you to fuck me, Kate.”

Then—

She thrust in—deep and all at once—burying herself to the hilt.

Caitlin cried out, back arching, thighs trembling, the stretch ripping through her like a tidal wave.

Kate stilled inside her, both hands firm on Caitlin’s waist. “You feel that?” she murmured, voice wrecked. “That’s all of me.

Caitlin moaned, nodding into the mattress, wide open. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare.” Caitlin’s mouth fell open, her back arching as Kate filled her. A low cry broke from her lips. Kate gripped her hips, held her steady, and drove in deeper. She didn’t start fast. She started intentional—deep, rhythmic thrusts that made Caitlin keen with every pass.

Kate kept at it. One hand fisted in Caitlin’s hair, the other holding steady at her hip. Caitlin arched into it, cried out, nails clawing at the sheets. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was all grit and slick and momentum—Kate driving into her like she could rewrite every ounce of doubt.

“Let me hear you,” Kate growled, voice cracking. “Let them all know who you belong to.”

She buried her face against Caitlin’s shoulder blade and exhaled. “God, you feel good. I feel—fuck—I feel everything.”

Kate’s hips pressed flush against Caitlin’s, every breath staggered with effort and heat. Sweat slicked their skin, glinting in the morning light. Her thighs burned. Her heart pounded. But her mind—her mind was quiet. For the first time in weeks, no spiraling thoughts, no fear of being behind or not enough.

Only this.

The slick slide of skin against skin. The way the vibrator inside the harness pulsed in time with Kate's thrusts—sharp, heady jolts that made her legs shake, made her groan against Caitlin’s spine. Every time she moved, she felt it. The friction. The fullness. Caitlin’s body clenching around her, and the delicious ache that bloomed low in her own core. It wasn’t just control—it was connection, mirrored and mutual. She was fucking Caitlin, yes, but she was being unraveled, too.

Caitlin moaned, loud and wrecked. “Kate. Kate. You. I’m yours. Please don’t stop.”

Kate’s breath stuttered. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. The sun kept pouring in. Caitlin’s body rocked forward with every thrust, fingers clawing the sheets, legs trembling. Kate wasn’t thinking about missed shots. About film breakdowns or off-seasons or being the second-best player in any room. She was thinking about Caitlin — right here, right now — on her knees, trembling, taking every part of her and asking for more.

“You feel that?” Kate hissed. “That’s control. That’s mine.”

Caitlin moaned in response, pushing back into her, every motion a promise: I believe in you. I trust you. Take it.

“You’re so good,” Kate said, voice shaking. “So fucking good for me. You give me everything,” Kate panted. “Let me give it back.”

Kate leaned over, her chest brushing Caitlin’s back, her hand trailing from Caitlin’s hip to the space just below her ribs. She didn’t thrust again yet. She just held her there. Felt her. Listened to the sound of Caitlin’s breath catching. The low, guttural sounds that spilled when Kate rolled her hips just enough to tease.

“You are,” Caitlin gasped. “You are. You’re perfect. Just like this.”

Kate leaned over her, kissed the back of her neck. Then drove in harder, groaning with every thrust. Caitlin sobbed through it, bliss and pressure building.

Caitlin cried out, twisting her fist in the blanket. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Harder.”

Kate gave her everything.

She angled her hips, reached under Caitlin’s body to find her clit, rubbed in time with her thrusts. Caitlin shattered—full-body spasms, moans broken open.

Kate fucked her harder through it. Deeper. Her breath fractured. Her body coiled. Kate watched Caitlin crumble beneath her, and for the first time in weeks, something inside Kate surged—powerful, rooted, right.

“You’re so good,” Caitlin whispered through gasps. “You’re so strong. You’re everything.”

Caitlin’s mind was haze and heat. The pressure of Kate’s body behind her made her feel completely surrounded — taken, grounded, cherished. This wasn’t just deeper physically. It was fuller. She felt Kate in every inch of her spine, every muscle flexing against her skin. And even as she moaned, even as her knees shook from the sheer force of it, what she felt most wasn’t pain or fear or even want.

Kate couldn’t stop shaking.

Not from effort—not really—but from the weight of it. The way Caitlin gave herself over so completely. The way her body opened and arched and took Kate in like it was meant to. Like this was always where they were headed.

She drove in again, hips rolling, her own breath ragged from the pressure against her clit, the ache coiling tighter inside her. The vibrator throbbed with every motion, and Kate felt it as if Caitlin were pressing back into her from the inside out—like their pleasure was layered, echoing, infinite.

It was trust. Pure, whole-bodied trust.

Kate pushed forward again, this time slower, deeper. Caitlin gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets.

“You feel that?” Kate murmured, her mouth near Caitlin’s ear, her fingers twirling Caitlin's nipple. “That’s you opening for me." Pinching lightly. "That’s me knowing I can do this right.”

“You are,” Caitlin panted, voice destroyed and breathless. “You’re everything. Right here. Right now. You’re winning.”

And Kate felt it in her bones — the high, the rush, the roaring in her chest. Not just from dominance or control, but from finally stepping into her own skin again. Giving everything. Getting everything.

She curled a hand around Caitlin’s waist, pulled her tighter, and drove forward again.

Each movement was a declaration.

The vibrator pulsed in time with her hips, sending jolts of pleasure up Kate’s spine, turning every thrust into a shared circuit of need. She felt everything—Caitlin’s heat, the slick glide of her body, the tension rising fast and bright inside her own core. The friction, the closeness, the trust—they lit Kate up from the inside, unraveling her even as she held Caitlin steady.

You’re mine. I love you. I’m here. I’m not afraid. I can be the best for you.

The vibrator pressed harder—against her clit, against her resolve—flooding her with sensation until her legs trembled, her vision blurred, and the only thing anchoring her was Caitlin’s body wrapped around her rhythm.

And Caitlin met every thrust with a cry, a push, a silent yes that echoed deeper than anything she could say aloud.

“Harder,” Caitlin gasped, voice barely recognizable. “Please, harder.”

Kate grunted, something wild flaring behind her ribs. She tightened her grip, fingers digging into Caitlin’s hips, and gave her what she asked for — a bruising rhythm, relentless, precise. Not just control. Mastery.

She growled, each word pressed into Caitlin’s skin with her thrusts. “You take me so deep. Like you were made for this.”

Caitlin’s mouth fell open. “I am. I am—Kate, I’m—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Could barely breathe. All she could do was rock back and meet her again and again, slick and wrecked and shaking.

Kate slowed, just a second — dragged her hips in deep, letting Caitlin feel the full length of her, the grind, the pressure, the heat. Caitlin’s whole body shuddered.

“You’re gonna come like this,” Kate murmured, voice hoarse and reverent. “On your knees. With me inside you. Because you trust me.”

Caitlin’s voice broke on a sob. “I do. I trust you. I love you. Don’t stop—please—don’t stop. Please, make me come Katie.”

Kate slammed in one more time, teeth gritted, thighs trembling, the vibrator pulsing so hard it nearly buckled her. Caitlin cried out—sharp, high, desperate—as her whole body curled tight around the wave crashing through her. But Kate didn’t let up. She chased it. They chased it together.

Their rhythm frayed, messy now, fevered. Their moans broke into something raw, reverent. They fell forward, hips still meeting every thrust, shaking with the force of shared release.

Kate leaned over her, mouth at her spine, panting. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, voice wrecked. “I’ve always got you.”

Caitlin came with Kate’s name on her lips and Kate’s hands locked around her hips like a vow.

And then Kate followed—surrendering to the pulse that lit up her core, shaking hard, her orgasm ripping through her with a cry she buried against Caitlin’s back.

They collapsed together—tangled, slick, wrecked, radiant. Not just held, but known.

A quiet beat passed between them, thick with afterglow. Breath slowing. Skin cooling.

Kate exhaled shakily as she pulled out, gentle now, every movement in slo-mo. She unbuckled the strap, slid the vibrator from the harness, turned them off, and pulled Caitlin deep into the present.

Her voice cracked. “Thank you.”

Caitlin turned to face her, flushed and glowing, eyes soft with love and just the hint of a smirk. “Told you I’d get your rhythm back.”

Kate laughed, broken and bright, then leaned in and kissed her slow—like gratitude, like surrender, like yes, you were right Caitlin Clark.

Kate collapsed against her, chest to back, arms wrapping instinctively around Caitlin’s waist like she couldn’t stand to let her go. Her breath was ragged in her ear, warm and trembling. Caitlin’s body still shook in small, uncontrollable pulses — the kind that came not just from an unrelenting wave of pleasure.

Kate pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the side of her neck, holding her tightly through the aftershocks. “I love you,” she whispered, voice frayed and quiet and full. “I love giving you this. I love being with you.”

Caitlin turned, slow and loose-limbed, letting herself be rearranged. Kate helped, cradled her, pulled her onto her side, and then curled around her like a second skin. Their legs tangled. Their breaths synced. Sweat cooled between them.

Caitlin blinked, slow and dazed. Her throat felt thick.

“That was…” Caitlin trailed off, breath still uneven. “Just—different. Like you weren’t just in me. You were with me. Everywhere.”

Kate didn’t speak right away. Her fingers skimmed Caitlin’s hip like she was still anchoring herself. “I needed that,” she said finally. “Not to win. Not to prove I could. Just… to feel you. All of you. Like I belonged there.”

Caitlin’s hand slid over Kate’s chest, fingertips resting where her heart still pounded. “You do.”

Kate’s eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward, forehead to Caitlin’s collarbone, breath catching like it hurt to believe it. And then she stayed there—silent, still—like maybe holding Caitlin was the only thing keeping her steady.

Caitlin could feel the weight of it — the effort, the meaning, the way Kate poured herself into every touch, every thrust, every breath. Not just to feel strong, but to make Caitlin feel wanted, filled, claimed.

And she had. God, she had.

“I’m yours,” Caitlin whispered. “I mean it. You don’t ever have to question that.”

Kate didn’t answer at first. Just kissed her again, reverent and quiet, then pulled the blanket up and around them both.

“Thank you,” Kate whispered again, voice rasped and uneven. “For letting me show you. For letting me want you like that. For letting me take it—need it—without apology.”

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with afterglow. “I needed it too.”

Kate touched her jaw, thumb brushing softly along her cheekbone, coaxing her to meet her gaze. “Yeah?”

“I like giving you that space,” Caitlin murmured, pink blooming at her cheeks. “I like watching you take control. Feeling how much you want it. Want me. You’re... unstoppable when you let yourself go.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was charged. Full of reverence. Full of what neither of them had to explain.

Kate leaned in, forehead to hers. “I love you,” she said again, steadier now. Truer.

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. “I love you.”

And she meant it. Every word. Every pulse of her body still singing with it.

They lay like that for a long time — arms wrapped tight, their love still humming in the space between.

She kissed her slow, deep, reverent.

And for the first time in weeks, Kate felt powerful again.

Like she could lead. Like she could win. Like she could give Caitlin exactly what she needed—and more.

They collapsed in a heap, tangled and breathless, skin slick and trembling.

Kate’s voice cracked. “Thank you.”

Caitlin turned her face into the pillow and murmured, “You’re back.”

And Kate believed her.

—--------------

The apartment was quiet again.

Not empty—just settled. Steeped in something soft and slow.

After the high. After the sweat. After Kate had collapsed on top of her, breathless and grinning, whispering that she was back. That she was enough. That she could give and give and still have something left. Caitlin had kissed her like she believed it. Like she’d never stop believing it.

Now the shower steamed faintly behind a cracked door. The air smelled like clean skin and lavender soap. Caitlin moved through the stillness in an oversized tee, bare legs catching the warm slant of afternoon sun. Her collarbone still glistened faintly—like a secret the light hadn’t let go of yet.

Kate was already gone, off to a film session with the staff. But she’d left a note by the coffee pot, written in that sharp, all-caps scrawl Caitlin pretended not to find adorable:

YOU’RE EVERYTHING. DON’T FORGET.

Next to it sat half a protein bar, the good kind Kate never shared.

Caitlin smiled. Pressed a fingertip to the note like it might hum beneath her touch.

The world outside kept moving. But here, for a moment, she was still. Loved. Full.

Caitlin stared at the note a little longer than she meant to, heart humming, body still loose and aching. It was the good kind of sore. Earned. Like something had finally opened inside her. Like she’d let Kate hold her and hadn’t broken apart. Like maybe she wouldn’t.

Her phone buzzed. Monika: Freshman pairings today. AJ’s yours. You two are meeting at the union at 2. Buy her coffee. And be good. 

Caitlin groaned and let her head fall back against the couch. Her thighs still ached. Her arms were jelly. She wasn’t ready to mentor anyone. She barely knew how to lead herself.

Ten minutes later, she was walking across campus in sweats and a hoodie, sunglasses pulled low and iced coffee in hand.  Her hair was still damp as she stepped out into the late afternoon sun, backpack slung over one shoulder and water bottle clipped to the side. Her knees twinged on the stairs. Her brain still felt like it was recovering from a storm. She slid into a bench just outside the student union, face tilted to the sun.

AJ was already there. Seated like she owned the bench. Hoodie sleeves pushed to the elbows. Cross-legged. Phone in hand. Headphones around her neck.

“You’re late,” AJ said, not looking up.

“You’re early,” Caitlin shot back.

AJ glanced at her. Then gave a little shrug. “You’re Caitlin Clark.”

“Last I checked.”

“They told me I’d be your little. Not sure if that’s a threat or a challenge.”

Caitlin raised a brow, instinctive. Default. The armor came on before she even realized it. “Do you want it to be either?”

A smirk tugged at AJ’s mouth. “I don’t want anything except a good freshman year, and a B1G Ten Championship.”

“Reasonable.”

Caitlin tried to settle her shoulders, which had been tense all week. Maybe all summer. It was strange, sitting like this—out in the open, with a freshman who didn’t worship her or flinch around her or ask for a selfie. Just… spoke.

“You don’t talk like I thought you would,” AJ said.

That caught Caitlin. “What does that mean?”

AJ stretched her legs in front of her, relaxed in a way Caitlin couldn’t remember being at that age. “You know. You're kind of a legend. I figured you’d be—”

“An asshole?”

“I was gonna say... bigger.”

Caitlin laughed despite herself. “I’m tall enough.”

AJ looked at her sideways. “Not what I meant.” Then, softer: “Is it weird, being you?”

Caitlin blinked. The question landed deeper than she expected.

What did it mean to be her? A highlight reel. A hashtag. A jersey selling out in six states. A walking stat line, a leader in a sport that didn’t always feel like it wanted her whole self. Her body still ached faintly from that morning—Kate’s mouth, Kate’s hands, the way they’d fallen apart together. She’d been cracked wide open and put back together by someone who really saw her. And now here she was again, in the sunlight, being seen by someone else. Someone new.

“I just mean…” AJ continued, “people look at you and they see highlights. They see stats. They don’t know you.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. She’s right. Most days, it felt like no one did. Not really. Except Kate. Except maybe McKenna, on a good day. But not the crowds. Not the reporters. Not even her family—not yet. Sometimes she wondered if she even knew herself beyond the numbers and the noise.

AJ didn’t wait for a response. “I’m just trying to figure out who I’m supposed to be learning from. Not the basketball stuff. The other part.”

Caitlin took a breath. Her chest still felt raw, like it had been opened by something holy. “I’m still figuring that out.”

“Okay,” AJ said. Simple. Like that was enough—for now.

They sat in the quiet. The quad buzzed—late summer breeze, the scrape of sneakers, a speaker somewhere blasting something too loud. Caitlin picked at the edge of her coffee cup. Her fingers twitched, like they weren’t used to stillness. AJ kicked a pebble by her foot.

For the first time in weeks, Caitlin didn’t feel like she had to be on. Didn’t feel like she had to perform being a captain, or a girlfriend, or the best. She could just be a girl on a bench with her little, breathing in the tail end of summer. Trying.

Then AJ said, not quite looking at her, “Can I ask something?”

Caitlin tensed, heartbeat kicking up. “Sure.”

“You and Kate,” AJ said. “You’re a thing, right?”

Caitlin’s stomach flipped. “What?”

“I notice stuff,” AJ shrugged. “The way you are with her. The way she is with you. It’s not hard.”

Caitlin didn’t speak. Didn’t move. She felt it in her chest—like being spotted mid-step, caught in a place she wasn’t ready to be seen.

AJ looked at her. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“We’re not public,” Caitlin said quickly, voice tight.

“That because of her or you?”

Caitlin froze. The wind moved gently through the quad. Somewhere, a bike tire clicked on pavement. Then, quieter than she meant to say it, Caitlin answered.

“Me.”

She looked down at her coffee cup, thumb dragging along the lid’s edge. “It’s me.”

Her voice didn’t shake, but something in her face softened—like admitting it made it real.

“You’re kind of intense,” AJ said, almost smiling. “But not in the way I expected.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” AJ shrugged, eyes flicking out across the quad. “I thought you’d come in all alpha. Big speech. Dominant energy. but instead you’re just… figuring it out. Like the rest of us."

That landed. Not in a big, dramatic way. But it sank in.

“Hey,” AJ added after a beat, “for what it’s worth... you don’t have to lead like Kate. Or Jan. Or anyone else. But you do have to lead.”

Caitlin looked over at her. “What if I mess it up?”

“Then you learn,” AJ said, standing. “That’s what the rest of us are doing.”

Caitlin stood too, still quiet.

AJ didn’t say anything else. She just started walking, one headphone back in, iced coffee in hand. After a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder.

“You coming, or do I gotta lead the way?”

Caitlin shook her head, smiling despite herself, and followed.

Caitlin shook her head, smiling despite herself, and followed.

And maybe that was the start. Not of being a perfect leader. But a more authentic one.

Someone worth following.

#wnba#kate martin#caitlin clark#wnba basketball#f/f fanfic#fluff#wnba players#womens basketball#katelin#kate x caitlin#katelinfanwrites#wlw#fanfic#headcanon#smut#wlw smut#uconn wbb#wbb#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#wnba draft#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#paige bueckers#paige x azzi#azzi fudd#paige buckets#iowa women’s basketball#wlw post#wlw nsft

[moonjellysfeast]

NSFW Alphabet - Arthur

A- aftercare

He doesn't believe he deserves aftercare but he thrives with it. He does sub drop pretty explicitly but not as bad as Hanna. He is competent and can clean and collect himself but he's so good he deserves to be taken care of. He isn't the best at giving aftercare but he will try his best and he's so cute trying to reciprocate your care.

B-body part

His favorite body parts of yours are tied between your eyes and your hands, he loves the feeling of your palms on him, he can spend hours just sitting running his fingers over your palms. He likes seeing hand marks on his body, bruises on his wrists and throat, red marks from where you hit him, he regularly asks Hanna to heal him less so he can still see your handprints on him. He also could stare at your eyes for days on end, the way he feels when your eyes land on him is better than anything he's felt before. If you cover him in handprints and then go over every mark with him, he'd cum untouched at least twice. His own favorite body part is probably his ass or his collar bone. He doesn't really like himself much but he knows his ass is a draw of his and he thinks his collar bone looks good, especially with your hands resting on it when you're between choking him.

C- cum

He ideally wants you to cum in his mouth, he doesn't care a lot but if he gets to choose, he's asking to have your cum in his mouth every time.

D-dirty secret

He doesn't want to admit it but he adores the filth of fucking in the barn, when you keep him there he stays very horny. He likes the feeling of being kept as entertainment for you and he feels more animalistic when he's chained up nude in a bed of soft wood shavings and grass, which he really enjoys.

E-experience

His only possible experience is in very bad circumstances, he's tried to sell his body and he may have been assaulted before so he genuinely doesn't know anything about healthy sex through lived experience. He is ecstatic to be in a relationship he consents to, though he doesn't really realize that's why he likes it so much.

F-favorite position

He favors doggy and mating press. When he is in doggy he doesn't try to hold himself up at all, even in the barn, he presses his face down into the floor to arch himself even further. He likes mating press because you watch him while you breed him, even if he won't take the opportunity to look at you.

G-goofy

He can be very goofy, though his only real humor is slapstick. He doesn't mind giggling at himself if he falls out of place or smacks into something, he can't tell jokes in or out of sex so he's as goofy as he can be and as much as you allow him.

H-hair

He's fuzzy all over, he doesn't have much chest hair but he has the cutest dark happy trail. He has thicker leg hair too, and almost no back hair. But he's definitely an otter, with how thin he is and his cute fuzz.

I-intimacy

He's scared to be intimate at first, but he likes intimate sex more than seems possible. If you set up a romantic night and be sweet to him during sex, he will unravel beautifully and might become a proper yandere. It's the only way to make him possessive of you.

J-jack off

He wouldn't dare experience pleasure without your approval. However, he will absentmindedly grind on the floor or on chairs if he's distracted by something and horny. 

K-kink

He has big breeding and animalistic kinks. It's why I made the monsterfucking fic, to him, sex should be him being in heat and getting bred by something stronger than him. He's also a major masochist, you bullying him and especially a monster or creature version of you scratching and biting him as you breed him? That's the sexiest idea he can think of.

L-location

He doesn't care about location, not because he has no shame but because he feels constant shame, the only time he isn't ashamed of himself is when he follows your orders. Tell him to strip and finger himself on the table in a restaurant and he will do it with almost no fight. He prefers doing it on the ground rather a=than on any furniture, though.

M-motivation

His quickest turn on is your smirk. That's it, his biggest 'motive' is you smirking

N-no

He doesn't actually have genuine limits, he'd be happy to let you fuck him no matter what. Make him fuck someone else, topping or bottoming, he'll gladly do it. He does enjoy bondage and topping someone the least out of most things.

O-oral

He prefers to give and he's damn good at it. He does have a gag reflex but all it ends up doing is making him cry faster.

P-pace

He prefers a slower pace but not by much, really he's more strongly inclined to roughness but even then, he's just happy to be used.

Q-quicky

Professional at quickies, he doesn't feel like he needs to cum during sex and he wants to be used, so he's more than ready to be bent over for a quick pounding no matter the situation.

R-risk

He doesn't inherently like risk but really it's more so that he doesn't focus on the risk factor during sex. He's more focused on cock and being a good toy for you.

S-stamina

Shocking stamina, maybe it's that he's used to the feeling of being beaten for hours, maybe it's because he's had to push through so much trauma, he can ride you all day and only genuinely need a few short naps.

T-toys

He doesn't actively use toys... Do torture devices count as toys? Either way, attach some to him and let him squirm for a while, it'll be entertaining.

U-unfair

He cannot tease intentionally, the closest he gets to teasing is not knowing how damn attractive he looks. Especially if you get him all dressed up and take him to a party, he's so pretty all dolled up trying not to fuck anything up and clinging to you.

V-volume

He is Loud. Screams and whines so so loudly, worlds most vocal man, you have to choke him to shut him up and even then he's still making pretty loud choking noises.

W-wild

I realized recently that Arthur is so self indulgent that his main love language is physical affection, he is the only one of my characters so obviously built to match my touch starved-ness. He is my ideal man, sad n pathetic and so so cuddly. He has also always been paired with Hanna and a cult follower. He is built to fall for cults. The most fun fact abt him in my mind is that he is loyal to the first thing that asks for his loyalty and the only way to take him from that is to convince him you care more about him. He can be in a happy healthy relationship and you can come along and directly say you wanna abuse him, if you convince him you love him more than his healthy partner, he will follow you without a second thought.

X-x-ray

He's pretty average, probably a little over 5.5 inches hard. His dick is pretty thin and flushes really easily, his tip goes bright red as soon as he's hard. He has a little mole on his pelvis like a beauty mark, it's super cute.

Y-yearning

He usually only gets horny for you when you beat him or taunt him. However, he should absolutely be trained until he's always horny and he constantly just sits waiting for you and softly grinding on whatever he's sitting on. 

Z-zzz

He passes out immediately if not during sex, if you do multiple rounds you better enjoy somno cuz he's not staying awake the whole time. Unless you demand he stay up, he can but it takes a toll eventually.

[gunilslaugh]

Chapter 5: The Truth Unfolds

Part of my To All The Boys I've Loved Before Series

WC:~1.4k

“Jooyeon! Care to explain why you told Gunil I was dating Jiseok back in highschool!” You shouted upon entering your house. 

Upstairs in your brother’s room Jooyeon feels his blood run cold. He feels hyper aware of the sounds of your footsteps. Hearing you head up the stairs. His head turns to look at the window in your brother’s room. 

“What’s with that look?” Jiseok questioned. It feels like deja vu especially when Jooyeon rushes over to the window, wasting no time in opening it. He begins to make his escape. “Hey! Hey! No!” Jiseok is quick to get up, along with brother. Both of them hurriedly making their way to Jooyeon and restraining him from jumping out of the window. 

“You can’t jump out of the window!” Your brother told Jooyeon, making the effort to pull him away from the window, whilst Jiseok closes it. 

“You don’t want to see me so bad that you’d rather jump out the window?” You had entered the room. Jooyeon makes the mistake of looking at you. He can’t hold eye contact with you long, quickly averting his gaze.

“I-” He started, but his response fell short. Only a sigh leaves him. “You can let go now,” he tells your brother. Your brother loosens the grip he had on Jooyeon, letting him go. 

“So I happened to run into Gunil by chance and he happened to disclose some interesting information to me. That back then you told him I was dating Jiseok. Care to explain?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest and arching a brow. 

“No, n-not really.” He looked down at his feet.

“He did what?” Jiseok joined the conversation. Looking at you then shifting his eyes to Jooyeon. 

“He told Gunil that you and I were dating,” you reiterated. “You know I did think it was strange that he brought up Gunil earlier, but now I guess I know why. He was worried about his little lie getting out.”

Jooyeon is yet to look up from his feet. It seems like karma has finally caught up to him. His lie from all those years ago is back to bite him, but he knows that he can’t remain silent. He takes a shaky breath and lifts his head up. 

“Yes, I lied to Gunil back then about you dating Jiseok,” he admits to his fault. 

“Why would you do that? Y-you knew that I liked him.” The hurt in your voice stabs Jooyeon like a knife. His stupid teenage brain back then didn’t think about the hurt his lie could cause you. He just didn’t want to watch the girl he liked get with another guy. 

“I think you two should finish this conversation in your room,” your brother cuts in. Jiseok almost wants to protest. Since your brother informed him and Jooyeon of the fact that you had feelings for the both of them. At least you did in the past. He feels reluctant to think of you speaking to Jooyeon alone. Especially since anyone could probably read what direction the conversation was heading. Abelite the feeling of wanting to be in the same room as you, so that he knows he’s not losing you to Jooyeon. Jiseok knows that this is a conversation for you and Jooyeon to have. Because he wasn’t the one who was hurt by the lie. It was you. 

“Your brother’s right. This isn’t our business,” Jiseok said. 

“His lie involved you too,” you say. 

The only thing that bothers me about a lie that we’re dating is that that’s it. It’s a lie. I want it to be true. Jiseok was so close to saying those words, but he knew now was not the time, so instead he swallowed those words back and says, “I’m not the one who was hurt by it.” You don’t know how to describe the look he gave you. There was care in his eyes. His face had some level of understanding, sympathy. “This is between you and him.” 

Jiseok feels scared as he watches you leave with Jooyeon, heading to your room. He’s scared that somehow the next time your bedroom door opens you and Jooyeon will be a couple.

“I’m not gonna lose her again right?” Jiseok asked your brother once the sound of your bedroom door shutting was heard. 

“If you don’t watch her get together with another guy that’s not you, you’ll have to tell her how you feel.” Your brother pats his shoulder in a comforting manner. 

The tension in your room is thick. Jooyeon sits tentatively on the edge of your bed. He stares at his lap. He’s scared to face you.  While you sit back against the headboard. A comforting pillow in your lap. That your arms give a squeeze. 

“Why did you do that?” you asked. Your voice is a bit cold, but it’s also layered with hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. You can tell he’s being sincere, his face is full of regret.  

“Thank you, but that’s not why. Tell me why,” you said. Jooyeon looks up from his lap. 

With a deep inhale he begins to speak. “Gunil told me that he was interested in you.” He pauses briefly. “So I lied and told him that you were dating Jiseok.” He pauses again. “Because…I liked you too,” he confesses. 

“You what?” Your tone became much softer. His words felt like a whiplash. 

“I liked you too and because I liked you I didn’t want to watch you get together with someone else, so I lied about you dating Jiseok. I really am sorry I didn’t think about how it could hurt you,” he apologized once more. You were having trouble wrapping your head around the thought of Jooyeon liking you back then. 

“Can you say something?” he says. You hadn’t realized how long you’ve been silent. Trying to absorb the information he revealed. 

“Sorry, I’m just trying to process. You liked me back in highschool?” you had to double check. 

“I’ve liked you since highschool actually,” he confessed. You’re stunned. You freeze. Jooyeon has liked you since highschool? During all those years of you two bickering he’s like you the entire time? Way before the two of you got lost in the woods. 

“You’ve liked me this entire time and you’ve never said anything?” you finally speak. 

“First you liked Gunil. Then Jungsu came around. I actually thought about confessing the summer before college started, but by then we had been frenemies for so long and I was sure you didn’t like me back, so I decided to keep liking you silently. Then Seungmin came and stole your heart for a while. Next you were gushing about your cute neighbor, baking him cookies. As much as I liked you I thought I never had a chance with you. That I would never be one of the guys you liked. Then we got lost in the woods and for the first time I had hope. Maybe I could be the one you liked, but I was a coward. I had been silent about my feelings for you for so long that I didn’t know how to act upon them. When I got your letter I was actually really happy. ‘She actually likes back.’ It felt unreal. It was too good to be true though because I wasn’t the only one who received a love letter from you. My lie found its way back to me.” he finishes. 

“I really wish we could just talk about what happened in the woods, but I feel like I can’t talk about that without telling you the reason why I went on that trip in the first place,” you say. Jooyeon already knows what is coming because of the conversation he had with your brother earlier, but he appreciates being able to hear it directly from you.

“Which is?” He encouraged you to tell him. 

“I only went on that trip because I wanted to avoid Jiseok…” you pause. “Because I realized that I liked him.” There it is. The main knot in your heart. Where your feelings for Jiseok get tangled with your feelings for Jooyeon. 

“You like him?” Jooyeon braces himself for rejection. You didn’t really like him, you just misunderstood your own feelings and thought that you did. That is what he thinks you’re about to tell him.

“I like you both,” you answered. A part of Jooyeon feels relieved that you didn’t reject him. Another part of him feels scared because he doesn’t know who you’ll pick. Though you don’t know who you’ll pick either. The only thing you know is that you need to talk to Jiseok.

<- Prev Next ->

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism @bee-the-loser

[reginaldubel]

bought this banana at the supermarker @sleep-nurse

[psilliguykai]

Hey Jashers! So. I’ve recently seen a lot of people expressing how they feel the CJ community has been getting kinda toxic lately. It’s honestly really disheartening to see this happening, especially as this community and Chonny’s music/characters mean a lot to me. I guess this is all to say: if you feel the CJ community is getting toxic, let’s try to actually fix it. And no this doesn’t mean “make 10000 callout posts”. The Jash himself said both on Twitter/X and on the CJFS he’d rather all this (recent incident[s?]) be essentially acknowledged and dropped. If you want to keep this fandom alive and healthy (which I feel for the most part it already is! CJ is active in the discord server and is comfortable engaging with his fans and I think that alone is a really positive sign. Plus we have some incredible creativity and support !) do your best to contribute to the positivity and respectful, good content that we DO for the most part produce. You can make it clear that creeps, those looking to disrespect boundaries/privacy, etc. aren’t welcome here, but please try to do so effectively and only as needed. I know it’s kinda trite, but these people feed off attention and giving them more of it (regardless of whether it’s positive or negative) is only going to worsen the situation. In addition, if you can, please try to adopt the mindset that while flawed, this is an ultimately pretty good and respectful community. The more you express that it’s toxic and disgusting, the more it’s gonna live up to that.

[If you feel the need to distance yourself that’s totally fine and understandable too, just please do it for yourself and not as like. a statement I guess?? Idk I honestly haven’t seen anyone doing this I just thought it could be good to address]

TLDR: This community means a lot to me and I really desperately don’t want to watch it go to shit. Please for the love of whatever, let the toxicity die attention-less in the shade and just . be respectful. foster the actually positive parts of this fandom so they can prosper.

[PS: genuinely none of this is actually directed at anyone!! More just addressing a recent trend I’ve seen I guess??? Anyways uh yeah. Stay cool and stay hyped for chaos week I suppose :]]

[varjopeura]

.

[loquaciousquark]

I don't believe in making major edits to stuff I've already posted publicly, but every now and then when I reread my own fic I am sorely tempted.

[serufu]

I had an insane day so instead of talking about that I'm gonna juke left and post some of the pictures of my 3 days so far in the Ice Fog up here in the mountains this week lol, I hate driving in it but it's so beautiful

Bonus far away shots from the foothill plains too!

[screampied]

❛ NEVER WANNA LOSE ME. ❜ t. fushiguro

☆ sum. for the hell of it, you let your roommate toji hit just once and he’s never been the same. what starts as a usual lazy smoke sesh turns into him wanting more than just to get high—he wants you.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, college au, toji & reader are in early twenties, vırgin toji, pússy drunk toji, mentions of pre-substance consumption, impact play, fıngering, squırting, praise, he finishes quick, dry humping, ōral (f! receiving), size kink, talking him through it, spıt.

he’s never had a girl like you in his life.

with toji—he doesn’t do women. well he does, but not in that literal sense. he puts up a front whenever around his boys. little do they know he doesn’t know the first thing about a woman. he has little to no game, he’s a fake. a loser. but all of that changes until he meets you. you’re his roommate and the only person he can really stand. to toji, you were someone he could ramble to, someone to get high with and make fun of cheesy romcoms together. . like now.

“you always insist we watch this shit,” he huffs, leaned back against the couch. he’s got his legs raised over the sofa as he bores his stoic eyes into the screen. squinting at the cheesy subtitles on display, he takes another puff. “dunno why y’er so scared of watchin’ alien. now that’s a movie.”

“toji that’s boring,” you murmur, snuggling up close to him. he never really minded, it was always like this. he’s got a broad arm thrown over the back edge of the sofa as you’re leaned up against him. the both of you were blitzed, feeling a wave of euphoria surge through the both of you. the closer you got to him, the more you smelled him. god, that cologne—he practically pours it all over his body and it’s always so strong. toji could feel your head rubbing up against his wrinkled tank top before he glances down at you. “. . . your taste in movies suck.”

as you trail off your words, it’s a deadly awkward pause between the two of you as he just stares deep into your eyes. you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden, why he’s just got that blank expression. but toji cups your chin, using a bare thumb to swipe against the inner crevice of your mouth. “tch. messy girl.”

oh.

you blink thrice once his thumb swiftly moves against the corner of your lip. it’s a subtle moment that’s seems way more intimate than it should of.

the dorm room grows substantially quiet and the only sounds that could be heard were the main characters of the movies talking in the background.

you never leave your locked gaze on toji and he gently rubs a finger near your lip. “you had leftover ice cream on your lip,” he utters, and you see his eyes flicker toward your mouth. so pretty, he thinks to himself. the way they curve and twist as you switch facial expressions. he’s sitting up now, taking in your face and could almost feel you lean into his touch. almost. a lump gets caught in the throat before he clears his throat, glancing away. “i— uh, sorry. that was stupid.”

you look at toji and his body language is different from how it usually was. he’s got a downcast pout, slouching back against the leather made sofa. cute, he’s blushing. you notice the way both temples of his cheeks burn and heat up and you raise a brow, scooting up close toward him. “it wasn’t stupid,” you utter, grabbing the remote and turning it on mute. with his burly arms crossed, he slowly stares back at you with a perplexed look. “toji. do you wanna kiss me?”

“what?” he blurts out a bit louder than he intended. could you read his mind?

he felt himself get hotter and not just his cheeks.

toji looks into your eyes, biting his tongue once he realizes you probably caught him staring at your glossy plump lips. he did want to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you so bad—he just didn’t know how to initiate, he didn’t want to just flat out kiss you or anything. darkened brows of his tweak into a relaxed furrow before he sighs. “y- yeah,” he gruffly murmurs, the steady pulses of his heartbeat growing faster.

“you could have said so,” you tease, leaning up close and wrapping your arms around him. he’s glancing at you, both of you had half-lidded eyes, pupils dilating full of sparkles and lust. toji awkwardly sets his hands aside once you straddle yourself on his lap. the thin fabric of his basketball shorts tickle against the undersides of your thighs before you plop down.

it’s so quiet, you scrape a thumb behind his soft undercut before leaning up close.

toji’s mind was going crazy. he was about to kiss you. he was about to finally kiss you. but there was just one problem.

he didn’t know how.

just as your lips were on the brink of planting themselves onto his, he whispers against you.

“w- wait.”

you pause, glancing at him. “hm?”

“i— um,” he looks away, that same reddened tint painting over his face once more. it’s so cute, out of the few years on campus you’ve grown to know this guy, you don’t think you’ve seen him in such a state. an embarrassed state. jade green eyes flicker everywhere around the room but towards you and he sighs. “i’ve never . . kissed before.”

a smile marinates against your features as you stroke a thumb near the scar that runs down the right side of his lips. “oh,” you hum, and he almost glares at you but remembers you’re literally sitting on his lap. toji holds back a groan, the addicting friction of your body hovering over him makes him start to imagine lewd things. he couldn’t help it, and the taunting stare you gave him only made things worse. “that’s okay, just follow my lead,” and the two of you lock eyes again. toji gives you a subtle nod before feeling you drag his hands toward your hips. “just hold my hips ‘n close your eyes, it’s okay.”

he doesn’t know if it’s because of the fact that he’s stoned out of his mind but you’re just so pretty.

you were feeling the mild after effects too, your eyelids felt heavy the further you leaned into him. toji’s big open palms cling onto your waist as you finally close the distance, pressing your lips onto his.

from first contact, he tastes sweet.

his lashes flutter close as he lets you control, gently moving your tongue against his. it was cute how awkward he was, toji didn’t know what to do. you heard him groan the moment you playfully suck against his tongue. every few seconds, he’d hear the sounds wet smacking coming from each mouth—how a bit of saliva would start to dribble down the side of his lips.

fuck, he tilts his head back, parting his uneven lips a bit further for you.

toji tastes minty, his hands find themselves roaming lower down your body as you teasingly grind more against him. he grunts, feeling you continuously meet against his bricked up friend.

he was hard—you knew that. it was poking at you underneath your shorts. a smile stretches on your lips as you deepen the hot steamy kiss, hearing the faint sounds of teeth clashing. he’s so hot, literally and physically. toji feels like he was sweating bullets when he really wasn’t.

he’s had countless dreams of this, of you.

the two of you would always get high together and chill, binging countless movies until the two of you knocked out. but now, it was different. you were making out with each other. it took you by surprise that he’s never kissed anyone—you sort of thought otherwise, especially with how he acts around other girls. of course, that’s all you really see. but behind closed doors, perhaps your roommate’s more different than you thought.

the passionate kiss accelerates further the moment you feel toji’s big hands creep near your ass. his fingers tug near the protected fabric of your shorts, desperate for them to come off. your repetitive swaying against his lap was damn near torture. he groans, finally pulling away from your lips to watch those glossy strings depart from each mouth.

“fuck,” he grunts hoarsely, his eyes darting back toward your sheeny lips. he’s already had a taste of you and he wanted more.

toji holds you firmly in place before leaning into the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss near your collarbone. “i- i want more,” he grouses, the tint in his shorts only growing larger. you felt it, all of it. with the way your hips playfully rubbed against the loose clothing — you were only fueling the fire. toji’s voice got a bit lower with its pitch and it was attractive with how needy was.

like he was desperately craving for this moment to happen.

he really was though.

you could see the look in his eyes - he’s hungry.

call it a little crush or whatever but he’s had his eyes on you for a while. toji was horrible whenever it came to feelings, terrible.

he didn’t think much of it, the two of you were just roommates who’d occasionally get blitzed together every blue moon. unless it was something else.

“it’s okay,” your breath hitch as you feel his soft lips assault near your neck.

he was gentle, coating invisible markings that stick against your skin like glue. your head slowly leans back as he starts to softly suck against your skin, keen edges of teeth tenderly tickling against your exposed flesh.

you were so sweet, it just wasn’t fair.

toji’s hands remain attached to your hips before he makes you lie back. you land backward with a little cute oof, glancing up at him as your back lightly hits against the cushioned furniture. “someone’s getting eager.”

“s- shut up,” he kisses his teeth, taking a good view at your body. so pretty, two words that he’s gonna forever keep repeating to describe you. toji couldn’t believe its taken him this long to get to this point.

truth be told, he was pretty shy. but now that you’re all sprawled and laid back, something ignited in him. he slowly spreads your legs with one hand, using a thumb to tug against the flimsy string of your shorts. you watch him intently, growing quiet — the room only fills up with noises of his soft feral pants. he peeps the little anklet that wraps around your ankle before he starts to pull off your shorts. “m- may i?”

“go ‘head.” you murmur, smiling at how he stops untying your shorts just to hear your permission.

your sweet words telling him to go forward, it’s all he needed to continue. callused fingertips pull down your shorts all the way until he’s met with your laced panties. god, he’s feeling a lump get caught in his throat. the way your panties stick against your thighs, how gorgeous the lace looked decorating against your skin, he couldn’t stop staring. .

toji inches his head down, going between your thighs. his hair - it was unkempt, he outgrew his hair within these past few weeks. it was cute, a few black strands of his reach near his shoulders.

he was really slow,

he’s pacing himself because he wants to savor this moment and your beauty. but to be honest, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. toji brings a awkward kiss toward the center part of your panties, watching you shudder. “mhm,” a low gruff comes out of him before he looks up at you. “was that good?”

“y- yeah, toji,” you swallow thickly, a hand of your own finding its way into his tangled sable tresses. he looks at you, finding your combing fingers digging through his scalp somewhat relaxing. he’s ogling at you like he’s waiting for you to say something else and you giggle. “right, you probably haven’t eaten a girl out either.”

“shut up,” he grimaces, bathing in his own cringe.

it’s almost adorable. it was adorable. he leans into your touch, staring at your slick dribbling pussy. he’s so close, you could almost peep his mouth watering. “just . . tell me what else ‘ta do, please.”

your face softens at his desperation. toji’s bottom lip pokes out a bit and you inhale, ruffling his hair a bit.

“okay, just start slow. ‘s no rush. start near my thighs ‘n give it a few kisses” and right at your words, he begins to give your thighs sweet individual kisses. he’s fast, you almost let off a moan before sitting up. “good, good, like that,” and his eyelashes close, making sure to give everywhere—even the secret secluded crevices of your thighs all types of attention. your skin was lukewarm, and each time it goes against his skin he only wants more. he hears your body fall back, the sofa screeching a wail from the sudden weight. “n- now um, kiss around here.”

toji pauses, watching as you spread yourself open for him with two fingers. with enticed driven eyes, he watches as you play with yourself to show him what to do next. your finger points near a soft pulsing area—your vulva, you wanted him to kiss right there. it’s shiny, drooling down with your own slick and he only imagined what it tasted like.

what you tasted like.

he doesn’t say anything—instead, he lets his mouth do the talking.

toji’s watched more than enough vulgar videos on pussy eating to know which exact methods to do.

but still, this was real life and nothing was exaggerated. your sweet whimpers and moans were very much real. he starts by kissing around and near your vulva - slow sloppy kisses that make your thighs twitch and your toes curl. he then begins to stimulate your clit with his tongue, swirling it around gently and you moan.

“fuuuck. . jus like that toji,” you breathe, digging your teeth into your lip.

he was already a quick learner, despite having no experience with practically anything.

with one trembling finger, you lift up his chin and he leans into your touch once more. “eyes up here baby,”

‘. . baby,’

his dick immediately twitches from that simple pet name. viridescent eyes of pure emerald stare into yours before you push him just a bit closer into your soddened cunt. “flatten out your tongue a bit. ‘s okay to spit on it a little.”

his ears perk up a bit at your words. “spit on it?”

“yeah,” you run a few more fingers in his hair, delving them into his soft scalp. “make it wet.”

“fine,” toji mumbles, and as his tongue’s moving upwards against your slobbering entrance. he gathers a decent wad of saliva before he spits right on your pussy. a slick ‘ptui’ sound slithers from his lips once he does so—you’re already wet but doing so, it gets you even wetter. a bit of cobwebby lustrous strands cling onto his lips as he watches his mess trickle down onto your folds. he groans, watching the cute pulse happen right between your legs.

so sloppy,

he adores the sloshing squelches your pussy makes at the simple gesture. toji’s never tasted anything so sweet before. “ugh, good. like that,” you moan. as you’re praising him, you then start to feel the quiver in your legs quicken. toji stretches his long tongue even further inside of you—pointing his tongue in a certain direction as his head leisurely sways itself side to side. as you’re telling him exactly how to eat you out, he starts to suck. you whine, feeling his pursing lips clamp around your twitching muscle. it’s so good,

his slurps were so nasty and he groans from your noises alone. as he’s eating you out—he can’t help but jerk his hips into the sofa, getting off to your pleasure. panting, you drag his head up by the hair so he could look at you again. “ ‘s okay, toji. y- you can use a finger or two also.”

“ ‘kay,” he grumps, and he feels your eyes boring into him. specially, you were mainly fixating on his hands. his veiny rough looking hands. you found yourself staring at toji’s hands a lot. they were so big, so wide, thick fat fingers. .

maybe you thought about having them wrapped around your neck, shoved down your throat, buried deep inside your-

your short fantasm and lewd thoughts get cut off the second he sinks a single digit inside—his middle finger. you whimper, slumping back against the sofa as his tongue still flicks against your cunt.

“fuuuck,” you chew on your words, your candied whines only grow more elongated as he seeps deeper inside of you. you take his finger in freely, it’s a perfect fit. with a brief ‘pop’ he’s inside and he feels you trying to clamp ‘n squeeze around his finger. toji’s kissing against your cunt again, shaping his crooked lips into ‘o’ before nibbling near your clit. “oh my goddd.” you gasp, feeling the pressure amongst you increase. his tongue was warm—but with the mixture of his finger, you started to feel your thigh haphazardly bounce. he was still lacking in some areas but you didn’t mind teaching him how to improve.

slowly, he brings another finger inside and now your cunt’s trying to squeeze down two of him. your brows curl up in rapture whilst his tongue happily roams all around you. he’s lapping up his saliva, slurping yours, and spitting right back on it all over again.

“so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your damp folds, causing vibrations just from his mouth. hot pants of breath aerate against your skin. you were getting close, your body started to get more and more unsteady. as your back arches, you yank on his hair a bit. “ow,” he looks up at you with a snarl, but he has a sheepish grin. with toji’s thick twin fingers plummeting in and out of you, he bites down near the edge of your pulled to the side panties. “am i doin’ good, princess?”

“y- yeah, ‘m gonna cum,” you whimper in a shaky tone, swiftly dragging his head back and forth.

toji’s plump glossed lips smear all around your cunt and you moan. he’s so messy and his chin being smothered with your slick. it’s running down, and he’s quite literally drowning in pussy.

your pussy.

the points of his ears twitch at your words though once he comes to the sheer realization—you were about to finish. as you’re getting closer, your grip against his hair tightens. “suck harder toji, ‘s okay. use your tongue, baby.”

with open ears and a open mouth, he listens, closing his eyes once more as his swollen lips latch around your entrance. you bite your lip, feeling his scar brush up against your cunt and it tickles.

so soaked, his fingers continue to insert in and out of you and you’re a nothing but a whiny mess.

your moans bounce through the thin walls of the spacey dorm before he kisses your clit. “make a mess on my mouth,” he almost pleads, a slight tremor in his voice. toji’s so into it that he doesn’t he notice he’s still humping the sofa. he’s humping the pillow propped directly underneath him to be exact. sloppy feral thrusts—his boner was almost painful and he needed more. he felt embarrassed, getting off to your pleasure. your sounds only made him grind harder though, and he groans once you’re literally tugging his head back and forth against you. “c’mon, give it pretty.”

his hoarse voice had you drenched even more, you feel the sharp pang of nirvana jolt through every artery and vessel stored inside your legs before it happens. you came, you’re teetering against his face as your hips buck into his mouth. he’s met with a sweet taste in his mouth.

a taste from you.

it lingers on his tongue as he merrily laps it up, drinking you until you’re all clean according to his mouth. your eyes were murky and doe eyed—you were holding in a breath you didn��t even know you were keeping in. as your chest deflates, you let off a loud ear shrilling climax and toji snickers. so cute, you were a mess. he was an ever bigger mess since his jaw was rightfully locked and sore, precious slick smoothly cascading down his smooth chin like it was a stream.

“fuck,” you huff out, wisping a few crumped fingers through his hair. your hold on his thin strands lessen as you lean back completely dumbfounded.

“did i do good?” toji utters in a raspy tone, lapping a few remnants of your honeyed juices near your outer folds. he slides his fingers out of you only to lick them clean, right before your very eyes.

panting, you nod. “yeah, y- yeah, you did good,” and you watch as shifts, closing the gap between you both. toji sits up from between your legs, and he starts the kiss this time.

your hooded eyes collapse for a moment, closing before you return the sloppy kiss. you moan, relishing at the obscene taste of yourself that now lives on his tongue. it’s sweet, your tongue curls its way around his before he sneaks a hand down between your thighs. you whimper in his mouth, feeling his broad hand give your cunt a big squeeze. you twitched right in his palm and he groans. your noises only made him want you ten times more.

with loud smacks of lips smacking against each other, you make your way on top of toji again. he’s looking at you—panting just like you were. his arched brows compress together as he grabs your hips in place. “you’re so hot,” he exhales, immediately regretting saying that out loud. he sees the slight bashful expression form on your face before you pull on his grey shorts. “y- y’er gonna ride me?”

“yeah,” you mutter, playing with the hem of his boxers. your thumb glissades against it, so soft. it sticks out above his shorts that were merely halfway on. “can i?”

toji nods. “uh huh,” and the fucking boner he had.

you felt it earlier but you knew he was suffering. each second you spent on his lap, the worse it became. it was up until you successfully removed his shorts and you started to grind your hips against his hardened bulge. “s- shit,” he curses, his head immediately throwing itself back. you’re playing with him—swaying up and down his procreated shaft. toji clenched his jaw, a hand of his squeezing the right cheek of your ass. “fuck, ‘s not fair. y’ said you were gonna ride me.”

“i am riding you, toji,” you hum, still a bit shaken up from your most recent orgasmic release. toji narrows his eyes at you and you toss your arms over his shoulders. “see?”

“tch. y’er bein’ unfair, princess.” he scowls at you.

toji’s got your hips in his hands as he’s lazily sat back. his hair was even more ruffled and messed up from your hands yanking and pulling on it. a few black strands run down his almond shaped eyes, shielding his vision a bit. as you proceed to move and jitter your hips around him, you then feel a sudden damp spot.

toji freezes - you freeze.

right near the poking center part of his boxers, it’s a spot where his boner lies that’s dampening up the piece of clothing rather quickly.

with furrowed brow, you glance down—pausing your jerking movements before eyeing toji. “toji. did you just . . . cum?”

suddenly, he grows mute, fuck.

he did—you figured he was sensitive but you didn’t think it was this much. his lips twitch and he’s trying to suppress a moan, it’s adorable. toji wasn’t so used to such contact, he thought he’d last a maybe one round or two, but he wasn’t even inside yet.

his jaw tightens and you spot his veins pulsing out through his skin. you stare at the now grey wet patch that sticks onto his half on boxers.

“oh, toji,” you softly smile, feeling him abruptly bury his face into your neck. he’s still groaning. you hold him, feeling him shiver a bit at your touch—you weren’t used to seeing this side to him, ever. “it’s okay,” you coo, and he’s practically whimpering into your neck. his gruff voice made you pulse and it only got louder. “it happens,” and you feel the stickiness start to bedaub against your fully exposed clit. with a timid expression, you tug in the hem of his boxers. “do you still wanna-”

“please,” he finally speaks again, his voice cracking.

toji’s eyes meets yours again and he’s just longing to feel you from the inside. despite his pussy drunken state, he was so desperate. your teasing only made him ten times more feral. cringing at his own self, his eye twitches. clearing his throat, he helps you pull down his boxers. “eh, i mean yeah. ride me.”

you block your tongue down your throat to refrain from giggling before his cock finally springs out.

it’s thick with a bunch of girth to support it. you can’t help but openly gawk a bit. you figured he’d be a packer but damn. you could literally equate his shaft to the size of a beer can. multiple veins ran down the sides and his base was even fatter than his actual size entirely—not to mention, it’s so pretty.

toji’s angry mushroom tip was glistening with sweltering fresh cum. he’s made quite the mess from that you could see already. he’s got a pink tip with an even more pink cockhead.

his heavy base, it’s swollen and had a tannish pigment color his entire dick. you lick your lips, preparing to align yourself and he grunts.

“s- slow baby,” he murmurs, gently burying his fingertips into both sides of your hips. you give him a nod, leaning up close to his face. you could hear the crack in his voice again before a husky groan rip out his throat. you’re so close to his face that you can’t help but pepper a few kisses near his crooked uneven lips. “fuck, fuck me.

as you’re lowering yourself down on his cock, you let off a moan - and so does he.

toji’s eyelids grow more heavy as he feels himself disappearing into your welcoming sloppy cunt. as toji’s barreling his fat dick inside, he squeezes your ass, feeling your walls swallow and suck him in entirely.

you were so soaked—so soaked, clamping down on him effortlessly and you were barely even moving. toji groans, finding his teeth tucking their ways into the left part of your neck as he holds you close.

“my god,” he hisses, continuing to bury his weighty cock into your slippery cunt.

you were so loud, especially right between your legs. every few seconds you’d be filling the room with wet squelches, pops and pops of pleasurable whines coming straight from your sweet cunt. it’s a feeling he’s never felt.

this felt a lot better than pathetically stroking himself off with the help of some off brand lotion as a substitute. he cringes at the thought because he was finally feeling the real thing. “fuck, ‘s fuckin’ warm, princess. you feel so good inside.”

“yeah?” you pant, and you’re almost all the way in before you grind your hips just a bit forward.

toji’s so thickly built that it takes your body a few seconds to acclimatize. you could feel the bulky tip of his cock extend straight through your spongey walls and it felt so good.

too good.

you could almost drool, that’s how good it felt—

he had staggering jaw-dropping inches that easily stretched you out like your cunt was simply elastic. it had you yearning for more. you lick near his chin where a few dripping droplets of slick run down before you kiss the curvature of his perfectly chiseled jaw. “ ‘m gonna start movin’ okay, toji?”

“okay.” he intakes a single breath, tracing the heart shaped parts of your ass with his fingers.

raspy pants bellow out from his vocal cords in such a rough raw way before he hears the squish.

your ass plops down on his lap and your hips start to create haste. toji grinds his teeth together the minute you start to rut further into him—his head slowly falling back. his eyes were barely open and yet he’s still finding the strength to look at you, look at your pretty face as you’re fucking him stupid.

his mouth slowly opens but no words come out. instead, sweet moans of your name leave his lips and it makes your ears twitch.

toji’s fully in and you feel every inch of him.

you’re bouncing on his dick until your ass was hitting near the hilt, the swollen base of his shaft felt so full and he’s chewing back sharp breaths that try to leave his packed full lungs. his high shortly leaves him with a slight pussy drunken grin and it’s so attractive—

the way his crimson glossed lips appeared all lopsided and droopy, twisting nto a sheepish smile. you spot two visible dimples on both sides of cheeks poking out from his lazy feral half-grin. you even found it hot how every so often he’d flick his tongue near the scar that slopes down the right side of his mouth.

“fuck me,” he repeats, using both hands to make you bounce harder.

skin against skin, both bodies press and squish against each other, and rocking in rhythm and lustful harmony. both of you felt so hot.

scorchingly hot, his heat radiates off of you and you lean into his warm.

it was so hot that you felt like you were gonna melt right on his lap—being turned into nothing but a puddled mess.

you whine, feeling his reddened tip start to thrash against your most sweetest spots.

thwack after abrupt thwack, it was tender at first but now it started to become more sloppy, more sloppy and rude. his mushroom tip swirls around your gripping, coating your insides while leaving blissful french kisses so good that your toes curl up again. “f- fuck, ‘s good, makin’ me feel—”

and his words get interrupted once you stop his sentence for another kiss. “mmph,” he jolts back, speedily returning the sultry embrace.

he could never get enough of your taste, that was for certain. your honed hips continue to buck forward into him as he’s fighting dominance for your tongue—you reel into him continuously as your thighs start to feel a twinge of convulsions.

toji’s balmy breath collides against yours as you slowly pry open your mouth, swapping strings of saliva and lapping up the few remnants of spit that dribble down past the cracks of his lips. “ngh, baby,” he whines between kisses, and his voice softens a bit. it’s not its usual cocky tone. it’s more affectionate,

more tender.

toji can’t keep his hands off of you. as he’s breathlessly speaking between kisses—a whisper of murmurs, he starts to spank your ass. smack after smack, you moan once his palm swats against you, encouraging your hips to go faster.

he quickly gets addicted to the reacting recoil. it was just the way your facial expressions twist from each smack and your little gasps at the brief stings that live near the centers of your rear.

“harder toji,” you whimper, digging your knees more into his thighs. with how fast you were bouncing on his cock, you were already in a trance. a trance you never wanted to get out of.

“tch,” he scoffs, giving your ass another spank. then one turns into two, then three.

he likes the way the fat of your ass collides against his palm. it’s enticing—he stares at you before biting near your chin. it’s more of a playful nibble. dark pools of eyes meet yours and you spot them through your peripherals. you moan at his touch before he feels you push him further back against the sofa. toji looks at you, falling back before you take the wheel. “fuck, gonna make me cum?”

and you don’t give him a reply. he prefers it that way. your hips end up speaking for you and as you rock against him quicker, the sofa cries out a plethora of squeals at the pressures of weight pounding onto it. “yeah you fuckin’ are,” he groans, pulling at the right cheek of your ass.

toji’s still very sensitive from before, but with the way you’re moving and how good your ass throws itself around him, he knew he was about to get ten times more sensitive. he just knew you were gonna milk him, ring him draw. fuck, the thought of being drained by your sweet cunt left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. not only that, but toji felt himself salivating the more he imagined himself finishing because of you.

he lowly grunts, munching down on his lip as the core muscles in his washboard abs tighten and flex underneath his tank top. your cunt constricts around his shaft every single time—ravaging your swollen needy walls became something he never wanted to stop doing.

you were so warm, his cock reached very specific areas that made you whimper out his name over and over on repeat as if it was some sort of exaggerated mantra.

“tojiiiii,” you whine, feelings of lust foiling at your brain. with the constant tingling sensations of his dick stretching through you—you gasp everytime, hearing the lewd shakiness linger underneath your voice. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too.”

“c- cum with me, pretty girl,” he pants, clammy hands of his pawing at your waist.

your body and the way it moved against him in such maddened rhythm had him entirely dumbfounded. his brows arch as he leans back, adam’s apple still bobbing all in his throat. toji’s cock continues to jut his dick way into your drooling pussy before you let off a looooong three second mewl full of concluding elation.

it lasts a long time, the feeling you felt as you’re losing yourself on your roommate’s lap—yet this time, your eyes widen once your thighs clench together before collapsing.

you’re dexterously sucking him in well before your climax comes again—but as you’re trying to focus on your breathing, you feel yourself spraying all over his weighty cock. sappy sweet juices pour down his base as your mouth cutely forms into a circular shape of surprise.

“ffuckk,” you curse, your voice pitching as you pulse all around him. your chaste clit swerves against him as you’re finally coming undone. it’s so much, you left a pool of a mess right on his lap and he was just luxuriating in your sweet filth.

but before toji cums, his bottom lip quivers—beads of perspiration sliding down the sides of his face. “can i- can i finish inside?”

with a numb cock-drunken expression, you give him a nod. “y- yeah, go ahead,” and you look into his eyes, whispering into his ear. “c’mon toji, ‘s okay. give it to me. you can make a mess in me too.”

toji hoarsely groans at your words, holding onto you tight. “fuck, keep talkin’ to me,” he makes you bounce harder on his cock, his muscles clenching at such sensations. “think ‘m gonna cum jus from your words, princess.”

“good boy. f- fuck, toji cum in me,” you teasingly lick near his earlobe.

he grunts at your playfulness—his cock reaching its very limit. he’s so full, his jaw feels heavy before you kiss his cheek. “wan’ you to cum in me. don’t miss, baby. that’s it, h- hold my hips like that, mhm.”

toji holds back a whine as you’re preparing to milk him for all he’s got—he hiccups briefly before it spurts out all at once. it’s much more intense from before. as if on que, toji finished a few seconds later. but once he finishes again, this time it’s not as quick as last time.

he shoots into you raw and it’s literally as if his life changed right before his eyes.

toji’s feeling your hips momentarily swerve and stutter in swift arcs before he’s dumping such a sloppy goopy load into your pussy. slimy stringy ropes trickle into you all at once, shooting right into your empty womb. it’s so much of a load that some of it spills past your saturated folds and down his base.

“s- shit,” he looks down, glancing down at his bushy happy trail through his low hazed peripherals. you’re running a finger down the thin stretchy fabric of his tank top as you ride him, toying at his curly minuscule hairs with your fingertips.

toji came a lot. saying he came a lot was a understatement, he came a ton. such ropes oozed out of you and it was such a pretty sight. for sure—it a lot more than last time, it spills so much that it creates a creamy milky ring around his base. with the both of you now cumming in torrent, you can feel him shaking violently underneath you. the warmth of your walls was something he never knew he needed more.

toji’s mouth grows dry as he reclines back against the sofa. the movie was well over, black credits of dozens of random names blurred on the screen and all.

you both grow quiet. your head presses against his chest— feeling a few strands of chest hair tickle against your cheek. his heart was racing, and it was all because of you.

you didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to move, because then his cum would leak out of you. toji liked the feeling of having you plugged full, your thighs—specially near the crevices and insides were all sticky and wholly coated with his velvety hot spurts of cum.

“f- fuck,” you murmur in an almost whisper, feeling one of his hands slide back toward your ass. toji’s matching your irregular heaving pants before he feels you trying to get up. “toji, let’s—”

“stay,” he cuts you off, and he’s got the most neediest expression. his voice was whiny, he swallows—more breathy pants leaving from him before he buries his face in your chest. verdant droopy eyes give you a long stare before he hugs you, strong broad arms wrapping around you. “i- i want more,” he shivers in your embrace.

you sit up and you thought he was leaning in for a kiss—but instead, he licks your bottom lip. “i don’t wanna jus get high with you anymore, i just want you. i fuckin’ need you, girl,” and you can almost see hearts in his eyes. yeah, he was whipped.

toji cups your face, his voice shaky and he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your palm.

“please. one more round, baby. i love-” and he cuts himself off, his eyes widening before he backtracks, his pout growing. “i need you.”

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.