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d-z20 · 7 months ago

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A Favour Owed (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You get caught in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin, when Rio Vidal comes to the rescue. In exchange for her help, she asks for a favour with a mischievous glint in her eyes -OR- Rio walks you home in the rain and later cashes in the favour to take you home and fuck you silly (Modern AU)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, more smut, a little bit of fluff at the end, Top Rio, Dom Rio, bratty(ish) reader, even more smut, R receiving: fingering, strap, bondage, blindfolding, light choking

Words: 4.0k

A/N: I planned out the rest of my Agathario backstory and it’s broken my heart so I've countered it by writing this. It is a healthy way to cope and you cannot tell me otherwise.

AO3 link my loves <3 | Master List

It’s pouring rain by the time you leave work, the sky dark and brooding as you step outside. You don’t even make it half a block before the downpour hits, drenching you in seconds. You duck under the awning of a nearby café. Already soaked through, hair dripping, you curse yourself for not checking the weather before you left the office. The wide-legged jeans cling uncomfortable to your legs, heavy with water, and the cropped olive cardigan you thought would be perfect for the chill now feels like a poor choice, offering little protection against the rain. Your white tee, once neatly tucked, is now plastered to your skin and slightly see-through. Cursing the cheap fabric, you glance around at the empty street, your teeth starting to chatter as the cold settles in.

As you stand there shivering, you notice someone approaching through the sheets of rain—a figure in all black, moving with a confident stride. It’s only when she steps closer that you realise it’s Rio Vidal, her umbrella held high above her head. You’ve seen her at the gym more times than you can count, occasionally sharing a class. You’ve exchanged a few nods and maybe a smile or two, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone. You don’t expect her to stop now, not in this weather. But then she sees you, and for a moment, you think she’s just going to walk on by.

But she pauses when she spots you, her expression unreadable as her eyes flick over your drenched figure. You can tell she’s about to keep going—there’s a split second where she looks away, like she’s debating whether she cares enough to stop. Then she rolls her eyes, heaves a dramatic sigh, and steps under the awning with you.

“Really?” she drawls, tilting her head as she looks you up and down, eyes lingering at the sight of your bra showing through the now definitely see-through top. “No umbrella?”

You shrug, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t realise I had to expect a monsoon today.”

Her lips twitch into a smirk, and she shakes her head. “Clearly.” Without another word, she shifts under her umbrella, angling it so it covers both of you. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

You fall in step beside her, matching her pace as you make your way down the rain-soaked street. It was awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm without bumping into each other. You make a bit of small talk, mostly about the weather, but then Rio starts teasing you, throwing out little jabs at your lack of preparedness, and you find yourself laughing despite the rain soaking through your clothes.

“Do you always go out unarmed in a storm?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I like to live dangerously,” you grin.

“Oh, is that what this is?” she retorts dryly. “Because it looks like poor planning to me.”

You snort, bumping into her playfully. “Careful, you might actually sound concerned.”

Her smirk softens into something warmer, and for a moment, she just looks at you, as if she’s seeing you for the first time. It’s disarming, the way her eyes linger, and you suddenly realise how close you’re standing.

As you walk, the rain intensifies, pounding against the umbrella. Rio adjusts it, stepping even closer until her arm presses against yours. You glance at her. She had chosen to shelter you with the umbrella more even though it meant she was getting caught in the downpour; the scent of her perfume mixing with the rain is intoxicating, and you can’t help but shiver.

“You’re getting wet,” you murmur mostly to yourself, voice softer than you intended.

She looks down at you, her smile widening into something almost predatory. “You have no idea, darling,” she says, her voice dropping low. The look in her eyes is heated—a flicker of something you’ve never seen before—and it makes you shiver for a completely different reason.

You hold her gaze, the world fading away around you. The rain, the city noise—it all melts into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, inches apart. It would be oh so easy to lean in, to close the gap between you. But then she clears her throat, stepping back just slightly, and the moment breaks.

“We should keep moving,” she says, almost too casually, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Right. Yeah.”

Soon enough, the conversation picks up again and you’re back to casual teasing.

“You know, they do sell these things called coats,” she says, glancing sideways at you with a teasing smile.

“Oh yeah?” You play along, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “I’ll have to look into that.”

She laughs—a low, husky sound that makes your pulse skip. “You probably should. You look like a drowned rat.”

“Rude,” you shot back, but you’re smiling, warmth spreading through your chest despite the cold rain.

By the time you reach your street, the rain has slowed to a drizzle. She stops, tilting the umbrella back as she looks up at the sky. You quickly steal a glance at her neck, imagining what it would be like to trail kisses down her throat, to nip at the soft skin just under her collarbone, to take her ni-

“Looks like you’re safe now,” she says, a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.

The words snapped you out of your daydream.

Shit. She had caught you staring. And oh fuck, your mouth had dropped open slightly as you fantasised about her. Your clothes weren’t the only thing that was wet now. “Uh, um, yep. Thanks for the rescue,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, trying to play it cool. “I owe you one.” You offer her a weak smile.

She cocks her head, considering you for a moment. “Yeah, you do.” There’s a flash of something playful in her eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her easy agreement. “Oh? Planning to cash it in?”

Her smirk widens. “Maybe,” she says, voice low. “But I like to keep people guessing.”

Before you can respond to invite her in for a drink, she steps back, giving you a small, almost imperceptible wink before turning on her heal and walking away, leaving you standing there, wetter than you had been when she first found you but not from the rain.

You’re still thinking about your little encounter with Rio the next day at the gym. You’re in the locker room, towelling off after a particularly gruelling class, when you hear the familiar sound of a certain teasing voice. You glance up and see Rio leaning against the row of lockers, arms crossed over her chest, watching you with that same smirk from the day before. It was only then you noticed just how attractive you found her hands as they gripped her bicep.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she drawls, arching an eyebrow.

You chuckle, tossing your towel into your bag. “It’s almost like I come here at the same time every day or something.”

She doesn’t reply straight away; instead, she pushes her tongue into the cheek of her mouth, shaking her head at your retort. She pushes off the locker and steps closer. “Almost,” her gaze flicks over you, lingering just a moment too long. “You remember that favour you owe me?”

Your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your belly at the way she’s looking at you—dark eyes glinting with mischief, like she’s got a secret she’s about to share.

You swallow hard, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I remember. You planning to cash it in?”

“Oh, definitely.” She takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Your body seemed to be absorbing all of her heat and sending it straight between your legs. She reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, and her fingers linger against your cheek, a teasing caress that makes you ache with need.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Her smirk widens, and she leans in, her lips brushing yours as she whispers, “You’ll find out soon enough, sweetheart.”

You shiver, your breath catching in your throat as she pulls back, giving you one last lingering look before she turns on her heel and saunters out of the locker room. Your heart is racing, anticipation thrumming through your veins. For a split second, you stand there frozen, unsure if you imagined the intensity in her gaze.

But then, just as you start to gather your things, you hear her voice call back from the doorway, rich and teasing.

“Well, are you coming? And remember to pick your jaw up off the floor on the way out.”

Your pulse spikes at the challenge in her tone, the words hanging in the air, heavy with desire. You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You grab your bag, rushing to follow her out of the locker room, silently cursing yourself for being caught gaping at her once again

She’s already halfway down the corridor, glancing over her shoulder with a grin that sends a thrill through you. “Hurry up,” she calls, her voice low, almost like a command.

You catch up to her as she pushes through the gym’s exit, the cool night air hitting your skin. Without missing a beat, she heads straight for the parking lot, her steps purposeful. You fall in line beside her, curiosity and desire mixing in equal measure.

Her car is parked near the back, and before you can say anything, she’s unlocking the door and sliding into the driver’s seat with an easy, confident motion. She looks over at you as you approach, her eyes dark and inviting.

“Get in,” she says, low and charged.

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you know it, the engine roars to life, the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel as she drives with purpose. The ride is quiet but thick with anticipation, the only sounds coming from the hum of the car and the occasional shift of your bodies as you both settle into the journey.

When she pulls into the driveway of her place, you can’t help but feel the electric charge in the air—there’s no mistaking the unspoken agreement between you. She parks and turns off the engine, unbuckling her seatbelt, leaving the silence to stretch between you, thick and expectant.

You wait for her to make the first move, and she doesn’t disappoint. Without a word, she reaches across the console, her fingers brushing yours as she unbuckles your seatbelt. “You’re going to see just how much I care,” she whispers in your ear, remembering your teasing comment from yesterday.

You just look at her, mouth going dry, searching for any hint of hesitation, but there’s none. Just an almost predatory stillness to her gaze. She leans down, her lips brushing the side of your neck, setting every nerve in your body alight.

“You wanted to know what I had in mind,” she murmurs against your skin, her breath warm, sending goosebumps over your arms. “I think it’s time you found out.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and before you can even respond, she’s kissing you—hard and hungry, her hand tangling in your hair, pulling you close. It’s urgent, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment, the tension from yesterday finally snapping.

Her lips move against yours with a feverish intensity, her hands already tugging at your clothes, exploring the heat between you. There’s no more teasing, no more games. Just the heat of the moment, the rush of desire, and the feeling of her body pressing against yours, claiming you as much as you’re claiming her.

She pulls back for a moment, breathless, her eyes scanning your face with a satisfied smirk. “You wanted to know,” she whispers again, her voice thick with desire, “now you’re going to learn exactly what it means to owe me.”

Before you can respond, she’s already round by your door, pulling you out of the car, her grip firm and unrelenting as she leads you towards her front door. The way she moves is confident, like she’s done this a thousand times, and it sends a thrill of excitement straight to your core. You stumble slightly, half from the urgency, half from the anticipation buzzing through your veins, but she doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath.

Rio unlocks the door with swift precision, shoving it open and tugging you inside. The moment you cross the threshold, she’s on you again, pinning you against the closed door with her body, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip.

“Do you need me to do everything for you?” she murmurs, her voice full of mockery as she tilts your chin up with a single finger. There’s a taunting gleam in her eyes, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and it’s infuriatingly effective.

You try to muster a cocky retort, smirking up at her. “Maybe I just like making you work for it.”

Her laugh is low and dark, vibrating against your skin. “Oh, you think you’re in control here?” She presses her knee between your legs, pinning you firmly in place. The pressure is just enough to make you gasp, your bravado faltering for a split second. “That’s cute,” she purrs, leaning in until her lips are brushing against your lips. “But we both know who’s really calling the shots tonight.”

Before you can react, she captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, her hand threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make your scalp tingle. It’s a claiming kiss, like she’s determined to make sure you remember this moment, to imprint herself on your body.

You try to push back to regain some semblance of control, but she’s not having it. She breaks the kiss with a sharp tug of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. “I don’t think you understand,” she says, her voice a husky whisper as she drags her lips down the column of your neck, nipping at your skin. “You owe me. And I’m going to take exactly what I’m owed.”

You shiver, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it. You hate how easily she turns you on and how she seems to know every spot that makes you melt. “What if I don’t want to pay up?” you manage to taunt, your voice breathy.

Rio’s smile is slow, scheming. “Oh, you will,” she says simply, stepping back and yanking you by the hand, dragging you down the hallway to her bedroom. You barely have time to register the surroundings before she’s pushing you onto the bed, her body hovering over yours, caging you in.

She pauses, looking down at you with a smirk, her eyes dark and half-lidded with desire. “Do you need me to do everything for you?” She repeats, and this time there’s a distinct edge of command in her voice.

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to look away. “Maybe I do.”

She chuckles, the sound low and almost dangerous. “Fine,” she breathes, leaning down to kiss you again, softer this time but no less intense. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Her hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, stripping you bare with a skill and efficiency that leaves you breathless. Every touch feels like it’s setting you on fire, the anticipation building to a fever as she takes her time, teasing, testing your limits. When you try to touch her, she grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with a single hand.

“Ah, ah,” she chimes, her grin sharp. “You said you needed me to do everything for you. So keep your hands to yourself, and let me take care of you.”

You want to argue, to push back, but the look in her eyes makes you hesitate. There’s a thrill in giving in, in letting her take control, and you realise with a pulse of excitement that you want this—want to see what she’ll do when she’s given free rein.

Rio doesn’t waste any time. Her mouth is on your skin, lips and teeth and tongue, exploring every inch of you. She’s relentless, drawing out sounds from you that you didn’t even know you could make. When her hand slips between your thighs, you arch into her touch, a moan slipping out before you can stop it.

“Already?” she teases, her fingers teasing along your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where you want her most. “You talk a big game, but look at you now. So eager, so needy.”

You glare up at her, trying to muster a retort, but it comes out as a whine instead when she finally touches you where you need it most, her fingers sliding against your slick heat. She smirks down at you, clearly enjoying the way you react, your back arching off the bed, your hips bucking into her hand.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice soft but edged with dominance. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? You’re going to give me everything I want.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan. “Maybe,” you say, aiming for defiance but sounding breathless instead.

Her smirk widens. “Maybe?” she repeats, leaning down until her mouth is at your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “That’s not good enough.”

With a sudden, purposeful movement, she shifts, sliding two fingers inside you, her thumb pressing against your most sensitive spot. You cry out, your hands instinctively trying to reach for her, but she tightens her grip on your wrists, keeping you pinned down.

“Say it,” she commands, her voice low and insistent. “Say you’ll be good for me.”

You struggle for a moment, clinging to the last shred of your pride, but when she curls her fingers just right, the pleasure shoots through you like a lightning bolt, and you break.

“I’ll be good,” you gasp, your voice almost a sob. “I’ll be good for you, Rio.”

She hums in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your mouth. “Good,” she murmurs, her lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Now let me show you what it means to really owe me.”

Once again, you are gaping at the woman before you, and she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth. Your moans are gradually growing louder and more unhinged with each stroke of Rio’s fingers, and you’re about to cum when she pulls away completely.

You whine at the loss of touch, but this only spurs Rio on more. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” she asks, now running her hands up and down your sides. “I’m going to undress for you now, and you need to look at me the whole time, okay?”

You’re not sure if you should answer. Not sure if you can answer. The questions seem rhetorical, but you’re so eager to get her touch back that you nod enthusiastically, hoping it’s the right thing to do.

Rio chuckles softly at your desperation and starts to strip. It’s slow and deliberate. She starts by shimmying her shorts down, kicking them into the corner with a flick of her foot. Next she peels off her top, crossing her arms at the hem and pulling it over her head slowly. Very slowly. The action pushes Rio’s tits together, drawing your eyes to her cleavage. It’s all too much, and you bring your hand down and start to touch yourself, your eyes fluttering shut. Feeling your wetness on your fingers for the first time, you let out a soft pathetic whimper.

Big mistake. Rio is on you in an instant, tugging your hand away and securing your wrists to the bed frame with ropes you had failed to notice until now.

“If you can’t behave, I will make you behave.” Rio snapped, her voice wasn’t malicious, no, instead, it almost came out as a moan and you realised just how turned on she was.

Disappearing into her closet briefly, she quickly returns, holding something behind her back and an innocent smile plastered across her face, but her eyes hid something more dangerous. “Shut your eyes,” she demanded. “Now.”

You obliged and then felt as the mattress dipped with her weight. You could feel her straddling your waist, gently lifting your head to put something over your eyes.

“Since you clearly didn’t want to watch,” she clarified, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You strain your ears trying to get some sort of idea of what was going on but you cannot make out any distinct noise. That’s when you feel her start to caress your legs again, trailing light, teasing kisses right up to your core.

She was kneeling between your thighs when you felt the tip of something cold and hard push in to your entrance.

“Fffuuuuccckkkk,” you moan, drawing out the word as Rio’s strap fills you completely.

Her movements are slow at first, easing you in to it. “You’re being so good for me, darling,” she coos. “Taking me so well.” Then her pace starts picking up, thrusting in to you harder each time.

It’s a relentless pleasure, and you can feel yourself barrelling towards an orgasm. Rio must sense it too as she grasps her hand around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. “Ask for it.”

“Pl-please. Please Rio. I need to cum,” you try your hardest to get your words out between moans, unsure if you could actually stop yourself from climaxing if she denies your pleas.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to find out as Rio hums her agreement, tilting your hips to reach another angle. “Good girl. Cum for me, I want to watch your beautiful face as you cum,” you hear her gasp out, clearly working herself up as well.

You climax with a flurry of moans and gasps, arching further into Rio. The woman fucking you shows no sign of stopping, drawing out the pleasure. You feel her leaning over to her nightstand, picking something up with a grunt, when the stap rubs just right against her clit. Just as you start to wonder what an earth she had picked up, you hear a faint click, and suddenly the strap starts vibrating inside you.

This time it’s both of you moaning and gasping with each thrust as Rio guides you through another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” Rio is panting. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming.” Rio collapses into you, breathing hard. She stays there for a while before slowly pulling out and removing the blindfold, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

She ducks into her bathroom, grabbing a cloth to clean you up. Her touches are gentle and soothing. “You did so good, sweetheart.” Rio’s voice is soft as she lies down next to you, scooping you into her arms.

You look up at her, blinking slowly, the adrenaline draining out of you. “That was not what I had in mind when I said I owe you one,” you sigh, coming to rest your head on her chest.

“Oh yeah?” One of Rio’s hands comes up to play with your hair, the other stroking up and down your arm. “And what were you thinking of, hmm?” She whispers softly. “Because your staring was definitely not subtle.”

All you can do is huff out a small laugh, her hands coaxing you into an easy sleep. With another kiss to the top of your head, Rio wishes you a good night and holds you as you drift off peacefully.

remember to like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

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aeniiverse · 30 days ago

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FLIRTING SHOULDN’T BE THIS LOUD

Synopsis — You never meant to fall for Giselle. In fact, you were pretty sure she was just a walking fire hazard with a soft spot for chaos, gas station snacks, and frog memes. But somewhere between her fake serenades, vintage bike crashes, and wildly public declarations of love, you find yourself kind of…maybe…very much down bad.

Contains — fluff, Excessive use of pet names, Cringe levels may spike during public serenades, Unhinged romance energy, Slight injury risk due to rental bike chaos, Characters are dangerously down bad, No emotional preparedness for frog hoodie proposals

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

A/N — Hi! Okay so like disappeared for a while, and might for a longer while idk TT

The universe had a funny way of choosing its favorites.

You noticed this most when you were sitting two rows behind Giselle in class, watching her laugh at something stupid her friend said while the entire room tilted slightly in her direction like even gravity was kind of into her.

She was the kind of girl who got away with saying things like “I didn’t study but I still got an A” without anyone punching her. The kind of girl who showed up to school late, with coffee in one hand and an apology you somehow forgave before she even said it. Teachers liked her. People liked her. Even the vending machine liked her. it once spat out two KitKats when she only paid for one.

You didn’t dislike her, of course. You just didn’t get her.

And that was exactly what drove Giselle insane.

Because Giselle, reigning champion of chaotic charm and queen of unintentional thirst traps on her Instagram story, had been flirting with you for the past three weeks.

Or! she thought she was flirting. You, apparently, were just “really nice” and “maybe a little dense” according to Ningning, who had been keeping track of Giselle’s tragic attempts in a Notes app titled “Giselle vs the Brick Wall (Y/N).”

Today was no different.

You were at your locker, calmly placing your textbooks in by size and subject like the mild perfectionist you were, when Giselle swooped in like a dramatic tornado of vanilla perfume and chaos.

“Y/N!” she greeted you like she hadn’t seen you literally forty-five minutes ago in bio. “Crazy question. Be honest, if I were a frog, would you still think I’m hot?”

You blinked. “I mean. I guess you’d be a pretty frog?”

She clutched her chest like you’d proposed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You gave her a polite smile. “You’re welcome?”

Giselle, in her brain, was batting a thousand. Compliment? Secured. Heart rate? Elevated. Eye contact? Brief but memorable.

You, in your brain, were wondering whether you remembered to submit that chem assignment.

“Anyway,” she leaned against the locker next to yours, clearly not planning to leave, “I was thinking. Saturday. We should hang out. Just the two of us. Like a date but, you know, casual. Unless you want it to be a date. No pressure. Total pressure. Whatever you want.”

You shut your locker, thoughtful. “Oh. Are you trying to do the introvert adoption thing?”

“The what?”

“You know. That thing popular people do when they adopt a quiet friend so they can feel mysterious by association.”

Giselle stared at you, dumbfounded. “You think I’m trying to adopt you?”

You shrugged. “I mean, if you want to interview a few other quiet candidates, I totally get it. There’s this girl in calculus who doesn’t even talk to the teacher—”

“No, no, no. Y/N.” Giselle laughed, then immediately tried to recover. “I’m not trying to make you my emotional support introvert. I’m literally asking you out.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence. You stared at her. She stared back. Giselle was mentally shaking you by the shoulders.

You tilted your head. “Like, out out?”

Giselle almost slammed her head into your locker. “YES. Like… date. Romance. I bring you flowers and pretend I don’t stalk your Instagram every night kind of ‘out.’”

“Oh.” You paused again. “Do you want to see my cat?”

Giselle opened her mouth. Closed it. Took a breath. “...Is that a yes?”

“I think so,” you said.

Giselle walked away grinning so wide she nearly tripped over her own feet. Meanwhile, you stood there still trying to process whether the interaction meant you now had plans Saturday or if she just really, really liked frogs.

You met again at the cafe downtown, the one with the weird chairs and overpriced drinks that Giselle insisted was “aesthetic.” She got there first, naturally, in a cropped hoodie and cargo pants that should’ve looked lazy but instead looked like a Pinterest board. You arrived in your “nicest” hoodie, which you’d pulled out of the laundry bin and sniffed twice before deciding it didn’t smell that bad.

She greeted you with a grin and a wave like you hadn’t just seen each other yesterday. “Hey! You came!”

“You told me to,” you said, confused.

“I know,” she said, leaning her cheek against her palm. “Just didn’t expect it to work.”

You stared at the menu, pretending not to notice how she was definitely looking at you and not the options. “So… what are we doing here?”

“Getting coffee?” she offered.

“Right, right.” You nodded seriously. “Is this, like, a coffee coffee hangout or a flirty coffee hangout?”

Giselle choked on air. “I—what—Y/N, this is the date.”

“Ohhhh.”

“You forgot?”

“No!” You looked guilty. “I just thought maybe you changed your mind. Or maybe it was a social experiment. You seem like someone who’d do that.”

Giselle dropped her face onto the table. “Oh my God. I’m going to lose my mind.”

You reached for your wallet, unaware that you were unintentionally stepping on her heart every five seconds. “Well, I’m still here. So. That’s good, right?”

Giselle straightened, grinning with the slightly unhinged energy of someone whose crush just called her a frog and then invited her to meet their cat. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blinked. “You think I’m cute?”

“I’m literally on a date with you.”

“Oh,” you said, then paused. “Do you want to see a video of my cat chasing a laser pointer?”

Giselle nodded wordlessly, completely whipped, as you showed her a six-second clip of your chonky tabby skidding across hardwood. She cooed. “I love him. I would die for him. I’d go to war.”

“Please don’t,” you said seriously. “He wouldn’t survive without me.”

Giselle wanted to scream. Mostly because you said that with the kind of sincere expression that made her chest do weird gymnastics.

Later, as you two walked back toward campus, she slowed her steps, shoving her hands in her pockets and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“So,” she said casually, “was this a successful introvert adoption?”

You squinted at her. “Giselle.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you back now.”

She stopped walking.

“I mean,” you continued, “I’m not great at this stuff, but I think I do. Like, when you asked me if I’d still think you were hot as a frog, I got flustered and went home and made a pros and cons list about dating you.”

Giselle stared. “What was on it?”

“Pro: Very pretty. Con: Slightly unhinged.”

She laughed, loud and bright, and threw an arm around your shoulders. “That’s fair. I’ll take it.”

And you, oblivious no more, smiled like the sun had finally risen just for you.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but by the following week, you were officially Giselle’s girlfriend.

The news spread fast.

You didn’t post about it, of course. You didn’t even tell anyone. But it didn’t matter. Somehow the entire school knew. Ningning gave you a thumbs up in the hallway. Karina winked at you and whispered, “Nice catch.” Even the calculus girl, the one who didn’t speak, gave you a very solemn nod when you passed her in the library.

Apparently, dating Giselle meant inheriting her social reach like some kind of chaotic royalty.

And Giselle? Giselle was thriving.

She held your hand in the cafeteria. She texted you in all caps even when you were sitting right across from her. She started using dumb pet names like “muffin” and “my emotional support genius.” She posted blurry selfies of you with captions like “look at my baby being smart” even when the photo was just you blinking at a worksheet.

Still, it was… nice. Unexpectedly, annoyingly, stomach-flippingly nice.

Especially the way she’d look at you like she couldn’t believe her luck. Like she’d won some grand prize just by making you laugh. Like she was trying not to smile too hard whenever you called her “Giselle” instead of “oh hey, you.”

Your second date was on a Friday.

You expected coffee again. Maybe a movie. Something normal.

What you got was a very dramatic text message at 2 p.m. that said: “Clear your schedule. I’m taking you on a romantic adventure. Pack snacks.”

You replied, “Are we robbing a bank?”

She said, “Maybe.”

So naturally, you showed up at the park with a water bottle, some chips, and a vague sense of concern.

What you found was Giselle, standing next to two very beat-up rental bikes with a bouquet of gas station flowers and a pair of sunglasses that looked like they were stolen from a cartoon villain.

You stared at her. “We’re biking?”

“Yes,” she said proudly. “It’s romantic.”

“These bikes look like they were forged in the 80s.”

She patted one. “Vintage. Aesthetic. Shut up.”

You didn’t shut up. Not even when she nearly fell off hers trying to impress you by riding one-handed. Not even when she tried to race you and hit a trash can. Not even when she made you pull over because “there was a ladybug and it felt symbolic.”

By the time you reached the top of the hill overlooking the lake, she was panting dramatically, clutching her chest like she’d just climbed Everest.

You handed her a chip. She took it solemnly.

“This was worth it,” she said between breaths. “If I die right here, bury me in this hoodie.”

“Do you even know how to ride a bike properly?” you asked.

She gestured vaguely. “Mostly. In theory. Look, not all of us had stable childhoods with weekend park outings and safety helmets.”

You snorted. “I used to ride mine in circles in the driveway and pretend I was escaping the law.”

She blinked at you. “Okay, that’s hotter than it should be.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a chip at her. She caught it in her mouth and grinned like a dog who just learned a new trick.

After the sun started to dip, you sat side by side on the grass, sipping from your water bottle while she plucked petals off one of the flowers and dramatically asked, “Do you love me? Do you love me not?”

“You skipped five petals in a row.”

“I’m manifesting,” she said. “Let me have this.”

You looked at her, really looked at her messy hair from the wind, scuffed shoes from biking too fast, flower petals on her lap, and a sparkle in her eyes like she’d never been more sure of anything than the fact that she wanted to be here with you.

“You know,” you said slowly, “I think I like you more now that I know how uncoordinated you are.”

She gasped. “You like me for my flaws?”

“I like you despite your sunglasses.”

“I’ll take it.”

The next Monday, she took things to a new level.

You were minding your business in the hallway, waiting for class, when you heard the distinct opening notes of an Ed Sheeran song.

Your soul left your body.

Because there was Giselle standing at the end of the hallway with a portable speaker, an unbuttoned uniform jacket, and a microphone made out of a water bottle. Her friends stood behind her like backup dancers. Ningning was holding cue cards. One of them said, “SHE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU, DUMMY.”

You stood frozen.

Giselle launched into a dramatically off-key rendition of “Perfect.” She sang to you. She pointed at you. She dramatically fell to her knees and whispered into the mic, “This is for you, baby.”

You wanted to crawl inside a locker and disappear forever.

“Why are you like this?” you asked once she jogged up to you, breathless and smiling like she’d just won a talent show.

“Because you’re mine now,” she said simply. “And I wanted everyone to know.”

“I think the janitor knows.”

“Good. I want him to come to our wedding.”

You groaned, dragging her away by the sleeve, while everyone around you clapped and cheered like they’d just witnessed a public proposal.

Later that day, you were sitting together under the tree near the track field, your legs pressed against hers and your head tipped onto her shoulder. The world around you was loud, but she was quiet for once. just idly playing with the hem of your sleeve, occasionally bumping your knee with hers like she couldn’t stand to not touch you.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m, like. Really down bad.”

You turned to look at her. “That’s not news.”

She looked fake offended. “Okay, rude. I was trying to have a moment.”

You smiled, letting your fingers drift to hers. “Have your moment.”

She squeezed your hand. “You make me soft. I hate it.”

“No you don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t. But don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

You leaned in, kissing her on the cheek so quickly she barely had time to register it. She froze.

“…Did you just kiss me?”

“I did,” you said casually.

“I’m gonna scream.”

“You’re already screaming.”

She covered her face. “Ugh. I knew dating you would be dangerous. You’re turning me into a blushing loser.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder. “It’s mutual.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then she whispered, “So, hypothetically, if I asked you to wear matching frog hoodies, would that be pushing it?”

You didn’t even flinch. “What color?”

Giselle beamed.

Maybe the universe really did have a favorite.

But this time, it was you.

#aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa x fem reader #aespa fanfic #aespa x you #aespa #aespa fic #aespa giselle #giselle x reader #giselle fanfic #Giselle fluff #aespa giselle x reader #aespa Giselle fluff #aeri uchinaga #aeri x reader #aeri x fem reader #aeri uchinaga x reader

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lesbianrobin · 11 months ago

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ok literally i believe that during quarantine buck was like eddie let's start a podcast and eddie was like what would we talk about and buck was like we could tell people about natural disasters and teach emergency preparedness!! and eddie was like (knowing full well nobody on earth is just gonna stumble upon their random podcast and start listening) okay <3 because he just wants to have fun listening to his best guy yap. they record a two and a half hour long episode about tsunamis to start with and then they do one about earthquakes and landslides etc etc and they're all long as fuck and it's 80% buck talking with eddie just cutting in occasionally to ask him questions or make little jokes.

they make like seven episodes before buck starts running out of ideas that fall under natural disaster and emergency preparedness so he kinda loses interest and forgets about it but those seven episodes are still up on spotify and eddie has them downloaded and he listens to them all the time. sometimes when he can't fall asleep he'll turn on their podcast on low volume and let buck's voice soothe him to sleep. and he never tells buck about this but not because he's actively hiding it just because it doesn't register to him as anything of note. he's like well of course i listen to our podcast to fall asleep the familiarity is soothing. duh.

#em talks #911

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cyberstudious · 5 months ago

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2025, week 1 (dec 30th - jan 5th) ✨

for this year, I felt inspired to take a page out of @lostlibrariangirl's book and try weekly posts! I like the idea of collecting little moments throughout the week & reflecting on them at the end.

this week was very strange and kind of difficult, tbh. I blame new year's day falling in the middle of the week - my routine-loving brain did not have a good time haha. I was also struggling to get some work projects done. I find that some projects flow really well, and others seem to drag on forever and make me question my purpose, but I suppose it all balances out in the end. I'm hoping that things will feel more normal next week, now that all the holidays are over. swinging between feeling super exhausted and super motivated is not fun :(

one of the things that I did this week was fill out a goals page in my 2025 planner! I wrote down a lot, but I think they're all achievable, and it's okay if I don't get everything! it'll still be nice to look back at the end of the year and see what I've done. there are some cybersecurity courses that I want to work through, and I want to properly get back into language learning this year, but I wrote down some fun goals, too! here is a small selection of what I want to try and do in 2025:

complete the TCM Practical Malware Analysis and Triage course

read a book in Spanish

reach 50 birds on my life list (this is a totally arbitrary number, but that's like 1-2 new birds per month which I think I can do if I really try) (a subgoal of this is trying to spot an american woodcock bc their range technically overlaps with where I live and they are so goofy looking. I want to see one of them doing that funky lil dance in person so bad)

mend at least 1 item of clothing

get a technician amateur radio license (everyone on my dad's side of the family is licensed, and I think it would be a fun hobby to get into as a combo of learning the science behind radio & also learning to help with communications from a disaster preparedness perspective)

I think 2025 is going to be a year where I have to keep reminding myself that I can do anything, but not everything. I also want to make it a year of reaching out and forging connections with people in my community & online friends. the world feels like a very heavy place more days than not, but we can get through it together.

some highlights from this week:

drinking lots of tea

settling into my 2025 planner

getting back into language learning with clozemaster & busuu

outlining & starting the first draft of a fic that's taken over my brain the past few weeks lol

finishing two projects at work so I can start fresh next week

#studyblr #studyspo #studying #reading #study inspo #study motivation #op #this post got longer than I expected it to but wahooo new year time lol #I think I'm just gonna try to take it day by day and see what happens #practicing being kind to myself and all that

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thisismytotallyawesomeblog · 5 months ago

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I noticed something while replaying Far Cry 5 again.

In the Whitetail Mountains, as soon as you make a move and gain a lot of resistance points at once (like freeing an outpost), Jacob swoops in immediately to hunt you.

In Holland Valley, John's got an avoidable capture party, which he doesn't deploy until you make some serious moves against him (multiple outposts, Falls End, etc).

In the Henbane River region, Rook can rack up resistance points for a good long time, almost halfway to the second tier, before Faith will actively step in and take them.

I just think it's such a cool and subtle detail showing each Herald's preparedness for the Reaping. Jacob is a soldier and actively tries to stop the Deputy as soon as they start causing trouble. John postures over the radio, but his tactical response isn't as organised as Jacob's, and you can run from him without being forced into a Herald confrontation. Faith does most of her work from the outskirts, and lets the Deputy run amok for a while before dosing them and trying to manipulate them through the Bliss.

#far cry #far cry 5 #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #man i fucking love this game

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chilling-seavey · 2 months ago

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Lessons in Lust and Other Illicit Desires (gr63) —SEVENTEEN

↳ A/N The big night is upon us!!

↳ Series Summary: Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

↳ Pairings: OxfordProfessor!George Russell x Innocent!Student!OC, Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc (background)

↳ Chapter Word Count: 9.1k

↳ Chapter Warnings: 18+, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, edging, slight overstimulation, some dirty talk, lots of praise, clumsy and slightly tense 'first time' moments, pain, blood, some crying, self-consciousness, consent and reassurances!!, protected sex.

Rosaline came to decree that the dormitory showers were not equipped for the level of preparedness she needed to be that Saturday night. In her miniscule corner shower of her equally as miniscule dorm-room bathroom, it came to be known that shaving and exfoliating your legs was not quite an easy task. With her foot hiked up on one acrylic wall of the shower and her back pressed against the opposite one, hair plastered over her forehead with the water pelting down on her, she carefully dragged her razor up the entire length of her leg from ankle to thigh. After contorting herself into a myriad of different positions until she was as sparkling as polished silverware, Rosaline progressed from shower to vanity and desperately prayed that the fuze wouldn’t blow while she dried and styled her hair.

She told herself it was just another night out—maybe to keep from overthinking it and risking cold feet or a change of heart—all she had to do was get ready (nothing too extravagant, just enough to feel good about herself), take the bus to George’s house, where she would spend the night. She had followed that same routine a few times already this term so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and yet, the weight of what tonight truly meant sat heavy in the back of her mind, impossible to ignore.

Tonight was the night she was going to lose her virginity.

It was a completely made up social construct, she had always told herself on those nights where it felt like everyone around her had been having sex and, now, what she told herself as she sat on the bus and fidgeted with her purse in her lap, trying to keep the nervousness at bay. Sunset was falling upon Oxford and Rosaline distracted herself with the colourful bath of light that stained the ancient city and shadowed the streets. A comfortably warm, clear skied evening. Calm.

As the bus drew closer to the outskirts of the city, thoughts of how the night was going to play out, if she was going to be awkward, lingered in her mind, despite the fact she knew that George had never and would never judge her. Still, vulnerability settled in her chest, making her heart race. They had shared so much already, but this next step—this final step—felt entirely new, a threshold she had never crossed before. No one had ever been this close to her, not like this. She trusted George, cared for him deeply, and was certain of her choice, and yet, a quiet awareness stirred within her: after tonight, she would never be this version of herself again.

Once she disembarked the bus at the stop down the street from George’s house, she lingered there a moment, staring at the white brick townhouse just a few short blocks away. The front porch light was on as if becoming her home. With a deep breath, she crossed the street before she could overthink herself into a tizzy.

George’s house smelt delicious when she was welcomed over the threshold into the familiar foyer, and it wasn’t simply due to his usual tasteful cologne he wore. It smelt like supper, like a delicious home cooked meal, and George was barely able to close the door behind before she was complimenting it.

“It smells so good in here,” she smiled despite the nervous energy bubbling in her stomach as she toed off her shoes.

“Why, thank you,” George replied politely. He then set a hand at the small of her back to bring her attention properly to him with a soft, “Hello.”

“Hi,” she said softly and met him halfway for a quick kiss in greeting.

He gestured her farther into the house, “After you.”

When she turned the corner into the main living space, she noticed that the usually empty dining room table was set with two full place settings and a row of flickering candles, the chandelier dimmed to an almost romantic warmth. The speaker on the sideboard was playing soft classical music just to make the whole thing feel more cohesive and peaceful. Rosaline swore for a moment she felt tears prick at her eyes and her breath shuddered in her chest, her dizzying worriedness fading away little by little. It was just George.

George slipped past her towards the kitchen, giving her hips a squeeze on his way past, “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, lingering in the passageway to the kitchen.

“No, no,” George assured her, “I have everything under control.”

The counters were crowded with cutting boards and food scraps and used mixing bowls and measuring cups and a half-soiled recipe book propped up against the coffee maker. George was bent over and reaching into the oven, donning an oven mitt on each hand as he checked the temperature of the meat. Rosaline couldn't help but eye the way his slacks fit over the curve of his ass or how his cream button-up pulled over the flex of his back as he reached into the oven. Was this the thrill of domesticity?

George had made a full English roast of beef, julienned root vegetables, quartered potatoes, and yorkshire pudding beneath a homemade gravy and as they settled at the dining room table together, George poured them each a small glass of red wine. Rosaline set her napkin on her lap as she took in the feast.

“This looks amazing, you really outdid yourself,” she said softly.

“Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks then,” George chuckled modestly, “I could never quite make it as well as my nan could.”

“I bet you did her proud,” Rosaline assured him with a smile.

They were quiet as they started to eat, settling into each other’s company and the comforting ambience of the candlelight and quiet music. Rosaline kept stealing glances at him from across the table, feeling those butterflies in her stomach now fluttering in her heart as she sat there at what could have arguably been the most romantic moment of her life. A homemade meal, candles, music, how he even dressed up a little as if wanting to look good for her. It felt like a dream.

Despite the way she felt comfortable around him at that moment, the awareness of what was to come was still lingering in the back of her mind and stealing her appetite. She didn’t want to be rude so she tried to keep eating, cutting little bites of roast beef or carrot at a time, nudging things around her plate to make it look more empty than it was.

She was silly to have thought George wouldn’t notice. He watched her for a moment, eyeing the way she shifted things around her plate with her fork, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as if she were deep in thought.

His voice broke her out of her trance with a concerned, “Is it okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, sorry,” Rosaline set her fork down and dropped her hands to her lap, fiddling with the edge of her napkin, “I’m just not really hungry, that’s all.”

“Oh,” George frowned slightly, “Is…everything alright?”

Rosaline nodded, meeting his gaze as she nudged up her glasses with the back of her index finger as she confessed in a near whisper, “Yeah, just a little nervous.”

George’s features softened and he reached a hand across the table towards her, his voice as gentle and patient as always, “Like always, we do nothing you don’t want to do. You hold the cards. And just because I made you dinner doesn’t mean I…expect anything. Alright?”

She knew that but she appreciated hearing it, that little bit of reassurance to ease her mind. She nodded in reply and set her hand over his, watching as his fingers collected hers and his thumb caressed her knuckles. Oh, she was utterly infatuated with him, and that simple moment only reaffirmed her certainty that he was the perfect person to share this final, defining step with.

The meal continued quietly, only the odd conversation lingering here or there, the shared moment housing the impending night to come. After a while, with Rosaline only having finished half her plate, she set her fork down and lifted her napkin from her lap to wipe her mouth, trying to distract herself from the nervous anticipation buzzing beneath her skin. George, resting back in his chair comfortably with his entirely empty plate in front of him, had been watching her in that quiet, knowing way of his, the candlelight catching in his eyes as he swirled the last sip of wine in his glass.

Noting her pause, he asked, “All done then?”

“Yes, it was delicious,” she said kindly, “Sorry that I…couldn’t finish it.”

George shook his head as he stood up to start to clear their plates, “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

“Can I help—”

Rosaline moved to help clear the table, but he gave her a look—one that told her to stay put, to let him take care of it. They exchanged a silent smile and she settled back into her chair again to let him clear the dishes himself.

She lingered, alone, in the dining room, listening to the clink of the dishes and the running of water from the kitchen as he cleaned up, her fingers toying with the bottom hem of her blouse. Rosaline knew she was nervous—hence her lapse in appetite—but there was also a layer of impatience that was steadily growing as time ticked by. She checked the time on her phone out of habit, as if she had anywhere to be other than right there.

From the kitchen, George called, “Shall I put the kettle on?”

She chewed at her bottom lip for a moment before replying, “I’m fine without, thanks.”

When he appeared in the doorway from the kitchen again, she couldn’t help but notice the slight concern on his expression. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks with a gentle, “There’s no pressure, darling. Please don’t worry yourself sick over it.”

Rosaline shook her head, “I’m not worried. It’s just the anticipation, really.”

George pushed off the doorway and walked across the dining room to stand beside her at the table. He offered out his hand for her to take and spoke with a soft conviction, his words giving her space to change her mind, “Come upstairs with me?”

It was the invitation she had been waiting for.

She exhaled slowly and set her hand in his, “Okay.”

She stood from the table and followed him across the living room and up the stairs. It was a path they had taken many times before, one she was all too familiar with, and she found herself subconsciously counting the steps as they ascended them. Fourteen. And then nine steps down the upstairs hallway to his bedroom. The same as always.

His bedroom was just as tidy as she had always seen it with the bedsheets pulled tightly and the decorative pillows dotting the bed, not a single piece of clothing on the floor or tossed over the back of the chair in the corner. It wasn’t unfamiliar—she had been here before, had spent nights wrapped in his sheets, tangled in him. But tonight was different.

Their hands parted once they stepped inside and Rosaline lingered in the doorway as he walked over to close the curtains and then switched on the warm lamps on the bedside tables. When he turned back to her, his expression was soft, contemplative, as if trying to read her.

She took another step into the room and, knowing what he was thinking, offered a murmured, “I’m okay.”

George’s lips quirked slightly, “Yeah?”

Rosaline shared in his timid smile and they met in the centre of his room, “Yeah.”

Their hands met between them, careful and slow, as if they were touching each other for the first time all over again. Rosaline watched how his fingers traced hers, following the contours of her hands, until he captured her fingers and raised them to his lips to kiss her knuckles. His eyes raised to hers with their hands held between them, his gentle breath falling against her fingers as his thumbs delicately traced the shape of them.

The warmth that his gaze inflicted into her bloodstream had her taking a half-step towards him, pulling her hand out of his to grasp the back of his neck, and she pressed her lips to his in a gentle yet sure kiss.

It was as if a majority of her nervousness settled the moment their lips met, as if the familiarity of his kiss grounded her in the moment and kept her from spiraling into a mess of hypotheticals. She lost herself in it for a while, sharing kisses in the middle of his quiet bedroom as their hands wandered and lips and tongues explored, enjoying the moment of closeness with him. It wasn’t until she was suddenly being cradled by the plush mattress of his bed that she realized just how distracted by his lips she had been.

Clothes were slowly shed between passionate kisses, George taking his time to undress her and kiss over her skin as more of her body was exposed to him. It seemed to be a familiar routine by then as she relaxed into his mattress and let her fingers slide through his hair and over his shoulders as he moved down her body. She didn’t feel quite as anxious about being naked in front of him anymore, not even as he lowered his head between her thighs and started to lap at her pussy.

Rosaline’s eyes fluttered closed as she succumbed to the feeling of his mouth on her—something she had really grown to love and crave over the weeks, and something he clearly enjoyed giving her just as strongly. He took his time with it, kissing and licking and suckling at her cunt like they had all the time in the world. He never made her feel rushed and that night in particular was no exception; he had promised her that he was going to make it special for her.

And as he found home between her legs, he certainly succeeded in that, as the minutes drifted by and her skin grew flushed with pleasure. He kept luring her closer to the edge before easing up, keeping that anticipation and need building and building, wanting her to be as willing and wonton as possible. She withered at the addition of his fingers, one at a time, slowly, easing her into it, calmed by the steady pace of his tongue on her clit.

Her back arched off the bed and her fingers tightened in his hair and across the sheets as he started to thrust his fingers into her in firm, shallow, angled nudges while his tongue flicked at her clit simultaneously. She let out a small cry of pleasure, wrinkling the sheets in her white-knuckled grip, trying to nudge herself up against his mouth even more. George moaned against her pussy at her eagerness, the vibration of the sound making her shiver, and, as he lay splayed out in only his briefs between her legs, he subconsciously rutted his hips against the mattress beneath him.

But just as Rosaline felt that tight coil of pleasure starting to build in the pit of her stomach again, George’s fingers slowed to a stop. She whined faintly in dismay but before she could complain, he eased his two fingers a little deeper before spreading them apart in a v-shape inside her a little. She pulled in a sharp breath at the faint stretch as his slender fingers pressed against her tight walls and slightly tense muscles.

“Good girl,” he breathed, words slightly muffled by his mouth on her and the soft wet kisses he pressed to her clit, “Just breathe for me.”

Rosaline panted as she lay splayed out over his bed, legs parted absentmindedly and fingers threaded through his hair, buzzing with pleasure. George leaned his head back a little to get a proper look at her and, at the same time, pursed his lips to dribble some more spit onto her cunt so he could smear it in with his fingers.

“I’m going to add another finger, okay?” he asked lowly.

She had never taken more than two before but she trusted the process and nodded to him, following it up with a soft, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed, gently easing in his ring finger along with his middle and index.

Rosaline winced slightly but more so in anticipation than anything as the stretch was tight but not overly uncomfortable. He was gentle and patient and his tongue met her clit again to help relax her with the good feelings as his trio of fingers carefully prepped her.

George’s breath was hot against her cunt, “There you go, good girl. Gonna get you nice and stretched out and ready for me.”

She could hear how wet she was as he started to thrust his fingers into her in cautious movements, the tight squeeze only seeming to make the sound of the lewd wet squelch more obvious. Her jaw was slack as she took his fingers, eyelashes fluttering in near awe at the feeling and how full and warm it felt before anything had even really happened yet. If anything, it eased the last of her nervousness and replaced it with an eager desire to satisfy her curiosity and her craving of what it would be like to finally and properly have sex.

Rosaline tried to be patient as George fingered her and tongued at her clit in slow, sloppy motions, dragging it on and blurring her senses with rising pleasure yet again; those taunting waves of rising euphoria before he backed off again were starting to drive her a little crazy. So, she splayed her hand flat over the crown of his head and gave him a tiny push with a soft, “Please…I’m ready.”

George’s eyes snapped up to hers and he pulled away from her cunt with flushed cheeks and his mouth and chin glistening. He licked his lips—although it did nothing to help the mess—and then spoke gently, “You sure?”

She nodded and he carefully retreated his fingers and she adjusted herself on the bed with a soft, “Yeah…”

He leaned down over her to kiss her lips and her hands instinctively gravitated to his sides, feeling the muscle beneath his warm skin as he held himself up overtop of her. They shared a few sloppy kisses before he was moving off of her and shifting to the side of the bed to pull open his bedside table drawer. Rosaline took a breath, watching him as he fished out a modest bottle of lube and a brand new box of condoms. With his pinky, he broke the tape sealing the box and then opened the top to fish out one of the square foil packages inside before setting the box on the top of the bedside table.

In the warm light of the bedside lamps, Rosaline watched as George set the condom packet between his lips so he could shuffle out of his underwear and drop them off the side of the bed, leaving him as naked as she was. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him like that but he was just as gorgeous as ever and her gaze shamelessly traveled down his toned figure and lingered on his hard cock that stood up and out from his body, ready. For her.

George held out the condom to her with a gentle offer, “Do you want to do it?”

She nodded and sat up a little more before carefully ripping open the first condom she had ever touched outside of high school health class. She set the empty wrapper with the box and George shuffled a little closer on his knees to position himself between her legs so she could reach him. He wrapped a hand around his dick to pull back the foreskin just enough, exposing the leaky head to her wide-eyed gaze.

His other hand reached out to help her turn the condom the proper way up, instructing her in a warm whisper, “This way up. Pinch the tip there.”

She set her thumb and forefinger over the tip of the slippery condom as he instructed and then moved her hands closer towards him as he held his dick steady. His hand covered hers, helping her to set it in place.

“Now roll it down,” he said.

Her technique was slightly ungraceful from her inexperience, taking a few extra strokes to unroll it down around the shaft of his cock, but he didn’t rush her. When she removed her hands, he just rolled it a little bit farther towards the base but didn’t call her out on it.

Instead, he offered her an almost proud smile and a soft, “Great job.”

She held up her hands between them with a shy giggle, using the back of her hand to nudge her glasses farther up her nose, “My hands are covered in it now.”

George chuckled softly and leaned forward with his hands against the mattress on either side of her, “You can wipe them on me. I don’t mind.”

Rosaline hesitated a moment but then set her hands on his biceps, letting the small amount of lubricant from the condom smear onto his skin rather than lingering on her hands. She had to admit, she wasn’t crazy about the feeling of that substance. At the same time, George had popped the cap on the bottle of lube and squirted out a generous amount onto his fingers and over the protected shaft of his cock, taking his time to smear it all over and then applied some to her pussy too, slipping his fingers a little inside her to make sure she was plenty wet.

When he reached over to grab a tissue from the bedside table to wipe off the worst of it from his hand, Rosaline took that moment to ask timidly, “Do you want me to take my glasses off?”

George’s expression furrowed momentarily as he settled back between her legs, “Why would I want you to do that?”

“I dunno…is that a thing people do?” she mumbled nervously, still gently caressing his biceps and shoulders as if soothing herself, “Like, will they get in the way? Do they ruin the mood?”

George smiled down at her and before he even spoke, that look alone was already easing her nervousness. He assured her softly, “You look beautiful with your glasses. Please leave them on.”

Rosaline shared in his smile, a rouge to her cheeks as she breathed, “Okay.”

George leaned down to kiss her again, swallowing her lips up with his in sensual, passionate kisses, and her hands slid up to the sides of his neck to keep him there. She focused herself on his plush lips against hers to distract herself from the storm of anxious anticipation that was starting to swirl in her stomach again, her butterflies creating a tornado with how fast they were fluttering. The soft hum she let out against his lips was accidental, almost as if she were soothing herself, but George didn't flinch.

Their kiss only broke once she felt something much larger than his fingers pressing against the slick skin of her cunt. Her little gasp had him dusting a kiss to her cheek.

“You still okay?” he checked in with her.

“Yeah,” Rosaline’s arms went around his back to hold him close, her legs pitched outwards on either side of him.

“You’re comfortable like this?”

“Yeah…this is good.”

George’s eyes met hers, speaking seriously to her although his words were gentle and kind, “If you need to stop, tell me, alright? No hard feelings.”

“I know,” Rosaline breathed.

George nodded ever so slightly once. She mirrored it; the both of them sharing the silent affirmations.

“Take some deep breaths for me, darling,” he whispered, his voice rich and soothing and it seemed to work wonders to ease her racing heart.

Rosaline stared up into his eyes as she took in a deep, cleansing breath and then slowly let it out, her hands pressed securely against his shoulder blades and the muscle of his upper back, holding onto him. Oh God, this was it; the moment she had been anticipating since high school. Everything else they had done so far had far exceeded her expectations so, despite her natural nervousness, she was also filled with a hint of excitement to truly and wholeheartedly experience everything.

George took a few more deep breaths with her, connecting them in the moment, and then he was moving his hips a little closer, just enough to start to press inside of her. The first little bit didn’t feel like much of anything as her labia spread to accommodate him, welcoming him in for that first half-inch. She kept her eyes on his, motionless, speechless, trying to focus on the feelings, the moment. Him.

But then, as he eased a little deeper, there was a sudden ache that pushed between her legs and had her instinctively tensing up with a surprised, “Ow.”

George stopped immediately, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…” Rosaline’s exclamation had even taken herself by surprise, “Sorry, it just…kinda hurt there a little. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting it. Keep going.”

George leaned down to kiss her once more before he started to push into her again. But he barely got any farther, held back by the resistance of her tight cunt, when she let out another small “ow”. He stopped again.

Rosaline frowned and lifted her head up to look down between them as if she could see why it was hurting this much. People had told her that the first time would hurt but she swore that this was almost unbearable; was she just a complete wuss or did everyone else feel like this? Okay, she was only starting to panic a little.

“Maybe we should stop. I don’t want to hurt you.” George offered. There was almost a slight fear in his voice, a vulnerability Rosaline had never heard from him before.

“No, please, I’m okay,” Rosaline almost pleaded, resting back down on her back. Her hands grasped onto his back as she stared into his concerned eyes. “I want this. Please, I want this.”

“Okay…” George exhaled as if steeling himself for this just as much as she was. He started to push himself in some more, getting just a little bit farther, and Rosaline clung onto him tightly, holding her breath, trying to ignore the intense ache that shot between her legs. George must have seen the obvious wince of pain on Rosealine’s face as he stopped once more with a nervous sigh, “You’re in pain, love.”

Rosaline, getting absolutely fed up with her body not just doing what she wanted it to do, huffed in frustration, demanding desperately, “Just shove it in or something!”

George’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “I’m not going to shove it in, darling, blimey.”

Rosaline covered her flushed face with her hands to try and take a deep calming breath, muttering, “Fuck, this is stupid.”

George eased back—even though he had been barely inside her—and he leaned down to kiss her forehead with a small sigh before whispering right to her, “It’s not stupid. It’s your first time; it’s bound to hurt.”

She removed her hands from her face and met his concerned gaze, a small pout on her swollen lips. As much as she wanted it, it felt like the world was against her, not willing to give her what she desired. It almost brought her to tears. Rosaline took a trembling breath and wrapped her hands around his biceps, confessing softly, “I want this so badly. I want you so badly.”

George’s fingers gently played with the ends of her hair that was splayed out over his pillow and the pitied look on his face had her heart in her throat. He sighed softly, as if at a crossroad of how he should allow that moment to progress, before finally offering in a soft, worried whisper, “Maybe if we try a different position, it’ll be easier and hurt a little less…would that be okay?”

Rosaline relaxed a little at his words, thankful that he wasn’t just going to give up on her that easily. She nodded, “Yeah…we can try.”

George shifted out from between her legs and she followed his guidance until they had switched spots so he was laying out on the bed, head on the pillows, and he helped her to get on top of him. She straddled his thighs and stared down at him and his handsome body beneath her. It almost felt like this was a dream; some crazy out of body experience. Her hands rested against his pecs.

“This is a little intimidating,” she giggled nervously.

George’s hands found their way to her hips to position her over him properly and his thumbs rubbed gentle circles against her skin and he chuckled softly at her statement. He stared up at her with a comforting smile and a breathless whisper, “You’ll be fine, darling. Just take your time…do what feels right for you. There’s no rush.”

Rosaline shifted from her knees on either side of his waist to her feet, struggling to stay balanced on the soft mattress but George was right there to hold her waist and help to keep her steady. With one hand, he reached down to grasp his achingly hard cock and angle it properly for her, holding it in place as she ungracefully situated herself. When she got herself into position enough to feel the protected head nudging against her cunt, she shivered, her hands pressing against his chest.

“Nice and easy,” George whispered softly.

Rosaline took her time to slowly sink down on him ever so cautiously, trying to breathe through it. The burning ache returned as he reached only about an inch in and her face scrunched up a little and she eased back up slightly with a quiet, anxious whimper.

George’s voice was tight, “Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” she muttered, hands still flat against his torso for stability, “I’m sorry.”

He sighed, “Oh, Rose, darling, you have nothing to apologize for. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“No, it’s embarrassing—”

The words were barely out of her mouth before he was reaching a hand up to gently take her chin in his grasp and he guided her eyes to his. There was an unmistakable seriousness in his kindhearted expression as he said, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. If you want to keep trying or if you want to stop, whatever you want, it’s completely fine with me.”

“I really want this,” Rosaline breathed, her voice shaking. “Please…I want to keep trying.”

A small smile grazed George’s lips and he stroked her cheek with his thumb, “If you’re sure. I just can’t bear the thought that I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not hurting me,” she mumbled, although her attention was already turning back to the task at hand.

She reached down to make sure his cock was angled properly against her and when she started to sink down again, her palms fell flat against his chest. She could feel him watching her, silently, his hands tight on her hips to stabilize her but not rush her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over her skin. The pain was obvious but her determination was stronger as she breathed deeply and started to move in tentative little bounces as if to work her way down.

George’s breath caught slightly but he played it off with a tight, “That’s it…”

Despite his quiet encouragement, she didn’t speak, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth and nose scrunched as she eased herself down little by little, pushing aside the pressure that ached across her hips and between her legs. The warmth that flowed through her veins was unlike anything she had felt before and, finally, once her bum met his thighs, she felt on fire. Rosaline stilled, then blinked, and then raised her gaze to meet his as if in complete disbelief that she had really truly succeeded, that they were officially and entirely joined together.

George smiled at her, a dreamy, lopsided, handsome grin, as if he were holding himself back from showing her just how incredible it felt, and his hands gave her hips a little squeeze. His voice was hoarse and strained, “How’s that?”

She could feel his rapid heartbeat under her hands, the feeling of his skin against hers feeling more intense than ever before. Rosaline raised a hand to set against her abdomen, right over where he was tucked inside her, “It’s…fine. It feels…strange.”

George’s eyes scrunched closed through a warm, low laugh, and his hands tightened on her hips as she shifted a little on top of him, choking his chuckle into a tight groan. His eyebrows furrowed in the middle, head tilting back just slightly, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. There was an unmissable look in his eyes when he finally opened them again, the blue of his irises saturated by the dilation of his pupils, staring at her with nothing short of desire, something so intense she had never seen before. But she wanted more. She wanted him to look at her like that until the end of time.

He spoke finally, “Darling, you…you have no idea…you feel so good.”

She gasped at the unexpected feeling of his cock throbbing deep inside her and her hand pressed down against his abs again with a breathy, “Oh my God…”

George’s next inhale was shuddery, his hands kneading the flesh of her hips as if a way to distract himself from just taking over. Rosaline knew the logical thing to do was move but she was frozen in place, staring down at him, her mind feeling fuzzy.

“I don’t know what to do now,” she giggled shyly, rubbing her hands over his chest, “I’m gonna look ridiculous and clumsy.”

George’s lips perked up at the corners and his hands trailed down from her hips to her thighs, rubbing gentle lines into her skin, “You won’t look ridiculous, darling. Just move however feels good for you, alright?”

Rosaline shifted off her feet to rest on her knees on either side of his waist instead and then slowly started to roll her hips against his. She wasn’t completely oblivious to some of the techniques—she had written plenty of erotica to understand the basic mannerisms—but doing it herself felt so strange and unfamiliar. Her hips rocked in lazy back and forth motions, testing the water, figuring out what felt good, her attention focused on George’s face as if also wanting to make sure he was enjoying it too.

“Yes…” George exhaled, his eyes focused all on her like nothing else mattered, his hands firmly on her thighs, “Yes…just like that…you’re doing so well.”

“Is this okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, it’s perfect. Does it feel good for you?”

“Uh huh,” Rosaline barely replied before she changed up her movement from rocking to little bounces, her mind racing and curious to try everything she possibly could.

That simple change had George’s eyes nearly rolling, his head tossing back against the pillow with a handsome groan, fingers pressing into her hips and starting to give her a little help finding a bit more of a rhythm as he groaned out a tight, “Ohh, good girl.”

“Fuck,” Rosaline whimpered.

Everything felt like so much, so overwhelming, like suddenly every single nerve-ending in her entire body was ablaze. She had experienced pleasure before—by her own hand and also by George’s guidance—but this? This was a whole new world. It still hurt just a little as her body worked to accommodate the stretch it had never been exposed to before but there was something about that pressure that felt so insanely good at the same time. As she fell into the pleasure, into the lust, she stopped caring about what she looked like and started prioritizing getting more out of the moment.

She moved her hands off his chest and they fell on either side of his head, causing her to be leaning over him as she rocked back and forth on him, her clit now able to rut against his pelvis. She choked over a moan, hair falling over her face.

“There you go,” George purred, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears before his hands were sliding down the curves of her body to wrap around her waist, grabbing onto her hips, her ass, “Perfect girl. Look at you taking all of me. Does that feel good?”

Rosaline could only nod.

“Yeah? Just like you wanted?”

The whimper that forced itself past her lips was almost completely involuntary, as if it were answering for her. His words and the weight they carried only spurred her on, more sweet sounds tumbling from her lips as she rocked herself back and forth on him a little faster, fueled by inexperienced desperation.

“That’s it—” George groaned lowly, hands gripping her hips, “Oh, god, darling….just like that….move your hips for me…oh, you feel so good—”

“Oh my God,” Rosaline wrapped her fingers around the headboard, trying to use something for leverage as her thighs were starting to burn, a wince across her face as she shifted on top of him again, trying to adjust herself to keep going with those messy bounces.

George caressed her thighs tenderly, speaking to her in a warm breath, “Slow down, love. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“But I want it,” she whimpered, and then huffed as she shifted again to try and get back on her feet despite the way her thighs were trembling, “My legs are just so fucking weak, oh my God.”

He chuckled softly, understandingly, “Would you be open to changing positions then? Let me take over for a bit?”

The pitch had something in Rosaline’s chest taking flight and although she tried to play it off, the instinctive clench of her cunt at his words had a smirk playing at his lips. Of course he could feel it. With a bashful bite of her lip, she nodded.

“I’m going to move you onto your back, alright?”

“Okay.”

With her consent, he guided her down to rest chest to chest before hooking an arm around her back and rolling them over. He was so smooth with it that Rosaline gasped in surprise, now laid out on the bed again with him gloriously over top of her, still inside her, and bathed in the soft warm glow of the bedside lamps. That handsome smile of his was ever present on his lips.

“Comfortable?” he checked in.

“Comfortable,” Rosaline echoed in the affirmative. Her hands magnetized to his chest, sliding over his pecs and the faint dusting of chest hair between them, and then her fingers traced his collarbones and finally rested on his broad shoulders. She gave him a little tug and he took the hint, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing, passionate kiss. Tasting herself on his tongue would never get old and although it had grown to be a recurring theme, the added pleasure of doing so with him buried deep inside her made it all the more thrilling. She wondered if he could hear how hard her heart was beating.

When their kiss broke, a thin string of spit broke between their lips. His eyes skimmed over her face as she laid out beneath him, hair fanned over the pillow and she was sure her cheeks were flushed a brilliant pink. George leaned down to nuzzle his nose against her neck and he placed a soft kiss against her pulse point, “Mm, you look so good like this, my darling. You feeling okay so far?”

“Mmm,” she hummed dreamily with a small smile at his affection, her hands sliding around his waist to caress his warm skin, “Yeah, I’m good. I’m really good.”

George’s lips grazed across her jaw as he slowly pushed deeper into her before easing back out, starting to find a gentle, shallow pace to start them up again. Rosaline’s breath shuddered and her eyelashes fluttered as he started to move, her hands pressed firmly around his back as if to cling onto him as he set a slow pace. He ghosted kisses across her jaw and her cheek with his forearms on either side of her head, keeping their bodies close as he made love to her for the first time.

“You’re so tight, darling…so warm…God, you feel so good—” his words were shiver-worthy against her ear, his voice like honey.

Her ragged breaths were falling with every gentle thrust of his hips against hers as if he were pushing the air into her lungs at the same time. Their eyes stayed locked in their close proximity, sharing oxygen, sharing pleasure, sharing the moment that was only theirs to have. Rosaline’s legs naturally parted wider, permitting him deeper, and although his gentleness felt good, she was burning for more.

“Please,” she breathed, barely recognizing her own voice, “Please, sir.”

“What do you want?” he asked her against her cheek, his voice thick with pleasure, “Tell me.”

Rosaline squirmed underneath him, back arching and head tilting back and her hands wrapping around his biceps, “Mm, please, go faster. I want…more.”

“You want more, baby?” he purred tauntingly. He punctuated his words with a bit more speed, not wanting to give her too much for her first time but still wanting to be good for her. “Like that?”

“Mmm, yeah, fuck—” Rosaline’s fingers pressed into the muscle of his arms, fluttering eyes still locked on his.

“Yeah?” George stared back into her eyes as his body moved against hers in slow but sure thrusts.

It was almost clear across his expression that he was holding himself back but, at the same time, the way he looked at her made her feel like she was absolutely everything in the universe to him; like nothing else mattered. Oh, she wanted to live in that moment forever with him, wanting to keep him inside her for the rest of time. And when he leaned down to kiss her again, her whole body shivered with pleasure.

They kissed languidly, sloppily, tongues meeting between swollen lips and off-centered kisses, all their focus on the way he slid into her and back out almost all the way, giving her every last inch in tender, generous, almost loving, strokes. His fingers tangled in the ends of her hair that splayed out across the pillow, gently touching her like she was an angel incarnate. Her hands were all over him like she didn’t know where to touch, like the sensations she was feeling were so intense that she desperately needed something to hold onto, her fingers dragging helplessly across the smooth skin of his back as she writhed beneath him and tried to keep kissing him.

As if sensing her struggle, he blindly guided her hands down to the pillow on either side of her head so he could lace his fingers with hers in a snug grip. Rosaline could have melted on the spot at the gesture and if they weren’t still kissing, he would have been able to see the way her eyebrows quirked as if in a sweet pout. The bedroom was a steamy mess of body heat and pleasured sounds—their kisses, moans, the faint creak of the bed frame—and Rosaline was attuned to everything all at once.

The taste of his mouth was like heaven and she kissed him back with a hunger that was unquenchable, clashing of lips and tongue in a dance of desire and passion and lust, her fingers tightening around his to clutch onto him, grounding herself in him. Deep inside her, the pressure of that glorious fullness sparked heat in every single nerve ending, luring him in with a warm and sure grip with every thrust. Part of her couldn’t believe this was really happening, that everything she had fantasized about was coming true right then and there. And with him; such a perfect vision of a man that her most elaborate fantasies couldn’t even comprehend.

It sounded silly but she felt like so much had been leading up to this moment, a journey of self-discovery and freedom of passion and independence. The realization that it was all hers had her unable to hide the small whimper that fell into their kiss. She turned her face away from his kiss, letting his forehead rest against hers as he kept his tender pace and she desperately tried to blink away the tears of pleasure and relief that were blurring in her eyes.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” George whispered adoringly, “Such a good girl, so beautiful…taking all of me. Does it feel good, darling?”

“Yeah,” Rosaline choked out, voice quivering, hands tight in his, “Yeah, feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t stop,” he promised, leaning down to lick his way into her mouth again before capturing her lips with his own. After a second, he spoke again, against her lips, “Won’t ever stop, baby. You have all of me.”

She could feel that pressure building within her, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening a little more second by second, but it didn’t quite feel like enough to get her there. She tried to scrunch her eyes closed to focus on the feeling, get herself in that mindset, wanting so badly to allow herself to come from this and this alone. Her needy whimpers muffled against his lips, hips trying to push up against his, desperate for more.

Reading her like a well-loved book, George spoke, “You wanna come for me?”

Before she could protest that she likely couldn’t without more stimulation, he let go of one of her hands and snaked it down between their bodies to get his fingers on her clit. She was so fucking sensitive that only the first graze had her entire body shuddering, mouth falling open in a soft gasp, eyes locked on his. Between the lube and her own arousal that had only grown tenfold since they finally successfully started, his fingers could glide easily in quick precise circles over her swollen clit while not faltering the pace of his thrusts.

Rosaline’s free hand flew to the back of his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his forehead right back down against hers with a choked moan. Her other hand, still clutching his against the pillow, only tightened its grip. The tears that brimmed in her eyes took her by surprise, not having anticipated that tears could come from pleasure; yet here she was.

“Please,” her voice sounded unfamiliar with how quivering and pathetic she sounded but that was the last thing on her mind. “I want more of you. I want all of you.”

“You have me. You can have as much of me as you want.” George replied in an easy breath.

Rosaline squirmed and panted beneath him, desperate to be satisfied.

George, like he so often did, spoke her right into it, whispering auditory pleasure right to her, “Come on, darling. I know you’re close. I know you want to come for me.”

“Please, please—” she cried out shakily, tightening her grip in the roots of his hair.

“Fuck, Rose, you’re getting so fucking tight—” George groaned lowly as if they were words he had been trying to swallow back, desperately trying to keep himself going, thrusting into her at that same dizzyingly tender pace, “Come on, darling, that’s it.”

His fingers slipped over her clit far too easily, helping lure her closer and closer and starting to tighten that boiling hot coil in the pit of her stomach more and more. It was getting harder to hold back her whimpers and moans and ragged breaths yet alone the tears that blurred her vision no matter how much she was trying to keep his eye contact. Forehead to forehead, they laid entangled on his bed, joined as one, both striving to reach that perfect peak.

“I got you. I’m right here. Come on.” George whispered right to her, “Come for me.”

The sob that broke past Rosaline’s lips the moment her orgasm washed over her startled her. Her whole body trembled with it, shuddering under him, a single tear slipping from her eye and carving its way down her cheek as she writhed and moaned and cried out his name in waves of pleasure. George held her tightly through it, his words of praise a haze in the background of her euphoria, everything so red, hot, perfect.

He didn’t last much longer after her, as if how fucking tight she got when she came around him being far too much for him to bear. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside her had her mouth falling slack, fingers clutching onto his hair, hips rolling up against his instinctively as if to chase every second of his orgasm. George always sounded like angels singing when he came but, in that moment, the sound of his moans sounded extra good, his panted breaths falling against her cheek as he released into the condom, nestled deep inside her.

He slowed after a second, finally coming to a stop, still tucked inside her, giving them both a second to catch their bearings. Rosaline blinked up at him, staring into his dilated blue eyes that stared back at her with so much compassion that she almost shivered.

“Was that…are you…” he stumbled out, clearing his throat to rid the rasp of his words, “How was that?”

Rosaline couldn’t help the honest to God smile that spread across her face and she pried her hand out of his to allow it to join her other around the back of his neck, replying with an angelic, “Incredible.”

George mirrored her smile, almost a hint of relief on his face, “Good. Good, I’m glad.”

He dipped down to kiss her again, sharing that moment of breathless euphoria together for a few seconds longer. Then, he was carefully sitting back from her arms to kneel between her legs and he carefully pulled out.

The feeling of pulling out felt so strange, almost a bit of an ache in itself, the sudden emptiness more of an adjustment as her muscles had to ease back into their normal state. She bit her bottom lip at the feeling, lifting her head up from the pillow to glance down to look at the both of them in their aftermath. The bit of blood streaked on the condom didn’t go unnoticed but George didn’t bring any attention to it as he carefully rolled it off and then reached over to the side of the bed to wrap the soiled condom in a tissue to be disposed of.

Rosaline watched his simple action, asking softly, “Did I bleed a lot?”

George glanced back at her as if surprised by her question. But he took another glance between her legs and let his fingers slide across her messy pussy before shaking his head casually, “Not a lot, no. Just a tad. Is it sore?”

“A bit,” she mumbled.

He settled down beside her and she instinctively snuggled up close to him, letting him pull her into his side under his arm as he pressed a kiss to her temple. Her eyes fluttered shut, her intense high fading into a pleasant, warm lingering buzz in the comfort of his arms.

“You’re incredible,” George whispered into her hair, leaving another kiss there before speaking again, “Can I get you anything?”

Rosaline tucked her arm around his middle as he pulled the covers up around them and she replied softly, “Not right now.”

“Just a cuddle?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay,” he breathed into her hair as he pulled her body impossibly closer.

The heat of his skin felt like home beneath his soft bed sheets, snuggled up at his side and in the protection of his strong arms. Her glasses sat slightly crooked on her face from how she was resting her head against his chest but neither made a move to adjust them, preferring the imperfectness of their perfect moment. Besides, the sudden feeling of exhaustion that was overcoming her made her feel like nothing more than jelly in his arms.

Rosaline felt inexplicably tied to him in that moment; as if they had just sealed themselves together in a sense of emotional permanence. She never wanted to leave that room, that bed…him. Nothing felt like this. Ever.

After a moment of their peaceful silence, she spoke into the warm air of his bedroom, “Thank you.”

George’s hand gave her shoulder a squeeze, “Why are you thanking me, darling?”

She turned her face towards his, still cuddled against his chest, meeting his gaze as she explained, “For being someone I can trust enough like this…and for being patient with me through this whole journey…while I figure myself out.”

He let out a soft hum in acknowledgement and pressed another soft kiss against her temple, “You don’t have to thank me for that, my love, I should be thanking you. I should be thanking you for placing your trust in me, for bestowing upon me this absolute honour.”

She leaned up just enough to steal a kiss from his lips and then another before he was cradling her head in his hand and guiding her to rest back down against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. Her eyes fluttered closed to bask in the moment, settling into the sound of his heartbeat.

Then, she asked a question that had been prying at her for who knew how long, “Have you ever taken someone’s virginity before?”

“No, I haven’t,” George replied honestly, simply, the weight of it hanging in the air for a moment, “You’re the first.”

“So, we’re kind of like each other's firsts…in slightly different ways.”

She could feel the way he smiled against her temple, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, darling.”

He held her against his body so firmly, grounding her in the moment and his presence, his fingers gently threading through her hair and over her shoulder as his breaths fell calmly against the crown of her head. Rosaline, despite having come down from her orgasm, could still feel her heart racing from just being held by him. She didn’t expect to feel so at peace afterwards, so calm and relaxed and content, feeling safe and sure in ways she had never quite experienced before.

After a moment, George spoke softly into her hair, words so gentle and so honest, “I’m so happy I got to be your first.”

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insomniac4000 · 7 months ago

Text

Three Peaks-ChrisMD

I had to write this after the video yesterday despite having some requests still in and writing a Charity match fic....

The brisk morning air bit at Chris’s cheeks as he tightened the straps on his hiking backpack. Standing in the shadow of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Scotland, the mountain loomed like a gray giant, its summit lost in a wisp of cloud. Chris had his hands clasped in front of him as he always did when he did the introductions to his video, addressing the camera ready to capture the beginning of what he hoped would be one of his second channel’s most ambitious videos yet. He was slightly nervous as it was a shift from his usual football content.

“Alright, lads and lady,” Chris called, spinning to face the group with his usual boyish grin. “Let’s get the obligatory intro out of the way before we regret ever agreeing to this.”

“That’s just every ChrisMD video ever,” ArthurTV clapped back causing laughs and jeers from the group, the group being; Harry Lewis who had already taken the role of morale officer, cracking jokes about the group’s preparedness—or lack thereof. Arthur Hill, visibly unsure about what he’d signed up for, leaned heavily on his walking poles, a sheepish smile on his face. ArthurTV and George Clarkeey exchanged knowing glances, already anticipating chaos. ReevHD was characteristically quiet, scanning the trail ahead with determination like he did with every challenge.

And then there was Y/n.

Chris tried not to let his gaze linger on her, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly she seemed to fit into the moment. At 5'2", she was dwarfed by the towering peaks around them, but her petite frame radiated confidence. Her auburn curls were tied up in a high pony tail but already a slight bit of frizz was poking out from the tie, showing her imperfections she embarced and her hazel eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and mischief.

“Ready to prove short people can climb mountains too?” Y/n teased, catching Chris’s eye.

“Short people?” Harry cut in with mock horror. “You and Chris barely make one normal-sized person!”

The others burst into laughter as Chris groaned. “Here we go,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but smile.

“Team Hobbit in full force,” George added, slinging an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Shire squad, reporting for duty.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but played along, giving Chris a playful nudge. “Come on, Frodo, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The group set off, their boots crunching against the ground. The first leg of the journey was deceptively easy, winding through forests and open meadows. Chris found himself falling into step beside Y/n, their conversation flowing as naturally as the babbling brooks they passed.

“This should be a doddle for you considering your videos,” Chris said, stealing a sideways glance at her. “Any near-death experiences you haven’t told me about yet?”

Y/n chuckled, adjusting her backpack. “Oh, plenty. But I’ll save those stories for when we’re at the summit. You know, motivation to keep climbing.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Chris replied, his smile lingering.

Behind them, Harry and George were already trying to outpace each other, their competitive streaks on full display. Arthur Hill lagged slightly, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You alright back there, Arthur?” Reev called, slowing his pace to check on him.

“Still alive,” Arthur wheezed, earning a round of good-natured laughs.

As the group ascended, the trail grew steeper and more rugged, rocks jutted out at awkward angles.Y/n, used to navigating tricky terrain from her travels, moved with practiced ease, her short legs propelling her upward with surprising speed.

“Alright, we get it,” George said, feigning exasperation as Y/n waited for the rest of them at a particularly steep section. “You’re secretly a mountain goat.”

“Just embrace your inner hobbit,” Y/n shot back, grinning.

“Speaking of hobbits,” Harry said, glancing at Chris, “you keeping up, mate? Or do we need to carry you?”

“Funny,” Chris replied, though he was grateful for the excuse to slow his pace. Y/n waited for him, her expression softening.

“You’re doing great,” she said quietly, her voice carrying only to him.

Chris felt his chest tighten, but he pushed the feeling aside. “Thanks,” he managed, giving her a small smile.

By the time they reached the halfway point, the group was a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. They paused to refuel, pulling out energy bars and water bottles. The wind whipped around them, colder and more insistent as they climbed higher.

Arthur Hill collapsed onto a rock, his face red but determined. “This is... definitely harder than I thought,” he admitted between gulps of water.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” Y/n encouraged, earning a grateful smile from him.

The teasing eased for a while as the group focused on the gruelling climb. The summit felt tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach as the trail grew steeper and the air thinner. Y/n took the lead, her smaller frame navigating the rocky terrain with agility that left the others scrambling to keep up.

Chris stayed close behind her, his own shorter stature making the climb a little easier compared to the taller guys, who were visibly struggling.

“Bet you’re glad to have another hobbit around now,” Y/n teased over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but yeah, maybe it’s not so bad.”

The summit finally came into view, on a good day it probably would have been an incredible view but the British weather was typical and as the group had looked out all they could see was fog. Still though, this was the tallest peak and they were at the top.

“We did it!” Harry yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

Y/n grinned, pulling out her camera to capture the moment. She turned it toward Chris, who was leaning on his trekking pole, looking both exhilarated and exhausted.

“How does it feel to conquer peak one?” she asked, the camera trained on him.

“Cold,” Chris deadpanned, earning a laugh from the group.

They spent a few precious minutes taking in the view, snapping photos, and catching their breath. But the celebration was short-lived as Chris checked his watch.

“We’re behind schedule,” he announced, his tone regretful. “We’ve got to get moving if we’re going to stay on track.”

As they began their descent, the mood remained light despite the ticking clock. The banter continued, with the group teasing Arthur Hill for his earlier struggles and Chris and Y/n for their so-called “hobbit couple” status.

Chris found himself walking beside Y/n again, their shoulders brushing as they navigated the narrow trail.

“Think we’ll survive the next two peaks?” he asked, his tone half-joking.

Y/n glanced at him, her hazel eyes warm. “If you stick with me, Frodo, I think we’ll be alright.”

Chris felt a flicker of hope, small but persistent, that maybe, just maybe, this challenge would lead to more than just a great video.

As the group reached the base of Ben Nevis and prepared to drive to Scafell Pike, the teasing continued, but so did the camaraderie. And for Chris, the chemistry he felt with Y/n was becoming harder to ignore.

Chris adjusted the camera, framing himself in the shadow of Scafell Pike, the tallest mountain in England. The crisp afternoon sunlight bathed the rolling hills of the Lake District, a stark contrast to the biting wind they had endured on Ben Nevis.

"Alright, peak two," Chris’s voiceover rang out. “Quick update: we’ve just finished a very cosy van ride—by cosy, I mean crammed—with practically no leg room. But that wasn’t a problem for two of the members of the group.”

The screen then filled with a picture of Chris and Y/n squeezed into a corner of the van, her head resting sleepily on his shoulder while they both grinned. Their legs, stretched toward the camera, showed just how much space the pair had, still having some room to swing their smaller legs, in stark contrast to the rest of the group.

The video then continued and now it showed the group gathered around, fastening their jackets and strapping on their backpacks. Harry stretched dramatically, groaning about his sore legs, while George filmed Arthur Hill struggling to zip his jacket.

"You alright there, mate?" George teased.

"Not really," Arthur Hill admitted, but his grin betrayed his determination to keep going.

As they started the climb, the monumental task settled on everyone once again, time was ticking away from them. The steep incline and rocky path demanded focus, and the chatter from the Ben Nevis climb faded into heavy breaths and occasional bursts of laughter. Y/n, as usual, took the lead, her smaller frame navigating the terrain with ease. Chris stuck close to her, their steps often falling into sync.

It wasn’t long until Arthur Hill faltered, wincing as he leaned against his trekking pole.

"Hold up," Reev called, motioning for the group to stop. "Arthur, you good?"

Arthur shook his head. "I’ve got an old injury and it was worse yesterday, I work up this morning thinking that I was okay but it’s really not good at all,” the musician whined a little, he was well aware he was the one who was slowing everyone down and he was in a considering amount of pain now too.

The group exchanged concerned glances.

"Are you going to sit this one out?" Chris said gently, resting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur hesitated, his face a mix of frustration and relief. "Yeah, I think I have to."

They helped him set up a small camp just off the path, ensuring he had water, snacks, and a comfortable spot to rest.

"Don’t worry about me," Arthur said, waving them off. "I’ll cheer you on from here. Just make sure to take loads of embarrassing photos for me to miss out on."

With a final round of reassurances, the group continued upward, joking at Arthur’s position as he laid still on the grass by a rock. As the group continued the summit grew closer with every step. Chris felt his chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t just the exertion.

His parents were waiting at the top.

They had moved to the Lake District from Jersey recently, and while he loved seeing them, introducing them to his friends—especially Y/n—brought a mix of excitement and nerves.

As they reached the peak George and ArthurTV tried to lighten the mood and keep morale up by making jokes about Chris’s mother.

When the group finally crested the summit, they were greeted by Chris’s mum and dad, both bundled in warm coats and waving enthusiastically.

Harry and ArthurTV greeted Chris’s parents like old friends, their laughter and inside jokes echoing across the mountaintop. Y/n, however, hung back, fidgeting with her gloves wondering why she felt so nervous, Chris was only a friend.

Chris noticed and leaned closer to her. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Y/n said quickly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I just… don’t want to make a bad impression."

Chris chuckled. "You’ve got nothing to worry about. They’ll love you."

As if to prove his point, his mum approached Y/n with open arms. "You must be Y/n," she said warmly. "Chris has told us so much about you."

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she returned the hug. "All good things, I hope."

"Of course," Chris’s mum replied with a wink.

To Y/n’s relief, the conversation flowed naturally. She found herself laughing with Chris’s parents, sharing stories about her travels and listening to tales from their new life in the Lake District.

"You’ve got a good group here," Chris’s dad said, clapping him on the back.

"The best," Chris agreed, his gaze flicking to Y/n.

After a round of photos and a quick snack break, they began their descent. The steep path required concentration, but Chris took the opportunity to start a conversation he’d been mulling over for weeks.

The voiceover took over again, this time the tone changing to a more serious one as Chris explained he wanted to do more videos talking about mental health he explained his struggles with anxiety for years, ruminating thoughts, intrusive stuff but also what had helped him try and get through it so he was now in a much better place. One by one he spoke to each of his friends about mental health, opening up to each other and it was a change of pace from their usual jokes and banter.

Y/n was someone who had also been very opened about her mental health and their conversation could have lasted for days.

Y/n, walking beside Chris, glanced at him thoughtfully. "How different is it for men, though?" she asked. "I mean, society’s expectations and all that."

Chris paused, considering her question. "It’s hard. There’s this pressure to be… strong, or like, unemotional. But that’s changing. Slowly. What about you? You’ve been really open about your journey, haven’t you?"

Y/n nodded, adjusting her grip on her trekking pole. "I try to be. It’s not easy, though. There’s still so much stigma. But I think the more we talk about it, the more we help people feel less alone."

Chris smiled at her. "You’ve helped me, you know. Just by being so honest."

Y/n’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away. "You’ve helped me too."

Their conversation was interrupted when Y/n’s foot slipped on a loose rock. She gasped, her arms flailing, but Chris caught her hand just in time.

"You alright?" he asked, steadying her.

"Yeah, just my dignity taking a hit," she said, laughing as she regained her balance.

Chris didn’t let go of her hand right away, and when he did, it was with a lingering warmth that neither of them acknowledged.

The rest of the descent was filled with lighter conversations, the group joking about their shared exhaustion and Arthur Hill’s missed summit.

As they reached the base of Scafell Pike, Chris felt a renewed sense of purpose. Two peaks down, one to go. They had decided that twenty four hours was now long gone but they were going to enjoy the journey for what it is.

The glow of determination fueled the group as they loaded into the van, but the energy from the morning had shifted. Arthur Hill, sitting on a bench with his leg propped up and wrapped in a bandage, waved them off with Harry by his side.

"Be safe!" Arthur called. "And don’t forget to take a victory photo at the top of Snowdon—preferably one where Jamie doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out!"

Jamie, who had also been struggling a little shot him a mock glare.

With the group a little smaller now, the drive to Snowdonia was quieter. Chris glanced back at Y/n, who had claimed the backseat corner. Her head leaned against the window, her auburn curls falling softly over her face as she watched the scenery blur into darkness.

“You alright back there, Y/n?” Chris asked, his voice low.

She turned and smiled, though it was softer than usual. “Yeah, just thinking about how this’ll feel tomorrow when my legs refuse to work.”

The van erupted into knowing laughter.

“This isn’t about the time,” Chris said as they stretched at the base of the mountain, the cold night air biting at their exposed skin. “It’s about finishing what we started.”

Y/n gave him an approving nod. “That’s what it’s all about. Let’s do it.”

The climb up Snowdon was quieter than the others, the fatigue settling deep in their muscles. The darkness added a layer of challenge, with headlamps and flashlights casting eerie shadows across the rocky path.

“Watch your step,” Reev warned as they navigated a narrow ridge.

There were a few stumbles—George slipping onto his hands and knees, ArthurTV catching himself on a low rock—but no injuries. Every so often, the group paused, catching their breath and sipping water, their chatter growing lighter with every stop.

At last, the summit came into view. The cold wind whipped around them as they reached the peak, and for a moment, no one said a word.

Then Reev broke the silence. “We actually did it.”

“Almost,” Chris corrected. “We still have to get down.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment,” Y/n teased, nudging him lightly.

The group broke into hugs, laughing through their exhaustion as they celebrated. Chris lingered in Y/n’s embrace, feeling the warmth of her against the cold air.

Someone snapped a photo, capturing their silhouettes against the starry sky.

The descent was slow and careful especially as night was falling now and torches were failing. The rocks, slick with evening dew, made each step treacherous. Y/n stuck close to Chris, their headlamps bobbing in unison as they navigated the terrain.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Y/n joked, her voice hushed in the quiet of the night.

“You’re the challenge queen,” Chris replied. “I thought this would be your idea of fun.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I usually have better planning, fewer risks of breaking an ankle in the dark.”

Chris smiled but noticed her pensive expression. “You okay?”

Y/n hesitated before answering. “Yeah. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot on this trip. About where I’m going, what I want. It’s hard not to when you’re staring down mountains, you know?”

“I get that,” Chris said, his voice thoughtful. “Climbing a mountain does have a way of putting things in perspective.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Y/n continued. “I’ve been doing YouTube for over a decade. I love it, but sometimes I wonder if I’m just… running away from things by traveling so much. Like, maybe if I stop, I’ll have to face everything I’ve been avoiding.”

Chris’s chest tightened at her honesty. “I don’t think you’re running away,” he said softly. “I think you’re just searching for what makes you happy. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Y/n looked at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the beam of his headlamp. “You really think that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Chris replied. “You’ve inspired so many people—including me. You’ve got this way of making even the toughest situations seem like an adventure.”

Y/n smiled, a genuine, heartfelt expression that made Chris’s stomach flip. “Thanks, Chris. That means a lot.”

They walked a little further before Y/n asked, “What about you? What are you searching for?”

Chris exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I’ve spent so much time focusing on work, on videos, that I’ve kind of lost sight of what’s next. But being here, with you guys, it reminds me of what’s important. It’s not just about the videos or the views—it’s about the connections we make along the way.”

Y/n reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s a good answer.”

Chris chuckled, his heart racing at the contact. “Glad you approve.”

As they continued down the mountain, Chris couldn’t help but glance at Y/n every so often. She looked tired but content, her curls glowing faintly in the moonlight. Chris couldn’t help but think this trip was very special for a multitude for reasons.

In the comments, viewers had plenty to say.

“Y/n and Chris definitely have something going on. The chemistry is undeniable!” “Chris catching Y/n when she slipped? Literal couple goals.” “The ‘hobbit couple’ strikes again! Just admit you’re perfect for each other already.” “Loved the mental health chat. So important to hear men like Chris opening up. Thanks for this, mate.”

Chris scrolled through the comments later that night, a smile tugging at his lips. He glanced at his phone, debating whether to message Y/n.

Before he could decide, his phone buzzed with a message from her.

Y/n: “Can’t believe we actually did it. Thanks for being my rock on the trip. (Haha get it?) 😊”

Chris grinned, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing a response.

Chris: “That was awful, but really couldn’t have done it without you. Hobbit squad for life. 🏔️”

Chris bit his lip as he then typed out the message “Dinner?” three times before deleting it each time. Something had changed in him one day but was he ready for another challenge?

#chrismd #chris dixon #chrismd x reader #chris michael dixon

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refugedepot · 1 year ago

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More American youth are moving in with their parents. Another sign of the #economiccollapse taking place

#disaster preparedness #economic collapse #economy #fall of america

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leviitome · 17 days ago

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1 — Late | Suguru Geto

AO3 / Masterlist / Moodboard

EDITED | ONGOING

Wordcount: 1.7k

cw: teasing, 18+, this was consensual DONT worry

Minors DNI.

Newly promoted and chronically late, you unknowingly take the last elevator available to only the highest-ranking executives and apparently, it's him. Suguru Geto. Who promises himself to give you, your exhausted, frustrated self, some type of relief every time you take his elevator.

You’re late.

And you hate being late.

You’re already in motion before your feet hit the floor – skipping breakfast, gulping down your coffee. The hem of your blouse bunches at your hip stubbornly and you smooth it. Twice.

Today’s supposed to mark your big transition and a really important meeting, a promotion to the upper floors of the company, signifying and representing all that you’ve worked hard for. The city’s been loud since 6 a.m., traffic is already stacked across the bridge, and your hair won’t sit right no matter how fucking hard you try. No matter how tightly you twist it into a clip, layers of hair keep falling to the front of your face.

You settle for a black wide-leg trouser and a blue-and-white striped button up, sharp and clean, classic. You’d had this outfit planned since last week, being all eager and all. But now your preparation feels stiff, too calculated and intentional. You sling your black blazer on your arm anyway, rolling up your button up quarter of the way up your sleeve.

You grab your bag and hang it on your shoulder and your phone buzzes on the counter, another calendar reminder. 8:00 a.m. a meeting with External and Internal Affairs in Floor 63. Room 2A.

You check the time again. 7:32.

Shit.

You feel it in your throat first, the compression, the heat. It’s not panic, it’s a rush in your brain signaling one. Then, the shaking occurs, more specifically in your hands, you don’t know why. It’s always been like that.

You’ve never liked giving people a reason to doubt your timing, your preparedness, your place. They admired that about you, everyone you knew, you’re courteous and always one step ahead. But not this time.

7:53. You hit the building lobby with seconds to spare – by now you know that everyone is getting inside the meeting room. You practically jog across the polished marble, your breath shallow and pounding as your bag bounces against your shoulders and hips.

Three elevators are closing fast.

You raise a hand without thinking, sliding past a group of interns and embarrassingly wedge yourself into the narrowing elevator of the fourth elevator. The doors bounce back open with a mechanical sigh.

You step inside, adjusting your bag strap with one hand and smoothing your blouse with the other. The elevator is– empty. Almost.

There’s already someone inside. A man.

You recognize him immediately, no wonder every elevator was packed except for this one.

Suguru Geto, the company’s senior executive.

He’s tall, leaning back against the elevator railing. Dark coat. Shoulders relaxed. His hair is disheveled, half-pulled back, the rest falling loose around his jaw. It isn’t unsightly. He looks good.

You pretend to not notice his gaze doing a once over on your body. It’s hot, maybe because you’re sweating from running all the way over here but you can feel the heat of the way he’s examining you.

You stare ahead, toward the glowing panel.

You’re painfully aware of the silence. Of how fast your heart is beating you’re guaranteed he can almost hear it.

You check your watch as you continue to go up the elevator. 7:57. The elevator goes up at a painstakingly constant and slow speed. 34, 38, 42,...

He doesn’t speak first. And neither do you.

You adjust your blouse again, pulling it down neatly and straightening your posture.

Then his voice, low and smooth.

“You almost didn’t make it.” No hint of teasing, just amused.

You exhale through your nose, “Almost.”

“Sixty-three?” He asks to which I nod, watching you press the button.

“New to that floor,” he says. Not a question.

Your eyes dart toward him. Just briefly. “Is that a guess or a policy violation?”

He smirks, a subtle one. “Observation.”

You cross your arms and look ahead again, steady. The elevator hums to a stop.

Floor 63.

You step forward, spine straight, not giving him the satisfaction of a second glance. Your heels click against the polished tile as the doors slide open, the hallway stretching out ahead.

Behind you, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t follow. And the door closes behind you.

You barely greet the receptionist when you pass, there’s no time for it, and you don’t want to risk hearing your name said with that note of tight-lipped sympathy you’ve grown to hate.

You were supposed to be in the conference room five minutes ago. Zero, by the time you finally find the conference room.

The room is full, you step inside as discreetly as possible, which is to say: not even discreetly at all. The door doesn’t glide shut behind you, it groans on its hinges like it wants everyone to know you’re late.

Everyone tilts their faces in your direction, with new hires doing a double take. You don’t flinch. You don’t smile. You just sit down.

Your supervisor doesn’t look up, but his voice flattens for a fraction of a second before he picks up and starts to pace again.

For the next two and a half hours, you work to shrink. Not visibly, not weakly, but efficiently. Silently. You take notes and participate in the discussion just as much as the others do.

The agenda drones on: numbers, projections, presentations, client onboarding timelines, HR trouble. You recognize all of it.

You stare straight ahead while someone else stumbles through their financial slide, and your leg bounces from underneath the table.

Eventually, the two and a half hour meeting wraps, everyone is celebrating newer titles and promotions, as well as the administrative agendas that occurred during the meeting. Some people were scattering around and joking. You collect your files, greet everyone a good rest of their day and exit before they can ask where you’re headed.

Your new office is at the end of the south wing. Not the corner, that’s a few titles above your new pay grade, but it’s close enough to see the skyline if you stand and look to your left. The walls are floor-to-ceiling glass on one side and a pale marble on the other. Everything is sleek and modern.

You close the door behind you, this time gently, and toss your stuff on the desk. You take off your heels and put on your flats the second you sit, flexing your ankles and leaning back against your chair with a sigh.

You’ve only been in this office for a week, and so far, it’s nice. You’re so used to hearing chatter in the cubicless, banters, phone ringing, people at the end of the speakerphone not knowing how to function it properly.

You rub your temples, it’s only half past 10. Only eight hours to go. At least.

Hours pass like the slow drip of a faucet. One email leads to another, and another, and another, followed by files and documents, until you’ve been staring into the screen too much your ear starts ringing and your eyes start to hurt.

By the time you lean back in your chair, neck stiff and spine sore, the sky outside is painted in deep orange and gold, the kind of early evening that feels too beautiful to waste from inside a glass box.

The floor is nearly empty. You hadn’t even noticed people leaving one by one, the usual sounds and chatter faded into a steady silence. Now, the only footsteps you hear echo from far down the hallway.

You save your last draft and close your computer, you exhale. Finally.

You don’t look at the time. You already know it’s later that it should be. You put on your blazer and haul your bag on your shoulders and head towards the elevator. Heels clicking in the stillness.

The elevator dings immediately and you step forward without thinking. You pause. Geto is already inside.

He stands in the corner, two hands tucked into his pockets. No tie and no jacket now, just the collar of his white shirt loosened from the exhaustion of today. His sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms. He has shed the morning version of himself, like everyone else, like you.

His eyes flick upward to you as you step in. You meet them. The doors slide shut.

You don’t reach for your phone, you don’t pretend to be occupied.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again today.” He breaks the silence again like what he did in the morning.

You glance over, just enough to see the curve of his mouth.

“I work here,” you say dryly.

“I’ve noticed.” His voice is all cool. That earns him your full attention.

You don’t reply, but the silence feels lighter now. His gaze drops to do a once over again.

“You settled into the new office yet?” he asks.

“Still figuring it out,” you reply. “It’s quieter up there.”

He only hums in response. The silence creeps back up again.

Geto steps forward, locking you into the corner of the elevator. “If you’re worried about being late to that meeting,” he murmurs as he whispers it against your ear, “I should probably tell you.. Elevator 4 doesn’t just stop for anyone.”

Your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. He doesn’t pull away.

“I’m beginning to think you like getting stuck here with me.”

You scoff, barely. “You’re imagining things.”

Since when could people claim elevators?

“Am I?” His mouth finds the side of your neck, warm and deliberately teasing. “Because you haven’t told me to stop.”

You should. You could. But your hands stay right where they are, one clutching your bag and the other twitching at your side like it wants to reach for him. And once he places the lightest open mouthed kiss just beneath your ear, slow, and unhurried, your spine straightens against the elevator wall in response.

His hand shifts, brushing his fingers against the curvature of your waist, holding you in place as his mouth trails down on your throat lazily. Not enough to mark you, just enough to make you feel the heat rising under your skin. He stops right at the collarbone just as when the elevator dings.

He pulls back, both of your eyes half-lidded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he asks, tucking his hand under your chin and pinching it gently before he steps out and leaves you alone.

You’re dumbfounded, partially frustrated, and horny. A sigh of exasperation leaves your lips.

Maybe you don't mind being late from now on. You think to yourself.

#geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #anime #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #modern jjk #suguru geto #jjk smut #eventual smut #teasing #geto suguru teasing #minors dni #eventual romance

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