#and there's at least three more parts after this one bit :')

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (5)

catch you when i can series masterlist ★ vernon x rockstar!reader who’s a foreigner in an international rock band 📼 part five, a.k.a the one where a choice has to be made

ⓘ international rockstar!f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, angst, best read in order + headcanons & addtl. content under the cut. final part. ♫ part one | part two | part three | part four. ✉︎ dedicating this to vernon!rockstar anon, forever n always. ♡

🎧 suggested/accompanying listening for while you read. without further ado.

🎧 — “it's a sunday night, a night never to be trusted for emotions. so, a lot of you guys are gonna head home and either receive texts in the dead of night, or actually compose them that are not going to be fully representative of how you feel for the rest of the day, for the rest of your week.”

This is what the press know:

Six months after the two of you went public, you and Vernon made the mutual decision to end your five-year relationship. While you both remain mum on the reason behind the breakup, insider sources claim that the pressures of a high-profile, public relationship got to you both. The two of you are committed to remain good friends despite the split.

Only one out of those three 'facts' are true.

This is what the fans know:

Vernon is Mr. Perfectly Fine. There are moments where the façade slips, like when his breakup is brought up during a fansign, or somebody asks about it on Weverse. But, for the most part, he does his job and he does it well. He performs. He produces. He looks like the breakup hasn't affected him at all.

That Vernon can still function is true. That he's unaffected isn't.

This is what you know:

Vernon will be better off without you. A long-distance relationship was never going to be easy. Add in the factor of coming from two vastly different entertainment industries? Yeah, the two of you would have never worked out. You're doing more harm than good. Breaking up with Vernon is the kindest thing you can do to him. He'll get over you eventually.

You are wrong on all accounts.

This is what Vernon knows:

He loves you. Plain and simple.

He wants you. He can't remember a time where he hadn't; he can't imagine a time where he won't.

He will let you leave, let you walk away, if you think that's what's necessary. But he refuses to think that it's right. That it's fair.

In a perfect world— or at least a world that's just a little bit nicer to the both of you— he would get to keep you.

That much is true.

🎧 — “your friends, and your brain, and your morals, and your conscience have all trained you not to respond. but i'm gonna go against the grain and i'm going to suggest that the next time you get a message from the one you love, the only person in the world you love and can't talk to, that you respond.”

11203km • 17m ♫ John Mayer - Edge of Desire

11203km [🎸] welcome back. Liked by 11203km

11203km never left. — 🐻‍❄️

🎧 — “life is just too short to keep playing the game. 'cause if you really want somebody, you'll figure it out later. if you love someone, don't say a word. just come over.”

[FIN.]

[felassan]

David Gaider: "It occurs to me, after reading posts getting it spectacularly wrong, that there are a lot of misconceptions over how game studios organize and, in particular, who makes the actual decisions about what ends up in your game. Much of it is by folks who don't *try* to get it... but not all, surely. I'll explain it a bit, but a big caveat: I'm going to talk in generalities and roles. Actual titles vary (a lot) from studio and studio, and the bigger a studio is the more segmented their departments (and thus management) is going to be. Even so, most studios, big and small, kind of work the same. To start, you're going to break your devs up into at least three groups: design (what is the game? how does it work?), art (what will it look like?), and engineering (making it go). There can be a lot of cross-over and some departments that don't fit into a project structure (QA, Marketing, etc.)"

Rest of post under cut due to length.

"There's going to be someone in charge of these groups - these are usually called "leads" or "senior leads". The actual title varies. The Design Lead could be a Lead Designer, for instance, or it could be a Creative Director and a Lead Designer is what they call someone further down the chain."

"These leads all report to a Project Director, someone who's job it is to manage the project as a whole. Now, this part gets a little dicey. Depending on the studio, this role can be anything from more production-oriented (they control the schedule) to an outright auteur who micro-manages everything."

"More importantly, it's the PD who hands down the project goals to the Leads: the strategic goals, the needed features, the shape of it all, etc. The Leads then figure out how their department is going to tackle those, and work with each other. If the Leads conflict, it's the PD's role to solve it. How much autonomy or ownership those Leads have is, like I said, really up to the individual PD and that studio's culture. Even in the case of a PD who has a lot of authority over the project, however, they still report to the studio leadership (unless it's the same person, like in a small studio)."

"The studio leadership is going to be giving the PD their marching orders, often in the form of those strategic goals. If there's a publisher involved, that's where the studio leadership is likely getting those goals. The PD, then, ends up being the person who has to negotiate with everyone above."

"What does this mean? If the studio or publisher has concerns about the project, they're calling in the PD to explain. If the project needs more time or resources, it's on the PD to explain to them why and how and when. If there are a lot of layers above the PD... yes, it's a looot of meetings. So while the PD is managing up, the Leads are managing down. With big projects, that means managing the "sub-leads"... those in charge of the individual sections of their department. It'd be unmanageable otherwise, and the bigger the project the more of these there are going to be."

"What does this mean? Well, let's look at the way BioWare broke up Design (as of 8 years ago, anyhow). Design consisted of Narrative Design, Level Design, Systems Design, Gameplay Design, and Cinematic Design (who worked in tandem with Cinematic Animation, which actually fell under the Art Lead)."

"The sub-leads are handed their goals by the lead, and work out how they're going to produce their particular corner of the game and also, more importantly, how they're going to work with each other. Conflicts between sub-leads are handled by the lead, as are ANY conflicts with other departments. What conflicts could there be, you ask? Dependencies, for one. "I can't do X until Y is done, but Y is someone else's job". Or scope. "We need 20 doodads but the sub-lead said they only have time to make 10, what now?". Even outright differences in vision. Big projects means room for a LOT of egos. If you think this is easier with a smaller (or indie) project, the answer is "yes, but not really". The roles are still necessary but often get combined into one person. Or outsourced, and someone still needs to manage the outsourcing. Things fall off over-full plates. It's a different kind of hard. Anyhow, the point of all this is: the further you go down the chain, the smaller the box you can play in is. The less you have actual say over, and even then that say is subject to being overridden by ANYONE above... and must still play nicely with the needs and goals of the other departments. You also need to keep in mind that projects are constantly in flux. Problems that were thought solved need re-solving. The team falls behind schedule and scope needs to change. You are constantly in a dance, within your tiny box, trying to figure out sub-optimal solutions that cause the least pain. And there will be pain. Shit rolls downhill, as they say, and when the project encounters big issues that means those high up have the sad job of figuring out how to spread it out and who can afford to take the hardest hit. If you're that one, you take it on the chin and you deal. This is the job. Lastly, I'll re-iterate: not every studio works this way, exactly. The roles exist, sure, but are not divided up so neatly or as easily identifiable. Even so, this should give you an idea what "lead" and "sub-lead" mean... and perhaps help you imagine what it's like existing further down the chain."

[source thread]

[cherienymphe]

Suburbia X

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, blackmail, voyeurism, stalking, breeding kink, eventual violence, age gap, brief side of Bucky x reader, babysitter!Peter, mommy!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

~

“Thanks for coming.”

That was what you finally said to Peter after you both had been sitting on your couch for what felt like hours. In truth, it was only about ten minutes, but the silence was so tense and heavy—and you were so nervous and terrified of the young man in front of you—that the time didn’t pass normally in your mind.

Peter wasn’t wearing his glasses today, and without them he looked beyond only twenty-three. Or maybe that was all in your head. Maybe the reveal of his true character and nature made him seem so much more intimidating…and in turn, older. His dark curls framed his face as he gazed at you, patiently waiting for you to say what he was no doubt eagerly waiting to hear.

“Well…” he ran his eyes over your face. “Over the phone I asked if this was about our talk, and you said sort of, so naturally I became curious.”

You nodded at that, glancing away from him and taking in the silence of your house. Your girls were asleep, and you envied them in this moment. You envied their innocence and their complete ignorance of what was going on around them and their own part in it. You would never in a million years tell them what you were about to put yourself through just to protect them and their quality of life, but you hoped they’d grow up to understand the lengths you would go to for them.

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“I wanted to tell you face to face that you were right,” you finally said, looking at him.

Peter’s face was hard to read, but there was a noticeable glint in his dark eyes that made your heart stutter. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he straightened, and it made him appear taller. You felt so small and insignificant beneath his gaze, and you desperately tried to remember what you were doing and why you were doing it. Peter had seamlessly shifted the power dynamic—and in the worst way possible—and you desperately needed to have the upperhand again.

“When I chose to be a single mom…I did it with no regrets and because it was genuinely what I wanted.”

Peter leaned in a bit, and you spoke up.

“...and so…determined to prove something, I think that I never even really considered the possibility of more. Of more helping hands, of more comforting figures in their lives, of more…love that could be given to my girls,” you continued, looking between his eyes. “...and me.”

Peter wasn’t saying anything, and you felt a stab of panic, wondering if he saw through you.

“You were right. You are so good to them…and me, and it’s terrifying not only because it’s new but also because it’s you.”

You abruptly stood, turning away from him.

“You’re so much younger and I hired you and Peter, you have to understand,” your voice cracked as you stared at the wall. “You have to understand how I’m feeling because this makes me look and feel like some predator, like-.”

You cut yourself off when familiar hands took your arms, forcing you to face him, and you watched the way Peter’s expression softened with one look at your face.

“I know that I said some unkind things, but this situation is very tricky and scary and has the potential to really change my life in a way that can’t be undone or at the very least not for years and years to come-.”

“I know that,” he whispered, finally speaking again. “Trust me, I understand-.”

“You say that, but if this doesn’t work out, you're not the one who’s going to have to deal with the fallout. Do you truly understand how people will see me? It doesn’t matter that this was reciprocated. Cougar will be one of the nicer words I’ll be referred to as…”

Your words died in your throat as Peter gently shushed you, one hand coming up to graze your now tearful cheek. The way he looked at you told you that he believed everything you were saying, but you couldn’t be sure. He leaned in a tad, and on instinct, you turned your face away. Your gaze lowered to focus on the floor, and you felt Peter’s breath on your face as he sighed.

“No. You’re not the kind of woman to just jump into something like this, and I should have known that,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “I should’ve known that you would panic and freak out and follow your initial instinct of rejecting this in every way you can.”

The younger man rubbed your arms, hands gently sliding up and down over the fabric of your sleeves, and you shuddered.

“You’re smart about things, and it’s why I love you,” he murmured, making your stomach churn. “I should have thought about that, gone about this differently.”

You finally met his gaze, and your heart dropped to your stomach at the way he looked at you. It reminded you of that night—or what you could remember from it, anyway—and the morning after and the day at the restaurant. One of his hands tightened on your arm, and you swallowed at the position you put yourself in.

“...but you don’t understand what you do to me,” Peter chuckled.

It was light, and his teeth winked at you, and his eyes gleamed in a way that terrified you. It didn’t matter what you believed because Peter believed he was in love with you and was the one for you and was the best father for your girls. His mind was made up, and you felt that you should’ve accepted as such when he went through such great lengths to back you into a corner.

He handled this whole ordeal like a man with nothing to lose, and you supposed that in a way, that was true. In this scenario, you were the one with way more to lose. If this ever got out, you would be the villain in this story, and it was something that Peter had so eloquently thrown in your face.

“I don’t think I can say I regret confronting you like I did at the restaurant,” he confessed, his thumb brushing along your lip. “...but believe it or not, I didn’t take pleasure in putting things into perspective for you like that.”

So that was what he was calling it.

“I don’t take pleasure in hurting you in any way, even if it is only making you uncomfortable for a short while, but I needed to make you understand. Understand what you mean to me and what I would do to have you.”

When his lips gently brushed along yours, you let him kiss you.

“You don’t even know the things I would do for you—the things I have done for you,” he whispered into the kiss, and you couldn’t stop your form from trembling.

Peter noticed, and he made a humming noise.

“There are a lot of things for you to fear in this world, but now that we see eye to eye, I’ll never be one of them.”

You felt tears kiss your eyes as he tried to kiss you again, but spoke, effectively halting his movements.

“It’s not you I’m afraid of, Peter.”

A lie.

He seemed to understand what you were getting at, and he chuckled again. The dark-haired man pulled back some to gaze at you like you were so silly, and you hated how boyish that smile made him.

“You’re it for me, Y/N. Don’t you get that? Hmm?”

He held your gaze with his own dark one.

“Whatever comes of this, you’ll never have to doubt my loyalty. I’m going to be by your side when things inevitably progress into something more public, and I will make sure that whatever those…” he took a deep breath, lip curling over his teeth. “...women put you through, it will be worth it.”

His brows drew together as he fought to make you believe his words.

“I swear to you, now that it won’t hold a candle to coming home to me everyday. I’m going to make you so happy that whatever they have to say won’t mean a thing to you.”

Peter kissed you again then, deeply inhaling.

“I’m not going anywhere…”

You knew that those words—if nothing else—were true, and that was what you hated.

You stood with your arms around yourself as you watched Peter bring a suitcase into the house. You had prepared yourself for this, anticipating by all of his actions so far that Peter was not one to take things slow. Or at least, he didn’t want to take things slowly with you. Besides, if you were going to get your hands on every copy of that tape he possibly had, then you needed to be up under each other’s noses.

You needed him to be comfortable enough to bring his things—his laptop—into your house and not spare your proximity a second thought. When he caught your eye, you gave him a gentle smile, and while he was slow to return it, he eventually did. You took your time in nearing him.

“I know how nervous this makes you,” he told you, and he reached for your face. “It’s okay. We’ll be discreet for a while, and I’ll gradually make myself at home, and when the time is right…”

He trailed off, a secretive smile dancing on his lips at the thought of going public with you one day.

“Thank you,” you finally replied. “You don’t even understand how much that puts me at ease, Peter. Especially since I know how difficult this is for you.”

The look he gave you encouraged you to elaborate, and so you did.

“While I might not completely understand it just yet, you do love me, and it can’t be easy hiding a relationship with someone you care about so much.”

You noticed the way his face fell a bit at that, and you reached out to rest your hand on his arm.

“I don’t doubt that you want to navigate like any other couple in the world, but you’re being considerate of me and how this will affect me, and it means a lot.”

You stepped closer, and you watched Peter’s eyes drink in the action.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered to him.

At that, he didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you played with the fabric of his sweater.

“...and I’m sorry that I let my fear and panic prevent me from seeing that before.”

You watched him take a deep breath, dark eyes still trained on you.

“It’s okay,” he quietly told you. “I forgive you for that, you don’t have to…”

He shook his head.

“Don’t apologize for it.”

You took his hand, and Peter was eager in threading his fingers through yours. He pulled you along up the stairs to unpack, and you told yourself that smiling in his face and kissing him with your eyes closed and telling him what he wanted to hear was the easy part. As you walked down the hall—Peter taking the lead—you reminded yourself that the hard part was only just beginning. 

The real challenge would come in cohabitating with him like he was someone you cared about. The truly hard part of all this would come when he wanted to shower together and wrap his arms around you in bed and pull you against him like you were any average couple in love. 

When he wanted to have sex with you.

This would go beyond just acting, but you would have to fully embody someone else—someone who cared about this man almost as much as he cared about you but was simply hesitant and nervous. You would have to take on an entirely new persona, and to make it all the more challenging, you had to do it in enough time to get what you needed before he wanted this relationship to go public.

…because you didn’t care what Peter said.

He wasn’t going to be content with keeping this between you forever.

You hadn’t missed the way he’d said Bucky’s name at that restaurant. There were more sides to Peter you hadn’t been privy to yet, and you hoped to God that you never would be, but you knew without a doubt that there was a part of Peter that wanted to show this entire town you belonged to him. Peter had never struck you as that kind of man, but then again, there were a lot of things about him that you absolutely would have never guessed.

As you helped him unpack what he brought over, you tried to keep your face even at the sight of clothes and toiletries and nothing else.

“I’ll have to tell Nat that I rehired you, of course,” you said to him, hesitantly glancing his way. “It seems silly to have you hide away any time she comes over.”

Peter found that funny for some reason, and he nodded.

“Of course. What are you going to tell her when she asks why?”

You stewed on that for a moment.

“I haven’t decided on that yet. Maybe I’ll tell her that I just really need you around, right now,” you eventually came up with, and it wasn’t a lie.

“Well, it’s not a lie,” he said, voicing your own thought. “You do need me.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of your neck, pausing in his unpacking to give you his attention. Peter’s intentions were pretty clear, and you didn’t doubt that said intentions had been on his mind from the moment you’d uttered the words ‘you were right’ earlier. While you knew that it would eventually come to that—probably as soon as hours from now—you weren’t mentally prepared. You couldn’t make your body do that, right now, and so you hurried to ruin his mood.

“I’ll have to tell Bucky the same…”

Your words had the desired effect, and you relaxed a little when Peter froze. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck to rest his chin on it, and while you had expected several things, you hadn’t expected the next words that came from his mouth.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Mr. Barnes to come by here, anymore.”

You couldn’t stop your frown at that, and you pulled away just a little to turn and face him. Peter’s visage was entirely serious, and your frown deepened as you realized this. His expression didn't relent at all the longer you stared at him, and you were the one to break the tense silence.

“Peter…”

“I’m serious,” he confirmed, moving to finish unpacking the rest of his clothes. “Now that our relationship has evolved, I don’t want him coming by here anymore.”

“...but he’s my friend.”

The younger man gave a scoffing bark of a laugh at that, and you watched him run his hand through his thick curls.

“Friend,” he repeated. “Yeah, sure.”

The humor disappeared from his features by the time he looked at you again.

“He’s your friend because you didn’t want more with him. If you had, he wouldn’t be your friend right now, and we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”

You blinked at that.

“The kind that would involve me telling you to break up with him because I actually dislike sharing.”

His tone was serious, and you swallowed as he stared you down. Your lips parted, and you snapped them shut, thinking over your next words carefully.

“If I suddenly stop being friends with him, it’ll be very suspicious, Peter.”

He stared at you for what felt like too long, expression unmoving before his lips suddenly pulled into a small smile.

“While true, I imagine that him walking in on you coming around me would be even more suspicious.”

His words had you blinking furiously, but before you could respond to such a thinly veiled threat, you heard a familiar cry. The curly-haired young man didn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing in favor of checking on whichever twin had woken up from her nap first.

You were still tense from his parting words, and telling yourself that you needed to pick your battles wisely, you softly sighed.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright ask Peter to delete that video. It was so brazenly stupid that not only would Peter accuse you of not trusting him, but he might even suspect this whole thing was an act. He’d be right, of course, and it was why you had to convincingly get him settled into a comfortable lull. 

…and you had to do that by committing to doing things you weren’t comfortable doing.

Your fingers clawed at your sheets as Peter’s tongue swiped between your folds and pressed itself into your core. Your girls were down for the night, and you knew that as soon as they were, and dinner was done and put away, Peter would waste no time in reaching out for what he felt now belonged to him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened,” he’d murmured to you, humming at the taste of wine on your lips.

You’d concluded that you needed something in your system if you were to commit to this.

“The sounds you made, the way you tasted on my lips,” he’d breathed into your mouth. “The way you felt wrapped around me.”

He’d taken a reprieve on the stairs, just pinning you against the wall and kissing you. His hands hadn’t stayed in one place for long, touching every inch of you that he could, and when he seemed satisfied, he continued in pulling you towards your bedroom.

“Fuck,” he’d swore into the kiss the moment you were through the threshold. “I can’t wait to be inside of you again.”

The moments that followed bled together into one long endless pleasurable moment. You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that Peter was so skilled and so determined to make you come undone. You found it shockingly easy to surrender to his ministrations, unable to swallow down your moans and whimpers as he ate you out.

His tongue—so warm and firm—greedily lapped at you, and his fingers pressed into your thighs so hard that you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises in the morning. Your chest arched as you squirmed on the bed, and unable to help yourself, one of your hands found it’s way to his curls. Peter hummed against your cunt, and you knew that he liked that.

You confirmed as much when he reached up to find your other hand before forcing it to find a home in his hair right next to your other one. You were completely naked—Peter having wasted no time in getting your clothes off of you—but your nudity did nothing to cool you down. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you absentmindedly recalled that Peter was only partially undressed.

It seemed that he only just remembered that too, and when he pulled his mouth away from you, you were ashamed of the stab of disappointment that tore through you. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, and you blinked as you watched him sit up before getting undressed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he did, pulling his lip between his teeth as he rejoined you on the bed, a hand wrapping around your ankle. The wine in your system definitely helped you to relax, but if you were honest, it did more than that. Playing this part came to you easier than you anticipated, and that worried you a little. Maybe even scared you a little.

The younger man was gentle in running his hand up your leg, fingers dancing along your skin as he did so. His dark eyes appeared even darker if that were at all possible, and in this moment, it was evident that Peter cared about nothing more than he did the thought of being inside of you again.

Glancing down, you caught sight of his cock—erect and wet at the very tip and just waiting to fill you up.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Peter murmured, reaching for your face.

When he kissed you, you didn’t swallow down your hum in time, and your throat vibrated as it climbed out of your mouth and into the kiss. Peter’s entire body covered yours as he made himself comfortable on top of you, and—playing your part—you rested your hands on his back. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you.

Peter didn’t waste any more time.

Forcing your knees to hook over his arms, Peter lifted his hips and dipped his cock into you with one smooth thrust. A choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time. Your hands slid over him, unsure of what to grasp onto, and you couldn’t stop the small whimpers that started to fall from your lips.

Peter was fucking you with the assured confidence that he finally had you.

The strained grunts that left his mouth were in time with every push of his cock, and you were almost ashamed of how wet you were. Although, you supposed that it would only prove to help you in convincing Peter this was genuine. You were literally dripping around him, and you repeatedly reminded yourself that you were playing a part. That you were doing what you needed to do to earn his trust and get him to let his guard down.

Although that was easier said than done when his lips kept seeking yours out. Every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasped again when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there. His toned chest repeatedly brushed against yours with every movement, and the gentle stimulation against your hardened buds made you shudder beneath him.

Every time he dipped his cock into you, the sound reached your ears…and his too.

“You’re dripping for me,” he whispered into the kiss. “I love how wet you are.”

You wanted to come up with something to say to reel him in more, but you were genuinely at a loss for words. It was hard to focus on anything besides the feel of him stretching you out.

“I’m so glad you came around, So glad,” he murmured, kissing you over and over and over again. “I really…I really didn’t want to do things the hard way.”

Your bed shook beneath you as Peter pounded into you, his curls tickling your skin.

“You may not believe that, but it’s true.”

He finally paused, holding himself inside of you as he pulled his head back some. He stared into your eyes—both of your chests heaving—and he looked between them as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I meant it when I said I don't take pleasure in hurting you. That’s not something that makes me happy,” he said through uneven breaths.

He slowly pulled his hips back before snapping them against you again, and you gasped. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, carefully watching your face.

“...but I’ll do what I have to. You understand?”

He didn’t give you time to respond.

“I’m smart, and you know it, and I know you know it.”

Your nails dragged along his skin as he thrust into you slowly, taking his time in pushing the length of him into you.

“So if all of this is just you playing at something, then you need to be prepared to play at it for the rest of your life,” he whispered to you, staring into your eyes. “...because you don’t know the things I’ve done to protect you.”

Your wide eyes looked between his at that.

“...and I’ll do worse to keep you.”

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: I am back to my old tricks...which means I write from the most random of POV's just because. (I once wrote a chapter from a dog's POV so like, GP doesn't even really count.

It was supposed to be a "friendly" padel match, but then Max's competitive nature took hold. 

That's what GP got for taking Max up on his offer of showing him around Monaco for a day after three weeks spent  in the South of France with Laura and Franny for their summer vacation.

At least Franny found Max and Ariel's banter hilarious…and his daughter had also definitively gotten a kick out of the completely pink bakery Ariel had found for them to have breakfast at. 

Now here they were at the Padel Court, Francesca happy with her Nintendo Switch and GP and Laura were pulled into a… friendly game of Padel. 

Just that it wasn’t feeling very friendly. 

Playful barbs with Ariel  quickly evolved from playful to downright vicious. GP found himself watching, torn between amusement and horror. 

"I didn't know you took padel matches this seriously," he commented wryly to Max.

He should have known better. 

Max shot him a cocky grin, the look in his eyes promising carnage. "I take everything seriously," he said, a hint of swagger in his voice. "Especially when I’m playing against her."

GP followed Max's gaze to where he was staring at Ariel with a look that was equal parts challenging and flirtatious. GP couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, the competitive edge between the two of them was palpable. 

"Looks like a bit of a one-sided rivalry there," he observed, watching as Ariel just grinned at Max.

"Trust me, it's not," Max muttered darkly, his gaze not leaving Ariel. "She may look all sweet and innocent, but she's a demon on the court. And the worst kind of trash talker.”

GP snorted at that, finding Max's description of Ariel amusing. "A demon, huh? I find that hard to believe," he teased, raising an eyebrow at Ariel, who was currently preparing to serve.

Max huffed, his eyes never leaving Ariel as she served. "Just watch," he said. "You'll see what I mean."

GP did indeed see what Max meant.

There was carnage. 

Mostly because Laura, who had never played Padel in her life before, and Ariel, who was Max’s favourite Padel partner… wiped the fucking floor with both of them.

Gianpiero learned firsthand what Max had meant about Ariel’s trash talking skills. Within minutes they were thoroughly demolished by both women playing together. It became even more apparent that this 'friendly' game, was anything but friendly.

Even his wife, who was usually pretty reserved and calm, had taken on a competitive edge that Gianpiero had never seen in Laura before. 

And Ariel, well...she was downright ruthless.

Max, too, seemed surprised and a bit displeased by the unfolding events. GP could almost see the competitive fire burning in his eyes as he watched Ariel and Laura effortlessly rack of point after point…unless it was becoming pretty obvious that they had no chance whatsoever to leave this court with their dignity intact. 

"You call this friendly?!" Max grumbled, glaring at Ariel, who was currently on the other side of the court with a smirk on her lips.

Ariel shot him an innocent look. "I call it playing to win!" she calle back, her tone deceptively sweet.

Max grumbled in response, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "This isn’t playing to win," he retorted. "This is downright domination."

"And domination wins games," Laura chimed in, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction. GP couldn’t help but chuckle at her comment, finding the whole situation quite humorous. Max, however, looked disgruntled.

"Why are you this bad at it, Max?" Franny asked from the sideline, looking up from where she was deeply engrossed in her Nintendo Switch. Even the 10 year old saw Max’s lack of talent and GP needed to bite back a laugh.

Max shot her a disgruntled look, his pride a bit wounded. "I'm not bad!" he yowled in protest. "They're just...surprisingly good."

Gianpiero couldn’t help but chuckle again, amused by Max's frustration. Franny gave a smug shrug, her attention returning to her game. "Sounds like something a bad player would say," she said casually.

Max stared at her, his mouth open. 

GP bit back his laughter, but Ariel didn't. She was grinning, bright red hair pulled back into a bouncy ponytail. 

Max's padel abilities had also not been helped by the flippy tennis skirt Ariel wore which had resulted in Max nearly smacking himself in the face with his racket at last twice.

Which in turn though had definitely amused GP and Laura though. 

Max shot Ariel a withering glare when he noticed her grinning. "You think this is funny, don't you?" he demanded, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Ariel tried to look contrite, but the twitching upturn of her mouth gave her away. "A little bit, yes," she admitted, her tone smug.

Gianpiero chuckled quietly, watching the interplay between the two. This was far too entertaining.

Max frowned at her response, his irritation further fueled. "It's not funny," he grumbled, his eyes narrowing. "It's humiliating, that's what it is."

Ariel shrugged, her grin widening. "Well, you're the one who chose to go up against us," she pointed out cheekily. "You should expect to be humbled every now and then, Mr. Two Times World Champion."

Max glared even harder at her for the reference to his championship titles, clearly bothered that she was rubbing it in. But he couldn’t deny her reasoning. It was his own hubris that had led him into this situation.

"Shut up," he grumbled. “You’re supposed to be on my side, you know."

"Nah, last time I checked, you were the one who wanted to partner with GP," Ariel said brightly. "Don't worry, next week I'll help you wipe the floor with Danny again."

Max grumbled at her response, but there was a hint of resignation in it, realizing that she had him there. The fact that Ariel was able to so easily rile him up was both aggravating and admirable.

Gianpiero could feel the tension between the two, but couldn’t help but find it slightly amusing. "Danny is shaking in his boots already, I'm sure," he chimed in wryly.

Max shot her a half-glare, his annoyance still evident. "You're enjoying this way too much," he grumbled, his pride wounded from the ass kicking he had just received.

Laura chuckled at his comment, a satisfied grin on her lips. "And you're taking this way too seriously," she countered, her tone playful. "It's just a game, Max."

Max huffed in response, clearly not appreciating her casual brush-off. "Just a game, she says," he muttered. "As if we didn’t just get absolutely trounced."

"You're acting like a child," Ariel chimed in, her voice tinged with amusement. "Just accept that we won, and move on. I promise you, you'll survive."

Max shot her a scathing glare, his irritation at her constant taunts starting to show. "And you’re acting like a sore winner, you know that?" he retorted.

"I'm not a sore winner," Ariel shot back, her tone light and playful. "I'm just thoroughly enjoying your reaction to losing. This is the most fun I've had in months."

GP chuckled at her comment, watching the banter between the two. Max looked about seconds away from pouting like a petulant toddler.

Max gave an exaggerated eye roll, his irritation evident. "Oh, I’m glad my misery is such a source of amusement for you," he said dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Ariel snickered at his response, clearly enjoying his annoyance. "Oh, it’s more than amusing," she said, her smirk widening. "It’s downright hilarious.”

Max scowled, unable to come up with a retort that wouldn’t prove her point. His face was a picture of annoyed frustration, as he looked from Ariel, who grinned like the cat who got the cream, back to Laura and Gianpiero, both wearing similar expressions.

His eyes landed on Franny as well, the preteen clearly taking great pleasure in the way events had unfolded. Max let out a resigned sigh mixed with a hint of a pout, realizing he was seriously outnumbered.

"Come on, I'll buy you some ice cream to soothe your ego," Ariel said drily. "What do you think, Franny?"

Franny looked up from her game, her eyes lighting up at the mention of ice-cream. "I think ice-cream sounds great," she said, her tone cheerful.

Gianpiero chuckled at the innocent expression on her face, clearly amused by the turn of events. Max huffed in defeat, clearly outvoted and outwitted.

"See?" Ariel said, her tone dripping with triumph. "Everyone wants ice-cream. Except for the biggest child here, of course."

Max shot her a withering look, the pout now on his face. "I'm not a child," he protested, but there was little conviction in his voice. 

Ariel just rolled her eyes.

GP later reflected that the most amusing thing about the whole afternoon probably was the fact that by the time Max got two scoops of vanilla ice cream with extra sprinkles, all was alright in his world again.

Max savoured the ice cream with a satisfied expression, the sweetness seemingly having a soothing effect on his wounded ego. GP watched as the petulant expression on Max's face was slowly replaced by contentment, a change that was as amusing as it was fascinating.

"Feeling better now, champ?" he couldn’t help but tease.

Max huffed, but there was no heat behind it. He gave a small nod, his attention still focused on the ice cream. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream.

Ariel chuckled beside him, clearly enjoying the fact that Max was so easily pacified. "Ice-cream does fix everything.”

[melancholicstation]

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST: OPEN DOOR! - a jack schlossberg one-shot. 𓊇ྀི

summary: your open door architectural digest interview with your husband jack schlossberg takes an unexpected, and downright sensual turn in your shared kitchen over the most innocuous citrus fruit. note: this is part of the husband!jack schlossberg universe, here are other works with wife!reader and husband!jack: like an american, husband!jack hc's, and comfort husband!jack hc's

warnings: orgasm denial (male), cunnilingus, smut, 18+

words: 1,830

"Hi AD, We're Jack and Y/n, welcome to our house"

Filming for Architectural Digest, as glamorous as it might look from the illustrious glow of a MacBook screen, was not all it cracked up to be. AD had been relentless in their pursuit, contacting both you and jack's agents on more than one occasion proposing the opportunity for you guys as a couple to be featured on their open door celebrity series.

Initially as a couple you had turned the opportunity down, with Jack working tirelessly on the campaign and you being busy with negotiations on your new book deal: it just wouldn't have worked. But after your wedding, which was featured in Vogue, the title "The Bride Wore Vintage John Galliano And The Groom Wore JW Anderson. Inside Their Cape Cod Ceremony" The open door offer came around once again and it came at just the perfect time.

A few weeks back you and Jack had been getting back into the grove of normal life after returning from an illustrious three week honeymoon in the Greek Cyclades: a honeymoon spent in mostly nothing—bar itty-bitty specs of linen as makeshift bikini's, and gucci by tom ford beachwear.

Getting back to AD, you'd woken up before Jack: which was funny because when you first entered the relationship Jack was always the one who got up early, maybe you've been a bit of a bad influence in that department. Nevertheless you spend about five to ten minutes neglecting to wake Jack up: instead opting to trace the sepia hairs littering the top of his neck while quietly leering at his chest hair—looking like an absolute creep, but I mean, he was your husband after all so—that's gotta minus at least 15% of the pervy factor, right?

When he did wake up—and subsequently clocked your staring contest with his chest, he proceeded to lean over like a total and utter drama queen to piously cover himself with the sheets like a 30s model getting a tasteful nude portrait of herself to give to a lover.

You neglected to do any makeup only choosing to smear some P50 lotion on you and Jack's face—you swore he was like a toddler sometimes always wanting to mirror whatever weird shit you put on your face. Once the hair, makeup, and stylist team for AD got there you and Jack were effectively separated for the next few hours, which you did not hear the end of via jack's incessant complaints about the distance between him and you over iMessage and many, many unhinged gif selections sent to your iPhone.

But alas, you two were reunited for the open door interview and it started off generally normal...

First, you two were situated on the front steps of your townhouse and asked when and why you chose the house,

Jack started for you, "We moved here about five years ago, and it was the second house we both had looked at ever in our whole lives, and it so happens that it was the first house we ever bought as a couple"

"Seems clandestine to me", the interviewer cheerily replies to which you both glance at each other playfully while he speaks.

Taking the hint to speak up, you share what drew you to the home adding, "I love the city, but I also love wood and I love light and I love antiques, so I just fell in deep love with the place. For us it struck the perfect balance of being in the city while not feeling like the city was breathing down your back all the time, it can be hard to find a place like that here."

Making your way into the apartment, you and Jack were told to take a short break for about 2 minutes while the videographer got a good layout of the place, and scoped out the best lighting angles to capture it.

Your home occupies the first floor of a Meatpacking District block, and is a few blocks away from the Hudson River—which more than encourages your Husband's borderline addiction to paddle boarding. But, hey you routinely get to see your man walking home in an ultra-tight swimsuit sopping wet, so who were you really to complain about such things?

Despite loving the city, you found yourself devoted to the charm of those old French farmhouse interior's that you'd looked at in your mom's old magazines. And it felt particularly poignant to you guys as a couple—being that your first couple of dates were in the south of France.

You and Jack didn't want the space to come off as just another midcentury modern sterile, ultra-functional flat. So, you opted for sheetrock to be removed from the walls and ordered a large pair of antique door double doors for the living space off 1stdibs.

Just as abruptly as the break had started, it subsequently finished and the cameras began rolling once again. The interview dragged on until you two had finally gotten to the kitchen which was the last room and the last portion of interview.

You started the space off absolutely waxing poetic about the olive-coloured room,

"This is our little kitchen, we painted it horribly together. And then needed to implore a professional painter to fix our many, many painting faux pas." you take a breath to giggle slightly with Jack at your shared delusional confidence that you could paint a whole room successfully.

It was then Jack's time to pitch in, while the camera man did a slow zoom across the decor littering the marbled countertops—causing you and Jack to both notice a certain stone bowl containing a citrus fruit that you know for certain neither of you put there before AD came. Weird you thought, you weren't notified that set-dressing came with the interview.

Leaning on the counter Jack laments, "I love baking, I cook a lot too. I love limes"—to which he dramatically takes a lime into his hands, spinning it between his large fingers, "They're great and I love them so much, and I like to present them like this in my house."

You try not to let the emotion of total bafflement present on camera at Jack straight up lying for the hell of it about the limes being an integral part of your shared household decor—he neglects to mention that they're set dressing and that he's moderately allergic to them.

Closing of the interview you fake lead the interviewer out of the house to close out the interview, only to let them back in seconds later. The interviewer, Mark, who seems to be a genuinely sweet guy thanks you and Jack for your time, informing you that the crew should be packed up in 10 minutes, and the camera guy only needs another 5 minutes to get b-roll footage.

Once all the pleasantries have been fulfilled you lead, or rather playfully drag Jack by his crisp collared Prada button-up into your kitchen.

"Jack, I mean seriously what the hell was that, truly? I know you know you're allergic."

"M'sorry it was just too good not to pass up! I mean what kind of weirdos just but a bowl of lemons out and nothing else? it's barbaric just from a feng-shui standpoint alone!"

"Godd you're such a weirdo. Come kiss me and make it quick so I can forgot that very fact, please" you beckon him to you, placing your chin on his chest with your hands on his chin. Which, by the way is blemish-less—god, you absolutely hated men sometimes.

"Oh come on! you only kiss me cause I'm a weirdo, let's be real." Jack chuckles yet fulfils your request. He kisses you like a man starved which was quite concerning since you had only parted from him today for two hours—absolute max.

The intimacy got more and more heated until well... maybe you currently had your loafer clad feet either side of jack's head while he ate his idea of a mid-afternoon desert.

The very motion of Jack placing the flat side of his tongue against your clit sent you into an absolute. fucking. meltdown. To the point where the moans you made no longer represented someone who was cognisant that they're were about fifteen people working for AD rooms away. You try to compose yourself, which provides a stark contrast to his relentless endeavour on your clit that seem to be ever increasing.

As if to praise your restraint of volume his thumb gently strokes the inside of your thigh—up and down... and up and down. Sensing your impending climax Jack speeds his motions and adds a digit that outright seems to antagonise you—almost trying to tease a mind-numbing orgasm from you. And because you're weak in the face of his machinations, you of course do.

On your come-down you notice a glaring visitor—a quite large bulge in his pants and decide to take pity on it and by looking at the saccharine, loopy look on his face, him as well.

But you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't make him work for it at least a bit.

Continuing your motions on his bulge: feeling it's twitches and reflexes as intimately as you feel him breath while sleeping on your chest at night—

That was until the door to the kitchen was knocked upon,

"Sorry to be a bother but could you guys get that bowl of limes?—the crew is absolutely swamped trying to pack up for the road."

It was at this point in your movements on his bulge that Jack was starting to get loud, a bit too loud for your current situation, so you did the one thing that could shut him up—bar actually suspending the current movements on his mound: but that wouldn't be half as much fun would it?

Quick thinking led you to quite forcefully shoving a medium sized un-cut lime into his mouth to drown out his moans: it sure as shit worked but his puppy dog-like eyes made you feel bad for your prior roughness—you settled on a quick caress of his hair as a pseudo apology.

"Oh of course it's no trouble at all, we'll go grab it now!"

Hearing the footsteps move further and further from the kitchen you glance at Jack: a pitiful, overstimulated sight really. But a sight you deeply enjoy no less.

Picking up the bowl of lemons you grab his hands, afixing each hand to a parallel side of the stone bowl,

"Why don't you go give them back that bowl of limes you love so much and then maybe we can get back to what we were doing?"

Overcome from the intense stimulation Jack nods, willing to do anything that brings him present relief,

"Good boy" you coy, swiping off your own juices from his mouth and chin, then finally taking the un-cut lime out of his mouth.

tags: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel

[thewalrusespublicist]

I’d love it if you could give your thoughts on john getting married a week after paul. do you think it was just a matter of outdoing paul and having ppl talk about his wedding instead or something entirely different. thx!

That moment John realises he's going to have to commit to the bit…

Nah I'm joking, but also a little bit not.

I mean the more you think about the question of why the hell John did that, the more complex it gets (and why it’s taken me so long to reply lol). Trying to boil it down to three essential points from least to most important though, I’d say it was the commitment to the ‘ballad of John and Yoko’ plotline, drug fuelled competition and then the fundamental reason underpinning it all which was the overwhelming fear of abandonment/‘thwarted love’ between John and Paul.

So let’s start of with the simple one - the ballad of John and Yoko. Part of John and Yoko’s entire brand was that they were the most in love couple in the history of love and that their love story was the symbol of progressive society and the activist movement in the late 60s. That type of brand and the undercurrent of superiority complex and fragile narcissism underpinning it can’t do with a competing love story pulling focus. Therefore, John and Yoko would have to quickly correct that by getting married as soon as possible to draw focus away from them.

Then there’s the competition. John and Paul were famously competitive with each other, but somewhere towards the late 60s, this starts to shift a lot more into the personal than it had before, probably partially due to heroin. In this landscape of drug use and high competitiveness, everything including personal happiness is a competition to win. This would be especially true when it came to dating women due to its ties to concepts of masculinity and Johns insecurity about Paul’s looks. In John’s mind, I think he partially believed Paul getting married was a strategic one-up move that John had to outdo.

But to me, the real root of the transition into personal competitiveness is actually what I believe this was all about this entire time: abandonment.

(Some of this will be similar to the breakup podcast series but I heavily agree with them so it can't be helped.)

Now competition is par the course for John's creative partnerships, but he does have a specific pattern when he feels his partners are becoming too independent. Whilst you need a lot of salt for Dakota Days, John Green/Charlie Swan does occassionally say some very insightful things which ring true, one being John's behaviour toward Yoko:

John did have a long-established pattern of early support followed by sudden withdrawal. What he required above all was Yoko's undivided attention. So long as her ideas kept her focused on him, he would support them. But as soon as she started off on her own, John would withdraw his energy, knowing that this would force her back to him.

It's not a 1-1 situation and other factors are at play with the John and Yoko dynamic but similar behaviour was present with Paul around Yesterday. Coming back to the late 60s, John was in a similar predicament. According to Pete Shotton, John was feeling isolated in 67' with George and Paul developing their own lives. Then came the engagement to Jane Asher and the arrival of Linda. It's quite notable to me that John remains so salty and annoyed about Linda and not in a 'god why did Linda pick him not me' but in a 'why did he pick Linda??' way. Add to Paul coming into his own musically to the point John has to 'swallow his jealousy' and you have a huge mess for John psychologically.

This is a view shared by many on here but the shift to personal is to me part one of the two pronged withdraw and burn strategy. Fearing that he was going to be abandoned, John withdrew emotionally from his dynamic with Paul and tried to individuate himself. As highlighted by later statements by both of them, their construction of their own identities did not allow for severance from each other. Having no option in his mind to separate from Paul and spurned on by his paranoia, his belief system morphed into a karmic yin-yang in which only one of them could be strong and successful.

The second part of the strategy (that still bleeds in with the first) is to burn and humiliate, in this instance to a new partner, and rip apart everything they had built. My big question with John is how much does he believe in what Yoko and he are doing? I think somewhat, but I'm not convinced that at least part of it is to smash apart the Beatles brand and everything he and Paul had built apart (the dead rat story especially made me really reevaluate some things). I'm not saying that John and Yoko weren't madly in love and that some of John and Yoko's own weirdness didnt factor into her being there all the time, but the constant 'Yoko has to be here, has to talk for me, 'I'd sacrifice all of you for her' feels partially performative and intentionally provocative (especially the last one, why say that when no one is really attacking them other than to make your friends feel like shit?). Paul reactive response in kind reflects that this strategy worked. It's crucial to remember that Paul brought Francie Schwartz into the studio first. This isn't about 'being too in love' to be apart, it's about getting back at each other and as Lina put it, ''playing these games' in escalating ways.

In this environment the marriage is the flipped table on the chessboard. Paul isn't playing and they can't take this back. He is now a married man whose first priority will be his wife and the children John knows he's always craved. Considering his responses to his imagined abandonment by Paul, there's no way John is jinxing his relationship with Yoko nor getting left alone at one altar as it were when there was another ready and waiting to go.

[cloudlessly-light]

Get closer to me (One-shot)

A/N: To the wonderful @bes22 who asked for this idea, I hope you like it!

Title: Get closer to me Summary: They had to be careful; they were still a secret. But she walks around the office in the black dress that he had bought her, so how could anybody really blame him when he couldn’t keep his hands off her? Word count: 2,7k   Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, grinding, feelings, breathplay, Aaron once again has a dirty mouth and Emily loves it, also a tiny bit of softness, idiots in lust and in love, dom Aaron(at least kind of)

He’s watching her through the window of his office. He does that a lot, probably more than he should. But he often finds that he can’t help himself, his gaze always drawn to her. It had been like this for a long time, his attraction towards her having simmered just under the surface for almost as long as he had known her. And as it turns out, she wanted him too.

It was new, this thing between them, still a secret, something he wanted to protect. No one knew about their nights together, their long talks at dinner or the way he shared parts of himself that he hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Haley. Some part of him knew that she was it, that he had found the woman he would give up everything and anything for. But he hadn’t told her that, after all, it was still new, no label put on what they both knew was something real. They didn’t really need it, an unspoken agreement between all they needed to know that that there wasn’t anybody else.

So he lets himself watch her. Because she was his to watch. She was always beautiful to him, but tonight she was looking particularly delicious. He had watched her all day, had wanted her all day. The black dress she wore was just shy of being inappropriate for the office, her cleavage bordering on too much, the fabric tight around her waist and hugging her hips before falling softly to just above the knee. It was a dress he had bought her and all he had been able to think about was that he wanted it off her. To top it off she decided to wear black heels that were just a smidge too high to be functional, the heel just slim enough to make him take notice.

She had a change of clothes with her. He knew that because he had watched her pack her bag and get dressed that morning. So he knew that she was ready if they would end up needing to leave for a case, but today they hadn’t. And today she was going out with Penelope and JJ. All three of them had shown up ready to go straight to dinner, but he had only been looking at her, his only thought being how lucky he was, how much he wanted her.

He still couldn’t believe she wanted him too. He had never had the chance to explore much when it came to desires before her, but as they fell in lust she showed him new realms of pleasure. She had shown him that his desires weren’t something to shy away from, and instead she reveled in his desires with him.

As luck would have it, no immediate case came up and as it was nearing five he knew all of them were getting ready to pack up, more than ready to enjoy their weekend.

He couldn’t leave yet, and a part of him hated the pile of files still on his desk that he hadn’t finished. Because he had been too busy staring at her. He doesn’t think she realizes the type of distraction she was.

When he finally forces himself to get back to work he shuts the blinds halfway to keep himself from being able to see her and sits back at his desk a sigh. It’s tedious, the paperwork, his hand soon cramping as he signs his initials on document after document. It’s not until a soft knock interrupts him that he looks up again, and he sees her in the doorway. Gorgeous.

“I just came to drop these off, the girls are almost ready to leave.” Emily smiles softly at the way he’s looking at her, still not used to the admiration on his face when she sometimes catches him off guard. It had been easy, falling for him. Almost too easy, as she let herself be happy for the first time in her life. He made her happy.

She had always known he was a good man, but she had no idea just how good until she got to see more of Aaron and less of Hotch. Aaron was kind, a dry sense of humor and a bit of a tease, gently poking fun of her cooking all the while kissing the pout from her lips. He was gentle and caring and everything she hadn’t imagined herself falling for. But he was also sexy, his domineering persona not something to be forgotten. Especially in the bedroom. It had taken some time before he showed her that side, but once he finally did she found herself finding a whole new world of pleasures, of want.

“Close the door.” He told her softly and she felt her breathing hitch at the way his tongue wet his lower lip. The soft click of the door seems loud in the otherwise quiet room. Her eyes flit to the half-shut blinds and he smiles with a nod. “Rossi left an hour ago, no one should walk by.”

“I don’t think we have the time.” She puts the files in her hand on the desk as he backs away from the heavy furniture and turns towards her. His legs are spread, his suit jacket off and she finds herself taking in the way he looks so effortlessly powerful. Then he motions her closer, and like her body had a will of its own she walks around the desk.

“Are you excited about tonight?” He asks conversationally as his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer and closer, until she’s standing between his spread legs.

“It’s been a while since we had a girl’s night.” Her voice comes out breathy and her hand cups his cheek. “What are you doing? We can’t do this here.”

“Do what?” He asks with a grin that’s close to feral as he moves enough for his thigh to slip between both of hers and then pulls her to sit. The skirt of her dress hikes up, the skin of her smooth thighs being revealed to his slow-moving hands. He lets himself touch the outside of her thigh, the other hand still holding her waist.

“We can’t have sex in your office, someone might see.” She warns but her hands still steady her by gripping his shoulders. His thigh presses up against her and she just barely swallows down a low gasp at the pressure on her clit. She wasn’t sure how he always managed to drive her insane with want by just a few touches, but tonight was no different. Especially not when he was looking at her with eyes close to black, his warm touch secure as he ripped her panties from her.

“We’re not going to have sex.” He continues while pocking the scraps of fabric like it was nothing. “But you’re right, someone could see, so you’re going to have to be fast.” Once her ruined underwear was safely tucked into his pocket raised his hand to cup her cheek like she had done only moments ago.

“What do you want me to do?” She leans into his touch, her heart beating wildly in her chest at the danger of being caught. He doesn’t respond, instead his hand moves to the back of her neck as he pulls her into a kiss that she easily falls into. Her tongue finds his and when she lets out a sigh against his lips his thigh pushes up against her again.

“You’re going dancing after dinner, right?” He asks and the confusion on her face makes him smirk as both his hands move to her hips to grip firmly. “Men are going to come up to you, going to think they have a chance with you.”

“They don’t.” She answers immediately and his fingers twitch against her hips as his cock stirs in his pants.

“Tell me why.” He drags her against his thigh, back and forth slowly and watches as she bites her bottom lip to keep from moaning.

“Because I’m yours.” She gasps as she feels her wetness stain his slacks and her hips roll against the strong muscle of his thigh. The low growl vibrates in his chest, the sound nothing short of wild and she flushes in return.

“That’s right.” He whispers against her ear before placing a gentle kiss just below it. His lips are soft as they trail along her neck and down her chest, his tongue tasting her skin as she starts to grind on his thigh a little faster. “You’re mine.”

This time she can’t keep herself from making a sound and she mewls softly at his low tone. She knows she’s going to ruin his slacks, and she presses her clit harder against the rough fabric at the thought. He was going to leave the office smelling like her, marked up by her and that thought drove her insane with arousal.

“That’s it sweetheart, fuck you’re soaking my thigh.” He speaks lowly against her ear as he lets her chase her pleasure on his lap. His hands still rest on her hips, helping her move. “You’re going to think about me all night, and if anyone even dares to lay his hand on you, you’re going to think about this, about how you’re humping my thigh because I told you to. Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Jesus, Aaron.” Her hands are fisting his shirt, wrinkling the fabric and her hips stutter. “Fuck, it feels good.” Every time her clit dragged against his thigh, pleasure shot through her body. It shouldn’t feel this good, but he always had this effect on her, always managed to drive her wild from desire.

“I know baby,” His coos softly, always amazed that she lets herself go like this with him. “You look so pretty like this, Em. So pretty when you’re coming, so fucking gorgeous when you’re desperate for me.” One hand moves from her hip and wraps around her throat instead, holding her gaze as he tenses the muscle of his thigh. When she moans and starts to grind down harder he smiles.

“Fuck me Aaron.” She pants, one hand already moving between their bodies towards his slack but he shakes his head.

“No, you get my cock tonight.” His hand tightens slightly around her throat and her eyelids drift close. “You’re going to get off, you’re going to clench around nothing aa you do and later when you’re out you’re going to think about everything I’m going to do to you when you get home.” He kisses her quickly, something soft that feels out of place and she tries to chase his lips. “Because you’re mine, this pussy is mine.” He’s painfully hard in his slacks, his own hips rutting up automatically in search of friction, but he knew they didn’t have time, and he wanted time, wanted to worship her body. And he would happily wait for that.

“Yes, Aaron I’m yours, all of me is yours.” She can feel the coiling in her belly start to spread through her body as he continues to whisper filth against her face. His hand tightens around her throat again, making her lightheaded and she only rolls her hips faster against his thigh.

“Do you like the thought that someone could see you? That at any moment someone could walk by and see you like this?” His teasing tone makes her whine and she nods. He knew that she had an exhibitionistic streak, that the danger was something she got off on, but they had never been this brazen. “Do you want them to know how you willingly give yourself to me? What a pretty little thing you are like this?”

“Baby.” Her mind is reeling, her gasp is cut off by his hand squeezing tight enough to cut off airflow and she twitches against his thigh.

“That’s it, my good girl.” He pushes some of her dark hair behind her ear as he speaks against her face. “Do you want to come?” His hold on her throat relents so she can answer through heaving breaths.

“Please.” She breathes as his hold on her throat loosens. Her hips stutter and he groans lowly at her slight desperation. “God I’m so close.”

“Gorgeous thing, come on do it, soak my leg baby. Show me how much you want me.” He encourages her as she starts to tense above him. His hand slips from her neck and down to her hip again, helping her move. “Mine Emily, do you hear me, you’re mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” She mumbles as she chases her release. The pleasure finally snaps and she muffles her loud cry against his shoulder, her teeth sinking into the muscle there as she trembles on his lap. Through the blood rushing through her ears she hears him grunt at the sting of her bite but he doesn’t stop her. Both his hands grab her hips to help her ride out her orgasm, his hushed words are still mumbled against her ear until her body collapses against his.

When his hand cradles the back of her head she nuzzles into the crook of his neck, mind and body fully occupied by him. It’s not until she feels like she can stand and she realizes that JJ and Penelope are probably waiting for her that she slowly sits up.

“That was… something.” She smiles lazily, a flush still on her cheeks and her eyes heavy lidded from pleasure. “But if this is how we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fair.” He presses a gentle kiss against her lips. “I can’t be blamed though, not when you’ve been walking around like this all day.” When she blushes his thumb gently caresses her cheek.

“I don’t want to go out now.” She admits with a soft laugh and he chuckles as he helps her up to stand.

“Yes you do, you’re going to have fun.” He fixes her skirt as he speaks. “And I’ll wait for you at home.” His fingers move through her hair, carefully putting her back together until she looks like she did when she first walked into his office.

Her eyes are soft as she looks at him, adoration etched into her smile at the way he treats her like something fragile, that he gives her everything she needs between hard and soft so easily.

“I’m falling in love with you, you do know that right?” She admits like it’s not the first time and she watches as he stops from fixing her slightly creased sleeve and smiles.

“I know.” He pulls her close to him, one hand banding over her lower back. “Just like you know that I’m falling in love with you.”

She smiles into a kiss, something that’s gentle and full of promises and when they finally break apart it’s because the sound of two sets of heels are getting closer. It’s nothing short of a miracle that she’s managed to sit in the chair across from him and he’s hiding the wet spot on his slacks behind his desk when the impatient knocking starts as well as two blue eyes squinting at them through the blinds.

“Em, what’s taking so long?” Penelope huffs as she opens the door. “Are we interrupting something?”

“No, not at all, we just got to talking.” Emily stands up to join her friends.

“About what?” JJ asks curiously, always just a tad too nosey for her own good.

“Just an old case.” He lies easily and gives them all a polite smile. “I’m sorry we must have lost track of time. Have fun tonight, but not too much fun.” His eyes find Emily’s and she bites back a grin.

“Can’t make any promises Boss Man. I’m feeling wild tonight.” Penelope laughs before waving at him. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too.” He nods his goodbye and listens to the happy talking slowly getting further and further away until he can’t hear them anymore. Slowly, he lets his finger drag across the wet spot on his thigh with a smile as his still hard cock jerks in its confines. But he was a patient man, he could wait.

It would be worth it.

[sonknuxadow]

they werent lying that knuckles series barely has knuckles in it

[skrunksthatwunk]

so i read cyrano today. here's some parts i thought were funny in/out of context

cyrano's debut comes with bullying an actor he doesn't like offstage. two acts later he sends a band of musicians after him just to get them off his hands. he also tells them to tell this actor he sent them

and, of course, marmaladegate

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

thinking again about my beloved tracy thephiladelphiastory. what it means for a girl disillusioned by her father to say 'the right time to decide on someone is never.'

[consanguinitatum]

First off, I want to say thanks to @80smaniac for writing such a thoughtful piece on my article about MacWizard Fae Oz, John Binnie, Scotland Matters and David Tennant. It was indeed a remarkable coincidence that I just so happened to run into that flyer, which was the catalyst for a renewed search and a possible (though still not confirmed by the man himself) solution to the mystery of why he was in that photo of MacWizard Fae Oz.

I haven't yet done a deep dive into Scotland Matters (or indeed any of David's three other 7:84 plays) at A Tennantcy To Act because to be honest? They're all quite the undertaking. I've been able to dig up quite a lot of information about them, and it's precisely the amount of information I have that makes me feel a bit overwhelmed. My brain's short circuiting like: "Where to start? How to start? There's toooo much OMGggggg...." I'll get there, I'm sure, as soon as my brain decides it's ready to start laying it all down!

But I think I can - albeit only partially - address your wonderings about how Scotland Matters addressed homosexuality in the early 1990s. It was part of that whole growing movement about gay rights, safe sex in the time of AIDs, and calls for the establishment of institutional and governmental safeguards as opposed to looking solely within the gay community for those guardrails. And of course, fighting the ever-present blame and discrimination. You'll be happy to know David wasn't in that group (as if he'd ever be)! He's always walked the walk. In drama school at the RSAMD in 1989, he joined a school theatre company called Theatre Positive+ Scotland, formed by students to help raise money for Scottish AIDS charities like the Scottish AIDS Monitor.

Now on to Scotland Matters in particular.

The play was a collaborative show, made up of ten playlets by nine different authors, each one focusing on a different aspect of Scottish life. No one was more important than the other, and the 7:84 being the radical politically-motivated organization it was, it even held a series of at least three after-show discussions featuring prominent Scots about subjects like class, culture, identity, nationalism, sexual politics, and football.

As I mentioned in my article about MacWizard Fae Oz, David played (alongside many other roles in the play) Ben in the playlet Away w’ the Fairies by John Binnie. about two boys who meet while watching Death in Venice and fall in love.

Without giving too much away about Scotland Matters, I can share here something director Iain Reekie said to Scotland on Sunday about the play around a year later on 14 Nov 1993:

"...we did a play in Edinburgh called Away w' The Fairies, about two men falling in love with each other. At one point the two got their clothes off and embraced. An elderly man in the audience jumped up and shouted, "oh, no, no, not that!  That's disgusting.  You're not going to do that!"

So now you know David got his kit off onstage in Scotland Matters, and now you also know how it was likely generally received.

Thanks for reading A Tennantcy To Act - I really do appreciate it, and I'm so glad David's fans enjoy reading my geeky little research on his career!

Collecting David Tennant's Theatre Programmes: What The Butler Saw (1995)

Everyone who follows me over at A Tennantcy To Act over on Substack knows I collect David Tennant's theatre ephemera (programmes, flyers, etc.) and love to chat with others who do, too. But I've never delved into the particulars of collecting.

Until now!

For the first time ever, I explore collectibles related to one of David's early plays. For this inaugural dive, I've chosen the 1995 production of What The Butler Saw.

Join me!

[tsubasaclones]

This girl in my class today was like "I wanted to go into package design but I hated this project so now I'm rethinking it but it's too late to change my major" like girl 😭

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[slvttyplum]

suguru could admit when something was too much for him; that was the part of his personality that everyone loved. he was blunt with his thoughts, and that's why he could admit that your pussy was too much for him.

he had his trials and errors with sex, but he was a god in bed, flipping and tossing you around like a pancake on a pan, and you were all for it, but he always stopped an hour deep.

yes, he could go a couple of hours, but that was only when he "released" himself beforehand. your body, it was sexy, but he could manage, but whenever his dick was inside of you, he couldn't bring himself to keep going without almost passing out.

losing his breath and holding onto your hips like you were going to float away, taking deep breaths while recollecting himself. he felt like an old man, always catching his breath and telling you to slow down when things were getting too fast.

"ah… okay, just a little slower. i cant fucking breathe." smiling as you bounced away, having you do some of the workload but still embarrassed that he was about to bust a load again three minutes after the first one.

your pussy was so good it had him shooting blanks after a while. it gripped onto him in ways he couldn't comprehend and didn't want to; he found it scary, but you got the job done every time, and he hated it.

"baby, are you okay?" turning your head a little to look at him because of his pace slowing down and his forehead resting on his back, cursing himself for his cum slowly dripping out, trying to stop, but it was already too late.

even when it was just you lying there, taking every bit of him and listening to his sexy groans, he was still finishing before the deadline and was forcing himself to overstimulate.

why? why did you have to eat his dick up like this? why did you have to feel so good, a little too good? he just wanted to go at least thirty minutes without finishing, but between your face and the way your pussy clung to him, it wasn't possible.

it was a challenge, but he was going to try to pass it every time. he had a job, and that was to please you.

that was his ego talking. he got you off every time; he just hated the fact he couldn't hold out, and his ego was bruised, but you were going to be there for him every time, keeping it a secret that it turned you on that you had this effect on him.

nothing turned you on more than hearing his blabbering mumbling behind you, trying to hold out, your face in the pillow, all smiles.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[fairy-angel222]

𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.