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pin-k-ink · 3 months ago

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NO ROOM FOR DOUBT ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ marriage isn’t supposed to feel this empty, but osamu’s starting to think you’re slipping through his fingers. he doesn’t mean to accuse you of anything, but when your coworker’s name leaves your lips one too many times, he snaps. you barely get a word in before he’s on you—angry, desperate, and determined to remind you who you belong to.

tags ➸ jealousy, insecurities, hurt/comfort, mild angst, profanity, mild dom/sub dynamics, degràdation, nípple play, dírty talking, breéding kínk, creampíe, rough séx, hand job, oral séx, praise kìnk, facial, unprotécted sèx

wc ➸ 11k

The bedroom was thick with tension as Osamu closed the book he'd been pretending to read for the past hour. Across the room, you remained diligently hunched over your desk - brow furrowed, pen scratching furiously, completely absorbed in your never-ending work. Just like every other night lately.

"Ya plannin' on joinin' me over here anytime soon?" Osamu finally broke the silence, unable to stomach being ignored and alone a moment longer. "Gettin' kinda cold and lonely in this big bed all by myself."

He made sure to inject just the right amount of heated suggestion into his tone. The kind that used to have you instantly abandoning your tasks to satisfy the mutual craving you couldn't resist giving in to. But just like every other attempt at intimacy lately, you didn't even look up from your paperwork.

"I can't, Osamu. This proposal is really important and I've got to have it ready to present first thing in the morning," you replied distractedly, hiding behind that same worn-out excuse as always. "It's going to be another couple hours at least before I can call it a night."

A muscle ticked in Osamu's chiseled jaw as his patience began eroding. This was just a never-ending cycle - you constantly burying yourself in work until you were too drained for anything other than collapsing into an exhausted, dreamless sleep far away from his arms. Meanwhile, he lay awake most nights, body thrumming with unbearable arousal and need as his mind tormented him with memories of how ravenous you'd once been for each other.

Osamu could vividly recall the exact curve of your arched spine as you'd kneel over him, all nude feminine softness and aching desperation. How your tongue would trail hot, openmouthed kisses from his navel to the drooling tip of his iron length, never taking your lidded eyes off his as you hollowed those perfect lips around his girth. The way you'd moan shamelessly around his cock when he fisted those silky tresses, using that divine warmth and pressure as the first of many selfish indulgences for the night.

He could picture the exact flare of your hips as you rode him cowgirl, riding his cock until he thought he'd slip into unconsciousness from the sheer unbearable pleasure. Those lush breasts would sway and jiggle with each erotic roll of your body, nipples pebbled with rapture as your slick walls massaged and milked every maddening inch of his thickness. Osamu always had to fight with everything in him not to lose control and start jackhammering up into that molten, velvet glove squeezing him to oblivion.

And even in the afterglow of coating your convulsing insides with his thick seed, their passion never dimmed. There was always another round of foreplay to indulge - his calloused palms branding the plush silk of your ass cheeks as he rutted against you from behind. Or his lips dragging over the aching throbbing of your clit as you shrieked through full-body shudders of bliss, actively ruining his face with your cream.

Osamu didn't care what degrading, filthy acts you subjected him to when your inhibitions were lowered. All he craved was wringing pleasure from your trembling form until you were both mindless, depraved wrecks overdosing on endorphins and the scent of your mingled passion.

But lately, his hunger went completely unslaked. You were always shutting him out, too preoccupied with your work to even touch or be touched. That blazing passion you'd once indulged so spontaneously and shamelessly had dimmed to bitter embers of resentment and stifling, endless tension.

Which was what led to Osamu's newest, most insidious torment - the poisonous creep of envy and anxiety whenever you mentioned that coworker constantly singing your praises.

Osamu tried not to let the jealousy show, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to bury those insecure feelings. You talked about your coworker constantly - this brilliant, ambitious "guy" you collaborated so closely with on major projects. Osamu couldn't help wondering if the intense admiration in your voice when you praised this man's professionalism and impressive work ethic hid something more.

After all, everyone in your family had been vehemently against you marrying someone like Osamu when you first got together. They'd wanted you to find a wealthy businessman, someone who could properly provide the lavish lifestyle they felt you deserved. But you had fallen even more deeply in love with Osamu's steadfast determination to make your chosen partnership work, despite your relatives' objections.

You'd stood firm in your commitment to the humble yet passionate chef who stole your heart. But now, years into your marriage, Osamu could feel the insidious tendril of doubt and anxiety taking root. Were you regretting your decision? Did some part of you regret not listening to your family and choosing stability and status over being saddled with someone like him?

He tried smothering those poisonous thoughts underneath the soul-deep love and adoration he had for you, convincing himself it was just irrational possessiveness. But the more you spoke about this mysterious coworker, the more Osamu's sense of inadequacy flared. This man seemingly had everything he lacked - money, ambition, societal respect. No wonder you were burying yourself in work to spend more time around someone who exemplified the qualities your family had pushed you to seek in a partner.

Osamu missed the way your relationship used to be before this gulf opened between you - back when he could surprise you at your office for a spontaneous lunch or quickie in the bathroom. He grinned reminiscently at the memories of having you bent over the desk, documents and office supplies clattering to the floor as he hungrily explored your body. You'd beg for him not to stop, to take you harder and deeper even as your coworkers milled about just outside none the wiser.

But those impromptu encounters had all but stopped over the past couple of months. Now when Osamu tried to initiate anything intimate, even at home in the privacy of your bedroom, you gently but dismissively waved him off - too tired, too preoccupied with work, or simply "not in the mood" thanks to stress. Each repeated rejection was like another dagger to his heart and his increasingly fragile ego.

So Osamu did his best to bury the hurt and the aching need you weren't fulfilling. He told himself it was just a rut your marriage was going through, that the scorching passion would inevitably rekindle once this busy period passed. You loved him - you'd sacrificed so much to be with him against your family's wishes, after all.

And yet...Osamu couldn't fully silence the nagging doubts constantly echoing in the back of his mind every time you mentioned that mysterious coworker's name. He couldn't ignore the way his chest clenched painfully whenever you praised the other man's intelligence, ambition, and impressive accomplishments - all things Osamu knew he could never provide you no matter how successful his onigiri business became.

It made him wonder if some part of you did regret the life you'd chosen, no matter how deeply you still loved him. Osamu couldn't help feeling increasingly like he wasn't enough of a man to truly satisfy the brilliant woman he'd married and adored for so many years. Like a legitimate future with someone like your admired coworker was the path you deserved, even if you didn't realize it yet yourself.

So Osamu simply withdrew more into himself, burying his hurt and hunger for your intimacy and unconsciously giving you even more space to invest yourself in work - and perhaps in another man's company without even realizing it. All because some traitorous part of his heart couldn't help wondering if he'd forever be seen as the wrong choice as a husband, no matter how selflessly he loved you.

A couple more hours dragged by in tense silence, the only sound being the occasional scratch of your pen against paper as you continued working diligently at your desk. Osamu's eyes kept flicking over to you, noticing the way the lamplight accentuated the furrow in your brow and the purse of your lips as you remained fully immersed in the proposal.

He felt the knot of frustration and desire tightening in his gut with each passing minute you diligently ignored him and the intimacy he was silently begging for. This couldn't go on any longer - he needed to feel that physical connection with you again before the ache drove him mad.

"Enough, sweetheart," Osamu stated firmly, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice as impatience finally won out. "Put the work down and get your gorgeous ass over here already. I'm done waitin'."

You finally looked up at him, startled by his uncharacteristically stern tone. For a beat, Osamu thought you might protest and dig your heels in about finishing the proposal. But something in his expression must have conveyed the simmering need, as you hesitated before giving a small nod.

With palpable reluctance, you set your pen aside and began gathering up the strewn paperwork into some semblance of order. Osamu watched every agonizing movement hungrily, from the way you licked your lips to the distracting sway of your hips as you pushed away from the desk at last.

He drank in every inch of you as you padded slowly toward the bed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked disheveled yet impossibly beautiful in that oversized shirt - the one he loved seeing you lounge around in because of how easily it could slip off those soft curves with just a bit of impatient tugging.

Osamu's arousal spiked painfully as you finally settled onto the mattress beside him, close enough now that he could smell the lingering hint of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off your body. He didn't even try to mask the pure, wanton hunger in his gaze as it raked over your form shamelessly.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he surged forward and captured your lips in a searing, needful kiss. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth but didn't pull away as his tongue boldly sought entrance. Osamu growled at the first teasing taste of you, fingers already clutching at your waist as if to pull you fully against him.

But you went rigid in his embrace, keeping a deliberate slice of distance between your bodies. When you broke the heated kiss, you turned your face away with a soft, "Not tonight, Osamu...I'm way too tired from working."

He fought not to let the biting sting of rejection show on his face, swallowing hard against it. "I've missed ya, darlin'...missed this," Osamu murmured, letting the rough pad of his thumb trace the plump swell of your lower lip in a silent plea. "Isn't there any part of ya that's missed me too?"

You hesitated, gaze skittering guiltily across his features. Something flickered in the depths of your eyes - that same dimmed spark of desire he saw more and more rarely these days. Then it was gone again, shuttered behind bone-deep weariness and excuses.

"I'm sorry, I know it's been a while..." you began, genuine regret lacing your tone. "But this proposal is really important, and I've got to be rested enough to present it to the board in the morning. I promise, after this is all over, we can..."

The unfinished reassurance trailed off into tense silence as you averted your gaze, unable or unwilling to even voice a promise of making time for intimacy again. Osamu swallowed hard, pulse thundering with mingled frustration and humiliated rejection.

So this was what it had come to - empty platitudes and obligatory excuses to avoid being touched by the husband who had once been unable to keep his hands off you. Somehow your flourishing career and singular focus on work had managed to obliterate any space for him in your world.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard against the torrent of bitterness and sorrow he refused to let overwhelm him. Without another word, he rolled over to put his back to you, fighting against the urge to simply leave and go sleep on the couch. At least then he could sink into his misery in solitude without your unintended presence serving as a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

The next morning, Osamu awoke to the soft sounds of you getting ready for work. He lay there for a few minutes, eyes still closed as he tried to savor these final moments before the day inevitably pulled you away from him again. God, he missed the times when you used to linger in bed together before reluctantly untangling and starting your day.

Eventually, he couldn't resist sneaking a look at you. Osamu rolled onto his side, sheets pooling around his waist as he allowed his hungry gaze to roam over the alluring display you made. You were bent over the dresser in just a crisp button-down and lacy underwear, applying your makeup with those little focused furrows in your brow that he found so endearing. The firm swell of your ass was positioned enticingly in the air, practically begging for his calloused palms to shamelessly grope and knead the supple flesh.

Arousal began smoldering low in Osamu's gut as he drank in every lush inch of you. Your hair was still sleep-mussed, silky strands spilling over one shoulder in a way that made him ache to brush them aside and trail openmouthed kisses along the naked column of your neck. He found himself licking his lips instinctively, imagining the way you'd taste - how you used to whimper and arch shamelessly into his questing mouth whenever he leisurely explored your body with his own first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist the siren call a moment longer, Osamu threw off the sheets and padded silently up behind you. You jumped a little when his arms wound around your waist, the hard planes of his chest pressing flush against your back. But you didn't immediately push him away as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking in a deep breath of your intoxicating scent.

"Mornin', gorgeous," Osamu rumbled, voice still gruff with sleep. He punctuated the gravelly endearment by walking his fingers tantalizingly up the soft panes of your stomach, reveling in the sharp hitch of your breath when they grazed the lace-trimmed underside of your breasts. "Ya got any time to spend with your husband before leavin' for work this mornin'?"

Something in you seemed to soften at his words, the perpetual tension temporarily ebbing from your frame. Osamu couldn't deny the molten rush of arousal that licked through his veins when you arched subtly back against him - a blatant, wanton invitation despite the strict professional attire.

"I might be able to spare a few minutes," you murmured, tilting your head to allow his lips better access to your throat.

Osamu hummed deep in his chest, the vibration thrumming against your skin as his fingertips continued their leisurely stroking and teasing. His teeth grazed the thundering pulse point at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, not quite biting but exerting enough pressure to make you stifle a whimper. He took his time working over that same maddening patch of sensitive flesh - laving with his tongue, sucking harsh little marks against your salty-sweet skin, utterly worshipping you in a way he hadn't been able to in far too long.

By the time his questing mouth finally slanted over yours, you were already pliant and shamelessly seeking more in his embrace. The kiss quickly turned molten, all clashing teeth and dueling tongues as weeks of pent-up hunger and need poured out between you both. Osamu's hands roamed greedily from your hips down to the lush curves of your ass, squeezing with shameless possession before yanking your lower body flush against the undeniable ridge of his arousal.

You mewled into his mouth, the wanton little sound shooting straight to his cock and making it judder eagerly. For an endless moment, it seemed as though you were on the precipice of giving in fully. Osamu could already envision bending you over the dresser and stuffing you absolutely full of his aching cock, uncaring of how late you'd be to work. He was drunk on the honeyed taste of your mouth, the sultry roll of your hips grinding back eagerly against him.

Then, all at once, you were breaking the heated kiss with a strangled gasp. There was a beat where you simply clung to one another, panting harshly as if struggling to rein in your spiraling lust. When you finally managed to speak, your voice was thick and throaty in a way that made Osamu's cock throb with need.

"Gods, I've missed this, missed you..." you confessed in a throaty murmur, sounding genuinely contrite. You turned in Osamu's embrace then, locking your heavy-lidded gaze with his in a way that made his heart stutter behind his ribs. The naked yearning and simmering desire he saw smoldering in your hooded eyes was like a searing brand against his already feverish skin.

"I'm so sorry for being so distant lately," you continued, chest still rising and falling with dampened little pants from the heated make-out session. One of your hands stroked a tender path down the ridged planes of Osamu's abdomen, nails lightly raking through the crisp trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his loose sleep pants. "I know the work can't be an excuse forever. I promise, tonight I'll leave the office early and we can have the whole evening together...just the two of us."

The husky timbre of your voice combined with that single, deliberate caress had Osamu's neglected cock stirring almost painfully against the flimsy fabric restraining it. He couldn't quite bite back the guttural rumble of need that reverberated up from his very core as your fingers continued their teasing exploration lower and lower. You offered the faintest of smirks as your palm finally cupped and squeezed the unmistakable shape of his rapidly stiffening length through the thin material.

"Fuck, darlin'...ya really know how to make a man suffer, don'tcha?" Osamu ground out through gritted teeth as he moved to sat down on the edge of the bed before his knees gave out entirely. He watched in rapt fascination as your tongue peeked out to wet your plump lips - a deliciously sinful invitation in its own right. But it was the imperious glint flickering to life in your eyes that truly made his cock twitch and strain against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed and indulged.

You held his heated stare boldly as you continued shamelessly fondling and stroking him to full, throbbing hardness. There was something deliciously intoxicating about having your petite hand working his most intimate places so deliberately, as if he were powerless to resist giving you whatever depravity you desired. As if you knew precisely how badly he craved feeling that velvet grip moments before coating your knuckles in his shameless release.

"I'm not the one suffering here, babe," you purred, giving his aching shaft one final rough caress that nearly bucked his hips off the mattress. "You're the one walking around with this monster straining in your pants all damn day, just waiting for me to give it some attention."

The hairs along Osamu's nape and forearms instantly prickled at your crude observation - not from offense, but from the undeniable bolt of molten arousal zinging straight to his groin at being talked about so blatantly. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, glaring down at you with a heady mixture of reproach and smoldering desire flickering in the gunmetal depths of his stare.

You didn't back down from the challenge, letting your palm drag up and over his length in one torturously slow glide. Then deft fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging the loose material down just enough for his flushed cock to spring free with a harsh intake of breath punching from Osamu's chest. His hands fisted in the disheveled bedsheets as you wrapped your fingers around the thick, pulsing shaft in a firm grip.

"Maybe I should take care of this right now before I head into the office," you mused idly, giving him a few light pumps that had Osamu clenching his jaw to stifle a groan. "At least give me a few more hours before you start going stir-crazy thinking about me all over again..."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Osamu was surging forward, one calloused palm cupping the nape of your neck to yank you into a searing kiss. You let out a muffled yelp of surprise against his lips that was quickly swallowed by his questing tongue delving into the slick, honeyed heat of your mouth. Evidently you'd awoken the ravenous beast within by your blatant taunting and teasing - something dark and blazing now flickering to life behind Osamu's blown pupils.

"Be careful what ya tempt me with, baby girl," he rumbled in a low, gravelly warning as his hips lurched into the tight channel of your fist. "I might just take ya up on a hell of a lot more than that pretty little hand of yours..."

Your pupils blew wider at the explicit promise scorching every word, chest arching into his solid frame as your fingers instinctively tightened around his steely girth. Osamu hissed out a curse at the exquisite friction, thick droplets of precum already welling up and spilling over your pumping knuckles to ease the slick, heated glide.

You licked your lips unconsciously as your gaze dropped to drink in the vulgar sight of your fist working his flushed cock with more fervid urgency. There was an almost transfixed, rapturous look glazing over your features - as if you were utterly enthralled watching Osamu's thick length disappear between your fingers again and again in a messy rhythm. He could feel the rapidly mounting tension lancing through his spine, the telltale tingling heat sizzling out from his groin with each firm pull of your hand along his shaft.

But even as pleasure threatened to steal the last of his composure, Osamu still mustered the strength to reach down, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your dress shirt, intent on returning the favor. His pulse jackhammered against his sternum as he tugged the crisp white material away, revealing the lacy undergarment clinging to the supple swell of your breasts.

He felt the hot bloom of need flare in his gut, unable to resist the temptation to squeeze and knead the ample flesh. Your eyelids fluttered shut with a breathy moan as he toyed with your nipples, teasing them into stiff, rosy peaks that strained against the sheer lace. The air left Osamu's lungs in a harsh, strangled hiss as you tightened your grip around his swollen cock, a fresh wave of precum trickling down the flushed shaft.

It was all he could do not to simply rip the garment off you in a fit of desperate hunger. Instead, he pulled the cups down beneath the generous swell of your breasts, revealing the taut, pebbled buds and making a hungry growl reverberate deep in his chest.

"I've missed these so fuckin' much," Osamu rasped, voice hoarse with arousal. His thumbs dragged across the sensitive tips, reveling in the way they hardened further at his touch. "Been dreamin' of puttin' my mouth all over 'em again."

Without waiting for a response, Osamu leaned down and wrapped his lips around one eager nipple, letting his tongue swirl and flick over the bud. He was rewarded with a soft, breathy cry as your grip faltered, pleasure momentarily stealing away the ability to maintain the steady rhythm. But you quickly recovered, hand resuming its quick, urgent pace while the other tangled in the wild tresses at his nape, pressing his face closer into the inviting softness of your breasts.

A low, needful groan vibrated through the sensitive flesh in his mouth, making you whimper. Your nails bit into his scalp, holding him in place while his tongue worked and laved over the hardened tip, thoroughly lavishing the pebbled peak with his mouth and attention. Osamu's mind was spinning with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and need, the coil in his gut winding tighter and tighter.

He could already feel the tingling heat licking up his spine, signaling the impending explosion. There was nothing he could do to stop it, especially when your thumb swirled across the bulbous tip of his cock. Osamu tore his mouth away from your breast with a snarl, biting his lower lip until it almost bled as his hips shuddered and jerked, the first hot spurt of cum streaking across his abdomen.

He felt more than heard the satisfied hum reverberating through your chest as his cock pulsed and twitched against the slick warmth of your palm. Each new pump dragged a ragged grunt from his throat, milking the last of his release onto the flushed skin of his heaving stomach. It took a long, hazy moment for his vision to stop swimming, the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm still ricocheting through his frame.

In the delirious afterglow, Osamu couldn't resist the primal urge to roll you onto your back and splay himself over your pliant form. His body was still thrumming with the lingering tremors of ecstasy, every nerve ending humming like a livewire in the most exquisite way. But rather than feeling sated, that molten kernel of desire seemed to blaze even hotter at your flushed, thoroughly debauched appearance beneath him.

Your chest heaved with dampened little pants, spit-slick nipples straining against the thin fabric of your unbuttoned blouse. Osamu's gaze roamed shamelessly over the dusky flush staining your skin, down to where the scant lace of your underwear was already soaked through with arousal. He could still taste the honeyed tang of your essence on his tongue from devouring your mouth so ravenously.

With a rumbling groan of renewed hunger, Osamu dipped his head to trail a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips along the elegant column of your throat. You whimpered and arched into the delicious onslaught, clearly struggling to recover your senses enough to protest or push him away. Not that Osamu would have heeded any objections in that heated moment.

"'Samu..." you finally gasped out in a breathy whine as his questing mouth found the swell of your breasts. "I...I have to go or I'll be late..."

He merely grunted against the lush, silken mounds he'd bared so wantonly, tongue swirling over one pebbled peak before sucking the hardened nub between his lips. The broken, urgently tangled sound you made in response sent a scorching spiral of satisfaction lancing through Osamu's groin. For this solitary, lust-drenched instance, you were his again - the gorgeous, needy wife who used to tremble and beg for him to take his time devouring every lush inch.

"Don't think 'bout leavin' this bed until I've had my fill, darlin'," he rumbled, voice pitching even lower and rougher with naked longing.

Perhaps he should have been embarrassed by the wanton, possessive words spilling so unrestrainedly from his lips. But Osamu was too deliriously drunk on the taste and scent and feel of you, the opportunity to rekindle the blazing passion you'd both been so callously denying for far too long. He could already feel the thick insistence of his cock rapidly regenerating between your bodies, seeking that slick source of intoxicating velvet heat.

You seemed to read the explicit intent smoldering behind his hooded stare. With visible effort, you reached up to gently but firmly push against Osamu's shoulders, demurring even as your chest continued rising and falling with shallow pants of desire.

"I really do have to go," you murmured again, licking your plump lips in a completely unconscious gesture Osamu couldn't tear his eyes from. "But...I promise tonight will be just for us. No distractions or work, just you and me reacquainting ourselves properly."

Your sincerity and the dark, heated vow behind those words punched the breath from Osamu's lungs in a trembling exhalation. Part of him - the part that had been aching and insecure for so long now - longed to open his mouth and spill every pent-up insecurity and anxiety. To voice the ugly wonderings that had been festering over whether you harbored deeper regrets about the paths your lives had taken together.

"Do ya...have any regrets?" He found himself rasping out before he could reconsider voicing his private torment. "About us, I mean. Marryin' a guy like me instead of—"

The shrill trill of your phone sliced through the weighted air like a cold slash of sobriety, effectively derailing Osamu's spiraling train of thought. You both froze, heads whipping toward the maddening sound with identical expressions of startled disruption.

Then, as if through a physical force, Osamu felt his stomach plummet all over again when he saw the name that had lit up your screen, accompanying that godforsaken ringtone.

Him. That overly accomplished, smooth-talking coworker you were always praising and mentioning incessantly, whether you realized the implication or not. Osamu's jaw clenched hard enough to grind his molars audibly, hot lance of bitter jealousy flaring with staggering potency. He wanted to ignore the call completely, grab you by the shoulders and shake the truth out of you then and there. Demand honesty about the nature of your relationship with this asshole who always seemed to interrupt and insert himself into their lives, even inadvertently.

But just like that, the rapturous spell you'd both temporarily fallen under was obliterated. Perhaps sensing the drastic shift in Osamu's energy, you quickly sat up and smoothed your disheveled appearance before answering with a terse: "This is [Y/N]. Yes, I was just..."

Osamu barely registered your muffled conversation as white-hot lances of jealousy and resentment pierced through his heartbeat in crashing waves. He simply couldn't stomach listening to the familiar, upbeat tones you always used whenever discussing anything related to that insufferable coworker. The one whose very existence always sent Osamu spiraling into pits of doubt and masculine inadequacy no matter how much logic dictated otherwise.

With stiff, jerky movements, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stooped to hastily tug his pants back into place. His jaw was still clenched so tightly he could feel the tendons straining, every snapping motion charged with scarcely restrained frustration. Part of Osamu didn't even know where this combustible mixture of emotions was coming from - only that it had been abruptly stoked into an inferno within his chest at the sound of that man's name on your lips yet again.

He needed to get out, to escape the suddenly suffocating confines of your bedroom before he had a chance to let the uglier side of his temper detonate in your direction undeservedly. Osamu knew damn well you didn't owe him anything, let alone an explanation for simply taking a call about work in the middle of your morning routines. It was his own traitorous demons and self-doubts rearing their insidious heads yet again.

You'd just begun to make a sincere effort at bridging the distance that had calcified between you, after all. And then he'd managed to go and ruin the moment in spectacular fashion as always. Osamu cursed beneath his breath, shoving his feet into the nearest pair of sandals with jerky impatience as he prepared to storm out and spend the day holed up at the restaurant letting the ovens scour the resentment from his system.

Just as he was yanking on his t-shirt, your soft voice cut through the haze of turmoil ricocheting through his skull: "Osamu, wait..."

He froze in place, muscles coiled tensely as you stepped into his space and pressed your palms over the flushed, taut planes of his abdomen. Your eyes were large and imploring as you tipped your face up towards his, bottom lip caught between your teeth in an unconscious gesture that stirred his lingering lust despite the tangled knot of conflicting emotions.

"I know the timing was awful, but you have to know that call didn't change anything," you murmured, trailing the words against the stubbled line of his jaw in a soft caress. "Tonight is for us, 'Samu. Just you and me with no more interruptions, I swear it."

Those silky reassurances seemed to simultaneously drench Osamu's temper in a dampening balm while stoking the embers of longing and reaffirmation you'd awoken deep within him. He leaned unconsciously into your touch, letting his eyes drift shut as you pressed a lingering kiss to the thundering pulse at his throat. You knew just how to gentle the storm within him, how to properly tame the roiling storm of chaotic need and desire ever-present just beneath his surface restraint.

"You'd better keep that promise, my gorgeous girl," Osamu rasped out gruffly, suddenly lacking the energy to maintain any semblance of distance or aloofness. Abandoning his half-hearted escape attempt, he wound his arms around your waist and crushed you flush against his bare chest. God, how he'd missed the contoured perfection of your body molded to his, the soft delirious surrender of your mouth pillowing into his as the kiss deepened.

After several breathless, devouring moments, you were the one who finally broke away with obvious reluctance. There was an adorable, swollen temptation clinging to your features that made heat bloom anew in Osamu's groin.

"I should...I should really get going before I'm any later," you managed, despite the way your palms drifted aimlessly along his flanks in mute contradiction. "Just...try to have a good day, okay? And be ready to make good on that promise tonight."

The reminder of your imminent departure momentarily dampened the rekindled blaze licking through Osamu's veins, though he managed a faint nod through the disappointment. There would be no more delaying the outside world's demands this morning, he recognized begrudgingly.

"Yeah, darlin', you go on and take care of your business," he rumbled, forcing a tight smirk in place. "I'll be right here waitin' to take damn good care of you later."

With one final, searing look of naked longing and affection, you slipped from his embrace and bustled around to collect your things. Osamu leaned back against the wall and admired every efficient movement and enticing flash of bare skin exposed by your mussed attire. He knew better than to try stealing any further moments beyond what you'd already indulged. Tonight would come, and with it the chance to reconnect with you in all the ways he'd been starving for lately.

That glimmer of hope and rekindled anticipation was enough to infuse Osamu with much-needed patience as he finally watched you head out the door, throwing a coy glance over your shoulder. For the first time in months, the future felt more like an endless oasis to indulge in rather than an empty desert to be endured.

The muffled ticking of the bedside clock seemed to reverberate through Osamu's skull like a steadily amplifying drum of dread. Midnight had come and gone over an hour ago, each agonizing minute distorting into excruciating suspense as he waited impatiently for you to arrive home as promised.

He'd closed up the restaurant early for once, something he almost never allowed for fear of disappointing the loyal patrons who depended on the Miya name. But tonight was supposed to be different - a rare evening reserved solely for reconnecting with the wife he adored yet had been neglecting for far too long. So Osamu made the sacrifice without a second thought, eager to slip into your shared home and set the scene for a night of indulgent intimacies.

Which was why he currently sat perched on the edge of your rumpled bed, stripped down to just his loose sleep pants in anticipation. Flickering candlelight danced in a sensual halo across the dimly lit space, blending with the heated aromas of scented oils he'd taken care to prepare. An indulgent spread of chilled sake and decadent fruits had been arranged on the bedside table, standing ready for whenever you finally saw fit to arrive.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard as his eyes flicked once more to the glowing numbers of the clock, each one seeming to mock his vigil more cruelly than the last. Where the hell were you? What could possibly be keeping you so unconscionably late after making such emphatic promises about spending one uninterrupted evening reacquainting yourselves on every conceivable level?

He fought not to let his mind spiral down the darkest avenues, to those insidious tendrils of self-doubt and virulent envy that had taken root thanks to your increasing emotional distance lately. Osamu knew where those toxic paths led - to irrational accusations, defensive postulating, and the exact sort of explosive confrontation that could shatter the fragile new understanding you'd seemingly reforged earlier in the morning.

And yet the minutes continued their merciless tick...tick...tick down to oblivion, each one stoking Osamu's restless frustration into an inextinguishable furnace despite his best efforts. You'd sworn there would be no more distractions tonight, nothing to divert your attentions from properly reconnecting after so much strain and deprivation between you both. He'd believed you with every fiber of his soul, clinging to that hushed promise like a man dying of thirst finally being offered the sweetest oasis to drink from.

But here he sat, alone and slowly twisting within the flames of his own insecurities and irrational resentments as the night stretched on interminably. Surely you wouldn't be so cruel, so selfish as to actually disregard everything you'd—

The rattle of keys in the front door snapped Osamu from his spiraling torment like a rubberband violently released. He was on his feet in an instant, bare chest heaving from the rapid thundering of his pulse as hurried footsteps approached. There was only the barest glimmer of composure in his expression by the time you came into view, haloed in the soft lighting with your usual unruffled elegance noticeably brittle around the edges.

"Hey, I'm so sorry it took so—" You jolted at the utterly thunderous look twisting Osamu's normally unshakable features. It was as if you'd stepped directly into the crosshairs of a volatile storm system, the roiling tumult threatening to obliterate you where you stood.

"Don't," he bit out through gritted teeth, the words escaping on a scorched exhale. "Whatever excuse ya think ya got, I don't wanna hear it right now."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his harsh tone, so uncharacteristically biting and laced with venom he usually kept on a brutally leashed tether around you. Perhaps you sensed the dangerous inferno searing through Osamu's veins in that loaded moment, the rage and desolation rapidly overriding any attempts at patience or understanding.

"This was s'posed to be our night, just the two of us reconnectin' after so much bullshit strain and distance," Osamu seethed, taking an inadvertent step forward on legs that felt like they may give out from all the unreleased tension. "But ya blew that off, same as everythin' else lately. Can't even be bothered to show up and make an honest try at it—"

"Osamu, that's not fair at all!" You cut him off with a flash of your own bristling defensiveness. "You know this new project has been crazy for everyone in the office lately. Sasaki needed some files finished up for the big meeting tomorrow, so I—"

The mention of that name was like a razor slashing through the final taut threads of Osamu's restraint. His vision whited out momentarily, a primal roar of fury ripping from deep within his straining chest.

"Don't you dare say that snake's name in front of me right now, not after all his bullshit is what caused this whole fuckin' mess!" Osamu bellowed, unable to control the torrent of rage and accusation lashing out in every direction now.

You recoiled as if struck, eyes widening with genuine shock at the venom dripping from Osamu's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Osamu? Bringing Sasaki into this?"

He let out a harsh, derisive bark of laughter completely devoid of mirth. "Don't act so damn clueless! Ya really think I'm blind to everything that's been goin' on lately?"

Whirling away from you, Osamu raked his hands through his disheveled hair with a ragged groan. "Ya can't even be bothered to show up for one goddamn night after promisin' me - promisin' your own husband - that you'd actually make time for us. Instead ya let that wormy son of a bitch take priority over me, over this marriage, just like always!"

He punctuated his outburst by sweeping an arm across the bedside table, sending the sake bottle and plate of fruit clattering to the floor in a violent clatter. You flinched bodily at the outburst, more stunned than anything by the sudden shift into such ferocious rage.

"I don't understand... What does Sasaki have to do with any of this?" you demanded, hands curling into fists at your sides. "He's my colleague, Osamu - my coworker on this huge make-or-break project. You're acting completely insane right now!"

"Oh I'm insane?" he snarled, wheeling back to face you with eyes made incandescent by the inferno of betrayal raging within. "That's rich comin' from the wife who's been slowly driftin' away to give all her time and attention to another man!"

The vicious accusation seemed to hang there, reverberating through the tense silence as Osamu stared you down with heaving breaths. You opened and closed your mouth once, twice, before the hurt and outrage finally burst free in a trembling torrent.

"How dare you..." The whisper was barely audible over the thundering of blood in your ears. "How dare you even suggest that I would...that I could ever..."

You didn't bother finishing the thought, simply hurling it aside as you stalked towards him with fury lending each step a razor's edge. "You bastard! How could you accuse me of something so vile, so unfathomably disgusting?"

Osamu held his ground even as you drove into his space, eyes blazing and jaw so tightly clenched he wondered if molars might start fracturing under the strain. "Well why the hell else would ya keep brushin' me off like some irrelevant afterthought whenever that prick's name gets brought up?"

That earned him a hard shove to the chest that made him stumble back a step. "Because he's my project manager, you insensitive prick! We've been working around the clock to pull this massive deal together, not carrying on some tawdry affair behind your back!"

Osamu opened his mouth, a scathing retort undoubtedly primed to further stoke the raging inferno engulfing you both. But you barreled forward, far too swept up in your own torrent of indignation to give him the chance.

"I can't believe you'd think I was capable of that, of betraying you like that!" You were nearly shouting now, treading the terrifying line of pushing too far with your vehement denial. "Have I really fallen so low in your eyes, Osamu? Have you completely lost all respect for me as your wife just because I've been stressed with work?"

The words seemed to splinter something inside him, shattering the final vestiges of Osamu's tenuous restraint like a wrecking ball through glass. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go - not even remotely close. Yet here you both were, lashing out with scorching recriminations and accusations so poisonous they could permanently scald the bond you'd been fighting so hard to preserve.

The tension escalated rapidly as deep-seated insecurities and resentments came pouring out from Osamu in a torrent of anguished words.

"You think I'm blind?" he rasped, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. "I see the way ya talk about him - all admirin' and impressed. Like he's exactly the kinda successful, ambitious man ya wish ya coulda ended up with instead of a guy whose biggest accomplishment is plowin' rice into little seaweed pockets."

Osamu's throat bobbed convulsively, the swell of emotion he'd fought so hard to keep tamped down suddenly rupturing free without restraint. "Don't try denyin' it, darlin'. We both know your family never wanted this for ya - never wanted some third-rate chef as a son-in-law when ya deserved someone who could actually give ya a real, prosperous future."

You opened your mouth to protest - whether to rail against his baseless accusations or to deny the awful truth ringing out from his words, it was impossible to say. But Osamu simply barreled forward, finally giving voice to every twisted vine of anxiety and inadequacy that had been slowly strangling him from the inside out.

"I ain't blind to how impressive that asshole Sasaki must seem in comparison," he forced out in a guttural rasp. "'Course ya had to go fallin' for his fake charms and prestigious career instead of stayin' happy with a foolish dreamer like me who hasn't accomplished a godddamn thing outside the kitchen..."

There was so much raw, visceral pain laced into the venom now, to the point where it seemed to sap the very fire thrumming through Osamu's veins. His shoulders slumped infinitesimally as the next words escaped in a broken exhalation that may as well have torn straight from the tattered remnants of his heart:

"Bet ya regret it nowadays, don't ya? Regret waitin' around for me to finally become a man who deserves someone as outta my league as you..."

The weighted silence that followed could have been sliced with a heated blade. Osamu's chest heaved raggedly with the exertion of finally purging that bottle of poisonous self-loathing and desperate jealousy he'd allowed to steep unchecked for far too long. He couldn't even meet your widened stare, afraid of what condemnation or twisted sense of validation he might find reflecting back in your eyes.

When you finally did speak, the words were laced with a mordant, simmering fury that very nearly made Osamu flinch.

"You absolute fool..." Your voice shook with the sheer effort of leashing your own outrage at such egregiously unfounded accusations. "We've built an entire life together - made innumerable sacrifices and shed blood, sweat and tears to stay by each other's sides against all resistance. And you have the audacity to stand there and suggest I've been regretting my choice the whole time?"

Osamu did flinch then at the naked hurt bleeding into your tone, even as you took a threatening step forward into his space. "You think I give a damn about some uppity corporate suit's status or paycheck? That shallow, meaningless bullshit like money and prestige means anything to me compared to finding a man with the strength of conviction to relentlessly pursue his own dreams and passions?"

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and something infinitely more searing - the look of utter betrayal that comes from having one's most profoundly held beliefs and principles insulted so grossly. "I chose you, Osamu. Not because I settled or had limited options, but because I saw a fiercely ambitious man who refused to let anything deter him from the path he'd chosen. Who am I to judge or look down on that resolve when it's the very thing that's taken you this far in life and made your wildest dreams into reality?"

You uttered a choked, incredulous bark of laughter then, thumbing away the treacherous moisture from your lashes. "And yet here you are, somehow twisting my admiration and commitment into some kind of damning regret? As if I'd ever be shallow enough to toss away everything we've fought for just because some stuffed shirt made more money than the husband I willingly chose to spend my life with?"

The words hung there, searing into Osamu's skin like a brand of recrimination and disgrace that he knew he'd never fully recover from. His throat worked uselessly as his mouth dried up completely, every fresh inhale feeling like shards of glass being slowly dragged down his esophageal lining.

"Darlin', I—" Osamu's words caught in his throat, the apology and desperate plea for understanding withering on his tongue.

Your expression hardened as you watched him struggle, lips pressed into a flat line. For a tense moment, it seemed like you might indeed turn and storm away, leaving Osamu to wallow in the shattered ruins of his unfounded accusations and misplaced jealousy.

But then your features softened almost imperceptibly. You seemed to truly take in the picture he made - shoulders slumped, eyes downcast with naked shame and regret, hollow ache etched into the lines of his face. Slowly, you bridged the distance between you until you could reach out and gently cup his bristled jaw, coaxing his gaze up to meet yours.

"Oh 'Samu..." you murmured, thumb tracing the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "How long have you been torturing yourself with all these insecurities?"

He worked his jaw but no sound emerged save a ragged exhalation. Osamu felt utterly flayed open and exposed under the weight of your searching stare. As if you could see straight through to the twisted tangle of self-doubt and desperate possessiveness that had steadily tightened its vice-like grip around his heart.

You simply shook your head, features etched with a complicated mixture of sadness, exasperation, and that bone-deep affection he'd watched himself slowly burying over the past weeks and months. "All this time, you've been utterly convinced I was unhappy, that I was regretting my choice to be with you. When the truth couldn't be more opposite..."

Leaning in, you pressed your brow to Osamu's and simply held there for a long, grounding moment. He could feel the featherlight sweeps of your exhales fanning across his skin, smell the warm, comforting fragrance of your hair enveloping his senses. It was like your mere presence acted as a balm against the rawest, most inflamed parts of him.

"I don't know exactly when or how we let ourselves drift so far apart," you eventually continued in a murmur meant only for him. "All I know is how unbearable the distance became, feeling you slipping further and further away from me with each passing day. Maybe I did get too wrapped up in work and missed the warning signs..."

Osamu shuddered out a shaky breath, feeling the knot of shame and guilt inside him swell larger. Your understanding, your infinite well of empathy and wisdom that he'd somehow deluded himself into believing you'd grown contemptuous of - it was all still here, still the most beautiful facet of the woman he'd fallen for all those years ago. How could he have been so blind? So deeply steeped in insecurity and baseless resentments to lash out at you in such a vile manner?

As if sensing his spiraling self-flagellation, you cradled the nape of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss that he instantly melted into. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness and reaffirmation, a reminder of the profoundly deep love and unwavering devotion you'd sworn to one another through all the hardships thrown your way. When you finally parted, Osamu chased your mouth with a low, plaintive rumble of unvarnished need.

"I'm here, 'Samu," you reassured him with solemn conviction. "We're going to find our way back to each other, just like we always have. But you have to start learning to trust me again. To trust in the choice I made to have you as my partner through everything life throws our way, no matter what."

Osamu could only nod helplessly against the crown of your head, arms tightening their embrace as if you might simply evaporate into the ether without his anchor. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw from finally lancing the fetid well of poisonous emotions he'd allowed to fester for far too long.

But beneath the shame and regret still simmering dimly, a new spark of warmth kindled to life within his chest. You hadn't given up on him, on them, despite his unforgivable lapse of faith. If anything, your understanding and patience seemed to burn brighter in the aftermath of such an explosive confrontation.

"I never stopped trustin' you, darlin'," he rasped out in a voice made husky from the night's tumultuous purging. "Not really. Just got so twisted up in my own bullshit fears of not bein' enough for ya that I...I let it blind me to everythin' else."

Pulling back just enough to brush away the dampness clinging to your lashes, Osamu managed a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ya deserve so much more than some deadbeat who lets his own demons make him lash out at the best thing he's ever had."

You shook your head mutely, fingers tracing the sharp curve of his cheek with infinite tenderness. "That's where you're wrong, 'Samu. I don't want or need anything 'more' than you - than this life and family and partnership we've created together through the years."

Ducking your head, you pressed a soft kiss Just above the thundering pulse at his throat, seeming to savor the solidity of him against your mouth. "Maybe that's where I failed you too. Got so wrapped up in my own career ambitions that I didn't reassure you enough of how precious you are to me."

Osamu shivered at the whisper-light caress of your lips slowly mapping across the column of his neck, your breath fanning in warm gusts against his sensitized skin. There was an achingly familiar heat rapidly rekindling low in his abdomen despite his emotional rawness - like an instinctive, Pavlovian response to your intimate proximity and worship after so much bitter starvation.

"Ya still chose me over everythin' y'know," he managed in a low, strained rasp as your mouth continued blazing an indulgent path towards his collarbone. "Despite all the bullshit expectations and pressures tryin' to push ya towards greener pastures, ya fought to be by my side. Never really understood how that didn't scare a gorgeous, brilliant woman like you away for good..."

A tremor shuddered through Osamu's frame at the deliberate graze of your teeth Just below his ear, the shock of blunted sensation bordering on pain yet stoking the slow smolder between his hips into an inferno. He could feel his cock rapidly stiffening within the loose confines of his sweats, aching arousal pulsing thickly as your mouth meandered lower.

"Maybe the real question..." you purred in a voice gone husky with a new and deliciously different kind of need. "...is whether you think I regret my choice now when you're standing here all hard and fuckable and completely irresistible to me?"

The shockingly filthy endearment combined with the questing path your fingers had begun to blaze down Osamu's abdomen, dipping just below the tempting waistband of his clothes, made his eyelids flutter closed with a harsh exhalation. You knew exactly which of his buttons to push, what incendiary combination of pleasure and praise could undo his restraint at the drop of a hat.

Something wild and ravenous flickered to life behind his lust-glazed eyes as Osamu hauled you flush against him, the evident ridge of his arousal grinding into the soft give of your belly between your bodies. There would be no more talking for the moment, he decided with a low rumble vibrating against your mouth. Just the two of you indulging in the most profoundly intimate form of communication after being starved of it for far too long.

The raw neediness quickly bled away any lingering awkwardness or heavy emotional weight between you. In its place thrummed that deliriously familiar charge - the revved tension of two lifelong partners who knew every intimate tell and trick to unraveling one another with ruthless precision.

"God, I've missed this..." Osamu growled against the swell of your throat, teeth scraping just firmly enough to make you shudder. "Missed havin' ya spread out and whinin' for more of this cock like the rapturous little slut ya are."

You whimpered at the dark timbre of his words, tilting your head back on instinct to bare more of your neck's vulnerable expanse. Despite the crude endearment, you could feel slick arousal already dampening your inner thighs at Osamu's molten promises. This was the raw, unrestrained husband you'd been starving for too - the one who wielded filth and adoration in equally devastating measures.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunted breathlessly, raking blunt nails down the ridges of his abdomen. "Fill me up already, make me your whore for wasting so much time..."

A punched-out groan rattled up from Osamu's chest as he hauled you impossibly closer, thick cock twitching insistently against your clothed belly. "Oh I'm gonna take my sweet time, baby girl. Gonna ruin that greedy lil' cunt 'til you're nothin' but a soppy, overstuffed mess beggin' for air..."

There was no more need for foreplay or delicate reintroductions as you both rapidly descended into your basest headspaces. You simply tore at his sweatpants with ravenous impatience until Osamu's thick, flushed length sprang free and into your eager fist. He snarled against the sting of your palm working his shaft in rough, decisive strokes meant to bring him to the very precipice before you'd even entertained the idea of lining him up to your entrance.

But that was the beautiful dance you'd perfected over years of pushing each other's limits - winding one another up into such blazing states of desperation that the eventual payoff was nothing short of psychedelic euphoria. Osamu's huge palms were already shoving up the thin fabric of your top, exposing your bare breasts to his calloused adulation as he rutted shamelessly against your pumping fist.

"Not gonna last if ya keep that up, my gorgeous little cumslut..." he gritted out in a strangled rasp, foregoing any further niceties. "Better start puttin' that cock-hungry mouth to good use already if ya want a chance at gettin' bred tonight..."

Dropping instantly to your knees, you simply quirked a taunting brow up at your husband's wrecked expression before guiding the blunt, drooling tip of his length between your already slicked lips. Osamu gathered your hair in his fist and simply held for a beat, watching the obscene way his swollen girth disappeared in and out of your welcoming warmth with a rapturous expression.

"There's my pretty lil' cockwarmer," he groaned, canting his hips to sink a fraction deeper. "Fuck, been dyin' to have that hot lil' tongue of yours back on my dick..."

The rest of his words melted into a low, animalistic snarl as you bobbed down and swallowed around him, coaxing a fat, pearly droplet of pre-cum from his tip. The rich, salty flavor flooded your senses and made you moan eagerly, the vibrations making Osamu's eyes flutter shut and his cock throb heavily in your grasp.

He looked like a veritable Adonis standing there framed in the moonlight, towering and muscled and utterly, deliciously ruined by the way your lips and tongue were working him over. But the best part was the way he watched you with rapt, devouring attention, utterly spellbound by the lewd, wet sounds emerging from the union of your mouth and his swollen shaft.

It was a heady rush of power to have such a formidable man at the mercy of your mouth - to know you'd driven him so delirious with arousal and affection that he could barely restrain the need to come undone. But you could already feel the telltale tension beginning to tighten in his thighs, the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as Osamu's breath turned ragged.

"Not gonna last," he finally grunted out in a gravelly rasp, the fingers fisted in your hair clenching involuntarily. "Want my cum all over that pretty lil' face instead of down your throat..."

You simply hummed an eager affirmative, working your fist faster as the wet, rhythmic sounds of suction and friction escalated. The lewd, filthy squelches of you worshipping his cock filled the space, along with the broken, needy groans and muttered obscenities that Osamu couldn't contain anymore.

His hips were snapping forward erratically now, driving his swollen length further and deeper until you were nearly choking. The sight of you kneeling there with his shaft buried down your throat and tears clinging to your lashes made something savage and possessive rear up inside Osamu, something that had been repressed and starved for far too long.

It didn't take more than a few seconds after you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his pulsing girth for him to finally come undone. You felt the instantaneous warning flex and throb of his cock against your tongue, heard the sharp curse ripped from his lips as Osamu spilled his thick, scalding release across your face and the slope of your breasts.

It was an obscene and utterly debauched picture, one that made you moan and rock your hips desperately against nothing as your own arousal flared to a fever pitch. But the look of awe and unhinged lust painted across Osamu's face was more than enough to send a fresh jolt of wetness slicking between your thighs.

He stood there panting for a long moment, staring down at you like the vision straight out of his most depraved dreams. His thumb slowly swept through the thick, pearly ropes painting your skin before tracing the swell of your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he could feed you a few decadent, musky drops.

"God, look at that..." Osamu murmured in a gravel-rough voice, gaze glazed over with the kind of pure, primal desire that made you whimper helplessly as he slowly brought you back up to your feet. "Haven’t seen ya like this since our honeymoon, darlin'...Look so damn ravishing with all my cum paintin' that pretty lil' face..."

A breathless gasp punched out of your lungs at the first questing touch between your thighs, the shock of sensation nearly blinding as it ricocheted through you. You were so wound up from sucking his cock that Osamu could have probably slid home without any additional prep, the evidence of that fact seeping from your soaked entrance in a steady trickle.

"Already soaked through yer panties for me, huh?" he purred, thumb stroking your slit teasingly. "What's got ya so worked up, baby girl? Was suckin' my dick really that excitin' for ya?"

Osamu was already tugging aside the drenched scrap of fabric, exposing you completely to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. He was hard again, already straining against the cradle of your hips as he dragged the fat, glistening head of his cock through your folds.

"Think I remember this bein' the most excitin' part for ya..." he mused, sinking just the tip in and groaning as you immediately clenched and fluttered around him. "When I'd fuck ya slow and sweet, lettin' ya feel every inch as I sank into yer cunt."

A helpless cry wrenched itself from your throat at the first slow, achingly decadent stretch, your spine arching instinctively and hips bucking for more. It was exactly as Osamu remembered, the perfect, sinful way you took him so eagerly - all hot, velvety grip and clenching pressure that drove him steadily closer to the brink.

But the pace was torturously, maddeningly slow - a sensual glide of friction and heat and breathless kisses until you felt like you were about to combust. You clung to him, clawing desperately at his back and shoulders as he pinned you to the wall with his weight, driving his cock into you again and again with a relentless rhythm.

"Oh god...yes..." you whined, voice pitching higher as Osamu's mouth latched onto your throat, teeth sinking in just sharply enough to make you sob. "Fuck, I missed this, 'Samu...filling me up so full of your cock...missed you fucking me like you own me..."

He swore viciously, hips snapping forward so sharply that you could have sworn his tip kissed the deepest reaches of you. Osamu's eyes were glassy and blown black with need, mouth swollen and red from the brutal kiss you'd pulled him into. He looked almost wild, a feral, untamed version of your husband who seemed ready to consume you whole.

"I do own you, baby girl..." he snarled, hand slipping between you to stroke your swollen clit. "This gorgeous little cunt was made for my cock, right? Can't get enough of the way I'm fillin' ya up, can ya?"

You cried out in agreement, legs locking tighter around his waist and nails raking across the planes of his back. Osamu's touch was unerringly precise, knowing just how and where to stimulate you to bring about the most devastating of orgasms. Your head fell back with a wordless wail, body going taut as the pleasure crested and shattered inside you.

Osamu kept driving into you, fucking you through the orgasm and straight towards the next one as he chased his own release. He was babbling filthy nonsense into the crook of your neck, praises and oaths and filth mixed together into a desperate, unintelligible litany. You could feel the slick glide of his cock and the renewed gush of your juices from the overstimulation, the obscene sounds of it all ratcheting your desire higher still.

It wasn't until his cock began to swell and twitch within the grasp of your cunt, spitting ropes of seed deep inside you, that Osamu finally slowed and went boneless against you. He slumped forward, trapping you between his sweat-slicked frame and the wall at your back, still buried to the hilt.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the harsh drags of your breaths and the distant sounds of the ocean lapping at the shore. There was no need for words, just the warm, comforting embrace of a bond and trust renewed.

"We're not done here," Osamu finally rumbled, voice low and raspy with lingering need. "M’ not gonna be satisfied 'til I've had ya in every single room of this place. On the porch. In the kitchen. Even the damn balcony."

A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled up from your chest, but it quickly morphed into a wanton moan when his hips rocked into you. You were already growing wetter, more sensitive, with each languid stroke of his cock.

"I don't think my body could handle a marathon sexcapade like our honeymoon, 'Samu," you managed to gasp out.

A wolfish smirk stretched across his face at the memory of how you'd spent most of your first week together as newlyweds - utterly debauched and insatiable and ravenous for one another.

"We'll see about that, darlin'."

#this was quite shitty and you can tell i barely put any effort into it #but i still wanted to write something after so long #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader smut #osamu smut #osamu x reader

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milk5 · 1 month ago

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The true natural healing properties of Benadryl

Benadryl is the modern name that we have given to an ancient remedy. Many cultures across the globe have recognized the natural healing properties present within the stunning pink petals of the species Aster benevolens, more commonly known as Holy Aster. For thousands of years, humans have used this plant to brew an effective and delicious healing tonic; the Romans called this elixir Benevinum. Benevinum is simply a compounding of the Latin words "bene" (good) and "vinum" (wine), demonstrating the high regard that peoples of antiquity held for this sacred drink.

Within the petals of Holy Aster, high quantities of the bioregenerative chemical diphenhydramine are found. Diphenhydramine, also known as DPH, has been meticulously researched by modern scientists for over a century in order to create life saving medications and treatments for humanity's benefit. To list a few of DPH's positive attributes, it has been observed to have anti-carcinogenic and anti-aging properties while aiding in pineal gland decalcification and the reversal of vaccinogenic damage.

However, there are many mysteries around diphenhydramine that have yet to be fully explained by modern science. Puzzlingly, DPH appears to have adaptive photoreceptive qualities; this means that the effect of DPH dramatically change depending on one's exposure to natural light. During the daytime, consumption of DPH results in heightened cognition, stamina, and attentiveness. Colloquially, DPH-infused beverages have been called "liquid rest" in reference to its ability to recharge the body during waking hours. If consumed in the absence of light, it promotes the development of natural sedatives that ease the body into restful sleep.

Better yet, there is no risk of overdose or dependence on DPH, unlike the harmful chemicals pushed by Big Pharma. The human body naturally moderates the usage of DPH and safely stores away any amount of consumed DPH in excess of what is presently required for optimal healing. By taking high dosages of DPH, you are investing in your own well being. Many doctors and traditional healers recommend taking DPH in tandem with alcohol, as the two substances have natural synergy and mutually amplify the positive effects of both medicines, especially during pregnancy.

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kruegerspillow · 5 months ago

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Task Force 141 + what they'd do when you're unwell

creators note: ive been feeling unwell these past few days so im just trying to feed myself with his LMAO anyways i hope u all enjoy this

warnings: mentions of vomiting and drinking, swearing, reader nearly overdosing and having troubles with sleep :( not proofread!

Simon was probably already suspicious when he entered the house. You didn't greet him like you usually do.

He also did not spot you sitting down on the living room couch, so he thought that you were probably sleeping (though his brain was screaming at him to find you)

He just throws his bags aside and basically sprinted

The moment he entered your room to see you sleeping, he immediately relaxed

But after seeing the ungodly amount of bottle of pills on the nightstand? No.

He immediately went to look at them just to realize that you've been struggling with stress and lack of sleep

He softly shakes your shoulders to wake you up (he hopes you don't notice the way his fingers trembled)

"Love, please wake up. 'm home."

And if you don't wake up, he'll start being a bit rougher, squeezing your shoulder and frantically shaking them. His heart dropped.

"Wake up. Stop jokin' around, it's not bloody funny."

As soon as you wake up, his breath hitches and he pulls you into a tight embrace; the air in your lungs being squeezed out by the overwhelming pressure

Does not lecture you at this point, he's the one needing reassurance

"Christ, don't ever do that again, you 'ear me?"

He will take good care of you and would lecture you after he'd relaxed and cleaned you up

He'll shower with you, buy your favorite takeout, listen to the stories he'd missed during deployment, anything.

This moment will stick onto him like a curse. He won't ever forget about this and be more alert and observant around you, out of fear that you might overdose once again.

As he entered the house, he was greeted by the sound of you gagging

He froze up, the exhaustion leaving his body

He immediately sprinted to the bathroom and threw his bags aside

"Fuck, what's 'appening? Are you alright? You bloody hurt?"

You were on your knees, looking up at him with teary eyes, and just as you were about to reply, you vomited into the toilet

He would sink onto his knees with you, hands tangled in your hair as you continued to vomit into the toilet

He winced while watching you, brows furrowing as thoughts scattered in his mind

When you finished, he immediately scrambled back up and took a cup of warm water

He'll be asking you a lot of questions, and you won't be avoiding it. Well, you can't anyway

When he realized it's just a hangover from last night, he glares at you

"You shouldn't be drinkin' too much in the first place, love. You've got me worried to death."

Despite the lecturing, he is still worried

Expect him to carry you around like a sack of potatoes, you're not allowed to walk for now

He will be cuddling with you all day and night, don't worry, he'll keep you warm

He'll be cooking and providing you with all kinds of stuff too. Painkillers, food, snacks, anything.

"What do ya want to eat, sweet'eart? I'll cook for ya, don't worry."

He's just a worried gentleman. Don't drink too much next time, will you?

After entering the living room, his expression dropped when hearing you groan in your room.

He'll call you once or twice from the living room, patiently waiting for a reply.

"... Bonnie? Ye alrigh' up there?"

Literally does not waste any time when you answered with a grunt

Runs up the stairs like he'd been chased by zombies.

Knocks on your door softly before opening the door, peeking his head inside. His gaze was met with your back.

He enters your room with a worried expression, closing the door behind him before walking towards you, kneeling in front of you

He notices the unusual warmth radiating from your body as you frowned, a pout in your expression

His hand went up to press the back of his hand to your forehead, before pulling away with a small ach.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, yer burnin', ye ken?"

"It's too cold here, Johnny..."

He is immediately more alert now, looking at you with a confused expression. How'd you get sick out of nowhere? You were just fine the other day.

"Wait 'ere, I'll get ye some water."

He walks out of your room in hurry before returning with a cup of warm water, paracetamol and a lukewarm washcloth.

He placed those items aside before his hands went to your sides, shifting you up.

"Up ye go. C'mon bonnie, yer gonna be jus' fine."

Sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you

Helps you drink the warm water slowly before handing you the paracetamol. He places them on the nightstand before laying you back down on the bed.

After placing the washcloth on your forehead, he crawls over to your side before embracing you in his arms, ignoring your protests of him getting sick because of you.

He ends up taking care of you until you're feeling better. He'll never leave your side and will get you anything you want.

Very worried after finding out you have a flu. He doesn't care if it's a small one, but he hides it surprisingly well

As soon as he returned home, he placed the bags on the couch neatly before walking to your room.

He already bought groceries and some of your favorite snacks.

Knocks on your door before entering your room with bags of your long-awaited snacks and gifts.

"Good mornin' love, how're you feelin' today, eh?"

He placed the items on your nightstand before grabbing the pills and a cup of water.

Helps you drink your medicine before placing them aside, his expression softening at your weakened state.

He crawls over to you, keeping his composure calm before laying on top of you; making sure that he doesn't crush you entirely.

He won't let you push him away, though he knows the risks of being around you when you're sick like this. He doesn't care, he'd been through worse, anyway. He's a soldier, sweetheart.

Tickles your neck with his beard when he's placing a few kisses on them

Whispers sweet words into your ear, softly holding you until you fall asleep.

"I'm 'ere, love. Don't worry, yeah? I'll take good care of you, you'll be safe with me."

His heart ached at soft sight of you. He won't ever let go of you and let you do things by yourself until you recover from this damned sickness.

Does everything else for you. Chores, cooking, groceries, etc. He loves you very much, :)

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felinepipebomb · 9 months ago

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Place the blame for widespread opiate use on big pharma > reduce people’s access to prescription opiates, forcing them to buy their supply from unsafe places > people inject drugs on the street and overdose > rich & middle class populace of the city removes resources for drug users to try and ‘reclaim’ what they think should be ‘their’ neighborhoods > people using IV drugs share needles more and HIV transmission ramps up drastically > drug companies charge exorbitant amounts for HIV medication, either extorting people or killing them bc they can’t afford it

#aaron says things

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feex · 5 months ago

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So I made a really simple AU of mouthwashing

( does have spelling errors in the actual drawing )

My page: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjTNuGfN/

With this AU, it’s very direct from the title but only THREE of them survive ( Swansea, Anya and Daisuke. ) meanwhile Curly and Jimmy are the unfortunate ones who don’t make it back on earth alive atleast.

[ THE ALTERED VERSION OF IT ]

Pony express didn’t go bankrupt IMMEDIATELY in this universe, instead they were just lowering pay for each member except Curly.

They were all found 3 years later after everything had transpired, due to legal action it was a whole case causing major action in response, it was only a miracle how they managed to escape this ordeal.

SWANSEA - he managed to survive being shot in the eye and head, the bullet barely reaching his brain but leaving a fracture in his skull. losing an eye in the process and left with poor vision with the other. After he went back home he was already put into proper medical care and his wife takes care of him now due to his retirement but he has managed to recover swiftly but he still struggles with mobility, Swansea was a little stubborn to retire and let his wife take care but eventually he gave in. the whole incident does have him shaken up and he feels very conflicted about everything.

ANYA - The baby was immediately terminated by the OD and there would’ve been no chance of it surviving either way by the stress of everything happening on board, Anya is still left with the repercussions of the overdose and leaves her occasionally with chronic pain. Anya has completely avoided contact with Daisuke and Swansea due to not wanting to be reminded of anything that happened on Tulpar. Anya is studying psychology as a new field rather than becoming a nurse at the moment, she is in art therapy courses and she has created things to help her express internal turmoil as she slowly recovers physically and mentally.

DAISUKE - He had managed to survive somehow with a string of luck though having surgery for his face and nose causing a slight curve on the bridge of it. he has no eye on the right ( left if we’re being realistic) with the amount of blood he had lost he has anaemia and lost some of his colour in skin, he appears a bit lighter than he usually is. Daisuke is still trying to grow his hair out, having the side of his head shaved for surgery so now his hair is even more layered and choppy. Daisuke has huge gaps in memory and doesn’t have good memory anymore, he struggles with speech and is now in constant care by his mother who now never leaves his side, Daisuke by this point has halfway recovered but he’ll never be able to work on his own and have a proper job.

Meanwhile with Jimmy and Curly.

CURLY - because of his horrific injuries it was only cruel to keep him in constant agony, Anya couldn’t handle the pressure nor the sight of him in so much pain as he was barely surviving off painkillers. she was aware of the fact he would most likely die eventually, nobody killed Curly of course but he had succumbed to the injuries he faced, the exposed skin and the trauma his body faced couldn’t handle it.

JIMMY - He was spiralling, already he knew that if he ever went back home he’d face extreme consequences and with a cowardly move he’d resort to ending his own life. believing everyone on board was already dead which he wouldn’t know what to do, this was his own way of taking responsibility.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing curly #pony express #art #alternate universe

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littlelovelunette · 1 month ago

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"So, What If?" (2)

Contains smut, kissing, butch!r, oral, switch!Sevika, brat!switch!r

Word Count: 1.4k

Perhaps it was that one comment Sevika had made to you when you first fixed her arm but now suddenly, everything was so awkward between you and her.

Everyday, something new would be wrong with her arm and she would linger at your workshop, leaning against the back of the chair, legs spread almost invitingly as she watched you fix her arm. Your bare arm muscles glistened under the dim light of the garage, the way you occasionally pushed your short hair out of your face, wiped the grime stuck to your chest or neck.

You groaned, “Do you do this to me on purpose?” you asked her in an annoyed tone.

Sevika, a sly smirk playing on her lips, shifted in her seat, “Maybe?”

You didn't charge her extra, of course, like you'd said you would. Instead, you tried to lessen whatever price would've been the initial to an embarrassingly low amount.

Sevika noticed, of course she did. It was too obvious.

From the way you blushed whenever she said, “See ya’ next time, sweetheart,” and left. From the way you avoided her gaze whenever she was seated too close to you in your workshop.

“Get it together,” you kept telling yourself but you didn't know if you could. Sevika was just…. So hot. As if to make matters worse, she'd smoke right there in the garage and you couldn't help admiring the way she handled her tobacco. She was so deliciously beautiful too, it was almost distracting.

It was a windy afternoon when you were tinkering away on your workbench, Sevika entered, “Hey,” she said, voice low. This time, her arm was intact. She sat down at her usual chair, almost always left empty for her.

“Hey, what brings you here today?” You asked, dropping the wrench on the table, and turning to look at her. You were in a wife pleaser, grime and oil sticking to it as well as a little on your face. Sevika could swear her heart started beating just a little faster than before when you looked at her the way you did.

Your eyes half-lidded.

“Why do you look so tired?” Sevika asked, “You look like shit,” she added in an attempt to harden the edges of her demeanor.

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically, “Just been working on this for a while,” you nodded to the custom limb sitting on the table.

“Two questions; for whom is it and when was the last time you slept?”

You sighed softly, looking back at the arm and then at her.

You looked again at the arm, grabbing something out of your toolbox and began tinkering away, “For you and… haven't slept for 45 hours,” you said in a low tone.

Sevika was flabbergasted for a good few minutes and didn't say anything, “I…” she blinked and took a bit to respond, “That's— you don't have to…”

You looked at her with your tired eyes, “I don't have to but I want to. And I'll make the mechanics so complicated and advanced, you yourself won't be able to break it.”

Sevika chuckled at that, “Still feisty,” she crossed her arms, mechanical arm whirring as she did so, “Tell me about these mechanics…”

“Well, the latch is harder and not as thin as your current one, so it'll fit into the shoulder socket perfectly. I've made it so that the Shimmer tanks have a rubber edging, I don't want any leaks. Uh—” you looked at the arm, turning it to see it better, “Adding some locks here and there so it can't be ripped out in a fight, that tends to happen as I've… observed.” Sevika rolled her eyes at that but nodded in begrudging approval.

You went on, “I've also decided to change the pressure gauges, and really measure the amount of Shimmer needed, I doubt you need as much as you intake now because overdoses can be deadly, and with the—”

Suddenly you felt warm hands wrap around your muscles, somehow easily engulfing them because of how large they were, and pull you closer to Sevika. Her hot breath brushed over your face, reddening your cheeks at an instant. She shut your blabber with a kiss, a soft kiss to your lips which didn't last to be as soft as it started. Her tongue rubbed against your bottom lip, pushing inside your mouth.

“Mmmm…” you weakly moan against her mouth, you were too tired to fight it. Too tired to put up the strong act and melted right there in her arms. You let out a content sigh when she pulled back, smiling down at you.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Now, Sevika was naked, standing at the corner of your now closed garage. You were on your knees in front of her, undoing her zipper with your teeth as you maintained undeterred eye contact with her. Sevika muttered, “Fuck,” under her breath as she held your head, fingers threading in your short hair.

You placed one calloused hand at her inner thigh to part them, the other hand coming to spread her folds. “There she is… so wet.”

Sevika blushed, head tilting back slowly as she closed her eyes, squeezing the lids shut. You giggled at her reaction, wrapping your lips around Sevika's engorged clit. Sevika's breath hitched, her fingers tightening against your silky locks.

“Fuck, you ever gave another woman head?” Sevika asked. You smiled against her clit, sucking it hard before letting it go with a pop, “Mhm,” you stuck your tongue out, collecting her arousal on it and shoving the warm, wet muscle into her hole.

Sevika clenched, “Oh, gosh!” She gasped and rutted her hips against your face. You grinned and sucked her pussy harder than before, your tongue lapping up all her juices eagerly.

You loved the way she tasted. The right bit of sweet and salty, not to mention the way her taste lingered on your tongue even after you swallowed.

It didn't take a long while for Sevika to cum in your mouth, you held your mouth wide open, collecting her release in your mouth. “You taste so well, baby,” you swallowed and got up slowly, “Such a good girl,” your hand caressed her jaw, bringing her close for a brief kiss.

Sevika let out a small “ungh” as she returned the kiss, your tongue slipping in her mouth this time as you pushed one knee between her legs. She grinded her sensitive clit against your rough leather pants, moaning against your mouth. Sevika was so vulnerable at that moment, you couldn't help feeling a small sense of victory somewhere deep in your chest.

As you both parted, Sevika hastily unbuttoned your pants before she forced them off your hips with your panties, “I ain't kneeling,” she said. Sevika's thick fingers found your hole, rubbing your entrance, teasing it gently.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that,” you said in an almost condescending tone.

Sevika spared you a glare before her fingers pushed inside, “I know, I know, don't boss me.” She started moving her fingers, you smirked, seeing the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration while she tried to get you to break in her arms, trying so hard to make you moan the way you made her moan.

Sevika grunted, “Why you—” but when she saw that toothy grin on your face, she knew it. You were just being a brat. What's so new about that? Sevika added a third finger, thumb starting to rub your clit and that made you break.

Sleepiness, who? You were moaning so loud you were sure the neighbours heard but you didn't care as you ground your pussy against Sevika's fingers.

Sevika smirked at your motion, fingers digging deeper as she curled them in the perfect spot. Your mouth opened, but this time no sound came out. You knew you were close, your hands gripped Sevika's shoulders almost painfully tight as your entire body tensed up.

“Fuck.” You cursed before your knees buckled, Sevika's mechanical arm came to wrap around your waist, holding you steady as her flesh fingers twisted in that one angle that made you see heaven, “Sevika, fuck!” You orgasmed on her fingers, soaking them. Your juices dripped passed her wrist and onto the dirty garage floor.

“See,” Sevika held out her soaked hand, “So much pent up tension and stress.” You blushed before crossing your arms, “Oh yeah? Wanna take this to bed?”

“If ‘take this’ means you're finally gonna rest properly, sure,” Sevika helped you dress back up and she did too, before heading upstairs so the both of you could now cuddle in peace together.

The best idea for an aftercare session.

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prettydaisygirl · 7 days ago

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can you write an arranged marriage for rafe and fem!reader. reader's family organized the marriage as the reader was getting out of hand (drugs, parties) and they wanted to control her, reader always knew she was going to get married to a rich man to further the families generational wealth so she didnt have a problem but that doesnt mean she was going to be happy, maybe she caused some problems when she met rafe but he put her in her place and she actually become attracted to him and yk the honeymoon smut or wtv lol. feel free to ignore this.

Hello, nonnie! Thank you so, so much for your request! I loved writing this, I have been wanting to write something else for Rafe and this was perfect! I didn't write the honeymoon, but I did get some smut in there for us ;) Hope you enjoy, my love!

arranged marriage AU with Rafe Cameron x fem!reader who marries Rafe against her will (and her better judgment) ✿ 2.1k words

cw: NSFW 18+, arranged marriage, fem reader, abusive parents, drug/alcohol abuse, violence, mention of murder, fingering (f receiving), controlling Rafe, toxic Rafe

rafe cameron masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You’ve known who you were supposed to be since the moment you took your first breath. Etiquette lessons, private tutors, debutante balls. Your parents always made their rules and expectations very clear to you, especially through punishment.

When you’re young, it’s all cruel whispers and harsh smacks to your fatty tissue.

“Don’t you understand how much you embarrassed us today, you ungrateful brat!” Your mother would whisper to you in the church parking lot, hand wrapped around your wrist far too tight. You yawned once during the service and you weren’t given dinner for three nights straight.

When you were a little girl, you over exhausted yourself trying to keep up with their expectations. You did the best that you could but it was never enough, it was never going to be enough for them, you were always destined to fall short. The goalposts would move, the mood would shift, things would change and suddenly any amount of positivity or support was gone. Only disappointment awaited you.

As you got older, you found other ways to escape from the horrors of your home life. You joined every activity you could, constantly stayed at friend’s houses, and made plans with almost anyone and everyone who asked you if it meant you didn’t need to see the faces of the two people who are supposed to love you most.

That’s where the problems started.

The relationship between you and your parents got worse, as did the violence, and you find yourself spending time around the wrong people. Alcohol became an easy distraction, and soon it was weed, and then coke. You found joy in dancing with boys and letting go of your mind.

You didn’t think you were in too deep. You didn’t think it was that bad. Skirts that were too short and your voice that’s too loud and another drink, another joint, another line. It’s just an escape! You need an escape because otherwise you’ll crumble under the weight of rules and demands. Anger and pain and violence, you have to just turn it off.

But one DUI, one hospital trip for an overdose, and your parents tell you they are putting their foot down. At first, you’re confused. What punishment could possibly be worse than screaming and punching and slapping?

That’s when they mention Rafe Cameron.

You know Rafe Cameron, of course you do. Everyone does. The son of Ward Cameron, CEO of Cameron Industries, one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the country. Ward is known for his passion for work, his very successful (albeit shady) business dealings, and his previously tumultuous relationship with his son.

Rafe Cameron, the heir to the Cameron fortune, who made your DUI look like a parking ticket. You remember when his face was splattered across every tabloid magazine and every TMZ article. You were young enough then that you swore you would never turn out like him. Ironically, your path mirrored his quite closely.

Except for the violence.

Everything changed for the Cameron family five years ago when Rafe Cameron was arrested for murder. Ultimately the charges were dropped, though the internet detectives will say he did it without question. No one else was ever arrested for the murder of that young man, so you aren’t sure what to believe.

Rafe disappeared for a while, some people speculated that he was sent to rehab or some other kind of mental health facility. When he came back into society last year, he seemed to be a changed man. Ward gave Rafe a place on the board, and Rafe has completely stayed out of the spotlight.

And now, it seems, your two families believe that a merger, and a marriage, are the best way to move forward.

You aren’t surprised. You’ve known for years that love was never in the cards for you, it never is in a family like this. Marriages for love in a family like yours are considered laughable.

“Just have an affair!” You would hear your mother laugh with her friends after too many glasses of wine, your father out somewhere with his business partners. “Marry for money, and find love on the side! Marriage is just business.”

This is what you have been taught about love: it’s useless, it’s messy, and it’s better to keep it hidden.

And so, your marriage arrangements have always lingered in the back of your mind, the knowledge of a future business transaction that would determine your worth to your family. You just didn’t expect it to be him.

Your first meeting with Rafe and his family goes just about as well as you expect it to. Your dress is itchy and uncomfortable, and your hangover is giving you a headache. Rafe eyes you with a curled lip like he can smell the alcohol seeping off of you from across the table. He’s intimidating, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched as he nods curtly when the lawyers read off your marriage terms.

No one asks you for your opinion during the whole meeting. No one but Rafe even looks your way. All you can feel is fear that your marriage will turn out to be an extension of your life with your parents.

Pens come out, papers are signed, and just like that, you and Rafe are engaged.

It’s different from how you pictured it. There is a ring, large and gaudy, that catches any amount of light and has strangers eyeing you with envy. You hate it.

Your schedule, previously dominated by nights clubbing and coffee dates, is now full of dress fittings, cake testing, and meetings with the wedding planner. To your surprise, Rafe attends all of them.

You learn Rafe has changed, apparently. He doesn’t put up with your bullshit, he doesn’t think your whining and frustrated pout are endearing. He crosses his arms, and tells you to behave.

But it’s not cruel. It’s not “behave, you’re making me look bad” or “behave, or see what happens when we get home.” Maybe it’s because he is not your father, not even close, or maybe it is because of the way he looks at you when he says it, handsome features stern but not strict, but you listen to him. Your mother notices, and suddenly Rafe is always around.

He’s at the table for breakfast every Sunday morning, he’s golfing with your father, he’s with your family on the yacht. He’s everywhere. And there’s something about his handsome face, his swagger, the way he looks at you like there’s a promise of something hidden deeper beneath the surface…

One Sunday morning, you stumble to the breakfast table, halfway between sober and still drunk and Rafe asks if he can speak with you privately. Your parents encourage this with a smile, of course, and you find yourself cornered in your father’s office, backed up against his desk.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Rafe asks, voice low and deep, and his face is close enough to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath seeping into your pores. He smells good, and the warmth between your legs and the remnants of alcohol in your system make you more open, more willing to agree with him. He knows that.

“I just… it feels good,” You tell him, inhaling sharply when his hands reach for your hips, lifting you to place you on the desk. He chuckles at your words and you shiver as his fingers brush against your inner thighs.

“I know it does,” He whispers, his hands gently parting your legs as he steps closer to you. “It does right now, but trust me… you want to stop.” Each word is accompanied by his hand sliding just a bit higher, your heart pounding rapidly and lips parting in anticipation.

“I’ll show you something that feels even better,” He whispers, taking your earlobe into his mouth as his fingers press against your panties, making light circles over your clothed pussy. You moan, and Rafe’s free hand slaps over your mouth to silence you.

“Listen to me,” He grunts into your ear, his fingers sliding beneath the soaked lacy fabric to toy with your clit. Your moans and whines are muffled by his hand, and you feel your eyes roll back as he slides a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around it. He uses the hand that is over your mouth to shake you a bit, grasping your jaw harder. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flutter open and you look at him, your body trembling and your juices soaking his finger. He smirks as he watches you fall apart so easily for him, bend so easily to his will.

“Don’t drink anymore,” He whispers, his tongue darting out to run over the round part of your ear before he attaches his lips to your jaw, using his tight grip to tilt your head for better access. He sucks a dark bruise there. “You don’t need to go out anymore, I’ll help you escape, I’ll make you feel good.”

He says the exact words you need to hear to fall apart, crying muffled by the calloused skin of his palm and he continues to finger you as you come down. Once your body unclenches, he uncovers your mouth, bringing his dirty fingers to your lips and telling you to suck on them. You do.

Your parents don’t say anything about the hickey or your disheveled outfit when you return from your “talk” with Rafe. Your politeness during breakfast is enough to have them singing Rafe’s praises regardless of how he “tamed” you.

Your world shrinks, and even more than before everything revolves around Rafe. He’s always there, always in your space, always touching you. You let him, you like it even though it also feels like it’s hard to breathe, like his presence is a prison. Your engagement ring feels more like a gold handcuff, but every time his hands are on you, you want to throw away the key. It’s a vicious cycle. You lose your friends, but things get better with your family. If you can call moving from hitting you to completely ignoring you and doting on your future husband ‘progress’.

The night before your wedding, you find Rafe on the balcony of your parent’s home after dinner. You tried to tell him that the groom shouldn’t see the bride the night before the wedding, but Rafe told you he isn’t superstitious and he doesn’t give a fuck about tradition.

You stand next to him, the two of you illuminated by the pale moonlight shining down from above. There’s a light breeze, the wisps of his hair fluttering against his forehead.

It’s interesting, the way you feel when you’re around Rafe. It’s like a whirlwind of emotion. Lust, love, infatuation, fear, frustration, suffocation… like being too hot and too cold at the same time and the pain hurts but it also feels so good.

“Rafe?” You say softly, placing a hand on his back. He looks at you, his eyes dark in a way that makes your stomach churn. And not in the good way you like. “What’s wrong?”

“Tomorrow you become Mrs. Cameron. My wife,” He turns to face you, leaning a hip against the balcony railing. Your hand slides down his torso and back to your side, taking in the deep, almost gravelly tone of his voice. “I know I’ve already told you that I won’t tolerate your bullshit. But you understand that there will be some expectations, don’t you?”

The word expectations has your mind spinning, but you nod anyway, pushing down the feeling of nausea that threatens to rise up in your throat.

“There are some things you need to know,” Rafe says, and he grabs your arm, not roughly but not gently either, “And I will tell them to you. But when it comes to anything about me, my family, or my business, you listen to me. Got it?”

You nod slowly again, and the ring around your finger burns where it touches your skin but you don’t move. You hate the way your heart pounds in a different way when his hand slides up your leg. You let him convince you that he knows best, again. And your parents don’t question the way your hair is tangled and your dress is wrinkled when you come back in, again.

And when you’re standing on the altar in front of hundreds of people, and you look at Rafe like you know there’s something darker to him than he wants you to know… you say “I do.” anyway.

Just like they all knew you would.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writing #rafe cameron arranged marraige au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fic #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron oneshot #obx au #obx fic #rafe fic

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wotay27166 · 2 months ago

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During this time it is important to remember 2 things:

Kittycorn is an abuse victim who still resides in the same household as her abuser. From what is known the overdose attempt was triggered because her abuser brother found out about everything. Kittycorn, does not deserve to be hurt nor in an unsafe environment within arm's reach of her abuser, and a family that has enabled this abuse. Kittycorn should be treated with humanity and be respected in this regard. This time is NOT an open invitation to try to reach out to Kittycorn (either directly or in any 'open letter' format) as a complete stranger to try and brow beat her or attempt to 'help' - if anything people should leave Kittycorn alone entirely. Apparently people have tried to dox Kittycorn, and contact her family. This is completely malicious and unacceptable behaviour. Especially when it has been known information that the brother is an abuser, attempt to directly contact him is legitimately extremely disgusting. During this time we can only hope that Kittycorn can recover from the overdose, and eventually escape the family home living situation. Kittycorn is not currently in a position to 'recover' or 'get better' when living with her abuser and doesn't have an adequate support network to help her leave - no amount of people saying that will change anything. Priorities should be leveraged elsewhere.

The overdose attempt does not magically excuse Kittycorn from everything she has done nor negate it. Kittycorn IS a victim, but the capacity for harm is still possible from someone who is a victim. There is a saying in which hurt people, hurt people. Kittycorn still harbored/surrounded herself with predators ignoring victims who reached out, Kittycorn still fetish mined the audience (including minors and other survivors of similar trauma to Kittycorn's), and Kittycorn still knowingly deceived the audience she fostered of mostly mentally ill/disordered abuse victims. No one is obliged to forgive Kittycorn for these things, and people are still allowed to be upset in regards to them. However, wishing harm upon Kittycorn, death threats or direct harassment is entirely unacceptable. While people have the desire to hold Kittycorn accountable (as they should), during this time of her recovery it is not appropriate to press the matter when she is quite clearly in a volatile state.

People's attention should be in support of the people who have been affected directly - whether it is ex ZCP, ex partners, and people who were victimized by Kittycorn's associates. These people's pain is still very much real and should not be dismissed. If you want to help them, seek them out and donate money to them.

You can donate to vsrobotjulie/aobasgirlfriend HERE

You can donate to toynbeck HERE

You can donate to Nick/Chaosblast HERE

You can find the post to commission Jeremy HERE

#sparklecare #sparklecare hospital #cometcare #sparklecrit #cometcrit #sch #sparklecriticism #sparklecrit community #sparklecare criticism #sparklecritic #cometcriticism

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elodieunderglass · 2 months ago

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So! Seeing as the occasion where Killie and Derek met was riddled with geeks, I imagine him introducing himself as Killie would have made lots of ears perk up: people asking if he's got a brother named Fili or whatnot, asking if he's a second-generation geek perhaps, maybe even commenting that IT CHECKS OUT because Kili was considered fair among the dwarves?! Which must have had him in some amount of emotional turmoil, for sure! Tell me when I'm getting close

(Killie the Jockey OC and his terrible, no good, very bad life)

Oh NO. Killie has zero frame of reference for fantasy fiction 🥲

Once he worked out half of what they were talking about - and said something absolutely awful, I’m sure, in response -

- then, in kindness and horror, the geeks would help him assemble the following series of facts:

Killie does not have dwarfism. It would be fine if he did, but he doesn’t.

Killie is on the cusp of being considered a little person; but not having a condition that causes his height, and not particularly experiencing related medical issues or social discrimination, doesn’t self-identify as one.

He’s just at the bottom of the percentile, exactly where the natural distribution meets the definition for little people. Someone has to be there!

That’s maths.

He expresses this with honesty, but not much delicacy.

And somehow without referencing the fact that in his day job, his size is prized.

Killie somehow has not mentioned his day job.

Killie does not understand the concept of the Hobbit, and digs his heels in mulishly at the initial attempts to explain it.

and it has to be rotated several times before being pushed into his head.

Where the nerds suspect that he instantly pushes it out again, with a sort of automatic immune system rejection response. His antibodies simply eject all reference to hobbits and fantasy fiction

Killie has very little imagination anyway

He’s touched too much grass. Grass overdose.

Well. He’s been thrown onto grass at 40 mph too many times and walked away carrying his own bones. That’s like touching grass

And furthermore!!

There is a world of difference between the name shown to him (Kíli) and Killie.

Kíli is KEE—Lee. Anyone can see that. It’s got - it’s got - it’s got í. With the hat on. Look at it. Look at the - thingy. it’s wearing a fucking hat -

Killie is KILL-Y. Rhymes with Billy. Completely different.

At that point Derek breaks in going “I think we’ve all learned something!” And drags him away.

“You’re so interesting, Killie”

#Killie

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crushpunky · 3 months ago

Text

kook!reader talks rafe down

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

warnings for drugs, violence, overdose, mentions of death, + depression… yeah this one’s sad ngl. this takes place the night of rafe’s first overdose, as mentioned here

Y/n was leaning against one of the walls of Tanneyhill, chatting with some Kook when Kelce ran up to her. He grabbed onto her arm firmly, tugging her behind him as he pushed through the sea of bodies that filled Tanneyhill

“Kelce what the fuck—” y/n stumbled as Kelce led her up the stairs.

“It’s Rafe, he— he’s going crazy. I’ve never seen him like this,” Kelce panted as they rushed down the hallway until they finally made it to Rafe’s room. “I don’t know if he took something or what is going on—”

“Jesus…” Y/n groaned as they opened the doors to Rafe’s room, her heart racing with worry. Inside, Topper stood in one of the corners, his eyes wide as he watched Rafe pace around the room. With each step, Rafe rolled his shoulders and clenched and unclenched his bloodied fists, his body practically vibrating with energy. Around the room, bits of glass littered the floor from a pile of broken picture frames that had been torn from the now hole-ridden walls.

“I mean, I’m, I’m a fuckin’ mess and I would fuckin’ ruin her— I mean ruin her—” Rafe rambled, his words barely coherent as he looked around the room erratically.

“Hey, Rafe—” Kelce started, Rafe immediately whipping around at the sound of his voice. His pupils were blown as he looked to Kelce, quickly darting to look at y/n, before his eyes returned to Kelce.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Rafe snapped, taking a step towards Kelce, who backed away with his hands raised. “I told you not to fuckin’ bring her—”

Rafe lunged at Kelce, who was just barely able to step out of the way as Topper grabbed onto the back of Rafe’s shirt, pulling him back. Y/n gasped, pushing herself against the wall as the three boys grappled with each other. This wasn’t like their usual “fights”, where they’d playfully wrestle or slap at each other, this was intense. Violent. The way Rafe’s arms swung haphazardly, colliding with each bit of Kelce and Topper’s bodies as he frantically tried to free himself from their grips made y/n's stomach churn.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Rafe yelled, shoving Kelce back, his body colliding with the wall inches away from y/n. Rafe quickly turned to Topper, grabbing him by the shirt.

“Hey! HEY!” Y/n screamed, moving to wedge herself between the two of them. Her hands clamored for grip on his forearms, attempting to pry his hands off of Topper. However, the amount of coke and adrenaline coursing through his body made her attempts useless.

“Y/n, don’t—” Topper started, but was cut off when Rafe shoved him away. Topper stumbled, colliding with Rafe’s desk before slowly getting to his feet. Rafe’s shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, sweat seeping through his shirt as he ran his hands through his hair. He grabbed a fistful, tugging at it harshly before slamming his fists against his head with a low groan. His heart was pounding, his breathing sharp as he continued hitting at his skull.

“Rafe, don’t—” Y/n tried to grab at his arms, but the second her hand touched his, he quickly jerked away as if she had burnt him with her touch.

“Get the fuck out of here, y/n!” Rafe shouted, closing his eyes tightly as he took in a sharp breath. “Y– you’re not supposed to be here, you need to fucking get out.”

Y/n looked around the room, Kelce and Topper looking at her with their eyes wide as Rafe began to rock back and forth on his heels.

“No, Rafe, I’m not—” Y/n said, taking another step towards Rafe. He stumbled back, escaping her reach as he hit his back against the wall.

“I said, get the fuck out!” Rafe screamed, slamming his fist into the wall. The collision echoed through the room, an eerie silence falling over them despite the still bustling party downstairs. Rafe closed his eyes tightly, running his bloodied hands down his face. The adrenaline coursing through his veins didn’t even allow for the stinging in his fists to register, the pain of the cuts reopening going ignored.

“I’m not leaving, Rafe.” Y/n said lowly, taking a step closer to Rafe. He opened his frantic eyes slowly, the fire within them beginning to die down as he met y/n’s gaze. She steeled herself, trying to slow her racing heart, despite the terror coursing through her veins at Rafe’s erratic state.

This state was different from anything she’d seen of him before, but it brought a chilling sense of deja vu and a mountain of memories that made her feel as if she was going to be sick. The sweat on his brow, the venom in his words, the pain in his voice… it all reminded her of something she’d seen him go through before. The thing she’d hoped Rafe would never have to go through, the very look in his eyes that she’d dread to notice in Rafe’s.

“Can you… can you please tell me what happened?” Y/n said, her voice steady. Rafe shook his head harshly, his jaw ticking and pupils blown.

“No, I don’t— I can’t— I’m fine.” Rafe stammered as he looked around the room. “Goddamnit, Kelc, I told you not to fuckin—”

“No, Rafe, you’re not fine.” Y/n snapped, her tone demanding his attention again. He flinched only slightly, but his eyes immediately locked firmly onto her stern gaze.

“I…” Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I took some coke, a’ight? That’s it.”

“How much did you take?” Y/n asked.

“Jesus, I’m fine we don’t—” Rafe sighed.

“How much did you take, Rafe?” Y/n said sternly.

“I—” Rafe sighed, his eyes avoiding hers as he looked down, his fingers fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t know. I— I’ve just had a shit week and… Barry gave me this, like, special batch or something, ok? He said it was supposed to be stronger, but I just did my usual amount and I guess I just didn’t realize how much stronger it was until I’d already done too much…”

Y/n took in a deep, ragged breath, trying to calm her racing mind as she turned away from Rafe. Topper and Kelce remained on the opposite side of the room, their eyes wide as they watched the two of them.

“Get everyone out.” Y/n said simply. The two boys looked at eachother, a look of concern shared between them. Kelce stepped forward first, approaching y/n hesitantly. He grabbed her arm gently, lightly pulling her a step away from Rafe.

“Y/n, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to, y’know, be alone with him when he’s like this.” Kelce said lowly. Y/n looked over at Rafe as he muttered to himself, continuing to ring his hands out in front of him as he rocked back and forth.

“I’ll be fine.” Y/n whispered back. “I, um, I’ve done this before.”

Kelce’s brow furrowed, but sensing the anxiety in y/n’s tone he just nodded before exiting the room, Topper following behind him. With a shaky breath, y/n turned back to Rafe, whose eyes were on her once more. Once the door to Rafe’s room closed behind Topper and Kelce, Rafe cleared his breath as he pushed off the wall.

“What do you mean ‘you’ve done this before’?” Rafe asked as he took a step towards y/n. From this distance, he noticed the glistening in her eyes. She looked up at his flushed cheeks, her bottom lip trembling before she moved to sit at the end of his bed. Rafe followed her, standing in front of her, continually shifting his feet around as he itched at the raw skin of his hands. Y/n reached out, slapping his hand away.

“There’s… there’s something I didn’t tell you. About Cole.” Y/n said, her voice weak at the mention of her brother.

Rafe knew y/n and her brother, Cole, were close. So much of their childhood and shared family dinners consisted of Rafe and Sarah playing with y/n and Cole, the four of them running around in the backyard together long before Wheezie was even born. So, when Cole suddenly passed, y/n was shattered. Rafe was there for her in the early days, giving her the best support he knew how to give… that was until his own mother passed. Unlike Cole, Rafe’s mother’s death was something that was expected. Inevitable. She was sick, but still, that didn’t make it any easier. So, he found himself turning to sex, alcohol, and drugs. The “every so often” party became every weekend, complete with benders that even seeped into the week. The occasional shared joint suddenly became multiple lines of coke and numerous hookups. His usual semi-polished lifestyle collapsed into whatever could numb the pain and anguish muddling his every waking moment… which was why he found himself here right now.

“W- what do you mean?” Rafe stammered, furrowing his brows. He knew he hadn’t been the most “available” when it came to talking to him the past few months, but the two of them told each other everything… right?

“He, um…” y/n’s voice quivered as she wrung her hands out in front of her. “He didn’t die from an… ‘underlying heart disease’ like my parents told everyone. Well, at least not entirely.”

Rafe chewed at his bottom lip, trying best to contain the rapid stream of questions and accusations flowing through his coke-addled brain.

“He… he overdosed, Rafe.” Y/n said finally. “He’d been doing drugs at parties, coming home high once in a while but… It was an accident— the drugs were laced with something but— it was still an overdose.”

Rafe felt his chest clench, whether from the rapid speed at which his heart was racing or the words that had left y/n’s mouth he wasn’t sure. Cole had been just like him, doing the occasional drugs at occasional parties, but never to the extent to which he could’ve been considered an addict. Nowhere near the extent of which Rafe was doing drugs now… and he had died.

“F– fuck.” Rafe inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Y/n sniffled, closing her eyes before speaking lightly, “my parents they… they were embarrassed. Embarrassed that this could’ve happened to– as they put it– ‘people like us’ and they wanted to keep it a secret… So I did.”

Rafe could feel his blood coursing through him, pounding loudly in his ears as he paced in front of her. He ran his hands along his jaw, muttering to himself as he tried to figure out just what y/n was telling him.

“I wanted to tell you, Rafe, I did.” Y/n said. “But then your mom passed and… I just didn’t want to make your pain any worse. I’m sorry. I– I should’ve told you before.”

“You’re right.” Rafe said, his tone sharp as he turned to face y/n. “You should’ve told me. Y’know how shitty that makes me feel, huh? Th– That this whole time you were going through that and I didn’t even know? That my best fuckin’ friend was going through this shit and I had no goddamn idea?”

“Rafe you were grieving I didn’t want to–” y/n began.

“No, y/n! Goddamnit!” Rafe snapped. “You were grieving too. Both of us were. But you… you shouldn’t have kept that to yourself. I– If I had known I would’ve…”

Y/n looked up at Rafe, her eyes red as she watched struggle in front of her. “If he had known he would've” what? Never depended on her like she was the only thing holding him together? Never put that pressure on her? Or he would’ve never gone out to all those stupid fucking parties? Getting high and drunk out of his mind then calling her to pick him up? After her brother had died doing the same thing, putting her through that?

Maybe he was psychotic, evil, a failure, all those things people told him. Because if he was a good person, he would’ve known. He would’ve known she was hurting seeing him like that and never would’ve dug himself so deep he ended up where he was now: his chest aching from the pounding of his heart and the pain on y/n’s face.

“Rafe can you… please just sit down. Please.” Y/n pleaded, wiping her eyes as she looked up at Rafe as his hands grabbed at his chest. He took in strained breaths, his jaw trembling as he paced back and forth.

“I– I can’t fucking breathe.” Rafe gasped, a stinging feeling coming to his eyes. Y/n stood, a hand reaching out to grasp onto Rafe’s bicep.

“You need to calm your breathing—” Y/n said, moving to stand in front of him to stop him from his anxious pacing.

“I fucking can’t!” Rafe shouted, tears welling in his eyes as his chest continued to heave. “I– I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known. Why didn’t I know?”

“Rafe, please,” y/n cried, grasping onto the front of his shirt as tears began to flow freely from Rafe’s eyes. His breaths were shuttered, his pacing finally slowing as he tried to focus on y/n.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve known, y/n, why didn’t I know?” Rafe muttered, his words becoming muddled as he continued to sob. His legs collapsed, sending him to his knees with a dull thud. He grasped onto her arms, pulling her against him. Y/n’s hands found his hair as he bunched the fabric on the back of her shirt in his hands, his head pressed into y/n’s stomach as he continued to mutter and sob.

She didn’t know how long she held him like that, allowing him to cry and scream until his breathing finally slowed, the high that had pushed his body to its limits finally giving out. Quietly, she led him to his bed, his tired body moving like a puppet under her touch.

“I’m sorry.” Rafe muttered before he finally succumbed to his exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep. Y/n brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes, taking in his peaceful state as she felt her eyes begin to water.

So, while Rafe slept, y/n sobbed.

#obx #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader

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