#they have a screwed up something-like-a-relationship in my head

[wonderlandwalker]

Oh Captain, My Captain | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: James discovers a new kink

Content Warnings/Tags: smut, like a lot, mdni, established relationship,no use of y/n, basically porn with fluff, one (1) swear word, only slightly proofread

Word Count: 2.5k

A/n: Filth that I've had in my head for ages and finally spend all night writing because I'm dopamine deficient

James never really understood good luck charms, believing dedication and hard work were what always made the difference, but from the moment you had jokingly brought up being his, he’d been convinced. Because he loved having you at his games, even before you had started going out, at one point in the game or another he’d always try and spot you in the crowd, looking over the stands in search of you. And of course you were here today as well, but the moment he saw you in the crowds his heart dropped. He had to blink to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, because there you were, wearing his sweater. It was such a trivial thing, yet couldn’t stop himself from staring, staring at you and the way you were cheering the team on. The house colours had always suited you so well, you’d even borrowed his sweaters before, but this, this was nothing like that. This was his sweater, the one he had tossed down on his bed earlier, opting for his jersey instead, the one with his name embroidered on it, the one with the captain patch sewed on, and he was struggling to take his eyes off you. The only reason he ended up doing so was because Marlene quite literally knocked him back into reality as they crossed paths. It caused her to lose the quaffle she had been holding, further resulting in her telling him to ‘fucking focus’. 

Right; focus. This was the championship game against Hufflepuff, he had to focus. He was the team captain after all, he shouldn't be slacking about, but his mind simply kept wondering back to that title currently adorning you as well. It was like it had awoken something in him that was buried so deep down he hadn’t even known it was there himself, something so feral he hadn’t even known to look for it, but there it was, and it was only by some sort of miracle he hadn’t enswd screwing up the entire match, because they had, in fact, won. That it was a close call chalked he up as a problem for later. 

After a win he’d usually be ecstatic, running to meet up with his teammates as he’d land, spurring them on with cheer. But right now as his feet finally met the ground he simply went past everyone as he told them he had to go. He decided to take a beeline for the changing rooms, concluding he was in dire need of a long, cold shower. But as he felt the stream hit him, all he could think about was dragging you under the water with him, about letting his hands roam free against your every curve. And the more he thought about it, the more he could almost feel it, feel how your clothes would stick skin tight to you, feel your red and gold painted nails scratch paths down his back.  He loved the marks you’d leave, would treasure them like his own private art collection. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much more time to think about it as Frank knocked on the stall door, letting him know they were all headed back to the common room to celebrate. 

So he got dressed to head back to the castle as well. Maybe a walk with fresh air would clear his head. It wasn’t the thought itself that bothered him, he was used to those. What bothered him was their origin, because that was something new entirely. James was used to being so sickingly sweet in even the smallest of things that your friends once banned him from touching you for an entire weekend as punishment, which had been all too entertaining to everyone but him. He liked to gently coax you back onto his bed and make sure there wasn't a centimetre of your skin he hadn't touched. He’d pay close attention to every small change in your breathing, and he’d let his ears feast on the moans he’d etch from you. This wasn’t what was normally stuck on his mind after a big game, but somehow he couldn't think about winning margins if his life depended on it. The only thing stuck on his mind was you.

There you stood, in the middle of the room as he entered. You were surrounded by your friends, hands raised high with shot glasses in praise of tonight's victory. He wondered what your lips would taste like from the cherry vodka you’d like to drink, the liquor usually intoxicating both of you. And usually, he wouldn’t hesitate to go and find out, but something told him that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and this was not exactly the right place for that. So he silently slipped into the room, finding a table of drinks and getting himself a glass of fire whiskey that he drank as fast as he poured it.

As he went to stand next to you, placing his hand down onto your hip, you spun around to greet him, reaching up and kissing him before he could get himself to stop you. And when you pulled back he found himself chasing the feeling, chasing that something that tasted like more.

From that moment on, all he could do was stand there, zoned out, as he tried to listen to what everyone was saying, but all it was to him was background noise. He wondered if it would be considered rude to simply leave without saying a word, he wondered how much longer he had to stay for it not to be. But he suddenly got snapped back when heard a burst of cheers coming from his left side. And as he looked over he could see why, you were standing on one of the coffee tables with Marlene, dancing on top of it with her. As he tuned back in he heard Lay All Your Love on Me playing, he knew you could never resist this song.

Your hips were going along with it in a way he thought should be considered sinful, and he was surely going to hell for the way he was staring. Marlene was nothing short of an accomplice to the crime, she was holding you so close it almost made him jealous. No, not almost, it definitely made him jealous. He had seen you two dance to this song countless times, so why did it bother him now as Marlene dropped onto her knees in front of you when the chorus hit.

As soon as it ended he coaxed you down next to him, catching you in his arms as you stumbled down. But before you could make another move he was prompting you towards the stairs, determined as he walked up to the dorm rooms with you. You weren’t used to seeing him so quiet, to how pensive he was acting. The silence in between you was so thick you didn’t dare break it either, not until you reached the bedroom and he closed the door behind you.

“James what’s going on-”

“You’re wearing my sweater.” It was more of a statement than anything else, and it made you unsure of how to respond, but not wanting to leave him unanswered with how solemnly he was staring at your face you did so anyway, even if it was just rambling.

“I thought it’d bring extra luck, I found it on your bed, I should've asked, I can go change-” 

But right then he stopped your spiralling immediately, pushing you further against the door, trapping you against it. “Don’t you dare take it off.” You could see the fire behind his eyes now, feel the dominance that was seeping off him tonight, and that’s when all of a sudden, for you, it made sense. It was new, sure, but it was obvious, and it made you wonder how far you could push him until he’d break. 

“So make me stop.” It was such a childish sentiment, but it did the trick. And you weren’t entirely sure how you had expected him to react, but James didn’t waste another second before he connected his lips with yours, clashing against you as he did.

It wasn’t the usual tender-hearted James you were used to, it was a fever dream rush of movement, and from the moment he got what he had been craving after all night, he was insatiable about it. He started to trail kisses down your neck, practically biting a path down to your chest, he let his hands palm over the back of your legs, he made his way over every part of you he could find quick access to. And so you weren’t surprised when he hoisted you up his body so he could walk down to the bed, throwing you down on it the moment he reached it.

He created only a small window of time when stripping himself of his shirt, grabbing your ankles to pull you closer, finding your lips once again. He didn’t let any further time pass before trailing his hands down over thighs, starting to feel how slick they already were as he got higher up.

“You like this don’t you darling, you like seeing me riled up?” His face was harsher than usual, clenched together from the self-control he had to keep all night, and it was certainly doing things to you. It didn’t take much longer for his fingers to find your clit, already rubbing circles onto it as he used his other hand to rid himself of his trousers. His gaze was still focused on you, watching you with more determination than you had ever seen in him before. You were looking back at him with hooded eyes, gasping as he mercilessly continued, your head falling back as you saw him free his cock. He was as desperate as you were, but he was clearly better at masking it, and you were about to plead as he gave you exactly what you wanted. He lined himself up, pushing all the way inside in one, fast, thrust.

There wasn’t a build-up, there wasn’t any hesitation as he simply pulled all the way out, before fully pumping himself back in, setting an agonisingly fast pace that you slowly started to get addicted to. And he keeps giving it to you for a bit longer before he abruptly stops. It makes you open your eyes again to see him, seeing the clogs turn through his eyes as he drops your legs from his grasp before bringing an arm under your back and flipping you so he’s lying on the bed. 

You already know exactly what he wants, anchoring yourself with a hand on his chest as you sit up, straddling him, sinking down onto him. This time you try and force your eyes to stay open, determined to see how his eyes roll to the back of his head, even though the pleasure is overwhelming you as well. As you start to move back and forth you can feel him even deeper than before, but you can’t quite set the same pace as him, and once his eyes find their focal point on you, when he roams his eyes over your figure and over the sweater you still had on, you can see his gaze turn dark again. His hands move from where they had settled just above your ass to find a firm grip on your hips instead, forcefully moving them to go faster, finding that same brutal pace from earlier. You can feel his muscles flexing at the action and the combination of it all is starting to turn your body numb from the pleasure, luckily for you, he’s learned to read you like a book by now.

“Let go for me, honey.” It’s a whisper, and you’re surprised at how clear you can hear it with how hazy everything else is right now. And as he feels you cumming a feral groan finds its way up from deep within his chest, and you didn’t know he could, but he starts to move even faster. The only thing your mind is capable of at the moment is to mumble pleas and moan his name like a mantra, you’re not sure how much longer you can take it but you don’t dare asking him to stop either. You can feel how close he is, how desperate he has become for the release. The muscles in his abdomen tense up, his jaw clenched impossibly tight and you recognize his rushed breathing pattern. He doesn’t make you wait much longer before you can feel him spilling into you, unending profanities and prayers of your name leaving him as he does.

And for the first time since you entered the room there is a moment of simply nothing, you relax to find a comfortable position laying down on him, tangling your limbs together on pure instinct. You could swear you zoned out for a minute or two, but now you can feel him trace patterns down your arm, a habit of his that could lull you right to sleep, but you know the night is still young. 

“You wanna head back down to celebrate your championship?” You’re sure your friends are in the middle of some muggle drinking game you’d easily be able to join, but James declines the offer.

“Sweetheart, this right here is reward enough for me” You know he means it too, that he’s made it back to his golden hearted self, but per usual, you can't help but taunt him

“Whatever you say, Captain.” The sarcasm in your statement is thick, but as you say it you can see his pupils expanding, his breathing becoming a bit more shallow as you feel him become hard again. He flips you over once more, caging you between his arms as he looks straight into your eyes.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish darling” You’re pulling at his strings again, and you hadn’t done so on purpose, but you’re enjoying it immensely. 

“Oh I have every intent on finishing Jamie." At your words James ducks down into another heated kiss, moving one of his hands to finally take his sweater off you, a mischievous grin on his face as he trails his way down your body.

“As your Captain, I suppose I should help you with that.” You’d make another remark back if you weren’t already so lost in pleasure again. He’d made his way down to your cunt, eating you out with a fervor that made you moan out for him as your fingers found their way into his hair. The night was definitely still young, and as the party downstairs continued to drown out the noises you were making, you weren’t planning on making it end anytime soon either.

[fourleafclovxr]

8: hewn

Only one teacher is allowed into the Theatre of Tales, the night before the Circus of Talents. The rest are locked in their rooms, doors spelled shut with a magic far older and more powerful than their own, for all the Dean of Good might try.

But August Sader walks unrestricted in the School; Rafal could not keep him trapped if he tried. Not that he would try. There’s an old analogy about two birds. One that has every luxury in the world, but is kept in a locked cage. Another that has nothing, except for its freedom to come and go as it pleases. The first will fly away as soon as it is able. The second will always come back home.

August is still unsure of which, exactly, Rafal sees him as. Or which he is.

Rafal must know that, in the end, they are not on the same side.

But he is kind to August, or if not kind, at least lenient with him in ways no one else is afforded. Of all his colleagues August alone is allowed the privilege of freely coming and going wherever he desires. He can go home, meet his brothers, meet their children— if they want to see him. He can visit his sister and her twins, Rafal’s twins— if she lets him. Most of the time she doesn’t. The last time he saw Rhian and Japeth was their eighth birthday, the year before Evelyn sent them off to Arbed House.

A lot of the freedoms Rafal allows him are not freedoms at all, really. August would not leave the School if he could help it. He likes it here, really, likes that he’s familiar with the winding steps and the ever-alike classrooms and the intersecting hallways, likes that he knows his way around.

More than that, this is his duty. This School; this post.

And this man, just a man, who knows full well August would never believe his mystique. The School Master is sparing with his name, but he’d given it to August freely: Rafal, or, as I was known before, Rhian. Call me Rafal. My dear brother was wrong about me. He’s dead, now.

August, who had written and animated his first draft of the Student’s History of the Woods about Rafal and Rhian, or the other way around— then promptly burned it— had only nodded. Rafal’s mask had glinted, a blur of silver in August’s vision. I look forward to working with you, my Seer, he’d said.

My Seer. Rafal has always treated him like a possession, a prize. Has always been so proud that August chose to come to him. It is something that is easy to resent.

And yet August chooses to come to him, even now. Chooses to sit and listen patiently as Rafal enchants wooden likenesses of dying princes, on the other side of the Theatre for Tales. He’s spelled them to die with choked-off screams and feeble declarations of Good, though August isn’t sure how they’re dying exactly. It would be disturbing, if they weren’t in a School quite literally raising children to kill each other in their fourth year.

August has been dreaming of these things for years. Before he knew what they were.

He’s been dreaming of Rafal for longer. He knows all this already.

One last scream, and the room drifts mercifully into silence. Rafal turns, his boots clicking neatly on the floor as he makes his way back to the Good side of the theatre, cape sweeping over the floor with more flair than ever necessary.

He comes to a stop in front of August; offers his arm, fingers brushing August’s shoulder. There is not much August can do other than take it, gripping his cane firmly as Rafal pulls him to his feet. Rafal’s hands are, as always, ice-cold.

“You never have anything to say,” Rafal says lightly, half-complaining. “Perhaps this is the year my art finally gets through to you.”

“Our dearly beloved School Master,” August says, acerbic. “An artist. Perhaps you should pursue that, instead.”

“I could say the same about you, my dearly beloved Seer,” Rafal laughs. He seems happy to have gotten a rise out of August at all.

They pause just in front of the wall. August brushes his fingers over the carvings with a gentle touch; the carved knights cough and cry as he does. It’s good workmanship. Rafal has had a hundred years to improve on it, after all. But it’s not a very pleasant experience.

He says as much. “It’s not supposed to be,” Rafal replies, “they’re Evil.” He guides August to a carving of… some monster, or another, one that roars under his touch, spitting a burst of burning sparks. August tugs his hand back reproachfully. Rafal laughs, again.

“I’ll enchant something nicer for Good,” he promises. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Our first Good Seer in generations. Our first Seer with any sort of allegiance.” His voice strays dark as he completes the thought.

“You know very well why I have an allegiance,” August says mildly. It’s his duty; to kill Rafal. There is only one way this story ends.

“We could have been such good friends,” Rafal sighs. “You and I. But then I suppose we would have no reason to be.” He hooks his arm through August’s once again. They play at closeness, the two of them. Or Rafal does, at any rate.

They move to the crystal freizes, on Good’s side of the Theatre. They must be lovely, like everything to do with Good is. The stained glass is pleasantly cool under August’s fingers; he makes out the outline of a rose in bloom.

“I’m thinking of having them bloom as the students enter,” Rafal says idly. “No monsters here.”

“You just resent that Good keeps winning,” August sighs.

“I do,” Rafal admits openly. He has nothing to hide from August. He could not, either way. “There are more carvings, lower down, if you care for them.”

August nudges at the base of the wall with his cane, curious; he kneels to feel the raised patterns. Textured feathers. There, a wing, another. Borne in flight.

“Swans,” Rafal provides. Of course. He’s more predictable than he thinks.

August moves his cane along the wall, then starts walking back towards the other side, cane knocking against the continuous loop of carvings. Twin swans hewn all around the Theatre. A reminder of a promise unfulfilled.

Rafal doesn’t usually care so much.

But, of course, this Circus is special.

“This will be the tale to end all tales,” the School Master says, almost to himself. “Won’t it, August?”

“I don’t take questions,” August says.

“This is what you’re here for, after all,” Rafal continues, as if August had never spoken at all. “What role are you going to play, I wonder? Will we have to be enemies?”

This is the second to last time they will ever meet each other. August has spent years knowing Rafal, years with the idea of him— the shadow of him— living in his head. It was never going to amount to anything more than this.

Will he fly free, out of this gilded cage? Or has he sworn himself to Rafal, and his tale, and his end? You go on, no matter the cost. Seers don’t speak of costs, they only speak of duty.

Either way, both of them are trapped.

“You know,” Rafal says. Almost wistful. “You know, if I had the chance, I would want it to be you.”

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW AND TWO CLUELESS MORONS | kinich x gn!reader

— in which ajaw tends to interrupt kisses. and ruin moments.

— this took way too long to get out, winner of this poll w 458 votes .. includes pre + post getting together, kinich does bite , i love ajaw

recently, the little pixelated... thing that called itself "almighty dragonlord k'uhul ajaw" had proved to be quite troublesome.

and it wasn't just in your love affairs with malipo kinich; ajaw took it upon himself to make not a single second of your day silent.

"i'm nOT forigiving you for this you... you... you- aGH, NEVERMIND! you're literally HOGGING kinich's attention so like.. screw off already!!"

needless to say, it seemed that ajaw was a jealous individual. you'd heard a thing or two about him from kinich, though rather.. unsavory things: irrelevant tidbits, a nonchalant little comment of "i forgot to mention, he'll take over my body when i die, so he constantly wishes for my misfortune."

oh yeah, like that was totally normal.

then, perhaps ajaw's jealousy wasn't unfounded — you "owned" kinich more than he ever would, lol. funnily enough, the way the two of you had met was purely due to ajaw, so if anything, he didn't have the right to complain.

from what kinich told you later on, he had been on some bounty mission for a troupe of ragtag saurian poachers, and had swung by to check grappling indents on the cliffside when ajaw spotted an adventurer scaling the rock. doing what he does best — causing a celestial fuck of a racket — he hovered over, preaching about how "real adventurers don't use equipment" and to "drop everything to show your bravery" ... after a proper talking to, kinich met with you to convey a formal apology.

at the time, you didn't know such a professional relationship would develop into something more.

"he's bothering you again? i'll scold him..."

kinich's voice was quiet, his head settled in your lap, one hand gently circling your wrist. you slowly ran a hand through his hair, released from its typical headband-style. soft, it was fluffy to the touch, and you heard kinich hum in content, bringing his hands up to caress your face — a silent request for a kiss.

and how could you resist? there was something in that gaze that seemed so pleading, so intimate-

"you ICKY ICKY LovEBIRDS !! FOR THE LOVE OF- GET A ROOM!!"

kinich withdrew his hands with a scowl, lips pressing into a thin line. "... read the room, ajaw."

"this almighty dragonlord is not going to witness a k-kis- grOSS, i can't even SAY it...!!"

"..."

kinich seemed to consider something, very briefly.

then, he grabbed the sputtering pixel-dragon forcefully, smothering ajaw's face with a gloved hand. watching in awe and feeling thoroughly entertained, you heard indignant shouts grow muffled.. and just like that, ajaw shut up for the first time in over a decade. historical.

your lover leaned forward, angling his head to the side to press a chaste little kiss into your neck. like he had flipped a switch, he grazed his teeth lightly against your skin, nipping at it first, though not hard enough to draw blood, then biting at it.

"ouch, are you trying to leave a mark? what's with you?"

"shush." he spoke with his face flush to your neck, kissing a small trail up your neck and onto your jaw as if in apology. "i'm merely claiming what's mine."

and there ajaw floated, suffocated and forgotten. "..hell, are those two SERIOUSLY making out ?? when im literally rIGHT HERE!?"

(a/n) ajaw is so detestable i love him if possible i think id want to pinch his pixel cheeks. anyway "so call me maybe" is up next w "so cradle these wings" after, they were supposed to be sorta related but i don't the release order matters so :p

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[nanaslutt]

Good boy

synopsis: Choso ditched you for his brother. His punishment? Getting tied up and watching you get off.

pairing: Choso x reader

cont: fem reader, established relationship, kinda sub!Choso, restraints, masturbation, cumming untouched, bed humping, oral(r!r), dirty talk, cum eating, praise

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Choso's strong arms pull against the rope that binds them, secured in a way that can even hold him down. He's sat on his knees with a pout on his face while a puddle of pre-cum grows on the floor underneath his twitching cock, a line of the slick connected to the tip of his dick. 

Choso has to remember to swallow every so often as he watches you piston your fingers in and out of your cunt, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. His face is all screwed in lust and need, his eyes glossed over and lips swollen and wet from how frequently he licks his tongue over them. 

The squelches emanating from your pussy only makes his cock throb even harder. "F-fuuuuck Choso-" You whine, spreading your legs further apart for him, letting him get a better view of the mess you were making between your legs. Your fingers were coated with your wetness and were only getting wetter and wetter with each thrust.

Choso's cock bobbed at the sound of his name leaving your lips. "It hurts, I- I wanna fuck you now," Choso begged, stuttering out his words. He felt like crying, his poor balls felt so heavy and he needed to feel something wrapping around his cock before he lost his mind. 

You shook your head, adding your other hand between your legs to start rubbing at your clit. Choso whined, watching astutely as your cunt squeezed around your fingers at the added stimulation. "D-did that feel good?" Choso asked, his eyebrows furrowing together tighter. "You got tighter when you touched yourself there." He explained.

You gasped, rubbing your clit faster while looking up at him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes which were focused on your hole. "Yeah, Cho, f-feels so good." You replied, your pace faltering for a moment as you rubbed your clit perfectly, making your mind go blank. 

Choso's breath picked up, he was panting loudly now, squirming on the floor. "I wanna lick it. I- I wanna lick your pussy." Choso cried, licking his lips. "Please, please give me something It hurts, my cock hurts." You almost started to feel bad, but each time your eyes found his desperate face, it was hard to. 

He looked so vulnerable, so needy, it was a good look on him. "No Choso, t-this is your punishment for ditching me for your brother." You said, staying adamant in your stance on not letting him fuck you. "I- I know I know I'm sorry, I don't have to put it inside just- please, please give me something." Choso cried, his shoulders flexing as he tried to wiggle out of his restraints.

Looking at him for a few seconds, you decided a little something couldn't hurt. Pulling your fingers out of your cunt, you sat up and crawled toward Choso who sat by the wall. He watched with hungry eyes as you slowly made your way closer to him, leaving your previous spot against the back of the bed.

"You wanna taste me?" You asked, tilting your head at him. You braced yourself on your knees and leaned forward, placing one of your hands on his upper thigh to steady yourself, dangerously close to his cock. Choso nodded hastily before you even finished speaking. "I'm not going to touch you, this is all you get." You told him, making him look into your eyes so you know he understood.

"Okay, thank you, thank you," Choso asked, his eyes dropping to your hand that had just been inside of you. "Open." You instructed, watching him with bated breath as his jaw fell open and his tongue fell out, his eyebrows furrowing together in need. "Good boy." And with that, you pressed your fingers against his tongue, letting him wrap his lips around them as he sucked off your juices, his tongue swirling around them.

A smile graced your features when his eyes rolled back in his head and a loud muffled moan vibrated your fingers. Your mouth fell open in a small o, the feeling of his tongue licking your fingers making you feel a new sense of need between your thighs. 

Suddenly, Choso bit down on your fingers, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to catch you off guard, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. You watched Choso's body jerk repeatedly, his eyes fluttering in their sockets before you felt something warm and hot land on your thigh.

"Oh fuck..." You whispered to yourself as Choso whined around your fingers, his tongue still working adamantly around them, trying to prolong your taste as much as he could. Choso's cock bobbed heavily in the air, his balls throbbing as he released his seed all over you and the floor between you. 

Your fingers slipped out of his mouth when his chest fell forward, his head landing against your shoulder. "Oh my god Choso, fuck." You whined, your body feeling like it had been set on fire. Choso was cumming. Choso was cumming hands-free, just from tasting you.

You reached out to grab his hot cock at the end of his orgasm, slowly jerking him off, trying to milk every last drop out of him. "Oh- y-your hand-" Choso groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, wishing he could cling onto you with his arms right now. "F-feels good, feels so good keep touching me, please." He begged. 

You knew you weren't supposed to touch him, at least according to your own rules right now, but when he begged so sweetly it was hard to ignore him. Choso breathed heavily against the side of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "You like my taste that much, baby?" You asked, running your freehand through his hair, still every so slowly jerking him off. 

He nodded right away, a soft "uh-huh" leaving his lips. "You're so cute Choso, so cute." You praised, dropping your eyes to his cock, noticing how his abs still clenched and twitched every so often. He made such a mess, his cum had drenched your thighs and the floor under him.

"You made such a mess though, Cho." You said, gripping his hair tightly between your fingers, pulling him out of the crook of your neck softly. "Look at all this, it's everywhere." You said, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs at the sight as you pretended to act annoyed.

"I- I'll clean it." Choso immediately offered, looking up at you like a puppy as he nodded at his own words. You let go of his cock and wiped your hand clean on your thigh before grabbing his soft face in both of your hands, which he leaned into, his eyes closing as he nuzzled against your palms. 

"How are you gonna clean it with your hands tied behind your back?" You asked, waiting for him to suggest a certain idea before you did. Choso was one step ahead of you as he answered, "My mouth, I'll use my mouth." He said confidently, his face staying serious even when you smiled, your eyes raising in surprise. 

"Yeah? You gonna lick up your own cum off my thighs?" You asked, a hint of teasing in your tone. Choso nodded right away, already trying to lean down to start when you slid one of your hands behind his head and gripped his scalp, tugging his hair sharply, making him groan as he was stopped in his tracks.

"I'm not gonna make you do it on this hard floor, come lay on the bed with me." You said, your thumb rubbing against his cheek. Choso followed you like a duckling as you grabbed his forearm and pulled him backward with you towards the bed. You helped Choso situate himself between your thighs, his arms stim bound behind his back.

Choso sighed in relief, in this position his cock was pressed firmly against the sheets, making his still prominent arousal get a little relief. Choso nuzzled his head against your thigh as you placed your legs around his shoulders, your hands gathering the stray hairs around his face, making sure his hair didn't get any cum on it.

"Good boy Choso." You praised, looking at him fondly as he licked his first fat stripe against your thigh, taking his tongue back into his mouth and swallowing quickly before he scrunched his nose and opened his mouth for more. His reaction made you giggle. "You don't like the way you taste?" You asked, feeling yourself throb the closer and closer Choso got to licking up the cum that was right next to your throbbing pussy on your inner thigh.

Choso shook his head before swallowing, his hot tongue making your thighs clench as it caressed your skin repeatedly. "I was just thinking I feel bad for you." You laughed at how cute he was beginning before you shook your head and ran your fingers through his hair to recollect it before you held it back again, out of his face.

"I like the way you taste Choso." You said, making his eyes shoot up at you, locking onto yours as he leaned forward and licked another stripe against your leg, the eye contact making you swallow hard. Choso blushed at your shameless words before he shut his eyes and continued cleaning you off.

Your breathing started to pick up when his licks became kisses and bites, and he became less and less focused on cleaning off his cum, the trail of his mouth getting dangerously close to your cunt. You were throbbing at this point, you almost wanted to beg him to touch you. "Choso." You said softly, about to warn him not to touch you per his punishment, but you were unable to do so, instead tightening your hand on his hair, hoping that would get something across to him because there is no way you had the will to tell him not to touch you right now.

Choso looked up at you with lidded eyes, all glossed over and fucked out as he shimmied closer to your cunt, licking the skin just under your pussy lips. The look on your face now was pure lust and unbridled need as you swallowed hard, watching Choso try and be sneaky. Keeping his eyes on you, he stuck his tongue out before he leaned forward and opened his mouth, his tongue falling out, making your breath pause before he closed his eyes and made contact with your cunt.

"Oh fuck Choso-" You whined breathlessly, your head immediately falling back against the sheets at the contact, your grip in his hair loosening as you held him against you using the nape of his neck.

Choso moaned softly, shaking his head back and forth against your pussy as he lapped at your folds, his tongue breaching the entrance of your pussy as he swallowed up your wetness, replacing the bitter taste of his cum with the sweet taste of yours. Because Choso's arms were bound behind his back, the only thing holding him up was your legs that caged him in, so his face was getting buried in your pussy, bringing you the most delicious pressure.

"M-mmmm-" Choso moaned into your cunt, his fat tongue stretching open your walls. "B-bad boy Choso, you're such a bad boy." You scolded, with no real malice behind your words. You were too horny, and his tongue felt too good to care about him breaking your rules. Choso hummed in response before his plush lips found your clit, wrapping around them.

"Oh god- right there Choso- Fuckkkk right there-" You moaned, gripping his hair and the nape of his neck ruthlessly, trying to ground yourself. Choso moaned against your clit, the sound vibrating your pussy, making your body jolt and jerk with the stimulation. 

You suddenly noticed how much the bed was shaking, which snapped you out of your own head a bit as you thought you were the one causing the commotion unconsciously. Peeking your head back up, you saw Choso's hips rutting quickly against the sheets, his eyes firmly shut as he ate you out, his tongue batting against your clit expertly.

You watched the way his hands clenched and unclenched in the restraints, the muscles of his back flexing every so often as he tried to fight them to no avail. "Does your cock feel needy again?" you asked, looking down at how sloppily he was working his tongue and lips against you. He nodded, his glossy eyes peeling open to find yours, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you gonna cum like that?" You questioned again, noticing how harshly he was fucking the bed, the frame squeaking underneath him. You blushed hard, from an outsider's perspective it sounded exactly like he was fucking you.

The man between your legs moaned as he nodded, his eyes staying locked on yours save for the occasional fluttering as he ate you out. His answer made your pussy clench around nothing. Choso was so shameless and desperate, you felt like you were gonna cum just from watching him hump the bed like some dog in heat.

"M-make me cum with you." You begged, feeling yourself on the verge of your orgasm. "I'm about t-to cum." Choso felt his balls tighten at your confession. The taste of you flooded his tongue, your smell invading all his senses as he flicked his tongue against your clit with twice the intensity, trying to make you cum before he did.

Suctioning his lips around you harder, your back arched against his face, which Choso followed with his head, not wanting to give you a second without pleasure. "Right there, right there, d-don't stop Choso, don't f-fucking stop-" You whined, your hips now humping against his mouth on their own volition, forcing him to nod his head with you to keep up, increasing the stimulation.

Choso was getting restless, he needed to touch you, needed to feel your body against his hands. He hated these damn restraints. Just before you felt yourself reach the edge, you heard an unintelligible 'snap' before you felt Choso's hands on you. Which is weird because you could've sworn you tied him up- but you couldn't think much about it as his tongue rubbing against you pushed you over the edge.

Choso gripped the fat of your thighs, keeping you flush against him as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. Choso followed only moments after, his cock humping weakly against the sheets as he came for the second time, his cock rubbed raw from the comforter, but that didn't stop him from fucking it roughly, pretending he was releasing his seed inside of you as he came.

Moans of his name falling from between your lips as your thighs snapped around his head only made his orgasm feel that much more intense. You had to practically push him off of you when the shocks of your high died down, his tongue starting to push you into oversensitivity. Peeling your eyes open slowly, you looked down at Choso, who was gripping your thighs, then over to the very expensive red shibari rope, which had been snapped in two.

You opened your mouth to speak but the next thing you knew, Choso's lips were on yours, his softening cum covered cock pressing against your inner thigh as he crushed you with his body, his arms coming between your and the mattress to wrap around your body, keeping you flush against him. All you could do was moan in surprise and gasp into his mouth as he forced his tongue between your lips, your taste flooding your mouth.

After the rushed, needy kiss, Choso pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you by your lips. His face was flushed and sweaty, and he was panting heavily, almost louder than you were. "I don't like that rope." Were the first words out of his mouth, making you giggle. You grabbed his face and pulled it against you, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"That rope was really expensive." You said, looking at him with raised eyebrows. Choso stared at you blankly before he squeezed his arms around you again and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his sweaty body overwhelming yours with heat. "Good. Don't buy another one I don't like it." He said pouting, his body relaxing into yours. 

"I won't as long as you don't ditch me for Yuuji anymore." You said, poking the tip of his nose. Choso crinkled it before he nodded and buried his head deeper. "Okay. Sorry." He replied, his breath tickling your collarbones as his breathing returned to normal. "Good boy, Choso. You're a good boy.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Happy Anniversary!

Summary: When Lando forgets the date of your anniversary, you can get over it. However, the pressure of his job isn’t a good enough reason to excuse all of his forgetful tendencies and lack of attention for you.

Lando Norris x fem!Reader, established relationship

WC: 4.8K

Warnings: cursing, angsty, sad fic with happy ending

Masterlist

The soft morning sunlight peeks through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft rosy glow over the room. You take a deep breath, a gentle smile settling on your face at the realisation that it’s already been a year – a year of being loved, of sharing every thought and story, of new experiences and memories... One year of being married to the love of your life. It’s hard to believe.

You turn on your side to face your husband, propping your head on your palm as you watch him sleep peacefully. Your hand is softly stroking his chest while you smile with adoration. “Good morning, baby,” you say when you notice the change in his breathing.

Lando merely grumbles, not quite awake yet. Nevertheless, he pulls you closer to his side, letting you cuddle up against his warm body. Pressing your face against his chest, you leave a few kisses along the bare skin.

Lando sighs, stretching out his body. “Good morning, darling,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile excitedly, sitting up to look at the handsome man you get to call your husband.

“Do you know what day it is?” You whisper.

Lando frowns as he wipes his tired eyes, “What day?” 

The confusion is evident in his voice. Regardless, you nod excitedly. Your smile falters as you watch the wheels turning in his head, gathering that he doesn’t remember. You move to the bedside table, rumbling through the drawer until you find what you’re searching for.

The expression on Lando’s face changes from confusion to guilt when you proudly show the present you’ve wrapped up so neatly, the realisation settling in. “Fuck. It’s our anniversary today, isn’t it?”

You nod, “I got you a little something, to celebrate,” you clarify. The smile on your face is gentle, comforting, and it nearly makes Lando believe you don’t care that he forgot.

“Oh, baby, I’m really sorry. I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary. God, that’s bad, isn’t it? The first year, and I’ve already screwed it up. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck.” Lando rubs a hand over his face, his expression pained.

“It’s okay, Lan. I know you’ve been busy,” you reassure him, “besides, it’s only the first year, we’ll have many more anniversaries.” You offer your gift again. “Just open the present, please? I want to know what you think of it!” You say enthusiastically.

Lando’s not fully convinced yet, “But I haven’t got anything for you,” he protests.

“Doesn’t matter, I already got this for you. Open, please!”

Lando sighs, but doesn’t resist further. However, the guilt of his forgetfulness settles deeper when he opens the carefully wrapped gift. You had taken the time and effort to make something, rather than buy a present, and he couldn’t even bother to remember your first wedding anniversary. He felt like an asshole.

At his silence, you felt the need to explain, “It’s a jar of notes,” you take the jar from his hands and open it. “It’s got different things: my favourite memories of us, things I love about you, what reminds me of you, just whatever I could think of. Then, when you’re gone for work, you can pull one out whenever you miss me,” you demonstrate, grabbing a note from the full jar, “or you could just call me, or whatever.” You put the piece of paper back, close the jar, and look up to your husband.

“Do you like it?”

Lando smiles lovingly, “I love it! Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says before kissing you softly.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get you anything. I swear I’ll make it up to you. In fact, I’ll make a reservation for tonight right now, we can go out to dinner together to celebrate, and if you want we can go shopping today too, I’ll buy you anything you want—” 

You cut him off with a laugh. “That’s not necessary, Lan. I know you love me. Besides, I’d much prefer to spend today at home with you, while you’re still here,” you say, stroking his face fondly before you pull him in for a kiss.

Regardless of your objections, Lando still manages to make a reservation for tonight at your favourite restaurant. He doesn’t make a single comment when you order the salmon despite his dislike for fish, and for weeks after he anticipates every single need you might have before you can utter even a syllable. He brings you the snacks he knows you love most on his way home, makes homecooked meals for you (however bad at cooking he is – he switched to take away after the first two times), and watches your favourite shows with you even though he hates them. He does anything and everything he can think of to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Unfortunately, his efforts only lasted a few weeks. Now, you knew what you were getting into when you married Lando last year. You had been in a relationship with him for several years before the wedding, so you are well aware of the time he needs to put into his work, even outside of office hours, not to mention the amount of stress and anxiety that come with racing at such a high level. That’s why it doesn’t bother you that much that your husband forgot about your anniversary; you know the pressure he’s under.

However, lately, his work has become even more time-consuming, more stressful and he’s become less attentive. It’s no surprise with how well the last races have been going – Lando’s finishing on the podium every weekend – that pressures have increased. He’s no longer fighting for only the constructor’s championship, but he has an actual chance at the driver’s championship too. The team is excited, and working hard, and the same is expected of Lando. Additionally, the fans have been putting more pressure. You know how much Lando’s affected by the stress of it all; he doesn’t want to disappoint, and now that the car’s performing, the only factor that could cause a loss, is him. The pressure, stress, and anxiety are taking over his body. He’s becoming more forgetful and instead of spending his free time with you, his wife, he’s thinking about the next race’s strategy, working out to improve his performance, or practising the tracks. Formula 1 had taken over the number one spot in his life.

You get where he’s coming from, you really do, but one of the most important things, if not the most important thing, in a relationship is communication and recently, Lando wasn’t communicating with you. He doesn’t tell you about the pressure or anxiety, all you know is from reading the man. After the number of years you’d spent together, you know him well enough to be aware of his struggles without him having to tell you.

You’d address the issue, ask him to talk to you, but you don’t when. Lando’s gone so much that you barely see him. His early mornings and early nights don’t align with your schedule; Lando’s gone before you’re properly up and has already eaten when you get home from work. The both of you have always been busy before, but at least you’d always eat together, and talk about your day. Now that those moments are missing, you feel lonely.

Lando has no clue of the things running through your mind. After all, you never told him. Even during the summer break, you keep quiet about your feelings, not wanting it to affect Lando’s performance during the races when you know how hard he's working to do well. Besides, it does get better during the break; Lando’s home more often and his mind's not as occupied with thoughts about his work. Nevertheless, he’s gone most of the time. You had expected for Lando to spend his time off with you, but instead, he hangs out with his friends.

Although the break has positively affected his behaviour, Lando's forgetfulness remains the same. You had told him about your friend’s birthday party several times during the past weeks, asking him to come along. When he promised you would, you thought things were finally going back to normal. But now, as you are waiting for your husband to come home so you can leave for the party together, you realise nothing has changed.

It’s already quarter past eight. Fifteen minutes later than you had said you would leave. You are ready to go – makeup glowing, favourite dress on, present wrapped and purse checked – when you decide you won’t wait any longer. You had given Lando plenty of chances to show his care for you and to consider you in his plans. You always visited his friends with him when he wanted you to, and he couldn’t show up for one party you asked him to come to? You leave the house, no messages sent and your phone on do-not-disturb: let him worry.

You plaster a fake smile on your face when you arrive to your friend’s house, pulling her into a hug when she opens the door. 

“Hey, girl! Happy birthday!” You say in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t believe you’re finally 25!” You continue, squeezing her tight.

“Thanks, babe,” she responds when you let each other go, looking over your shoulder. “Where’s Lando? Parking the car?”

“Uh, no, actually. He couldn’t come.” The awkward smile on your face says enough, she knows not to ask any further.

“Oh, okay. That’s too bad. I would have loved to see him. You know, congratulate him on his podiums, it’s been going well lately, no?” She walks you into the house as she speaks, turning her head to watch your reaction.

“Yeah, the team’s really improved.” Once again, the tight smile on your face is clear.

A frown forms on her face at your reaction and she’s about to ask further, whether everything is okay, when she’s interrupted.

“Hey, Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a while! How are you? You never come to the races anymore,” Carlos tells you with a fake pout.

You look at him in surprise. You always forget that everyone in Monaco knows each other. Carlos and your friend met at the golf club and had somehow become good friends. Usually, you liked seeing him, but tonight you would’ve preferred not to see him. Not because you don’t enjoy his company, but simply because you’d rather not talk about Lando, whom he’ll undoubtedly ask about.

And so, your mask shoots up when he pulls you into a hug. “Hey, Carlos. I’m good. How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing well. You heard the news? That I’m going to Williams next year?” You nod, saying a quick “Of course, congrats!” Naturally, you heard the news; everyone had. But this conversation was already heading in the wrong direction. “Yes, glad to have found a place that will appreciate me, even if the team’s not doing the best right now. Talking about the best, Lando’s been doing so well. You must be proud of him, hm?” 

“Ah, yes, of course,” you say indifferently.

Carlos frowns at your reaction. “Everything good between you two?”

Your smile drops, apparently, you aren’t as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. “Yeah, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

Carlos shrugs, “Just the way you react, is all. You seem kind of tense…”

You sigh, letting a silence fall for a few seconds. You might as well tell him, he’ll figure it out eventually. “You’re right. Things… haven’t been so great lately.”

Carlos frowns at your comment. “Between you and Lando, you mean? He didn’t say anything was up, he seemed fine the last time I spoke to him,” he says confusedly.

You roll your eyes at the suggestion, “I’m not surprised. He seems to be clueless to what’s been going on.”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink, “Have you talked to him about it?”

“That’s the issue. Lando’s never home, we barely speak anymore. He’s been so stressed with work that nearly all his free time is dedicated to racing. He gets up early and goes to bed before I’ve even had dinner. I’ve had no chance to talk to him.”

The frown deepens, and he breathes out a puff of air. “That’s tough.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you.”

“No, it’s fine don’t worry about it. Sometimes you need to get it off your chest.”

You look up at Carlos, hesitating to continue your story.

“Has the break not changed anything?” He pokes further.

Another sigh. “No, not really. Lando’s using his time off to catch up with his friends. And his forgetfulness has clearly not improved either.” 

“His forgetfulness?”

“Yeah, he forgot about the party, clearly.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes again.

“What else did he forget about?” Carlos asks with a frown.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” you hesitate, “but he forgot our anniversary. I told him it’s not a big deal, which it isn’t, but it’s just that everything is adding up. I feel kind of alone in the relationship at the moment, like he doesn’t really care about me anymore. How can I think otherwise, when we barely see each other, let alone speak?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That really sucks.” 

You smile sadly, as if to say ‘it is what it is’.

“It’ll work out in the end,” you tell him. You hope. “Maybe tonight he’ll realise he forgot something important, again. Maybe that’ll make a difference.” You offer an awkward smile.

Carlos breathes in deeply, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get your mind off it, huh?” he says while directing you towards the fridge.

You nod, follow him, and accept the drink he offers you. Tonight is not about Lando, it’s about your best friend and the fact she turned 25. You are not thinking about your husband until you get home.

– – – – – 

You slam the front door of your shared apartment louder than necessary when you enter. Nevertheless, there’s no reaction when you enter the dark apartment. You switch the lights on, noticing Lando isn’t in the living room or kitchen. Did he really go to sleep not knowing where you were or who you were with? Whether you were safe or not? Lando obviously didn’t remember the birthday party or he would’ve come, yet he didn’t text you to ask you where you were? Does he truly care so little about you? Does he even love you anymore? It feels like a punch to the gut – like someone had ripped your heart out. 

The man had been basically avoiding you for weeks, barely saying a word at the moments you did see him, but at least he was still awake to see if you arrived okay. Now he doesn't even stay up to check if you get home safely anymore? Or text you to ask where you are? To say you are upset is an understatement, you feel angry and neglected at his disregard. You feel lonely instead of beloved. The lump in your throat is a painful reminder of how close you are to crying. But you don’t. 

You swallow the lump, blink a few times to get rid of the lingering tears in your eyes and go into the bedroom to take off your makeup. You lean on the counter, sniffling silently, and close your eyes. You breathe in through your nose deeply, before breathing out through your mouth. It’ll be okay. Right? 

When you enter the bedroom you stare for a minute at the man sleeping peacefully before you. It feels wrong when you climb into bed next to him, nevertheless, you do it. It’ll probably take you a while to fall asleep tonight. 

– – – – –

The situation hasn’t changed a bit when the racing season starts back up again. No matter how strained your relationship has become, you do want to say goodbye to Lando before he leaves for the next race. So, the morning he’s supposed to fly, you make sure to get up extra early. You don’t know how, but he still somehow manages to finish his breakfast before you’re even out of bed, the container already in the trash.

“Good morning,” you mumble, wiping your eyes as they adjust to the bright light in the kitchen.

Lando looks up from his phone in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you awake this early. “Hey, what are you doing up?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” you say as you walk closer to the kitchen island at which he’s sitting.

“There’s no need for that, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon enough.” The smile on his face is sickeningly sweet, a clear contrast to the words coming out of his mouth.

You frown, “You’re leaving for a week… What do you mean, there’s no need?”

Lando sighs at your question, “Never mind, it’s kind of you to get up extra early just for me,” he smiles dismissively before getting up from his seat. “It’s time for me to go,” he says looking at his watch before grabbing his backpack and suitcase which are sitting by the door, “I’ll see you in a week.”

You’re left staring in surprise as the door slams closed. He didn’t kiss you goodbye. He always did that, even during the worst of fights. That’s your rule. Formula 1 is a dangerous sport, he could be hurt in a split second, never mind being killed. From the start of your relationship, he always kissed you before he left, just in case. You hated the thought at the start, but learned to think it was sweet; that, in case something happened, at least he kissed his girl goodbye.

You’re watching your marriage crumble before your eyes, and Lando doesn’t seem to have a clue, or pretends not to notice. This is it, you decide. This cannot go any further. As soon as he gets home, you will talk to Lando, no matter how badly it will affect his race. You can’t do this any longer.

However, somebody else is already one step ahead of you. Carlos had noticed the toll your strained marriage with Lando was taking on you, and couldn’t help confronting Lando the first second he saw him. It didn’t help either that Charles was way too curious about the relationship drama. He had been pushing Carlos to find out more to save his gossip-desperate soul after the radio silence during the break.

“Hey, Lando!” Carlos yells, jogging up to Lando and matching his pace.

“Hey, man! How are you doing? Had a nice break?” Lando asks, giving Carlos a quick hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I had fun. What about you?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. It was good to get some time off. I really needed it; finally got to see my friends again,” Lando grins while Carlos raises an eyebrow at the answer.

“What about your wife? Finally got to spend some time with her now that you didn’t have to travel so much?” Carlos asks.

Lando laughs awkwardly at his suggestive question, “You know it!”

Carlos ignores the casual response. “I actually saw Y/N last week, at a friend’s birthday party. Was surprised to see you didn’t come with her…”

A frown etches onto Lando’s face. “What birthday party?”

“I think she’s one of Y/N’s best friends, she turned 25?”

Lando’s eyes widen in realisation. “Fuck, yes, I remember now.”

“She told you about it?” Carlos asks, watching as Lando’s expression shifts from realisation to discomfort.

“Yeah… She mentioned it a couple of times,” he admits. “She didn’t tell me that she went...” 

Carlos lets him ponder it for a moment before adding, “Well, she was there. We talked for a bit, actually.”

Lando feels his stomach tighten. He tilts his head slightly. “What did she say?”

Carlos hesitates, glancing around the paddock while he weighs his options. “Uhm, she said you’ve been distant lately. That you haven’t been paying much attention to her, that you missed your anniversary…”

Lando stops walking. “She told you about that?”

“Yeah, man.” Carlos sighs. “Look, she didn’t go into too much detail, but… she sounded upset. Maybe you should make some time for her, take her out on a date or something. It seems like she feels pretty lonely.” 

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his heart sinks in his chest. “Lonely?” The word echoes in his mind, unsettling him. He knows the feeling all too well. He’s the reason his wife has been feeling lonely? The guilt settles deep within his soul as he mulls it over. He tries to laugh it off, but it feels hollow. “She knows how demanding the season has been. I’ve been swamped.”

“I’m sure she does, but… it’s more than that. She told me she feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.” The look on his face is serious as he says it.

Lando blinks, the weight of Carlos’ words sinking in. How could he have missed something so crucial? Why hadn’t Y/N said anything? More importantly, why hadn’t he noticed?”

“She thinks I don’t care about her?” He mutters to himself. His gaze is unfocused as he chews his lip, running a hand over his face out of frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He says quietly.

“There was no opportunity to tell you, she said. You're never home.”

Carlos lets out another sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t want your marriage to be ruined. I know you love Y/N to pieces. I would be upset with myself if you guys don’t make it out together knowing I could have done something about it. That being said, I think you should talk to her.”

Lando nods absentmindedly. He didn't even consider that they might not make it out okay. “You’re right. Thanks for telling me, man.” 

As Carlos walks away, Lando is left standing there, his mind working overtime. He had been busy, yes, but surely you understood that, right? He’d been working so hard for the both of you, to secure a future for you. But… had he been neglecting you without even realising it?

The conversation with Carlos continues to replay in his head throughout the day. Maybe he hadn’t been as attentive as he thought. Maybe all those nights out with friends, all those early mornings spent focused on racing had a bigger effect than he assumed. He tries to push the thoughts away, to justify it with the pressure of the season, but it doesn’t sit right anymore.

The rest of the weekend Carlos’ words echo through his head, ‘She feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.’ Lando can barely concentrate with the guilt that’s gnawing at his conscious. 

– – – – – 

By the time Lando leaves his hotel, he has formed a plan. He has rehearsed a dozen different apologies in his head. He’ll explain what happened, that he’s been so busy with work that he didn’t notice, and he’ll say sorry and change his behaviour. And after that, all will be well.

His plan is thrown out the window as soon as he gets home and sees his wife sitting on the couch, your face pale and tired as you watch TV. The state of you makes the practised words dry on his tongue. How could he not have noticed what was happening? 

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt lonely?” 

You look up in surprise at the abrupt question cutting through the silence. No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’, no ‘I missed you, baby’, just the sharp edge of confrontation.

“What?”

“Carlos told me you’ve been feeling lonely. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown at his directness, “When was I supposed to do that, Lando? You’re always gone.”

“That’s not true—” he tries to protest, but you cut him off.

“There was not one moment I could have told you, Lando! You’re always busy with work and when you’re not, your friends take up all your free time! You haven’t made any time for me in weeks, months even!” You yell.

Tears well up in your eyes at the confrontation. You had kept your frustrations to yourself for weeks and now that he finds out about your feelings he decides to yell at you for it. How else are you expected to react?

Your words hit Lando hard, each one landing like a punch. His eyes flicker with guilt. “I’ve been under so much pressure. The team needs me—this season could be my best chance at a championship, and I—”

You cut him off, your voice soft. “I know, Lando. I know how important your career is and that this is your chance, but that doesn’t mean all your time should be spent on racing. You’ve no time left for me anymore; all your energy is drained when I finally see you at the end of the day.”

“I can’t help that my job is demanding! You know that, Y/N. You’ve always known that. It takes a lot of time to improve, and the team is finally performing. It’s my chance at a championship! I can’t pass that up!”

“I get that Lando, I really do. But I’ve felt alone in this relationship for months now. I never see you, we never talk… The night of the party you didn’t even text me to ask where I was, or who I was with. You were already sleeping before I got home! Weren’t you worried at all? Or even curious to know where I was, whether I was safe? Sometimes… Sometimes, I doubt whether you still care about me – whether you still love me, because it feels like you don’t.” The tears slowly fall down your face while you say it.

That’s when it hits him – truly hits him. Lando swears he could hear his heart break. He looks at you in shock, and you can’t deny you feel a little better because of it. Had he really fucked up that bad? Do you really believe he no longer loves you, or cares about you? You are the most important person in his life. How could this have gone so far without him noticing? How could he have made the love of his life feel like she wasn’t loved? He runs a hand through his hair in distress, trying to wrap his head around your admission.

“I’ve been patient, Lando. I’ve been understanding, but you’re just never present. Not just physically, but mentally, too. I miss you.”

Lando looks at you sadly from across the room, disappointed in himself. He quickly closes the distance, reaching for your hand. His voice is soft when he speaks to you. “I do. I do love you, Y/N,” he says, caressing your face softly, pulling your chin up so your eyes meet, his teary eyes staring into your red ones. “You’re the love of my life. I care about you so much. You’re the most important to me, above anything else, and you always will be. Don’t forget that, okay? Promise me you’ll never forget that, baby.”

You sniffle, wiping away the tears that are slowly making their way down to your chin, while you nod. The sound physically pains him, his heart twisting torturously in his chest. He vows to never make you cry again.

“I’m so sorry I let it come this far, darling. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, trying to win, trying to be perfect for the team that I didn’t see what I was losing in the process.” 

You interrupt him, “I don’t need perfect, Lando. I just need you to be here. With me. Because if it keeps going like this… I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

Her words hang between them, and for the first time in weeks, Lando realises the gravity of what he stands to lose if he doesn’t make a change soon. He nods frantically. “Of course, baby. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. You say the word, and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t love you, because I do. So much. I can’t lose you, I don’t ever want to come this close to losing you ever again.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go; like you’ll walk away from him as soon as he does. You press your face into his chest, missing the feeling of him against you and his comforting scent. The last time he touched you, let alone hugged you feels like ages ago. 

“I’ll be better, I’ll make time for you, I promise,” he mumbles, his mouth grazing over your hair, as he tugs you impossibly closer into his tight embrace.

You smile faintly through your tears. “I believe you.”

[lvndosnorris]

riding oscar’s face and literally crying when his nose occasionally bumps your overstimulated clit (im crazy obsessed w his nose), but his hands just hold you down so you can’t squirm or move off of him. you can def feel him smiling against your clit

first oscar smut?!!! thank you anonnie <3

oscar had been begging for you to sit on his face for the past few weeks, scoffing in your direction whenever you'd argue that you'd squish him. as nonsensical as it sounded he'd settle for being between your thighs instead, hips elevated with a cushion as he'd eat like a starving man — only pulling away from you once you tugged harshly at his hair, desperate to clamp your legs together as you walked shuddered hysterically at the overstimulation he was subjecting you to.

yet you couldn't get the thought out of your mind, the mental image of you riding his face being something you couldn't get rid of. the bubbling hot in the pit of your stomach as you finally managed to swallow your insecurities and propose the idea mid-make-out, your question shaky and almost inaudible as oscar pouted playfully, "i didn't quite catch that princess, what did you say?"

and you'd raise your voice, a firm "i want to sit on your face" sounding like music to his ears as he kneaded the flesh of your ass beneath his palms. the both of you were slumped against the bed, propped up by the headboard as your fingers traced the adam's apple bobbing in your boyfriends throat as he groaned.

the sensation felt different, not what you were used to. head pushed back against the cushions oscar helped you steady yourself above him, your underwear discarded somewhere between the sheets as he stroked over your outer thighs. he could sense your wariness, peppering small kisses to your warm skin as he waited for you, patient as you took your time to finally lower yourself. your eyes fluttered, blurry as he snaked a hand between the two of you, pointer finger and middle finger spreading your cunt just enough for him to settle between your folds.

"that's it baby, i've got you..." his words were muffled, vibrations surging through your body at the sensation. oscar's tongue movements were slow, languid as he traced over your wetness. paying particular attention to your clit he moaned softly, suckling the bundle of nerves between his lips with a deliciously wet noise.

your hips rocked against him, hands gripping the headboard for leverage as you cursed his name. with a whimper you felt his mouth leave you for a split second, adjusting until his tongue lapped hungrily at your clenching hole. you were desperate, chest heaving as you felt the tip of his nose brush your puffy clit.

from the start of your relationship oscar had always put your pleasure first — whether that be worshipping you with his hands, his mouth or his cock. whatever you needed, you would get. and although he loved making you feel good in whichever way you desired, there was no denying that he loved tasting you. in fact he craved it.

your waterline was brimming with tears as you rocked against his face, the sound of oscar beneath you filling the room. the air was hot, heavy, as he mercilessly ate you; his lips parted as his tongue brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. you could tell that you'd be cumming any minute if he continued like he was, your excitement glistening on his cheeks and chin as he whined to his own tune. he worked your body perfectly, the pads of his fingers gripping your waist as he held you down, not letting you lift your hips at all for relief, "c'mon baby, give it to me— show my how good you are."

the cockiness oozed from his words and you knew that he'd have a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. you tried to respond, eyes screwed shut as you threw your head back, but words completely failed you — instead replaced with cries as the tip of his nose bumped over your clit again and again, the soreness of his jaw forgotten about as he felt you shake.

[slutforleeminho]

“i wanna try something.” you breathed out between the hot and messy kisses you were giving minho, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pulling your hips down against his clothed bulge. he was already so hard, it amazed you how you could do the bare minimum and he would be fully erect in just minutes.

“whatever you want, baby.” he looked at you with so much love and admiration. that’s how he always responded to your requests, inside and outside the bedroom. ‘whatever you want, if i have it it’s yours.’ and then he’d kiss you until you forgot what it was you were even asking of him.

“you don’t even know what it is yet. how can you be so sure that you’ll want to?” you moved away from his lips to his neck, leaving little love bites as you went. he sighed when you sucked on the little sensitive spot behind his ear.

“oh baby, it isn’t in my blood to say no to you, especially when you’re sitting on top of me like this. you could tie me down to this bed right now and take me however you wanted and i wouldn’t refuse.” his brows were furrowed and eyes screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips on his skin. he looked so fucked out, which made you wonder if he was just saying those things and not actually meaning them. but you refused to pass this moment up without at least trying. so you sat straight up, separating your top half from his. his eyes shot open and searched you face for the answer as to why you stopped. “did i say something wrong? i’m sorry, love, i didn’t-”

“no, you said exactly what i wanted to hear.” you smirked down at him, waiting for him to realize what you meant and when his eyes widened and you felt his dick twitch through his thin sweatpants you knew he understood. “would you like that? for me to cuff you this bed and have my way with you,” you asked in the most innocent voice you could, a big contrast to your words. “use you however i please.” your words went straight to his throbbing cock.

“yes. fuck, baby please.” his eyes were full of lust and anticipation, his voice so quiet and submissive that you didn’t recognize this person under you at all. you didn’t respond verbally, settling on silently removing yourself from his lap and stripping him of all remaining clothing. you didn’t get naked yourself until the pair of handcuffs you kept in your bedside table were safely securing his wrists to the bed frame above his head. when you did take your clothes off you did so very slowly, taking your time just to see him squirm. Minho didn’t take his eyes off of you once, not until you were back on top of him and the tip of his pulsing cock was pressed against your entrance. he threw his head back and sighed before he swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from falling apart beneath you. at least not so soon.

you took in everything about this moment, not wanting to forget anything about it. the way the veins that ran down his arms bulged, to the way he twitched every now and then, seemingly very worked up. his chest rising and falling violently, you’ve never seen him like this, so…. so submissive and pliant. it made you want to eat him alive. you ran your hands up his torso, feeling his hot skin against the palm of your hands. a little whine escaped his lips when you grazed his nipples with your fingernails. his hips rutted up into you, resulting in his swollen tip slipping inside of you. he gasped from the sudden stimulation and raised them higher in search of more. you took both of his nipple in between your fingers and and pinched them. he winced from the pain and looked at you with confusion all over his face.

“bad boy,” his eyes widened. “ i didn’t say you could do that.” you didn’t know why you had said that and immediately regretted it. minho was always the dominant one in your relationship, the one who called the shots, the one who called you a bad girl. and that’s why you were in complete shock when he uttered a quiet “i’m sorry.” you tried to hide your surprise the best you could and continue with your switched roles. “how will you make it up to me?” he scanned the room as if the answer was written on the walls somewhere, and apparently it was cause his eyes lit up as he quickly turned his head to look at you.

“sit on my face.”

“hmmm,” you pretended to think about it. “should i?” he quickly nodded and you chuckled at his eagerness. the thought did have you clenching so you moved up his body until your thighs were on either side of his head. his eyes sparkled as he stared at your dripping sex, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. he looked starved and he just found the perfect meal, so he lifted his head in attempt to attach his lip to your core. he only made it so far before you yanked his head back by his hair. “once again, not asking for permission,” your whole brain chemistry was altered when he basically sobbed, a little tear sliding down the side of his face. “i should punish you,” you were loving this a little too much. “but that will have to wait.” he opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off by completely sitting on his mouth. he didn’t miss a beat before devouring, running his tongue through your folds before nipping and sucking harshly on your clit. his hands were balled up into fists and pulling away from the cuffs, his biceps flexing from the strain on his muscles. the veins on his arms were protruding and you couldn’t keep yourself from running a finger over them, tracing out the greenish blue lines. his skin was on fire, almost too hot for you to touch. almost.

you mindlessly started grinding down on his tongue, riding his face for your own pleasure. you weaved your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you, chasing after the euphoric feeling you knew only he could give you. and after a few more thrusts of his tongue and sucking hard on your clit one last time, you were coming. chest heaving and moaning his name like it’s the only thing you knew. once you came down and moved off of his face minho took a deep breath of air and only then you realized you almost suffocated the poor boy. “aww i’m sorry baby, could you not breathe?” you held the side of his face, wiping away your arousal from the corner of his mouth. he was too busy trying to catch his breath to answer you but that was fine you’d get an answer out of him.

you sank down on his cock completely without so much as a warning. “ah- baby wait- i wasn’t- fuck i wasn’t ready.”

“i don’t need your permission.” you ground yourself against him. he threw his head back against the pillows and arched his back.

“if you keep going i’m gonna come. so please… stop.” he pleaded, his voice was so quiet which was very unlike him, so you knew he was telling the truth, he was about to explode.

“you want me to stop?” you went from grinding to full on bouncy on him now.

“ahh fuck i’m coming!” his eyes screwed shut, bracing himself for quite possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. only for it to be ripped away. his eyes shot open. “why’d you stop?!” he looked infuriated with you, he was so close why would you take that away from him?

“you told me to stop.” you smirked at him. “why? did you want to come? i’m so, so sorry.” you were talking to him like a baby, pouting down at him like he was a child. “well i guess we can consider that your punishment.”

“uncuff me.” he demanded. “now.”

“oh baby i’d love to.” you grinned. “ but i’m not finished with you yet.”

.

.

.

i’m back!!!!! did you miss me?

taglist: @bangchansbae @yumiblogs @fawnpeaks

[luna0713hunter]

Lover,Please stay

CEO!Sukuna is a big shot,every women and men's dream. Sometimes you wonder why he settled for someone like you.

The wine tastes bitter on your tongue as you take your first sip; wincing slightly. You've never been a fan of drinking,but when your rich boyfriend invites you out for some, who're you to say no? So you suck it up,and try to swing the drink around your glass instead of actually drinking it.

And it doesn't help that the liquor is bringing out all your doubts you've been having recently.

Instead,you try to focus on the man beside you; Sukuna is busy downing his third whiskey cause he's an absolute freak when it comes to drinking. His pink hair is out of its usually neat shape, probably because of the rough day he had at work; and you watch with careful eyes as he reaches his nibble fingers toward his tie and loses it while he throws back the last of his drink.

"you're staring."

You hum absentmindedly; hating how lightweight you are unlike your boyfriend. You've barely had a few sips for god's sake.

"and what if i am?"

But now, you're staring at the reddish liquid in your glass; your thoughts running wild in your mind. Because even if you want to; even if you desperately wish to, you cant ignore the whispers and giggles you hear from the tables near you. You cant pretend to not see the lustful gazes of the women all around you as soon as your boyfriend had stepped inside the bar.

And you surely cant not hear them giggling among themselves with nothing but vemon in their tone.

"oh my gosh,look at that hottie!!"

"hold on- is that...his partner?!"

"that cant be- i mean- look at HIM!"

"i know right?maybe he's just doing it out of pity or something?"

And you dont know if its the alcohol, or you own mind, but suddenly the bar feels too suffocating.

Too crowded. Too loud.

And its not really your fault; you've been having a shitty week, and you just wished to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. You didn't want to spend your Saturday night in a shitty bar,with some rich ass girls talking shit about you and your relationship.

And its the last straw when you hear their next words.

"oh screw it; I'm gonna hit on him! I'm sure he'd bored out his mind and need a break from his lame ass partner!"

"obviously they're not doing well; they haven't talked much since they walked in!"

So without a word,you suddenly stand up from your sit; slamming you glass hard on the wooden surface of the bar. Sukuna immediately looks your way, lips parting to say something, but you dont wait to hear what it is.

You just grab your purse and rush out of the door, almost stumbling to tables on your way out.

You think they might be laughing at you, but honestly you dont care. You just need some fresh air to cool your head.

And to stop the tears from falling on your burning cheeks.

You turn sharply in the alley just next to the bar; pressing your back to the cold wall behind as you slide down on the ground below. You hug your knees close to your chest as the first sob breaks through your lips.

God,you hate crying; specially because of what others say.

And you know; you know Sukuna's way out of your league. You know a hotshot like him can have anyone he wants,yet he settles for someone like you. You know all this, but that doesn't make it easier to hear it from others.

When you hear heavy footsteps inside the alley,you immensely start to brush your cheeks and eyes harshly; but your hands are immediately stopped midway by a pair of rough ones grabbing onto your wrists.

When you look up through teary eyes,Sukuna sighs at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blushed cheeks.

"you're such a lightweight. How much did you even drink?"

"it's not because of the drink," you mumble, pulling at your hands to which Sukuna doesn't let you, "i didnt even finish my wine."

"then why are you crying,huh?" He sighs again, raising rough fingers to brush your tears away with such care that has you tearing up again. Sukuna 'tsks' and wipes your cheeks once more, ”tell me what's wrong."

You bury your face in your knees to avoid looking at him.

"you must've heard what those women said,Ryo. Dont play dumb."

"so what?"

You snap you head up.

"so what?! doesn't that bother you??"

Sukuna scoffs, shifting slightly. His dark eyes shine even in the barely lit alleyway,and you swallow upon seeing the look on his face.

He looks utterly pissed.

"why the fuck would it bother me what a bunch of good for nothing losers say?" He hold your chin and lowers his face until you can feel the his hot breath on your lips, "nothing in this world matters. Nothing. Except you,me,and us."

When your eyes water again,Sukuna sighs presses his forehead against yours.

"the world's gonna talk shit anyways; whether we like it or not. And i dont give a shit what other's think, because nothing will change the fact that i love you."

When you look up at him with wide, bleary eyes,Sukuna scoffs and pinches your cheek rather roughly.

"dont give me that look; I've said it before."

"Well!" You grumbled through pinched cheek, "you dont say it enough!"

An evil smirk makes way on his pink lips,and your face heats up when his fingers dance across your hips.

"then," you shiver as he pushes at the hem of your dress; taking hold on your upper thigh with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "guess I'll have to show it to you, don't you think doll?"

Your eyes flutter close when he finally presses his lips to yours; and right there and then,you know Sukuna never lies about loving you. After all, he's been always a man to show his love through his actions rather than words.

[luveline]

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home 

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 

What kind of dinner my love  

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 

What’s wrong??? 

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You don’t have to rush over.” 

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 

“You’re always good company, you loon.” 

“You what?” 

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Spencer!” you laugh. 

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 

“It’s in my back.” 

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 

[yuwuta]

EAT MY WORDS, AND THEN SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE DOWN — OKKOTSU, INUMAKI

cw: choking, spit (mentioned), threesome, established relationship

Yuuta doesn’t like to share. He’s usually all or nothing, but there’s something about you and Toge that makes you both the exception to his rule. 

Maybe it’s knowing that somehow he’s found a way to have his cake and eat it, too. That he can have both of you, that you’re both his and nobody else’s, and it grants him the privilege of knowing nobody else can take either one of you away from him. 

Except for each other, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind that. He likes watching you two have each other, likes watching Inumaki tease you while you’re kissing, because he’s messy, flashes of your tongue while he sucks on it, whiny, desperate grinding of your hips against each other that are a clear ploy to hear you whine and plead, and it works every single time. Yuuta laughs a little from where he stands in the doorway to the bathroom, ruffling a towel through his damp hair and admiring how desperate you look when Toge’s hand creeps up your neck to keep you still, the perimeter of your lips slick with spit and you gasping for air and more and more and more and—“Toge, please.” 

But Toge likes to tease, and he knows that Yuuta likes to watch, and that you can take it, so he squeezes another moan out of you before kissing your nose, then your cheeks, then your neck, all open mouth and teeth and tongue. He groans between kisses, feeds off of your whining and flimsy attempts to grab at his shirt, and bites your lip a little too hard to use the distraction to push you back against the mattress. 

Yuuta finds himself blushing when Toge is on top of you, grinding his hips down to watch your squirm, steadying your writhing with a tight grip on your jaw. He can tell it hurts a little, but you can take more—he’s seen you take more, he’s seen Toge give you more, so when he uses his other hand to press his thumb against your tongue and flatten it down, Yuuta gasps along with you. 

Toge is the one who giggles now—and audible laugh that ghosts across your tongue before he licks against yours. It’s followed by a searing kiss, moving his thumb from your mouth to your cheek in loving contrast to his biting kisses. He releases his hold on your neck for just a second, just enough to let you gasp deeply for air, before it’s back, before you’re gasping again and with strained moans, and desperate, desperate hands pawing at Toge. 

“This is certainly fun to watch,” Yuuta slings the hand towel around his neck, rounding the bed as Toge sucks at your skin and gropes your tits, and your eyes screw shut at his mercy. Toge smiles against your collar when Yuuta sits on the edge of the bed next to him, pulls back and swipes his thumb across your swollen lips with wicked intent. “But now you’re just being mean.”

Inumaki merely shrugs, sitting up over your hips and turning to Yuuta, whose eyes flicker between Toge’s and yours, then to your lips, and his hand on your neck, and back to your face. He’d only caught the last few minutes of Toge’s torture, but from the state of your heaving chest, and the amount of bruises on your neck, and size of your pupils, he’d imagined that Toge had been toying with you from the moment he’d stepped into the shower. 

Yuuta grins at the thought. You let Toge get away with too much. You must like seeing him get drunk on you, too; Yuuta can’t fault you for that. 

“Hi, angel,” Yuuta reaches a hand out to cradle your face, a gentle hold that you easily lean into, “Toge being mean to you?” 

Your eyes go wide, fluttering between both boys hovering over you. There’s no right answer, but there might be a wrong one. When your eyes land on Toge again, he’s got his head cocked to the side, a single eyebrow raised, and then quietly, without room for argument he commands, “Answer him.” 

“No—no,” you gasp, immediately turning to look back at Yuuta, who smiles down at you, “I just... want more.” 

Yuuta’s thumb strokes across your cheek, then your bottom lip, until he can slide it into your mouth. He’s been told that his eyes can be intense, and it used to make him insecure, but there’s newfound confidence in the way it makes you and Toge pliant under his gaze. 

“You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” Yuuta muses when you suck on his finger, turning his head, brushing his nose against Toge before leaning into a kiss, “Poor thing.” 

They make a show of kissing each other just to tease you. Toge angles himself towards Yuuta, but makes sure to buck his hips against you to have you straining underneath him, too. The more they lick into each other’s mouths, the heavier Yuuta’s thumb presses against your tongue and you’re left gagging when Toge’s hand leaves your neck to cup Yuuta’s jaw and sucks on his tongue. 

Spit drips down their chins, filthy and wet and too much and not enough. You bend your arms to lean up against your elbows, moaning frustratedly, Yuuta’s fingers messily trailing with you. He can tell that you want to touch them, kiss them, be between them. But Toge is quick to drop a hand from his face, doesn’t even have to look your way to wrap it around your neck with practiced ease and force your back to be flush with the mattress again. 

Yuuta groans, slowly pulling away from Toge when you whine for him. And Yuuta is weak to you, so when he sees your debauched face, he can only coo, lean down and give you a careful, chaste kiss, smearing the spit across your lips when he pulls away. 

“Sorry, angel,” he apologizes, giving you another quick kiss, “Come here.” 

He helps you to sit up, back against the headboard, and Toge kneeling in front of you. Yuuta cards a hand through his hair, pulling him closer to you, not without warning, “Be nice,” before pushing him to kiss you. 

“That’s it,” Yuuta muses, sighing when you both fall into each other’s hold again, “Be good to each other.” 

It’s only Yuuta that gets to see you two like this, only him that gets to share these moments. He’ll let you belong to each other, just as long as you know you’re his, too.

[rifari2037]

The idea of her being mother figure is challenged right from episode one when Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Okay, that's right! That's spot on! I don't deny that Aang makes Katara act like a child again for a while.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Fire Nation. Sokka : We should tell him. Katara : [Yelling.] Aang! There's something you need to see. Aang : [Aang runs to them from the airball court, still playing with the hollow ball. Cheerfully.] Okay! Aang : [Happily runs up.] What is it? Katara : [Innocently holds her hands behind her back.] Uh... Just a new waterbending move I learned. Aang : Nice one! But enough practicing, [Excited as he turns around and start walking away.] we have a whole temple to see! Sokka : [Brushes the last of the snow from his head and shoulders.] You know, you can't protect him forever.

It's only the third episode, but Aang's childish attitude already makes Katara act like a mother protecting her child from reality. Katara also has to calm Aang down when he goes into avatar mode, it happens several times like it's her responsibility to do so.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Resumed filling the pot with more vegetables.] Watching you show off for a bunch of girls does not sound like fun. Aang : [Disappointed.] Well, neither does carrying your basket. Katara : [Annoyed.] It's not my basket. These supplies are for our trip. I told you, we have to leave Kyoshi soon.

This scene actually piss me off, like, if I were Katara I would mad too! And again, Aang's irresponsible and childish behaviour forced Katara to be responsible for doing the chores. If not her to be mature, who else? Sokka who is busy with his misogyny towards the Kyoshi warriors? Or Aang who is busy having fun with his fans?

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Aang ran away after someone blamed him for something he actually did a hundred years ago. Katara must find him in the storm, then help him dwelling with his past.

And it happens again in The Awakening. Aang runs away and triggers Katara's another trauma that forces her to grow up, which is being abandoned by the person she cares about (her father). Katara (Sokka and Toph) must find him and save him.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Disappointed.] Wow... there's hardly any in here. Aang : [Lashes out.] I'm sorry, okay! It's a desert cloud; I did all I could! What's anyone else doing?! [Pointing his staff at Katara.] What are you doing‌?! She returns his attack with a shocked look on her face. Katara : Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

Katara is the only one who can keep the Gaang out of the desert. If she doesn't act mature and responsible with the Gaang, they might not survive. And what does Aang do? Get mad at her for losing Appa, while Katara is not to blame for it.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Aang, we do understand. It's just ... Aang : Just what, Katara? What? Katara : We're trying to help! Aang : Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it! [Walks away.] Katara : Aang, don't walk away from this. [Walks toward Aang.]

I love Katara, you know, that's why I really don't like Aang pointing angrily at Katara and blaming her every time he got emotional, when Katara didn't do something wrong and just wants to help him. Is this a healthy relationship?

Aang reminds Katara that she's just a child in the first episode, but unfortunately, the Gaang (especially Aang) once again forces Katara to be motherly in the next episodes.

Does she like being motherly? No, she doesn't. She wants to have fun too, but if she did, the Gaang would be screwed. Being motherly is not just her nature, but the Gaang (except Suki) forces her to be more mature than the others narratively.

Actually, that's why I like the idea of Momtara and Dadko. In my opinion, this nickname is not to make her forget she is just a kid. Instead, because the narrative itself always shows Katara forced to act motherly toward Gaang, 'Momtara and Dadko' shows that is not only Katara's responsibility to do all chores.

Calling Zuko Dadko is also reasonable, because he is narratively more mature among the Gaang (except Suki). He focuses on Aang's training and worries that Aang will fail, just like what father usually do to his son.

More than that, Katara doesn't need to act motherly with Zuko - he is the one bringing her things and preparing what they need in their journey contras with what Aang did in Kyoshi Island. And they act more like equal partners toward each other, rather than mother and son.

Oh, it's true that Aang makes Katara child again in first episode. But it's weird to defend Kat/ang and hate the narrative of Katara being motherly at the same time, when the Gaang (especially Aang) often forced Katara to act motherly.

[tojikai]

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

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[slttygeto]

cw: fuckbuddy! hanma, fem! reader, fingering.

“where are you going?” you almost don’t hear the question with how focused you are on getting your earring inside the damn hole—ugh. frustrated, you inhale sharply before glancing towards the man sitting on your bed through your vanity mirror. “I already said, a work dinner.”

“okay but where?”

hanma was annoying, he was persistent—but he wasn’t a partner. he wasn’t a lover, a boyfriend—whatever you’d call a man who wants to be in a committed relationship with you. it just wasn’t hanma, and you were okay with it!

you two were fuckbuddies who hung out more than either of you want to admit, you consoled each other with sex—doggy, against the wall, mating press, and sometimes when you were feeling generous you’d sit on the bed between his muscular thighs and play with his dick until he came on your face. before him, you would always hesitate to let a man eat your pussy or be face to face with it—hanma got rid of whatever shame you felt by making you grind your swollen clit against his nose.

you two were freaky sure, but outside of sex you knew not to ask too many questions about his personal life and so did he. so why was he persistent on knowing where you were going?

shuji’s eyes trail over the sight of your bare back, the dress you were wearing was…tempting. yeah, right it was just tempting! obviously it didn’t bother him that you were wearing such a revealing dress for a night out with your co-workers and he couldn’t come.

“none of your business, since did you get so curious?” and he didn’t know whether it was your attitude or your pretty lips saying it, or perhaps the way your manicured nails reached for the high heels or how your boobs were threatening to spill out of your dress—but he could feel something burning in the pit of his stomach.

jealousy.

people will think you don’t have anyone in your life, people won’t know that as soon as you come back to your place he’s going to ravish you, he was going to dig his fingers into your skin and leave bruises, he was going to make you squirt on his dick and have your thighs tremble around his head.

“it’s just that i’m gonna miss you,”

“i’m only gonna be gone for a few hours.” you say with a deadpan as you grab your purse.

“you don’t need a ride?” he sits up straight on your bed and his golden eyes follow your figure as you retreat to the bathroom to check your makeup again.

“nu-uh, a co-worker is gonna pick me up on her way.”

you don’t hear him creeping up behind you, screw him and his line of work. you are startled when you see his reflection in the mirror behind you, large hands squeezing your sides and his eyes shamelessly stare at your bare back and ass, the way the dress accentuates it is driving him crazy and you cannot deny that you were enjoying seeing him like this, so close to losing it.

“what?”

“it’s the dress that I got you,” he points out, his hand caressing your bare back, a finger tracing your spine and when you arch away from him, his grip on your hip tightens and he brings you back roughly against his bulge.

“well, I like your taste in dresses,” you mumble, trying your best to hide how hot and bothered you were by his behavior. whatever it was painted on his face, whatever emotion he was displaying—you liked it.

“mhm, so do I.” a large hand smacks your ass cheek, and his eyes lock with yours through the mirror when you gasp loudly at the spank.

oh no.

oh no no no—you can’t.

“stop,” your hand grips his wrist. “stop it, I have to go.”

“I won’t take long.” his lips find your bare nape and you gasp again.

“no! you liar, I can’t— you’ll ruin my makeup!” you whine when his hand finds your neck and he squeezes it gently, fingers feeling your quickening pulse.

“I just wanna taste you,” his lips then fine your ear and he kisses you there as his other hand starts to make it its way under your dress.

he moves your panties to the side, and he laughs against your ear at how drenched you are. the hand around your neck keeps you in place, forces you to stare at him in the mirror and his expression as he finds your clit and teases it over its hood. his slender fingers then part your pussy lips with much ease and you can feel the tip of his middle and ring finger teasing your entrance.

“I have to go,” you whine out weakly and shuji hums, delivering a quick kiss to your hot cheek.

“soon,”

his fingers fuck you within an inch of your life, the force he uses has you jerking up with each thrust and your mouth falls open everytime the palm of his hand brushes against your clit. you were so fucking pretty, so pliable and all his—all his to fuck and finger like this, all his to ruin.

“oh my-oh my god,” you moan out loud, the hand that was on the sink holding onto his wrist. “oh fuck! shuji—!” he holds you as you cum all over his fingers, your hips jerking and voice going all high pitched as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. it’s a sight to see, your half lidded eyes, the fucked out look on your face and most importantly the cum that was coating his fingers.

shuji pulls out his fingers and brings them up to his lips, lewdly sucking and tasting the remnants of your orgasm before giving you a kiss to your forehead.

“there, didn’t ruin your makeup.”

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

New Routine Comfort

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> You work with the Tornado Wranglers and have done for a couple of years, but being newly single means you need to find a new routine and Tyler might just be the person to help.

Disclaimer: Mentions and appearance of a cheating asshole ex, Tyler and Reader are more co-workers than anything until that eventually changes..., swearing, love confessions, use of "Sweetheart" from the Cowboy Scientist, two-stepping, teaching to dance, mostly fluff, little angst, and the Cowboy Hat Rule (..kinda..) Not Proof Read.

When you joined the Tornado Wranglers, you joined at the request of Boone. They needed someone who could capture more footage than either him and Lily got and, since they had raised so much for families that had suffered from extreme tornado weather, they wanted to make it more permanent. 

Which was where you came in. You could help with footage collection, fundraisers, social media pages, editing and a couple other things. The rest of the team helped where they could, but you managed it well. 

However, this did mean that you didn’t see the team as much as you’d like save from the videos they sent you and the group chat Boone had added you into. 

However, it was one night sitting in a local watering hole that you found yourself growing closer to one of the Wrangler’s in particular. 

Tyler Owens. 

There was a week here and there that you’d join the team storm chasing each season. Except, this year’s week of you joining them on the road couldn’t have fallen at a worse time. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna sit here all night drowning your sorrows in crappy beer?”

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

Boone tilted his head. “Oh, not the head tilt. Please.”

“Come on, Y/n. He was an asshole. Forget about him.”

“Little hard to forget when I was the one to walk in and catch them,” you looked back at your beer bottle. The label was practically torn to shreds from where you’d been scratching at it. “It’s like it’s burned into the back of my eyelids.” You took a long swig of your beer. 

Just a little over two months ago, you’d watched as your relationship of three years burst into a ball of flames. You’d come home, smiling as you texted the Wrangler’s telling them the company you’d been pestering for a large donation that, with their track record, would put them out of pennies, had not only agreed to donate but also to host and bring all of their more-than-wealthy partners to the event. 

Only, as you called through the door for your boyfriend, you heard a noise. Had he fallen?

Then you found the trail of clothes leading into the kitchen before another one made its way up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

“Have you tried thinking of something else? Maybe watching a horror movie?”

You nodded. “Apparently finding your partner cheating on you in your own bed, and subsequently finding out they’d been doing that for over a year…is the scariest thing for me.”

“Well…screw him! He never deserved you! And you deserve a good night! And some decent beer.”

You gave a slight smile. “Boone. I like my drink.”

And it was true. You did.

You watched as he grimaced and picked up the other beer bottles. “Don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

And away he went back to the dance floor with the others. And you turned back to your drink, your thumb still scratching away at the label. 

An hour or so later, Tyler’s eyes found you in the crowd at the bar once more. He’d watched you all night. He’d watched you for the last two weeks if he was being completely honest with himself. 

Since you joined the team, he saw you maybe for two weeks across the entire year. One week storm chasing, and the next seven days scattered throughout the rest of the year. But when he found out of Boone you’d be joining the team for most of the chasing season, something sparked inside of Tyler. 

He was glad to have you aboard, of course. He might not have known that much about you, but he knew you well enough to know you joining the team for longer than a week meant something was wrong. 

And once you arrived, it took him three days to finally figure out why. 

“Are you sure she’s okay?”

Lily looked behind her, following Tyler’s gaze. Though, she could guess who it was. “Y/n? Oh, yeah. She’ll be fine. She’s hurtin’ right now, but she’ll be okay. Dude was an ass! Glad he’s gone.”

Tyler had met him only a handful of times but he could agree with Lily. He was an ass. An ass to you and an ass for letting you go. 

But, as Tyler watched you, he saw something in you change. You’d gone from slouched on the bar stool to…alert. And nervous. 

Confused, he followed the direction of your eye-line until he saw…

Him. 

Stood with some blonde who couldn’t stop giggling into his chest as his arms were wrapped around her in such a way he was being possessive whilst trying to show her off. 

And it was at that moment Tyler realised he wasn’t the only one watching you anymore. Because your ex had spotted you. 

“No.” Dani and Boone told him as the bottom of his chair scraped the wooden floor. “No, let her handle this. She needs this.”

Tyler didn’t look convinced. So, Lily added. 

“And if she’s not ready, then you can go. But they’re right. Let her handle it.”

So, reluctantly, Tyler sat back down. But he was itching to stand. He was itching to be at your side. 

But you handled it. 

Your ex approached you, and he seemed to make some kind of asshole comment about you. You didn’t seem pleased. Then everything about you…became fake. 

One look around you made you realise there were plenty of people still left inside the bar. More than when you had entered with the team, even. If you caused a scene, you’d get kicked out. And your team would follow. But it had been a long week. They deserved a good night. 

So you took it. You took his comments about smiling more, and setting him free and his thank yous for showing him he could have ‘something more with’ whoever the Blonde was waiting at the end of the bar for him. 

And when he patted your arm, you could have thrown up. You never wanted him to touch you again. You’d told him as much when he tried to hug you, not ten minutes after being caught having sex with someone else. 

And when he finally walked away…you wanted to run. But you had no energy left. Seeing him again zapped it all. You had been in love with him once, and believed he felt the same about you. All the memories of your relationship flashed behind your eyelids, before going back on themselves. The pictures told you of the lies he’d made in the last year you’d been with him. 

Tyler watched as your entire body sighed before you started counting the cash in your pocket to leave for your bill.

Your ex didn’t get to ruin your night by being here. He didn’t get to take away your happiness, or your freedom to have fun in your bar. 

“Okay, come on.”

You looked to your side and found Tyler stood there. He took your hand in his and dragged you with him. 

“Tyler!”

“No, no.” Turning to face you as he finally reached the dance floor, he kept his eyes on yours. “He doesn’t get to take your night away. Fuck that asshole.”

“That’s my problem. I did fuck that asshole. And then he fucked someone else.”

“Then let him.” Tyler told you. “You deserved better than him, anyway. You still do. Do you know how to dance?”

You were in shock. You and Tyler were never exactly close. Sure, you’d talked over text, but that was mostly in the Group unless you needed to contact him directly for something about a fundraiser or an appearance at a school to help students when it came to Tornado warnings. 

After a moment, you shook your head. 

He gave a curt nod and stepped closer to you. “That’s okay. I can teach you. Is it okay if I put my hand here?”

You looked to see where he meant. It was around your back. You nodded. 

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me. I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”

With one hand in his and your other on his arm, your eyes fell to the floor as you mirrored his steps. “I think you’re underestimating my two left feet.”

Tyler smiled with a small chuckle, and pulled you a little closer before tilting your chin up until your eyes met his. “Eyes on me, Sweetheart. I promise, I won’t let you trip. And nobody can be a worse dance partner than Boone.”

“You’ve danced with Boone?”

“Somebody had to teach him how to dance. I think my feet are still bruised.”

You smiled. “I’ll try and not make them worse.”

Tyler smiled as your eyes found his own, again. You were relaxing into the music. You were trusting him to take the lead. And before you knew it, the pair of you were two-stepping further into the dancefloor, a bright smile shared between the both of you. 

Four songs, two line dances, and one group square dance later, you found yourself back in the comfort of Tyler’s arms as he held his hand out to you from where you had both sat down at the table. 

With a nod and a genuine smile, you took hold of his hand and let him lead you towards the middle of the dancefloor. Tonight might have been the first time you’d both danced together, but somehow, it felt familiar. Routine. To be in his arms, to have his hand in yours, to have only him in front of your eyes and in your mind as you both softly danced to the slow song that played from the Jukebox Band on stage. 

“Thank you,” you found yourself saying. 

Tyler lifted his head from yours to look at you, and you did the same. “What do you mean?”

“I was about to go home. I would have spent the next twenty-four hours wanting to be alone and depressed. Instead, you did something else no-one has ever done.”

“And what is that?”

You felt yourself laugh a little. “Taught me to dance.”

Tyler’s mouth broke out into a smile before he took your hand and spun you around and back in. “You’re very welcome, but if I’m being honest, I might have had my own reasons. I need my own dance partner and, as much as I love the guy, Boone isn’t the most graceful.”

“So you’re calling me ‘graceful’? Have to say, that’s never been a word people have used to describe me.”

“Really?” Tyler sounded genuinely shocked. “All because you couldn’t dance?”

You felt a small blush heat under your cheeks. “Maybe I was in need of the right partner.”

Tyler felt himself blush. “Maybe you were. But I’d still call you graceful. I don’t know what people have described you as, but- if you don’t mind me saying.”

You shook your head. Coming from him, something in you didn’t mind a bit. In fact, you wanted to know. 

“I think you’re so much more than whatever people tell you.” 

When his gaze locked on yourself, you felt the rest of the room disappearing. 

“You’re beautiful. In your mind, in your heart and in your soul.”

You could feel your heart beginning to race. 

“Nobody should ever make you feel anything less than that. You’re an incredible human being, Y/n. We’re lucky to have you. I-”

Tyler felt the words catch in his throat. He didn’t want to scare you away. But he needed to tell you. He wanted to tell you. 

“I’m lucky to have you.”

You smiled as you watched Tyler. He was one of the kindest men you’d ever met. Maybe he had a wild side, but that was what made him so good at his job. Beneath all of the adrenaline chasing, Tyler had a heart and soul unlike any other. He loved his team, his family, his job and his life. 

Slowly, leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m lucky to have you, too.”

Tyler smiled and slowly, the rest of the room started to fade back in, slowly. 

“You should come out with us more. Who knows? You might just catch the bug for chasing Tornados?”

You smiled. “Boone has been trying to get me to come chasing for years. What makes you think I’ll change my mind now?”

Tyler smiled. “We’ll go out tomorrow. The data is showing a small EF-1. Just me and you. After all, you can’t stay in the van forever.”

Tyler could tell by your smile you were deliberating it. 

“You know,” you started. “Boone isn’t going to be happy we’re chasing without him.”

Tyler smiled. You had agreed. “I’ll make it up to him.”

Your smile settled onto your face. “Okay then. But just this one.”

Tyler nodded as you both slowly turned around in a circle. “We’ll see.”

Two months later, you’d been more chases than you could count. That morning Tyler had taken you out in his truck, there was a chance you could have called him an asshole (in a slightly more affectionate term) as he drove towards the tornado. 

You’d edited hours of footage but being the one in the passenger seat was something else. 

But the minute you looked up and out of the window and back to him…something changed. Something changed between you and storm chasing. Something changed between you and your job. Something changed between you and Tyler. 

Boone, once he’d been cleared of his hangover, wasn’t happy about being left out from a chase. But Tyler found a way to make it up to him. And since you left Boone to sit in the front for most of the chases, had you made it up to him, too. 

Sometimes you’d stay in the truck with Dexter and Dani but it was becoming much more routine for you to sit in the back of Tyler’s truck as he drove into another tornado. 

And on the rare opportunity. Boone would give you his seat beside Tyler in the truck. You’d get better pictures for socials that way. At least, that was his excuse. It definitely wasn’t to give the Live Feed viewers what they wanted, which was more of you and Tyler together. 

But in those two months, things had just been…teetering. You knew you felt something for Tyler, but you were too scared to let your feelings known in case he didn’t feel the same. At the end of the day, you loved your job and the team. You didn’t want to give them up because of a school girl crush you had on the Cowboy Tornado Wrangler. 

But the others saw the way Tyler looked at you, too. They’d seen it since he first met you. He never made a move considering you were in a relationship, but that didn’t stop his feelings from growing when he saw you or saw your name pop up on his phone. 

And since you started actually chasing with him…he was a goner. 

He looked at you like you hung the moon, and you looked at him in the exact same way. But apparently only the team and the comments section of the videos could see it. 

“I can’t believe the season’s almost over.”

Tyler shook his head. “We’ve still got a month or so left.”

“I know, but…I’m really enjoying it.”

He smiled proudly. “Told you you’d catch the bug.”

You and Tyler, like every weekend, had found yourselves back in each other's arms on the dancefloor, two-stepping along to another song. And being back in his arms was like your two left feet had disappeared. 

It might have also helped you’d both practised in your hotel rooms over the last couple of months. For the last month, you’d both been sharing a room since every motel that Boone and Lily found only seemed to have so many rooms left. And with the others bunking together, it left you and Tyler together. 

“I got a call, by the way. A school just outside of Wichita is wondering if you and the team will come down and talk to the kids. Most of them have seen your videos, but a lot of them are scared and the city’s local ‘what to do in a Tornado’ has scared them all half to death.”

Somehow, Tyler had this magic about him. Whenever he and the team went into school to explain about Tornados, all the kids walked away a hell of a lot less scared than they were when they walked in. In fact, most of them walked away talking to their parents about meteorology and the science behind a Tornado. 

“Of course we will.”

You smiled. “Good. Because I already said yes.”

He figured you might have done. “When do they want us there?”

“As soon as you're available.”

“We could go after this next chase? There might be an EF-3 in the next couple of days. I want to make sure people are safe.”

You nodded with a smile. “We can go after, then.”

Soon the song came to an end. “I’m gonna get a drink, want one?”

Tyler nodded as he let go of your hand and he went towards the team’s booth. “Please.”

Ordering your drinks, you waited for them to be ready. Only, as you did so, you felt the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There was a familiar smell in the air and it made your entire skin crawl. 

Then you saw him. 

“Aren’t you meant to be in a mourning period or some shit?”

You were taken aback by his abruptness. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve been broken up for less than six months then I come in here and see you trying to flirt your way into some guy’s pants.”

“What? Like you and her over there? Tell me, is she the one from during me, or after me?”

“You bitch. She’s my girlfriend.”

“And that’s different?”

You ex stood straighter and hissed. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s my girlfriend. He’s just- What? You’re fuckbuddy?!”

Before you could answer, you felt a much more comforting presence behind you followed by his voice and a hat being placed on your head. 

“Boyfriend, actually.”

You turned your head and looked at Tyler who just winked and you relaxed into his arm that laid across your shoulders. 

“And I don’t appreciate you calling her a bitch.”

“How long have you been fucking him?!”

Then Tyler stepped in front of you. The hand on his back let him know he’d done the right thing. 

“You’re done talking to her now. You’re gonna talk to me. Better yet, you’re gonna listen. The biggest mistake you ever made was thinking you could find anyone better than her. Now, I’m sure your girlfriend loves you very much and I think she came out here to enjoy her evening like everyone else and doesn’t want to be kicked out with her boyfriend who’s just been given a black eye.”

“Are you threatening me? You can’t threaten-”

Then Tyler’s voice lowered, making the conversation strictly between himself and your ex. 

“The minute that hat touched her head, it let everyone know who she’s with and considering I know the owners here, them and everyone in this bar will protect her over some scumbag like you. And unless you’d like to spend a night in a cell with the County Sheriff, I suggest you and your girlfriend find some other place to have a drink and you never even think about my girl again. Do I make myself clear?”

One look around the bar to see if anyone else had seen or heard what had gone on let your ex know they had. And from the looks of the patron's faces, they were more than ready to defend both you and Tyler against the asshole standing in front of him. 

“Whatever, Dude.” Walking away, he called out for his girlfriend, grabbed her hand and walked towards the door, constantly looking over his shoulder. Especially after one of the owners followed him out of the door and watched him load himself into his car. 

Once the owner walked back inside and gave a curt nod to Tyler, everyone went back to normal and Tyler turned back around to face you. 

“I’m sorry if-”

“Thank you.”

Tyler was expecting you to tell him off, or yell at him. Say something that made sure he knew never to do that again unless you asked. 

“What-”

“Nobody has ever done that for me before and, if I’m being honest, I was 90% sure he would have done more than just yell at me whilst I was here. So, thank you.”

“I meant what I said. You should never let anyone make you feel less than what you are. You’re beautiful, Y/n. Inside and out.”

You smiled and turned towards one of the beer bottles that had been placed in between you and Tyler in order to hide the blush of your cheeks. “Nice touch, by the way. With the hat.”

There was a slight twinkle in Tyler’s eyes along with his semi-confused and intrigued look. 

“You know about the hat?”

“You explained it to him, didn’t you?”

Then he realised. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Right.” And nervously took a long swig of his own drink. 

But then you removed it from your head. “You’re gonna want this back.”

And for a moment, Tyler held it in his hand, deliberating on what he wanted to do, vs what he should do. 

He shook his head and handed it back to you. “Keep it. In case he thinks about coming back.”

“I don’t think he will.”

“Well, if he does. He’ll get the message.”

It took you a moment, but keeping your eyes on his, you placed the hat back on your head. Tyler swallowed another gulp of his drink and turned to face you before he fixed the hat on your head. 

“Better?” You asked. 

Tyler nodded as he looked away. He had to hide his blush somehow. “It suits you.”

Then the next song came on. 

“Come on, let's dance.”

Taking Tyler’s hand, you dragged him back to the dancefloor. 

By the end of the night, you all walked back towards the motel considering it was only a block or two away. Down the road, Lily and Boone were giving each other piggy-back rides, Dani was listening to Dexter talk about everything he knew about Tornados and where Tyler would usually be on his own at this point in the night, he found you right next to him, still wearing his hat. 

“Careful.” 

Tyler took your hand in his as he pulled you away from a deep puddle in the path. 

“Thanks.”

When you’d both finally made it to dry concrete, your hand never left Tyler’s. 

“What are you thinking about? You look like you’re in deep conversation with yourself under that hat.”

You broke into a small smile. “I am.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing important,” you shook your head. 

“Try me.”

Looking at Tyler, you took in a breath and looked back at the sidewalk. “Okay. I’m thinking about what to do.”

“About what?”

You stopped in your tracks and looked at where your hand was interlinked with Tyler’s. Then you looked him in his eyes. 

“I know you were just helping me before, with my ex and…everything. But…”

Shit. You cursed yourself over and over again. But you didn’t want to waste any more time in your life. 

Just spit it out. You told yourself. 

“Is..is there a world…maybe…where…” You took in a tough breath. “Where would you want something more?”

“Something more?”

You cursed yourself for a whole other reason now. You’d dug your grave this far. Might as well hope for it to collapse on top of you. 

“Something more between…us?”

The next ten seconds were the longest ten seconds of your life. You were pretty sure you’d died three lifetimes over by the time you felt like you were back in your body again. 

“You know what, forget I said-”

“Yes.”

You felt yourself physically stall. “What?”

“Yes. I want something more. There is a world where I want something more. And it’s this one.”

You didn’t know what to say. The others were long down the street so it was just you and Tyler. 

“I…I don’t know what to say from here. I wasn’t expecting to actually say anything.”

Tyler smiled and stepped a little closer to you. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

“Where do we go from here?”

Tyler thought about it for a moment before looking around. “Come with me.”

Tyler dragged you back down the street, over the puddle and towards a small field just off the side of the road. 

“Tyler, what are you doing?”

“Getting rid of the light pollution.” 

You felt yourself laugh. “What for?”

He pulled you a little further out into the field before the lights faded away over the hedge and all you were left with was the blanket of stars above you and Tyler. And, being back in the comfort of his arms, he danced you around a small patch of wildflowers. 

“Neither of us knew what to do, so I’m taking you on a date. Usually, we would have gone for dinner or I would have brought something with us but since we’ve done that part without knowing where we’d end up…I’m skipping to the end a little.”

“So you’re saying, for our first date, you would have packed a picnic and we would have gone stargazing? That’s…incredibly romantic.”

“Think it’s corny?” Tyler asked and then he laughed. “You think it’s corny.”

Your eyes narrowed a little. “Maybe. Just a little. But, I love it.”

There was no one else. It was just you and Tyler, dancing, under the stars. 

“I do have one question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you have kissed me at the end of the date? Would we have danced under the stars then and would you have kissed me?”

“Now who’s the corny one.”

You blushed a little and laughed. “I’m serious. I’d need to know if you were a good kisser. Couldn’t wear my cowboy’s hat and not enjoy kissing him, too. And before you say anything, I know that might not be the rule. But it does come as a part of mine.”

Tyler felt most if not all of his face turn red at the thought. When you had asked him in the bar…you already knew. He was glad there were no bright street lights surrounding either of you right now. 

“Well, then, since you’re already wearing my hat…I can’t start breaking the rules now…”

With another smile, Tyler’s hand cradled your head as he pressed his lips to yours, letting his free hand hold you flush against him by the waist. 

By the time he pressed a final small kiss to your lips, with his forehead against yours, you felt your lungs scratching your chest to breathe. 

“Yep, definitely didn’t break any rules.”

Tyler let a chuckle leave his chest. “Come on, we should get back. Before the others start wondering where we got to.”

Boone and Lily had had too many beers to be left unsupervised. Last time Tyler had left either of them alone, they’d somehow chalked out an entire Tornado on the side of a motel wall. Even if it was exquisite, the motel owner wasn’t the happiest of people to see it. 

“Okay. But we’re doing this again.”

“What? The date, the kiss or the dancing?”

“All of the above.”

Tyler smiled and reached down, lifting his hat from the ground before placing it back on your head. “Good, because I wasn’t finished.”

With a smile that hurt your cheeks, Tyler took your hand in his and you both hurried your way back down the road, over the puddle and towards the motel where you both found Boone and Lily playing a very terrible version of hide-and-seek. 

But something that neither missed was the way yours and Tyler’s hands were intertwined between you both, or that in the morning and the mornings after, you and Tyler rarely left each other's side. 

And neither of you had to be pushed to share a room. 

It became a routine. Along with the dancing, kissing and storm chasing. 

And when the third teacher hit on him at the elementary school he was talking at, despite you finding it a little funny watching him try and shut down each woman with kindness that left them just wanting him more, he proved his point in front of the faculty and his team (even if they already knew) by giving you the millionth kiss of a lifetime from him, with his hat upon your head. 

[loulovingho]

prompt: the rest of the 118 see tommy and buck be affectionate together for the first time. not just the aftermath, like with the wedding kiss, but they actually witness it. cuteness overload!

It took a few weeks for everything to calm down enough for everyone to get together.

The 118 was adjusting to working under Captain Gerrard.

Bobby and Athena were adjusting to moving into an apartment half the size of their house.

Hen and Karen were adjusting to visits with Mara every chance they could get.

Chimney and Maddie were adjusting to having two young girls running around the house.

Eddie was adjusting to being alone.

And Buck was less adjusting and more enjoying his new romance with Tommy.

He didn't mention Tommy much at work. He got sick of Gerrard's one-off comments pretty quickly. Usually, he would have been egging him on every chance he got, but it turns out he was more protective of Tommy than he originally realized, and anytime his name came out of Gerrard's mouth it made him want to punch the man.

It was easier to not bring him up.

When Bobby and Athena had finally settled into their new place, which very conveniently had a grilling and picnic area on the roof, they invited everyone over.

Bobby made sure to include Tommy in his invitation. His and Buck's relationship may have been new, but he was an old friend to the majority of the 118, and a new friend to those he hadn't known all that long.

He did not include the fact that Athena was insistent on seeing their dynamic because, “One of them is gonna give the other a run for their money and I can't figure out which one's which yet.”

In fact, the majority of the group was interested in seeing Tommy and Buck together. Everyone except Eddie, who accidentally witnessed far too much of their dynamic a couple weeks ago when he decided to head into Buck's place without knocking first.

It would be the last time he ever made that mistake.

The others couldn't help their curiosity. It was the first time Buck had ever seemed so settled in a relationship. The first time he wasn't asking for near-constant advice. The first time he wasn't endlessly concerned he was doing something wrong or about to screw things up.

Something was different. Something had shifted. They wanted to know what it was.

And while Hen and Chimney had known Tommy for a long time, they hadn't exactly stayed in touch after he left. Up until the cruise rescue, Hen hadn't really spoken to him at all, and Chimney would send him a text or two each year just to ask how he was keeping up. The Tommy they knew was closeted, scared, defensive under Gerrard's leadership, cocky, and seemingly always searching for something... more.

“I'm kinda bummed,” Buck said as they headed up to the roof.

“What?” Tommy glanced at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because everyone already knows you,” he explained. “I can't introduce you as my boyfriend.”

Tommy smiled, eyes crinkling up in the cute way Buck loved. He switched the wine bottle he was holding to his other hand took Buck's hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You can still do that, if you want. I mean, they might look at you funny, but who cares, right?”

Buck squeezed his hand back. After a moment, he gasped, eyes widening as he did a little jump. “I can introduce you to all the kids!” he exclaimed.

Tommy couldn't help but laugh at Buck's excitement. “That sounds perfect, Evan.”

*****

Bobby wasn't sure how they'd gotten to this point only five minutes into Buck arriving, but here they were. Before Tommy had even handed off the wine, Buck was going into a story on Gerrard mentioning the 1933 Griffith Park Fire, but he had been wrong about some information.

“And I was trying to tell him how twenty-nine people died, not twenty-seven, but he was insistent that I was wrong. I knew I wasn't. I had just spent a couple hours the other night reading over articles about it. When was it, Tommy?” he asked, turning to his boyfriend, “Two nights ago?”

“Uh, three. Three nights ago.”

“Right, three nights ago. See, two people died later at the hospital, so they weren't included in the initial death toll. So, obviously, I had to get online and show him...”

As Buck continued, Bobby nodded along, trying to take in at least some of what he was saying. Sometimes, when Buck got on tangents like these, it was hard to keep up.

As the discussion got more heated, Bobby noticed Tommy's hand drifted to Buck's back, resting at the base. Buck continued without missing a beat, but his voice calmed and his posture relaxed.

“Did he ever admit defeat?” Tommy asked. To Bobby's surprise, Tommy had kept his eyes on Buck the entire time. He seemed genuinely interested in every word that was coming out of Buck's mouth.

Buck shook his head. “No, he'd never do that. But he was quiet for the rest of the day, so I took it as a win.”

“Oh, that's definitely a win,” Tommy agreed.

Not that he ever doubted, but it was then that Bobby knew his initial analysis was correct. Tommy was good people, and he was good for Buck.

*****

Hen's eyes drifted over the rooftop, settling between Tommy and Buck. She had noticed earlier how they always seemed to gravitate toward each other. Now was no different. Even though they were on opposite sides of the roof, Buck talking to Maddie, and Tommy having a very expressive conversation with Jee, they would steal glances at each other. A smile here, a wink there. Buck even gave Tommy a little wave, like they hadn't been sitting side by side only five minutes ago.

“I don't think it's just the honeymoon phase for those two,” Athena said, scooting a chair closer to Hen before sitting down.

Hen rolled her eyes affectionately at yet another tiny wave from Buck before turning to Athena. “I think I agree. I've never seen Buck so smitten before, and I don't use that word often.”

“Mhm,” Athena hummed with a nod. “Tommy seems just as smitten as Buck. I don't ever remember him looking so peaceful before. I haven't worked with him much since he transferred to Harbor, but I remember what he was like before.”

Hen huffed out a laugh. “Arrogant?”

“And stiff.”

“Yeah. He changed a lot, especially after Gerrard left, but this is different.”

They kept watching as Jee got distracted by Mara and they ran off to play. Tommy walked over to Buck, who held out his hand for Tommy to take before Tommy was even close.

As soon as he could, Tommy took his hand and sat down beside him on the little couch. Buck leaned in close, whispering something in his ear, then they laughed deep and loud.

“If I watch anymore of this I'm gonna throw up,” Hen said, standing up. “I'm gonna go rescue Karen from whatever game Denny is showing her on his phone.”

Athena laughed, squeezed Hen's hand as she went by, but kept her attention on the boys.

She couldn't seem to look away.

*****

Maddie tapped Chimney's thigh, nodding toward where Buck and Tommy were standing in a corner of the rooftop, watching the sunset. They had their arms wrapped around one another, occasionally stealing a chaste kiss. “They look so happy,” she said, a warm smile on her face.

“Yeah, they do,” Chimney agreed. “I'm happy for both of them. They're good together.”

“Yeah, they are. Did you know Buck hasn't even been to his loft in a week? When he's not working he's at Tommy's place.”

“And they're not sick of each other yet?” Chimney laughed. “Oh, they're in deep.”

Before Maddie could respond, Eddie was coming up to them, kneeling down beside Chimney. “We gotta hide the clipboards.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm serious, man, we're gonna be in deep trouble if we don't.”

Maddie leaned forward. “Why do you need to hide the clipboards, Eddie?”

Eddie motioned to Buck and Tommy. Tommy had an arm around Buck's shoulder now, both of Buck's still wrapped around Tommy's waist. He had his head resting against Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy pressed a kissed to the top of his head. “Have you seen the two of them? I'm not even gonna go into what I witnessed a couple weeks ago-”

“Thank God.”

“-but they've got it bad for each other. I give it six months before they're engaged. You know what happens after that?”

Chimney thought for a second, sucking in a breath when the realization hit him. “Wedding planning.”

“Wedding planning,” Eddie repeated.

Maddie shook her head. “You guys are crazy.”

“What? You don't think they'll be ready to walk down the aisle in six months time?” Chimney asked.

“Oh, no, they definitely will. You're just crazy if you think not being able to find a clipboard will stop him. I don't know if you guys know this, but Notes app Buck is far worse than clipboard Buck.”