#I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THEY ARE DOING THIS TO ME

[goatgoesmbe]

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, open ending

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant colonel's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence 

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled. 

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ‘im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking  the cotton  even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were  pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that  Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside  you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making  Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe  they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery,

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris spend the night hanging out on his roof after your first day of making sales together.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

The sun sank slowly below the skyline, and the evening turned to nightfall as you and Chris finished up your last deal of the day. You'd been showing him all the stops, introducing him to your customers, and teaching him the way you did everything.

He got into your passenger seat and sighed as his head fell against the headrest, really wishing he had a joint right about now. "Damn, ma. I can't believe how much money we made today," Chris mumbled, slouching down into his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he'd made for the day.

"I know, and we're only a third of the way through the product," you smiled back, doing the math in your head about the potential profit. "I could never work a 9 to 5," Chris sighed, sifting through the $100 bills. "Can't believe I just made in a day what it would take some sucker to make in two weeks at some office job."

You fastened your seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, admiring Chris, who brought his fingers to his lips and slowly licked them as he separated the crisp hundreds. "What are you thinking about, ma? My tongue or my fingers?" Chris flirted, catching you staring out of the corner of his eye and giving you a seductive smirk as he ran his tongue along the pads of his fingers again, flitting through his money.

You squeezed your thighs together as you bit down on your lip. For a moment, you were thinking about both at the same time. You hated the effect he had on you, the way he knew how to get inside your head, intrude on your thoughts, and invade your sexual fantasies. "You're fucking gross, Chris," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to hide how turned on you were.

He responded with a chuckle, knowing that he was getting to you even if you wanted to deny it. "So, am I dropping you off at your girlfriend's house?" You asked, reminding him that he had one. "Nah, can you drop me off at my place? I'm staying home tonight," Chris requested. "I can do that. Just tell me where to go," you replied, your eyes darting around between the road in front of you, your side mirrors, and your rearview.

"So, have you told Daisy yet?" You asked, your gaze flickering over at Chris, who was shaking his head. "I'll tell her, ma, when I'm ready," Chris grumbled. He knew you were right. He knew he had some things to work out, like telling his girlfriend the real way he made his money or dealing with the fact that he was finding himself sexually attracted to his new business partner. He stole another glance at you from your passenger seat as the fantasy he'd had the night before flashed through his mind, praying you wouldn't notice the tent forming in his jeans.

When you pulled into Chris' driveway, he thanked you again for the ride. "I can't believe I've been sober for eight hours," Chris mentioned, bouncing his leg as you parked. "No wonder you've been so uptight today," you teased him. "Maybe you should come smoke with me since you're always uptight," Chris smirked, nudging you in the arm with his elbow, but his offer was genuine.

You gave him an annoyed look, but you couldn't hold back the smile that spread across your lips. "I don't smoke weed, Chris. I haven't since I was a teenager," you replied, fidgeting with the material of your black steering wheel cover. "Why not?" Chris wondered, surprised by your admission. "I like being clear-headed. I don't like feeling out of control," you shrugged.

"We're on a floating rock in space, ma. The idea that you have control over anything is an illusion," Chris laughed, reaching for his door handle. "C'mon. Come inside. Do you drink? I've got a beer with your name on it if you wanna hang out with me for a little."

You were quiet for a second. It wasn't often that people invited you to hang out or just do something fun with them, and for a moment, you thought maybe you could use it. "I could stay for one beer," you responded hesitantly, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "That's what I'm talking about, ma. Let your hair down once in a while," Chris replied, beaming with a smile.

You trailed behind him, staring down at your shoes as you followed the pattern of the stepping stones that led to his front door. "Oh, shit. I forgot my house key at Daisy's place," he sighed, running his finger through his hair. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you need me to take you to Daisy's place after all?" You huffed, slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good anyways. She's at work. Plus, this won't take long," Chris said, pulling a pin out of his pocket and fiddling with the lock. You nervously looked around, worried someone was going to see him picking his lock and call the cops or something, but in a matter of seconds, you heard a click, and you watched as he turned the knob. His door creaked open, and he glanced back at you with a mischevious smile.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What can I say, ma? I'm good with my hands. Gotta show you my skillset somehow," Chris playfully winked at you. You scoffed, biting back a smile. A part of you liked the way he couldn't keep himself from making sexual innuendos and flirting with you.

"If you need me to pick a lock on a deal, though, you're splitting the money 50/50 with me," Chris told you, stepping into his living room. "What kind of shady shit do you think I'm up to, Chris? I'm just selling coke. Not robbing people," you joked, following him in. "You never know," Chris peeked back at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"This is it," he announced, raising his arms to present his place to you. It was a dimly-lit, relatively small place, but it had a safe, cozy vibe to it. "I like it," you told him, your eyes scanning them room. You noticed his sprouting marijuana plants in the corner sitting beneath his grow lights and an old shelf beside it that was littered with comic books and novels you'd never heard of.

His house faintly smelled of weed and sandalwood, like how Chris always smelled, and you found the familiar scent comforting as it wafted through the air. He directed you over towards his couch and motioned for you to sit. You sat down, awkwardly perching at the edge of the couch cushion.

"C'mon, ma. You can relax. Kick your feet up," he told you, heading over towards his fridge to give you that beer he promised you. You exhaled and slowly leaned back into his sofa that was much softer than you imagined it would be. Chris twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to you. The red and white label that read Stella Artois stared back at you, and you hesitantly reached out and took it.

Chris plopped down on the couch beside you, and you watched as he sprinkled a bit of ground weed into his rolling paper. You peered down at his rings and his fingers at the way they skillfully handled the joint, tucking the paper in and folding it in on itself.

His gaze flickered up at you as his tongue darted out, and he licked a long, slow stripe across the edge of the joint. His lips curled into a suggestive smile as he noticed you watching him, but you acted unamused, pulling your eyes away from his. You held the bottle up to your lips, taking a small, refreshing sip, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you relaxed further into the comfy couch.

You peered down the hall to an open door at the end. The room was dark, but you imagined it was probably Chris' bedroom. You found yourself wondering what it looked like, how comfortable his bed was, and how hard it would be for you to keep your hands off of him if you ever found yourself alone with him in there.

"You coming?" Chris asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and standing to his feet as soon as you'd gotten comfortable. "Coming where?" You wondered, giving him a perplexed look. "To the roof. The view's great up there," Chris responded, making his way towards the back door.

You hesitantly followed him back out into the cool air of the backyard where he had a ladder propped up against the side of his house. "C'mon, ma. I'll hold your beer. You start climbing the ladder," Chris told you, extending his arm to take your bottle from you. "Yep. Just smoking and drinking on a roof. What could possibly go wrong?" You muttered under your breath as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, metal rungs.

"Don't worry, ma. I'll be right behind you, so if you fall, I'll catch you," Chris' breath tickled your neck as he pressed his warm body into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the closest you'd ever been to him. You were just glad you were faced away from him, so he couldn't see the unmistakable look of desire written in your expression as heat radiated off his skin.

You cleared your throat and regained your composure. "Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" You snarked at him, peering over your shoulder in an attempt to take control of the situation again. Chris chuckled, but he didn't answer you, leaving it up for interpretation. You started to hesitantly climb the ladder, and Chris followed closely behind, keeping his promise to not let you fall as he held your beer in one hand and the unlit joint between his lips.

The two of you made it to the roof, and Chris handed you your beer once the two of you got settled. The star-filled sky hung overhead as you looked out at the horizon. You saw the tops of the other houses, the city lights scattered across the skyline, and the waves crashing on the beach shore off in the far distance. You brought your bottle of Stella Artois up to your lips and took another sip as you took in the view. There was something about this perspective that made your problems feel smaller and less pressing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, ma?" Chris asked beside you as you heard the flick of his lighter sound as he held the flame up to the end of his joint. You quietly nodded, surprised by how much you could see from Chris' roof. "So, ma. What do you say we get to know each other better and play your favorite game, twenty questions?" Chris smiled over at you with the lit joint pinched between his two fingers.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't have an excuse this time. There was no work to be done, and there was nowhere to go to avoid his questioning, so you took a deep breath and another swig of your drink. "Okay, fine. Hit me," you finally replied after a moment of hesitancy.

"Where do you go to clear your mind?" Chris wondered, his gaze locked on you. "The beach. I like the waves. The sounds of the seagulls. Feeling the sand between my toes. It's peaceful," you shrugged. Even though the question wasn't a very personal one, you felt vulnerable answering.

"What about you, Chris?" You wondered aloud. "You're looking at it," Chris said with his joint tucked between his lips. He didn't need to explain anything further. You could tell why this was the place he went to sort out his thoughts.

"Alright. What kind of music do you listen to?" You blurted out, not sure of what to ask him next. "Anything, really. But I prefer indie over everything else," he told you. "Okay, play me your favorite song," you told him, gesturing towards his phone he had sitting beside him. He picked it up, staring back at you as he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he responded, scrolling through the saved albums on his phone until he came across AM by Arctic Monkeys. No. 1 Party Anthem started playing through the speaker of his phone, and you nodded in approval as the melody filled the space between you.

"If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you choose?" Chris asked, turning off his phone screen and letting the song play softly in the background of your conversation. You thought about it for a moment. "See, I wanna say Pablo Escobar or something, but I think I'd want to have dinner with one of those druglords who flew under the radar so well that we don't even know their names," you replied. "Damn, ma. That's a good answer," Chris mumbled with the joint hanging from his lips.

He glanced up at you as if silently reminding you it was your turn to ask a question. "What did you think of me when you first met me?" You wondered aloud. You gave him a look like he should be careful about how answered this question. He cracked a smile, remembering the first time you'd approached him and threatened him for selling his weed on your block and trying to steal your customers. "I thought you were tough. Not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I also thought you were super hot," Chris admitted. You blushed, hoping Chris couldn't tell in the glow of the moon.

"What's one thing you don't leave the house without?" Chris asked you, pulling a long drag from his joint. "My keys," you sharply responded, subtly teasing him for having to break into his own place earlier. He let out a laugh. "And my gun," you told him. You sipped on your bubbly drink, noting that the song had changed.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High started to play as you glanced back over at the blue-eyed man beside you. "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?" You asked, peeling the label off your beer bottle. "Nothing," Chris smirked over at you. "Nothing?" You reiterated, furrowing your brow. "Nothing," he repeated. "You're a little cocky, aren't you?" You shot back. "I prefer confident," Chris chuckled before he pulled from the joint again.

"What do you think the most important quality in a friend or partner is?" Chris asked after a few seconds of silence. "Honesty and loyalty," you said without hesitation, and Chris nodded in agreement. "You?" You asked. "Probably just someone who isn't going to bail when things get hard," Chris sincerely responded.

"What's your biggest fear?" You asked him, the questions getting deeper and deeper. "Losing the people I love," he answered, staring down at the build-up of ash on the cherry before flicking it off. "How about you, ma?" He returned the question. "Trusting the wrong person and getting hurt," you responded almost immediately. "I get that," Chris answered, his gaze still fixed on you.

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Chris asked you, his luscious lips curling into a smile as he awaited your response. "Probably those dumb reality shows," you admitted, your cheeks growing warm. "Really? Never took you for a girl who likes trash TV," Chris teasingly nudged your arm. "Daisy loves that shit, too."

"What's one of your guilty pleasures?" You asked Chris. He bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be crossing the line of just playful flirting and venturing into uncharted territory, so he came up with something on the spot.

"Watching the trash TV with her. I'm always making fun of her for watching The Bacholorette and shit like that, but then I find myself watching it with her and getting all invested," Chris confessed.

"I totally get it. Like, I started watching it as a joke at first, and then you get to know the people. Then you start wanting them to end up together," you said, glancing up at him, and his eyes met yours. The song changed again, and you listened as the lyrics came through:

🎶 If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. 🎶

The two of you stared at each other in a comfortable silence for a moment, Chris taking a puff of his weed as you took a swig of beer. "So, what does Daisy think you're out doing all day when you're working?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. "As far as she knows, I work in sales, which isn't totally a lie. She just doesn't know about the drugs," Chris shrugged. "Yeah, she doesn't know about the most important detail," you scoffed, tapping on the glass of your bottle.

"Why are you always judging me for that, ma? I've got my reasons. Why are you so pressed about it?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I had an ex who kept things from me, like how much money he owed certain people. He put me in a lot of dangerous situations. Don't want to watch you do the same shit to Daisy," you murmured, letting Chris in more than you had up until this point. "I didn't know, ma," Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder and relaxing his jaw. "You know, I'd never intentionally hurt her. Or you."

"It doesn't matter, Chris. You can be the most well-intentioned person in the world and still hurt the people around you," you responded. He was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what you said.

"Your ex? Alex?" Chris wondered, blowing out a cloud of smoke against the night sky as he recalled Joe using that name earlier. "Yeah. My dumb fuck ex. He got himself killed because he owed the wrong people money," you said in a dry tone. "Holy shit. Ma, I'm so sorry," Chris whispered. "Don't be. He deserved it," you muttered under your breath.

"Hey, I have a question. Why do you always call me ma?" You chimed in. "It's just a sign of respect. That's all," he shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It's fine. I don't care what you call me. You gotta stop looking at me like that, though. Looking like you're gonna kiss me or some shit," you accused him, following his gaze that danced between your eyes and your lips as you took another drink of your beer. The song changed again.

🎶 How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. 🎶

"I'm not looking at you any type of way! Maybe you're projecting because you wanna kiss me," he shot back. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick, and for a moment, you each thought about it. The temptation was there, and it was strong. You wanted to pull him as close as you could, passionately press your lips against his, and tangle your fingers in his soft, brown hair, but you didn't want to ruin your business relationship with him.

Chris thought the same, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, but he didn't want to screw up what he had with Daisy, and he didn't want to give you the wrong impression. He diverted his eyes, glancing down at his joint that had burned down to the roach, and he put it out. "Get enough of the view, ma? I'm getting kind of tired," Chris chimed in as you admired his profile in the moonlight.

For a moment, you forgot he was talking about the scape of the city from the roof. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. I should probably go," you said, fiddling with the empty bottle in your hand. "You can stay the night if you need to," Chris motioned towards the alcoholic beverage you'd finished off, but he knew he was playing with fire the moment the words left his mouth, inviting you to stay the night.

🎶 Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. 🎶

The two of you exchanged a look like you both knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Even with you both sleeping in separate rooms, you each knew deep down that a closed door wouldn't be enough to deter you two from the temptation. "It's cool, Chris. It was just one beer. I'll just grab a glass of water, sit on your couch for twenty minutes, and I'll be fine to drive," you told him. Chris picked up his phone and paused the song. "I got you, ma. I'll help you down."

You felt elated once you were finally sitting back down on Chris' couch, sobering up. You weren't sure if it was a buzz from the alcohol, an adrenaline rush from being on the roof, or just the way you were starting to feel around Chris.

Chris gave you some crackers to help "absorb the alcohol," because he had "heard somewhere that it does," and even though you'd only had one beer, it was sweet that he cared enough. You also both just knew that you had to sober up, because staying the night wasn't an option unless you were both prepared to give into the force that was pulling the two of you together and end up doing something that could hurt Daisy or hurt your business relationship.

So you were munching away on Ritz crackers on Chris' couch after your single beer, and once you felt like the effects of the alcohol had worn off, you made a comment about how late it was getting and about how you should probably get going.

You left, following the same stepping stones you'd used when you walked up. When you approached your car, you reached into your empty pocket for your keys just to remember you'd left them on Chris' coffee table. "Shit," you whispered, realizing you were going to have to do a walk of shame back up to his front door after giving him shit for forgetting his keys earlier.

Chris had already started to get ready for bed, shedding his layers and slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants when a soft knock sounded at his front door. He peeked through the peephole to make sure it was you, his heart racing and secretly wondering if you'd come back to kiss him or confess your feelings for him, his mind swirling with half a dozen possibilities.

He turned the doorknob, and when you saw him, your eyes were immediately drawn to the fact that he was shirtless. "Uh, sorry. I forgot my keys," you told him, unable to conceal your smile at the irony of the situation. "Oh, you mean, the keys you don't go anywhere without?" Chris asked, leaning against the door frame and indulging in the fact that you were doing nothing to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"Yeah. Those ones," you smirked, biting down on your lip. "I'll go get 'em, ma," Chris chuckled at you as he turned to retrieve your keys. You found yourself holding your breath as your gaze danced over the definition of his back muscles in the soft lighting of his living room.

He handed them to you, and as you took them from him, his hand brushed against yours. You both exchanged a look that was heavy with the words unspoken between you, but you also both silently agreed it was for the best. "Okay, goodnight," you said, unconsciously batting your eyelashes at him. "Goodnight," Chris smirked, eyeing you up and down as you turned to walk away before closing his door again.

As soon as you made it to your car, you reflected on the way you acted and how stupid you must have sounded, silently kicking yourself. You didn't harp on it for long, though. Your embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the intoxication and bliss you felt from being around such an attractive man who was beginning to make you smile more than he made you roll your eyes.

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OFF THE RECORD ⋆✦⋆ gojo satoru

synopsis ➸ you know gojo too well to believe he’s here for a quick fuck. he’s here for a favor—one you have no intention of granting. too bad he’s never been good at taking no for an answer.

tags ➸ implied former student/teacher relationship, slight age gap, friends with benefits, possessive behavior, mild dom/sub themes, power play, manipulation, daddy kink, mild objectification, dirty talking, semi-public/public sex, mention of past sexual encounters, implied blackmail (it’s really not as bad as you think)

wc ➸ 10.9k

The steamy tendrils still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the shower, toweling off with a contented sigh. Mornings like this—quiet, peaceful routines before diving headfirst into the chaotic world of jujutsu—were increasingly rare these days. So you tried to savor each precious moment while it lasted.

With the towel secured around your body, you padded toward the bedroom to get dressed for yet another long day at headquarters. However, the second you stepped over the threshold, the hairs along your nape instantly prickled upright. A presence. An unmistakable shift in the air currents that could only mean—

"Well, good morning, gorgeous! Sleep well?"

You barely stifled the startled yelp as Gojo Satoru's cheerful baritone seemed to resonate from directly behind you. Whirling around, sure enough, there he was—all towering height, shredded muscle, and bright eyes glinting with clear amusement. How someone so powerful could also be so utterly shameless sometimes, you'd never know.

Doing your best to ignore the heat flooding your cheeks, you planted your hands on your hips in a stern facsimile of composure. "Satoru...what an unexpected surprise. Here I thought teachers were supposed to set good examples about respecting boundaries, not traipsing into former students' homes unannounced."

Rather than appear even remotely chagrined, Gojo simply chuckled and leaned back against your kitchen counter as if he owned the place. You watched in mild annoyance as his gaze slowly trailed up and down your towel-clad figure with undisguised appreciation.

"Hey now, no need for such icy formalities between us old friends," he chided, the barest hints of a smirk tugging at those infuriatingly full lips. "Besides, when have I ever cared about doing what's expected of me, hm? That's like...95% of my appeal, babe."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a resigned sigh and crossed the room to your closet, firmly squelching the instincts that urged you to yank the towel higher and more securely over your body. Gojo had seen—and thoroughly enjoyed—far more of you than this in the past. No sense getting flustered over his blazing regard now.

"Right, so does this impromptu visit have an actual purpose?" You shot him a pointed look over your shoulder as you fished out a crisp blouse and trousers to wear to HQ. "Or are you just being a pain as usual and raiding my fridge for a sugar fix again?"

You heard Gojo's low snort of amusement before his heavy footfalls sounded, clearly bringing him closer despite your protestations. "What can I say? Your kitchen is better stocked with sweets than most convenience stores. I can't help craving a little nibble now and then..."

The sultry undercurrent in his tone triggered a fresh blaze of heat along your nape. You could practically feel the smoldering weight of Gojo's stare boring into your ass as you bent to rifle through your bottom dresser drawer.

"But you're onto something with that other theory as well," he continued in a lower, more contemplative register. All traces of levity seemed to evaporate as his presence loomed larger behind you. "I did actually come to ask a favor of my very favorite former pupil. An important one that I wouldn't bother you about if the stakes weren't so high."

Curiosity and trepidation warred within your chest at the unexpected gravity clouding Gojo's usually buoyant candor. You instinctively straightened, clutching your clothes to your chest as you slowly turned to face him once more.

And just like that, the heated tension seemed to ratchet up several palpable notches as your eyes met and held in the claustrophobic space. Gojo's sculptured features had taken on a severe, intense edge—all sharp angles and tightly leashed power that instantly siphoned the breath from your lungs.

Suddenly, his earlier "playful" flirting and teasing manner seemed less like an act and more like a fragile facade barely containing his true tempestuous nature. You swallowed hard against the liquid lick of thrilling trepidation skating down your spine as Gojo maintained that weighty, piercing stare for several moments longer.

"...Is everything okay?" You finally managed in a hushed murmur, scarcely recognizing your own voice under the abrupt spell of Gojo's domineering energy. "What could possibly have you riled up enough to ditch the flippant act?"

Rather than immediately answering, Gojo closed the remaining distance between you with two long, purposeful strides. You had to crane your head back slightly to maintain eye contact as his powerful silhouette utterly consumed your space—the scalding brand of his body heat and crisp, masculine scent enveloping you from all sides.

"Believe me, kitten...if I came here for anything even remotely fun or pleasure-oriented, you wouldn't need to ask," he rumbled at last, voice pitched low enough to instill a full-body shiver along your nerves.

One of Gojo's large hands came up, and you froze as the rough pads of his knuckles grazed a feather-light caress along the line of your jaw. His thumb swiped over the seam of your lower lip in an utterly artless, possessive sweep—smoldering gaze following the motion with incendiary focus.

"I'd already have that smart mouth wrapped around my cock doing something far more useful than talking..."

Despite the crudity of his words, you couldn't quite stifle the punched-out whimper that slipped free at the graphic implication. Gojo's pupils blew fractionally wider in answer, tongue darting out to lave his lower lip as if tasting the charged undercurrents now rippling between you.

"Lucky for you, this is actually about business," he continued in that same resonant timbre that seemed to spark straight between your thighs each time his rich cadence washed over you. "The kind of serious business that even a lazy pervert like me can't afford...distractions for at the moment, got it?"

You managed a jerky nod, too disoriented by the heady spiral of desire cloying at your senses to do much else. Gojo's expression seemed to tighten further—a muscle feathering in his chiseled jaw as if steeling himself for whatever came next as he stepped back a bit.

"Itadori Yuji is scheduled for execution..." The blunt statement punched out like a missile deployment, brutally shredding the increasingly rapacious atmosphere between you. "And one way or another, I need that sentence postponed before it's too late."

You immediately shook your head, mouth set in a grim line. "Postponing Itadori Yuji's execution? That's not going to happen, Satoru."

His brows pinched slightly at your blunt refusal. "This is serious, kitten. That kid is instrumental to—"

"Don't you think I know how serious this is?" you cut him off, firming your voice into an authoritative tone. "I work directly under the higher-ups, remember? I'm well aware of the situation with Sukuna’s vessel and the potential ramifications of his continued existence."

Squaring your shoulders, you leveled Gojo with an unwavering stare. "My answer is final. Bringing this to the elders would be pointless at best, and could potentially jeopardize my position if they see it as insubordination. I'm not sacrificing everything I've worked for just because you showed up and gave me those stupid puppy dog eyes."

Rather than back down, Gojo simply regarded you with a contemplative tilt of his head—bright gaze assessing as if turning over your words from every possible angle. You could practically see the gears turning behind those piercing blue irises as he recalibrated his approach.

"Okay, let's table the business side of things for now," he said at last, tone losing some of its previous urgency. Straightening his body, Gojo prowled a step closer—effectively reclaiming the charged atmosphere from earlier. "Maybe you just need some...persuading to see reason."

You refused to be baited so easily, keeping your expression coolly neutral even as his scalding presence flooded your personal space once more. "I'm not some hormonal teenager letting her heart sway business decisions anymore, Satoru. Those games won't work."

Gojo hummed softly in response, head cocking as his lips curved into a slow, molten smirk. "We'll see about that..."

Without warning, his hands clamped down on your hips, thumbs digging in with delicious friction as he hauled you flush against the solid wall of his torso. You couldn't withhold the tiny gasp that punched free at the sudden, searing contact—every ridge and cording muscle of Gojo's powerful physique branding itself against your towel-clad frame.

"Does this position feel...familiar to you at all, gorgeous?" he murmured in a honeyed rasp right against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed a path along your jaw as he dipped to mouth steamy, lingering kisses down the fragrant column of your throat. "Maybe sparks a few memories of the last time you found yourself pinned underneath me...crying out for more the whole night through?"

A shudder rippled down your spine at the crude allusion to your long-ago graduation celebration with Gojo. You remembered that encounter vividly—every slick rasp of skin against skin, the sweltering tangle of limbs, the exquisite ache of being split open on his thick cock over and over until the entire room reeked of your joined passion.

Gojo merely chuckled at your flustered squirming, nosing aside the collar of your towel to lave a heated path along your collarbone. "Mmm...that's right. There were points that night where I had my cock buried so fuckin' deep in this perfect pussy of yours that you could taste it on the back of your tongue with every breath."

You bit back a shuddering whimper at the crude imagery, willpower rapidly crumbling beneath his carnal onslaught. Despite your best efforts, the memories he so skillfully stoked were stoking liquid tendrils of arousal thrumming to life between your thighs. Gojo's grin stretched wider as you unconsciously arched into his scorching frame.

"Always did love ruining you on my dick that first time," he rumbled with blatant gratification against your heated skin. "Watching those gorgeous eyes glaze over while I split you open again and again until you passed out..."

Abruptly, Gojo detached his mouth from the thundering pulse at your jugular with one final lingering sweep of his sinful tongue. Smirking down at your glazed, panting expression, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But hey...while fun memories are nice, I'd rather make some new ones together after work," he said, suddenly all casual nonchalance once more as he meandered towards the door. "I'll pick you up from HQ when your shift is over and we can...discuss this Itadori thing some more in private. That sound good to you, babe?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to reassemble your scattered thoughts as the searing proximity of Gojo's presence withdrew—leaving you bereft and utterly unbalanced by the shift.

"Don't worry your pretty head over giving me an answer," Gojo called over his shoulder as he palmed the doorknob. "I already know you'll say yes when I remind you again how much that tight little pussy loves being split open on my—"

The door snapped shut with a hollow thud, cutting off the rest of his filthy promise. Though the last rakish wink he slanted your way before departing was more than enough to sear the implication deep into your psyche.

Sinking heavily back against the wall, you fought to regain your equilibrium—limbs quaking and breath escaping in ragged pants that did nothing to dissuade the rising tide of feverish arousal still gripping your core. Gojo had utterly unraveled you into a breathless, squirming mess from just a few suggestive caresses and searing endearments.

And despite your best efforts, you got the gnawing suspicion he'd made up his mind to thoroughly capitalize on—and ruthlessly extend—that molten state when you inevitably saw him again tonight.

The long hours crept by at an agonizing pace as you tried to focus on your duties at headquarters. But the memory of Gojo's heated presence that morning, his crude allusions to your long-ago passionate tryst, made it utterly impossible to concentrate.

You vividly recalled the way his powerful frame had caged you against the wall, face nuzzling along your flushed throat as that rich, smoky timbre painted filthy promises about thoroughly splitting you open again soon. Just the phantom whisper of Gojo's searing lips tracing your thundering pulse was enough to catalyze wild tremors of molten arousal deep in your core.

Each time you shifted in your seat or bent over the piles of paperwork, you could've sworn a delirious ache throbbed between your thighs—muscles fluttering with unbearable emptiness. Like they instinctively yearned to be stretched taut around the thick, punishing girth of Gojo's cock once more, just like that rapturous night of your graduation celebration.

The explicit images and flashes of sensation made concentrating an exercise in futility. Only your rigid adherence to professionalism and composure prevented you from squirming like an utter harlot right there in front of your subordinates.

By the time the evening hours finally rolled around, you felt strung as taut as a high wire—electrified nerves screaming for any sort of reprieve from Gojo's lingering psychic imprint. So you hastily packed your bags and paperwork, determined to slip out before he had a chance to accost you again.

However, the second you passed through the main entrance gates, a powerful hand shot out to clamp around your bicep in an authoritative grip. You barely contained the strangled gasp as Gojo's sheer masculine presence enveloped you, dragging you into the shadowed seclusion of a nearby alcove.

The cool stone bit into your back as he firmly levered your wrists overhead, utterly pinning you in place with his hulking silhouette. Gojo's piercing blue eyes glinted in the dim light, scorching a path down your disheveled figure with undisguised intent.

"Leaving so soon?" The deep, resonant timbre of his voice washed over you in smoky tendrils, already catalyzing a fresh blaze of arousal in your veins. "And here I was looking forward to picking up where we left off earlier..."

To emphasize his point, Gojo surged forward until every inch of his powerful frame molded against yours in a delicious, searing brand. You whimpered softly as his weight pinned you fully, feeling the unmistakable rigid line of his erection notching against your lower belly.

Gojo ducked his head with a low rumble of approval, searing lips and tongue mapping a scorching path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. You instinctively tilted your head aside to grant him better access, shuddering helplessly as he indulged in long, openmouthed draughts of your scent and flushed skin.

"F-Fuck...Satoru, not here!" The words emerged in a reedy, breathless whine against your better judgment as his wicked mouth found that sensitive bundle of nerves just below your ear. You writhed beneath the slow torment with increasing desperation. "Anyone could catch us...this is crazy!"

Rather than immediately address your token protests, Gojo merely chuckled—the warm puffs of his amusement ghosting deliciously along your tingling nerves as he mouthed a stinging graze against your racing pulse. One of his large, calloused palms slid down to engulf your hip in a possessive squeeze, already kneading and grinding you in a slow simmer of friction.

"You say that like you've never been desperate enough to beg me to fuck you right here in these hallways before..." The low, sensually-charged growl shivered your bones down to the marrow. Gojo finally pulled back enough to cage your dazed features fully within his piercing stare—lips curved in a lascivious smirk of fond reminiscence. "Multiple times, if I'm recalling correctly."

Heat flared through your cheeks as the graphic imagery took shape against your fraying resistance—lurid memories of breathless encounters where the thrill of potentially being caught by patrolling sentries only fueled the delirious flames higher. You swallowed hard against the thickness now cloying your throat, squirming in feeble denial.

Gojo's smirk deepened into something utterly sinful as he drank in your expression with clear relish. "Do you need me to refresh your memory about the last time you had me backed into a supply closet?" he rasped, leaning in until the blistering brand of his body seared you from chest to hip once more. "How hard you came when I finally pulled those thighs apart and licked straight through your soaked—"

"Enough!" you gasped out before he could fully unleash the damning words. You renewed your efforts at wriggling free in earnest, well aware your weakening restraint wouldn't last against Gojo's relentless carnal onslaught. "I-I...maybe we should actually go somewhere more appropriate first. Dinner, maybe?"

Despite your sudden meek suggestion, you couldn't quite mask the desperation laced through the plaintive request. Gojo's eyes seemed to glitter brighter at the shift in your demeanor, clearly scenting weakness in the offing as he allowed his grip to relax somewhat.

"Dinner first, huh?" He pursed those full lips into an exaggerated pout of contemplation before relenting with a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose that's only fair since I'm the one working up an appetite here..."

With one last blistering look that robbed you of breath entirely, Gojo stepped back and pivoted on his heel to swagger away down the narrow thoroughfare like a man supremely assured of victory. You could only sag back against the alcove wall, chest heaving with exertion as the towering remnants of arousal slowly ebbed.

However, there remained little doubt in your overwrought psyche that this temporary reprieve from your joining was little more than the universe's taunting cruelty. You'd awoken Gojo's darkest, most lascivious appetites earlier that morning.

And if the way he slanted one final look over his powerful shoulder—bright irises already blown wide and jaw clenching subtly around what had to be punishing levels of restraint—then the true feasting was only just about to begin in earnest. With your achingly empty body as the main course.

The opulent restaurant oozed sophistication from every polished surface and perfectly-starched linen. The sommelier's formal bow and crisp recitation of the evening's premier wine offerings seemed utterly wasted on the two of you.

You eyed Gojo over the rim of your glass, the dry Cabernet doing little to dull the lingering tension still thrumming between your joined frames. As always, he looked utterly nonplussed about the lavish indulgences surrounding you—crisp white dress shirt straining across his muscular torso and sharp jawline rasped by the beginnings of late evening stubble. Like a predator eternally at ease, regardless of situation.

Gojo's piercing gaze roamed over you with the same slow, assessing intensity one might reserve for an exquisite delicacy awaiting consumption. You tried not to squirm under that molten scrutiny, clearing your throat pointedly.

"I'm assuming there was some purpose behind corralling me into this place," you remarked in your best professional tone. "Beyond getting me liquored up for some inappropriate table exhibition, that is."

Rather than rebuff your dig, Gojo simply angled his head in a catlike tilt—lips curling into a devilish smirk that telegraphed his carnal interest crystal clear. Leaning further back in his chair, he allowed one broad palm to splay suggestively over the crisp linen covering his lap, fingertips drumming out an idle staccato.

"Well now, I certainly wouldn't say no to having those gorgeous lips wrapped around something else for a change." His deep timbre emerged laced with sin and smoky insinuation. "You always did look like an utter vision stuffed under these fancy tabletops sucking me off..."

Heat blossomed across your cheeks despite your best efforts at composure. You knocked back another bracing swallow of wine, struggling not to dwell on the searing flashes his words evoked—memories of delirious encounters where Gojo had hauled you under secluded tables to properly appreciate your skills with relentless, undisguised gratification.

Swallowing thickly, you gripped your fork with slightly more force than necessary."I'd ask if you're always this disgracefully crass and lascivious in public these days...but then I remembered who I'm talking to," you said dryly. "So in the interest of not causing a scene, why don't we get to the point of this little ambush?"

One brow arched infinitesimally as Gojo cocked his head further, clearly drinking in your prim and vaguely irritated state with evident relish. "You seem awfully anxious to rush right to business," he murmured, fingertips continuing their idle rhythm against the tablecloth. "Where's that simmering self-restraint and haughty composure I remember enjoying unraveling piece...by...delicious...piece so thoroughly back in the day?"

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, only for Gojo to cut you off with a low, lush rumble. "Unless you've simply decided being insatiably thirsty for this cock is more your speed these days..."

With that quiet taunt, his free hand disappeared beneath the pristine linen swathe in a heavy, meaningful descent. You swallowed convulsively as his fingertips slid along the unmistakable ridge of his thick cock straining against the unforgiving fabric of his slacks. Every knuckle undulated in a deliberate, stroking glide that tightened your throat like a vise around trapped breaths and unspoken pleas.

"Can practically already taste how soaked you're getting beneath those prim layers just from the thought alone..." Gojo continued in a molten rasp heavy with undisguised gratification. "Imagining that filthy little mouth stretched wide around my girth again, glazing yourself in my cum right here in front of god and all these polite company..."

A tiny, reedy sound slipped unbidden from your constricted chest despite your best efforts at locking it down. Gojo's lascivious smirk turned rapacious as he correctly scented the spike of liquid want now cloying the humid space between you.

"So what do you say, gorgeous?" He pitched his timbre slightly lower, allowing each gravelled syllable to curl around your senses with lashes of pure elemental sin. "Going to be a good little famished cocksleeve and give me a hand under the table before we get down to—"

You cut across his brazen soliloquy with a forceful rap of your fork against the tabletop. Pulling yourself together, you fixed Gojo with a severe glower that finally seemed to give him pause.

"If you can't conduct yourself with any semblance of decorum befitting your station, then I'm through entertaining these adolescent displays," you bit out in a hushed tone edged with adamant warning. "I'm not some wide-eyed underling fresh off the training fields anymore, Satoru. I have higher standing and responsibility than you seem to grasp."

Silence stretched between you for a weighted beat—Gojo's heated gaze flickering over you with renewed focus you couldn't quite decipher. When he finally spoke again, there was a note of uncharacteristic control underpinning his typically buoyant candor. Clearly, he'd grasped the need to change tactics once more.

"You're absolutely right," he said after a prolonged pause. "Part of me forgets just how much you've grown and ascended the ranks over the years." One side of his mouth curved higher in a lopsided ghost of his usual smirk. "Clearly earned the elders' respect and esteem far beyond that of a simple 'secretary' as I put it earlier."

Before you could retort, Gojo pressed onwards—hand sliding almost absently back into view to wrap around the stem of his wine flute. "Which is exactly why your assistance is pivotal to turning the tide regarding Yuji's current...perilous circumstances."

There was a grim finality in his words that snapped you back to the seriousness of the moment like a sobering slap to the face. You shifted fractionally taller in your seat, expression hardening as Gojo continued in low, adamant tones.

"Whether you're fully aware or care to admit it right now, that kid is destined to be pivotal for the upcoming events on the horizon," he rumbled with quiet conviction. "Leaving him to get executed off the books tomorrow morning would be tantamount to losing our most powerful asset before the real battles even begin."

Swirling his wine idly, Gojo paused to take an unhurried pull directly from the bottle before continuing. "Which is why I'm going to need to call in more than a few favors getting his sentence postponed tonight. Starting with you, of course..."

There was a new current of steely focus glinting in his gaze as it bored into you with ruthless intensity. For several protracted beats, you simply held each other's stares—gauging the lengths and motivations rumbling beneath the surface beyond petty physical exploits.

Finally, you pursed your lips and shook your head in a solemn negation. "I'm sorry, but I can't overstep protocol and abuse my influence with the elders like that," you stated, quietly adamant. "Not even for you, Satoru. The ramifications could unravel everything I've worked decades to attain if word got out I went rogue."

Rather than exploding in his usual flashes of arrogance or wounded pride, Gojo merely raked you with a glower of narrowed, simmering intent. His next words emerged more pointed and resonating than any innuendo or filthy endearment preceding it.

"Are you sure about that stance?" he intoned darkly. "Because if memory serves, there are a few distinct...indiscretions we've engaged in that could certainly be construed as 'unraveling' by the elders' view, wouldn't you agree?"

The waiter's polished footsteps faded as he departed to fetch their entrees, leaving you and Gojo in a weighted silence. You could practically taste the undercurrent of tension simmering in the air between you both.

Sipping his wine slowly, Gojo dragged his incandescent stare over your features with undisguised intensity. "I'm serious about this," he stated in a low, firm rumble that brooked no further evasion. "We're talking everything from inappropriate use of jujutsu techniques to conduct we both know crosses so many lines..."

He trailed off meaningfully, leaving the implications to hang heavy as his tongue slicked over his lower lip. You swallowed hard against the rising heat prickling across your cheeks and neck.

"Like that night in the east gardens behind the training halls," Gojo continued, voice dropping into a deeper, more intimate register that curled straight between your thighs. "Where I pinned you down in the grass and ate you out until you came all over my face. And then I fucked you so hard, you nearly passed out before we got caught."

Despite yourself, a tremulous shiver raked through your nerves as the visceral flashes assaulted your mind's eye—the frantic rasp of his calloused palms roaming and kneading, the slick motions of his tongue probing and savoring parts of you meant for far more intimate settings.

Gojo noticed your reaction with a dark chuckle, clearly satisfied he'd reeled you back in completely. "Or what about the time you wrapped those pretty lips around my cock in the maintenance closet and let me rail your throat until you choked on my load? How many rules was just that one encounter bending, hm?"

The directness of his words scorched through you with dizzying potency, making you flush and squirm. You parted your lips on a shaky exhale, determined to regain some semblance of control.

But Gojo smirked knowingly and pressed his verbal advantage in a low, filthy rumble. "Face it, I've got enough material on you ruining me with that greedy little mouth and pussy all over campus to get you defrocked hard." His hooded azure gaze practically seared into your core. "And yet you really wanna risk me airing all those dirty details to the elders? Leaving Itadori's fate to chance like that?"

Your mouth felt suddenly dry as you wrestled with the undeniable truth behind his taunting words. For several fraught beats, the frustration and righteous indignation warred with your embedded sense of duty to the cause. Finally, you released a shuddery breath and lifted your chin.

"I'll...see what I can do about swaying things in your favor," you muttered in a low, slightly strained tone. "No promises, but I'll try discussing options with the higher-ups."

Rather than seem appeased, Gojo's expression only hardened further—carved features settling into a granite mask of tenacious stubbornness and smoldering impatience. "'Not good enough, kitten," he rumbled, forearms tensing atop the table. "This mission is too fucking important for halfhearted measures. I need you to outright insist on a stay of execution being granted, got it? No more stammering 'I'll try' bullshit that lets them sidestep."

His unyielding stare pinned you with the intensity of a physical force, raising your hackles slightly despite your attempt at diplomacy. Still, looking into those blazing blue embers, you got the distinct impression that you'd sooner achieve moving a mountain with vocal commands than sway Gojo on this matter. That steely resolve would accept nothing less than complete victory in postponing Itadori's fate.

Just as you began resigning yourself to digging in for another round of heated back-and-forth across the fancy tablecloth, the arrival of the main courses mercifully broke the combative spell between you. Gojo seemed to settle back imperceptibly as the waiter swept in—that scorching intensity banking down to a more companionable smolder for the time being.

Still, you recognized the temporary reprieve for what it was as you tucked into your meal with far less gusto than anticipated. Despite his best efforts to gloss over the previous tension with idle banter and lighter conversational tones, it remained silently understood that the evening's main purpose still hung unresolved and delicate between you until matters were final.

So it was with an undercurrent of somber expectation that you finally settled the check and rose to follow Gojo from the opulent dining hall at evening's end. A subtle snap of his fingers triggered a curiously disorienting sensation of compression and vertigo—only to release you blinking in surprise mere heartbeats later, finding yourself suddenly standing in the familiar living quarters you called home.

"I'd say you're handling that little trick with far more aplomb these days," Gojo remarked with a lopsided grin, clearly drinking in your adjustment to his impromptu teleportation with amusement. "Remember when I first started zipping you around like that? Pretty sure you heaved your guts all over those ugly penny loafers you used to wear back in the day."

Huffing out a noise of semi-fond exasperation, you aimed a swat at his sculpted arm without malice. "Yes, well I suppose youth and naivety breed certain...overzealous behaviors, don't they?" you retorted before immediately sobering once more. "Like making reckless judgment calls that imperil an entire system..."

Gojo's expression remained impassive, giving no outward indication whether your choice of words struck any particular chord with him. However, you caught the faintest glimmer flickering behind those incandescent blue irises - the barest hint that perhaps you'd underestimated just how much gravitas your dissenting opinion potentially held with the higher-ups.

After all, you were Gojo Satoru's first and most distinguished pupil back when he initially ascended to teaching status, weren't you? Not only that, but your judicious control and prime mastery of your innate techniques embodied many of the fundamental philosophies and fighting styles the old guard so staunchly valued. On numerous occasions, your skills had been cited as quintessential examples to uphold for future generations...

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard as the weighty truth of your potential sway with leadership gradually bobbed to the surface of your consciousness like drift debris after a storm. This entire evening, Gojo might have simply been maneuvering to forcibly realign your perspective on leveraging the hidden influence you apparently wielded without ever fully grasping it.

To truly comprehend the magnitude of the gambit he intended to play using your standing as the key gambit.

Before you could properly parse that sobering epiphany, however, Gojo had already closed what little distance remained between your frames with purposeful strides. The blistering heat of his body all but blanketed yours as he leaned in with that familiar aura of prowling, casual intensity that always made your breath stall.

"So..." he murmured, voice pitching into a lower register that seemed to slither straight down your spine. "Does that mean you're gonna be a good girl and invite me inside so we can continue this intriguing conversation in more...comfortable accommodations?"

Gojo punctuated the brazen implication by cocking one arm against the doorframe, effectively caging you between the cool wood and the searing, masculine planes of his torso and hips. You were abruptly overwhelmed by the reality of his proximity - each subtly shifting ripple of sinew and musculature utterly inescapable from this range.

That distinctly virile, elemental musk that always set your senses clamoring was back in full force as well. You swallowed hard, nostrils flaring fractionally as the delirious essence of Gojo's body heat and clean, faintly spiced perspiration flooded your olfactory receptors. Despite your most ardent efforts, you felt your lids grow heavy and mouth part unconsciously as liquid frissons of pure, burgeoning temptation licked through your veins.

Just like that, with a few deftly aimed strokes, Gojo had reeled you back to the precipice of helpless surrender once more. Still, you summoned the dregs of your stern resolve and planted your palms squarely against his chest, levering back an inch to preserve some semblance of boundaries.

"Subtle as ever, I see," you managed in a tone you hoped came across more dryly exasperated than outright breathless. "I should've guessed the moment we arrived you'd be angling to make yourself at home uninvited."

One brow arched higher, though you didn't miss the slight crinkling at the corners of Gojo's stupidly pretty eyes betraying his hushed amusement. "Oof, someone has their defenses wound just a tad tightly if they think I require permission these days," he shot back with a wry rumble.

Before you could summon a retort, that leonine physique surged forward in a slow, sensual undulation—once again pinning you fully against the unyielding wooden slab with the scorching brand of his larger frame. Gojo's free hand drifted down to palm the generous curve of your hip with sinful insistence, hips canting forward until there could be no mistaking the ridge of his erection notching against your lower belly.

"Better question might be..." His voice dropped several delirious octaves into those sandpaper-rough timbres that seemed to sizzle straight through your nerve endings. "Why even bother pretending at token protests when we both know how this little dance is gonna end...?"

Those incandescent azure irises flickered down to where his fingertips were already stroking teasing swirls against the exposed strip of skin between your top and waistband, silently daring you to rebuff such an implicit capitulation.

"So why delay the inevitable any longer, gorgeous?" Gojo rumbled against your lips, voice dropping into that gravelly timbre designed to liquefy your restraint. "Let's get down to stripping off all these formalities once and for—"

"You haven't even kissed me yet today," you blurted out, cutting across his heated soliloquy.

Gojo's pale brows pinched infinitesimally as the words seemed to momentarily stall his single-minded determination. You could practically see the gears turning behind those hooded azure irises as he processed your statement—likely running back through every provocative encounter and instance of attempted seduction throughout the evening.

When his piercing stare finally snapped back to yours, there was the faintest glimmer of sheepish realization burning there. "...Huh. You're right," he remarked in a slightly lower, more subdued tone. "Here I've been working overtime to rile you up, and I haven't even had the balls to properly lay one on you yet."

You tried not to visibly preen under the gratifying acknowledgment, but couldn't quite suppress the tiny quirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. Sensing a rare window of opportunity, you shifted your weight more fully against the solid contours of Gojo's frame, allowing your fingers to trail upwards in delicate spirals.

"Well?" You arched one brow in playful challenge, throat bobbing on a swallow as your digits mapped higher along the tendons of his powerful neck. "Are you going to actually follow through, or am I going to have to take the initiative here?"

For one heated beat, Gojo simply held your pointed stare in taut suspension—the atmosphere between you both seeming to atomize down into charged ionization particles awaiting the slightest catalyst to detonate. Then, his lips curved higher in a lopsided smirk you'd come to recognize as pure, unrepentant recklessness sublimating into physical form.

"You're going to have to come and get it, gorgeous," he rumbled, the raspy undercurrents sending delicious frissons shivering along your nerves. "Show me just how badly you've been starving for a real taste all evening."

His dexterous fingers slid up to cup the line of your jaw, thumb sweeping suggestively across your lower lip in a searing caress. You struggled not to whimper at the electrifying friction as Gojo leaned further into your personal space.

However, rather than ducking his head the final few scant inches to seal his mouth hungrily over yours, the insufferable tease merely arched backward—body undulating in a slow, sinuous retreat until he towered over you at his full impressive stature. The tip of his tongue darted out to lave his lower lip in clear relish, eyes glinting with wicked invitation as he silently dared you to make good on rising to his heated gauntlet.

A thrill of excitement and determination lanced through your chest as you instantly grasped the game afoot. With purposeful, unhurried movements, you allowed your palms to splay across the granite warmth of his abdomen before slowly, teasingly tracking higher in a worshiping glide. Every rippling corde and sinewy groove of his musculature became briefly profiled as you glided your touch upwards - mapping the scorching acreage in ardent appreciation.

Gojo watched your journey with blown pupils and ragged breaths, torso visibly expanding with each shuddering inhalation he dragged against his impressive restraint. You didn't miss the flex and bunching of his arms and shoulders as you passed over his pectorals, clearly fighting not to haul you bodily against him right then and simply crush your pliant frames back into mutual rapture.

But still, he remained steadfast and motionless—a living marble statue gloriously chiseled from pure virile perfection, awaiting your reverent indulgences with a banked smolder burning behind his hooded stare.

Finally, your fingertips dusted across the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, body arching and straining upwards in your single-minded pursuit of that elusive, smug mouth you craved with mounting desperation. Try as you might to extend yourself onto the balls of your feet and go fully up on tiptoes, Gojo maintained a scant whisper of distance—always hovering just out of your reach with an expression of blatant masculine gratification at your squirming efforts.

A huff of breathy frustration nearly slipped free at the persistent denial, only to be silenced by the way Gojo instinctively dipped lower as if to grant your wish...only to arc back with a low, filthy chuckle that reverberated against your now-thundering pulse. It was as much a sensual dance of control and restraint as a taunt or test of wills at this juncture—simply savoring the delirious friction generated as your pliant, questing form sought to twine and pull him down into decadent oblivion, inch by maddening inch.

"Easy there, kitten..." he rasped in a low, smoky cadence designed to further short-circuit your resolve. "Why don't you try dropping to those pretty knees for me? Might give you better leverage and angles to play with in reaching those tempting lips that have been tormenting that insatiable appetite of yours..."

You answered with a full-body shudder and a needy keen spilling free from your very marrow—all thoughts of recalcitrance and willpower now thoroughly banished beneath the inescapable gravity well of Gojo's hypnotic presence and unholy temptations.

You whined out loud, an unguarded noise of pure pleading desire that seemed to momentarily crack through your usually reserved demeanor. "Satoru...please, wanna kiss you so badly."

The raw, plaintive tone of your entreaty hung in the air between you, heavy with naked yearning in a way that gave even Gojo pause. His brilliant eyes seemed to smolder brighter for an instant, no doubt dredging up fond recollections of past occasions where he'd so thoroughly unraveled your ironclad poise and reduced you to this state.

Rather than pounce on your vulnerability or tease further, however, Gojo's expression softened ever so slightly. One broad palm cradled the back of your skull as he ducked in closer, guiding your trembling frame until your brows nearly brushed.

"Since you asked so nicely..." he murmured, deep timbre emerging somewhere between a graveled purr and heated rumble.

You barely managed a shuddering inhalation before Gojo sealed his mouth over yours in a searing brand of possession. The initial clash of lips and tongue was something closer to an elemental force than a mere intimate exchange—not at all gentle, but rife with pent-up longing and ravenous need finally given free rein.

Your fingers instinctively knotted in the soft fabric of his shirt as Gojo laid an utterly thorough claim upon your senses. He swallowed each desperate little noise and whimper that punched free as if savoring the most delectable of delicacies. One thick forearm banded around your lower back to anchor you fully against his solid frame as he deepened the devouring cadence with relentless intensity.

A husky growl of clear approval and gratification rumbled against your slick, swollen mouth as Gojo momentarily allowed a scant parting for air. "Fuck...I'd almost forgotten how greedy and eager this talented little tongue can get," he grated with clear relish.

You could only pant and squirm fitfully in answer, thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Gojo simply chuckled richly—the timbre vibrating straight through your very cells in a way that somehow untethered your feet from the ground entirely.

The next thing you clearly registered were his powerful arms banding beneath the backs of your thighs to haul you securely against his body in one smooth, easy motion. Your startled yelp melted into a tremulous sigh as the bunching plains of his torso and abdomen braced your arched spine in a sublime full-body embrace.

"Don't go passing out on me before the real fun starts," Gojo husked against the thundering pulse at your nape, even as his long strides carried you across the threshold of your apartment. "I've got plans for putting that gifted mouth to far better uses than just kissing..."

With your legs now locked around his narrow hips, you could feel every delicious ridge and twitch of his growing erection grinding against your dampening heat through the flimsy barriers separating you. A piteous whine slipped free as the swaying rhythm of his determined gait threatened to unravel you down to your very foundation.

"That's it, let me hear just how desperate I've got you aching to taste me properly again," Gojo growled against the whorl of your ear, each guttural rasp sparking fresh convulsions of need between your thighs. "Been waiting all fucking day to unwrap this gorgeous little prize and savor you inch...by...inch."

Gojo punctuated the lascivious promise by swiveling to carefully lay you out amidst the rumpled linens and cushions—each flickering shadow casting his chiseled features into harsh relief. No more levity or evasion glossed his expression, only the stark severity and zero-compromises focus of a predator fully engaged.

Rather than pounce on you immediately, however, Gojo seemed to pause and simply drink in the sight of your breathless, disheveled state with smoldering intent. His bright eyes roamed over every inch of your upturned features and the generous curves left tantalizingly displayed by your askew clothing.

"Goddamn..." he rumbled in a deep timbre thick with undisguised yearning. "Look at you splayed out for me, practically begging to get worked over already."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the pure masculine intensity blazing in his stare. There was an undercurrent of restrained hunger there that made your pulse thunder—heady and distinctly feral even as Gojo slowly prowled over your prone body.

Rather than immediately claim you in a reckless flurry of lust, his calloused palms mapped your sides in a languid, purposeful glide all the way up to your rib cage. You arched instinctively into his maddening caresses, whimpering softly in anticipation.

"Easy there, baby..." Gojo murmured in a low rasp against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed along the thrumming tendons of your neck, clearly savoring the scent of your desire. "You act like it's been months since this pretty pussy has been spread out and stuffed full. And after all the time I spent working you into this gorgeous, wrecked state..."

You squirmed fitfully beneath his unyielding weight, needy whines spilling past your parted lips as Gojo continued leisurely nuzzling and nipping along your jawline and throat. Despite the unhurried leisure of his attentions, you were rapidly spiraling into molten delirium between his hoarse endearments and the tantalizing friction where your bodies met.

"What, so impatient you can't even let me take a second to savor this?" Gojo husked out in a gravel-rough rasp that made you shiver. "I had to spend all damn day thinking about bending you over the second we were alone...so you'll excuse me if I take things slow now that I've got you all wound up and drenched for it."

Emphasizing his point, Gojo slotted one thick, muscular thigh between your parted legs, rocking forward in a slow grind that dragged the solid length of his cock against your molten entrance through the thin barrier separating you. You cried out sharply at the delicious friction, back bowing as frantic nails scoured tracks down his flexing shoulder blades in desperation.

"Yeah...that's it, squirm and moan for me like a good girl," Gojo growled in clear approval, tongue laving a wet path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. "Keep making those filthy sounds and just MAYBE I'll finally give you what you've been gagging for all night."

You could only whimper raggedly in compliance as his mouth moved lower, searing a path from collarbone to the generous swell of your breasts. His large hands cradled and kneaded the soft flesh with relish before tugging the stretchy fabric aside to bare one nipple to the calloused heat of his lips and tongue.

"That's right...let Daddy get his fill and reacquaint himself with every lush goddamn inch," Gojo growled around the rosy peak, sending lightning bolts of sensation zinging straight to your molten core. "Been thinking about sucking and biting these perfect tits all over again ever since you walked into that restaurant looking like a goddamn meal..."

Despite his crude admission, there was an undercurrent of clear reverence and tender devotion laced through his ragged cadences now. Gojo laved and nuzzled at your breasts with all the ardent indulgence of a penitent savoring their last meal before execution. His hooded azure gaze seemed to blaze brighter with each piteous keen and arch you offered up in answer to his lavishing.

Just as you felt yourself ascending the spiraling crescendo toward mindless bliss under his skilled attentions, Gojo abruptly detached from your saturated nipple with a low noise of harsh restraint. You whined plaintively, eyes glassy as your hands reflexively fisted in the front of his shirt—silently pleading for him to resume lapping away at the fiery deprivation swiftly devouring you inside out.

"Easy, baby..." he rasped through gritted teeth, clearly suppressing his own spiraling ardor through sheer force of iron will. "I didn't wait this long to absolutely wreck you just to blow it all on some half-assed foreplay."

Slanting his mouth over yours in another scorching, possessive claim, Gojo cradled your overwrought features between those rough, calloused palms with surprising tenderness.

His thumb smoothed along your cheekbone as the kiss gradually shifted into a slow, sensual undulation.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against the seam of your lips. "Let Daddy hear you ask for it nice and loud."

The command emerged as a gravelly whisper, though his blazing stare held an unmistakable glint of command. Still, the blatant carnal hunger etched into his expression made you feel positively giddy and invincible as your fingertips trailed along the corded lines of his powerful throat.

"I want you inside me, Sensei," you pleaded, voice pitching into a breathy whine. "Please, I need to feel you filling me up again."

Gojo groaned, clearly relishing the shameless admission and the way your thighs clenched reflexively around his hips. You could feel the rigid contours of his cock twitching eagerly against your slickened folds through the layers separating you.

"Fuck, the mouth on you," he rasped, nipping lightly at the underside of your jaw. "You know what it does to me when you call me that."

"Good," you purred, allowing your fingers to trail higher until they carded through the silky soft strands of his hair. "Now, are you going to stop stalling and show me how much better you are at playing teacher in bed?"

Your bold retort earned a snarl of pure male approval, though the sound quickly tapered into a groan as you deliberately canted your hips to drag the seeping damp of your panties against his throbbing erection. Gojo's fingers instinctively curled tighter around your neck, pinning you into place as he bucked and rolled his pelvis forward to reciprocate the delicious friction.

"Alright then, smartass..." he rasped, pupils blown nearly black with ravenous need as he stared down at your upturned, flushed face. "If that's how you wanna play it, I'm gonna make damn sure you're thoroughly re-educated on who exactly holds the reins here."

Without further ado, his hands drifted down to tug insistently at your waistband, practically shredding the flimsy fabric in his haste to free you from the rest of your clothing. You shivered at the way the cool evening air instantly pebbled across your newly exposed skin, though any instinctive modesty was quickly chased away by the hungry stare drinking in your naked form.

Gojo's expression shifted into a predatory leer, the sight sending another jolt of electric anticipation shooting through your already-jangling nerve endings. "That's better," he rumbled, broad palm skating a path up your inner thigh with unhurried reverence. "Nothing should be allowed to hide such a perfect view of my favorite fucking dessert."

You bit back a whimper at the possessive timbres lacing his gravel-rough voice, thighs twitching restlessly as Gojo's touch continued mapping higher. Finally, his questing fingertips slid into the sticky slick coating your swollen folds, dragging the copious evidence of your desire back to where your clit throbbed with need.

"Oh, look at that..." Gojo practically cooed, the filthy delight and awe laced through his voice sending a fresh rush of warmth spilling out against his dexterous ministrations. "Daddy's been neglecting his baby girl, and she's absolutely soaking wet already. How long has my gorgeous kitten been aching like this, hmm?"

The words emerged somewhere between a teasing croon and a gravelly growl, and you could only shudder and keen as Gojo continued rubbing maddening circles over your hypersensitive bud. The friction was already pushing you rapidly to the edge, and judging by the way Gojo's hooded gaze flickered up to watch your rapture, he could tell as much.

"Ah-ah...no cumming until you beg Daddy to fuck you properly," he rasped, even as his index and ring fingers dipped shallowly into your fluttering channel—teasing and stretching the seeping velvet heat in a way that made you sob out loud. "Don't make me have to punish you for being so naughty, kitten. You know I can keep you on the edge all night if I need to."

Your spine bowed and back arched as you writhed and thrashed beneath his touch, a litany of breathy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. "Please, please, Daddy, don't tease me," you begged shamelessly, the words nearly slurring together with raw need. "I'll be a good girl, I swear. Please, please just fuck me..."

Gojo's gaze sharpened with clear gratification as you entreated his mercy, and he finally eased off on the merciless friction between your thighs. Your lungs burned with the force of gulping down ragged lungfuls of air, but you were given scant reprieve before his hands gripped and lifted your thighs, effortlessly hauling you closer and spreading them wide.

"There's my good girl," he murmured, the raw timbre of his voice sending delicious frissons shivering across your fever-warm skin. "Such a sweet little angel when you finally submit."

With one more brief nip at the delicate flesh of your inner thigh, Gojo began working the fly of his trousers open, finally freeing his massive erection. He stroked and pumped his straining shaft a few times for good measure, eyes raking across your splayed, naked form with clear relish.

"Look at how pretty this tight little pussy is, dripping all over my fingers and cock just begging to get filled," he grunted, lining the bulbous crown against your quivering entrance and rubbing it back and forth through the sticky arousal saturating your folds.

A pitiful keen slipped past your parted lips at the taunting pressure, and you could feel a fresh gush of slickness welling up in response to his crass praise. Gojo smirked at the telltale reaction, one calloused palm sliding down to part the plush folds of your pussy even further.

"Goddamn, look how wet and greedy this is for me," he rumbled in a low tone thick with pure male satisfaction. "Bet you were fantasizing about having Daddy's cock stuffing this pretty cunt the whole time we were sitting there in that restaurant. Isn't that right, kitten?"

Your brain was barely capable of stringing together a coherent thought, much less a snarky comeback, but somehow the words slipped free despite the mindless delirium clouding your head. "Y-you were the one who wouldn't stop teasing," you moaned, squirming fitfully against the delicious pressure poised at your molten core. "Can't say I wasn't tempted to drag you into the bathroom and suck you off..."

The words dissolved into a keening cry as Gojo abruptly slammed into the hilt, filling you to the brim and beyond in one brutal, unyielding stroke. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and lower back as he immediately began pounding into your clenching walls, each powerful thrust punching the breath from your lungs.

"Is that so, sweetheart?" Gojo gritted out, hissing through clenched teeth as the clutching vice of your inner walls seemed to squeeze the very life from his engorged shaft. "You were just planning on being a dirty little tease the whole time we were at dinner? What a fucking minx..."

Gojo punctuated the statement by angling your hips upward to drill even deeper, each merciless thrust nudging the sensitive spot at the very end of your channel until the pressure sent stars exploding behind your eyelids. The only sounds that could emerge were a series of broken mewls and wordless whines, utterly incapable of doing anything but lay there and take the exquisite torment of his unrelenting, devastating pace.

"Yeah, that's it, let me feel just how desperately you've been needing this," he snarled, large hands gripping your waist as his pelvis hammered a merciless rhythm against your overstimulated sex. "Soak this fucking cock like a good little kitten. Don't hold back on me, baby. Show me how much you missed Daddy's cock and I might let you cum."

You could barely process the filth spilling free from his mouth at this point, each syllable dissolving into an electric buzz as his ruthless assault stoked the pressure mounting inside you. It was a familiar, heady rush of sensation—a coiling tension that seemed to grow tighter and more unbearable with every punishing roll of Gojo's hips against yours.

He was driving you toward a cliff's edge without pause or quarter, and the sheer force of his intensity was dizzying. Yet, despite the frantic, almost savage cadence, you could feel the subtle shift in his grip and angle as Gojo's gaze bored into your face. Even in the midst of his own delirium, the sheer focus and attentiveness in his stare was intoxicating.

"F-fuck, I'm so close," you gasped out, feeling your core spasming and clutching against the rigid pistoning length impaling you. You feebly reached out, desperate for any kind of anchor amidst the relentless tidal wave of sensation threatening to pull you under. "Satoru...please, want you to kiss me again."

Without missing a beat, Gojo's hands shifted, scooping you up until you were practically cradled in his lap. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and midsection, ankles hooking together as his thrusts never paused. The new position left your torso arching up toward his chest, and Gojo quickly took advantage, slanting his mouth over yours with renewed hunger.

Each slide and curl of his tongue seemed perfectly in time with the driving roll of his hips, and the added closeness was swiftly becoming too much. You were hurtling toward the edge of the abyss, and this time, Gojo seemed intent on taking you down with him.

"My perfect girl, taking my cock like such a good little slut," he gritted out, one hand tangling in your hair while the other braced your back, keeping your bodies fused together. "Been dreaming about this tight cunt for fucking days, and it's even better than I remember. Now be a good kitten and soak Daddy's cock for me."

You could feel yourself tumbling over the precipice even before Gojo's hand snaked down to thumb your clit, and the dual assault was all it took to send you reeling into blinding euphoria. Your climax hit like a freight train, ripping through you with an almost painful intensity that left your toes curling and vision blurring.

Gojo continued thrusting his full length in a rapid-fire tempo, hissing out a strangled groan as the spasms of your inner walls finally dragged him into the depths of oblivion alongside you. Your limbs felt like jelly, and you were grateful for his grip holding you steady as the waves of rapture subsided.

He didn't release you, though, not right away. Rather, Gojo simply held you in his arms, his cheek pressed to the side of your head and the slow rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. The two of you remained silent for a long moment, simply breathing together as the room gradually stopped spinning around you.

Eventually, Gojo pulled back enough to cup your jaw and slant his mouth over yours in another gentle, exploratory kiss. It was nothing like the devouring claims and searing conquests that had preceded it, and the tenderness in the simple press of lips left you feeling utterly weightless.

When Gojo finally withdrew, the smirk curling his lips was positively self-satisfied. "I'd say that’s enough foreplay, wouldn't you, baby?"

You could only huff a soft laugh in response, shaking your head as the residual tremors of bliss faded. "You consider thatforeplay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I too gentle?" he retorted, feigning a look of innocent confusion. "Maybe we should try round two, then. I'll give you a chance to demonstrate what you meant about sucking me off."

The words emerged in a low, silky murmur as his large hands gripped and squeezed the supple curves of your ass, eliciting a soft squeal from you. You smacked at his broad chest ineffectually, unable to fight the grin tugging at your own mouth.

"You're incorrigible."

"That's not a no," Gojo pointed out, his smug expression practically radiating his unrepentant satisfaction. "And if you keep acting all cute and sassy, I can't promise I'll be able to resist the urge to bend you over and remind you exactly who's in charge."

Your stomach fluttered at the casual, nonchalant admission. It was an undeniable thrill knowing just how badly Gojo craved this—craved you. The thought alone was enough to send a fresh wave of warmth flooding through your veins.

"Maybe I'm not opposed to the idea," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip as you glanced up through your lashes.

The look was clearly too much for Gojo's self-control. His eyes darkened with fresh desire, and his grip shifted to lift and turn you so that you were sprawled facedown across the rumpled cushions.

"Well, in that case," he growled, the heat and weight of his body blanketing yours as his hips pressed flush to the swell of your backside. "Let's see just how filthy this mouth is, shall we?"

The room seemed to exist in its own hushed, velvety cocoon of tranquility - a stark contrast to the ferocious passion that had consumed every inch mere moments ago. You lay draped languidly across Gojo's powerful frame with your cheek pillowed on the rises and valleys of his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat reverberated through your lashes in a soothing cadence.

One of your hands traced idle, featherlight patterns over the expanse of his toned abdomen - mapping the ridges and grooves so recently sheened and flexing under your ardent worshiping. Gojo remained equally at peace beneath your sprawled embrace, those brilliant azure irises at half-mast while he reclined with one arm crooked behind his head.

Despite the palpable aura of repletion surrounding you both, a new undercurrent began to gradually assert itself in the weighted stillness. You felt compelled to disturb the quietude to address what this entire evening had truly culminated towards - the deal quietly brokered between heated sheets and joined bodies.

"I'll contact the elders first thing," you murmured, the words seeming to slip free before your mind fully grasped their implication. "About postponing Itadori Yuji's case, like you wanted."

Gojo's chest expanded minutely on a slow inhale, but otherwise his statuesque form remained comfortably inert as your words hung in the air between you. After several beats, you felt the subtle weight of his stare alighting on your upturned features.

"Yeah?" His resonant timbre emerged in a low, stripped rasp - sounding as thoroughly unraveled as the rest of his carefully compartmentalized composure. "They'll actually listen to your stance on something so high-stakes?"

You allowed your own eyes to slip shut in a protracted blink, thoughts rapidly trying to align and process how to even begin verbalizing the sheer revelations that had bloomed open tonight about your place within the jujutsu hierarchy.

"I didn't fully grasp it at first," you admitted, voice coming out slightly roughened from earlier exertions. "But now I'm starting to understand the actual leverage my positioning and reputation has afforded without me even noticing."

Rather than respond directly, the only sound came from a protracted exhalation through Gojo's nose - seeming to signal his grasp of the situation finally mapping out as well. You hoped he also understood just how monumental a gambit he'd set into motion by hammering the truth home in his uniquely heated approach tonight. Not to induce guilt, per se...but perhaps a smidgeon more humility about the harrowing stakes being juggled.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Gojo abruptly shifted his weight until you were rolled over onto your back - his solid bulk carefully blanketing yours without pressure. When your gazes met and locked, you felt that simmering connection arc back into incandescence once more between your joined frames.

"You continue underestimating yourself," he murmured in a timbre now rendered warm gravel thanks to its gravelly softness. He cupped the side of your jaw, thumb tracing the bow of your lips in a barely-there caress that spoke to so much more than surface motions. "Which is exactly why I'm never going to stop knocking some sense into that stubborn head of yours..."

With that throaty declaration, Gojo dipped his chiseled features lower until your foreheads brushed - noses scanting along one another in an electrifying gossamer graze. The intimacy of the motion seemed to steal your very breath straight from your lungs as he carried on in a husked rasp.

"So thank you. For listening to reason and actually wielding your power for once when it really mattered..."

Unable to resist the unspoken pull between your joined gravities any longer, you surged up to seal Gojo's mouth in a slow, simmering clash of satin flesh and indulgent possession. All the unvoiced sentiments and roiling tides of turbulence hovered for a suspended eternity within that singular nexus point before gradually dispersing into peaceful becalm once more.

Eventually Gojo broke away with the barest hint of a crooked smile tugging at those stupidly perfect lips, clearly satisfied with your acquiescence for the time being. The two of you simply basked in silence for a while longer, relishing in this well-earned moment of bonded lassitude.

That is, until the first stirrings of Gojo's impish irreverence inevitably bubbled back up in the form of his rich baritone laced with none-too-subtle swagger:

"So...I take it this means I get to thoroughly ruin you again before breakfast? No more insufferable teasing about you not putting out until your higher-up buddies get their precious signatures?"

You scoffed out a long-suffering sound of semi-amused exasperation, already anticipating the thick cloud of smug virility about to descend. Sure enough, Gojo's chest puffed with unrepentant satisfaction as he slung one heavy arm around your waist and lightly squeezed.

"That's what I thought. Face it kitten, that pretty pussy has officially been drafted into service under my uncompromising authority until further notice..."

He punctuated the lewd declaration by slanting his mouth over yours in a deliriously thorough deluge of hunger and virility, effectively stealing your very breath for a second rapturous cycle before exhaustion could dare creep back in.

And as your joined frames spiraled back into the delirious vortex of blissful dissipation once more, you couldn't help hazarding one last, bemused thought: somehow, you got the distinct impression Gojo would be exercising his latest "authority" over you with particularly unrestrained enthusiasm this time around.

[1kazul]

I haven't gotten over the internalization yet. i still don't let myself be loud, no matter how hard i try to. i still punish myself whenever i upset someone.

growing up as a girl fucking sucked, especially with a brother who i was always compared to.

when we were younger, he had some emotional issues and often (a couple times a week, maybe? i don't quite remember) had hour-long meltdowns with stomping and screaming at my parents. i was never really a target but he took up so much space in the people around me's lives that i guess i learned i didn't deserve any.

i play the drums, but i don't let myself do it when other people are home. i pause my music or put in earbuds when my family comes into the living room. i can't stand the feeling of being in the way or disruptive.

my brother was such a "disruptive" child and i was always thanked for not being like that. i was never blatantly told that i was better than him, but the message got across. I was such an easy child, compared to him. i was polite and quiet, i had good self-control, and i was complimented for this frequently. but now i can't get out of it.

whenever i'm purposely rude, even if it was somewhat deserved, i feel like a terrible person. i'm arguing about something i believe in that someone disagrees with and i start to doubt my feelings about it. i have low self confidence, to add to all the other things.

yeah so that was a lot longer than i meant it to be. i guess it's kind of a vent, sorry about that.

I feel like people forget most trans guys still had to grow up as girls.

We were still forced to be mature early

We were still told to not to take up space

We were still subject to female beauty standards

Our bodies were still treated as inappropriate

We were still pitted against each other

We were still excluded from “male” activities

We were still treated as lesser the boys

Those things don’t evaporate once we transition they’re fucking internalized. I constantly have to remind myself I’m allowed to exist. We don’t stop dealing with misogyny.

[sematarygirls]

 📖 ─── a cluttered scrapbook: send in any thoughts on any of the characters below for a blurb .ᐟ

omg hello congratulations??? literally love your blog sm. you’re writing is peak and so perf. i was thinking, we all know rafe is a “proactive” type of person (or so he says). so how would he react to reader giving him the silent treatment after she found out something? (maybe he was doing cocaine again after she explicitly asked him not to anymore???) and what antics would he use to get reader talking to him??

once again, congratulations to you. you deserve so much!!! so proud of you <3333

thank you so much !! i'm so sorry it took so long to get to this </3

cw: dark rafe, manipulation, controlling behavior, threats of self harm

Rafe hates the silent treatment. It feels like a slap in the face. After everything he's done for you, you can't even give him the basic respect of talking things out?

He had done a great job of hiding his ongoing cocaine addiction after you'd threatened to break up with him if he didn't stop. He absolutely couldn't stand ultimatums, being backed into a corner, but he also couldn't lose you, so he promised he would quit and get clean, even pretending to go off to a rehab facility for a month—during which he was actually going on a month-long bender in a fancy hotel up in California.

And his lies had worked. For months, he hid his addiction, leading you to believe that he was finally clean and that he had done it for you.

But then, you dropped your phone one night at his house, and it had found its way under his bed. Leaning down to retrieve it, you pushed up the bottom of his comforter and found yourself greeted by the sight of a wooden box you'd seen before—the very one you had watched Rafe throw away before he went off to "rehab".

With shaky hands, you opened the box and found yourself staring at a baggie of white powder, a substance you knew all too well.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice came from the doorway, sharp and defensive. He knew he had been caught, but his mind was already swirling with blame for you rather than accepting the consequences of his own actions. Why were you snooping around his room? Did you not trust him?

You looked up at him, your mind running a million miles a minute as a plethora of emotions overwhelmed you at once. You didn't want to talk to him. You could barely even stomach looking at him right now, so without a word, you grabbed your phone from where it had fallen and stood up abruptly.

He caught your arm as you tried to leave. "Oh, we're doing this now? Real mature," he scoffed at your behavior. You were being dramatic, childish even, by subjecting him to the silent treatment instead of trying to talk this out like adults.

You simply pulled your arm back from him roughly, not meeting his gaze as you pushed past him and hurried down the stairs. He should've followed you, but his pride and ego stopped him. You would come crawling back, apologizing for how you acted. He was sure of it.

But, you didn't. Days went by without a word, and he started to get antsy, started to spiral as paranoia overtook him. You were his. How dare you ignore him? Were you off with another guy? Were you with your awful Pogue friends? He couldn't stand not knowing where you were and having you with him every minute.

At first, he tried to manipulate his way out of it by feigning an apology and ending it with a guilt trip, texting you things like "Okay, I messed up, but you just shutting me out? That's fucked up. Just talk to me, baby," and "It's not like I was doing it all the time. I mean, cmon, are you really gonna throw everything away over this? It's nothing."

When you refused to be won over so easily, seeing right through his tactics, he would start showing up wherever you were—home, work, the beach, anywhere you were, he was there too, desperately trying to intimidate you into talking to him with his piercing gaze and menacing stance.

He would corner you, trying to force a reaction out of you. "So what, you're just going to act like I don't exist?" He'd ask harshly before softening, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his knuckle lightly grazing your cheek as he did. "C'mon, baby, I know you miss me, miss us." He could see the resolve in your eyes crumbling and it made him feel powerful and triumphant, but before you opened your mouth to speak, Kiara swept in, grabbing your arm and tugging you away from Rafe as she shot a glare in his direction.

This infuriated Rafe. Typical Pogue, always sticking their nose where it doesn't belong and fucking up his life.

From there, he attempted sending you expensive gifts with notes like "Just talk to me, baby. Let me fix this," and when that didn't work, he turned to threats, saying he would hurt himself or you if you didn't hear him out.

Finally, he showed up to your house in the middle of the night, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, pupils dilated. You hesitated but decided to open the door, and when you did, you felt guilty for ignoring him for so long. He looked absolutely wrecked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. He was clenching and unclenching his jaw, leaning against the doorframe and peering down at you. His presence was heavy, the air thick with tension as neither of you spoke.

"Let me in," he demanded. His fingers twitched at his sides before he rubbed them over his jaw. "I just—fuck, I don’t even know what to do anymore, baby." His large frame blocked the doorway, making you feel small as his eyes darted wildly. You felt a mix of guilt and fear stir in your stomach. "You’re just gonna keep pretending I don’t exist? Really?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "’Cause if you don’t talk to me now, I swear to God, I’ll—" He stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he stared at you with hardened eyes, the threat clear. You knew he meant it.

"Rafe..." You said quietly, your voice trembling slightly as you looked up at him with wide eyes, feeling like you were looking at someone you didn't recognize.

His lips quirked up in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s all I needed, baby. Just needed to hear your voice," he whispered, stepping forward to invade your space and force you backward so he could come inside. "Y'know, I'd do anything for you, right?" He asked, the question rhetorical as he reached out to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "I’ve been losing my fucking mind without you. I won't lose you. I can't lose you, alright? I-I need you. You're mine, you got that? You can't just walk away. You can't just ignore me. I won't let you."

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 11 - flatline

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

after your day with rafe yesterday, the girls had so many questions and you told them everything, down to the song he wrote for you. what you didn't expect however, was that the song was going to be released in a few days time.

"i genuinely can't believe this," sarah started, "i mean him opening up to you? the commincation? the song? where is rafe and what have you done with him." she giggled.

"no y/n i don't think you understand the extent of this. like we've all been friends with rafe for a good 6 years, and i have never seen a girl have this affect on him before."

"guys stop you're making me think i'm some kind of miracle." you laughed with them.

"that's because you are a miracle." cleo joined in.

"so do you think you'll become official soon...?" sarah questioned.

"i don't know, the fans already think we are." you stated.

"the fans are fucking crazy. you'll get used to that i promise. when me and pope started dating everyone went bonkers over it." cleo reassured you.

"i guess so, it's okay i don't mind it, it's just getting used to seeing my face whenever i open twitter." you said. "whatever, we've got a flight to catch." you all finished your last minute packing and made your way into the car that was waiting for you outside the hotel.

part of you was sad to be leaving the state you had made so many memories in, but you knew heading back to new york all together was just the beginning for this new chapter for you and rafe.

once you made it to the airport, you found the rest of the boys who had left earlier as they all entered 'dad mode' and were getting stressed, john b to blame for that.

"finally you're here!" john b began as he saw you walk through the door.

"yeah thought we were gonna have to leave without you." pope said sarcastically.

"enough. we're here now aren't we?" cleo said rhetorically.

"yes ma'am" jj joined in, everyone was in agreement that cleo was the boss of the group.

you made your way to say hi to topper, who was slowly starting to become his usual self again, you assumed him and rafe had a conversation to try and clear the air.

but you eventually made it to rafe, who looked like his was patiently waiting his turn to get your attention, "hey you" he said.

"hey" you replied with a slight blush, "i didn't know you were actually going to release the song." you rushed out.

a look of concern took over him, "do you mind?" he asked worriedly.

"no! no i'm happy" you started, "but the fans are a little crazy."

"yeah i know they are and i should've warned you about that, but the best ones mean no harm and all you can try and do is ignore them." he replied.

"hard to ignore them when they're commenting on everything i post." you quietly said.

"i can say something if it really bothers you, okay?" he softly reached out to give your hand a squeeze.

"okay" you smiled at him, always putting you at ease.

"ok love birds pack it in," jj hollered "i don't think this plane is going to wait for us."

"whatever dude" rafe grinned, "ready?" he turned to you.

"ready."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: sorry guys i made this chapter a lot more smau, just as i had the idea to do the thread (which took me ages LAWD) and also wanted to get the song mentioned ! 5 points to anyone who knows the actual song and band🙈

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @popou61

[chimerafeathers]

the concept of intentional boredom/tedium in video games is very much a "your mileage may vary" kind of thing and i go back and forth about it in different situations. where does it work? where does it feel earned/worth the mental toll? why am i gonna play a game that is trying to make me miserable?

i can understand this not being the case for everyone (ymmv, after all) but for ISaT i was so fucking fully on board with the repetitive tedium of it all. rubbing my grubby little hands together and going yesssss, yesssssss, make my immersive gameplay experience directly emulate the exact frustrations and anxieties and mind-numbing breakdowns of the player character. remind me, at every turn, the toll this would take on the person living it. make me live their inner monologue before it's ever verbalized on screen.

how strong you feel, compared to the party you're inevitably leaving behind, how weak they seem now. how annoying it is to cut down these same enemies again and again, always pointlessly getting in your way (oh, how convenient that Siffrin feels the same way so intensely that you can get an item that lets him scare them off by sheer force of will before they attack you!). since when was the King's battle--so terrifying, so impossible before--so easy? can't this go faster? you've heard this all before.

let me skip ahead, loop around, treat my character my body Siffrin as disposable, take the fast and easy way to reach the next goal when you're on the verge of an exciting breakthrough, this loop doesn't matter anyway. but ohh, this next loop might be The One, better do this one right and follow the script to perfection. make all the jokes and say all the right things to get the lovely bonding dialogue so you can carry the Best Version of Everyone through to the end. that'll give you the Good Ending, right? can't hurt to try, right? you don't really believe it but this time will fix everything, right?

how generous and wonderful to have so many shortcuts at hand! dissociating zoning out to skip repetitive dialogue, splitting your head open on a rock slipping on a banana peel in the town to loop right to the floor you need, suuuuurely all of this stuff is purely for the Player's Convenience and won't have any psychological impact on our dear protagonist such that it gets slammed back into the player's face as a stomach-dropping reminder that someone's moment-to-moment experience in this time loop still matters, still carries over, still gets riddled with scars even if they can't be seen!

i've played & watched enough games that trivialize/hand-wave game mechanics that it's pretty easy to detach myself from the minutiae of video game decision-making. "this input gets the Good Response" -> "i will continue doing this input." "this option will be more efficient" -> "might as well save some time then." but this game would not let me stop thinking about consequence.

picking Siffrin's favorite food makes them happy! :) it's also the option that makes Bonnie the happiest! yay! -> i keep picking their favorite food -> Siffrin gradually grows sick of something that once brought him joy -> oh. right. that...makes sense, huh.

okay i asked the King what i needed, mann there won't be any tears after the fight is over so i'll have to do the whole ending scene again and that takes a while and i reeeeally wanna talk to Loop, maybe i'll just lose on purpose this time -> OH. RIGHT. THIS IS MAYBE THE MOST PAINFUL WAY FOR SIFFRIN TO DIE BOTH PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY HUH. -> never gonna do that again actually!!!!! the ending isn't that long!!!!

banana peel time! we've got places to be and mysteries to solve! -> (you're a living comedy sketch.) (you wonder if you'll ever be able to smell bananas again without wanting to vomit.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

it's always cute to see Isabeau's reactions! pick the options that make him blush :3 -> (disgusting. manipulative. it's no wonder he thinks he likes you, you made him feel that way.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry siffrin NO he liked you before any of this happened please don't think of yourself that way--

maybe it won't hit the same for every player (what game can expect to do that?) but holy fuck it hit for me. the way the mechanics let you fall into familiar gamey rhythms but constantly, constantly remind you that this is Siffrin's life you're playing with. the way you end up perfectly in step in the worst ways. muscle memory and habit built up so well that you both stumble when something changes. devastating and delicious

[thatruerealmwalker]

probably not related, but like for me, I have a problem with well... I think the term is Lolicon?

Characters that are depicted as child like in appearance, mentality, and mannerisms, but then someone slaps on "Actually their 50" and then that makes it 100% okay for someone to date what many people would consider a child

I actually got in a fight with a friend because of it, and while I still feel bad for doing that to them, it's still just BLEH ya know?

I've been trying to tone it down a bit, even though I think this specific situation is really messy and kinda fucked, I've been told "As long as it doesn't hurt people, it's fine" which... I hope is true, but again it still feels bleh to me

And... I think that's why people are so up in arms about shipping. Morals. Well- not fully, but I think it plays a part. Like-

Oh! My friend, same one I talked about earlier, has told me that they can't see a character be different between different... representations? Basically, they will also see one character as *always* that character. Which... is bad, because when that character acts out of line from what they believe for that character... well I'm sure they get upset

And I can see that applying to others. Someone looks at a piece of media, sees two characters, thinks their close enough to be siblings, slots that in not as "Headcanon/This is something that I made up" but as "This is my read of the character, and that's final!"

So, when someone else ships those two characters, that person will look at it, and their morals will scream "INCEST ISN'T GOOOOOOD!" and then you get a freak out from them.

But, then again, this is only my view, and I'm sure other people have evidence and world views that also apply here.

It is an interesting topic to be sure though!

man i dont want to get all "fandom elder" on people because i think its cringe when people talk about the "good old days" of shipping culture and then ignore the rampant misogyny, queerphobia and racism in those communities but i gotta say: why are people so weird about shipping now?

Like there's really bizarre things i keep seeing younger/newer people in fandoms get upset over. like the obsession with only shipping canon couples. getting upset over crackships. viewing two characters as siblings (who arent considered siblings in the narrative) and getting mad when people ship them. If you get a relationship slightly off people will right a massive thesis statement about it flat out harass you over it. people have to put "not a ship" under platonic art because shippers will blow a fuse if they read it as slightly romantic. pick me queer people getting pissed off when people ship two characters of the same gender and accusing them of "not appreciating platonic relationships" (which by the way, funny to me that this is only thrown at m/m ships and never f/f ships).

Like shipping culture is supposed to be fun, what are we doing here.

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

at the risk of stating the obvious, i want everybody in this fandom to know that your partner hitting you once is abuse. since i've seen people around here claiming that it's the "frequency" that counts, implying that Caitlyn hitting Vi one time is not a big deal, since she never does it again (which is not even true btw).

this is such a disgusting and naive and untrue idea, and i very much hope these people don't believe in what they're saying and just want to defend their favorite character. hear me out, your partner hits you once and that's the moment you run. chances are it wil happen again. and even if it doesn't, you deserve way better than to be with someone like that.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 44. ???

a/n: written part seems a bit short but shits gonna be brewing (i think) also the last name for lauren rhymes with the last name of an evil man i know so like. shit i just make up ppl based on my Enemies omfg…

you shouldn’t be doing this. you should be on your way to hybe right now to tell hanni that yujin solved her “problem” with her girlfriend. you shouldn’t have lied in the first place, really.

still, you’re out your dorm with something slightly presentable because you can’t show up looking like a bum to see the girl who dumped you over a year ago.

fuck. you think as you walk toward the cafe. fuck.

there's a growing worry about whether or not you'll be caught out with her, knowing that there's a bit of attention on you due to your popularity. it doesn't matter, you tell yourself, it'll be over quickly.

you walk in and the cafe is quiet other than the clinks of cups, conversation, and buzz of the espresso machine. scanning the room, there's a familiar figure that sits in the more secluded corner. you order a latte in hopes that it'll give you some good luck.

when the time hits 3:05, you sit in front of lauren, catching her by surprise. she looks more mature now, prettier (as much as you hate to admit), but there's a familiarity that weighs the air with too much left unsaid. you don't let any of it bother you, not yet.

"you look good," she says first, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

you exhale slowly, offering a polite nod. "thanks."

she hesitates for a moment, fingers tapping against the table before she speaks again. "I missed you."

you grimace. the words hang between you, waiting for something—acknowledgment, maybe. but you only lift your cup to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down.

"how are you and your boyfriend?" you ask, voice even.

she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "still together."

of course. you nod again, as if it doesn't matter—because it doesn't.

"what do you want? and why are you in seoul?" you ask, tone vicious.

she traces her nail along the rim of her glass. "for work. i do modeling on the side."

the irony hits you, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh.

"what?" she asks, tilting her head.

"that's so fucking ironic. you bashed me for doing music and now you're a model. are you playing with me?" you respond, though it 's not hard to believe that she is a model; she's pretty, it's not hard to see that. hating her guts doesn't erase that either.

she smiles, that same practiced, self-assured curve of her lips. "it's different. modeling is just a side thing for me. I'm still focused on my degree and getting a stable job. you know, something secure." she takes a sip of her drink, keeping eye contact.

it's backhanded, but you don't react. you simply nod.

"right." you say, your tone light.

you don't owe her anything—not a reaction, and definitely not an explanation. whatever this meeting was supposed to be, it's clear now that it isn't for closure. maybe just curiosity on her end. for you? it's just a reminder that some things are better left in the past; you should've seen hanni instead.

lauren places her chin on her palm, giving you the same look that she'd give you before a kiss or something more. you feel your heart sink and there's a strange, uncomfortable churn in your stomach.

"you look really good after all this time. all that fame did you good." she says, smirking. "it's no wonder I spent all that time with you. i really do miss it."

you freeze, unsure of how to respond.

she chuckles and reaches over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears before sliding her finger down your cheek.

"you're lucky, you know?" she continues, "i can't believe you made it this far. maybe I should've reconsidered."

you scoff. "don't you have a boyfriend? stop acting like this."

"i always liked to tease." she grins, not fighting back when you put your hand on hers to aggressively push it back. "your reactions were always great—cute."

what are you still here for? you groan at her response, narrowing your eyes at her. she seems to be scanning you, looking for every emotion you feel through your eyes and twitch of your features. it's scrutinizing, and it urges you to bring the meeting to a close.

"i don't know what you wanted, or what you gained from this," you begin, standing up. "but if it was to make me feel bad again, then fuck you. and if you really thought you could coax me back into your life—you're a fucking idiot. i honestly don't want to hear from you again, don't contact me or anything."

her reaction consists of a mere chuckle, plus a shit-eating grin. you bite down on your back teeth and scoff again at her before leaving. you've never had a more confusing—and frustrating—interaction with her. what was the point? for her to bash you discretely? you tell yourself not to get worked up by it, but it made your blood boil.

—

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites

[cometconmain]

Personally, when I created the writeup I have on my blog giving a brief rundown of my blog in the description it was less of a "don't interact because I don't know how/refuse to use a block button" in the sense described here and more intended as what I originally thought a DNI was supposed to be:

"I don't tolerate actual bigoted behaviour so don't waste your time coming in here thinking we'll be friends only to spring some bigoted bullcrap on me later thinking that was a normal thing to believe/say/do. Don't waste your time and don't waste mine. Here's where I stand on these real life actual problem things so you can just bail if you're not ready to accept that. If you can't critically consume fictional media and don't have anything substantial to say in your critical consumption, I don't have time for you so save your breath and mine and go back to your purity cult. Also if you're under 18 this blog is not for you. I am an adult and don't wish to have minors running around pretending like we're all chill with having kids on a blog with adult-only content actually when I don't kmow you exist or haven't been told in some way that you shouldn't be here despite how clear I've made it that this is an adult-only space. Leave.

And if I find out you're any of these types of people I WILL be curating my internet experience by blocking you."

You know? There are different ways to use DNIs that aren't "fuck you no you put all the effort in to not expose me to you" and are instead intended more like "Hey look interact if you want but I'm warning you that you're wasting your time long term if you think you can be shitty to real life people right in front of my salad, so to save us both the hassle I'm leaving it up to you specifically because I have no idea you exist and can't block you until I do so feel free to take that first step since you know we won't gel and you know I exist while I have not yet had the displeasure."

That said, people definitely shouldn't put real life issues next to fandom preferences and gripes. It defangs serious real world issues by trying to take the fangs off them and slap them directly onto the fictional things to lend credence to them because the person doing it doesn't know how to express their discomfort well enough to feel heard about it/expect people to dismiss anything they say out of hand so they grab whatever closest thing from real world issues already considered serious which could kind of fit if you do a handstand and squint through a cloud of steam. Which has the opposite effect, because now people are (rightfully) angry at them for trivialising real world issues to make people treat their perspective on fictional media seriously.

If you know how to criticise media and/or make sure you know the difference between actually potentially harmful handling of a theme within fictional media vs something made you uncomfortable and you want to express it and feel heard as part of processing it but don't know how, then you probably won't feel as strong of - if any - need to play up what you have a problem with. Because a) you know how to express your position to get people to listen to you, b) don't need strangers on the internet to validate you to know you're right because you're versed in identifying and talking about how to fix this problem in media causing potential harm to a marginalised group or otherwise teaching potentially harmful perspectives and here's why... and c) you know when something is just bothering you personally and probably have some healthier copes for it, like ranting into the void on your own post without using any main fandom tags and/or ranting to your friends and/or writing fix-it fic and or- you get the gist.

The day we start doing more of that is the day this whole 'anti-shipper' and responding 'pro-shipper' thing will probably calm down a little bit.

i don't respect DNIs not in the sense i go out of my way to break them but in the sense that i don't respect DNIs as a concept and consider them to be something of a red flag in general.

i'm not sure how to explain it but it's the combination of usually putting very serious issues on the same level as fandom stuff, the fact that half the time people don't even know what they're against beyond 'the bad stuff' therefore even further watering these issues down, and the idea that other people are expected to manage your online existence for you.

there's a passiveness to it that i think is actually a problem and it does not surprise me in the slightest that people with DNIs tend to view what media they consume as activism. do you get what i'm saying.

[spopsalt]

The way the song Mastermind romanticizes Blitzo's trauma bond/codependency to Stolas is disgusting :D

Like Stolas saying "I would rather die than live life without you by my side" and Blitzo saying "I can't live life without you by my side" THAT'S NOT ROMANTIC! THAT IS CODEPENDENCY AND YOU KNOW IT! I hate it when lines like that get romanticized, it is not cute, it is U N H E A L T H Y !

Also Stolas...YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER AND YOU KNOW HOW HORRIBLE YOUR WIFE CAN BE! SO BY DYING FOR BLITZO YOU ARE KNOWINGLY LEAVING YOUR DAUGHTER WITH YOUR WIFE WHO WAS EMOTIONALLY ABUSIVE TO YOU! Worse, he didn't even THINK of Octavia, yet we're supposed to believe he's some flawed dad who's "just doing his best🥺"

FUCK THAT! He is a bad, emotionally neglectful dad, no matter how hard Viv tries to convince us otherwise. And Via is NOT required to keep her dad in her life, ESPECIALLY after she saw that he was going to give his life for Blitzo, without even thinking of her, and how it'd affect her when she saw her dad ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE! Especially when he promised that he would never leave her, and he was about to do exactly that ON TELEVISION! And Stolas KNEW that this is exactly what Via was afraid of

"Are you going to go with him and leave me behind...? Go somewhere where...I can't find you...?"

then Stolas saying

"No! No, no, no, not ever!"

...So he just fucking lied to his daughter's face, hell, no wonder why she's pissed and cut Stolas off, I'd do the same if I was in her shoes, yet people are getting angry at her for it.

I mean it's bad enough that she's romanticizing Stolas and Blitzo's relationship when Stolas fucking COERACED HIM and now you're trying to make their relationship so cute and RELATIONSHIP GOALS!

[authorsofghosts]

Sin | Kurt Wagner x Reader

Summery: Kurt likes you. Maybe a little too much. He can't stop thinking about you, and it causes him to get in his head a little too much,

Themes: Angst -> Smut, Mutual Crush, Open Ending, Alcohol/Drinking, Awkwardness, Character Cameo, Flirting, Kurt Has a Beard and Forked Tongue (because fuck you), His face is also skin (not fur), Oral (male receiving), Porn with Plot, Shorter!R (<5'9), R is a mutant/x-man (No Powers Written), Religion Talk.

Word Count: ~1.8k

@sometimescherwrites spare wife? spare wife?

NSFW MDNI 18+ ONLY

Kurt sat there, tail wrapped around his leg, staring at you as he fidgeted with his rosary. You sat across the dining room table, eating and not even aware that his glowing yellow eyes were boring into you. He swallowed hard, looking down at his own plate of food that was left untouched. He looked to his side, being nudged by the elbow of the person next to him.

"Distracted, bub?" Logan snickered slightly.

"No," Kurt lied, grabbing his forking and stabbing it into whatever was on his plate, shaking his head. The spade of his tail taps his calf anxiously. "Was just praying."

Logan shock his head, knowing better, but not prying much further. Kurt stared down at his food to try and focus on that instead of you. He doesn't know what it is about you, but he's absolutely entranced by anything you do. A simple flick of your hair, your laugh, anything.

He sneaks small glances in your direct anytime he'd hear you speak, a smile smile on his blue lips. He didn't dare look at you long enough for you to notice. He didn't know what kept him from his usual confidence with you, but it drove him crazy. He finishes dinner as quick as possible, dismissing himself.

He sneaks into the halls of the mansion, finding himself on his way to his room on autopilot. He puts his hand on his door as he turns the knob, pointed ears perking up as he hears a voice from behind him.

"Kurt? You ask softly, brows knitted together as you looked at someone you thought of as a friend, maybe even just a little bit more. He looks... sad. Not himself.

He turned to you, his eyes wide. He clears his throat, tilting his head just enough for his onyx curls to shift to one side. "Ja?" He whispers, not meaning to.

"Are you... okay?" You ask, taking a few steps closer to him. Your eyes flicked down to his hands as he turned, leaning against the door to his room. "I mean, you were really quiet, you're usually the life of the party."

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. He had been stuck in his own head this evening, maybe because of you, maybe because of something else. He wouldn't admit it, however. "Nein, no, I'm uh... I'm fine, liebchen." He laughs out halfheartedly.

You didn't believe him, hearing the waver in his voice that makes it obvious he's lying. "You sure? Do you wanna... talk about anything?" You probe.

Your concern for his well being makes his heart flip, his face reflecting it in the worst way possible. "You know, uh..." He starts, trailing off immediately, tail flicking behind him. "How about we have a discussion, over a glass of wine, perchance?"

Kurt smiled at your sudden tension, putting out his three fingered hand. You looked at him, trying to hold back a smile. You take his hand, your wrist immediately being wrapped around by his tail as his other hand opens his door.

"You have wine?" You ask finally.

"Ah, Charles allows me it for religious purposes. Though, I may abuse this small allowance." He smiles softly, his own cheeks flushed a soft purple.

"I see." You say, looking around his room. It was more... red than you imagined. Of course, that was his favorite color, besides black. He made sure to let everyone know that it was not blue.

Kurt walked over to his desk, pulling out a drawer and pulling out a box. He grabbed two glasses out of it before showing you the bottle of wine. "Does it suffice?" He joked.

"I'm sure it won't kill me." You chuckled, sitting in a comfortable looking arm chair in the corner of his room. He turned on his desk lamp before sitting in the rolling chair, leaning back as he poured the glasses of wine.

"I assure you I'd never poison you, mein Liebe." He chuckled, handing you your glass. You take a slow sip, looking at him as he watches you with a smile.

The short, shallow glass has barely enough wine to cause anyone to get even a little buzzed, but the thought and caring act is still there. "So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Kurt chokes slightly on his wine as he realized he did promise you to talk about what had him in his head. His brain works overtime to try and think of anything but you. He sighed, smiling as he laughs softly, "I guess I may just be a little out of my element. I'm rather, ah, how do you say..." He clicks his tongue in thought, stroking his beard. He looks at you, judging your reaction before he continues. "A little lovesick, I guess."

Your eyes widen, looking at him. You take another sip of the wine, looking down. You knew he could never like you back. It's just a stupid crush anyways, Kurt couldn't like you, so you looked at him with a fake smile. "Lovesick? You?"

"Ah, yes, I am." He says, blushing furiously. "They, uh... they're very nice." He laughs, scooting forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. "Funny, cute, powerful..."

The way his eyes are half lidded clues you in in something that makes all your self doubt disappear in moments. "Do I... know them?" You ask softly. He smirks, leaning back again, spreading his legs apart, nodding. "Are they on the team?"

He chuckles softly, setting his half drank glass of wine down. "I think you know them very well, actually." He looked at you, fidgeting with his rosary once again. His thumb rubs the cross as he fights back to urge to bite his lip.

You feel your face heat up, realizing exactly who he's talking about. You take another sip of wine, setting your glass down and sitting up slightly. "Very well you say?" You stammer slightly, looking into his yellow eyes.

"Yes. And I think you know who I'm talking about, don't you, mein Schatz?"

The words send a chill down your spine, and you stand up, making his eyes widen. You can't help but take two steps forward and place your lips again his, hand resting on his chin. It takes but a split second for him to kiss back, forked tongue snaking around yours before you overpower it.

You fall into him, your hands quick to wrap around his shoulders and tangle in his hair, pouring all the pent up feelings into this one moment. You pulling slightly on his hair, making him whine and pull back. "You're very forward."

"Shut up." You murmur against his lips before pressing yours to his again, "You talk too much." You say before biting his bottom lip, pulling it into your mouth before licking and sucking on it. He gasps, a small whimper escaping his throat. "Oh?" You laugh, pressing your forehead to his.

He looks up into your eyes, his own illuminating your flushed cheeks. He blinks a few times before he pulling you down to kiss him again. "Silence." He murmurs, picking you up and laying down on the bed, placing you atop him.

"No, I don't want you to be quiet. And I'm not going to be quiet either." You smile, handing gripping his hair again, pulling and causing him to gasp, a muffled 'Scheiße' falling from his lips as yours fall down to his neck, nipping softly.

You continue to travel down his torso, taking his shirt off somewhere in the process. You trail soft kisses along his fur, looking up at him as he watched you with wide eyes, continuing to whine and whimper with each caress and press of your lips again his body. You palm his bulge, eyes widening at the sheer size. "I see you're ready, huh?"

"Sh-shut up." He whispers, eyes rolling back. He gasps as your hand travels into his pants, "Fuck, please-" He whines out, hips bucking up into your hand.

"Patience, Kurt..." You say, pressing a kiss to his lower stomach, slowly pulling his pant and boxers down. His cock springs out, hitting his abs as he groans. "So pretty." You whisper, your hand wrapping around the blue length, "Such a pretty boy, huh?"

Kurt hisses at the touch and praise, head falling back. You pump his cock, the head turning a slight purple as beads or precum drips from it. You take his tip into your mouth, watching his face intently as you suckle, tongue swirling around it and collecting each pearl of savory salty pre. You pull back, panting, your breath making his dick twitch more. "P-please, don't stop." He stutters, making you smile wider.

"You want me to continue?" You ask. He nods in response, biting his lip as he looks down at you between his legs, the image more than he can handle. He turns his head, putting a hand in front of his face.

"Oh, no you don't. eyes on me, Kurt." You purr softly, licking up his length, kissing softly until he finally can't handle the teasing and looks into your eyes once again. "Good, good boy." You smile, sitting up slightly before pushing a good inch or so of his dick into your mouth.

"Ah- Scheiße, fuck-" He moans out, hips bucking into your mouth, pushing more into your mouth. You don't pull back, however, just pushing his cock head into your throat and opening wider, hallowing your cheeks to fit it. Kurt continues to moan out, almost pathetically, as your lips and mouth travel up and down his shaft.

It twitches as more pearly white precum falls against your tongue. "Ah, Liebchen, fuck-" He groans, getting closer as you push his length down your throat, the sound almost pornographic before you pull his dick out your mouth, pumping slowly.

"You gonna cum for me, huh? You gonna be good and cum in my mouth, right?"

"Y-yes, please, ah... Please, more." He whines out, his hand finding your face, stroking your cheek. You take this as a sign for you to get back to business.

It doesn't take but a few more seconds of your mouth and hands for him to release into your mouth, paint it white. You swallow happily, taking each spurt.

You pull back, climbing on top of him once again and looking down at his pathetically smiling face. "You ready for more?" You ask softly. He answers with a soft nod.

Kurt would be lying if he didn't go to the closest confessional booth the next morning.

[electricblogodile]

I don't talk about it a lot because it is an incredibly weird thing and I have no hard evidence and we did no autopsy (would've been pointless) but I fully believe that my mother was, as the beginning of a chain of several unfortunate events, ultimately killed by one of these "supplements". In August 2019 my mom and I were in the mall. She made a stop at one of these supplement shops and the clerk did a great job selling her on a giant $40 container of snake oil pills saying it'd help with her blood pressure and achy legs (an issue caused by her diabetes). I knew she was getting fleeced but arguing with her stubborn ass would've gotten me nowhere. We get home, she takes one of these enormous horse pills, goes to bed. Whatever.

Next day she wakes up outrageously ill. Weak, throwing up, can't keep any food down, barely able to drink water. She remained ill for a month, unable to even walk herself to the bathroom without help. When she finally got a little better, she immediately overexerted going grocery shopping and wound up sick again, on and off for weeks. In January 2020 we took her to the hospital, they gave her fluids and sent her home so she wouldn't catch the "flu".

She stayed weak and sick until her death by diabetic shock in February 2020. I stared at that giant container of bullshit pills for months after the fact and could never shake the feeling that they were at the very least partially responsible. There were a lot of things that resulted in her death, but she was perfectly healthy until she took that first fucking "supplement".

So again, I have no real evidence and personal anecdotes only count for so much, so do your own research. But these things are garbage no matter what, and the losers that hawk them prey on people who are desperate for relief from problems both imagined and long-suffered. No one can convince me they didn't start the wheel that killed my mom.

I just got served an ad on a mobile game that linked to a 45-minute video for a "breathing remedy" and the video is *such* a comprehensive collection of CAM manipulation and lies that I'm considering transcribing it to break down how CAM sales tactics work.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

I Bet You Think About Me - Austin Butler

summary: y/n is friends with actor callum turner and at the wrapping party of "masters of the air" she meets austin ; 4k words

"C'mon, kid you haven't left your flat in years.", you rolled your eyes at your friend's tone and leaned your shoulder on your phone, mixing your lunch in the pot. "Don't ya roll your eyes at me."

You met Callum at a random bar in London as you were hanging out with one of your girlfriends, Linda. It was years ago, yet you always loved to bring it up since the night ended on a chaotic note. Linda left to go to the bathroom and the bartender set your two drinks in front of you. As you were sipping your drink, a man sat on your friend's stool and grabbed her drink, downing it quickly.

You stared wide-eyed, unable to say a word. His smirk seemed to take over his entire face - and then he swiftly set the glass down. "You didn't have to, love. But thank you.", he winked at you.

"That was for my friend.", you stated, looking at the empty glass that costed you a whopping six pounds. "And I have a boyfriend. That's a heads up for whatever you're trying to do.", you warned him immediately, your eyebrow raised at his questionable behavior.

"No, you don't.", he said and cleared his throat, angling his body toward yours with an elbow leaning on the counter. "I'm Callum, love.", another stupid smile on his lips. "What's your name?"

"My name is get the hell outta here before I call somebody.", you said and grabbed your purse from the counter. Callum laughed, throwing his head back.

"Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters? Your boyfriend?", his disbelief was low-key offending you.

You huffed and glared at him. "I do have a boyfriend. He's busy tonight.", you justified - though it was completely true.

"Really?", he asked with a teasing tone.

You nodded sarcastically. "Really. Now please, I'm trying to have a nice evening with my friend.", my eyes frantically searched the bar for a glimpse of Linda. 

Callum sighed and moved closer with the stool, his tone lowering. "You know, that blonde chick you were with earlier? She's makin' out with one of my friends.", he pointed behind you, making you turn around. Surely enough, Linda was kissing some guy. He looked weirdly familiar. "One of the reasons why I came here. To ask you to be my girlfriend and offer you a drink."

You couldn't believe this man's naivety, so you let out a breathless laugh. "You can't be serious.", you shook your head at him, but the idiotic smile was still set there. "I literally rejected you twice."

"Third time's the charm.", Callum shrugged. You stared at him for a moment and grasped your purse yet again, but this time you were leaving.

"Hey, c'mon. Your name, just want your name.", you dodged drunks stumbling around you and found the exit of the bar. Making sure you've sent a text to Linda, your eyes searched for taxis around. But in vain.

You let out a frustrated sigh and started walking towards the closest busstop, but there was somebody that had yet to give up on you.

"Y/N! C'mon wait up!", you pursed your lips at the sound of your name and you hastily turned around, having had enough. Callum was standing a foot in front of you, amusement flickering over his features.

"Do you have to be so dramatic? And how do you know my name?"

He ran his hand through his dark locks and smiled. "I work in movies, love. Also, I asked your friend. Had a feeling that if I yelled "get the hell outta here" you wouldn't turn around.", you couldn't help but let out a little laugh, a disapproving head shake followed. This man was fucking crazy.

"You've got my name. That's what you wanted, so goodbye.", you said in a flat tone and swiftly turned around, but a hand gently grasping your arm made you face him again. "Callum—"

"Your number?", he pouted, his touch disappearing within seconds. Your face remained neutral, not knowing how all of this would've played out.

"I have a boyfriend.", the reminder he seemed to not care about. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"Ah, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.", the teasing note in his voice was back. "I wouldn't have run out of the bar if I cared."

You shook your head at his playful demeanor. "Callum..."

"As friends? We compliment each other's personality pretty well, wouldn't ya say?", you couldn't take your eyes off of him. The playfulness, the teasing — this man child was incorrigible, yet there was something about him you couldn't put a finger on.

"I've known you for ten minutes."

He boldly wrapped an arm around your shoulder and started walking forward. "The best friendships start in the craziest ways."

They surely did, because there you were all these years later. Callum always made sure to find ways to include you in his world - from premieres to afterparties. You loved laughing and joking with him, but meeting new people wasn't your forte. Luckily, it was his.

"I'd like you to know that I treated myself to a coffee from a café.", you informed him and plated your food.

"The café right by your building?", he knew you too well. "C'mon, it's going to be fun. Everyone's going to be there and you won't be the only guest, I promise. Other guys said they were gonna bring other people as well."

You sighed as you contemplated on your options for your evening. "I don't know, Cal.", you glanced at your dog sprawled on your rug. "You know, Leo needs his evening walk and all.", you bit your lip, hoping he'd let you off the hook.

Instead, Callum laughed so loudly you had to pull the phone away from your ear. "Yeah, right. I'll pick you up at six. It's a casual event by the way. Love you, kiddo."

Another sigh filled the room as you lowered your phone. Leo randomly howled in his sleep, making you smile. "You and me, buddy."

The hours passed and six p.m. was nearing and you had yet to pick an appropriate outfit for the night. Callum said it was a casual thing, but there was absolutely nothing casual about a room full of talented actors. You didn't want to impress anybody, but you didn't want to disappoint either. A mix of both - you could do that.

"Cal, what are you wearing?", you called him for advice.

"Who's this?", his groggy voice made your brows furrow in confusion.

"Are you asleep? Cal, you're supposed to pick me up in 15 minutes!", you were stressed and a man that could get ready in two seconds and look perfect was definitely not helping.

"Jeans, t-shirt, jacket.", he murmured, but you rolled your eyes.

"I need colors, stat."

You heard him huff on the other line. "Black jeans, white t-shirt and my leather jacket. Black leather, babe.", you could almost hear the way he rolled his eyes at you.

"Mkay, bye."

"Wait- You wanna match? Aw, sweet—"

"Goodbye, Cal.", you hastily clicked on the red button and immediately planted yourself in front of your closet. You quickly spotted your blue jeans, an olive green tank top and a white blouse, which you were going to leave unbuttoned.

You nodded to yourself and breathed out in relief, quickly retrieving some jewelry to enhance the look. Some hairspray and few touches here and there, and there was Callum at the door. You bounced on one foot as you slipped on your booties, reaching the front door.

"Well, well, well. Hey, love.", he kissed your cheek almost automatically. Cal looked you up and down with a raised brow. "You woke me up to ask me what I was going to wear and then you wear the opposite?"

You smirked and curled your arm around his. "I needed to know, so that when you give me your jacket it's still going to be a good look."

He laughed, shaking his head. "When I give you my jacket?"

You nodded with a knowing look. "Of course, I know I'll be cold later on. You always insist on those late night cigarettes."

Callum laughed yet again, his eyes flickering on yours. "You could've brought your own jacket?"

You patted his arm and thanked him as he opened the door to the passenger seat. You made yourself comfortable and waited for him to be seated behind the wheel. "I want you to look like a gentleman, you know?"

"Ah, of course. Thank you, dear for thinking about my reputation.", his joking tone made it hard to keep the chuckle to yourself.

"No problem. That's why I'm here. To make you look good."

The drive wasn't all too long, with you yelling at Callum for surpassing the speed limit, you made it in twenty minutes. A very low-key bar was rented out for the entire cast of the series, with private parking and all. Nothing you hadn't experienced before, but this time it was different - your gut was sensing that something unprecedented was going to happen tonight.

"I'll introduce ya to the big guys and then to my friends.", Callum informed you, his arm out for you.

Your lips curled into a smirk as you grabbed his arm. "You're not friends with the big guys?"

"I can't with you, for real.", he shook his head, making you mentally high-five yourself. 

You were in awe of the so-called big guys Cal was talking about earlier. The wisdom in this room was unmatched and you couldn't feel luckier. You even caught a glimpse of Steven Spielberg in the back. Unbelievable.

"You guys, this is Y/N, my best friend.", Callum wrapped an arm around you, his other arm pointing at the guys around the table. "Y/N, that fool over there is Barry—"

"What—", you laughed a little at the man that certainly didn't need introduction. Not too long ago, you found out that he was the guy your friend Linda was making out with.

"Then you have Anto, who plays Harry Crosby— Vomiting all over.", Callum pointed at the man, your nose scrunched simply at the sound of the word.

"Air sickness is very much real. Also, nice to meet you.", Anto defended his character with a knowing look aimed at Callum and then winked at you.

"It is real. Cal knows a thing or two about it.", you commented, earning some laughter around the table. His response was to simply bump his body into yours, his arm unwrapping from your shoulder.

"Alright, alright. Laughing at my expense, okay. No jacket privileges tonight.", you lightly slapped his torso, laughing at his defensive tone. "Anyways, blondie over there is my buddy Buck."

You looked over at the man in question and your lips parted in awe. He was the only one that showed up in a suit - sheer, black shirt with the first few buttons open, showing off his toned chest. Was he even real?

The blonde man laughed, shaking his head. "I'm Austin.", he smiled - his smile was warm, gentle, inviting. "The character I play is called Buck. He's Bucky's best friend.", he explained with ease and you just nodded, still in a haze.

"And Bucky is me, obviously.", Callum intervened, nudging your side with his elbow.

The conversation shifted and people were curious about what you were doing. Nonetheless, you weren't on top of your game tonight.

"I don't work in movies, but I love watching them.", you commented, chuckling. Your hands fidgeted on your lap under the white tablecloth. That wasn't one of your best ice breakers - it still earned a few playful comebacks - but meeting Austin tonight seemed to block you. Suddenly, you were very aware of your chipped nail polish or that your hair wasn't as styled as it should've been. Every sentence on the tip of your tongue was replayed in your head all over, your laughter was quiet and calculated. 

There was one thing you couldn't hide or control, and that was your curiosity. You loved talking and finding out random details about people you had never met before. That quality was something that intrigued Austin, waiting for one of the questions to be aimed at him. Yet nothing came from you. He had been told about his piercing gaze before and that was a weapon he intended to use on you.

"No way! My dog, Leo, is a Golden Retriever. Well, not the same as a Labrador, but same family, no?", you leaned closer to the edge of the table as Anthony let out a loud laugh. Austin couldn't take his eyes off of you - the way your eyes sparked at topics you particularly liked or the way you would slap Callum's chest to make sure he had heard too. Your eyes never met. For the first time, his piercing gaze didn't get him what he wanted.

"That's my song.", Callum called, leaning your way. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your drink, bringing it closer to your lips. He tapped the armrest of his chair and flickered his eyes to you, expectantly.

"I ain't gonna tell you not to sing.", you started slowly, yet that was the response he needed to stand up. "I ain't gonna tell you to sing either. Cal!", you shook your head, groaning. He fumbled for a microphone, yet the bar didn't provide one.

"You're kidding!", you heard him from a distance. You chuckled and grabbed your purse, fishing the pack of cigarettes. More people joined your table without introducing themselves, so now was your cue to leave for a short moment.

You glanced at the guys and accidentally made eye contact with Austin, your heartbeat accelerating. "Y/N?", it was Barry's voice, making your eyes finally move the other way.

"I'm gonna go for a quick smoke. Tell Cal, if he asks.", you motioned to the cigarettes in your hands and stood up, grasping your purse. He nodded and turned to his left, continuing his conversation.

Your legs carried you through the corridors until you found a door leading to a small balcony. You breathed in the cold air and breathed out, the stress and your overthinking tendencies melting away. A flicker of orange appeared as you cupped your hands to lighten your cigarette - a very much needed stress reliever.

"Hey.", a voice made your eyes flutter open. You turned around and spotted Austin behind the slightly open door, only leaving part of his body leaning your way. "Mind if I join you?", you felt your hands become clammy in that chilly air, your heart automatically beating faster. For you were going to be alone with him.

You exhaled the smoke and shook your head, your eyes meeting briefly. "Not at all."

He shot you a small smile and walked out to you, shutting the door behind him. His hand grasped one side of his blazer and retrieved his own pack of cigarettes. Now that he was distracted, your eyes followed every move of his, almost desperately. Simply the way he pulled out a lone cigarette and his lighter made you tremble in place.

His eyes flickered to yours, the stick between his lips and his hands still close to his face. You cleared your throat and looked away, shivering. Though you weren't sure if it was the weather or Austin being himself.

"You cold?", he breathed out, glancing at your bare forearms.

You waved him off, shaking your head. "I'm good, thanks."

Like you hadn't said a word, Austin's cigarette hung from his lips as he gallantly took off his blazer and took a step towards you. "I heard something about Callum taking away your jacket privileges."

You turned to your side and laughed a little, your eyes looking at the blazer held out for you. Your gaze shifted on Austin and lord, that cigarette and those dark eyes were making you feel things. He nudged at his blazer yet again and you just couldn't refuse.

"Thanks.", you said gratefully, feeling immediately engulfed by the unusually soft material. His manly, yet soft scent lingered under your nose. You were toast.

"No problem. I've been feeling stuffy since I walked in.", Austin said softly, his forearms against the railing as he tapped the cigarette against the metal. You hummed, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

"This is gonna come out of the blue, but...", he started, tilting his head your way. His eyes almost immediately attracting your gaze to his. "I have a feeling that you've ignored me the whole night. I-I know I don't talk a lot, but I was actually really looking forward to getting to know you."

The intensity of the blue in his eyes mixed with the gentleness and vulnerability of his words in an impeccable way. Your stupid mind game made this beautiful man doubt himself.

You shook your head and moved your gaze away. You couldn't possibly tell him that he made you flustered. Or that you developed a minuscule crush on him.

"I'm sorry.", you said with honesty. "It's just... I wasn't expecting a lot of people tonight and... I don't know...", your vague words made you want to slap yourself.

Austin raised his brows in surprise, the dots weren't connecting yet. "You talked to everybody, but me.", he felt almost embarrassed by his own words, but he was keen on understanding what was going on inside your pretty head. The moment Callum introduced you to everybody, he knew he liked you and he needed to find out if you felt the same.

Your lips parted as you stared ahead wide-eyed. The remains of your cigarettes were brought to your lips for one more drag.

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable.", his words pulled you out of trance. You glanced his way and noticed him crushing the cigarette butt in an ashtray. "I, uh, I'll see ya later."

It just occurred to you that Austin followed you there. He noticed you weren't talking to him, so he was paying attention. Once he found you, he was quick to offer you his jacket and then he apologized over something he couldn't do nothing for.

Him walking away didn't feel right.

"Austin, wait.", his own heart almost exploded in his chest at the words he longed to hear. Your feet carried you to stand directly in front of him, your gaze confidently holding his, finally giving him the chance to look at every inch of your face. You sure looked damn good in his clothes.

You sighed and fiddled with the ends of his blazer. "I'm out of my game tonight."

A small, curious smile painted Austin's lips. "Why?", the chilly wind brushed through your hair and the lights from the city made your eyes spark. He couldn't believe his luck tonight.

Your eyes shifted from his shirt to his blue eyes. Whatever you said wouldn't have changed anything, right?

"Because of you.", the honesty took him back.

"Because of me?", you could only nod at this point, feeling mortified.

Austin desperately tried to hide his smile. He let out a little laugh instead, his hand brushing over his lips.

"So you like me?", he asked boldly and your eyes widened.

"That's what you get from "I'm out of my game"?", you said, quoting your words. Austin took a small step in your direction, your bodies inches away.

It was his turn to nod almost mockingly. "I thought you hated me, so yes, that's what I believe.", his jaw clenched as he pursed his lips. "Or at least, that's what I want to believe."

You scoffed, your eyes darting back on his. "Please, who could possibly hate you, Austin?"

He shrugged and fiddled with the ends of the blazer you were wearing. "I don't know... A funny, pretty girl like you? Maybe?", he looked up, your lips parting as you shook your head. "No? You don't hate me?", another wordless head shake fortified his own actions.

"Good, because I really wanna kiss you right now and I don't know if I'd be able to if you hated me.", you were pretty sure your cheeks were as bright as cherries, but you were happy it was dark outside.

"You can kiss me...", your voice was unsure, small, causing your chin to lower, but Austin wouldn't have none of that. His finger raised it gently, making you smile a little.

"You have pretty eyes.", he commented, making you roll your eyes as another stupid smile played on your lips.

"Please kiss me.", the shyness was taken over by desperation and he couldn't lie and say he didn't love that.

"Your wish is my command.", his hands found home on your cheeks and his lips gently set on yours. Your hands fell on the nape of his neck, loving the little hairs curling there. The kiss was electrifying, intoxicating and sweet all at once. You tasted the cigarette on him and his intoxicating smell was even stronger with you being impossibly closer.

His hands on you made you feel something you had never felt before, something you couldn't quite understand yet. Austin's cold rings against your skin made you initially gasp into the kiss, earning a groan from him. He was kissing you and you were kissing him.

Why did it feel so right?

It turned out, that pulling away from a magnet-like person that was Austin was almost impossible. But you knew you had to.

"I like taking things slow.", you said as soon as your lips parted, your hands slowly falling on his chest.

Austin hummed, nodding. "I like taking things slow too. I wanna get to know you... Your jokes, your hobbies... You know... Just you."

You bit your smile back, your gaze fluttering to his bare chest. "Aren't you cold? I'm sorry I took your jacket."

His hands squeezed your waist. "I'm not cold. You warmed me up nice.", you rolled your eyes at his cheesy words. "What? Feel, baby, I'm all warm!", his hand swiftly found yours and placed it on his chest, right by his heart.

"You are...", you didn't just feel his warmth, but his beating heart too. "Your heartbeat's fast.", you pointed out, making him smile for the hundredth time tonight.

"Because of you.", he threw your own words back at you. This man's charm was unmatched, rending you breathless before him - your body moved without even consulting your brain first. Your hands fisted the collar of his shirt and pulled him down on you again, his hands falling under his blazer, squeezing your flesh.

You lips were bruised by his passion that the sound of your name being called or the door opening weren't heard by either of you. 

"I thought you were smoking!", confusion took over your features at the familiar voice. You pulled away from Austin, who decided to leave one of his hands lingering on you, and faced your new balcony guest.

"Ah, Cal. I, uh, I was.", you pointed at the cigarettes in the ashtray.

"With me.", Austin nodded and squeezed your waist playfully.

Callum's eyes darted between you and Austin. "Were you guys making out?", his blue eyes squinted at the both you, his hand against his temple. He was obviously drunk.

You decided to tease him a little. "No, we were just talking.", you said innocently.

"And smoking.", Austin added, giving you a hard time on hiding your small smile.

Cal nodded and fished out a cigarette from the pack and brought it to his lips. "Whatever you two are doing... You kids have my blessing.", he stumbled your way, making you two part as he was heading to the railing.

"I'll drive him home.", you said, your hand placed on Cal's back as you turned your head in Austin's direction. He smiled and nodded, taking hold of your free hand, bringing it to his lips. If he didn't stop, your cheeks would permanently stay red.

"I'll see you, baby.", he lowered your hand and turned around. "Text me when you get home.", Austin opened the door to the balcony, but stopped as you called his name.

"I don't have your number.", you called with a careless smile.

"It's in the jacket.", he pointed at the blazer you were still wearing and winked at you. Your lips parted as he waved at you for the last time tonight.

"Good thing I revoked your jacket privileges.", Callum spoke up, his head low. You gently smiled and scratched his back.

"Good thing you did."

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[bogleech]

I'm actually not going to let this go until Gerry is at least as widely ridiculed as Human Pet Guy. That guy still didn't do anything half as disturbed as this fucking loser, let me pull up my favorites again:

Gerry messaging me from an alt pretending not to be an alt

Gerry claiming again that it's antisemitic of me to say the IDF are bad guys who do not represent the entire Jewish population. This is not, in fact, the same as saying they're "not jews anymore." Also bragging about supposedly baiting and sealioning me into saying whatever they believe I said wrong. I guess the stupid ass hell thing????

Calling me a "blorbo" like I'm a fictional character rather than a human. Also, I went and got the original hell comment to double check it:

.....This doesn't even say the IDF should go to hell. It says I hope people "excusing" the IDF's actions should go to hell, I just typoe'd it as "excising." I guess Gerry successfully gaslit me, since I fully believed I had said specifically "the IDF go to hell." Thanks!

Gerry accusing me of "lumping them in as pro genocide" in response to a comment in which I specifically state I do not see them that way. How else am I supposed to read them NOW, though? Because I defined that as "someone who thinks kids deserve bombs dropped on them," and Gerry's response is "how dare you say that about me......???????" What?? Not once do they ever simply say "no one deserves their town to be bombed" or anything like that. They absolutely refuse, because they do in fact believe that it's okay to bomb a whole community if some of that community might hypothetically be "hamas." They do in fact think it's acceptable that people who never hurt anyone else should die that way for some sort of greater good, or that only hamas can be blamed for those deaths by "forcing the hand" of the ones with those bombs.

Gerry admitting the IDF bombs, loots and tortures, even though most comments they call antisemitic are calling out just that very behavior. Gerry to my knowledge has never willingly blamed anything negative on the IDF since this comment and continues to attack people who do.

Gerry admitting the honest core of their beliefs and behavior. This isn't really about me, though. I mean, part of it is, I can definitely be vindictive. But I mostly ignored this asshole for the past year until the doxx comment, and now I'm getting more messages than ever from people who feel actually hurt and terrorized by this motherfucker. I've suffered ZERO fallout from their attacks, I am evidently too big I guess, but there are people who change their username to hide from this piece of shit, even fucking minors who dared to say "free palestine" once. Then there's @stoptheantisemitism, who is NOT gerry, but is impersonated by gerry's alt account @spottheantisemitism and other alt accounts, @stop-the-antisemitism and of course @stop--the--antisemitism in this very thread. Creating so many variants is a deliberate attempt to make it as hard as possible for casual rebloggers to remember which one is the real person. I mean, two alts only add dashes to the same username, and the other only moves one letter "p." I have no idea how tumblr staff can rationalize that as okay. But, again, if there's a guy who can't show his face without human pet jokes because he was just generally creepy, or everyone remembers sixpenceee's family having slaves, why can a user devote this much of their miserable life to "baiting and sealioning" people from multiple accounts and still have a usable blog left? ONE LAST THING!!!!!!!

In the notes on this very post, gerry is so bent on finding people to call out and slander they tried to find "misogyny" in a comment saying that women like studying bugs????????

Gerrysherry, the user who tells people I'm antisemitic because I think IDF soldiers are killing innocent civilians (rather than framed by some kind of Hamas conspiracy), believes my real name was a secret that I only just now accidentally revealed rather than the default way I've signed all my web content since the 1990's. Also believes that I have an employer, that "telling my parents" would affect a grown man, that my hippie mom would disagree with me anyway, and that the hatemail they got last year was all me rather than the natural and inevitable fallout of the supremely fucked up shit they say about the victims of a mass murder. Apparently would gleefully leap at any hypothetical chance at "doxxing" me though. Good to know. Literally wishes they could ruin my real actual life because I don't think Netanyahu is a hero.