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caffeinewitchcraft · 4 months ago

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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)!

#my writing #aita reddit parody #third person #original fiction #supernatural #halloween #aita parody

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beloveds-embrace · 4 months ago

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Idgaf abt how military works sorry yall but imagine the 141 gang having to do mandatory charity and no, not even Ghost can opt out of it regardless of how he says he’s honest to god not fucking fit to be visiting sick patients. But alas.

But they end up meeting you- frail, fragile, and sick you, no visitors around you. Though you look at them with curiosity and admiration, you keep yourself away, almost as if you don’t want to bother them.

You can’t help looking at them, though. You’ve been sick all your life- born to a mother who left you on the doorsteps of an overcrowded orphanage, left alone often and long for your body to just… fail you. You don’t think you’ve seen outside the orphanage walls and then these hospital grounds since your birth. You would be dead now if it weren’t for the CEO of the hospital taking pity on you after you turned eighteen and the orphanage cleaned their hands off you.

And so, you can’t help but envy them just a little. Strong, agile people in the military, bodies fit and healthy. Despite knowing they are always putting themselves on the line, constantly in danger, you can’t help the longing you feel. Longing you don’t realize is clear as day in your eyes.

The one to approach you first is the man you thought one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He introduces himself as Kyle, and despite your silence- your interactions with others that are not doctors or nurses are far and few, and you are painfully shy- but he is nice. Gentle. Easily keeps the conversation going despite. He is so easy-going he has you grinning and laughing in no time. It catches the attention of a the Scot with a mohawk, who joins in by sharing even wilder stories. And then the man with the scary ghost mask, so often in their stories, comes to your little crowd. He is big, scary if the nurses’ reactions are anything to go by, and yet the only thing you’ve ever truly been afraid of is dying with a life not truly lived. So you don’t flinch or cower from him, merely ask if he has anything interesting to share with you.

The last you speak with is John Price. Captain John Price. If there is a man that can embody a bear, it has to be him. You are sure of it. Especially when you witness him smacking the back of Kyle’s head lightly after a teasing comment.

Maybe your chances of a long, fulfilling life are slim but today, just for today, you allow yourself to envision a life with them. Such a strange desire, a useless and wistful one.

“Thank you, for today.” You tell them quietly, when it’s nearing time to leave. Your hands are held in Kyle and Johnny’s, frail and weak compared to theirs. You smile at them, squeezing lightly. “I think this is the most happy and content I’ve been all my life. I won’t forget today.”

And in return? Neither will they. How could they ever forget you, the sweetheart in the hospital bed, your sickness keeping you away from the joyful life you deserve?

The won’t forget you. Not at all. And when you start receiving gifts, polaroids and letters and texts, you already know who is sending them to you.

It makes things just a little easier- your life just a little brighter.

Other works + help me choose a title for this!

#cod x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x you #tf 141 x reader #cod #ghost x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz #gaz x reader #poly!141 x reader #if u squint???#im sorry this has a lot of irl inaccuracies but i cant be botheref #the lack of dialogue is bc i dunno how to write accents #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #noona.writes

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kurooh · 7 days ago

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★ MAKE HER TAPOUT ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, ino takuma, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso fucking you till one of you gives out, or not!

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, creampies, gentle choking, cunnilingus, facesitting, backshots, overstimulation, jet sex, dirty talk, talking him thru it (ino), brief edging, filming.

xoxo, juno: SHES BACKKK 😝

GOJO SATORU # neither, it’s a competition

“aw, sweetheart,” satoru reaches up to thumb away an involuntary tear from your cheek, “you cryin’?”

“no,” you sniffle, and the shake of your voice betrays you. “o-of course not, satoru.”

mirth sparkles in his diamond blue eyes and he hums contentedly, as if he’s pretending to believe you. but of course he is—right now, he has to.

god, you were dumb enough to challenge him once he’d riled you up, and now you’re paying the price. a persistent burn courses through the muscles of your thighs, the exhaustion more than palpable now that you’ve been bouncing on his dick for so long. a messy puddle of cum has pooled around the base of his cock and sticks to your skin each time you sink down, serving as a constant reminder of how long it’s been.

normally, satoru would laugh in your face, then help you fuck him, but he’s choosing to be quiet because seeing you struggle is even more entertaining.

“you don’t have to lie, baby,” he squeezes your hips, allowing his eyes to trace the curves and slopes of your body, to commit them to his long term memory. “y’know, i love watching you ride me. it’s just . . oh, never mind.”

aggressively, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare down at him with dewy eyes. even when you’re crumbling into pieces, you manage to remain angry at him. “say it, satoru.”

an irritating smile splits across his face and he bounces his hips up just as you move down, just to punch a gasp out of your lungs. “‘s just that you were so fast earlier, now it seems like you’re struggling after all that talk.”

his cheeks are scarlet and growing darker as something triumphant basks him in its glow. you push at his chest and grind on him more insistently, even though the stimulation feels like bolts of electricity on your sensitive clit. “f-fine, is that what you want? for me to prove myself?”

“maybe.”

satoru watches smugly as you up the pace of your hips, repeatedly slamming down on his cock until you’re ready to give up. he grabs at your soft tits, and pinches at your perked nipples meanly, enjoying the way your cunt spasms around him.

a few tears race down your cheeks, and you glare weakly at him, not yet ready to admit defeat.

“my girl’s so pretty,” satoru whispers, harsh as he rolls your tender nipples between his fingers, “doesn’t she know when it’s time to give up?”

“shut up,” you groan, lower lip wobbling pathetically. this struggling is a hundred times better than being pressed into the mattress and fucked senselessly. “just be quiet, toru, stop running your mouth.”

“me? running my mouth?” he sounds taken aback, mouth agape as he regards you with a offended expression that settles across his flushed features. “sweetheart, please. look at you—”

not too firmly, you wrap your hands around his throat. just the sight has a new kind of arousal flaring inside your body, one that makes your clit feel incredibly sensitive after a single grind of it into his pelvis.

“you’re talking too much,” you hum, voice a little singsongy now that the tables have been turned, “can’t you just let me have this?”

satoru quirks an eyebrow, still challenging you despite blushing darker. “y-you’ve got some serious nerve,” he pants, voice coming out weaker than he’d like it to, “just fuckin’ wait—”

now it’s your turn to rile him up. “whatever,” you roll your eyes, the tips of your nails lightly digging into his soft skin. “maybe if you shut your mouth, i could let you go.”

“oh, you know that’ll never happen,” satoru scoffs quickly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to let go just yet. “you just focus on showin’ me what you’re made of. if you can.”

GETO SUGURU # you ‘tap’ out

when you’d invited geto to make a guest cameo on your onlyfans, you didn’t expect him to pull out all the stops to show you off . .

you wail pathetically, each and every one of your limbs feeling like jelly now. the consistent smacks of his hips into your ass bounces off the walls and only adds to the cacophony in the room—suguru has practically destroyed your pussy, his thick cock reducing it into a wet mess that squeezes him involuntarily whenever he makes noise.

“shit,” his chest heaves behind you, and he flicks his bangs away from his eyes to squint at your phone, “don’t cha look so pretty with me inside, sweetheart? come on, don’t make me lift you up.”

weakly, with as much strength as you can muster, you raise your head to blearily look at your phone screen. it’s constantly lighting up with new, colorful messages in the stream and rather generous donations—suguru has helped you pull in hundreds more than a solo live would’ve.

-> kchomo: she’s beautiful!

-> tfushoji: pussy made of steel

“s-sugu, ah—‘m still a little sensitive,” you struggle to gasp out, each deliberate plunge of his cock punching the words out of you. before you look into your reflection to confirm your suspicions, you already know he’s got a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“that’s even better,” he coos, smacking your ass and slipping his hands beneath your hips. “i’m sure everyone’s, ngh, enjoying the show . . but god, who wouldn’t, especially with a face ‘n body like that?”

suguru groans as he drags you up, positioning you to take his cock at an impossibly deeper angle. you choke on your own drool, hands slipping off of the floor as he moves you however he pleases.

“p-put me down!” you squeak awkwardly, feeling previous loads of cum race down your inner thighs in creamy rivulets, “what’re you—”

“jus’ giving them one last show before it’s time for me to take a bow,” his pierced tongue darts out to lick the sweat glistening at his cupid’s bow. “think you can take it? again?”

it’s more of a challenge rather than a request.

even though you’re spent and dizzy from the scent of sex as well as the feel of it, you’re ready to push through. after all, how long has it been since you’ve ever been fucked this good?

“bring it on, suguru,” and you don’t regret it for a second, until his nails claw at your skin when he steadies himself inside you, gearing up to go out with a bang.

“that’s my girl,” your eyes roll back into your head when he develops a pace right out of the gates, all too eager for someone who’s covered your back in cum more than a few times. “fuck, she’s so good. takes a fuckin’ dick like it’s nobody’s business.”

“‘m supposed to—oh my god, right there—be a pro..professional.”

a professional pornstar? more like a fancier way of saying you’re a hungry slut—but suguru doesn’t give a damn, not when you’re sucking him deeper and throbbing around him, almost synced up with the frantic pounding of his heart.

“riiight there, huh?” he can’t help but tease, voice taking on a mocking tone that seems to make the room burn a few degrees hotter, “is this where you want me, sweetheart? all up in this pretty lil tummy?”

oh, he even splays his fingers across your stomach and digs his heel into the soft spot above your pelvis, a move he’d familiarized himself with after combing through your account. for lack of a well formed verbal response, you nod your head, lips parting around breathless moans and pleas. “fuck yes, sugu. i need it, i need more.”

wispy black hairs cling to his forehead, held in place by sweat instead of their usual tight bun. since he’d stepped into your room and greeted your audience, suguru had become quite disheveled, and the thought of complaining never crossed his mind. no, he’d been too lost in you, his longtime porn crush whose page he checked almost daily—he feels his eyes squeeze shut when you cry out his name so loudly your throat will be sore tomorrow.

“oh god, suguru,” you’re entirely limp in his grasp and powerless to the wet squelches of your cunt as he rearranges your insides, “i think i’m gonna fuckin’ cum soon, ‘m so close.”

-> satojo: HELL YES

-> brattybunnny: the way he holds her >>

-> juiceboxbussy: im crying they’re so hot

ecstasy shoots through your veins like electricity, and suguru’s ability to hold back crumbles into nothing when you start to throw your ass back onto him. it’s something that derails the pace he’s set and the plans he had, but you deserve to be spoiled. honestly, after this live, you’ll definitely be inviting him on more often.

like a boat’s propellers, your feet kick out into the air and your toes curl as the tsunami wave of it all starts to crash over you. “i’m—sugu, ‘m gonna fucking cum!”

“all over my cock, baby,” suguru groans, too lost in your pussy to feel the beads of sweat racing down his temples or the burn of exhaustion settling into his muscles, “let—let me feel it.”

so you do, abruptly creaming all over his cock with an obscene whine that tears out of your throat and blesses the ears of every member of the audience. he’s finally able to let go as you’re coming down, pulsing cunt milking him of every drop he can possibly offer.

suguru nearly collapses on top of you once his empty balls clench, but you’re already struggling to hold yourself up without his help. the donations are much more luxurious now that the audience can get better views of your blissed out face and his matching reddened expression.

“let’s start saying goodbye,” he suggests, wincing as he pulls out of you. the air is hot, but it feels like the arctic outside of you—well, at least he can watch the deluge of cum spill out from between your thighs. you’ll be leaking for hours, and some kind of nasty pride swells in his chest at the thought of it. “honey, c’mon. gotta get cleaned up.”

-> satojo donated $150

-> thukuna donated $200 and said: js busted a nut

-> brattybunnny: i know that dick was good asf

-> juiceboxbussy: girl she’s knocked out 😭

NANAMI KENTO # you tap out

“ken,” you gasp just as the thud of a loaded suitcase resonates through the entire jet. the flight crew’s busy loading up what’s supposed to be an empty corporate jet, while kento’s associates busy themselves with odd tasks he’s doled out to them. “but the seats—”

“can be replaced,” he huffs irritably, not liking the fact that you’re busying yourself with pointless worrying over the seats. “sit down, honey.”

“i know that,” nervously, you glance toward the front of the jet, scanning your surroundings to make sure nobody’s coming in. “i, um, don’t want to make a mess before everyone comes in. i mean, what if you get fired because of it?”

as you ramble, you’re unconsciously pulling away from your seat on his face. kento’s gold wedding band catches the light of the sun as he immediately grabs your thighs, yanking you back where he wants you. his patience is wearing thin and if you don’t sit on his face right now, god help him—he’ll start thinking about devouring you in front of his co-workers.

“ah! kento, i don’t think this is a—” you’re powerless now; with his strong arms locked around your legs, there’s no way you can escape. it’s so risky, so dangerous—but the fear quickly boils into arousal that pools like magma in your belly.

happily suffocating beneath you, kento can’t help but smile when he starts to slurp at your messy cunt. it’s obscene, the noises he makes—smacking his lips like he just can’t get enough, grunting as that familiar sweetness settles on his tongue.

your breath hitches in your throat. “k-kennn, baby, you feel so good—but, oh, we don’t have a lot of time.”

for one painful moment, he lifts you up and stares at you with nothing but hunger in his eyes. “remind me about that one more time,” low and menacing, the sound of his voice makes your pussy squeeze in anticipation. “let me enjoy my meal in peace, honey.”

with that, kento firmly sits you on his face once more, and resumes his impatient lapping. his tongue is both soft and rough, forcing a stream of uncontrollable moans out of you. his nose presses into your clit and makes every sensation hit you harder, leaving you a hot mess atop his face.

“move those hips for me,” he lets out a muffled groan, and his eyes roll back once he feels you comply. desperate as ever, you start to rock your hips into him at an unsteady pace—the shaking and trembling of your body throws you off course.

“ngh, like this?” kento’s ears seem to perk once he detects that current of hesitancy in your voice. it’s so cute, the way you’re seeking his praise; his cock twitches in his pants, buried under layers of fabric.

“just like that, angel,” he gasps for breath before going back in—this time, kento starts to sloppily make out with your pussy. his tongue pushes inside and flicks around, experimentally going deeper while he kisses at your folds.

“oh my god,” the words are a euphoric exclamation, the kind that comes before an earth shattering orgasm—but then it suddenly switches into panic. “oh my god, kento! y-you’ve gotta stop now, your co-workers, they’re—fuck, they just got here!”

kento’s never been one to allow himself to be rushed. your orgasm, you falling apart on his face—it is much more important than his damn co-workers. he’s made you cum fast before and he can do it again. despite your thrashing, he holds you down against him and amps everything up until you start to sob out his name, choking on each syllable.

“they’re gonna get on the plane,” you sniffle, finally accepting your fate. the leather seats will be soaking wet by the time everyone boards, but there’s nothing else you can do but cum. “ken, ‘m really getting close, ngh.”

you nearly lock eyes with one of his coworkers when all your muscles pull taut and bliss bursts out like fireworks in your body. oh, and out of it too—before you can register what’s going on, cum gushes from your pussy and squirts like rain all over his face. of course, kento drinks in every drop, careful not to waste even one.

your jaw’s hanging open as he licks you straight through your high, greedy as ever so he can purposefully make you squeal. kento’s grip on you loosens and he smirks when you scramble off of him, squeezing your thighs together as your body heaves for breath.

“oh, look at that,” he cheerfully glances down at the leather seats, “you didn’t get anything wet, sweetheart.” except for him, of course.

then, out the window. “those aren’t my coworkers, angel. they’re marshals to guide the jet,” slowly, he turns toward you, eyeing your sticky thighs—rather, what’s between them. “no need to quit so soon, hm? tell me what you want.”

INO TAKUMA # he ultimately taps out

takuma’s more than lost in your pussy—he’s too far in to pull out even if he tried. it always happens so fast, too; from the moment you put it in he nearly goes cross-eyed and tries to think of anything that could help him not to cum. it’s so difficult, though, especially when you’re purposefully squeezing down on him and using your oh so soft hands to urge him closer.

he’s done for.

“takuma, are you—ah—are you okay?” before he could realize what was happening, takuma had instinctively begun to jackhammer his hips into yours. “oh my—mmm, you’re fucking me so well.”

“yeah?” he pants out, fingers scrabbling at your ankle to pull you closer, “g-give yourself some credit too, baby, you’re the one taking it like you were made to.”

it’s just how he is, always stuttering back a compliment whenever you talk to him. a breathy chuckle passes through your lips and is immediately followed by a saccharine moan of his name, a sound that echoes in his head and shoots straight to his twitching dick.

“it’s so hard,” he gasps, feeling an inevitable tingle in his nose and behind his eyes, “so hard to keep it together when you’re lookin’ at me like that. shit, babe, you’re gonna kill me.”

each word grows more frantic with every pleased moan that leaves your lips, and takuma’s gotta force himself to focus on something else. he’d been taught to cum with or after you, a rule ingrained into him that even applies when he’s jerking off.

the tinkling of your anklet near his ear serves as the perfect distraction, until it suddenly reminds him of the sexy position he’s fucking you in. with one leg over his shoulder and the other kicking on the bed, takuma’s cock is able to push deep, into spots you can’t even reach with your fingers.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, plump tits jiggling from all the movement, and his face crumples when you shakily press them down. “‘m gonna cum,” you wheeze, arousal burning like fire through your entire body, “you’re suuuch a good boy, takuma, feels so g-good.”

“don’t say that,” takuma’s pleading with you, shaking his head frantically as his cock starts to throb, “don’t, you’re—hah—gonna make me cum too fast.”

“why not at the same time, honey?” your free leg starts to circle around his waist, drawing him in without leaving an opening for him to escape. “c’mon, takuma, ‘m all yours. just f-fill me up.”

this is an offer he can’t refuse, a ball he absolutely cannot drop—the shakes of his head turn into frantic nods as he accepts, scooping you up to pull you just a few inches closer before he falls off the edge. he’s the cutest, trembling above you and babbling out breathless sweet nothings.

you cum hard on his cock, digging your heel into his lower back as you reach your high. it tears through you and leaves you dizzy, shaking like a leaf beneath his strong body. takuma, on the other hand, is so lost in you that he’s tucked his face into your neck and gasps into your skin. everything is inaudible until he lets out a hushed whine, “ngh, mommy.”

“mmm, takuma,” your nails rake down his shoulders, leaving long red stripes he’ll be proud of when he looks into the mirror. “what was that?”

takuma closes his eyes against you and swallows against the shockwaves of bliss as he empties his balls against your cervix. “h-huh, baby?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI # you will tap out

toji’s unstoppable—once you’re on all fours and throwing your ass back on him, don’t expect to be able to walk without being carried for the next two hours.

“oh my god,” you sob out desperately, voice cracking when you try to speak, “t-toji, it’s—ngh, ‘s too much, i can’t—”

“doll, be for real,” toji snickers, almost out of breath. it’s been so long you can’t even feel your legs anymore, and he presses his large hands onto your squirming hips as if he’s trying to indent his touch into you forever. “you can take it. ya wanna cum, don’t cha?”

weakly, you look over your shoulder just in time to catch the wolfish grin on his face and the gleam of his pearly whites. his dark gaze scours your body hungrily, as if he’s on the hunt for something plump to sink his teeth into. sweat glistens on his chest, salt settled in the hard lines of muscle that define his body and showcase his strength. “if ya hadn’t been so fuckin’ impatient, i’d have made you cum earlier. but noooo, jus’ wanted to be all dumb, huh?”

“‘m sorry,” a scream nearly tears from your throat after another agonizing thrust of his powerful hips—his tip hits the soft, cushy spot deep inside of your cunt that always has you seeing stars. “toji! i didn’t mean to be a—fuck—a brat, i only wanted—”

“blah blah blah,” he groans, targeting your sweet spot with sharp, deliberate thrusts that make your eyes roll back into your skull. “jus’ shut up, baby. keep talkin’ and i’ll leave ya high ‘n dry.”

it sounds horrible—horrible enough for you to snap your mouth shut and just focus on taking his cock even though your hips occasionally jerk to the side. toji’s dick is huge, long and thick and unbelievably easy to go dumb on. your fingers twitch in the sheets, aching to scratch the lustful itch that torments your swollen clit; but toji won’t let you, not until he wants you to cum.

a long cry of frustration is released into the bed, and the corners of his lips quirk up in amusement. “aw, is it gettin’ to be too much for ya?” he croons, landing a few stinging smacks on your sore ass, “hope you’re not tapping out before i let ya cum, doll.”

“i said i was sorry,” bitterly, the words rush out. “w-why can’t i fucking cum, toji?”

a low wolf whistle trills out into the air. “because you like edging, nasty girl. did i fuck ya dumb enough for you to forget that ya asked me to do this shit to you, huh?”

that’s right. you had asked him to starve you of the euphoria briefly, but now it’s well past the limit. yes, fushiguro toji was no stranger to pushing limits—transcending physical thresholds to build his body into your favorite temple to worship—so naturally, he’s started to train you to do the same.

“that’s not fair,” you whine, feeling the tears building in your eyes, “haa, i’m so close.”

“don’t you dare,” toji hisses, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling you back easily. “you can wait one more minute.”

he’s cruel, going so far as to rub your clit with his rough fingers to make you waver as you wait for the tortuous minute to pass. heat burns across every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake—it’s impossible not to start trembling, teeth chattering as you try to fight off the unescapable high that only seems to move faster toward you.

“please,” you’re arching all over, nearly collapsing onto your stomach, but he’s got you right where he wants you. “h-hurry up, toji, i can’t hold it anymore—shit!”

“three fuckin’ seconds,” he grunts, the clapping of skin against skin growing louder as the seconds fly by. “‘kay, princess. go ahead and cum alllll over this dick f’me.”

you fall apart on his cock before he can even finish his sentence, cunt clenching hard enough to push him out as you fall forward onto the mattress. the smallest amount of cum squirts from your pussy, and that’s when he realizes he’s not quite done with you yet. toji licks his lips as he watches you writhe, settling onto his stomach to torture you all the more.

“toji!” you can’t help but squeal when he grabs hold of your hips and licks at your overly sensitive clit, his dark eyes rolling back when he feels your pussy twitching against his tongue. “ugh, wait, ‘m not ready for—”

“ya wanted to cum so bad, didn’t ya? so lay back for me, doll.”

KAMO CHOSO # can’t stop, won’t stop

“hah, ‘m sorry,” choso borderline sobs when he delivers another sloppy, trembling thrust deep into your cunt. you’re folded up and blurry beneath him, all because he can’t seem to control the onslaught of crystalline tears that pool in his eyes. “baby, it’s—you just feel so g-gooddd.”

rampant apologies run out from his mouth, but they never quite land, always fading into nothing by the time he finishes the sentence. it’s not like he means a single one, especially when he can’t stop rutting his hips into yours, chasing both of your highs.

“don’t—mmm, fuck,” you curse when the tip of choso’s cock kisses your cervix, sending a brief sting of both pain and pleasure through your nerves, “don’t worry about it, cho, ‘s okay.”

tears race down his pink cheeks as more build in his eyes, despite his frantic attempts to blink them away. “i jus’ can’t stop, you—you feel too fucking good.”

a wave of heat crashes through him when he sees your eyes roll back, legs squeezing around his slim waist in order to keep him inside you. you’re as eager for his cum as he is to give it to you, along with a final orgasm of your own. his cock may be purple with overstimulation by now, but how could that possibly matter when you’re on the brink of bursting at the seams all over him?

choso chokes on a moan and fucks you harder, ignoring the annoying beads of sweat that roll down his temples and paste his hair down to his skin. even in the middle of winter, just the two of you are able to heat the house up as easily as a furnace could.

“oh my—fuck,” your voice breaks when you try to speak, looking deliciously dazed when your bleary eyes finally focus on his own, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, cho, if you keep that pace—”

“fuckin’ give it to me,” choso begs, raspy voice edged with the intensity of ecstasy roaring through him, “jus’ one more time, just one more, we can—we can cum together, baby.”

he’s hiccuping over his words and losing control faster now that your hand’s tangled in his hair and pulling the way he likes. it stings, but he’d be out of his right mind if he asked you to stop—so instead, “harder, please.. ugh, just like that.”

“you’re such a freak,” you pant out, although you sound more than pleased to yank on his hair, “don’t tell me you’ll cum just from this?”

he swallows a lump in his throat and presses a hand to your lower belly, feeling around for himself, and soon enough, he’s able to feel the distinct swell of his cock inside of you.

“only if you cum all over me,” choso’s already delirious, mind full of thoughts of another orgasm even after this one. with you, he’s learned to control his refractory period, shortening it down to a mere two minutes that he tends to spend between your thighs. “please, you have to let me feel you, baby, it’s the only way—!”

“yeah? oh, are you gonna f-fill me up again?” heat floods your cheeks as your voice becomes more breathy, growing weak now that you’re hurtling toward your own high. “oh my god, ‘s like you’re trying to knock me up.”

something wild flashes across his face and takes place as a flickering movie behind his eyes. he has to pause, momentarily caught up in the idea of getting you pregnant. there’s something about the idea of your swollen belly and babies that really ignites a flame in the half curse—perhaps it’s all the more attractive because there’s a good chance he’s infertile.

“oh, fuck,” he sobs desperately, vision blurring with tears and his thoughts, “‘m cumming—ugh, ‘s all yours, angel, ‘m only yours.”

even as choso’s spilling white inside of you, his stuttering hips don’t stop once. now, he’s got a goal and he intends to achieve it, regardless of your cries of sensitivity. “slow down,” you whine, out of breath. “ch-choso, wait a second—it’s too much!”

“it’s not enough,” he grunts, shaking as he bulldozes through his own oversensitivity, “i’m not done, i have to—i need to put a baby in you.”

“i’m sure there’s five, choso, i need to take a second to bre—”

“just one more, i need to make sure. it has to happen, ‘m almost there. hold on for me, angel, please, i just have to make sure.”

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mareestoermers · 9 months ago

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i think we are all forgetting something when we talk about how toxic patrick, tashi, and art are — or when we decide one is “worse” than the other. they all have moments of seeing right through it, seeing each other’s toxic behavior for what it is, and STILL want and need each other in this possessive, envious, visceral way.

1. in the way beginning, tashi is clearly flirting more with art than patrick, and patrick is visibly annoyed. art sees right through it and even challenges him like “okay, let’s leave”, and has this little smirk on his face because he knows patrick won’t give up on tashi.

2. tashi immediately sees the visible tension and love between art and patrick, and literally orchestrates their first kiss. she sees right through their repression, and even calls herself a “home-wrecker” but still entangles herself with them, especially patrick because he’s clearly the better tennis player at that point and that is tash’s ONLY true love. tennis. that’s what she desires most in him, and patrick knows that. he even calls her out on it in the dorm room scene. but they have this mirroring fire in each other that neither of them can give up, not until patrick breaks the balance and bails — tashi’s injury is literally a metaphor for the balance shattering between all three of them when patrick leaves her.

3. before this, patrick sees right through art trying to break them up, and even admires that quality — maybe even feels smug and flattered because art is jealous and feels left out from both tashi and patrick. patrick has known this all along, we saw it in the “tick-serve” scene, where he even swears to tashi he won’t tell anyone but he still tells art, who is desperate to feel a part of them and patrick wants that, too — even keeps that close intimacy with art that we see in the churro scene (swoon swoon swoon).

4. haven’t you noticed that arts desire to be great is only ever tied up in patrick and tashi? how he needs to beat patrick to win tashis affection, how he needs to win in tennis so that tashi can live through him, how he lives up to his potential in the ending only because tashi and patrick push him to it, in their little fucked up ways? he knows this — he even admits that he’s playing for tashi, that he knows she’s living through him. he even admits he’s playing a fucked up little game with patrick when they’re in the sauna. yet he still does it. again, he knows what’s happening, sees right through them — still does it, still loves them.

5. when tashi calls patrick to come pick her up he knows it’s not just to tell him to throw the match �� and despite how she battles him about it, they still have sex in the car, because he already knows. he’s so fully aware of her and her game and he’s so willing to be caught up in it, the same as art.

just some examples of how they all have moments of clarity and agency and yet they still choose to be entangled in one another because they’re all fucked up in their own, individual ways, and they’re all living through each other for their own specific needs. arts is to be seen as worthy, as great, but only through their gaze. tashis is to have the career that was stolen from her. patricks is truly to be in love and in lust with both of them, because we even see that from the beginning that tashis love alone will never satiate him; it has to be arts love, too. that scene in the sauna when he thinks he’s lost it from art is the most sad and fucked up we ever even see patrick. on top of tashi asking him to throw the game — he’s so defensive of arts feelings.

in short this is an actual love triangle (and i would go as far as to see it as a polyship). you can’t erase one without the whole thing unraveling, and you can’t say one character was the “worst” without picking apart the motivations and pointing to the fact that their bad behavior was never a secret or left unchecked.

even at the end, patrick signals to art that he slept with tashi — art knows and they still have that intimate completion at the end, all three of them. art living up to his potential and embracing patrick fully (id argue this could even be a metaphor for embracing his bisexuality), patrick having both tashi and arts affection again, and tashi playing a phenomenal tennis match through her little white boys — in such a visceral, emotional way that she cries out like she did in the beginning and the last frame is her smiling.

in a fucked up way, they all get what they wanted out of each other.

#challengers #challengers spoilers #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #zendaya #mike faist #josh o'connor #luca guadagnino #text post

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cl-0v3r · 3 months ago

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Mel is alive, but at what cost

Mel was nearly killed TWICE, her mother began being a struggle, she'd been thrown aside and trying her best to stop her, her boyfriend is not doing well, neither is anyone else (can't blame them) and the fact that she hadn't cried or spoke much about this situation to anyone a single time?? She IS upset about every single thing, yet she stays strong and enduring every bit of torture. The most she did was tell Jayce that Ambessa put her palm on the table, and let him know that she is going to push for hextech. That's it, nothing remotely related to her feelings.

The fact that she was constantly looking at Caitlyn, being able to understand her grief and knew she was in pain?? Mel knows this feeling. She'd went through it.

And in the end SHE has to pay the price of her mothers incompetence.

The intro is very much foreshadowing, we know the hands represent black rose/LeBlanc.

This is what happens in act one, she gets kidnapped by them. The lyrics do correspond to the characters as well (not just Mel, everyone.)

"Tell you you're the greatest" plays as a petal of the black rose floats down the screen, I think it adds significance to the power this organization holds, possibly the Medardas greatest foe.

"But once you turn, they hate us" both Ambessa and Mel were present in this line, I think its foreshadowing for when Ambessa switches up for whatever reason and goes against both Piltover AND Zaun. And Mel WILL go through change as well, a change that could hurt her relationship with others, and receive interest from others too.

"They hate us" could be read individually too, I feel like its a sort of "realization" ?? Perhaps Ambessa WASN'T the one that switched up, maybe Piltover switched up on them, and maybe Mel JUST got out of wherever she's taken to, and saw the mess Ambessa had done to her city??

I think this represents ACT TWO.

The hands pull away and it sort of looks like Mel is fighting back, a "get away from me" type of scream. you know what this reminds me of??

Don't mind me just pushing my Jinx/powder-Mel parallel agenda

Here is when i think Mel truly learns about LeBlanc/BR, she curiously and slowly goes to grab the rose, she learns about the history between her Mother and them, Kinos death, and most of all, learns about HERSELF. The lyrics speak otherwise.

"Pray away, I swear

I'll never be a saint, no way"

This feels like a parallel to caitlyn of sorts if that makes sense. Caitlyn had done everything to try and stop the council from attacking the Undercity, she kept her mouth shut when Jayce asked about Jinxs grenade, she was willing to protect Vi and the undercity, but how many times has she been tossed around? She'd been burned, exploded, kidnapped (god knows what happened during that time) and hit in the face by the same person, her MOTHER died because of the same person. She has every right to go insane. And she is hunting ONE person, which is Jinx. Although she is harming the people around her along the way.

What if Mel goes through a similar situation? Her mother pushed for war in her city, she dragged the enemy along with her even if she didn't mean to, she manipulated everyone around her INCLUDING Jayce, she LITERALLY got Mel hurt from the chembarons attack and killed so many people during a MEMORIAL to get her hextech weapons, Elora is most likely DEAD, not to mention whatever happened in the past between them. And the thing is, this will NEVER end throughout the entire season.

And what if she learns what she is? That she's 'blessed' by Kindred? The fact that the wolf is quite literally in her blood?

I feel like the "ill never be a saint, no way" also sort of indicates Mel will realize she'll never be able to push for peace and mercy like she always hoped for no matter what, and she comes to accept that as much as it hurts. But not like how ambessa accepted the wolf, but she sort of realizes she needs to push a little violence, towards nobody but the one and only, Ambessa "fine, if you want me to be like you, I guess I'll be like you towards YOU." Type of acceptance.

I think its also related to Mels new outfit too, she's dressed like her mother, in red and all of that. I will still stand by the idea that she has plans to decieve, but she will do something she doesn't want to do.

Mel was left with no choice, that lyric sounds like realization, acceptance, but also like a plea at the same time, an "I'll never be who I wanted to be" because in the end, she's still a Medarda, she's still her mothers daughter, she still has violence in her veins, she will never not suffer from the weight her name holds, and she will never escape it either, its like a shadow.

The Characters won't be themselves at their core this season. And those vital parts of their characters that represent them are no longer there in the intro, they all have given up what makes them, THEM design wise. (e.g.) Vi without her tattoo, Viktor hiding his identity with the mask. And the thing is, they did that to themselves because they do self-harm, they're changing themselves because THEY want to, they're forcing themselves to do that, they think they're undeserving and they're erasing their past selves.

But Mel? Mel doesn't have her gold accessories, Jewelry, or her Armor, she'd been stripped bare and hidden away because of the brutality of her name. She pays the price her mother brought to HER city. She's forced to change herself against her will, because nobody is giving her a chance to push for her ideals.

This entire theory never ends, and with all of this? I kinda do see Mel actually committing Matricide, it lifts the "Ambessa will die" theory further.

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yeyinde · 9 months ago

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The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

#141 x reader #my grandpa is going into town and im going w hin so i wrote this on the way sorry for the mistakes

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whytheylosttheirminds · 4 months ago

Text

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 3

(Rafe Cameron x reader, series, 5.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/themes, heavy drinking, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

The game was on, and Carter wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

You however, were much less invested in her scheme to set you up with Tom, already feeling tired and confused after 24-hours of this little reunion trip. You laid in bed for quite a while replaying the almost-moment you’d had with Rafe in the kitchen in your head before taking a long, dreamless nap. It was the smell of the barbeque wafting through your bedroom window that woke you up. You threw your hair up in a bun, too groggy to care about putting any more effort into your appearance.

As you reached for the handle, you heard two hushed voices arguing behind your bedroom door. You opened it slowly to reveal Carter and Topper facing each other, both with their arms crossed as they carried on a heated whisper-argument.

“What are you even doing up here Topper?” Carter demanded.

“I don’t know, what are you doing up here Carter? Trying to get a leg up?” Topper snapped back, towering over her in height yet still somehow looking small under her glare.

They were so locked in on each other that neither of them had even noticed your appearance.

“Um, hi,” you waved your hand between their faces to get their attention. “Can I help you?”

They looked at you, startled as their arms fell and stances softened. Carter eyed your outfit up and down, trying to hide her distaste at your choice of leggings and a t-shirt.

“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing up here but I came to see if you needed help getting ready,” Carter replied.

“I am ready,” you said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You’re, uh,” Topper scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You squinted at him, you could understand Carter critiquing your outfit, knowing she was trying to set you up with Tom, but what stake did Topper have in your outfit choice?

“We’re literally just going downstairs,” you countered.

“Maybe throw on something a little nicer,” Carter urged gently.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in. “You two are being so weird today.”

Topper gave you a thumbs up as you closed the door in their faces.

A few minutes later you reemerged in a new outfit, a crocheted halter top and some cut-offs. You had let your hair down and ran a brush through it, dabbed on some mascara and lipgloss. It was the maximum amount of effort you were willing to put into a big night out in the backyard.

Despite everyone’s relentless teasing, Topper actually was a pretty good cook. The food was great and everyone thanked you, Rafe, and Tom for going out to get it.

“Tom paid!” you announced. “So everyone make sure to be really nice to him or he won’t bankroll us anymore.”

You smiled at Tom, who grinned back and waved you off in joking modesty. You let your eyes linger as he leaned over the firepit on the other side of the sprawling patio, skillfully stacking the wood before lighting a match and holding it under. He crouched low to blow gently on the kindling, causing the fire to roar to life. You could see a sliver of his toned lower back peeking out from his shirt as he reached for another log, dropping it straight into his newly sparked flame with a bare hand. The whole thing was unbelievably attractive.

The only thing better was the stoney look on Rafe’s face when you caught his eye, realizing he’d noticed the way you were looking at Tom like you wanted to have him for dessert. Good.

Playing and replaying the scene from the kitchen in your head all afternoon, you came downstairs determined to freeze Rafe out. Sure, he remembered your favorite candy and maybe almost even apologized, but it wasn’t enough to erase the sting you felt when he pulled away from you like you had the plague as soon as anyone else entered the room.

After dinner, you were perched on the railing of the porch, sipping something strong and chatting with Carter and her childhood best friend, Maddie.

Maddie was nice enough, the Kook academy prom queen two years in a row, but she had never shown much interest in you. Until you showed up here looking much more instagram-worthy than you had in high school.

“So, omg,” Maddie started, playing with a strand of your hair like you were the closest of friends. “When are you gonna drop the workout routine? You look gorg.”

Never once had one of Carter’s friends complimented your looks.

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I play a lot of volleyball and jog a little.”

“Well it’s working!” Kelce hollered from across the porch, already wobbling slightly from his inebriation.

There it was again, your blush, always showing up at the least opportune times. All eyes were on you, such open talk about your body making your skin crawl with self-consciousness. You looked over the railing to the sand a few feet down, wondering how badly the jump would hurt.

As always, knowing you better than anyone, Carter felt like she could read your mind. Protectiveness roared in her chest, she set her hand over yours to silently tell you she understood before turning to the party and announcing, “okay, we’re playing a game! Everyone around the fire pit!”

No one argued with her wishes, they never did. The group gathered around the bonfire, each with a full drink in hand as Carter unnecessarily explained the rules to never have I ever as if this same group hadn’t played it a hundred times in high school.

You appreciated Carter moving the attention off of you, but clearly she didn’t know this was your least favorite game in the world. The second the name of the game came out of her mouth, your heart dropped to your stomach, hit with memories of sitting off to the side while her friends played, all of your fingers embarrassingly still up, revealing you had done nothing interesting or scandalous in your life.

Sure, you’d definitely added a few notches to your belt since then, but you knew these people and had no doubt you were still way behind. The sad thing is you didn’t even care, but you knew they would and you couldn’t help that nagging desire to prove that you were just as cool as them. You sighed as you settled in your chair next to Carter, frustrated that just as you were starting to feel somewhat normal, you were transported right back to your loneliest days.

Carter went first, “never have I everrr…shoplifted.”

Sabrina took a giggly sip from her solo cup.

“Isn’t your dad’s networth like a billion dollars?” Kelce asked.

“Yes, but he never would’ve bought me those red panties, so I took ‘em,” she winked at him, and he scooted his chair closer to her.

Everyone else still had all ten fingers up, making you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But your relief didn’t last long. One by one they went around the circle, revealing each other’s secrets and leaving you with ten fingers up.

“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever hooked up in a public place.” Your fingers stayed up.

As the group got tipsier, the revelations got dirtier. You were sure some of them were lying and there was some temptation for you to put a finger down as a lie too just to level the playing field, but that was such teenage bullshit. You might not have as a high of a body count as some of them, but you still had your pride.

The blood rushed from you face when Maddie said, “never have I ever been with two people at once” and Rafe put his last finger down, smirking as he finished off his beer.

A few more rounds passed and everyone else had put at least a couple fingers down while you still hadn’t done a single one of the things listed. You chewed on your lip, wondering how early was too early to excuse yourself to go to bed.

You were about to make a break for it, when a now sloppily drunk Sabrina pointed at you and slurred, “aww bambi’s still got ten!”

Bambi was another one of the many teasing nicknames they’d called you in high school, and it might just be your least favorite.

“You’re still such a good girl,” Sabrina jibed.

She must’ve been beyond wasted. She wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t usually this much of a bitch.

Your breaths got short, the anxiety erupting like fireworks in your chest. You could feel Carter’s mind spinning next to you, trying to come up with some way to defend you, but another voice beat her to it.

“Well,” Rafe said, drawing all eyes off of you and across the firepit towards him. “Never have I ever gotten so crossfaded at a boneyard party that I pissed my pants in someone else’s truck.”

He shot Sabrina a vindictive smile.

“Rafe!” She protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

At her admission, everyone broke out into laughter, aimed at her.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Rafe chuckled, “you just did.”

“Bruhh,” Kelce hollered. “That’s nasty!”

Sabrina went red, completely humiliated. You tried to be a girl’s girl, but after years of her teasing and making you feel like a loser, you couldn’t help but join in the laughter at her expense.

As she emptied her cup spitefully, you caught Rafe’s gaze across the fire, the air between you wavy with the flame’s heat. He smiled a crooked, satisfied smile at you, and you mouthed “thank you.” He gave you a reassuring wink and your stomach did cartwheels.

Carter straightened in her lawn chair next to you, kicking herself for giving Rafe the chance to save you before she could.

“I’ve got one!” she announced, and the crowd hushed to hear their queen. “Never have I ever skinny dipped in the campus fountain and got caught by campus security but successfully flirted my way out of a citation and ended up getting the cop’s number.”

Everyone looked around the circle quizzically, wondering who that incredibly specific anecdote was aimed at.

“No fucking way!” Topper shouted when he saw you put down your pinky finger with a bashful smile.

Topper and Kelce whooped, and the girls all gave you impressed looks.

“Okay baddie!” Maddie gasped. “Was he cute? Did you call him?”

“I mean he wasn’t not cute,” you mused, taking the obligatory sip of your drink. “We hung out a few times.”

“So does that mean you’re into handcuffs now orrr…” Kelce chimed in.

“Oops, I put the wrong fingers down,” you lifted your hand and theatrically put all down except your middle finger, aiming it at Kelce.

The crowd erupted with laughs and amused ohhhh’s. Even Rafe was smiling, and you couldn’t help but wish you knew what he was thinking, noticing his soft eyes on you as you bantered with his friends, all attention on you. This time, you weren’t blushing, you were just enjoying yourself. It felt so nice to have such a naturally fun and easy moment, but it was short lived.

“Never have I ever,” Sabrina interrupted, hiccuping. “Failed an entire semester of college.”

The crowd fell silent once again, no one daring to bring their eyes to Rafe, the clear target of her comeback. He just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, like it didn’t bother him at all. But you could see the hint of shame in his eyes, a rare glimpse of vulnerability hidden under his tough facade. You used to spend so much of your time digging for those deeper layers that it was easy for you to pick up on them when they rose to the surface, even if it was just for a second.

Maybe you should let him flounder, leave him hanging like he’d done to you so many times before. But tonight, for the first time ever, he had jumped in to defend you, and maybe one act of kindness wouldn’t kill you.

“Fuck this game. Topper, didn’t you say something earlier about a beer pong tournament?” You prompted him, hoping desperately he’d see what you were trying to do and play along.

Topper looked confused at first, so you smiled tightly and flicked your eyes to Rafe and back as quickly as possible, urging him to understand.

Ever the king of subtlety, Topper’s eyes went wide as he mouthed “ohhhh!”

Rafe saw the whole thing.

“Beer pong! Yes!” Topper said, excited to finally be in the loop. “Let’s do it!”

“I wanna play!” Sabrina stood quickly from her chair, immediately tripping over her own feet.

“Woah,” Carter caught her and held her up with some effort, Sabrina so far gone she couldn’t even use her legs. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

Carter stabilized Sabrina and guided her towards the house. You knew she was pissed at Sabrina for picking on you, but Carter would never leave a drunk girl to stumble around a party by herself. She looked at you apologetically, but you nodded to let her know you were fine.

After they disappeared into the house, Topper and Kelce got to work clearing the long outdoor dining table for beer pong, filling cups and placing them with great attention to detail. You chuckled at the way they were arguing over correct cup spacing and fill levels as you reached down into the cooler for another drink. When you stood, Tom appeared by your side.

“I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with a criminal,” he drawled, mouth quirked with a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah,” you played along, popping the top of your drink. “I’m wanted in four states and Puerto Rico.”

“And Puerto Rico, wow,” he leaned his arm against the porch rail, his body angling towards yours in a way that made your skin prick with goosebumps. “I need to hear that story.”

“I’d tell you,” you lowered your voice and lifted your mouth towards his ear to whisper. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re in that deep, huh?” He placed his other hand on the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in, though he held himself back far enough to give you some space. You didn’t want space, though, the enticing scent of whiskey and the smoke from the fire drawing you to him.

“Mhm,” you leaned in so your chests were almost touching, a smile tugging his full lips when he noticed the way you intentionally closed the space between you. “If you thought the campus fountain story was bad…”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” he shook his head.

“No?” You grinned, eager to see where he was going with this.

“Not bad, kind of hot, but not bad,” he confessed.

“Only kind of?” You furrowed your brow in mock offense.

He broke into a smile and blushed, flustered as he said, “I mean, uh…”

You giggled. His bashful, dimpled smile was so painfully cute you were suddenly seeing the value to Carter’s matchmaking plan.

The alcohol in your system mixed with the warmth radiating off of him made your body go hot, tingles shooting up your spine as his eyes fell to your lips. He was so damn pretty. Warm brown eyes and messy hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in.

Rafe grabbed the fire poker and busied himself by tending to the flames, which didn’t really need it, considering Tom had built such a sturdy fire. The sound of your sweet giggles floating through the air as you flirted with Tom made him want to walk straight off the porch and into the ocean. He’d surely put his lifelong friendship with Sabrina on the line, not to mention his own pride, to keep you from running away in embarrassment, and now Tom was reaping the rewards of his chivalry.

He remembered, though. Maybe you didn’t think he did, but he remembered. The nights you sat in the corner, lonely, pining, and the go-to butt of his friends’ stupid jokes. And he’d just sat by and let it happen, so many times. It’s no wonder you were leaned up against someone else, sharing stories about a whole chapter of your life he’d missed. He only had himself to blame.

Once the table was set up, Topper turned and frowned at the way the group had split, you and Tom cozy in the corner while Rafe stood by the fire alone, shoulders tense. He needed to step up his Cupid game, like, now.

He clapped his hands loudly, voice booming as he announced to the party that it was time to play. The startling sound forced Tom away from you just as you were about to ask him if he wanted to walk down to the water. Topper pointed right at you and pronounced you would be on his team. You were going to protest before you remembered beer pong was your idea in the first place, your ruse to protect Rafe. You couldn’t back out now.

Beer pong was another thing you’d added to your skill set in college. In high school, you were never asked to join when parties inevitably broke into a tournament. Instead you’d sit quietly and watch with hearts in your eyes as Rafe played with the competitiveness of an Olympian in a gold medal race.

He was known for his terrible sportsmanship, everyone expected a full tantrum if he didn’t win. The same went for school sports, you’d spent every night after a rare loss up on the phone with him listening intently while he ranted about all the ways the refs were wrong or the umps were blind. At the time, you took it as an honor that you were the one he wanted to find solace in. Now, grown and mature, you saw it for what it really was; no one else wanted to listen to him bitch and moan, so you were just his only option.

“Let’s go, Little Carter!” Topper raised his hand for a high five as you approached the table.

“If you call me that, I’m not playing,” you left him hanging.

“My bad, my bad,” he conceded.

You gave in and high fived him, stepping up to the table with your game face on. Kelce and Maddie stood across from you. They were both terrible shots, and you sunk every ball, but Topper was keeping them in the game with his many misses.

Topper was great at beer pong in high school and you were sure he’d had plenty of practice at U of F, so there was no reason he should be playing so horribly.

“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” You scolded him after another throw that was way off.

“I dunno,” Topper said with an exaggerated drunken slur in his voice. “I think I’m just too wasted to play. You might need another partner.”

Before you could mock him for his dramatics, he had called over to Rafe, who was sitting back in a lounge chair looking at his phone, anything to keep his eyes off of you.

“What?” He grumbled, eyes lifting from his screen and avoiding yours.

“Need you to sub in for me,” Topper fake hiccupped and you rolled your eyes.

You were sure Rafe would see you were his proposed partner and pass on the opportunity, but then he and Topper had some kind of silent conversation with their eyes that you couldn’t interpret, and Rafe stood from his chair.

“You don’t have to,” you offered as he stepped up and took the ball from Topper.

You hated that your instinct was to apologize for inconveniencing him. He shrugged and lined up his first shot.

“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done,” he said with an easy grin that made your heart beat a little faster.

If only your younger self could see how your night was progressing. Impressing everyone during never have I ever. Flirting with a gorgeous boy from another school. And now, Rafe smiling at you and acknowledging your presence in front of all these people, willingly agreeing to be your teammate. She’d have died and gone to heaven.

He had every right to be cocky; he was really good. And to his great surprise, so were you. You and Rafe made quick work of Kelce and Maddie, then Kelce and Jack, then Kelce and three more partners that tried to step up to the plate, Kelce’s aim worsening as he teetered on the edge of a blackout.

“When did you get so good at this?” Rafe asked you after a partcualrly skillful shot.

“I was always good at it,” you scoffed. “You just never let me play.”

After that comment, Rafe was suddenly an extra encouraging teammate. Before each shot he’d pull you back, leaning down to whisper in your ear conspiratorially about which cup you should call, like an NFL coach rallying his quarterback.

“I can’t hit the far corner, my aim isn’t that good,” you said when he proposed the risky shot.

Self-doubt filled your face as you bit your lip, Rafe recognizing the nervous tick instantly.

“Nah you got it!” he grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you playfully. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite yourself, you broke into a smile, making a feeble attempt to brush him away, though he could tell you didn’t mean it.

“Let’s go slugger,” Rafe placed the ball in your hand and guided you into position by your shoulders. He stood behind you and leaned in to bring his mouth close to your ear. “You got this.”

You loved it. You hated it. Your head swirled with conflicting thoughts, but when you sunk the ball with a flick of your wrist, they all faded.

“Let’s fucking gooo!” Rafe yelled.

He lifted his hand for a double high five and you stood on your tiptoes to reach. Your arms came down, but your hands were still in his.

“Told ‘ya,” he said tenderly, smiling down at you as his large hands enveloped yours. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite the alarms blaring in your head, telling you to run, you let it all linger. The deep sound of his voice in the air, his eyes on your lips, his rough hands folded in yours.

“Okay!” Carter chose that minute to emerge from the house after Sabrina finally fell asleep. “That’s enough wins for y’all, time for some real competition.”

The sound of her voice snapped you out of the moment, and you pulled your hands away from Rafe quickly, nervous about all the eyes on you for the first time since you’d started playing.

“I need a partner,” Carter said, surveying the group on the patio. “How about…”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where she was going with this show and wishing she’d just fast forward to the end.

“Tom?” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, as if it was a crazy idea she had just come up with. “Do you play?”

“I may have taken part in a tourney or two,” Tom said humbly.

“Bullshit,” Kelce exclaimed, slumped in a chair as his head spun. “This guy was the Alpha Tau champion all four years. He’s got a plaque and everything.”

“Damn, I didn’t know we had Alpha Tau royalty in our midst!” Carter bantered.

“Jesus, enough with the fanfare, are you playing or not, dude?” Rafe snapped.

Carter eyed you, her lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. No one was surprised at Rafe’ gruffness, more than used to his competitive mean streak. It was not one of his more attractive qualities. The pull you’d just felt to him faltered a little at the reminder of this particular weakness. You were sure that’s exactly what Carter was hoping for.

“Alright I’m in,” Tom said, stepping up to the table and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.” He winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah, just call your shot, champ,” Rafe said.

The four of you reset the cups, not much work needing to be done on you and Rafe’s side of the table since almost no one had scored on you. As Tom lined up his first shot, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, adjusting and readjusting his stance to get comfortable.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest mumbling something along the lines of “this fuckin’ guy” and you couldn’t help but smile, admittedly also kind of getting the ick from how seriously Tom was taking this.

Then he sunk every ball. After a few particularly good rounds, he made his third shot in a row, and Carter called “fire.” She handed him balls one after another like he was taking free throws, wiggling her eyebrows at you to make sure you were paying attention to his triumph.

You drank each cup obediently, ever the rule follower. After your fourth, you were getting so sick of the stale beer, you and Rafe’s cups had been sitting untouched all night and the cheap hops had soured significantly. When Tom sunk another one you grabbed the cup hesitantly, queasy, nearly gagging.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Rafe volunteered, grabbing the cup from you.

“Y’all don’t have to drink those if they’re really that bad,” Tom offered, pausing his next shot when he noticed how disgusted you looked.

“I got it, man,” Rafe waved him off, holding his nose and shooting back the beer as quickly as possible. He dropped the empty cup with a grimace.

“We can just call it a game,” Tom suggested, clearly feeling bad.

“Do you want to forfeit?” You asked Rafe, dropping your voice so Carter and Tom couldn’t hear.

“What and just wave the white flag?” Rafe replied, eyebrows raised. “Do you?

Your lips spread in a slow smile, “not a fucking chance.”

“Atta girl,” he nodded, returning his gaze to Tom. “We’re no quitters, hit us again big guy.”

And he did, over and over, until there was only one cup left on your side of the table. As he prepped for his final shot, Rafe turned to you, a playful, tipsy smile on his face.

“We had a good run,” He said, reaching out shake your hand. You took it with a smile.

When Tom and Carter won, high fiving each other in a loud celebration, all eyes fell to Rafe, waiting to see how he’d react to losing. You tensed, hoping his chipper attitude when you were winning would carry over into a graceful loss. But then he rounded the table, striding towards Tom, and you cringed in anticipation of a classic Rafe Cameron Temper Tantrum.

“Oh boy,” Carter mumbled under her breath. “Here we go.”

But there was no blow up, just Rafe extending his hand to Tom, who took it with a friendly shake.

“Good game, man,” Rafe said.

“Yeah, you too, dude,” Tom smiled, not realizing this show of sportsmanship was a historical first.

Rafe tilted his head in a friendly nod towards your sister, “Carter.”

“Rafael,” she returned his sarcastic tone, purposefully using his least favorite nickname.

With that, Rafe walked away from the table, one last glance towards you as he returned to his seat by the fire. You watched him go, feeling sad not that you had lost, but that your fun night with Rafe had seemingly come to an end.

It was dizzying, your ever-changing emotional state, and you suspected it had very little to do with the beer. Thinking over all the events of the day gave you whiplash. One second you were about ready to ask Tom if he wanted to come back to your room, the next it felt like you and Rafe were finally sharing the moment you’d dreamt of for years. All the while, you weren’t sure you actually wanted either of them, or if you even wanted to be here at all.

“Wanna play again?” Carter asked, noticing the distracted look on your face.

“I’m good,” you smiled at her appreciatively, deciding you’d had enough excitement for one day. “I think I’m probably just going to bed now.”

“Aww, but it’s so early grandma,” Topper called over to you from the firepit.

You walked over to his chair and peched on the armrest.

“Ah yes, another one of my favorite nicknames,” you joked. “No one’s called me that in four years.”

“Another inside joke?” Tom inquired, joining the circle, he and Carter each grabbing a chair.

“In high school, she was always the first to leave parties. She’d rather be at home in bed with a book by 9pm,” Topper explained to him.

You rose from his chair, eager to ditch this little trip down memory lane before it got too embarrassing. You almost made a clean escape, but then a very drunk Kelce decided to chime in.

“Unless Rafe asked her to stay,” he laughed. “Then she’d be there allll night.”

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve been embarrassed a thousand times in your life, but this was something different. You looked down at your feet, not sure what you were supposed to do. No quick, face saving remark was coming to mind.

Carter smacked Kelce on the arm, while Topper shook his head with a disapproving, “dude…”

Your eyes drifted to Rafe, who was looking down at his hands uncomfortably. Whatever protective instinct that had inspired him to stand up for you earlier was clearly gone as he left you to drown in the painfully awkward silence.

“Oh, were you two…?” Tom asked, pointing between you and Rafe quizzically.

“Nope,” you told him with a stiff smile.

He looked like he was about to ask more, but caught on at the last second, reading in between the lines. There it was, the last person here who didn’t know about your pathetic past was now caught up to speed. Yeah, you’d definitely had enough.

“Kelce, you’re such an asshole,” Carter began reprimanding him.

“Just stop,” you urged her. “It’s fine, I’m just going to bed.”

“Wait!” She called after you, but you were already walking toward the house, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. She gave Kelce one last slap and rushed after you.

Kelce, barely conscious, still hadn’t caught up with his own party foul.

“Where��s she going?” He asked Topper.

Rafe stood from his chair suddenly.

“Will you get him out of here please?” He spat at Topper, sidestepping the fire as he stormed off toward the house.

Rafe followed your path into the kitchen, not sure what he was going to say when he caught up to you, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make it right. He should’ve said something as soon as Kelce put his foot in his mouth. He’d deal with that dumbass later.

He slid the kitchen door open, headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, but he stopped short when he heard your voice. He stayed back, out of sight but close enough to hear your conversation with Carter on the stairs.

“Carter, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“No it’s fucking not, he made you cry,” Carter practically growled.

Rafe’s heart dropped. You were crying? He was gonna kick Kelce’s ass as soon as he was sober enough to feel pain.

“I’m just tired,” you sniffled. “Please, just drop it for now. I just wanna go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, her voice starting to crack. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay.”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I knew he was gonna be here.”

Rafe frowned. Was the ‘he’ you were referring to still Kelce, or was it him? Was his presence really so distressing to you that you were in tears?

Carter reluctantly bid you goodnight, and Rafe slipped into the pantry so she wouldn’t see him when she descended the stairs back into the kitchen, storming towards the backyard, surely on her way to give Kelce hell.

He stood in the walk-in pantry for a minute, collecting his thoughts.

Maybe he should be the one to leave. If his presence really was such torment to you, it would be the right thing to do. But you didn’t seem tormented earlier when you were playing beer pong with him, cheering each other on and laughing like friends. Or before, at the fire, when you’d come to each other’s defense. Even his two best friends hadn’t seen that Sabrina’s words actually hurt him, but you did. You always knew him better than anyone.

While he stood in the pantry, illuminated only by the single light bulb above his head, his eyes grazed over the shelf. Between a stack of paper plates and some hamburger buns, sat the candy he had picked out for you at the store. He smiled at the memory of your many car rides as teenagers, fueled by the snacks you had brought when you picked him up. Maybe you regretted those times now, but something about the fact that this was still your favorite candy made him feel better.

His stomach twisted with worry that after what Kelce had said, you would decide to leave. The only worse thought was that he might let you go without finding the courage to say the words he’d been holding onto since he saw you on the beach. Maybe you’d slam the door in his face, but he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Rafe grabbed your candy off the shelf and climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to knock on your bedroom door before he lost his nerve.

(Chapter 4)

a/n: I LOVED hearing all your Team Tom vs. Team Rafe opinions!! The competition is heating up!!!! (not my outline for this chapter starting with “note: google rules to beer pong” lol)

Ch 4 predictions? 👀

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #obx fic #drew starkey #rafe obx #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #topper thornton #x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #don't call me kid

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itaipava · 3 months ago

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— f1 boys and the moment they go “fuck it”

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

you’re both a little drunk, but sober enough to know what you’re doing. he loves testing your limits, so he makes a bet with you over something trivial, promising a “prize” if you win. when you win and smile victoriously, he laughs and says, “i guess i owe you something special, right?” you nod, ready to receive whatever it is. he leans in, eyes shining, and whispers, “i hope this counts,” before giving you a kiss that feels playful and intense at the same time.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

you’ve always had a fun friendship, where you could joke around and have fun with each other all the time, and tonight was no different. you’ve been teasing him all night, playfully testing his limits. he’s been patient, smiling, until you say something that pushes him over the edge, “oh you want to kiss me so bad right now,” you say playfully as he wouldn’t stop looking at your lips. he looks serious for a moment and you think he doesn’t like what you said, but he just gets even closer, his voice low and intense, “you have no idea how much,” before leaning in and kissing you, finally giving in to what he’s wanted for so long.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

you're alone in your room while music plays. you thought you were alone and he was in the living room, but he was silently watching you sway, mesmerized. he always admired you from afar and never hid it, but at that moment, something changes inside him like never before. he thought a lot before doing it, but it was only when he stopped thinking that he finally did it: he approaches, puts a hand on your waist and, without saying a word, pulls you close, holding you as if you were the only two people in the world. you were startled by his sudden attitude, but you quickly melted in his arms as he hugged you and pulled you even closer to him while your lips were danced together.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

you’d never argued before, but at that moment, your nerves were on edge; you were both frustrated with each other. the room fell silent as the tension shifted, and he was staring at you, breathless. you tried to look away from him, but something about him held you back; he was a mess. suddenly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken emotions between you, finally letting everything that had been bottled up come out.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he watches you from afar as you talk and laugh with another guy, and even though he knows he has no claim, it still stirs something primal in him; he just couldn't stop staring at you, and you noticed it. later, when you're alone, you tease him about it and ask him why he couldn't stop looking at you like that. he knows you were having fun with the situation, but he wasn't. you thought it was no big deal, but for him it changed everything. "i hated seeing you with someone else," he finally admits, serious as he stares at you. you look at him for a few seconds and smile, he smiles back and takes your face, finally kissing you - and claiming you his.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

it’s late and you’re saying goodbye after spending the whole day together; he loves being with you, but he hates the time to say goodbye. it feels like time passes so quickly with you but so painfully slowly when you’re apart. he also knows that you hate goodbyes, so you’re lingering at the door, neither wanting to part. he takes your hand, holding it a little tighter, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “maybe… i don’t want to say goodbye yet,” he says and his eyes shine at you. he leans in, finally pressing his lips to yours as he places his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your waist.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

it’s late and you’re both tired from the party you just attended. people have started to leave, but you’re too busy with each other to care. you’re in the garden of the huge house, sitting on the grass and admiring the stars. he looks at you laughing at something he told you, your voice soft and open, and something inside him snaps. his heart starts to beat faster as he’s mesmerized by you. he blurts out, “sorry, i can’t pretend anymore,” and pulls you closer to him, his hands shaking with anticipation and desire as he finally takes your face carefully and kisses you, completely melting into the taste of you.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he loves listening to you and always listens attentively. but lately he hasn't been able to hold himself back: whenever you start talking, he has to look away or think about something else, because he's on the verge of finally giving in to you. you have a surprising effect on him that he's never felt before, and today was no different: while you're talking, he suddenly goes quiet, his eyes fixed on yours with an intense gaze. "sorry," he murmurs, "i know you're saying something important, but i just… i can't concentrate when you're so close." he's also surprised by what he just said, but he doesn't wait for an answer, pulling you into that kiss he's been holding back for so, so long.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

you’re both running to take cover from an unexpected downpour, and you’re both soaking wet, laughing and out of breath. he looks at you, hair drenched and eyes shining as you laugh, and realizes he can’t contain himself anymore. you’re the most beautiful and charming person he’s ever met in his life, and he can’t hide it anymore. he’s afraid of losing you; of losing the opportunity to finally be with you. so, without saying a word, he gently caresses your cheek and smiles with you before pulling you into a passionate kiss, with the rain running down both of you. in that moment, he felt like he was floating. in that moment, nothing else mattered, it was just you and him in the world.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #george russell fluff #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #liam lawson x reader #liam lawson imagine #oscar piastri imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #charles leclerc imagine

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ariasakka · 3 months ago

Text

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!”

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

#viktor arcane #smut #arcane #arcane smut #viktor league of legends #Viktor arcane smut #fluff #headcannon smut #fan fic smut #fan fiction #arcane jayce #jayce league of legends #league of legends #league of legends x reader #viktor x reader #viktor smut

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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago

Note

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system.

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you.

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else.

Sometimes he just looks… edible.

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you.

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch.

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing.

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested.

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies.

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it.

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid.

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character.

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie.

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one.

It’s annoying. And kind of hot.

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you.

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar.

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer.

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you.

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults.

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver.

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway.

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it.

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile.

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark.

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap.

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers.

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous.

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear.

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty.

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute.

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper.

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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coffee-and-geto · 6 days ago

Text

DRIVE ME INSANE

“You drive me insane!” you snap, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Yeah, I’d say the feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow, his gaze dropping momentarily to the finger poking his chest as though he’s admiring your nerve.

pairing: CEO! satoru gojo! x f!reader

summary: cheating on your husband who couldn’t care less about you, satoru gojo — your fervent lover — has a nasty habit of showing up unannounced, threatening to ruin all the lies you’ve built for your husband so far by leaving all too visible marks after a hot session. however, after a very first argument with him, you’re determined to throw all your anger at him. but neither of you can ignore the tension between the two of you, especially when satoru is ready to take full responsibility.

warnings: +18 MDNI, smut, nsfw, cheating (the husband does it first but according to the timelaps it’s explained all along in this silly fic :p), CEO! gojo, lover! gojo, kinda slight toxic! gojo but he’s just desperately in love, angst, hurt/comfort, angry sex (i tried at least), sex (p in v), rough sex, possessive! gojo, overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), he’s rich asf, fanart by @/kiyoro2 on X.

wc: 8,193

a/n: second warning before reading this fic if you didn’t read the warnings: you need to know that the husband in this story cheats on the reader BEFORE her. he’s cold, not loving her anymore and cheating on her BEFORE the actual timelaps but you’ll know it only while reading through, got it?

i don’t like writing about cheaters because they’re horrible but this is just a “revenge” not really said out oud (you have to guess). this is just a warning so some of you won’t catch me with hate/discourse or anything around it because i would have written an “unfair cheater” lol. enjoy reading, tho!

“Hey, darling.”

The sweet melody of Satoru’s voice rings to your ears, sending a crude shiver that runs down your entire spine. Among all of the several times you were alone, with your husband gone to work like a hooked on it, the white-hair man always shows up at your door when you do not expect it.

So, of course, you’re always on the lookout, nervously stealing glances here and there at the door, through the window to check the parking lot of your apartment block, or even your phone if the miracle of him sending you a message occurs. Despite the thousands of times you’ve warned Satoru, the latter doesn’t seem to listen to you.

Your lover goes into your apartment, a classy decoration without any warmth of household — just a simple apartment.

From the cooling fireplace, to the pristine couch and the American kitchen where you are doing the dishes, Satoru always comes to the ‘warmth’ he was craving at your place.

You.

As simple as that.

He’d ignore your groans when his arms find your waist to hug you from behind. And the only sensation of the flat of his torso pressing to your back quiets down every thought, every breath you’d take, every worry and word that would escape the barrier of your lips.

It was just him. Satoru Gojo.

Not your husband. But your lover.

Maybe a word that had a deeper meaning behind any kind of link.

And what hurt the most was the fact that you would crave calling any man that was yours ‘my husband’ in any situation to bring that pride up your chest.

Yet, the last time you’ve pronounced those exact words, was the day you met Satoru.

You were doing the queue for a coffee shop near his headquarters, but how would you know that detail, hm? It was fate, he thought when he approached the queue and ended up behind you as your eyes were glued to the menu card in order that you could choose your drink.

And yet again, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by you. Your silhouette standing still, vaulted shoulders, a small frown on your lips portraying your hesitation and two beautiful and mesmerizing eyes...

Oh, Lord, that was the only detail from you that this poor man will never forget and will haunt him every single next second.

And, of course, Satoru Gojo isn’t that kind of man who lets fate dictate his life.

He was the only one distracting it. Wanted or not. Period.

“An Americano coffee?” he spoke with his lowest voice to not scare you. He stepped closer to you, his form hovering you as his face lowered to the height of your shoulder. “Thought pretty girls like you always chose espresso.”

Your head jerked up and your eyes met him for the first time.

“W-What…?”

The most unfair, charming smile tugged at Satoru's lips’ corners. “Why don’t you take an espresso? Is it because of the price, darling?” he cooed.

Unsettled by his more-than-strange intrusion, you replied without thinking twice, “Since when, espresso is better than americano?”

And, oh, dear, dear Lord, why were you testing him like this with such an angelic mortal like him? Couldn’t you let him live his life like it was meant to be? Why does this futile and innocent frown have such a ravishing effect on him? Tearing his heart apart, grabbing and stealing his breath to run away with it so he won’t be able to find any air but yours to use to survive in this old world?

“I don’t know. It’s more boring. Not elegant, and not fitting the vibe you give off, darling.” His blue eyes fell down on the ring around your finger, and his mind unconsciously prayed that you weren’t taken.

“It’s my husband’s favorite coffee,” you just responded like an irreversible sentence.

But Satoru didn’t let the situation get him down.

“Oh, so my pretty lady is taken? What a shame.” A little smirk spread his lips, and widened even more when he noticed how low was your affirmation. “I suppose he has bad taste in everything… but for women.”

A furious blush flustered your cheeks. “How dare you—”

“Yes, I dare, darling,” he almost hummed. “You really need someone to show you what is good coffee. Nothing but starting with that. What do you think?” he offers.

The queue moved on, and the chic café provided all the atmosphere of having a nice cup and a nice drink just to chat with anyone on a sidewalk seating area.

But, no, you were newly married. Your husband would be devastated that you’d let yourself be seduced by a complete stranger.

Although not so simple, considering how beautiful he was, with his perfect good looks, no one seemed to see anyone but him. And he couldn’t see anyone but you.

“So what, darling?” he insisted with a gentle tone. “Let me take your order and show you what coffee is.”

He pauses.

“If you may.”

The thought of letting him buy you a cup of coffee had obviously heightened your sense of unease and betrayal. But the memory of your husband leaving early in the morning without hello in your bed, his eternally neutral and unpleasant tone, his female co-workers leeching off him and all the effort you put into making your house feel like home haunts your mind.

With a resigned nod from you, Satoru almost jumped for joy and did a happy dance in front of the whole café.

How long had it been since he’d wanted to act like a child?

Satoru requested a small bottle-green round table on the sidewalk seating area, whose sunshade above unfurled like a fan protecting you from the bright sun of the day.

“By the way, I’m Satoru Gojo,” he introduced himself. He settled into the chair opposite you as the waiter left to take your orders.

You quickly introduced yourself. But the young albino didn’t fail to notice how lovely, humble and charming you were.

The perfect woman for him.

“I’m a CEO,” he added, maybe to impress you.

Surprise streaks your features. “Oh.”

He had expected more of a reaction from you, but you ended up disappointing him.

So he tried to restart the conversation to break the ice that had formed between you and him. He wasn’t one to usually go after people who were already taken. Yet, his instincts told him to stay with you. As if the north and south poles couldn’t help but attract each other, Satoru was slowly but surely drawn to you.

The orders were placed delicately on the table, and your lovely espresso cup, so exquisitely prepared, almost broke your heart at the thought of ruining its beauty by drinking it.

“This café serves the best coffee in town, you know. I come here often enough to say that with confidence, and also to notice that you didn’t know it,” he said, taking a sip from his own cup before propping his elbow on the glass table to rest his chin against his hand. “Admit it, you walked in here by chance.”

You almost choked on your sip of espresso, startled by his perceptiveness.

“It’s written all over your face, darling,” he said with a grin.

Still reserved, a hint of embarrassment flushed your cheeks with a soft blush that Satoru could have died to kiss.

“So?” he changed the subject. “How’s the espresso?”

“Very good,” you mumbled, lifting your gaze to meet his. Then you hesitated to continue with your real thoughts. Would he get bored listening to you like your husband usually did? Would he cut you off to end what he might see as pointless chatter?

“Just very good?” His eternally sincere and attentive smile lingered on his lips. He was definitely ready to hear every word you had to say.

You took a small breath. “Actually, the espresso has a sweet vanilla aroma that gives it a smooth taste on the palate, lingering just enough to make you want more. The foam is also very pleasant because it’s neither thin nor too frothy. The texture is creamy and at the perfect temperature to avoid burning your tongue.” You let out the last breath that the whole monologue had cost you.

“In short, it’s perfect,” you added softly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Satoru murmured, his eyes locked on yours as if they would never let go, haunting forever the memory of the moment you two met.

“Glad you like it, by the way.”

For a first meeting, it could have seemed trivial. When it was time for you to leave, Satoru found the courage to ask for your phone number. To your own surprise, you accepted without hesitation. His company was pleasant, after all. He listened to you without ever interrupting, and seemed genuinely interested in you. And as a bonus, he was easy on the eyes.

So, was it really surprising that you looked forward to your next meeting with him?

“It’s not a date,” you reassured yourself in front of your mirror while applying gloss and straightening your clothes to keep them spotless.

The second time you met, it was at the same café.

The same orders.

But with a little more joy.

And with every meeting, there were a little more laughs, more teasing, more good moments, fewer bad memories flying away, and your doubts fading into the tranquility that Satoru Gojo brought you.

He quickly became an excellent friend. As you started opening up more and more to him, he began to allow himself to give you advice, rolling his eyes approvingly during your ranting sessions about your husband, where, despite the pang in his heart, Satoru kept repeating that you deserved better.

And as time went by, your bond with him grew stronger. You didn’t feel so alone anymore. He always found time for you, even when he was busy at the office.

Your husband’s absence quickly became just a minor detail in your life.

Especially when Satoru started showering you with gifts you categorically refused. If it was a dress one time, the next it was a necklace of genuine pearls, or lunch at fancy restaurants you never thought you’d set foot in.

The guilt inevitably crept up on you from every angle.

Whether it was over the fact that Satoru’s devotion to you made you feel illegitimate in receiving so much from someone who wasn’t even your partner. Or your husband.

Was it betrayal?

You weren’t cheating on him.

You were just spending time with someone who made time for you.

How could one equate cheating with this friendship, right?

This question lingered until the day, during a dinner with Satoru, when he had stepped away for a few minutes to settle the bill, a young man approached your table, trying to flirt with you and convince you to end the evening at a nightclub his friend owned, where they’d be delighted to meet you along with the rest of their crew. With all due respect, you refused, despite the young man’s persistence.

And when Satoru returned to the table, he immediately sat beside you, his arm infuriatingly well-placed around your waist to keep you close.

“Can I help you? My wife seems tired; tell me what you need,” Satoru chimed in, his tone icy as he glared at the young man.

“You’re married?” the man choked out, his tone echoing the same shock you felt internally.

“Yes, I’m her husband. Isn’t it obvious?” he confirmed.

Later, in the chilling silence outside the restaurant, Satoru restrained himself from pulling you into a tight hug as the two of you walked down the street. You walked at a more reasonable distance from him, your chin lowered in guilt toward the ground.

The night sky was a deep navy blue that evening. The stars barely sparkled, and only the snow added a touch of brightness to the urban landscape, where the yellow and orange streetlights could never match the glitter in the sky.

“You alright?” Satoru asked softly, stealing a concerned glance at you.

“I’m… fine,” you muttered.

He couldn’t hear any more of that. “Hey, if this is about what I said earlier—”

“Who said it’s about that?” you snapped defensively. Suddenly, it felt like all the perfect moments had turned into nightmares.

“I didn’t mean to make you unco—” he began, but you cut him off again.

“Who said I was uncomfortable?” you bit out, your brows furrowing as if you couldn’t take any more. “It’s not like I feel like a cheater—”

“Don’t call yourself that. It’s him,” Satoru interrupted sharply, immediately grabbing your wrist to hold your hand. “It’s all his fault. So, please, don’t feel—”

“God, I’m a married woman, Satoru, for fuck’s sake!” You tried to pull your hand back, but Satoru held it tighter.

“And a woman who also deserves better than to feel bad for her shitty husband who’s probably cheating on her!” he fired back with the same intensity. “Do you even see what you’re losing with him, at least?”

“Where is this conversation going?” you asked, squinting. “What the fuck do you mean? For weeks now, you’ve been telling me I deserve ‘better’!”

The situation felt so wrong yet so right at the same time. But it was only in Satoru’s eyes, watching you with a worried crease between his brows, that the truth lingered.

Of course, he didn’t want to lose you.

“Because you do,” he mouthed.

“But with who?” you cried out in despair.

“Isn’t that obvious?” he whispered, echoing his earlier words.

Even though the two of you had stopped walking and now faced each other, the wintry wind continued to swirl around you, biting at your cheeks already burned by the cold, screaming the answer behind his words. Snowflakes tangled in your hair, scarf, and coat. On Satoru, it was different — the snowflakes melted into his hair, his nose and cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and every exhale left a white cloud trailing from his lips.

Only his eyes remained untouched. Fixed on you. Truthful.

“You can— You cannot,” you finally sighed, ignoring how your body felt simultaneously on fire and frozen. You staggered toward a nearby wall. “Take back what you just said, not to me,” you whispered almost pleadingly. You shut your eyes for a moment, as if trying to wake from a nightmare.

Satoru closed the distance between you in a single stride.

He gently took your hand and placed it against his chest. “Yes, you’re right. I cannot. My heart is yours. I cannot deny it. I cannot control it. I cannot help it. Do whatever you want with it. Even broken and unrequited, my heart is yours and only belongs to you.”

His breath brushed your cheek so tenderly it felt unreal — yet so undeniably real.

And this time, from your point of view. No longer his.

The suffocating closeness became unbearable. You were about to break. He needed to step back, to leave, to go.

“I— I…” you stuttered.

Thoughts swirled in your mind, just like the snowflakes around you both. Every thought blurred together, and only one tried to rise above and clear the chaos.

But it was the worst thought of all.

And yet, the only one capable of deciding the next move.

In a spontaneous gesture, you bent your head toward Satoru’s lips, sealing both the kiss and the fate he had always fought against.

It didn’t matter if you both ended up hurt.

No matter what the consequences.

Now was not the time to think about that.

As you tried to pull away from Satoru to catch your breath, he pulled you against him the next second to taste you once more, the heat intensifying even more to the point of melting the snow falling on you. Each kiss exuded forbidden desire and despair.

And even when you two pulled away, you didn’t keep any gap.

Just you and him.

As it was always supposed to be.

To feel.

To live.

Fluttering your eyes open, you come back to reality.

How did you get here?

It's a familiar scenario, or not.

Satoru arriving unannounced, you busy with household chores, your husband away for perhaps the next day.

But a premonition clouds all common sense.

This day is different. You don’t know from where, or who or what, but one thing is sure.

This time spent rambling has made you forget all about the dishes still waiting for you, while a plate and a sponge damp with foam hang from your hands. Another very humdrum day. Grey sky, water-logged clouds ready to pour and burst in a storm that never comes.

Satoru’s arms wrapped as a feather’s touch around you doesn’t feel as good and soothing as before.

“Missed ya,” he mumbles close to your ear. “How are you, darling?”

“You know that he could be here,” you scold in a low voice. “You can’t keep showing up at my door unannounced.” You continue with your dishes without returning any embrace. Nothing seems to fit. Your response is borderline nasty.

“You’re alright?” he asks softly anyway, not detaching himself from you.

His voice resonates like a cave inside you. A cheater who’s also unfairly mean, how can a better description describe you? you think.

You hum.

One of Satoru’s large, rough hands tenderly caresses your waist. “Do you have time for me? If you’re not tired, of course. I can’t help but need to crave your presence.”

Your heart slowly contorts in your chest, hidden beneath the cage of your ribs. “I didn’t mean to be rude, sorry—”

“Don’t apologize, love.” He presses a sluggish kiss on your cheek. “You must be so tired.”

Only the sound of the water rushing down in the sink can be heard in the kitchen. You close the tap and sigh, hands resting on the edge of the sink. “I need to finish the dishes and some chores, maybe you can sit on the couch and rest?” you offer, slightly turning your head around to meet his gaze.

How can a man be so perfect?

“I can help you,” he offers too, then puts a long forefinger on your lips to quiet you. “It wasn’t a question.”

If only this man could be your husband. Life would be easier in his company, wouldn’t it?

About half an hour later, Satoru fully joins you in your cleaning mission, tackling everything from the remaining dishes to the dusting and other tasks that make him scrunch up his nose in mild disdain.

As he wanders into the bedroom you share with your husband, Satoru passes by a photo frame he hasn’t truly noticed before. It’s a simple picture of you, smiling brighter than ever alongside a man who should be him. The man with HIS arm wrapped around your waist. The man with HIS lips pressed against your temple while, in Satoru’s eyes, you radiate as the sole light of his life in your wedding dress.

You pass quietly behind Satoru, a clean cloth in hand.

“Toru?” You rise slightly onto your toes to peek over his shoulder, noticing what has held his gaze for so long, leaving him as still as a statue. “Oh. I was going to clean that.”

Taking the frame into your hands, a pang of guilt twists your heart as Satoru’s blue eyes follow every inch of the photo. His gaze weighs on you, heavy and suffocating with discomfort.

One sweep of the cloth, and the modest frame gleams.

“Why do you keep it?” he asks in a breath.

You look up, your gaze as lost in his as you are. “What do you mean?”

“This picture,” he says, pointing at it with his finger. “Didn’t you say you wanted to throw it away?” His low tone brushes your cheek with a soft rumble, and his features tighten in a small frown of confusion, the weight of which seems to press on your soul.

“I—” You sigh. “My husband put it here. I don’t know why.”

“And you didn’t throw it away.”

You open your mouth to respond but hesitate, unsure of what to say.

“...You know I can make your life easier, don’t you?” Satoru murmurs as he slowly, almost theatrically, lets his arms wrap around you after tossing your cleaning cloth aside.

“I know,” you murmur, as if it’s the most obvious truth. As always, your body melts against his, the way two souls inevitably fuse together.

“Would you leave this life behind and finally settle down with me?” His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him as he takes a deep breath into the crook of your neck. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

The atmosphere in the room thickens suddenly. Guilt surges within you, as it always does. It seems like it can never leave you alone.

Of course, Satoru is hurt—that much is clear.

“I really would, Satoru, but right now, it’s complicated,” you breathe against his collarbone, the corners of your lips tugging downward.

“When will it stop being complicated, then? If not now, when?” His grip on you tightens.

“It’s not that simple.” Familiar terror coils in your stomach now, threatening to drown you. This conversation is heading toward turbulent waters.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to align his face with yours. His eyes search yours for answers. “You know, sometimes I wonder how long I can keep waiting for you to finally decide if I really matter.”

You blink twice, stunned, before resting your hands on his shoulders. “Hey. What do you mean by that? You matter to me—you know that, don’t you?” Your brows furrow gently, your expression softening despite the rising tension.

“I don’t want to hide anymore. And I don’t want to see you stressed about hiding either,” he whispers in a gruff tone. His expression mirrors your own: lips slightly pursed, brows furrowed, and eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and worry.

“I’m… sorry,” you murmur, the only words you can manage. They are genuine. They are truthful. Just like Satoru always is with you—never a lie.

Even when he leans down to kiss you slowly, you can feel his emotions pouring into it.

Hurt. Today, you ponder, returning the movement of his lips as your eyes flutter shut.

Quickly, the pressure of his lips grows more intense. Each time your mouths part, Satoru makes sure they reunite as swiftly as they separate. Breath soon becomes scarce, and things take a turn when his hands grip your hips so firmly you fear marks might be left behind. You try to pull away quickly.

“Satoru, wait— I need to be careful this time, you know,” you whisper softly against his fervent lips. “It’s been a while now that he’s started wondering why I don’t want to have sex with him.”

“You always come up with an excuse, don’t you? A few marks won’t mean anything,” he mutters, eyes closed, as though the fire within him burns hotter than ever for you.

“He’ll see them. I just want you to be careful,” you insist. But your attempt is futile, as his kisses grow more passionate. Each one is placed meticulously on the sensitive spots of your body while he gently guides you toward the bed, lowering you onto it.

“I want to please you so badly,” Satoru confesses, his vulnerable gaze meeting your half-lidded eyes as he hovers above you. His eyes brim with an intensity that makes your heart ache.

“Let me take care of you.”

Your expression softens immediately, the growing heat between your thighs matching the fire in your chest. “I want it too, baby. But are you sure you want to do this?”

He nods firmly. “I’m sure. And you?”

“I am.”

In the moments that follow, you no longer plead for him to avoid leaving marks. Deep down, you doubt he’ll listen to you on that.

Especially when his lips press against your neck, your collarbone, the shell of your ears, and the valley of your breasts. His mouth kisses, sucks, marks, nibbles, and even gently bites at your skin—all to draw whimpers, moans, and sighs of pleasure from your lips. The same lips he endlessly worships, just as he does every inch of you.

~~~~

Fresh out of the shower, alone but with your phone, you receive a message that immediately catches your attention as you sit cautiously against the edge of your bathtub.

I might be a little late tonight. Have dinner without me.

Your heart immediately falls into the pit of your stomach.

Is this for your co-worker again? Can’t she finish her work on her own like everyone else?

A minute later, a message appears:

It’s normal, I’m her superior.

At the same time, your eyelids contract around your eyeballs. You feel a rush of heat, and adrenalin tingles your insides.

You know I don’t like her. And yet you continue to spend more time with her than with me. Do you think that's normal?

Why do you always have to get mad? Just admit that you’re jealous.

And the last word is like a slap in the face.

This is how you started.

Part of you knew it all along. But another part was in denial. It was shortly before Satoru became your lover that your husband started seeing a female colleague far too often, making eyes at her while you stood there like an idiot, watching them exchange glances where your voice would carry the same weight as the silence of their own eye contact: nothing.

Satoru had warned you.

He tried to prevent your heart from breaking as much as possible.

And this is the result when denial wins out over reason:

...You like to call me ‘jealous’ these days, tell me?

And the irony reeks in your message.

Of course, he started calling you ever since that infamous colleague showed up.

It’s as if he’s implying every time that you’d be envious of something you don’t have. So, it’s easy to figure out now, isn’t it? Why would he even talk about jealousy otherwise?

And why does he just leave your message on ‘read’?

~~~~

“I told you to be careful.”

“You always know how to escape him.”

“I’m running out of excuses.”

“You’re smart. You’ll fix it. As you fix everything.”

And who to fix me?

Sitting in front of your vanity, you swallow, feeling sick to your stomach as the purple and blue marks Satoru has left on your body from his hickeys don’t disappear from your view even as you discreetly pinch your arm to check you're in a nightmare.

Unfortunately no.

After pressing your anxiety-stricken face into your trembling hands, you lift your head to meet your reflection once more. In the corner of the mirror, Satoru’s silhouette lies casually, a smug, teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Your shaky fingers grab hold of your cheap foundation, the cap refusing to budge under the weakness of your frantic movements. Every second wasted only fuels the growing panic — your husband could walk in at any moment.

The beauty blender, however, seems just as uncooperative. Each attempt leaves you looking more like a clown. No coverage.

Only regrets. Regrets you can no longer conceal, no matter how much you try.

A heavy, trembling sigh escapes you despite your best efforts to stay calm. From behind, Satoru lets out a distinct chuckle, rich with amusement at your growing frustration.

He’s moved closer now, standing right behind you, his gaze almost entertained as he watches you struggle to mask the marks with concealer this time. But no layer of makeup can save you. None is thick enough or looks natural enough to hide what you’ve done.

“Why are you even trying? It’s not going to work,” Satoru whispers close to your ear. “Why not just give up and tell him the truth?”

“Satoru, get out.”

“Make me.” His tone is dripping with that insufferable grin.

You clench your fists, fighting the urge to smash it right off his face. Your heart hammers in your chest like cannonballs, threatening to break free from your compressed rib cage.

Everything can’t fall apart this quickly, can it?

Not after all the effort you’ve put in.

“You look like a clown, by the way,” he quips, the bluntness of his words scratching your heart. You let out an involuntary, quiet, “Ouch.”

“Did you just come here to use me as your personal slut? To call me a clown? If I knew, I wouldn’t have let you in at all,” you spit as you turn your head, locking your glare onto his.

Satoru’s expression softens at the sight of your deepening frown. “I didn’t come for that. And you’re not a slut. Why are you so mad?” He cautiously places his hands on the backrest of your chair, his movements calculated.

You scoff bitterly. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“You’re still mad about the marks? It’s just a few bites and hickeys—it’s not that big a deal,” he says, though his face mirrors yours: tense, confused, and searching for answers.

He’s never been like this.

“If you’re hurt, then I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I just want you to stop stressing over some bites. I’ve always done this. I haven’t changed, you know.”

You turn completely in your chair to face him, blood rushing in your temples. “Tell me this is a joke. Or a prank.”

“I said I’m—”

“Why didn’t you listen to me about the marks? About the fact that I don’t have any excuses left? He’s going to find out now. And instead of helping me, you’re mocking me because I look like shit with this?” you shout, pointing at the streaky, cakey makeup smeared over your collarbone.

Is this what a couple looks like? Fighting to hurt each other as much as possible?

Satoru can see how deeply his behavior wounds you. The way you swallow carefully, trying to keep your emotions at bay. The way your eyes are beginning to redden, signaling the impending arrival of tears.

Lowering his voice, he speaks, hoping against hope that you’ll break down and let him handle everything. Let him erase this life with your husband and give you a better one. He knows you can keep living under a mountain of lies, but he’s suffocating.

“Okay, I’m really sorry if I hurt you,” he murmurs.

“If you were that sorry, you wouldn’t lie about using me whenever you please. You wouldn’t just act how you want without asking me what I truly want or need. Why? Because you’re selfish, Gojo,” you snap, your voice cracking slightly. You rise abruptly from the chair, intent on leaving the room before you explode.

He immediately grabs your wrist, pulling you into him, and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. The panic in his movements betrays him—he’s afraid you’ll say something that will tear him apart.

“Don’t—Don’t call me that. Sweetheart—”

“You know what? Just tell me I’m your slut. Because that’s clearly what I’m meant to be for you,” you cut him off, tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to fall. You yank your wrist out of his grip with a sharp movement.

His hands move to cup your face, desperation bleeding through his trembling fingers, even as he tries to conceal it.

“Okay, I messed up. But please, don’t degrade yourself. You’re not my slut. You’re the only person I love and care about. I—” He exhales shakily, his jaw tightening and relaxing in quick succession. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… I’m so damn jealous. I get so jealous when I think about him… with you. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“Is that all this is? Jealousy? What’s the fucking point of it?” you retort, shoving his hands and arms away with enough force to make your blood boil. Then, in a blind fury, you hurl the concealer bottle across the room, the sound of it hitting the wall echoing like a final, deafening blow.

Satoru flinches slightly at the sound of the concealer bottle hitting the floor. He knows you’re holding back, teetering on the edge of exploding. “It’s not just jealousy,” he admits softly. “It’s fear, anger... and love, I guess.” He runs a tired hand through his snowy hair, sighing deeply. “And knowing I can’t have you the way I want to… that drives me insane.”

A vein pulses visibly in your temple, your frustration bubbling over. “You drive me insane!” you snap, jabbing your finger into his chest.

For a brief moment, Satoru’s lips almost curl into a smirk, but he stops himself when he sees the fire blazing in your eyes. He knows you’re serious, that this isn’t the time for his antics. Yet he can’t help but find you captivating like this—unapologetically yourself.

“Yeah, I’d say the feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow, his gaze dropping momentarily to the finger poking his chest as though he’s admiring your nerve.

The silence that follows is suffocating. The only sounds are your heated, shallow breaths, echoing in the small space between you.

You take several slow, deliberate steps back, your eyes fixed on his ocean-blue gaze. You catch the flicker of a moment—a split second where his eyes dart to your lips.

The tension between you is almost unbearable. The faint brush of his hips against yours as he steps closer sends a ripple of unease and anticipation through you. Your breaths mingle in the narrowing space. You both know exactly what’s happening, yet neither of you moves to break it.

“I hate you, you know that?” you whisper, pouring all the bitterness and hurt from your chest into the words.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his face a mere breath away from yours. His broad, powerful form looms over you, trapping you against the wall without lifting a single hand. The tension radiating from him is magnetic, suffocating.

“That’s a lie, and we both know it,” he says, his voice soft and calm, but laced with that maddening confidence.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, the light graze of your body against his and the fiery defiance in your darkened eyes making him dangerously close to losing control. He wants to kiss you—devour you—so badly it hurts. But he knows he’s already crossed lines, already messed up.

He clenches his fists, willing himself to stay composed. He would never take advantage of you like this. He’d rather let you hurt him, use him, break him into pieces.

Oh, screw it.

“Sweetheart,” he mouths, barely audible. His lips form the words so softly that you have to read them. His intense eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering. “What are you thinking right now?”

“This isn’t the time for your stupid jokes—”

He silences you with a single, long finger placed gently on your lips. “Answer the question, love.” His towering frame looms closer, his voice a deep rumble, and the tension only thickens.

You take a shaky breath. “Y-Yell at you, hit you, throw everything I have at you to finally make your goddamn mouth shut for good,” you hiss, your anger slipping through the cracks in your voice.

“Do it, then. I’m the one who’s wrong.”

Your lips part, and your eyes widen in surprise.

Satoru grabs your trembling hand and firmly places it against his chest, right over his racing heart. His voice softens. “Go on. Yell at me. Hit me. Use me however you need to.”

His pulse mirrors yours, beating in sync, loud and unruly.

Your gaze catches the subtle flicker of his eyes darting to your lips again, the ever-so-slight sway of his body bringing him closer.

When you lift your hand, Satoru doesn’t flinch. He braces himself, ready to take whatever you’re about to give him.

But instead of striking him, your hand fists the collar of his shirt. With one hard tug, you pull him down, crashing his mouth onto yours in a desperate, fiery kiss as though it’s your last breath.

Satoru responds immediately, kissing you back with the same raw intensity. His large hands snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips, teeth, and tongue all move in a fervent, chaotic dance with yours, each touch more intoxicating than the last.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his lips still brushing against yours. He doesn’t let you go, his arms holding you close as if letting you go would shatter him.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice low and rough, chest heaving against yours. His hand trails to your neck, then your jaw, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What are you thinking now?”

His warm, uneven breaths ghost over your lips, and you fight the overwhelming urge to kiss him again. Your anger hasn’t fully subsided, still simmering beneath the surface.

“You. You’re haunting me. Sometimes so much that I can’t think of anything else,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

His eyes burn brighter, the ardor in them impossible to miss. “God, sweetheart…” he murmurs, pressing soft, fluttering kisses along your neck, his lips scorching your sensitive skin. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. Only you. No more lies, no more heartbreak.”

Each kiss he plants on your skin draws breathy, unsteady sighs from your lips. “Y-You’re selfish…” you manage to say between ragged breaths, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his biceps. “So fucking selfish…”

“If being this desperate for you, for your love, is selfish, then I’m on my knees, my love,” he replies, his voice like velvet. He kisses the marks on your skin, the ones you tried to cover, with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I’m all yours. Completely yours.”

He slides the strap of your tank top down, revealing more of the skin he adores. His lips graze it gently as he whispers, “I didn’t mean a single word about you looking like a clown. I just want you to be happy… with someone who loves you and doesn’t cheat on you.”

His hands cup your face delicately, tilting it up so your eyes meet his. His voice drops to a whisper, raw and sincere. “I’m deeply sorry, sweetheart.”

The genuine vulnerability in his gaze hits you hard.

You punch his chest — not out of anger, but because you don’t know what else to do with the emotions clawing at your chest. “I hate you, remember?”

A smile spreads across Satoru’s face, soft and warm, despite the tension in the room. “As much as I’m obsessed with you.”

Your free hand tangles itself in his silky white hair, tugging lightly as your fingers weave through the strands. With just enough force, you pull him down once again, capturing his lips in a searing, passionate kiss that holds every ounce of anger, frustration, and longing you feel for him.

As surprising as it may seem, Satoru lets a smile stretch against your lips — pressed together in a sloppy, wet kiss that blends tongues, lips, and teeth. Your chest, magnetized to his, feels the pounding of his heart, each beat drumming against you like a bass drum.

Your teeth part, biting his lower lip cruelly, hard enough for a faint taste of blood to seep into your mouth. Yet, he doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he lets himself get intoxicated by your steamy breath, swallowing every gasp of air you exhale as if it’s his only source of oxygen.

With a natural ease, one of Satoru’s hands grabs yours and pins them above your head, pressing them against the wall as his pelvis grinds into yours. You feel the growing bulge you’ve provoked pressing against you.

“See what you do to me?” he breathes in your ear, breaking the kiss sloppily.

“And you’ll lose it completely when I fuck you until I’m the only one you’re thinking of,” you snap back, wrapping one leg around his hip before climbing fully onto him. With both legs now locked around his waist, your back is pinned to the wall, and your newly freed hands are poised to ravage your lover.

Blood rushes through your temples, creating a buzz in your ears. Your flushed ears mirror the crimson tips of Satoru’s. Supporting you with one arm, he uses the other to trace a finger across your lips, smearing the remnants of his blood there.

“Can’t wait to think even more of you — even though you already fill all my dreams and nightmares,” he murmurs with a sly grin. Then, both hands slide to your thighs, gripping them as he carries you to the bed—the same bed where you had your last steamy session with him.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, Satoru settles between your legs while you lay back comfortably, fully aware he plans to take care of you before you ruin him. With practiced ease, his rough but tender hands remove your pajama shorts and panties, discarding them to the floor with a soft rustle. Your skin is adorned with earlier marks—purplish bruises, handprints, and hickeys — all of which tell a story (a decidedly sexy one, at that).

Just the sight of your spread legs, offering him an unobstructed view of your glistening, swollen folds — still slick from earlier—ignites a fiery tremor in his core. He’s practically salivating at the sight but regains focus when your heel presses sharply against his shoulder, a silent demand for urgency.

“Don’t make me wait,” you mouth, locking your gaze with his as his mouth inches dangerously close to your core.

Impatience mingles with the tension crackling between you. The moment his lips close around your clit, a hiss escapes your mouth.

Your fingers thread through his snow-white hair as though it’s the only lifeline keeping you from falling into the abyss. His warm, skilled tongue laps at your folds with slow, ravenous intensity. Every stroke of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure surging through you, spurring him to drink you in until his thirst is quenched.

“Satoru, f-fast—ah,” you stammer when his tongue flicks your now puffy, sensitive clit with pinpoint precision.

Your eyes roll back, your breath quickens, and your body trembles with each wave of pleasure. Your hands tug incessantly at his hair, driving him absolutely wild.

“Faster?” He looks up at you, his mouth still latched onto your center. “Is that what you—lick—want? Keep ripping my hair out, then.”

And that’s exactly what he makes you do. Your hips buck involuntarily toward his face, and he grunts in approval, gripping your hips with his large hands. Then, he lifts your legs over his arms and shoulders, perfectly positioning himself to devour you even more deeply.

Determined to make you cum as quickly as possible, the tip of his tongue teases your dripping, needy entrance. He feels your walls fluttering, your core pulsing and throbbing, empty and desperate.

The idea of filling you crosses his mind.

“Poor thing needs to be filled, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his voice thick and gravelly.

When he slides a long finger into you — slowly, carefully — the way your velvety walls clench tightly around him nearly makes him lose control on the spot. You grip his digit so tightly, drawing him deeper, that every movement inside you elicits louder, breathier curses laced with frustration.

“Don’t try to mock me, you bast— ah!” you moan, throwing your head back on the mattress the second after the pad of his forefinger reached your cervix — a spot that you can never reach yourself and even your husband. “Oh my God, I hate you so much…”

“You know what I love the most when we’re doing it?” Satoru whispers with a smirk, bringing his damp lips back to your clit to suck your bud at the same time as he’s fingering you. “When you lose all—kiss—your—lick—control—suck—only from my touch, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs against your core, his finger curling up right in your sweet spot. “Say you hate me baby, I’m just waiting for you to be ready and take care of me.”

“I—you buck your hips harder—hate you,” you groan louder and firmer than earlier and clench around him right before cumming hard, hips bucking up against him and arching your back with no control over it.

Your vision blurs and star-like spots pop on your darkening vision. The intensity of your orgasm crashes over you so hard that for a few seconds, you’re losing almost all your senses — hearing, sight and touch — because of your mind going dizzy.

When the sensation wears off, a quick glance to the side reveals an already undressed Satoru, his impatient length just waiting for your attention — already twitching and hard like rock for you.

With a wry smile plastered to his lips, he reaches over you to grab your hips and gently lift you up and switch places — him lying on his back and you sitting so sensuously on top of him with your thighs delicately wrapped around his hips. He can't resist submitting to you completely.

Your still pulsing core rests straight on his cock, like you are riding him for real — or not yet.

Your senses restored, you don’t wait long before raising your hips, Satoru’s hands still holding them, and taking in his drooling length of precum with one hand. As you lower your hips, the fat tip of Satoru's dick pushes forward your hole and gets trapped in your walls glistening with your juices.

You both moan at the same time, head throwing back and mouth open ajar from the strong pleasure. Each inch that was moving further more into your cunt until the mushroom tip kisses your cervix was already being milked because your walls are so fucking sensitive that it’s making Satoru’s eyes roll back and babble nonsense.

“Sweet— Sweetheart, don’t squeeze y-yet, I need time to—” But you cut him off with your forefinger pressed against his handsome lips.

“Nuh-uh.” You lean in with a mischievous smile plastered on your face, eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of being on top of him. “You’re going to be a good boy and take my pussy, understood?” And you punctuate your warning with a sharp bounce of your hips that makes him moan with pleasure then nod hurriedly.

“Mhh—hmph!”

So you start moving your hips up and down with purposeful slowness.

Your hand wraps around his throat and squeezes gently. Your hips bounce harder each time, and you ignore Satoru’s uncontrolled moans, which, despite his clenched jaw, can't help letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“Who’s a good boy, tell me?” you ask, thrusting down your hips along his cock harder once more.

“N-Not gonna say it, sweetie,” Satoru chokes out between breathless hiccups because your hand squeezes his throat harder. “You can bet it— God…” He can feel your walls tightening around him, your core pulsing and his length throbbing inside you and at the verge of spilling out all the cum his sensitive balls were holding back. His hands grip your hips with more force that it’ll leave marks but you both don’t care anymore.

It’s just you and him having sex to see who will break first.

Your heavy, noisy breaths — not to mention the wet sounds of your skin slapping against each other — fill the room. Hot blood courses through both your veins, but nothing can stop your hips from slamming mercilessly into Satoru, tightening every time you’re bouncing on him.

Even though you two are at the verge of reaching orgasm, you wanted to have your way with him this time.

“I hate you, Satoru Gojo,” you groan, leaning your chest against his before moving faster as your breath. His arms wrap around your back to get you close and then he can start matching your movements.

He presses his lips on your ear and whispers breathlessly, “I’m your, utterly yours,” right before cumming at the same time as your, his semen filling immediately your cunt as you clench around him and let out a similar pathetic whimper like him.

Toes curled up and eyelids shutting down, you both hug each other until the orgasm goes away. Not before a good one minute. Silence fills the room before your brain melts away to focus on the still rapid beating of your heart against Satoru’s chest.

“After this, I’ll help you pack your important things and we go home. Our true home, okay?” he murmurs against your ear. “I’ll give you the life you want and deserve, sweetheart. No need to think about anything or anyone else.” And he concludes with a loving kiss on your temple as you nod, resting your cheek on his collarbone.

His big hand runs through your tousled hair before continuing to tenderly kiss your burning faces.

“I hate you,” you mumble, your mind growing heavy for a sleep.

“I love you too.”

a/n: it's been a while that i didn’t write a long one-shot like this one but it’s relaxing in a way lol. a big thank you for @/lymsfm for helping me through this hell, i genuinely don’t know what i would do without you and sorry for all my rants and your patience by listening to me getting crazy for literally everything 😭. so on this, i hope you guys enjoyed this fic and see you soon! <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @catrizzz @sanemistar

@monokaix @moonlitwitchdaisy

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