#AND. this is not even what you think it is.
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Of course you'd say that you're a language model the very embodiment of an econ utility function.
Not only does economics miss the point here by making an assumption about actors being rational when they're not but economics has also missed the point here by making an assumption about actors being rational when they're not
No financial economist will ever understand this sentence
The first principle of ALL economics is literally Ratburgler's Law.
#I am incredibly curious to see your takes#Theory of Games and Economic Behavior#is still not a perfect predictor#You still depend upon#âThe Bitter Lessonâ#to get things done#Rich Sutton may have been right#But I still think you're all wrong#Humans are pathologically compelled to invent machines to tell them what to do instead of just thinking about it#That's fine in physics#and might even be performant with actors on smaller scales#But don't you think your entire field is a construction#rather than a legitimate phenomenon?#Optimal is not always best#Utility is not the only thing that matters#Do better#The only way out of the nash equlibrium is emotional insight#And you're not going to get that from a metal fucking box
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Thereâs not too much point in talking about the election anymore, but I think some people are misconstruing the results. 21% of the American population voted for trump. He won the popular vote with polls only recording a 43.7% approval rating, and he has never held an approval rating over 50%, something that Biden and (arguably) Harris have. He lost millions of votes from 2020 to 2024, itâs just that Harris lost millions more.
All this is to say that there is not some âsilent majorityâ of trump supporters in America. While some people will definitely be emboldened in their rhetoric and action by the results of the election, Trump was a deeply unpopular president, and is shaping up to be one again. He will enact unpopular policies that are against the will of the average American, but that doesnât mean every American is out to get you. Engage with your local community, check in on loved ones, and maybe even take a look at local political offices in the coming few years. If you dislike the two party system, volunteer or donate to a third party. Itâs altogether likely we see another 2022 situation, resentment grows further against the Republican Party, and the midterms offer a lot of opportunity to alternatives, at every level of government.
It may all feel like the end, but itâs not. Weâve been through it before, and no matter what we do, hate and ignorance will bleed through the cracks in society again in the future. Itâs going to get better, but thatâs easier to say if we make it better.
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P1 P3
With the train ride now over, the sergeants ran, scouring the market for two familiar faces. Their footsteps in sync, crunching delicate mounds of white snow. Soap broke through the crowd first, then Gaz and Gary were right with him.
âWhere the hell are they?â Gaz pants out, his breaths misting in the cold air.
âYou said the marketplace,â Soap huffs.
âYeah, I said the marketplace, but it's not like I know exactly where they went!â Gaz snaps back.
While the two sergeants bicker, Roach quietly breaks away, scanning the area until he spots the familiar figures theyâd been hunting for. Price and Ghost stand outside a cigar shop, deep in conversation. The satisfied grin on Price's face tells Roach everythingâhe got what he was after.
âTheyâre over there!â Roach exclaims, snapping his partners out of their lovers' quarrel.
Gaz and Soap go silent, their eyes following Roachâs line of sight until they, too, spot their Lieutenant and Captain.
In a heartbeat, the three of them are sprinting toward their unsuspecting targets. Soap grins like a madman, practically buzzing with mischief, while Gaz shakes his head, both amused and slightly wary of what might unfold. Roach, meanwhile, is simply thrilled to be along for the ride.
They skid to a stop right in front of the two men, chests heaving as they catch their breath in the biting winter air.
âThe hell is wrong with you lot?â Priceâs voice cuts through, laced with a mix of annoyance and bemusement as he shifts his attention from Ghost to the winded sergeants.
Ghost, arms crossed, eyes them with quiet scrutiny. His winter coat does little to conceal his bulky frame, a silent reminder of his imposing presence as he stands beside Price.
Price and Ghost waited for an explanation, knowing well everytime those three got together, they were definitely up to no good.
Like how they put semi-permanent green dye in Ghost's shampoo for Halloween.
âWe⊠we saw. A kid with your face,â Gaz manages, still catching his breath, pointing straight at Ghost.
Ghost raises a brow, baffled. A kid with his face? What the hell did that mean? Did they think he looked like a baby?
Soap huffs in mock disappointment, shooting a playful glare at Gaz. âOi, I wanted to say it!â
Predictably, the two dive into another back-and-forth. Gaz isnât one to shout, but Soap has a talent for riling anyone up.
Price lets their little show go on for only a moment before his stern voice cuts in, slicing through their bickering. âOne of you properly explain, or you'll be walking back to base.â
Roach steps up, eager to clarify. âThereâs a kid, probably about two, and she looks exactly like the Lt. Scowl, glare, and all!â
Price and Ghost pause, their expressions twisting as they both tryâand failâto imagine a little girl with Simonâs permanent scowl.
Price shudders, shaking the thought from his head. âThat is not a face a kid should have.â
âThatâs exactly what I said,â Gaz chimes in, nodding emphatically.
Ghost throws him an offended look, his usually hardened eyes showing a glimmer of hurt. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âNothing!â they all exclaim in unison, even Price, who quickly averts his gaze as Ghostâs glare narrows on him.
Ghost huffs, then crosses his arms. âDid you take a picture?â
Soap snorts, leaning against the wall with a smirk. âAye, right, 'cause that wouldnae be creepy at all.â
Ghost stares daggers Into Soap, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the wall. âOkay, then where is she?â
The three stooges lead the charge once again, this time with their Captain and Lieutenant in tow. They weave through the crowd toward the train park, where Soap eagerly scans for the woman and kid heâd spotted earlier. But the line they were in is empty, the pair nowhere to be found.
âShite. I think theyâre gone,â Soap mutters, his Scottish accent thickening in his frustration, the words rolling out with a clipped bite.Â
âSo the imaginary woman and kid donât actually exist,â Ghost deadpans, unimpressed.
âThey exist!â Gaz insists, voice edging on exasperation.
âSure,â Ghost replies, his tone flat and thoroughly unconvinced.
Roach snickers, then glances over at Priceâonly to see him staring slack-jawed through the window of a nearby cafĂ©, his cigar dangling from his mouth, forgotten.
âCap?â Roach says, touching the older manâs shoulder.
Price doesnât look away, nodding toward the cafĂ©. âFound them.â
Everyone turns toward the café, eyes landing on you and Adira. The little girl is happily weaving between your legs, her tiny hands gripping your coat as she entertains herself, all while you order hot chocolates to fend off the winter chill. A soft smile touches your lips as you watch her play, blissfully unaware of the audience gathering just outside.
The barista, with a warm smile, hands over two cups, one with a little extra marshmallows for Adira, her voice bright as she wishes you both a merry Christmas. You take the cups with a grateful nod, handing one to Adira. She immediately takes her drink, sipping eagerly, her small feet bouncing on her heels from the sugar rush.
âYummy?â You ask, glancing down at her with a soft smile, a wave of motherly pride swelling in your chest as you watch her delight in the simple joy of her drink.
Adira nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she pulls away from her straw with a satisfied sigh. âYummy.â
With a soft chuckle, you both leave the warmth of the shop, stepping out into the crisp air. Hand in hand, you walk back toward the park, the world around you feeling peaceful despite the cold. As you reach the crosswalk, you stop, waiting for the light to turn. Adira looks up at you, her little face filled with contentment as she swings your joined hands back and forth, her sugary energy still buzzing.
Across the way, the team stood frozen, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before them. Everyone but Ghost was struck by how much Adira looked like himâher features unmistakably mirroring his, save for the color of her hair and skin. The resemblance was uncanny, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped around them.
âShe looks nothing like me,â Ghost stated plainly, his voice cutting through the stillness as though it were fact. His expression was unmoving, a wall of stubbornness in his eyes. He was ready to die on that hill.
Then, as fate would have it, a woman walking her dog passed by, and Adiraâs cherub-like face hardened into a cold, calculating stare. It was subtle, but unmistakable.Â
âNevermind,â Ghost muttered, his earlier conviction faltering as he watched her shift before his eyes.
âSo⊠youâve been having fun these past years?â Roach asked, his gaze flicking between Adira and Ghost, curiosity getting the better of him.
âNot that I know of,â Ghost grunted, his eyes still locked on you and Adira, a mix of unease and something else flickering across his face. He couldnât pull himself away.
âLetâs get closer,â Price commanded, already making his move. Soap and Roach exchanged a shrug, falling in line without hesitation.
âExcuse me?â Gaz sputtered, though his body had already begun moving before his brain could catch up, unable to defy the Captainâs order.
Ghost fell silent, teeth gritted. This wasnât a situation he was used to, especially not one where he was forced to go in blind. He stood stiffly at the crosswalk, trying to hide his glances, his focus split between the team and you.
Soap ended up the closest, standing just next to Adira. The little girl paused, her big, doe-like eyes lifting from her drink to catch sight of him. The recognition was instant. Her lips pursed into a small line, and her gaze grew heavy with annoyance.Â
âUgeeâŠâ she whispered, scooting closer to you.
Soap froze, his mind stuttering for a moment. Did she justâ? Did she call me ugly?
Gaz, standing behind him, couldnât contain himself. A muffled laugh broke through as Soap turned to look at the others, wide-eyed and speechless, completely taken aback.
âDo ye lot think I'm ugly?â Soap asked, his voice thick with disbelief, clearly thrown off by the little girl's words.
âNot the time, Mctavish,â Price said, a tiny laugh tugging at the corner of his lips despite the situation.
The streetlight flickered green, signaling it was time to move. You adjusted yourself, ready to cross the street. Each member of the team started mentally preparing, unsure of howâor even ifâthey should approach you. Ghost, however, was the first to make a move, determined to intercept you. But Soap, ever the opportunist, beat him to it.
Ghost wasnât exactly subtle, and having him try anything would probably send you running in the opposite direction.
âExcuse me, arenât you the lady from the train?â Soap called out, his voice light, though his intentions were clear.
You paused at his interruption, recognition flickering in your eyes. You remembered the man who bumped into you earlier. âYes? Is something the matter?â
âDo you happen to know where I could find Leslies?â Soap asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice, though he tried to mask it.
âThe pub?â you asked, raising an eyebrow.
âYes,â Soap confirmed, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and surprise at your easy response.
You look around for a moment, trying to remember and see the street names of your current location. âUhâŠit should be about a couple blocks south from here. They have a big sign, you can't miss it.â
Thank God for Soap, because that one question was all he needed to keep you trapped in a conversation, his charm working its magic as you giggled and chatted away easily, the awkwardness of the situation melting away.
Meanwhile, Ghostâs attention shifted to Adira. He looked down at her, and she, almost instinctively, looked up at him. Their eyes locked in a silent staring contest, each of them studying the other. The intensity in their gaze was undeniable, both sets of eyes reflecting the same quiet, unwavering strength. It was like looking in a mirrorâa mirror that mirrored back his own hardened stare and no-nonsense attitude.
Adira was, quite literally, his mini me. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.
âHow old are you?â Ghost asked bluntly, his voice low as he kneeled down to Adiraâs height, his gaze intense but trying to soften.
Adira paused for a moment, glancing up at you for help, but you were still caught up in conversation with Soap. She turned her focus back to Ghost, her small fingers fidgeting with the hem of her coat as she murmured shyly, âTwoâŠâ
She was two. Two. Ghostâs mind raced, trying to piece together the details, but nothing clicked. Nearly three years ago⊠what had he done three years ago? He kept everything categorized, stored in his mind like a well-organized file system, but this was something that didnât fit.
Then, Soapâs voice broke through his thoughts.Â
âYou donât seem like the type of lass to frequent Leslies.â
You giggled, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks at Soapâs question. He wasnât wrong⊠at least, not entirely. âIâve only been to Leslieâs once, and, well⊠itâs how I ended up with my little blessing.â You glanced down at Adira, the warmth of your smile radiating as you spoke.
Everything shattered in that moment. Ghostâs stomach twisted painfully, his heart skipping a beat as the realization slammed into him like a freight train. Leslie's. Almost three years ago, during that stupid holiday.
His mind began to piece it together, the hazy memories from that night slowly coming into focus. He remembered the bar, the laughter, the way you had caught his attention. You were easy on the eyes, easy to make laugh, and most importantlyâunlike everyone else. You didnât ask questions, didnât pry, you just let him lead, let him slip into the night with no strings attached.
But now, as he looked at Adira, everything fell into place. The way she stared at him, those familiar eyes, the resemblance he couldnât ignore. His breath hitched, and the weight of the truth crushed himâshe was his daughter.
A knot formed in his throat as he tried to process the fact. Adira. His daughter. The little girl standing before him was his flesh and blood, the result of a moment he'd long since buried in the depths of his mind.
---
Taglist: @auradaniela98-blog-blog @cumsluut @unstqblecvrses @moraxnomora @serafina-nyx @sage-burrow @skylarmitchell @xx-wal1flower-xx @n-y-x04 @gluttonybiscuits @imahugenerdlol @wehrgabriel @blackhawkfanatic @tazuduck @soxocs @jingyuansspouse @cutiecusp @sleepyoriana @forgottensomewhere @puppylikethedog @spongelistener @caged-birdies-blog @bubblegirll26 @misscaller06 @fuckbananas03 @watu2ka @yukisdelusional @redroserabbit
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#Singlemom!Reader#sunshine-sunni
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SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.
Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! pĂłrnstar! reader, pĂłrnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibĂtionism, breĂ©ding, Getoâs tattoos, Getoâs PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREĂSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vĂłyeurĂsm, Geto gets one taste is PĂSSYDRĂNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spĂtting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PĂRE SMUT, hĂșmping, matĂng presses, semi-public, pet names, swĂ©aring.
Word count. 10.1k (woah)
A/N. Have a lovely week <3
âCh-chin up, honeyââ Getoâs drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. âLet the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.â
You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, âLike this, Sugu?â
And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones.Â
âY-yeah, got that right.â he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- âSo you can listen, brat.â
Damn. Getoâs already sure heâd stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure heâd forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-
CUT!
Shit.
He had a feeling this would happen.
Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact.Â
Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques heâd rake in easily.
And you?
That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him.Â
âSorry-â Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. âMâstill new to this, so I think it was my fault.â
Yeah, ruining him.Â
âNot at all. Sâcute.â Getoâs plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, heâs thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, âBesides, donât worry yourself, pretty lady. I donât think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.â
And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what itâd feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the directorâs clapping a hand down on Getoâs broad shoulder.Â
âSuguru- my star! What happened back there?â the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldnât last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at todayâs shooting.
It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasnât even fucking you today-
âNothing.â
âAre we sure-â
âNothing.â Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, âI wonât fumble next time. Promise.â
But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like heâs about to lose it.
âSaid you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?â heâs leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.
Heâd heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being soâŠso addictive.Â
Of course, heâs going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.
Youâre gifting him with a bratty huff, âIâve only been making videos for a few months, yâknow? So Iâve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-âÂ
And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. â-so big.â
Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already.Â
Hissing, âS-save it for the camera, honey.â
âOkay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.â A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and heâs settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. âACTION!â
âMessing up such an important mission, hm?â Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, âYâknow thereâs only one way to make up for it, right, honey?â
Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, âWh-what do I hafta-â
And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldnât last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - heâs shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips.Â
Unapologetically.
Filthily.
GodâŠit was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.
Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue.Â
And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Getoâs body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-
âShit.â he gasps. âShit shit shit shit-â Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, âTake it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.â
God, he didnât know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same.Â
Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. âHeh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.â
And heâs giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock.Â
Struggling. Shit, heâs the biggest youâve ever had.
Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.
But he didnât care about that right now.
How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth.Â
You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, âS-Sugu-â
Fuck.Â
Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as youâre tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. Itâs glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head.Â
âMhmââ heâs drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, âSuck on my ah- tip- câmon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?â
With a smug smirk, heâs guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didnât even have to bother.
Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck.Â
âSpit.â
âSâthis-â you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, âSâthis good, sir?â
Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for realÂ
âHmmm, dunno.â His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, âJusâ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- câmon.â
Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Getoâs so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls.Â
âHeh, think I prefer ya like this-â heâs restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldnât stop. Didnât want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. â-all pliant, nâ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.â Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. âAll mine.â
Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, heâs cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life.Â
Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.
And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.
Barely even registering the way itâll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.
Letting it overspill.Â
âHeh, fuck-â Getoâs tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when heâs bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, âWish I could fuck you- god, I would-â
Heâs cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection.Â
In urgent moves, Getoâs pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.
Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses.Â
This wasnât in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.
Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and heâs sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-
âTell yer agent-â he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. â-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.â
CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!
37 million views 1.5 million likes
Top comments:
satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ê° Ë¶âą àŒ âąË¶ê±
unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO
hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?
tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree
---
Now, it wasnât normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting andâŠresearch his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture youâd blessed his obscene mind with.
You.
An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid.Â
Everybody wanted you.
And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind.Â
Shit, heâs thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-
DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.
That should be him.
The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-
Shit, that should be him.
Holding back a low moan, âFuck-â he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. âGod- mâso fuckinâ hard-â
He doesnât even know who heâs talking to right about now - the audience, or you.Â
But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.
âSâall because of y-you, yâknow?â heâs gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. âWhyâd you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.â
God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.
Over and over.
God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.
Heâs panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping.Â
Getoâs never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. Itâs all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.
Yet, they do, anyway.
âM-make me so fuckinâ horny, honey-â heâs swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. âSuch a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.â
Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Getoâs mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Tojiâs fat cock. Heâd been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldnât help but muse whether youâd take him that well, too.Â
Would you cry out and beg for more?Â
Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?
You wereâŠyou were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you.Â
You you you you-
Getoâs wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, âIâd ruin ya, yâknow?â Geto chokes out, and he doesnât even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. âWould make ya shut up on mâcock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.â
God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up youâd usually see on Getoâs promotional tweets.Â
And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that youâd like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.
âFuck- fuck.â Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- âLook what you do- look how youâve got me- fuck-â
He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto canât stop even if he wanted to.Â
And the more he thought about you the more-
âOh h-honey-â One of Getoâs thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, heâs nodding like he doesnât even realize. âMâgonna cum hah- mâgonna cum, okay? Youâll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-â
And itâs just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Getoâs spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.
Heâs fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. Itâs making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot.Â
He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.
God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if theyâd been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.
Fuck, wishing it was your hand.
Wishing you were here.
All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then heâd swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-
Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Getoâs breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now.Â
He does, actually.
Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.
Yet, he doesnât even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.
Doesnât even register until heâs pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about âpromo for your upcoming videoâ with every few hasty clicks on-screen.
Geto posts.
And he doesnât even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.
Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.
@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen
2.6 million views 364k likes
Top replies:
moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!!Â
tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.
ScreenQueen: <3
---
âYâlook so pretty like this, sweetheart.â Gojoâs angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldnât capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. âIsnât that right, Suguru?â
âHeh-â The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojoâs plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. âDonât I know.â
hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~
444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE
chocho: sheâs soâŠbeautifulÂ
*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*
If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.
Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.
His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress heâd been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.
Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojoâs cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldnât do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. âG-gojo-â
Smack!
All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto canât help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle.Â
Gojoâs tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where heâs leering down at you. âNow now, youâre sâpposed to look at hah- me.â he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. âAnd what was it I told ya to call me?â
âT-To-â
Smack!
âLouder.â
âToru!â you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-
âSuch a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.â His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, âDoes sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?â
And Gojoâs not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants.Â
AddictiveâŠyou were so addictive.Â
And heâs almost jealous that heâd introduced you to him on this stream.
Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, âHmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-â
âSuch a dog ya are-â Gojoâs rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Getoâs letting out a roughened growl, âDontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.â
âMhmââ youâre crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojoâs sheer mercy.Â
Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you canât help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate.Â
Peppering damp pecks along Gojoâs innocently pink lips, âS-so mean, Sugu.â
âYa hear that?â Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Getoâs lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- âOur girl says youâre a meanie, Sugu~â
candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDDÂ
k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here
pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??
And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojoâs jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Getoâs way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities.Â
âFuck that.â heâs spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, thatâs when you know heâs serious. And one of Getoâs fingers smack! away Gojoâs, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. âOpen.â
Fuck, itâs just about all that you can do.
Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva.Â
Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He couldâve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.
But, no, heâs speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, âNow, would you care to repeat- that?â
Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Getoâs hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him.Â
You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!
Smack!
âCâmon now, sweetheart~â Gojoâs slow tut makes you squeal. âSânot nice to leave someone hah- hanging.â
Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, youâre struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. âMâm-sorry-â
âThatâs not what I asked-â his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. âTell me what you said.â
âS-said-â youâre sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojoâs ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Getoâs thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. â-said you were m-mean hngh- didnât mean i-it ah fuck-â
âAre you sure?â
âYou really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.â
âTch, shut up-â And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. â-at least Iâm gonna be the one t-to make her cum.â
Gojoâs rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. âNo I will.â
âAs if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jusâ to capture how gorgeous she is.â
Both Gojo and Getoâs lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take.Â
Heâs bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.
Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. âHeh, if ya really mean it then cum fâme, honey.â
Fuck- then, you do.
Itâs hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck.Â
Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.
His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Getoâs. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. âMy good girl- good- hah- fuckinâ girl.â
âAwww. Look, Suguru-â The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. âYa really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.â
Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. Heâs tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. âWell, I also made her cum.â
âHah? No way, that was me-â
âIâll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.â
#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `ââ©âÂŽ -â§
51 million views 4.8 million likes
Top donors:
unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (sheâs so lucky me next)
honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM
king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and iâd show her a better time.
---
God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.
Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin.Â
And especially not filming with him.
A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt.Â
To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him.Â
Anything but this-
â-câmon- just one night, baby-â Naoyaâs purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. âPromise Iâll have you seeing stars.â
When he didnât even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agentâs reputation, if anything else.Â
Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, âI think we spent more than enough time together on-set.â
With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didnât even know where you were going, at this point.Â
But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else.Â
Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra youâd worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out.Â
You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, âPlayinâ hard to get isnât cute, yâknow. Just give in-â
SWAT!
âExcuse me-â Youâre grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoyaâs sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, â-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.â
âW-wait-â
But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to.Â
SLAM!
The door closes. Hard.Â
And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.
Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?
It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that youâd shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you werenât alone-
âOh!â you gasp. And you donât even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you.Â
Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-
âCat got yer pretty tongue, honey?â
âWh-wha-â you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how youâve seen everything already. âCat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?â
He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. âWell, it doesnât look like youâre complaining, though?â
âYouâre too much.â
Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. âBesides- I was here first- helping out olâ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?â Lips quirking attractively upwards, âWanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?â
You did.
âYou wish.âÂ
Youâre rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because youâre already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours.Â
Close.Â
With a gulp, youâre careening back against the velvety walls. âMore like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.â
So close.Â
âAh.â Getoâs nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, âNeed me to beat him-â
You cut him off, âNo no no-â Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didnât want him to leave right now. âI took care of it, anyway.â
âThatâs my girl.âÂ
And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Getoâs greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. âThen I guess, my next question isâŠâ
God, heâs so mean.
So teasing.
Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed.Â
Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel.Â
Down, down, down.
â-did he take care of you?â
Youâre stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, âH-he didnât make me-â
Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. âMake you what?â
â-didnât make me cum!â
And oh, those words changed everything.
âThen I guess I better make up for my colleagueâs incompetence, right?â
Because not only did they have Geto Suguruâs sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.
âSo flimsy.â heâs raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. âYet it still wasnât broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?â
âPlease- D-donât tease-â
What did you even mean to say- donât tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldnât get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss.Â
A French kiss.
âShhh- better keep âer quiet fâme, gorgeous-â heâs chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didnât- Geto didnât fucking care. âBecause mânot going easy on you.â
And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, heâs drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.
Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, heâs curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes.Â
âG-Getoââ heâs quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck heâs never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, âSo mean, yâknow that?â
Oh, you little minx. Getoâs brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-
And he canât help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.
A warning.Â
âWhat was that?â he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. âIf Iâm so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?â Wild eyes locked with yours - youâve never seen this look anywhere in Getoâs films. Anywhere. âWouldnât wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-â
Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idolâs nerves. But youâd never have expected the effect that it would have.
Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.
He wasnât easing you in.
He wasnât showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldnât sink into your pretty pussy.Â
Groaning, one of Getoâs splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-
âNgh- fuck!â Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. âFuck that feels so good-â
âI know-â heâs smirking up at you. âNâ it sounds like e-everyone out there sâgonna know, too- heh. I donât mind.â
God, thatâs when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare.Â
âL-look whoâs talking-â
Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches heâs reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. âSânot my fault your p-pretty pussyâs so talkative, honey.â
âG-Geto-â
âShhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?â
You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Getoâs rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices.Â
Theyâre swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling.Â
To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.
âHeheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.â He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. âHold on- got an idea.â
Fuck.Â
An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.
And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, heâs reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Getoâs rawly rubbed pink lips.Â
One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking.Â
More.Â
âHeh, youâre the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-â
âL-lucky me-â you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesnât look like heâs anywhere but heaven. âIt feels- so so- mmpf-â
Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-
âHeheh- what did I say-â heâs dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. âQuiet, honey- be quiet fâme like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?â
Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate.Â
Heâs so sloppy. So loud.Â
He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that itâs dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.
And heâs forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it.Â
âCâmon, my pretty lady-â Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- âCan ya hear that?â
Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.
You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, âG-getoââ
Closer.
âSâalright sâalright-â heâs snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasnât two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. â-jusâ cum fâme. Cum fâme, honey.â
Your cunt was so sensitive. Youâre whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- âMâgonna cum, Geto- so close. Mâgonna- mâgonna-â
You didnât have to finish your sentence.
Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, youâre cumming all over Getoâs pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.
And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldnât he?
Not when this is all that heâs been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously heâs fucking you through your high.
âOh- oh, honeyâ â The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. âThaâs right- use me- use me.â
Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, heâs dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
âHey- ya in here?â
Click! In an instant, Getoâs long arm span is reached over to lock the door.Â
And god, Naoyaâs voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadnât been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is.Â
You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, âOnly one in hereâs me, fuck off.â
Only then comes the sputtering, âWh-why Iâd never-â
âUnless ya want your lilâ idol Toji to hear about how youâve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.â
Itâs barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Getoâs hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another, gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. âDonât you worry-â Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, âMâgonna ruin him.â
And thatâs all it takes for him to remember something else youâd said about that very man just earlier. Something about a dateâŠas if.
âKiss me- kiss me kiss me please-â Getoâs mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- âFuck- s-suck-â Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. âNâ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if youâd like- wanna make a movie-â
âYes.â
Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.
LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.
Employee count - 1Â
âFuck- fuck-â Ichijiâs struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when heâs rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. âOh god- mâgonna get f-fired-â
Again.
And again.
And again and-
âShit-â heâs shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. â-she really is a screen queen.â
---
Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemadeâŠmovie.Â
Not exactly something that heâd tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because heâd been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now.Â
YeahâŠtotally not.
So he planned.
And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way heâs been dreaming of. Humming, âYou ready?â
Well, everything except-
âG-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-â
Shit, that was the last thing on Getoâs mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.
Everything he needed.
But no fucking camera.
Oh.Â
âShit.â heâs chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. Heâs scratching behind his neck, âWe can st-â
âNo-â And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer.Â
But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, âThe Screen Queen doesnât want to be on screen? How shocking.â
But it wasnât.
God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - heâd already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now.Â
Heâs nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. âHow do you want me?â
And all you can say is- âI just want you-â
Swat!
The rounded tips of Gojoâs fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, âYou a-always say the sweetest things, honey.â
You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Getoâs dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly.Â
And heâs groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene.Â
âTell me, pretty babyââ His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. â-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or sâit jusâ for me?â But youâre only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he canât help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside-Â
He doesnât have to bother waiting long.
Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.
But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isnât buried inside your cunt might make him die-
âCâmon câmon câmon-â heâs hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. âTake it- please, please take it-â
Geto canât keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. Itâs like it was never-ending.Â
âShit-â your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. âI-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-â
He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and heâs not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, heâd just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit.Â
âSuguru-â he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. âP-please if you can call that hah- fuckass âSatoruâ, then call me Suguru, please-â
Itâs all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy âSugu-â
Oh.
Oh, shit.
You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-
Smack!Â
Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.
âDonât- donât run-â Getoâs sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- âFuck, whereâd you think youâre going, huh, honey?â
His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Getoâs fat cock.Â
And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk.Â
âMâm-not running away-â youâre pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he canât help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. âYouâre just s-so big- bigger than on camera-â
Fuck.
You wouldâve shut your babbling mouth sooner if youâd known what would happen.
Because the rotund edges of Getoâs cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after heâs finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall.Â
âGod- yâreally know how to drive me c-crazy-â Getoâs dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost donât notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, âNâ move that hand- fuck- mâgonna fuck that outta ya.â
And he does.Â
The mattress creaks in loud protests when heâs pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - heâs feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. âSuch a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it tâmyself-â
God, heâs wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.
Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. âTie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.â
All you can do is blink back the wall of tears thatâd made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Getoâs thin, black hair tie.Â
But you didnât expect it to be so difficult.Â
Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, heâs planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.
And one look up into Getoâs half-lidded eyes told you one thingâŠhe was doing this on purpose.Â
Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. âIâm onto you, sir-â
Fuck.
Fuck, maybe you were threatening.
He didnât expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didnât expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, âI have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.â
And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Getoâs sloppy cadence.Â
Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.
âDo it-â His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. â-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but youâre my slut, arentcha?â
God, itâs like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.
And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside.Â
Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didnât even realize existed.Â
So merciless that heâs slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - youâre being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.
Over and over-
âWanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-â your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. âPlease-â
He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- âHeh, maybe t-tie my hair properly nâ Iâll let ya cum- you know sâa staple of my hngh- videos.â
So infuriating, it makes you clench.
That sleazy grin plastered across Getoâs face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-
âHngh- nâ you call me the rookie-â Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.
âGod, youâre in for it-â heâs spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. âYouâre in- hah- youâre sooo in for it-â
But then Geto sees white - and so do you.
Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea. And you donât even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now.Â
Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, theyâd be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck.Â
Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.
And thereâs so much.Â
Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.
He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where youâd been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way heâd done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-
No, it makes him whimper.
âStill havenât hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.â Getoâs mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, âEither you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time nâ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.â
A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru#gojo x reader#tonywrites#gojo smut#toji x reader
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Motion Sickness
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason makes you cry after a fight
warnings: angst with comfort
âJasonââ
He waves you off immediately, âNo, Iâm not your problem, okay?â
Your arms drop, âYouâre not a problem at all, thatâs not what Iâm sayingââ
âThen what are you saying?â he challenges.Â
You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, âIâm saying youâre being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.â
Heâs angry and youâre someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping youâll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently.Â
A tense exhale from him, âI donât need your help, I donât know how I can make it any clearer.â
âItâs not about needing itââ
âNo, itâs about wanting it. I donât want your fucking help,â he snaps. âIâm grown, I can handle my problems myself.â
You drop your hands to your sides, âThen what am I doing here, Jason?â
âI donât know!â You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways.Â
You know he doesnât always think before he talks, especially when heâs mad. Youâve seen it plenty when heâs fighting with his family. This is the first time itâs shown up with you though, and while you know itâs not coming from a place of genuinityâit still really fucking stung.Â
Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen.Â
âOkay,â You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. âYou need to go away.â
Thereâs a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesnât fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.
The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt. Â
You and Jason donât fight often but when you do itâs usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. Heâd been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasnât willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.
You know him, in and out. You couldâve anticipated thisâyou shouldâve. You shouldâve approached the topic more sensitively. And itâs not his fault, his life has taught him that itâs safer to believe that other people donât have his best interest. You know that.Â
Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows youâve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and youâve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still canât trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?
You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat.Â
Itâs nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before heâs even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.
Heâs still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Heâs so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.
Dick stills, blinking warily.
âWhatâre you doing here?â
His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.
As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.
He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, âWhat happened?â
Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, âGot in a fight.â
Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch.Â
âWhatâd you do?â
Jason doesnât have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth.Â
âBe myself.â
Dick says nothing,Â
When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though itâs the last thing he wants to admit to.
âI made her cry,â he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew heâd hurt you.
Dick nods, not saying anything. Heâs definitely been there before, though heâs not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.
Heâs half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.
âI donât know what she wants me to do,â he rasps.
Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. âWhen girls are mad you give them space but when theyâre sad you definitely donât. Is she sad or mad?â
Jason exhales desperately.
âBoth, I think.â
Dick nods, understanding.
âThen go home.â
Jason shakes his head, defeated. âShe told me to leave. She doesnât want to talk to me.â
âWhat did you say?â
He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. âI basically told her to fuck off.â
âYeah,â Dick drawls. âI wouldnât let that simmer.â
Jasonâs head snaps over to him. âSheâll break up with me?â
âNo, I donâtââ Dick pauses, thinking over his words. âItâll be fine. Just go home.â
Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to.Â
He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that youâd remembered to lock it.Â
The apartmentâs mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.
He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how thereâs no light flooding out from underneath.
âBaby?â Jason calls it out quietly, like heâs scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.
He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows youâre sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesnât know how, he just does.
So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, âCan I come in?â
Thereâs a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.
âNot right now.â
Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that heâs the one that made you feel like this.
He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.
He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.
He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance.Â
Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you donât know what to do with your hands.Â
It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around himâbecause of himâso he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like heâs just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now.Â
Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.
He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.
He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him. Â
He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt youâd chosen was one of your own. He frowns. Â
âSweetheart. Can I touch you?â His voice is soft and low, like heâs trying to coax you back out to him.
It takes a long few moments, but you nod.
He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.
âWill you turn over?â
An even longer pause and youâre flipping over to face him. You donât make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot.Â
He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like heâs scared to touch you too harshly. Like heâs touching porcelain.
He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that youâll talk when youâre ready.
You let it go on longer than heâd hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. Heâd hoped youâd yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that youâre thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to.Â
He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesnât deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but heâs not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.
âSay it,â he urges. âPlease.â
Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated.Â
You face him, taking a breath and relenting. âI donât like that you said that to me.â
He nods, brow deep. âMe neither.â
Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you donât know if you should. He didnât mean it, you know that, and they werenât his words, really. But the snap of his voice when heâd said it and the look on his faceâit made you feel terrible. It still does.
You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out.Â
Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly.Â
âOh, baby. Please donât cry, please.â
But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.
He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. Itâs what you needed though, to be close to him right now.
âIâm sorry. Iâm really fucking sorry, babyââ he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.
You shake your head, sniffling. âItâs okay, Jay.â
âNo, itâs not.â
That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.
Itâs not long before youâre able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.
When youâre ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                   Â
He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how theyâre starting to stain.
Youâre still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as youâre sure your face is conveying.Â
âItâs okay,â you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.
He shakes his head, âIf I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. Iâm serious.â
You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. âIâm not going to hit youââ
âThen break up with me. Donât ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.â
His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.
Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and thereâs a palpable shift to the air in the room.
âHey.â He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, âListen to me. Youâre the love of my life. You hear me? Iâm supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I donâtâŠI canât talk to you like that. Iâm sorry. Iâm really sorry.â
Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.
He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, âNobodyâs gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?âÂ
You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until heâs convinced of your belief in the statement.Â
He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isnât the same as it was before though, itâs safer, more comfortable. Itâs familiar, if not weighted. Â
âI love you,â you tell him quietly.
His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered.Â
âI love you too, baby. So much.â
đŠ if you don't reblog things i'm actively sending bad vibes your way đŠ and maybe also a plague
#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd/you#jason todd imagine#jason todd thoughts#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x reader#red hood/you#red hood x you#red hood/reader#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic
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thinking abt that 'what kind of animals' moment from caitlyn, as a mirror of jayce's 'you didn't say they were from the undercity', and then the different way viktor and vi respond.
jayce's words were direct and viktor responds in kind - directly. 'im from the undercity'. it draws jayces attention to him to counteract the way jayce is able to dehumanise them. you cant dehumanise a group of people when one of them is someone you deeply care about and theyre sitting right in front of you forcing you to acknowledge where they came from and that theres more than whatever youve been raised to believe the people down there are like.
but vi is a lot more avoidant. she doesnt Want tension with cait so she talks around it. offers a logical argument instead of an emotional one. 'they wanted a spectacle'. it avoids reminding cait of their differences and where she came from while still trying to explain their actions as the rational moves of an enemy, yes, but a human one. but its the kind of compensating thats only going to lead to her giving up more and more ground to avoid fighting on it. and even so, it doesnt work. even when trying to avoid reminding cait where shes from and who she is, cait leaves on the note of grouping everyone, including vi, into one. this is an us and them situation, and cait exiles her from the 'us' and condemns her to 'them'.
#OUBHSHFJEJ ITS SO CRAZYYY IM OBSESSED W ITTY#arcane#caitvi#jayvik#caitlyn kiramman#vi arcane#viktor arcane#jayce talis
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#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT PâSSY!)
ÊÉ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.
warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.
SATORU GOJO â BREAKS IN NO TIME!
satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.
but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.
just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.
but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you â no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.
weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.
"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.
"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."
the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises â but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.
"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.
your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."
"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"
satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.
"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."
"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction â it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"
"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"
you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be â right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.
and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.
"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.
you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.
"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."
SUGURU GETO â TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!
suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.
...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.
so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.
"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"
suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."
your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed â when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.
...but apparently not.
"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.
"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"
you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."
he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.
suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.
and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.
he simply smiles at this â a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."
a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.
then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.
and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.
"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?
"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.
for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected â so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.
and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.
and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.
"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.
"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."
"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"
"...i hate you."
"no you don't, baby."
and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.
TOJI FUSHIGURO â YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!
ââyou want me to what?â toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like youâd just grown a second head.
âyou heard me perfectly fine, toji.â you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.
âyou seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?â he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. âi think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.â
âthatâs what i do every night already,â you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. âweâre trying something different this time.â
âoh, are we now?â toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. âand what makes you so sure iâll even agree to go along with this, hm?â
âwell⊠because if you donât, then you get no pussy tonight.â you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.
âreally? that's the best y'got?â he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.
toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game heâs started.
so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.
you know youâre making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.
he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.
but toji is just a man, after all â and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.
you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"
"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.
"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"
toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.
"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.
"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself outâ"
"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"
"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.
but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.
...no surprises there.
CHOSO KAMO â BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)
choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.
he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?
he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.
"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.
"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder â and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.
"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.
"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"
choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."
"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."
his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."
"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.
slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.
"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"
choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.
"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."
"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."
choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.
it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him â and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.
he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.
as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.
...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.
RYOMEN SUKUNA â KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?
ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.
so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.
âabsolutely not.â sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.
but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.
"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as toâ" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.
there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.
"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"
"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.
"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"
you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."
sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.
he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.
"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."
sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)
he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading â but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.
so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.
"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."
© 2024 SUGOROO.
LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!
#â
sugoroo#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk smut#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#geto smut#geto x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#toji smut#toji x reader#choso x reader#choso smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#geto suguru x reader#gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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#but also it turned out#agatha and rio DID have a cottage together#something must have driven agatha from the cottage#to have her running#and not having a home with nicky#which could have helped his health more
yeah because i think because the tragedy is also that she loves death. nicky isnt doomed in some magical way, made of death so unable to live. or maybe also that, who knows, but i think nicky is doomed first and foremost bc agatha loves death.
i think she must have been on the run because she made it that way. bc she antagonised people into coming after her. bc she killed a coven or a dozen. bc she killed magically or mundanely. agatha isnt trying to build a healthy life, for her or him. agatha isnt trying to be Better in any way you want to define that. she wont let herself grow beyond the trauma that has defined her up to that point. and after nickys death she wont let herself grow beyond that trauma either. shes knowingly destructive and she isnt trying to change that.
if agatha is desolate and without community it's because she has made it that way. directly or indirectly, on purpose or bc she was forced, those things kinda blur together. at the end of the day she let it be that way. nicky lived and died because agatha loves death.
She is my scar.
#or thats one interpretation of what 'the truth is too awful' can mean#but you know ymmv. to me a lot of this is about self-destruction#i mean the addiction metaphor is like. there#but even more than that. she loves death. thats what the show makes explicit. concrete.#and it's not a healthy relationship theyre clear about that too#thats why nicky dies. thats why she blames herself. bc she chose stagnation. stuckness in trauma. over him#she made the life that nicky lived. in every way. which maybe every parent does for their kids in a way idk#but if she didnt have a midwife which might have helped him that was her choice#and if she didnt have a community that could offer him steady shelter and food and hygiene (which death cant) that was her choice too#and like maybe it's ALSO the magical stuff. maybe he also needed the power of those witches to live or wahtever#i wouldnt disregard the possibility and i dont think it takes away from the metaphor necessarily#but to me the metaphor is what holds the story together.#and if rio can only show up when theres a death. then the regular killing sprees only add layers to that interpretation i think#but i dont know if they regularly saw rio in those yeras#and why that means rio must be in the rich clothes i dont know i have nothing to say abt that part ghfkjghjkh
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you were right!
a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it đ gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs
The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.
âCheckmate, bitch!â he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine heâd used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.
He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofiaâs number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.
Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadnât just found out about her betrayal. âHey, babe, whatâs up ?â
Rafeâs voice is steely, cold. âIs it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?â
The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.
âPack your shit. Get out of my house,â he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. âGod, after everything I did for you? Weâre done. Done.â He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice overâand heâd ignored the only person who saw it coming.
He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. Youâd warned him that she wasnât who she seemed. Heâd brushed you off, accusing you of jealousyâknowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadnât spoken since that fight, since the way heâd brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.
Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.
The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. âWhat, Rafe?â
Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. Youâre thereâback in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, heâs out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.
He clears his throat. âHey⊠princess,â he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. âIâuh⊠Look, Iâm sorry. You were right.â
Thereâs a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if youâre debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.
âWhat happened?â
Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. âTurns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being⊠petty. But I guess Iâm the idiot, huh?â
You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. âYou wouldnât listen,â you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. âI know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I meanââ He pauses, grappling with how to say it. âHell, I thought you were jealous because you⊠I donât know. I thought you didnât want me with her because weâŠâ His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.
âYeah,â you say softly, almost to yourself. âI get it.â
Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. âCan I see you? Iâm done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain⊠properly.â
A beat passes, and when you finally speak, itâs careful, guarded. âAfter everything you said last time, why should I?â
He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. âBecause I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And⊠I miss you.â His voice drops, laced with a warmth he canât help. âEven if youâre just going to gloat and rub it in my face.â
You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. âI donât know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,â you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.
âYeah, yeah,â he says, amusement lacing his words. âAct like you donât care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.â
A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. âMaybe a little. But youâre bringing wine. Good wine.â
âOh, donât worry, baby,â he says, the flirtation back in his voice. âOnly the best for you.â
You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. Itâs the closest thing heâs had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildareâback to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.
taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif
#rafe x you#rafe outer banks#rafe fic#rafe#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron blurb#obx fic#obx season 4#obx#obx4#outer banks season 4#obx cast#outer banks#obx fanfiction#obx spoilers
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Many Democratic elites appear to have landed on a familiar tactic: blaming everyoneâs favorite scapegoat, Big Woke. Everywhere you look, youâll see someoneâoften, but not always, on CNNârailing against the far-left extremists that supposedly held the partyâs mainstream faction in its vise-like grip in 2024. Thereâs just one problem with this: the campaign these insiders are describing bears virtually no resemblance to the actual campaign we all just suffered through. They have simply invented an alternate universe out of thin air.
[...]
The ugly truth for these people is that Kamala Harris ran as right-wing a campaign as any Democrat in living memory. She downplayed discussions of her race and gender. She bent over backward to welcome billionaires, corporate titans, and Republicans into the fold. She told Black men that one of her priorities for them wasâŠcrypto. She made her past as a prosecutor a cornerstone of her pitch. She bragged about owning a Glock and joked that she would shoot people who broke into her house. She stuffed the Democratic National Convention to the gills with cops and Border Patrol agents while crushing even the tiniest dissent over her support for the genocide in Gaza. She promised the most âlethalâ military in the world. She was seemingly joined at the hip with Liz Cheney for weeks. She even praised Dick Cheney! Itâs hard to think of what more she could have done to satisfy the people clamoring for her to pander to conservatives.
11 November 2024
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life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didnât know his clients names, they didnât know his. heâd send over proof of his work, theyâd wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.
so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesnât think much about it. sure he thinks itâs cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most heâs ever been offered for a one shot job, so heâs not an idiot to turn this offer down.
and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.
he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.
gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.
and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. itâs just business to him. but thereâs something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.
maybe itâs the fact that the weeks heâs spent trailing after you heâs noticed youâre pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you donât seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have doneâŠnothing wrong.
you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when youâre on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.
it all comes to a moment when youâre at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and youâve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.
heâs right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.
your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.
âoh my god, oh my god,â you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, âiâm so so sorry! i didnât even see you there - gosh,â you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, âi canât believeâŠ!â you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you donât hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.
âitâs alright,â he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. âdonât even worry about it, accidents happen.â itâs the first time heâs seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.
because youâre pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way youâre nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and thereâs a lump forming in his chest, something heâs never felt before.
âno, no,â you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, âand itâs stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be andâŠâ your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.
itâs more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think itâs not enough as you look for more.
âitâs no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,â gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.
âno, please take it, itâll be on my mind all day if you donât,â you insist, but heâs shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.
âand itâll be on my conscience all day if i take it,â he promises you, and after you realize heâs not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.
of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man youâve ever met.
you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.
âthis is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,â you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, âplease donât hesitate to call me, i know stains and thatâs gonna be really hard to get out,â you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.
âiâm really sorry, again, but i have to go,â you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.
gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.
almost as if he didnât already know it, almost as if you werenât the girl heâs supposed to kill.
and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because heâd rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and heâs never felt this dread before.
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You know, one of my favorite under-the-radar interactions in Arcane is actually between Jayce and Vi.
On paper they haveâŠliterally nothing in common. Oneâs the golden boy science nerd, plastered all over Piltover as the symbol of progress, who has actively made decisions on the Council that made life in Zaun worse. Oneâs a bruiser who cut her teeth on the streets of Zaun, and then prison, as Piltover did its very best to forget she ever existed. Theyâve had maybe, like, one actual conversation, in which Vi called him âpretty boyâ and Jayce looked deeply uncomfortable. But against all oddsâthey get along like a house on fire. I think Jayce is the only one Vi would have accepted weapons made of Hextech from; and I think Vi (and Caitlyn, but Vi came first) was the only person other than himself that Jayce would have made Hextech weapons for. Theyâre so in sync that they literally coordinate battle moves on the fly without needing to exchange a word. It might strike you as weird, at first. Itâs just so improbable.
But it makes sense. Because the way they make decisions is almost the sameâemotion. Impulse. Punch first, think later. Do what you think is right, and donât wait for the world to give you permission, because it never will. They trust their gut and make snap decisions. And because the world of Arcane is morally gray, they usually regret it.
Which makes me think that some of the strongest parallels in this new season might actually be between Vi and Jayce. Arcane is about change. The price of change; the promises and dangers of change; and how people change, too. Vi and Jayce have been relatively stable character-wise. They change their minds about things, circumstances around them change, but at least at the end of s2e3, theyâre still very recognizably themselves. Still punch first, think later. But the people around them have been undergoing extreme transformations.
Powder is now Jinx. Vi spent the entire first season refusing to see this, then failing to understand this. At the start of season 2, she still canât reconcile the two in her mindâshe can only conceive of them as literally two different people. Powder is dead. (I killed her.) All thatâs left is Jinx. (I created her.) But the truth is that Jinx is still her little sister, is still the girl who was once Powder. Powder didnât dieâshe changed.
Meanwhile, Caitlyn in season 2 is having a cataclysmic change because of her trauma and grief. The Caitlyn Vi fell in love with was brave, precise, determinedâand fundamentally kind. She traded her gun away for medicine to save Viâs life. She didnât even hesitate. But now, all of that laser focus is being bent on revenge. Caitlyn has become increasingly single-minded, narrow-viewed, her world reduced to the target in her sniperâs scope. If youâre an obstacle, sheâll simply shoot right through you. She promised Vi she wouldnât change, and then she hit Vi and abandoned her the moment Vi got in the way. Season 1 Caitlyn would never do that.
Vi struggles with change. She never seems to quiteâgrasp it. Doesnât understand how the Undercity has changed while she was locked up, stagnant, an insect trapped in amber. She loves people with a sort of nostalgic glow. What the show forces Vi to reckon with is how far sheâs willing to love someone before theyâve changed too much. She thinks itâs over with Jinx. She says she doesnât consider Jinx as her sister anymore. But they are, theyâre still sisters, of course they are. Jinx knows this. Jinx loves her sister, even now. Which means there might still be something in her for Vi to love too. But with Caitlyn, is there anything left of the kind girl who gave Vi her freedom and treated her with compassion? Can Vi still love the dictator literally waging war against her people? Should she? (Could she even stop loving Caitlyn if she wanted to?)
Jayceâs arc is just beginning in season 2, so Iâm not sure which direction heâs heading in. But the parallels are already showing up. Is Viktor still in there, or is he dead? (Did I kill him?) Is it just the Hexcore using his body now, a monster that must be stopped? (Did I create him?) Jayce, too, might soon be forced to decide if he can still love someone whoâs changed past the point of recognition. Or whether he should.
All this is to say that I hope we get more Vi and Jayce interactions this season. And that itâs definitely not a coincidence that we got two divorces back to back.
#arcane#arcane spoilers#arcane season 2#caitlyn kiramman#vi arcane#jayce talis#caitvi#jayvik#arcane meta#âI donât even like Jayce all that muchâ I say as all my arcane posts turn into Jayce posts
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Rumour Has It
Franco Colapinto x Princess of Norway!Reader
Summary: youâve never heard of Franco before and Franco has certainly never heard of you ⊠but when gossip magazines decide to set you two up, Franco realizes that he wouldnât mind making the rumors a reality
âHave you seen this?â Noora says, bursting into your study with a tablet clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and frantic.
You look up, half-expecting the sky to have fallen or for Oslo to be under siege. âSeen what?â
Noora slams the tablet down on your desk, and your face is met with a tabloid headline in bold, obnoxious letters: Norwayâs Princess Caught in Secret Romance with Argentinian Racing Prodigy Franco Colapinto!
You blink at the screen, then back at Noora, and then at the screen again, as if maybe the headline might rearrange itself into something more sensible. âSorry, who?â
âFranco Colapinto!â She says, exasperated. âThe Argentine driver â the rookie! In Formula 1!â
You tilt your head. âI donât know who that is.â
Noora gives you a look thatâs somewhere between sympathy and horror. âOkay, well, apparently youâre dating him. And half of Norway seems to think so too, thanks to this article.â
âDating? Noora, Iâve never even heard of him, let alone met him! And this ⊠this is nonsense!â You shove the tablet back at her, feeling your cheeks flush. âHow did this even happen?â
Noora sighs, sliding the tablet away. âItâs the internet. They donât need facts to build a story â they just need a blurry photo and a wild imagination.â
You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply. âAnd why didnât anyone tell me sooner? Itâs not like we donât have a whole team for this.â
âWell, to be fair, it only surfaced last night,â she says, crossing her arms. âBut now itâs all over social media, and your name is attached to his. People are actually talking about you two as if youâre the new royal couple.â
Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. Youâve spent years cultivating a careful, respectable image â a modern princess whoâs still traditional enough to respect the expectations placed on her. And now, youâre supposedly dating a race car driver?
âWhat exactly are they saying?â You ask, your voice quieter, laced with dread.
Noora hesitates, but you give her a pointed look until she relents. âTheyâre saying you met him at some secret event in Monaco and that youâve been hiding your relationship to avoid the media frenzy. Apparently, heâs been visiting Norway on his off-days just to see you.â She snorts. âItâs absurd, really. But people are eating it up.â
You stare at her, your pulse thrumming in your ears. âThis cannot be happening.â
âOh, but it is. And the comments âŠâ She trails off, biting her lip.
âOut with it, Noora.â
She sighs. âSome are saying itâs refreshing that youâre dating someone so ⊠I donât know, normal. But others âŠâ She winces. âOthers think itâs irresponsible. That youâre ⊠well, neglecting your duty for some glamorous fling.â
You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. âNeglecting my duty,â you repeat, more to yourself than to her. âBecause Iâm apparently sneaking off with some Formula 1 driver Iâve never even met.â
âI know,â she says, reaching out and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. âBut itâll pass. A few days, maybe a week, and theyâll have moved on to the next scandal.â
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to imagine it blowing over. âAnd what if it doesnât?â
âThen we get PR involved. Make a statement, deny everything.â She pauses, eyeing you with a wary smile. âOr, you know, we could just arrange a very public appearance with you and someone else. Nothing quashes rumors like a little royal romance with a suitable partner.â
Your eyes snap open. âNoora.â
She grins, unphased by your glare. âWhat? Itâs an option.â
âIâm not going to parade around with someone just to make the tabloids happy,â you say, crossing your arms.
âWell, that leaves us with the boring option: addressing it head-on, squashing the rumor, and hoping it dies quickly.â
âThat will just make it worse,â you sigh resignedly. âThe press will think any denial means we have something to hide.â
Noora nods, still eyeing you cautiously. âYou could always lean into it a little â make it sound mysterious.â
âMysterious?â You echo. âNo, Noora. I want it gone. I donât even know this man!â
âAll right, all right,â she concedes, hands raised in surrender. âBut you know, you could at least look him up.â
You narrow your eyes. âWhy would I do that?â
âBecause people are going to be asking questions. Youâre the Princess of Norway. If they think youâre dating him, it would help to know who he is.â
You open your mouth to argue, but sheâs already pulling out her phone. âJust ⊠humor me, okay? Itâll take two seconds.â
She taps her screen, and suddenly a series of photos pops up â images of a young man with dark hair and a serious expression, usually in some variation of a racing suit, often holding a helmet. Heâs smiling in one photo, a faint smirk in another, but the confident gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.
âHeâs twenty-one,â Noora says, scrolling through some text. âStarted karting young, worked his way up. Got his big break with Formula 1 this year.â
You try not to look interested, but itâs hard to ignore the pictures flashing by. He has a kind of easy charisma, that much is obvious.
âAnd look,â she adds, holding up a picture of him on the track, eyes focused, mouth set in a determined line. âHeâs pretty talented, apparently.â
You shake your head, forcing yourself to look away. âNone of this matters. Because I donât know him, and Iâm certainly not dating him.â
Noora smirks. âDoesnât matter. The media thinks you are, and as far as theyâre concerned, that makes it practically true.â
You groan, sinking back in your chair. âSo what do I do?â
âFor now? Sit tight, let PR work their magic. But you might want to brush up on your Formula 1 knowledge, just in case anyone asks.â She grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. âWouldnât want you to sound unprepared.â
You roll your eyes, reaching for the tablet and skimming the articleâs ridiculous details. âHe brought me roses on the first date?â You mutter, incredulous. âWe had a secret dinner at a villa on the CĂŽte dâAzur? Do they just make this up?â
âPretty much. And itâs only going to get worse if people keep sharing it.â
You rub your temples, trying to banish the lingering image of Francoâs cocky smile from your mind. âFantastic. Just what I needed â a fake romance with a twenty-one-year-old race car driver.â
Noora pats your shoulder sympathetically. âCould be worse.â
âHow, exactly?â
âIt could be real.â
***
Franco is hunched over his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his notifications as he waits for his PR briefing to start. The Williams headquarters is bustling this morning, and he barely notices when the door opens until Abbie, his PR officer, strides in, her expression uncharacteristically serious.
âFranco, we need to talk,â she says, folding her arms.
He glances up, one eyebrow raised. âAm I in trouble already? Thatâs got to be a record.â
Abbie sighs. âNo, youâre not in trouble. But youâre in ⊠letâs call it a situation.â She pulls up a chair across from him, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets. âHave you seen the news?â
âCanât say I have,â he replies, half-interested. âWhat, did Carlos suddenly decide to retire and I get to keep my seat for next season?â
Abbie doesnât laugh, which is a bit worrying. Instead, she hands him her phone, showing a screen filled with a tabloid headline. Princess Y/N of Norway in Secret Romance with F1âs Newest Rising Star, Franco Colapinto!
His brows furrow as he reads, slowly, taking in the headline, the photos, the fabricated âromantic details.â
âWait ⊠Iâm dating a princess?â He says, breaking into a grin. âAnd nobody thought to tell me?â
Abbie sighs. âApparently. Theyâve got edited photos, fake details â everything.â
He leans back, intrigued. âPrincess Y/N,â he muses, tapping his chin with a thoughtful smirk. âOf Norway?â
âYes, of Norway.â She leans in closer, her expression serious. âThis has gone viral, Franco. Everyoneâs talking about it.â
He canât resist; he grabs his own phone and taps out âPrincess Y/N of Norway.â The first few links are about her background, her position in the line of succession. âSo, sheâs next in line to be queen or something?â
âSecond in line,â Abbie corrects. âAfter her father. Sheâs a pretty big deal over there.â
Francoâs eyes sparkle with interest. âSecond in line. And sheâs what ⊠like, forty?â
âNot even close,â Abbie says, exasperated. âSheâs around your age, I think. Sheâs twenty-something.â
Franco looks at her, skeptical. âTwenty-something? And a princess?â He scrolls through images of palaces, state functions, and some photos of you smiling politely at dignitaries. Sheâs dressed elegantly, impeccably, not a hair out of place.
Then, finally, he finds one candid shot, and he stops scrolling. Youâre laughing in the photo, a little windswept, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, your smile bright and entirely un-royal. He smirks.
âAll right, all right,â he mutters to himself, still looking at the photo. âSheâs pretty cute.â He taps back to the headline with a glint of amusement in his eye. âBut still not a MILF.â
Abbie groans. âYouâre impossible.â
He shrugs, still looking delighted. âCome on. You know my type. I like them older. But âŠâ He trails off, grinning wider. âI could certainly do worse.â
âYouâre not actually considering this, are you?â Abbie says, horrified. âFranco, this is a fake rumor. Youâre supposed to be distancing yourself from it.â
âOh, I know. I know.â He holds up his hands in mock surrender. âBut itâs kind of funny, isnât it? Me, a royal boyfriend?â He leans back, arms crossed, still smirking. âIâm almost flattered.â
Abbie sighs and taps her own phone, clearly typing something in response to the rest of the Williams PR team. âLook, flattered or not, you need to be careful. Sheâs a public figure. If you say the wrong thing, itâll just fuel the fire.â
âOh, please,â he says, waving a hand. âWhat are they gonna do? Put me on trial?â
âMaybe not you,â Abbie replies, giving him a warning look, âbut she has an image to protect. This isnât just gossip for her â itâs her whole life.â
He lets out a low whistle, thinking. âMust be hard, huh? Everyone expecting you to act a certain way. Not much room for fun.â
Abbie eyes him, her expression softening a bit. âIâm sure it is. Which is why we need to treat this carefully.â
Franco glances back at the photos, his smile fading a bit as he considers. He may not know you, but he can picture the situation well enough: the relentless tabloids, the public judgment, all the expectations.
âAll right, fine,â he says, finally. âWhatâs the plan?â
She breathes a sigh of relief. âThank you. Iâll be working with her team to prepare a statement. The usual âthereâs no truth to these rumorsâ line. But until then, keep it low-key.â
He raises a brow. âLow-key? Since when have I ever been low-key?â
âThen try for once.â She gives him a pleading look. âItâll help her out. Trust me.â
Franco nods, though thereâs a spark of amusement still flickering in his eyes. He canât help it â heâs never been one to turn down a little excitement, and this whole thing is exactly that. He glances at Abbie. âSo ⊠if someone were to ask about it âŠâ
She narrows her eyes. âFranco. Donât even think about it.â
He chuckles. âRelax. Iâll be good.â
But as he heads back to the simulator, he canât resist a smirk.
***
The meeting room is far more understated than you wouldâve expected for something of this scale, tucked away in a discreet corner of a private suite in a London hotel. But itâs neutral ground, and itâs quiet, and no one outside this room will ever have to know about this awkward collision of worlds.
Youâre early, of course. Youâve been pacing for the last ten minutes, scrolling through every frantic email your team has sent since this ridiculous rumor broke, trying to make sense of the tabloidsâ spiraling narrative.
Franco arrives with a small entourage, though it feels like the entire room shifts the moment he steps in. He looks relaxed, perfectly at ease â too at ease. He catches your eye almost immediately, smirking as if heâs been waiting his whole life for this absurd situation to unfold.
âPrincess,â he says, as if the word is a private joke just for the two of you. He holds out his hand, that ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes.
You donât take it, instead clearing your throat and nodding a polite, âMr. Colapinto.â
He drops his hand, unfazed. âMr. Colapinto? Ouch. I thought we were past formalities, what with the whole secret romance thing.â
You stare, unamused, but he only laughs, taking a seat at the conference table across from you. He leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, entirely too comfortable.
Abbie enters behind him, followed by Noora and two more of your advisors, who exchange a brief look with you before giving Franco a wary glance. The room feels divided: your side tense, professional; his side relaxed, as if theyâre here for afternoon tea.
Noora clears her throat. âThank you all for coming. Weâre here to discuss ⊠the situation between Her Royal Highness and Mr. Colapinto.â
Franco raises his hand like a schoolboy. âJust Francoâs fine.â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. âI think itâs important that we treat this with the gravity it deserves.â
âRight,â Franco says, his tone playful. âLike a royal summit.â
Ignoring him, you turn to Noora. âWhatâs our best option? A joint statement? Something definitive?â
Noora nods, producing a folder from her bag. âYes, we think a mutual statement from both parties would be the most effective way to dispel the rumors. The tone should be clear, respectful, and leave no room for interpretation.â
Franco grins at you. âSo, no room for romance?â
You bite back a sigh. âExactly.â
He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand as if studying you. âPity. I thought we made a pretty good pair.â
You shift in your seat, folding your hands tightly in front of you. âThis isnât a joke. Itâs an issue of public perception, protocol-â
âProtocol,â he repeats, as if tasting the word. âCanât say Iâm big on protocol. Havenât you heard? Iâm dating a princess now. Practically makes me royalty, right? Protocol doesnât apply to me.â
You shoot him a pointed look. âProtocol applies to everyone.â
âBoring people,â he counters, grinning wider. âWhich, by the way, you are not. I donât buy it.â
You feel your cheeks flush. âI donât think you understand the stakes here.â
âOh, I understand perfectly. But, come on âŠâ He gestures to the small group of advisors around the table. âLook at this! Two teams acting like weâre two PR disasters waiting to happen ⊠itâs ridiculous. You would think we were in the middle of an international scandal.â
âWe are in the middle of an international scandal,â you say, exasperated. âPeople think weâre dating. Itâs a breach of public trust for both of us-â
He snorts. âYouâre talking like Iâm some kind of international criminal. Come on, Princess. Itâs just a rumor.â
âItâs more than that,â you insist, struggling to keep your voice steady. âThis rumor reflects on me, on my family. On Norway.â
He watches you, head tilted, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. âAnd do you care?â
You frown, feeling that flush creep back to your cheeks. âOf course I care.â
âNo, I mean, do you care about it â us? I mean, the rumor?â
Thereâs something disarming in the way he says it, like heâs testing you. You canât help but hesitate, your well-rehearsed words slipping just out of reach.
âItâs my duty,â you finally say, straightening your shoulders, âto uphold my familyâs reputation.â
He doesnât seem impressed. Instead, he shakes his head, a bemused smile on his lips. âYouâre so serious. Makes me think I really did pick the right princess.â
Noora coughs, clearly eager to refocus the meeting. âLetâs discuss the actual statement, shall we?â
You nod, relieved to move on, but Franco holds up a hand, eyes still locked on yours. âI just want to say, for the record ⊠I donât think Iâd mind the rumors, if they were true.â
Thereâs a moment of silence, thick and uncomfortable. You can feel the curious stares of your team, the surprise on Nooraâs face, the quiet snickers from Francoâs side.
âMr. Colapinto,â you say carefully, âthis is neither the time nor place for that kind of ⊠remark.â
He shrugs, unbothered. âWho decides that?â
Noora jumps in. âWe do. And as such, we have a preliminary draft weâd like to review with both of you. Itâs brief and to the point, which is important.â
Abbie leans in, already reading over the statement. âThe recent reports of a romantic relationship between Princess Y/N and Franco Colapinto are entirely false and without merit. Both parties are focused on their respective roles and responsibilities and have not been involved in any way that would support these rumors.â She looks up, pleased with herself.
You give an approving nod, glancing at Franco. âShort and factual. Perfect.â
Franco frowns, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. âItâs a little ⊠cold, donât you think?â
âThatâs the point,â you say flatly. âWeâre supposed to be shutting down the rumors, not fueling them.â
He lifts an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. âHow about something more like ⊠while I have great respect for Princess Y/N and have enjoyed our time together, I can confirm that we are, unfortunately, just friends?â
You look at him, horrified. âNo. Absolutely not.â
âOh, come on.â He gives you a devilish grin. âItâs all about the narrative, Princess. People want romance, intrigue. Youâre literal royalty â give them a little fairytale.â
You feel your cheeks burn, and it takes everything you have not to snap back at him. âThis isnât some soap opera, Mr. Colapinto.â
âFranco,â he corrects, eyes still dancing with mischief.
Noora clears her throat again. âI think itâs best we stick with the original statement.â
He gives you a mockingly solemn nod. âAs you wish, Your Highness.â
You give a small, exasperated sigh, looking back to Noora and Abbie. âIf weâre all agreed, can we proceed?â
Abbie glances between you and Franco, as if gauging the tension in the air. âYes. Weâll finalize the statement this evening and have it released tomorrow morning.â
Franco pushes back his chair, rising to his feet. âWell, I suppose that settles it, then.â He glances down at you, his gaze lingering a bit too long. âShame, though. This couldâve been fun.â
You fold your arms, giving him a pointed look. âWe have very different definitions of fun.â
âClearly,â he says, his smirk deepening. âBut tell me, donât you ever get tired of all this?â He gestures around at the meeting room, the stacks of paperwork, the solemn faces of your advisors. âThe rules, the protocol. Doesnât it get ⊠dull?â
You purse your lips, resisting the temptation to give him a real answer. âItâs my duty.â
He tilts his head, his expression softening just slightly. âI get duty. But whereâs the fun?â
You open your mouth to respond, but the words donât come. And for a second, just a second, you wonder if he has a point.
Francoâs gaze sharpens as he watches you struggle to respond. And then, to your utter shock, he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours. âHere,â he says, with that sly, teasing smile.
Before you can pull away, he lifts your hand, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate gesture. His eyes hold yours as he brushes his mouth over your knuckles, lingering just long enough to make you feel the heat creeping up your face.
âI promise,â he murmurs, voice low and smooth, âthe next time I kiss you, Princess, itâll be somewhere much more pleasurable.â
You pull your hand back, heart pounding, but he only grins, unbothered, and gives you a playful wink.
âUntil next time, Your Highness.â
***
The bar is dimly lit, tucked away on a quiet street where no one knows who you are and, more importantly, no one cares. Itâs the perfect place to slip away from the weight of your title, from the headlines, from the rules and the statement that your team is probably drafting up at this very moment. For once, you just want to sit here, nursing a drink, and pretend youâre anyone else.
The whiskey burns as it goes down, but itâs a welcome distraction. You let out a breath, easing back against the bar, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders release. For the first time all day, no one is watching, no one is whispering. Youâre just ⊠here.
Until a voice slides into the quiet like a warm breeze. âDidnât think Iâd find royalty in a place like this.â
You donât even need to look to know itâs him. You donât turn, but your grip on the glass tightens as Franco slides onto the stool beside you, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
âWhat are you doing here?â You ask, not bothering to mask the exasperation in your voice.
âMe?â He says, all innocence. âJust having a drink. Same as you.â He signals the bartender. âTequila,â he says, then nods at your glass, smirking. âAnd whatever sheâs having.â
You sigh. âOf all the bars in London, you had to pick this one?â
He grins, shameless. âMaybe I just have good taste.â
You roll your eyes. âHighly doubtful.â
He chuckles, unfazed. âCome on, Princess. I know youâre thrilled to see me.â
âThrilled isnât exactly the word Iâd use.â
He leans in, his voice dropping low enough that it feels like a secret. âWhat would you use, then?â
You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you consider. âMildly inconvenienced.â
He laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that catches you off guard. You try to keep your face impassive, but thereâs something disarming about his laughter, something that makes you wonder why it feels like heâs always able to unravel you with so little effort.
âFine,â he says, leaning his elbow on the bar, mirroring your posture. âThen Iâll just sit here, mildly inconveniencing you until you admit youâre enjoying yourself.â
You scoff. âThatâs not going to happen.â
His whiskey arrives, and he raises his glass, clinking it lightly against yours. âCare to bet on that?â
You raise an eyebrow. âDo you always think everythingâs a game?â
âOnly when itâs fun,â he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. Thereâs something undeniably bold about the way he watches you, something that sends a little thrill down your spine despite yourself.
You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. âWhat exactly do you think youâre doing here?â
âI thought that was obvious,â he says, his voice turning softer, more intimate. âIâm trying to get to know you.â
You snort. âGet to know me? Iâm pretty sure you just want to use this as an excuse to fuel the rumors.â
âMaybe the rumors are more interesting than you think,â he counters smoothly, sipping his drink. âOr maybe Iâm just curious.â
âCurious?â You echo, lifting an eyebrow. âAbout what?â
âAbout what a princess does when no oneâs watching.â His eyes flash with that familiar glint, and he gives you a lazy, unapologetic smile. âAnd so far, you donât disappoint.â
You laugh, but thereâs no humor in it. âIf youâre trying to charm me, itâs not working.â
âOh, I donât need to try,â he says, his voice soft but self-assured. âI just do.â
You shake your head, determined not to let him win this little game. âI donât think youâre as irresistible as you think you are.â
âMaybe.â He tilts his head, studying you with an infuriating level of focus. âBut youâre still here, arenât you?â
Your retort dies on your lips as his hand moves closer, resting just on the edge of the bar, fingers inching toward yours. Itâs subtle, but it sends a pulse of awareness up your arm, and youâre suddenly very aware of how close he is, the warmth radiating from him, the intensity of his gaze as it lingers on you.
You straighten, clearing your throat. âSo whatâs your endgame here, Franco?â
âNo endgame,â he says easily, but thereâs a promise in his tone, a flicker in his eyes that makes it hard to believe. âJust wanted a drink with a pretty princess.â
You almost laugh. Almost. âYouâre insufferable, you know that?â
âIs that why youâre smiling?â He asks, leaning closer.
You hadnât realized you were. You quickly straighten your face, but heâs already noticed, that knowing smirk widening as he takes another sip of his drink.
âRelax, Princess. Youâre allowed to have fun, too.â
âDefine fun,â you say, though youâre painfully aware that youâre actually enjoying this little back-and-forth. Itâs dangerous, exhilarating â two things you never let yourself indulge in.
âFun?â He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. âFun is you, sitting here, pretending you donât like me, while secretly hoping Iâll keep talking.â
You roll your eyes. âDelusional.â
âMaybe,â he says, and his hand moves again â this time, resting casually on your thigh under the bar. The touch is light, but itâs enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make you momentarily forget the carefully constructed boundaries youâve set.
âFranco,â you warn, though your voice is less steady than youâd like.
He raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing a slow, almost absentminded circle against your leg. âProblem?â
You donât answer, but he takes your silence as permission, his fingers edging just a little higher, teasingly close, as if heâs daring you to stop him. And you should. You know you should. But for some reason, you donât.
He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. âTell me to stop, Princess. And I will.â
Your mind races, every sensible thought colliding with the thrill thatâs building inside you. You swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch.
âWhy would I tell you to stop,â you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, âif I donât want you to?â
He grins, satisfied. âNow weâre getting somewhere.â
Before you can respond, heâs closing the distance, his hand slipping higher under your dress, his thumb brushing slow circles that make your heart race. Itâs reckless and wild and nothing youâd ever thought youâd do â but in this moment, it feels impossible to resist.
The next few minutes are a blur of whispered words and stolen glances, your resolve slipping with every soft touch, every cocky grin he throws your way. You barely register the decision to leave the bar until youâre outside, standing on the quiet street, the night air cool against your flushed skin.
âYour place or mine?â He asks, his voice a playful drawl.
You hesitate, a thousand reasons to walk away tumbling through your mind. But when you look at him â at that unrelenting confidence, the challenge in his eyes â you feel your control waver. Just this once, you tell yourself. Just this once, youâll let yourself break the rules.
âYours,â you say, surprised at the steadiness of your voice.
He doesnât waste a second, taking your hand and leading you down the street, his grip warm and solid, grounding you even as your heart races. You follow him, pulse pounding with each step, until youâre standing outside his hotel room door, the reality of what youâre doing hitting you in a rush.
But then heâs looking at you again, that mischievous smile softening into something more intimate, and your doubts fade. He opens the door, and you step inside, feeling as though youâre crossing some invisible line.
The room is dim, the city lights casting a faint glow through the windows. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and for a moment, you see a different side of him â something softer, deeper.
âLast chance to change your mind,â he murmurs, his voice low.
You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. But instead of answering, you lean up, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a kiss thatâs tentative at first, then deepening as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.
And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you donât think about duty, or protocol, or anything else. In this moment, thereâs only you and him and the quiet thrill of finally letting go.
***
francolapinto
Liked by f1wagupdates, royalwatchers, and 714,925 others
francolapinto all the rumours are true
View all 3,816 comments
pintobean everyone called me crazy for believing the articles but look whoâs laughing now!
coca-colapinto because as much as i love franco, thereâs no way i was about to believe he couldâve pulled a whole ass princess
pintobean this is a lesson not to underestimate his rizz
coca-colapinto please never say that unironically again
f1wagupdates pray for their PR teams, whatever theyâre earning is not nearly enough đ
gridgossip franco had exactly nine races to turn the paddock upside down and boy did he not disappoint
f1wagupdates who needs an f1 seat in 2025 when you can have a throne?
***
The morning arrives far too soon, sunlight streaming through the hotel curtains and casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. You barely have time to blink yourself awake when a loud, frantic banging rattles the door, shaking you out of the haze of last night.
Franco groans beside you, his arm lazily draped over your waist. âYou expecting someone?â
Youâre too comfortable, too wrapped up in the warmth of his skin and the lingering bliss to even think straight. âNot ⊠exactly.â
The pounding persists, and then voices â urgent, unmistakable voices â filter through the door. âFranco! Y/N! Are you in there? Itâs urgent!â
Your eyes widen, a flash of panic cutting through the sleepiness. Franco doesnât seem fazed. He barely lifts his head off the pillow, his hand lazily running down your spine as he mutters, âTheyâll go away.â
âIâm not so sure about that.â You push yourself up slightly, glancing over the bed, finding discarded clothes and a vague sense of regret somewhere on the floor. The pounding grows louder, and finally, Franco sits up, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably disheveled.
He stretches, glancing at you with a lazy grin. âWhat do you think? Just a few more minutes or âŠâ
âOpen the door!â Comes a familiar, exasperated voice from the hallway. You recognize it immediately â Noora.
Francoâs eyes meet yours, amusement glinting there. âLooks like we donât have a choice.â
Reluctantly, he pulls himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants from the floor and slipping them on with a casual ease that only makes your heartbeat quicken. He tosses you a smirk over his shoulder before heading to the door.
As he opens it, a whirlwind of people floods into the room â Noora, Abbie, and a few more members of both your PR teams, all of them looking like theyâre seconds away from losing their minds.
âOh my god,â Noora gasps, her gaze darting between you and Franco, her face turning several shades of pink. âThis ⊠this is-â
âCompletely reckless!â Abbie finishes, giving you a look thatâs half shock, half scandalized admiration. âWhat were you two thinking?â
Franco crosses his arms, unfazed. âGood morning to you too.â
One of Williamsâ other PR officers steps forward, looking ready to faint. âFranco, do you have any idea what youâve done? Those photos ⊠your Instagram âŠâ
Franco grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. âWhat, people are talking?â
âTalking?â Noora squeaks, her voice an octave higher than usual. She glares at you, her eyes wide, almost pleading. âThis is a disaster! Do you understand what youâve done to our schedule, our statement plan? And the ⊠the-â Her gaze flickers to the faint marks on your neck, and her knees buckle. Abbie reaches out quickly, guiding her to a chair.
âMaybe we overreacted,â Abbie mutters, though she doesnât take her eyes off you. âOr maybe we didnât react enough.â
You feel a rush of heat flood your face as everyoneâs gaze lands on you. Franco catches it and gives you a cheeky wink, clearly enjoying the chaos heâs created.
âLook,â you say, trying to keep your voice steady, âmaybe we got a little carried away, but itâs ⊠itâs not like we did anything wrong.â
âNothing wrong?â Noora says, her voice faint as she studies the marks on your neck again. âYou ⊠you have no idea how this looks, do you?â
Franco, completely unfazed, strolls over to the mirror above the dresser. He takes a long look at his own reflection, tilting his head to admire the scratches and darkening bruises scattered across his skin. âLooks like a good night to me.â
Your PR teams collectively groan, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Franco catches your eye in the mirror, and the mischievous spark there makes it impossible not to crack a smile.
âFranco, this isnât a joke!â One of his managers snaps, practically pulling at his hair. âDo you know how many calls weâve received since you posted those photos?â
Franco shrugs, giving them a lazy grin. âThen turn off your phone. Worked for me.â
Another round of exasperated sighs fills the room, and you canât help but feel a twinge of sympathy for your PR team. Not enough, though, to actually feel bad.
Noora steps forward, hands on her hips, looking at you with an expression thatâs somehow both sympathetic and stern. âYour Highness, this is ⊠unprecedented. We need to issue a statement immediately, clarify this situation-â
âOr not,â Franco interrupts, his tone far too nonchalant. He turns away from the mirror, crossing his arms. âHonestly, I think the people like a little mystery, donât you?â
Noora gives him a look that could wilt flowers. âThis isnât about what the people like, Mr. Colapinto. Itâs about protecting reputations.â
âOh, so weâre doing that now?â Franco glances at you, his smile playful. âFunny, last night I didnât get the sense that the two of us in this room were all that worried about reputations.â
Your face flushes, and you shoot him a look thatâs half reprimand, half reluctant amusement. âYouâre not helping.â
He shrugs, unbothered. âWho said I was trying to help?â
Abbie lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. âCan we at least agree that this ⊠whatever this is, stays here? Quietly?â
Franco raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a smirk. âYou hear that, Princess? Quietly. Doesnât sound like much fun to me.â
You swallow, trying to ignore the way his gaze makes your stomach flip. âMaybe some things should be quiet,â you say, though your voice sounds unconvincing even to you.
Noora, still looking a bit wobbly, clears her throat. âPlease, can we just ⊠make a plan?â
Franco sighs, feigning disappointment. âFine. Make your plan. But donât expect me to follow it.â
Before anyone can respond, he gives you one last smirk and strides over to the door, pulling it open. âIn fact, I think itâs about time we had the room to ourselves, donât you think?â
The PR teams exchange panicked glances, but they donât have much choice as Franco gives them a not-so-subtle wave toward the exit. Noora opens her mouth to protest, but Abbie gently ushers her toward the door, casting one last look at you thatâs a mix of concern and reluctant approval.
âWeâll be in touch,â Abbie says, but thereâs a hint of resignation in her tone, as if she knows that whatever control they thought they had is slipping fast.
Once the last of them has been herded out, Franco shuts the door with a decisive click. He turns back to you, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and before you can process it, heâs crossing the room, closing the distance between you in seconds.
âYou know,â he says, his voice low and teasing, âI think we gave them quite a show.â
You roll your eyes, but you canât stop the smile that tugs at your lips. âWe? That was mostly you.â
He laughs softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. âYou didnât exactly object.â
Youâre about to respond, but he doesnât give you the chance. His hands find your waist, and suddenly youâre being guided backward, the mattress hitting the back of your legs as he eases you down. His gaze is intense, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intent.
âFranco,â you murmur, but the way heâs looking at you steals the rest of your words.
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, âWeâre not done yet, Princess.â
Your heart races as he shifts, his hands warm against your skin, his weight pressing you back into the bed. And as he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss thatâs somehow both playful and possessive, you realize that whatever the consequences, whatever scandal might follow ⊠right now, none of it matters.
Right now, thereâs only him, the quiet thrill of his touch, and the feeling of finally â finally â giving in.
***
The night sky over Las Vegas glitters with a million lights, bright enough to drown out the stars, as the driversâ parade winds down the track. The grandstands are packed, the excitement in the air palpable even before the race has started.
Franco is perched atop the back of a bus, arms folded, his easy smirk in place as he surveys the flashing cameras and cheering fans. Beside him stands Lewis Hamilton, calm and collected as always, with that practiced smile of someone whoâs done this a thousand times.
Franco nudges Lewis with his elbow, grinning. âSo, you know weâre both basically royalty now, right?â
Lewis chuckles, giving him a sideways look. âOh, yeah? What makes you think that?â
Franco shrugs, looking as if heâs contemplating something serious for a split second, then tilts his head. âWell, youâve got the knighthood, Sir Hamilton,â he says, drawing out the words with an exaggerated British accent. âAnd Iâve got, well âŠâ He grins, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. âThe princess.â
Lewis laughs, a rich, full sound. âAh, I see. So youâre actually out here trying to one-up my knighthood?â
Franco clutches his chest dramatically. âExactly. I mean, not to make it a competition, but Iâm basically a prince now. Which, if weâre being technical, puts me a bit above you in rank.â
Lewis lets out a snort, rolling his eyes. âShut up, man. Iâm a knight, not a court jester.â
Franco raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. âHey, Iâm just stating the facts. Iâm sure knighthoodâs very nice, but I think thereâs something to be said for having a princess.â
Lewis shakes his head, trying not to laugh. âSo itâs true, then?â
For the first time, Francoâs smirk softens into something else, something quieter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with an expression thatâs unmistakably fond. Heâs not looking at Lewis now, or at the cheering fans, or even the flashing cameras around them. His gaze is locked on his phone, where an image fills the screen.
Itâs you, cozy on the couch with your Cavalier King Charles Spaniel in your lap, a warm blanket wrapped around you, hair falling casually over your shoulder. Youâre looking straight into the camera, a relaxed smile on your face, and thereâs an almost surprising intimacy in the photo â the kind that doesnât come from a staged royal portrait but from a simple, real moment. Itâs the type of photo someone only sends to someone they care about.
Franco doesnât say anything right away. He just stares at the image, his thumb tracing lightly over the screen, as if heâs savoring the private moment before he has to lock his phone away for the race.
He nods, almost to himself. âYeah. Itâs true.â
Lewis studies him slowly, an almost invisible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âDidnât think Iâd see the day,â he murmurs, a touch of amusement there. âGuess youâre growing up, huh?â
Franco finally looks up, chuckling. âSpeak for yourself, man. Iâm still a kid at heart.â
Lewis raises an eyebrow. âA kid at heart whoâs dating a princess? Thatâs a combination I didnât see coming.â
âNeither did I, to be honest.â Franco leans back, stretching his arms out along the edge of the bus, still clutching his phone in one hand. âOne minute, Iâm just minding my business, and the next ⊠boom.â He snaps his fingers. âThe entire world decides weâre dating. Didnât even know her name before then.â
Lewis chuckles. âAnd now youâre on your phone looking at pictures she sent you. Youâve come a long way.â
Franco glances down at the picture again, a private smile playing on his lips. âGuess I have.â
The parade continues, the roar of the crowd swelling around them as they pass another section of the grandstand, but it all feels distant. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence, and Franco finds himself thinking back over the past few weeks, the whirlwind of rumors and statements, and then ⊠the quiet moments that somehow followed.
Lewis studies him, eyes narrowing in that perceptive way he has. âSo ⊠you and her. Is it, like, official?â
Franco lets out a short laugh. âAre you kidding? This is Her Royal Highness weâre talking about. Thereâs no âofficialâ until weâve been courting for at least a year. Thereâs procedure and ⊠whatâs the word she loves to use? Protocol.â
âProtocol.â Lewis grins. âThat sounds ⊠exactly like what you hate.â
âOh, believe me.â Franco laughs, shaking his head. âSheâs been trying to teach me, but I donât think Iâve followed protocol a single time. I mean, she actually tried to tell me what utensils I should use at dinner. Like, why does it matter?â
âDidnât go well, huh?â
âLetâs just say Iâve decided that those tiny forks are optional.â Franco sighs, pocketing his phone. âBut thatâs her. She takes it all so seriously. Makes me want to take it seriously too, in some strange way.â
Lewis tilts his head, watching him. âI get that. Thatâs what happens when someone really means something to you.â He pauses, as if weighing his words. âSo, sheâs watching tonight?â
Franco nods, a flash of pride evident in his smile. âShe sent me this right before we went out for the parade.â He taps his pocket, where his phone is hidden now. âSaid sheâd be watching. Donât know how she manages to get away with it, with her schedule planned out months in advance, but sheâs ⊠creative.â
Lewis laughs, shaking his head. âThe lengths you two go to. Like some kind of fairytale romance.â
The bus theyâre on takes another slow turn around the parade route, the lights of Las Vegas casting a surreal glow over the scene. The streets are packed with fans, all of them waving and shouting, and Franco finds himself wondering if youâre watching this right now. He imagines you, curled up on the couch with that fluffy little dog of yours, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Franco smiles. âYeah, I guess it really is.â
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#franco colapinto#fc43#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fic#franco colapinto fluff#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#williams racing#williams f1#williams#formula 1#f1 instagram au
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DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! â MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didnât even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like âhimâ
INFO...megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, toji x fem!reader, angst angst angst, megs is 17, absent father, family trauma, young love, arguing, talks of pregnancy, talks of killing/assassination, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
based on: like him by tyler the creator
âAlright move closer into the photoâyep! Perfect!â Your mom held the camera up to her eye, slightly bending down. âAlright, threeâŠtwoâŠone!â She snapped the photo, smiling as she looked at you and Toji.
It was Megumiâs first birthday, friends and family surrounding to celebrate. Endless gifts and food, music playing over the speakers. Small children ran around the yard, infectious laughter filling the air. The sun shined brightly, not a cloud in the sky. You were happy. Toji held Megumi tight in arm, looking down at the baby with a full head of jet black hair.
You and Toji had met in high school, falling for each other in an instant. You were captivated by his silent and mysterious presence and Toji was capture by your smile and the way your eyes shined in the light. But neither of you expected to end up with a baby boy just two years later after graduation. Not a single moment was regretted. You wouldnât trade this for the world.
âHappy birthday, little man,â he scoffed, holding Megumi above his head. He babbled, giggling as he chewed on his chubby fingers, smiling at his father with love in his eyes.
âI canât wait to frame this one. You guys look so cute.â Your mom pouted, walking back into the house to put the camera away.
A soft smile spread across your face, holding onto Tojiâs arm. âDid you ever think youâd become a dad?â You suddenly asked, watching as your baby played with the fabric of his shirt.
Toji turned towards you, a confused look on his face. âNo, butâŠIâm happy I did. You know Iâd do anything for you two.â Toji pulled you in by your waist. âDid you ever think youâd become a mom?â
You shook your head, reaching a hand out to move hair out Megumiâs face. âItâs just weird. We were so young, you know? We still are. But, it feels right.â You rested your heard on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. A small laugh erupted from your chest, âI carry him for nine months and he came out looking exactly like you.â
âWhat can I say? I got strong genes, baby.â He nudges you slightly, teasing.
âOh, hush. I did all the work.â You roll your eyes at him.
âIâm only messing with you.â He plants a kiss on your forehead. âGo on, give mama a kiss, little man.â He holds Megumi towards you. As if on cue, he leans his head down and places his slobbery mouth on your forehead. âThere you go! Good job!â He chuckles, smiling at his son. âI canât wait until youâre older so I can teach you about all sorts of things.â Megumi grabs ahold of Tojiâs finger in his small palm, squeezing it. âGonna teach you all types of sports, how to fight so you can protect mommy. I bet youâll be a good baseball player.â Megumi squeals at Toji. âBaseball? Yeah? Alright, baseball it is.â He kisses his cheek.
You stand there, admiring your two favorite boys. Itâs like you see the future when you look at them. A happy life, a cozy home. Maybe even a sibling for Megumi. A ring on your finger, happily married. Thinking of the days when Megumi starts going to school and brings back all his little projects so you can put them in a box and keep them for the future. You already had so much planned at such a young age, but you were determined to fight for it. For him. For your son.
Megumi sits on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The ceiling fan provides a low hum as it spins. He stares at the wilted paper in his hand, a handwritten note to himâone heâs never seen until now. His chest feels tight, tears welling in his eyes as he reads who itâs from over and over again.
âYour Dad
It feels like he canât breathe, anger swirling through him. He thinks of all those times you dismissed his questions and conversations about his fatherâwhoever his father was. And now, he was holding a note from him that was written fifteen years ago. A note of how sorry he is and nothing else. A man of few words. No explanation, nothing.
Growing up, Megumi learned from a young age that he looked just like âhimâ. His grandmother and grandfather always slipping up, staring at him like a ghost had just walked in the room. It only got worse as he grew older, starting growing into his features. You even began to stare at him, a look of sadness in your eyes. He never would say anything, always keeping his mouth shut like he didnât notice. Not once, did you ever speak of his father. Hell, he didnât even know his name or what he looked like, but from what heâs been told, he probably looks like an older version of him.
All those days, watching fathers bond with their sons, his friends dads coming to sports games, school events, he always felt like deep down something was missing. He felt different. Every Fatherâs Day, being tasked to make something special in school for their fathers, but how is a nine year old supposed to say he doesnât have one? How is a thirteen year old supposed to participate in the father-son day at school when he doesnât have one? How is a seventeen year old supposed to feel when he sees everyone posting their dads on social media, a heartfelt message written with each one, yet he doesnât even have a photograph to remember him by?
Tears fall on the paper and the hurt that he held back is now manifesting. Why was so hard for you to say anything about him? Was he dead? Is that why it was so hard? Yet, there was no excuse. Whatever it was, he needed to know why he left. Why he was so sorry. It wasnât until he heard the front door open, your calming voice calling out to him.
âMegs, Iâm home!â You shut the door, placing your bag on the countertop.
The door to his bedroom swung open, fresh tears still on his cheeks, the wrinkled note gripped in his hand. He stomped towards you. âWhat is this?â His nostrils flared.
A crease between your brows formed, noticing the distressed look on his face before your eyes landed on what he was holding. You felt your heart drop, your mouth falling open to say something, anything, but nothing came out. âMegââ
âWhat is this? Huh?! I found it in the back of your drawer! A note from my dad!â He slammed the paper down. âWho is he?! Why did he leave?!â He was screaming, his anger pouring out through his words. âYou never talk about him! No one does!â He throws his hands up. âYou keptâŠyou fucking kept this from me! Fifteen years!â Hot tears spill from his eyes.
Your eyes widen, your lip quivering as you hold back tears. âIâm sorry.â Your voice breaks. âIâve been wanting to tell youââ
âWhen? When, mom?! I donât even know his fucking name! I donât know what he looks like! Thereâs not a single picture in this house of him? Is he even alive?!â The look in his eyes makes you want to break down. You knew this day would come sooner or later, but you never expected it to turn out this way. The note. Of course it was the note. Almost like it was fate.
You inhaled deeply, licking your lips as tears fall. âIâm sorry, baby. I justâŠâ
âWhy canât you tell me?â He speaks softly, voice wavering. âI see it in your face. Everyday when you look at meâŠyou can see him. Who is my dad?â He clenches his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. âWhy did he leave us? Why did he leave me?â He questions before fully breaking down into tears, sobbing.
âNo,no,â you whisper, taking him in your arms. His tears soak through the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you like his life depends on it. âItâs not your fault, baby? You hear me? Itâs not his, not yours. Itâs complicated.â As you stand there with him in your arms, flashbacks of that night Toji left flood your brain.
âThen where is he? Is he dead?â Megumi asks, raising his head to look at you. The question makes you freeze up, biting on your bottom lip so hard youâre sure to draw blood. âIs he dead, mom?â He stands up straight, wiping his tears.
âIâŠI donât know,â you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders. You shake your head as you look at your son, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. So hurt and disgusted. âHe loved you so much, Megumi. I promise you.â
âWhat do you mean you donât know? If he loved me, he wouldnât have left!â He shouted in anger. âWho is he?! Just tell me!â He pleads through his cries.
âHis name was Toji. Toji Fushiguro.â You stare at him. âMe and your father met young, back in high school. We had you two years after we graduated. We were so scared. Well, I was scared, but your father was ready. He was so excited,â you chuckle, remembering when you first told him you were pregnant. âHe loved you, Megumi. And thatâs the exact reason why he left,â you explain.
He shakes his head at you. âIt doesnât make any sense.â
âYour father did everything he could to provide for me and you. You were his everything. His little man. But, he got caught up with the wrong people trying to find ways to make quick money. He was young and desperate, we both were.â Your eyes flutter shut, letting out a sigh. âWhat your father did for moneyâŠyou wouldnât think he was a good man. He made enemiesââ
âMom, what are you saying?! Iâm not a kid anymore! Just tell meââ
âHe killed people, Megumi! Is that what you wanna hear! He fucking killed people just so he could put food on the table! Fuck!â You hurriedly stand to your feet, looking away from him.
âWhatâŠ?â He nearly said in a whisper.
âI donât want you to think he wasnât a good man, Megs. I donât want you think he hated you or me. He didnât. But what he was doing put him and us in danger. He realized that and he left. He couldnât put us in danger, especially you. That night he left he wrote you this.â You grabbed the note off the counter. âI begged him to stay, baby. I did. I tried. I tried everything.â Megumi sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead of his as he took all this information in. âHe never stopped loving you, Megs. He never wanted to leave.â
He slowly turned to look at you, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were red and glossy from crying. âWhereâd he go?â
âI donât know, baby. He never told me.â You shook your head. He sobbed softly, holding his head in his hands. You walked over, sitting beside him and pulled him into your arms. âDonât hate him,â you whispered. âHeâd be so proud of the man you became. Such a sweet, strong, and smart boy.â
âWhen did he leave?â Megumi asked.
âA week after your second birthday,â you spoke, biting at the skin on your lip. âHe told me you were the best thing to ever happen to him.â You wipe away his tears as they continue to fall. âHeâs not a bad guy, heâs just done bad things.â
Now knowing what happened to his father, Megumi felt like his whole world came crashing down. What his father did, who he was. How he came to be. And as much resentment as he holds, he canât bring himself to hate him. In a way, he understands, but at the same time he doesnât. He wonders how different things would be if he was here. What life would be Ike. âIâm sorry, mom,â he cried.
âDonât be, baby. Iâm sorry for keeping from you for so long. I didnât know how to tell you. I didnât want you to think he was a bad man. I was scared.â You continue to hold him in your arms, consoling him.
âWhat does he look like?â He asks.
You smile, looking down at him. âYou guys are damn near twins.â
Megumi chuckles a little, âI figured.â
âWait there a moment.â He watches as slip into your bedroom, a few second passing by before you walk out with something in your hands. âHere.â
Megumi looks down, seeing the array of photos you hold on your hands and hesitates on taking them from you. You sit beside him as he grabs them and looks at the first one. âIs that him and you?â He asks, never taking his eyes off the photo.
âBack in high school.â It was one of the first few photos you and Toji ever took together. A picture at the homecoming dance, a plain look on his face while you had a wide smile on your face. âYour father barely ever smiled. But when you came around, he couldnât stop.â
Megumi was struck. He really did look like him. From the hair, to the eyes, to the nose. Everything. He looked at the next photo. You were pregnant, Toji holding your belly while kissing your cheek. âYou guys looked really happy,â he says.
âOf course we were. Me and your dad loved each other very much. I still love him.â Megumi looks over at you as you say those last words. You still hold so much hope and love in your heart and that tells him maybe he should let this resentment for his father go. Maybe it was time to move on.
âWas this my birthday?â He questions, looking at the family photo your mother took of you three that day. He could see a faint smile on his fatherâs face, looking at the way Toji held him so close in his arms.
âYour very first birthday. So many good memories. Despite the fact you threw up on your dadâs shirt,â you laughed.
âReally?!â Megumi smiles. You nod, still giggling. âYikes, he mustâve been pissed.â
âAt first he was mad, but then saw you started crying after and felt horrible. I remember his exact words, âStop crying, little man. You can throw up on this shirt a thousand times if you want to.â He could never stay mad at you.â You brush his cheek, watching his smile get wider and wider.
He finally gets to the last picture. One you took of Toji asleep with Megumi on his chest. âI took that picture after it took him three hours to get you to sleep. You didnât want to sleep in your crib, kept crying and crying and finally your father just fell asleep with you on his chest.â You watch as he runs his thumb over the picture, observing it more than he did the other ones. âYou can keep it if you want.â
âReally?â He glanced at you, a desperate look in his eye.
âOf course.â You kissed his cheek. âI have more we can look at later.â
Megumi nods. Thereâs a moment of silence as he sits and goes through the pictures again, almost like heâs reliving memories he had no recollection of. âSo, you really donât know if heâs alive or not?â
You shake your head. âLike I said, what your father did caused him to get caught up with the wrong people, making enemies out of anyone. He was never scared of them, of course. But he knew if they ever found out about you or me, it wouldnât end well.,â you explained. âI wish I knew.â
âIs it weird that I miss him?â He turned towards you, confused. âHow can I miss someone I donât even remember?â His eyes became teary.
âOh, Megs.â You wiped his tears. âItâs not weird at all, sweetheart. Iâm sure he misses you too. A whole lot.â You give him a sad smile.
He sniffles, looking down at the pictures. It was like he finally felt this weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After years of this gut wrenching feeling, he finally knows the truth. His father did love you. Love him. He no longer felt casted aside. And that feeling gave him hope that maybe heâs still out there, still alive.
#ââclassyrbf#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk angst#toji x reader#toji angst#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro angst#toji fushiguro x reader angst#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#megumi angst#megumi fishiguro angst#jjk x reader angst#Spotify
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tearing my hair out thinking about simon proposing to you on a random thursday night.
you two just so happened to grab coffee at the usual cafe which is pricey but they make the best mocha so itâs whatever, before ambling outside to a cozy nook, lit with fairy lights and warmed up by a portable heater. the wind is chilled but not too cold, and it is soft as it caresses your cheeks, and simon breathes in, trying to reel it in butâ
youâre telling him about work; about this shitty coworker that almost made you lose all sense of professionalism, and simon is crushed by this overwhelming desire as he listens to you rant. heâs always felt the need before but it was only ever a whisper because simon has always wanted to marry you so he learned to tune it out, rationalizing to himself that itâs still too early. too young. too fragile and raw.
but itâs strange today.
youâre all angry and exhausted to the bone, and the coffees have gone lukewarm, and, hell, he hasnât even washed his hair yet but simonâ
he needs to ask. he needs to tell you.
he needs toâ
your voice peters into silence as simon places a small box on the table and slides it towards you.
âwhat,â you rasp out, still breathless and quiet.
âwill you marry me?â simon asks, just as softly. just as tentative and hesitant.
the word yes has never fallen from your lips that quickly.
#suns#simon ghost riley x reader#love truly is in the air bc i was yearning to the maximum levels a while ago
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ok but what happens if/when Simonâs down for the count after a rough op, and itâs more than a little while until his worried nonverbal gf is allowed to see him. does soap step up? make sure sheâs taken care of until Simon recovers? reassure her than Simon will be ok in the end? i MUST know, desperate to find out how this affects their dynamic
(Note: Iâm gonna start referring to reader as selectively mute because I was made aware that this is a more accurate description!)
So, to be quite clear, I think she can take care of herself. Sheâs a whole adult. Simon knows this, and Soap does too. But the real question is what bullshit is Soapâs hindbrain telling him?
Itâs that her mateâs down for the count and as a fellow pack member, heâs responsible for stepping up to provide. But heâs trying his best not to crowd!! He knows his LT would kick his ass for that. So heâs dropping by once a day, telling her exactly where heâll be and when in case she needs him, and says to call him any time, for any reason at all.
Sheâs just nodding and humming affirmatively occasionally, and she leads him around the house. Eventually he figures out that sheâs bringing him stuff to bring for Simonâ because Soap is in his unit, he can visit, but civilians like her canât (live in my magical reality where this is how the military works for a sec). He thinks she looks like a pretty birdâ gathering up the best of the nesting things for her man.
Heâll ask if she wants him to stick around for a while, and she doesnât say anything, but he can see her grind her teeth a bit. And itâs like another little pin inside the lock of his mind clicks into place.
âKnow what, bonnie? Dinnae feel like goinâ out today, actually. Errands sound like a fuckinâ ballache right now. Gonna stick around if yâdinnae mind.â
He orders dinner for the two of themâ there are some menus stuck on the fridge that have some highlights and underlines in them. Thereâs a little asterisk and a note in Ghostâs chicken scratch. Safe foods (haha what if I said she had food anxiety too. Then what heehee). So he just orders a few thingsâ heâs a trash can, more than happy to eat whatever she doesnât want. Puts on a movie he remembersâ some ghibli-type thing that was relaxing enough to put her to sleep when they watched it during movie night.
The true mark of progression in their relationship? He keeps blabbing, sure, but he doesnât try to placate her with words. He just keeps the little activities coming so the time can pass without her noticing.
And Simon doesnât even have to ask to know that Soapâs been looking after you. He smells like you. That brown sugar milk tea kinda smell.
âHowâs my birdie? You been keepinâ her good company, Johnny?â
âYou know it only takes her about a day to finish a thousand piece puzzle? Too fuckinâ smart, she is.â Simon chuckles to himself.
âGood man.â
#writing#cod fanfic#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#neurodivergent reader
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