#cause... I no longer want to get that specialization

[steadybear]

“ 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧

content warnings: 18+ NSFW, 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, general yandere themes, emotional detachment, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, mlm, bl, sexual coercion, dubcon to marriage, semi-public sex, choking, hair-pulling, hatefucking, oral sex (reader receiving), male reader, this is a part 2 that might be important information, semi-stockholm sydrome-y, touch-starved/horny reader

Here's the continuation of a fan favorite, "like lovers do", I'm going to leave the actual plot of the fic a secret so you all can enjoy it while you read!! Special thanks to all the people who left comments basically begging me for a part 2 because that's what truly convinced me to write this LMAOOOO if you're looking for anyone to thank for this they are to blame

Fair warning, the content isn't quite as dark as it was before since a lot of people wanted to see the relationship between the reader and Ayato improve, but I also don't enjoy making the reader character complicit in forced relationships so there will still be a fair bit of resistance.

ONE LAST NOTE: i wrote and rewrote this like seven times, if the plot seems disjointed its cause I basically compiled all the different iterations to make the ultimate part 2 kthxbye

Cold.

It was really cold.

Why did Ayato feel so cold?

His eyes opened blearily, blinking rapidly to bat away the exhaustion. The room was dimly lit, like it always was. What should've been his marital bedroom was devoid of a husband, like it usually was in the morning. Ayato couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt wrong. He should've been used to an empty bed and an empty room by now, but the space still felt... desolate. Everything was in place, nothing had moved, the man was even in the same position he usually slept in. Yet despite all this, he felt cold and alone. Why was that?

He went to sit up, to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but instead of maybe a back ache from sitting up all day, he was confronted with an all-consuming pain shooting up his body. Not only that, he noticed when he peeled the covers off of himself he was completely naked.

Well, that explained why he was cold.

But why did he feel abysmally lonely?

His eyes swept over the room, looking for anything out of place, but he wasn't met with anything unusual. That seemed to be a no-go, but perhaps his memories of the previous night would become clearer if he actually got out of bed. Carefully, he swung his legs over the side of his futon, but was met with a strange numbness in his extremities and another wave of searing pain to shoot up his spine.

Things were only getting stranger the more he investigated, but it seemed his questions would be answered all too soon. The very moment his feet made contact with the ground, the brush of fabric startled him. He wondered if one of his blankets had gotten kicked off the bed in the night, but when he looked down to confirm his suspicions, the memories of the previous night stormed his mind like an angry mob.

'Oh.'

His cheeks automatically lit up a cherry red, realizing the 'suspicious fabric' he'd been stepping on was actually his own yukata. Y'know, the one his husband had taken off of him before they... engaged in a night of passion, for lack of a less vulgar term.

Just a few feet away from his clothing were yours, the same kimono he'd tugged off your shoulders, the same sash he'd watched you untie, the same pair of pants you'd left for work in the previous morning, all in a crumpled pile on the floor. He couldn't remember how the clothing specifically got on the floor, having recalled throwing it somewhere on the futon since the both of you were too impatient to properly undress.

The longer he pondered the happenings of the previous night, the more he lost sight of what he had been doing in the first place. Specifically, what he needed to do for the day. After all, the politics of Inazuma stopped for no god, much less any human.

Still, understanding why he felt so lonely didn't help the fact that he still felt lonely. You had been so open and intimate with him the previous night, did you just consider it to be some obligation you had to fulfill if you wanted to keep your family business going? It certainly didn't feel like you were as emotionally distant the night before. Ayato had basked in the glorious sunlight that was your attention, your affections even. You had not only ticked off the consummation box on the marriage contract, you didn't just stop at one round either.

It felt like he was married for once, not just inviting another guest into his home. He might have always worn his ring, caught sight of the matching one you wore when he caught a glimpse of you in the manor, but he had never felt anything close to the adoration and alert focus you'd showered him in the previous night. Even if it hadn't been exactly what he'd imagined for the night, it didn't change the fact that you had been there, in the bed when he'd fallen asleep.

When you'd first gotten married, the part of the day he looked forward to the most was falling asleep in each other's arms. You hadn't given him that satisfaction, but you not only let him hold you after sex, your own arms were cradling him close to your chest like a baby. He'd gotten to use your heart as a lullaby, to feel the burning hot skin on skin contact, the little circles you traced on the small of his back to help him fall asleep; all of it.

He'd hoped--as his eyelids began to grow heavier than lead--that even if exchanging your vows hadn't been the start of your marriage, perhaps yesterday was the true beginning of your relationship.

He knew it was wishful thinking, having sex for the first wouldn't be some kind of switch that flipped inside of you. You wouldn't start loving him just because the two of you had shared one night together, but he'd hoped it might have been the start of things. He'd hoped more than hope itself that maybe you would just barely crack open the gates to the forest containing the forbidden fruit that was your heart.

If he gave you his body on top of his eternal love and devotion, maybe you'd be open to giving him more than the cold shoulder.

He could feel a dismal sense of disappointment settling in his chest, the prospect of giving you all that he had and still not being enough. Maybe if he thought a little harder, he could come up with something to offer you. You had his heart, his body, his entire being, but maybe there was something else he could offer you. He just didn't know what it was yet.

His train of thought was immediately interrupted when the door to the room slid open.

He scrambled to cover himself with the various comforters laying next to him, not bothering to check who was at the door, but then he was met with a melodious chuckle.

His eyes darted to the doorway.

You were in a new yukata, hair completely drenched, and a used towel thrown over your shoulder. He spied your attempt to hide your smile behind the back of your hand. By now, his flush had died down, but the moment he caught sight of you, it returned tenfold. He burst into an electrifying scarlet and completely froze in his tracks like a nervous deer.

You closed the door behind you shortly after, smothering another laugh at his expense. You coughed behind a closed fist, unable to completely wipe the smug grin off your face. "Good morning."

"I-" Ayato tried to swallow some spit down his unbearably dry throat, just now realizing how parched was. "Good morning."

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Sorry if I scared you, I woke up feeling less than clean so I decided an early morning bath would be nice." You started walking towards a hamper of dirtied laundry, tossing your towel in before adding, "I didn't want to wake you up, you seemed exhausted yesterday."

"..."

You could only feel yourself smile wider the longer he struggled to answer. His mouth opened and closed like one of those fat koi fish you spied in town a couple weeks ago. The sly Kamisato Ayato was nothing but a flustered mess just from you walking into the room.

You began to notice a trend in what seemed to make you happy these days.

You tilted your head to the side a bit, pretending to look confused as you asked oh-so-innocently, "What?"

He finally seemed to put his thoughts into words when directly questioned. "Weren't you supposed to leave for work earlier?"

You hummed, crossing your arms as you walked towards him. "I moved my work around to a few of the higher ups." Instead of engaging with him further, you bent down and picked up his discarded sleepwear and your clothes from the previous day.

"Oh, and relax, I took care of your work for the day. I didn't exactly think it'd be proper for the head of the Yashiro Commission to be stumbling around like a newborn fawn in public."

"Please?"

You hummed, lazily tracing circles on his lower back with one hand, the other holding your book open. "I'm only taking care of you for the day, you don't need me here tonight."

You had been suspiciously good to him, willing to do just about anything he asked if he persuaded you enough. As of now, he'd managed to convince you to let him cuddle up to your side while you did your own relaxing. One of his hands lay on your chest next to his face while the other was squeezed beneath him on the futon, balled up in a fist next to his heart.

So, so sweet, you had been to him. So tender and caring and lenient; it made him feel suspicious but he had thought himself to be too cynical. Instead of being ready to be burned, he wanted to fully be able to embrace this beautiful warmth in its entirety.

Still, he knew there would be some kind of caveat.

Everything you did, everything you said, everything you let him do, it was only for today. He knew it from the start, when you'd told him upfront you were willing to support him while he was recovering from your rendezvous in the sheets the previous night. He had you wrapped around his finger, but only for the day.

He traced his finger over the hemline on your top, gingerly ghosting over it. While you were still scanning over the words in the book, it brought him some satisfaction that you were still listening to what he said. "Surely, I won't have to beg you to stay in bed tonight." There was a bashful smile on his features as he poked, "What if I need something in the night? You've been doting on me all day, but my legs are still numb."

You rolled your eyes, flipping to the next page of your book. "You are the head of the Yashiro Commission, you are not delicate or fragile. We have plenty of attendants, should you need anything you're strong enough to leave the bed and call for their assistance."

He made sure to exaggerate his expression as he pouted, stopping the movement of his free hand. "I may be the head of the Commission, but that doesn't mean I'm indestructible. Perhaps I want to be taken care of for once." He closed his eyes and huffed as he pushed his head further into your chest, "I don't sleep well at night when you aren't next to me. I need the rest if I am to make a full recovery come tomorrow."

"You're more than welcome to get your 'restful sleep' now, there is nothing stopping you." You continued to scan over the kanji sprawled across the page in front of you. Your hand stopped tracing its own circles on his back, opting to rest comfortably against the curve of his spine.

He sighed, dramatically. Even though he acted annoyed, he couldn't deny the pacifying qualities of your touch and your attention. It would be stripped from him at the end of the day he glumly realized, but being unable to have your focus on him unequivocally for the past few months truly weighed on him.

He wanted your eyes to only look at him. He wanted your arms around him every night, every single day. He wanted to be able to indulge himself in your company after work like a glutton. Every single ounce of your remaining time would be spent with him in his own little ideal fantasy world, but with every rejection he could feel his already broken heart crack and shatter just a little bit more.

Would it kill you to share a bed with him? Kill you to be willing to sit in the same room? To eat dinner together? Maybe sit down and discuss both of your work days? If you couldn't love him, could you at the very least pretend? Perhaps that was why he couldn't be mad at you for only loving him conditionally.

He couldn't convince you to love him at all otherwise.

He sat up from where he was leaning on you, pressing his hands down on one of your thighs, "What must I do to convince you, darling? Is there really nothing? I've enjoyed spending the day with you so much I fear I won't be able to take it if you withdraw so suddenly."

You raised a brow skeptically, still not taking your eyes off of your page. He playfully smacked you on the arm, trying to draw your attention away from your silly book. "No, Ayato, I've already told you there is no reason for me to sleep here tonight. You have everything you could possibly need-"

"But what if I need you here?" He urged, wrapping his hand around your bicep. He tugged, scrunching up his fist along with the fabric. "Your husband is a very greedy man, you agreed to take care of me today."

You still didn't divert your attention from the light novel in your hand, flipping to another page. "Just because you are greedy doesn't mean I'll spoil you to death. I agreed to take care of you during the day, I didn't say anything about tonight."

He whined your name, moving to straddle your hips. He put his hand over your book and pushed it to the side. His hands gripped the collar of your yukata, forcing you to look at him, focus on him without any distractions. The divine pink that surged up from your neck sent a pleasant satisfaction pooling in the bottom of his gut. "Could you just consider it a part of your obligation to me today? How can your heart stand to see your precious husband begging you to come to bed and still be so cruel-hearted?"

In any other circumstance, you'd likely shove him off, but in this scenario you let his hands wrinkle the fabric of your collar. Your hands rested tentatively on his waist, averting eye contact. "Only you seem to be calling yourself precious here, Lord Kamisato."

He gasped, putting an offended hand over his heart, "How could you still say such hurtful things to me?" He threw his other hand over his forehead, closing his eyes as he slumped away from you sadly. "You should be groveling and begging for my forgiveness, dearest."

You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to his exposed temple, "There, does that make up for it?"

He turned back to face you, rested his hands on your chest again. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before resting his face in the crook of your neck. "Partially, I do believe you know what truly would make it up to me."

You huffed, "I'm afraid I will have to leave this injustice unresolved." You picked up your book from where he'd shoved it out of your hands.

Promptly, his hand rested on top of yours. His face withdrew from where it had comfortably rested, "If you aren't going to be here tonight, could you at the very least pay attention to me?"

You seemed to consider wrestling your page-turner from him, to turn him down again. But instead, you let a deep breath pass your lips before setting the hardcover on the nightstand and opening your arms. You were basically offering yourself up to him.

He let himself fall into your embrace, a happy purr passing his lips as he slumped against your chest. He let himself be babied as you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and pulled him into your chest and rested your chin on top of the crown of his head.

If he only had today, he would wring as much love from you as he could.

"What are you doing here?"

The Yashiro Commissioner hummed as he took a pointed seat across from you in front of your desk. "Will you be this suspicious of me for the rest of our lives? Is it really all that strange that I want to make a routine out of coming to visit you at work?"

You flipped to the next page of one of the various packets of documents on your desk, "I believe the question you should be asking is whether or not you will always want something from me when you make a visit." Your middle finger carefully scanned over the line of said document before carefully filling out a beautifully calculative signature.

"Oh hush," Ayato gently rested his forearms across the table, face in his palm, "I finally decide to trouble myself with the trip to your workplace and the only thing I get is a sour attitude. Whatever will I do?"

Despite the sincere nature of the words that would flow from your mouth, your dreadfully flat tone betrayed any potential endearment. "How treacherous, for such a doting lover to be so unappreciated."

He smiled, despite all your mockery, always able to find a way to twist each and every little action of yours in his mind. "Precisely, I do believe that you should make it up to me, darling."

You rolled your eyes, "It seems every time I fail to greet you as if we have been starcrossed lovers separated by the cruel writings of fate and time, you believe I have inexplicably wronged you, Ayato."

His hands came to rest on his heart, the sweet jingle of the metals on his attire creating the auditory illusion of the similarly sweet chime of bells. "Because you have!" One of his hands reached forward to rest on your table, "Each and every morning I wake and we are apart, my heart shatters into an insurmountable pile of pieces. Every moment we are apart, my very soul longs to be by your side-"

You waved him off with your non-dominant hand, "Yes, Ayato, you have made all of this clear to me since the moment we were wed. What is it that you want from me? I'm afraid I don't have as much time to entertain you today."

"How cruel," he pouted, "I only wished to invite you out for lunch today."

You raised your brow, still not taking your eyes off your current page. Carefully, you set one packet of paperwork off to the side before setting your sights on another. "What exactly do you 'wish' to get out of lunch?"

There was a saccharine chortle that resounded through the air, "Your company, dearest. I've missed you so." He absentmindedly checked for a clock somewhere around the room, "I do believe I got the time correct, you usually send for your own meal around this hour, don't you?"

You paused, setting down your brush finally. "I suppose I do."

His eyes glistened expectantly, pressing both of his palms firmly on the table. The same cunning smile you used to find so beautiful seemed to only churn a mixed cauldron of negative emotions within the bottom of your ribcage.

"..."

"..."

You sighed, "As much as I would love to join you, I'm afraid your argument falls apart when one realizes I usually work through my lunch. I can't exactly afford to fall behind."

He groaned, his hands shooting forward to grasp at your own. He seemed to completely ignore the fact that you flinched backwards at his touch. Instead, his gloved hands swallowed up your own palms in his, expression desperate as he hunched over your desk. Your eyes weren't very focused on his face when you noticed just how close his pure white sleeve was to a nearly full inkwell. "You work far too much for someone with so many subordinates who are perfectly capable of doing the same job. Surely, you can spare me just an hour? An hour, no more, I swear to you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze from his. "I work because I want things done correctly, I know I can trust myself to complete such matters within the given time frame. As trusted as my employees may be, in the middle of a project as large as-"

He huffed, pressing a kiss to back of your hand, "You're always beginning and ending projects back-to-back, if you don't give your workers any opportunities to prove themselves, will you simply continue to work yourself to death? You don't have a much better chance than this. Give me this one hour, give yourself this one hour, love. Just this once?"

"Ayato-" you tried to warn, however, you were interrupted by this all powerful primal sense of dread as he stood up from his seat across your desk. He circled around you like a hawk before coming to sit by your side instead. One of his hands trailed to your thigh, resting there, innocently malicious. You called his name again, reprimanding intonation, but he seemed to pay no mind.

He rested his head at the junction connecting your collarbone to your neck, just gently ghosting his lips over the skin that remained exposed above your collar. Self-pity washed over you like a flood, accompanied with an embarrassed heat flooding across your face. "This is highly inappropriate at my place of work-"

"Then let's take it out of your place of work." He whispered it tenderly against your neck, nestled right between gentle samplings of your skin. "We can always just go out for lunch too, either way, the decision is yours, darling."

You chewed your bottom lip reluctantly. It seemed, however, Ayato didn't seem to be feeling all that merciful or patient.

He bit down just beneath what would've been visible on your collar.

"Okay, okay- We can go out to lunch, give me some time to arrange for some work to be evenly redistributed." You scowled at his more than satisfied grin, pushing his face away from you, "You are such a headache."

"Yours," he hummed, all but delighted at the outcome of your conversation. He could care less about being unceremoniously being forced to get his grubby little hands off you, instead all but celebrating in his mind as he stood up and dusted himself off.

Yes, you mentally lamented, unfortunately, he was your headache.

'Would you be interested in walking me home?'

"H-Oh shiiiitttt-"

"You're much too loud, if you can't keep it down, I'll leave you here by yourself."

Chinju Forest was quiet and undisturbed a majority of the time, something that appealed to you in your younger years. You enjoyed being invited to the Kamisato Estate as a child just so you could come and sit in the tranquility of the silent trees and the whispering brook.

Pluck off your sandals, toss your socks into the grass and let the tips of your toes gently ease their way into the moving stream. You and the other young heir would come here during your fathers' meetings. Unlike you, when the two of you made your way into the forest, he enjoyed running around.

He liked to skip stones, to hunt for Crawfish underneath the large boulders, run after fireflies in the darkness created by the canopy of trees. While you rested and allowed yourself to turn off your brain, Ayato took hold of his opportunity to be a child. Despite his rather prim and proper nature as an adult, he enjoyed chasing you around with angry cicadas when he was young.

While your sword had seen the punishing end of the hilt in your older teenage years, you hated the idea of filth when you were a child. He enjoyed your screams of terror and the way you'd retreat into the creek, barefoot when he'd come to the water's edge with a screaming bug.

He was your tormentor up until your late twenties, it seemed. Now, you enjoyed tormenting him. To make him uncomfortable, that was your purpose, your passion.

Which is exactly why your pace, like always, was punishing. The grass was soft against his back, but it seemed with each connection of your hips with his you were intent on driving him into the hard ground. He should have felt humiliated, to be defiled against the soil, but he couldn't help the pleasant pulse of ecstasy freely pumping through his body.

His right hand gripped your shoulder in a bruising grasp, fingers coiling around your collarbone. His nails dug into your skin, sure to leave angry little crescent marks in their wake. His left hand was clamped over his mouth, in an attempt to be quieter.

His eyes were squeezed shut, eyebrows curled upwards towards the inner corners of his eyes. Had this been any other time, he would've been alert and at full attention. Drinking in the sight of the man of his dreams looming over him, sweaty and laser-focused on every single arch of his back and every roll of his hips. However, in the middle of the woods, with only the curtain of shadows casted by the tree tops, he couldn't seem to muster up the strength to pull open his eyelids.

What with the churning shame in the bottom of his gut and the surging tendrils of overstimulation coiling through the insides of his you were currently rearranging, he couldn't do it. With the vice grip on his hips and the piercing stare you were aiming at him, it seemed impossible.

"Tell me-" you hissed in between harsh jabs of your hips, "could you really have not waited for me to get home? Was the sole purpose of your trip to my office to lure me into your bed again?"

As much as he might've wanted to answer, Ayato could only answer in pitiful whimpers and whine into the palm of his glove. Each and every single one of them being punctuated with another angry shove of your dick further inside of him.

His eyelids darted open when your attention seemed to shift to the fabric of the glove he was currently biting. Your fingers curled around his wrist and pinned it to the grass next to his head, "Hey-" your hips halted for just a few seconds before moving agonizingly slowly. Just barely enough movement to keep fanning the flames of overwhelming want in his gut, just barely enough to be prodding at his prostate, but slowly enough he was painfully aware of the twitch of his own erection against his stomach. "I asked you a question."

He nodded blearily, shaking his head as quickly as the friction against the nape of his neck would. He tried to let a few words stumble from his swollen lips, but he could only blubber pathetically and push his perineum closer to you in response.

You pulled him to be flush against your pelvis, looming over him with a tilt of your head. "Words, Ayato, use your words."

"Yes- Archons yes- please just keep moving-" he begged.

He mewled with another quick roll of your hips into his, left hand clenching and unclenching around nothing next to his head. "Really? What did I ask you? Did you hear me or are you too much of a slut to think about anything but how to get me to touch you again?"

"I'm a slut-" his back arched up dramatically as your hand smeared the lines of white that painted his exposed stomach against his skin, "I'm yOur whore- hnnn~"

He tried to squeeze his thighs together as another teasing wave of pleasure surged past his senses, another hiccup falling past his teeth. He tried to pull you impossibly closer with his legs, but found the traitorous tremor in his muscles prevented him from exerting any real strength.

"Did you touch yourself during work? Was that really all that was on your mind while you sorted through your papers?" Your hand teased his dick, languid strokes up and down as you watched him seize up in a beautiful curve.

His mouth fell open as another string of curses slid out of his throat like a waterfall. You also couldn't help the grunt that resounded through the air past your own closed lips when he got impossibly tighter around you. You pulled his hair to get him to look at you, "Answer me."

He nodded again, "Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes-" He keened, trying to push himself further into the gentle caress of your hand. "I coUldn't stohoopp thinking about youU-"

You hummed, "So you fingered yourself open over your desk? You didn't excuse yourself to your room or anything? No breaks? Just how long did you sit there touching yourself before my lunch break?"

He shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he tried to shy away from your prying leer. "I don't know- ouH~"

"Was it really that long?" You continued to stroke his painfully red dick through another orgasm. "Give me an estimate."

He trembled, only really trying to pull himself together as you started getting slower with your movements. "I-I-" He swallowed, "M-maybe an hour? Ahn~ I don't knohowww-"

He practically choked on his thoughts when you sped up again, pleas falling past his lips like a prayer as he arched up into another release.

You'd been nice enough to take care of him again after your escapade in the woods.

You took him home, explained he'd 'fallen ill' on the way home, and informed the staff (Thoma) you'd be back in around an hour to take care of him after sorting out work affairs.

Just like before, you let him gently wrap you around his nimble finger. Each and every little request was met as long as his words were sweet enough, as long as he played each and every one of his little cards right. As long as he looked pitiful enough, you would let him cuddle up in your lap. If he complained enough, he could convince you to give him a massage.

Sweetly, he would call your name and you'd be at his side. Patiently, you'd brush the hair off of his face and make sure he was comfortable. If he so wished it, you would let him join you in your office while you worked. Of course, while you could hand off your work to others in your company, Inazuma, the Commissions, and politics didn't stop just because he needed the day off.

Instead of getting one of his many retainers to do his work for him, you took it upon yourself to sit yourself down at his desk and take care of it yourself. A husband should be able to understand and complete his partner's job, you told him when he teased you for it. So, despite never having dipped your proverbial toe into the world of politics, you took on the mantle without hesitation.

Paper after paper, meeting after meeting. Later in the day, you even bothered yourself with hand-delivering a few signed notices and making appearances in spots he was supposed to be. It was only understandable you would return home exhausted after that. Still, in your tired daze, you insisted that you would sleep in your office once again.

"If not for me, than for yourself, darling." He pleaded, perched at the edge of the futon in his Yukata. He watched you wander around the room tucking away paper after paper and muttering to yourself. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were to sleep on the ground tonight. You've just about worked your fingers to the bone so I could take the rest of the day off."

You waved him off with a hand, eyes still scanning over a booklet of etiquette that came with a Tricommission meeting. Seeing as the Yashiro Commission mainly served as a cultural regulator and mediator between the two commissions, the tasks of the acting representative during the meeting were relatively simple. In theory, it wouldn't be difficult to allow Ayato another day of rest. All you would need to do would be to resolve any conflicts should they-

"Would it ease your mind if I slept elsewhere tonight?"

You only really snapped out of it when you felt his arms rest themselves delicately around your hips.

"I-" You cleared your throat, "No, there's no need. I can manage just fine with you here."

You felt him sigh against your back, resting his face against your shoulder blade. "So you'll stay here tonight? I'm glad."

You paused, "That... isn't what I meant." You gently pried his arms off of the curves of your waist, snapping the booklet you'd been cradling shut. "I'm a grown man. A sore back isn't a concern I've made a priority for a long time. You can sleep here, I will be fine in my office."

He pressed himself into your back, if not only insisting with his words, than also with his actions. "I don't care if you'll be fine in your office, I care what is best for you. You've worked all day, it's nearly midnight. The futon will comfort your physical ailment if not your mental strain. I can sleep in my own office tonight for a change."

You shook your head, sliding the booklet into one of the many shelves that adorned your walls. "Absolutely not. You will sleep in bed tonight as you always have, I only worked this hard so you could recover your strength. Sleeping on the ground would only-"

He huffed, "If you don't want to sleep in the same room as me, I'll be sleeping in my office. You can't seriously think you'll be able to stop me. If you want me to sleep in bed, you will sleep in the bed with me."

You shook your head, "That-"

You flinched as he pushed you up against the wall, inhaling deeply as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. What made the position all the more embarrassing was your inability to gauge his expression. "Please?"

You sighed, "Don't make this difficult. Sleep in bed, sleeping in my office isn't a bother to me-"

He called your name again, exasperated. "Do I have to sweeten the deal for you in some way? What do I have to do for you to take my offer seriously?" He wrapped you up in his arms again, this time snuggly situating himself around your torso. "I'm tired of only catching glimpses of your grumpy face when you leave in the morning because of the lackluster sleep you managed to get. Just for tonight, I promise. If you don't believe me on anything else, just for tonight I'm asking you to sleep on the futon sincerely out of concern for your wellbeing and not my own selfish desires."

"Ayato-"

He gave your torso a squeeze. In fact, he let you unravel his arms from your figure without any of the usual fuss. "What do you say?"

You shook your head, turning to face him with an annoyed expression, "Go to bed like you do every night, I don't know how many times I need to keep telling you-"

He silenced your complaints with his lips.

He wrenched his arms from your grip on them, going to trail them up and down your sides. You exploded in surprised shudders, unwittingly complicit in his little act of intimacy. Soon enough, he was sinking down on his knees, pressing his lips to your clothed body at random intervals on his way down.

"What are you doing?"

His breathing got heavier as he descended, fingers settling at your waistband. "You only finished once earlier, didn't you?" With a flick of his wrist, he exposed your flaccid dick to the cold air of your bedroom. He gave an experimental lick up the side from base to tip, listening to the sharp inhalation of air through your teeth. He could feel it getting hard under his tongue with a few more kitten licks to the tip.

"If you aren't tired enough to stay in bed as is, I'm sure I could tire you out some more."

Ayato gave a sleepy sigh as he sunk into your chest.

Today, it seemed, you two still had enough energy for some clean-up post-coitus.

You admonished him gently. "Hold still, you'll end up getting soap in your eye." Your hands gently combed through his hair and did your best to swipe the foamy bubbles off of his forehead. You did your best to scrub the sweat off his scalp while still remaining tender.

He curled up against you despite all the space that was left in your rather luxurious bathtub. His legs tangled with yours in your seat, tracing hearts over where yours was hidden beneath your skin. You grabbed the wooden bowl from beside the tub, filling it with water before pouring it over Ayato's head gently.

The suds ran down his back and into the rest of the tub. He rubbed what little soap remained around his eyes before looking up at you. Something similar to a cat purring emanated from his chest, eyes filled with a soft fondness you couldn't stomach head-on.

It would've been nice if he hadn't forced the ring on your finger half a year ago. It would've been sweet, it would've been mind-numbingly heartwarming. But as it stood, you couldn't seem to meet such a gaze without a deep resentment bubbling up in your chest. Even if you might've wanted to fall in love for the sake of your own sanity in the long run, could you really ever learn to love someone like him?

As if reading your mind, he interrupted your thoughts by reaching up to grab the bottle of shampoo himself. "Do you want me to wash your hair too?"

Still, despite knowing he would never do anything to hurt you, to so much as go out of his way to upset you, you could've let yourself to let your guard down to him in the slightest. "No, I can do it myself."

Ayato snickered, "Well, I know you can, but do you want to have your hair washed?" His laughter was soft and domestic sounding, something that should've squeezed your heart gently. Yet, the squeeze felt more like an impromptu strangling. Something hurt when he laughed so mercifully. Something felt extremely wrong when he laughed without so much as a care.

Did he care about you?

Did he have the capacity to care about anyone but himself?

Did he truly love you, or did he love the idea of the two of you together?

He waved a hand in front of your face, calling your name quizzically. "Did you hear me? Do you want me to wash your hair or would you rather just rinse it tonight?" He shook his head, the water droplets that clung to his exposed skin glistening in the low lamplight. "Nevermind, just go ahead and turn around, let me take care of it."

You shook your head. "I can do it myself, you should relax."

He clicked his tongue, "Let me do this one thing for you. You always seem to take care of me and never let me do the same for you. Do you honestly think so poorly of me? There isn't any poison in it."

'Yes', you thought breathlessly, more like admitted it to yourself. 'You did think that badly of him.'

You already told yourself earlier, reassured yourself, he wouldn't so much as hurt a hair on your head if not for your own wellbeing than his twisted ideal of this relationship. You wondered if someday, if you didn't play into this little role he'd assigned you in his head, would he ever grow bored of you?

Would he no longer be interested in playing happy little family with you?

Would he toss you to the side like all the other lives he seemed to treat like objects to creep further towards his goals?

What did it mean exactly to be one of his goals? You didn't know.

The fact that you didn't know scared you.

It scared you more than anything.

Perhaps that was the true reason you wouldn't ever let him care for you. You didn't know what his definition of care was.

"Please?" he pleaded again. He always loved to drop in that magic word whenever you were feeling more open to spending time with him. "You just used the shampoo on me, you usually use it yourself, it couldn't hurt just this once, could it?"

"Fine, but don't draw it out. I want to go to bed soon."

You watched the smile grow on his features as he gripped at the sides of your face. He peppered kisses all over, gracious thanks leaving his lips every moment they weren't attached to your face. You silently let him continue to shower you in his affections.

Finally, when he seemed to be done with kissing you wherever he could plant his mouth, you let yourself sink more into the bathtub. You leveled yourself out to where he could get to your locks.

You leaned against him, though he was quick to admonish you for being as stiff as a board. "Relax, I'm not going to do anything but wash your hair, love. You worry too much."

He planted another kiss to the wet skin of your nape before dumping a generous amount of shampoo into his waiting palm. He rubbed his hands together to gather up the suds before his hands descended upon your waiting scalp with a calculated gentleness.

He seemed to pay special attention to each and every hair on your head. The obvious devotion made you feel like you were squirming in your own skin.

Carefully, he brushed the hair away from your face, lathering each and every lock thoroughly. It seemed as though he was looking for every excuse he could to touch you.

"That's enough, my hair is more than clean by now."

He went to complain, but held his tongue. It seemed he realized just as quickly as you did that you were being far too lenient with him. But it was difficult to stop him at the same time. Usually, you were good at maintaining your boundaries and making sure he knew you weren't going to fall victim to this ludacris script he'd orchestrated in the recesses of his twisted mind.

But throughout the course of the night, there seemed to be one thought that scared you more than what Ayato's definition of care was.

What would he do to you when he stopped caring altogether?

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" hey guys, kicks rocks "

I FINALLY FINISHED IT

if you were reading literally anything else I posted today, you'd already know I wrote and rewrote this like ten times and then I was having trouble picking which parts I wanted to be in the final post but AHHHHH it's finally here!!!

I know a lot of people wanted Ayato and the reader to actually fall in love but in my mind that's really not like a mental bridge that the character I wrote can cross, maybe eventually, but that'd have to be like decades in the future when they're old and pruny lols

requests are always open and welcome! (with a fair warning that I have a lil handful of them in my backpocket that I'm working on)

thank u to all my faithful readers for motivating me to keep writing everyday!!!

I personally would like to dedicate the editing phase of this fic to my bf's sad girl playlist

- love, operator t-19

[nanazlut]

𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞) — 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

minors and ageless blogs dni!

— ∘˚˳°𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲∘˚˳°: several flashbacks of your deceased husband torment you and now you’re wondering if you ever would find a passionate love like his.

— ∘˚˳°𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬∘˚˳°: porn with plot, mentions of toxic relationships

— a/n: this is based in the 1976 movie doña flor and her two husband’s and I couldn’t help but think im satosugu hehe.

reblogs, comments and feedback are appreciated :3

It might be that he wants to see you agonize.

What it doesn’t have is decency. It never will.

Your mother was right about the pain and distress marrying a man like Gojo would bring into your life. Unfortunately for her, there was nothing you could do to leave him behind. One day, you really hoped he would keep his feet back on the ground and you could finally be a normal couple.

This suffering is the window of the woman’s condition.

No matter how bad the man treated you, you kept him for the wonders the cock between his legs gave you.

Now matter how tormented his absence during the night caused you, or the gambling nights in which he spent your money. In other way or another, a night would be enough to make you shudder and keep wondering if one day…

The wedding night was a memory that kept you wide awake. Naked, in the stifling and sweaty sheets, this memory flutters into a burning desire full of guilt. How many nights have passed since his tragic and yet joyful departure? Dancing in bliss and ending up on the floor thanks to a heart attack.

You can still remember that horrible feeling. His dead body lying on your thighs, trying to get a signal. It could be another stupid joke of his. The many whispers of his friends conspiring against whoever wanted him dead stunned and disoriented your perception of that awful reality. Who would have wanted that? He was a good man, you think for yourself.

You can’t turn back time.

It was inevitable.

If it weren't for the loan sharks and mobsters who ran the casinos where he gambled, his damaged liver would have ended his life. Yet you wanted to believe he was still a good man. Behind the lies, the disrespect, the untruths, and the deceit, there had to be something better about Gojo.

It was the sex, but every time you thought about it, even when he was still alive, embarrassment and modesty would reject those thoughts.

Where did you stay?

Yes, your wedding night. It is very wrong to talk about the dead when they can no longer defend themselves. It is better to bring only pleasant memories, like this one.

You kiss him passionately, your arms are around his neck and your hands play with the errands of that strange white hair. You can smell a pleasant scent impregnated in it. He was preparing for this special day. It was strange. Gojo never thought that this day would come. It was not something typical for a soul like him, who claimed that he belonged to all women.

Nevertheless, something intoxicating hypnotized him from the moment he saw you. Unluckily, not even that love and passion were enough to change that primitive desire to long for other women.

He removes the bridal veil, still absorbed in your lips, which, hungry for affection, play with his tongue in a kiss that burns your mouth. With your eyes closed, he caresses your body, searching the fabric where your dress ends. He tries to pull off the simple dress you have chosen with one tug, leaving you in your underwear. This separates you for a moment so you can finally breathe. Your bra and panties are the only things covering you in this intimate and very personal encounter.

He can’t help but run his wet kisses along your collarbones while his playful hand deftly unbuckles your bra. The moment your breasts are exposed to him, a nervous shame makes you cover them, as if you couldn't handle this level of intimacy.

He lets out a giggle. “You act as if this were our first time.” As if it were a game, you suddenly run out to cover your naked body in the sheets of your new bed. The embarrassment is hard to handle and you hide half of your face in the pillow, still able to see Gojo unbuttoning his shirt.

“Ah, my love. If God wanted us to be sterile, He wouldn’t have created sex. Our purpose in this life is to have children and die to complete our cycle in this life.” He recites excitedly. A grin of carnal desire decorates his lips as he quickly takes off his clothes.

You can still remember his body, toned, well-built and slender. It's a pity that his organs didn't match his outwardly “healthy” and virtuous body.

There’s no need to speak ill of the dead.

You find this gibberish funny. Nevertheless, this new married life and intimate moment are somehow new for you. Then, suddenly, he rips off your thoughts alongside the sheets. “Gojo!” You let out a sigh full of shame and you cover your chest again.

Gojo stops and looks at your perfect body. “My little princess…” He approaches you and brings your lips back to his. He runs his fingers down your belly, caressing gently until he reaches your cunt. He introduces two of his digits into your dump fold and uses it to caress your clit. His playful mouth leaves kisses on your forehead, cheeks and neck.

You get back in bed and press your back against the wall. That way it’s a little more comfortable for him when he pushes his fingers into your wet cunt. It is funny to think how right he was about the modesty and shame with which you handled the situation. You were moaning with pleasure and he could feel you exhaling your hot breath, which made him bring your mouths together again.

“Oh, my love…” you hide your face in his shoulders. He wants to torment you and he’s never tired of challenging you.

This is what’s inside a woman and it shouldn't be. The fact that a man like him causes this pleasure and you will be bound to this hell for the rest of your life. You won’t be able to leave him thanks to this fervent lust that heats your body from the inside out.

Before you could cum, he separated from you to pull down his pants, exposing his thick girth. That’s the other reason why you decided to marry him. His teeth suck on your collarbones. He’s smart enough not to leave hickeys on your neck. You can feel the tip of his cock poking your vaginal lips. Now all you can do is surrender to your husband.

“My beautiful flower.” He mutters as he shoves himself into you. Your walls tighten and that’s a sign for him to keep thrust. The way he slams his cock makes you capable of bear the bad husband he could become.

What has no shame, it will never have.

Your nerves are claiming in agony and your organs are imploring in this burning night, in which you are slamming your fingers inside you, to see if you are capable of ever feel something again.

You will never see his blue eyes or smell his fresh toothpaste breath after kissing him with a horrible onion and garlic mixture before that.

You haven’t been feeling well lately. Mom could see Gojo’s death did nothing but worsen your afflictions.

“Not even dead that man doesn't leave you alone!” Mother claims. You are sitting in a chair, while a cup of tea is waiting to be drink. You had come from visiting Gojo’s grave. And your mother can’t respect that.

Her non-sense talk keeps going on while your thoughts are drifting away.

You walk downtown to distract yourself and finally, follow your mother’s advice. You go to the local drugstore and Suguru Geto is there.

You remember him from your husband’s funeral. He is the complete opposite of what your husband was in life — he was a refined, cultured, educated man and knew about pharmacology issues. Someone you never thought you’d have a talk with.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/N” He greets you in a nervous manner.

“Good morning, Dr. Suguru.” You greet with an harmonious calmness. “I was looking for some liver medicine. I think I’ve been really obsessed with gambling and...”

“Oh, I think that has nothing to do with you liver...”

“Oh, well... I just...” You blush. Now that you thought about it, he’s a well-looking man. “What I meant is... that is good to see you around. I hope you’re having a great day.” You smile.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 15

Part 15:

A week after Liana started working in a small Architecture Firm in New York, her boss called her in for a meeting. Anxiety took over for a moment. She was sweating in her hands and felt like she was going to faint as she sat there, waiting for the 50-year-old man to tell her that she had probably managed to mess up and now she was fired.

"Oh, Liana Levy, the girl of the hour!" He walked into the office cheerfully, causing her to scratch her nose for a second and mentally curse herself. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble." He probably understood her level of stress. No matter how hard she tried, Liana could never hide what she was thinking. "I don't understand what's going on..." She forced a smile, trying not to stutter.

"We received a construction project and the client specifically requested you. He saw your final project in Oxford and was impressed." The man explained. "Specifically me?" Liana asked. "Yes, it's for building a house, in a suburb near New York. To design from scratch. He must really trust you because he insisted that you manage everything." He seemed enthusiastic. Too enthusiastic to be giving such a new employee such a large responsibility. "Of course, you'll get a percentage of this project, and it's one of the most expensive our company has taken on this year. You should be happy; I'll assemble a team for you." He concluded.

"Can I get some details about who ordered the project?" Liana found the mental strength to ask, while Ronen, her boss, was already buried in paperwork. "His name is Art Donaldson. If you follow tennis, you probably know him; he's a rising star in the sport," he said without looking at her. As Liana returned to her desk, the news spread through the office like wildfire. Everyone wondered how the girl with the least experience got the responsibility for the most expensive contract the company had received this year.

Tashi saw Liana from afar as she threw balls to Art and he chased after them. She hadn't seen the her in over three years, but you could tell from Liana's body language that Tashi wouldn't want to be in Art's shoes at the moment. Her steps were quick and long, and she was flushed. All her movements radiated nerves and anger.

"Can I steal him?" Art turned in complete surprise, completely missing the ball Tashi sent his way. "Hey, Liana." Tashi said to her in an amused tone, "Nice to see you." she added. They never had a special connection, but she knew that if the woman in front of her had managed to wrap Patrick and Art around her little finger for years, there must be something worth not ignoring. Tashi didn't see it tho.

"You too." She said to Tashi in response but didn't look at her; her gaze was fixed on Art, "Now, Donaldson," her jaw clenched, and Tashi saw Art swallow and not even ask her before he climbed to the stands, two steps at a time. "Sure, Art, of course you can leave in the middle of training." Tashi said sarcastically. "Maybe I'll bring you his head on a platter." Liana replied instead of him, causing Tashi to raise her hands in surrender. She didn't want to get involved in whatever this was.

Art decided he could look at her like this for hours. Flushed cheeks, glazed green eyes, quick walk toward the shade. He wanted to hug her for a second. To tell her that everything would be okay. That whatever it was, he would solve it for her. But all that after he looked at her a bit longer, while she was just like this. Almost wild. Almost animalistic. Acting purely on instinct. Not thinking about consequences. Only about the here and now. And in her current here and now, Art was present. And after three years of complete ignorance, he called it a win.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" she asked. Her leg was shaking. He couldn't ignore it. But more than anything, he wanted to chuckle. It didn't suit her. This level of anger. She was so small. So delicate. She looked like she could murder him. Physically lift one of the benches and end him right here and now. "A lot of things... right now I don't really like my haircut, I switched barbers and I feel like he cut off too much hair, what do you think, Li?" he answered, trying not to laugh. He couldn't take the situation seriously.

"You know that was my workplace, right?" she said, and he nodded. "Of course, I know. I was very specific in my requirements." He shrugged. Liana could murder him. She was sure of it. His smile was too smug. If she pushed him, maybe he would fall and roll down all the stairs. He deserved it. "Art. People in the office where I've been working for only a week think I sucked your dick and that's why I got a job that's going to earn me more money than I've made in all the years I've existed." she almost screamed. To Art's credit, he held back really well and didn't say 'technically you did suck my dick and sometimes I still imagine it when I want to cum quickly.'

"Li, you're exaggerating." He rolled his eyes instead. "Am I exaggerating? A week! I've been working there for a week! Suddenly the biggest project comes in, and I'm the one managing it? Have you lost your mind?!" she asked. Well, maybe she did scream. He was wandering if Tashi could hear them. She wouldn't let him off the hook. But he didn't care that much. "I bought land and I need to build a house. That's the truth," he said with feigned defeat. "All the construction and planning companies are out of business?" she replied. Her hands were folded under her chest and Art was a man who respected himself and her, so he didn't stare. He only glanced at her chest occasionally.

"I don't know anyone who talks about buildings like you talk about buildings." He shrugged again. As if it were a logical answer. As if Liana were the only architect in the world. "I have no experience, Art. All my experience is completely theoretical." She said in defeat. And Art knew he had officially won. "Liana, I trust you. Besides, think about how exciting this is. Your first project, and you have completely free rein. I trust your taste 100 percent." He stated, not taking his eyes off her. He didn't trust her taste 100 percent; she was in a relationship with Patrick. But he trusted her taste, her abilities, and her passion. She talked about buildings like he talked about tennis. He had a way to give her a good start, not even she could stop him from doing that.

"What do you mean by free rein?" she asked. "Whatever you want to do with this land, do it. Without thinking about the budget. I won some big tournaments this year. It's all good." He shrugged again. As if it were no big deal, but he continued to scrutinize her. He wanted to see that she was proud of his achievements.

"I need to talk to Patrick." She stated, causing Art to raise an eyebrow. "Why?" "Because he's my boyfriend, Art. And this might not sit well with him." She concluded, turning her back to him and walking away. Once again, Art had always been a respectful man, but the sight of her ass walking away in anger was an image he planned to keep in his head for the near future.

"What was that?" Tashi asked, half amused and half curious. "Liana." Art replied, not wanting to elaborate. "I didn't ask who it was, I asked what it was." She clarified, rolling her eyes as she walked to the other side of the net and picked up her racket, seeing Art mimic the action. "That was a point for Art." He answered, more to himself. Tashi hadn't seen Art play like he did in that practice since they were at Stanford.

"Of course not, Liana." Patrick looked horrified. "What do you mean 'of course not'?" she responded. "You are not going to build Art Donaldson's house." He sat down on the torn couch that one of his friends had given them as a gift, shifting his gaze from her to the TV that was on the floor. "I don't have a choice, you know that, right Patrick?" she asked the obvious.

He laughed. The smug bastard laughed. "Of course you have a choice. You just want to work closely with Art. Stand next to him and have him sweat near you while he whispers things about the house in your ear, Liana. Do you masturbate to that when I'm not here?" he responded. "You're an idiot. You really, really are an idiot and need some medical help. You know that? It's clinical in my opinion." she said, completely exhausted from the day's twists and turns. She stood with her back to him and her face to the fan.

"Do you understand the concept of work, Patrick? Do you know what 'boss' means? Do you know what it means when someone else decides your schedule? Do you understand discipline? Because for us to have money for a freaking couch that doesn't smell like piss, one of us needs to work." she said, turning her head towards him.

He looked at her with disgust. No less, no more, disgust. "So, you've decided to be Art Donaldson's whore?" he asked with feigned calm, as if it were a logical question. She turned fully and approached him, crouching in front of him and looking directly into his eyes. "You have 5 seconds to apologize before this becomes the last time you see me in your life." Her gaze was darker. Almost aggressive. Uncharacteristic. He really pushed her to the edge and back in seconds.

"Liana, you must see—" he started, looking aside, unable to contain such level of rage directed at him. "First, apologize for what you said, then speak." She stood up and moved away from him but didn't break eye contact. Expecting him to look at her again. "I'm sorry, of course I don't think you're Art's whore, come on, Liana." He looked at her, trying to minimize what he had said.

She rolled her eyes in response and went back to standing in front of the fan. "You must see what he's doing." He continued from before. "He's building a house you're imagining, Liana. You're building a house you love. Who do you think he wants to live there? Do you really think he's building your dream house for himself? Do you really think Art Donaldson thinks you're that talented?" he almost scoffed at the end.

Patrick didn't believe she could be that naive. Something in him knew no one could be that naive. He was sure part of Liana wanted Art's closeness just as much as he knew Art wanted hers. "You don't think I'm that talented?" she asked, turning her head to him but not her whole body. He hated the fact that recently, even when they were fighting, not all her attention was on him. The fight didn't consume her entirely like it did to him. Right now, she was more concerned with being hot than being angry at him.

"Of course I think you're talented, Liana," he sighed. Not understanding how he ended up in this corner. "Good, because I am really fucking talented. Why are you on the couch by the way? Don't you have a tournament in two days?" she suddenly asked. "I'm resting." "No, you're giving up on yourself. Again." She rolled her eyes.

Liana saw Art training for the same tournament today. They had been in New York for over a month, and Patrick had been to the tennis court four times; Liana knew because she counted. "I'm going to build him the fucking house, Patrick, it's my job, and I want to have money to buy a TV stand. If you don't like it, you're welcome to find yourself a simple, ordinary job of simple, ordinary people that will earn an amount of money that won't make me hesitate whether to buy oat milk or regular milk but then suffer from a stomachache because I want a cup of coffee but I'm lactose intolerant." she took a breath for a moment, "And if you ever call me someone's whore again, because of your stupid insecurity, I will personally cut off your dick. The only one who has been unfaithful in this relationship is you, so don't project your shit onto me." she concluded the conversation with a door slam.

Some days, Liana thinks she hates him. There are too many of those recently.

"I can't fucking hear you," Liana yelled into the phone as she walked among the people who had come to the tournament in New York. "Can you hear me now?" Melissa asked, but Liana heard her voice breaking up. "Hardly." She sighed. Liana missed London. She came to the almost tragic realization that the only person she knew in America and (mostly) wanted to stay in touch with was Patrick. She never had friends here. There was Rebecca, but they didn't keep in touch. Once, she could call Art her friend, but that time was far behind her. All the friends she made in recent years were left behind, and she had to build herself a new social circle. Until she managed to do that, she called Melissa every other day.

"He has a tournament today, and I just know he'll be eliminated after two matches, so why even bother?" she mumbled into the receiver. "I hope you're not talking about me, Li, because that would hurt my ego." She heard Art's voice behind her, as smug as ever. He knew she wasn't talking about him. He won awards. He was on a different level. He had a fresh campaign with Adidas. He was building a house while she didn't even have a TV stand. Liana wanted to choke him.

"I'm on the phone," she said coldly. "Someone I know?" He still spoke in the same amused tone. "No, Donaldson, you don't know her." She rolled her eyes. "Is that Art? The Art?" Melissa said in response over the phone. "Shut up," Liana shot back, unable to focus on both her and the guy in front of her, who looked as young as he looked in college and probably just as dumb. "Maybe I should know her; every friend of yours is a friend of mine, you know, according to the transitive property and all," he said, trying to grab the phone from her. "The transitive property would imply we're friends, Art, which is far from reality." She rolled her eyes again, and he chuckled as she moved away from him. "Asshole," Liana mumbled, almost forgetting the conversation she was having. "An asshole you wish you could fuck," Melissa declared, laughing. "Anyway, I can barely hear you," Liana responded, hanging up. She received a text a second later, 'Love you, bitch. Fingers crossed for Patrick at the tournament. Don't worry too much; it causes wrinkles.' At least someone still knew how to make her smile.

Art found Patrick smoking on a bench. He took a deep breath as he approached him, wearing the best smile he could muster. "If it isn't Patrick Zweig, the one and only," he said casually. Patrick raised an eyebrow at him. "Donaldson," Patrick said. And Art could see that he was the last person Patrick wanted to see. But it's tennis. It's a tennis tournament in America. What did he think would happen? "What, you didn't come all this way to see me?" Art asked with a laugh. Aware that the last time he asked this, Patrick was still with Tashi, and Art thought he cared that he was with Tashi.

"How are you man?" he sat down next to him. "Are you hitting on my girlfriend?" Patrick didn't like beating around the bush, especially not with Art. He hadn't seen Art in so long, and the unfamiliarity was surreal. "Your girlfriend." Art chuckled. "I'm surprised you two have lasted this long. You have to tell me the secret; the longest relationship I had was a month," he responded.

"Good sex," Patrick replied, looking Art directly in the eyes. Knowing that the fact Patrick had been sleeping with her for so many years definitely bothered him. It sat at the edge of his thoughts constantly. Art chuckled again. "Too bad you told her to come here, Patrick," he said, planning to leave when he realized the conversation wasn't progressing. "Too bad I told my girlfriend to come see me play tennis?" Patrick raised an eyebrow. "You forget that long before she was your girlfriend, she was my lucky charm." He walked away without giving Patrick a chance to respond.

Hey guys :) I really love this part for no particular reason. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I was enjoying writing it. Any predictions? Any thoughts? can't wait to hear from you as always. Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist xx

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[xxavengingangelxx]

Graves Defragged 1/?

As promised, here is the first part of deconstructing Graves. This part touches on the first half of the psychopath traits I want to discuss. Below is my take! I am NOT licensed to make these decisions. This is just for fun. It also touches on why I write Graves like a heartless mf'er in my longer fics. Because Graves is a heartless motherfucker.

Not proofread. I'm posting this before going to bed cause it's the only time I got between working 60+ hours a week, house chores, keeping hubby fed, etc.

To touch on my sociopath vs. psychopath post earlier, there are some in the field who argue that a sociopath is made and a psychopath is born. We don’t have enough information on Graves’s background to see whether or not he’s shown the same callous disregard for human life, disregard for rules, and narcissism earlier on. But he certainly shows those traits now.

And we do have this:

Graves: "That uniform was a limitation. I shed that skin..." Soap: "Like a fuckin' snake-" Graves: "Like a fucking soldier, son." — Soap confronts Graves about his past.

Let’s assume Graves was born a psychopath. It’s certainly possible. And if Adler is his father, then he’s got the genes for killing, anyway. Yes there are theories that say there are genes for criminality but I can post more on that later if y’all are interested.

How many traits of a psychopath does he actually have? Based on the behavior, we’ve seen, quite a bit!

Robert Hare, a Canadian psychologist, created the Hare Psychopathy Checklist (known today as the Hare Psychopathy Checklist Revised). Let’s go through the items with our crush man Graves in mind. Each of these items is rated a 0 if it does not apply, a 1 if it kind of applies, and a 2 if it definitely applies. They are added up at the end. Max score is a 40.

Item 1: Glibness and superficial charm = 2

You’re kidding me, right? Graves is the man of charm and glib. His good fuckin’ looks certainly help him out.

Image credit: @Vault21 on Tumblr

Remember Dark Water? Yeah…they trusted each other like brothers. Soap even hugged Graves! Graves had them  (and us) fooled because not much later he betrayed them like they were enemies.

Item 2: Grandiose sense of self-worth = 1

Graves is narcissistic. We can all agree on that, right? He thought he was too good for the Marines, that the Marines were not good enough for such a special person like himself. And I could be wrong here, but he is massively successful, likely a billionaire so doesn’t he get to be a little narcissistic?

Item 3: Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom = 2

Graves was so bored in the Marines, one of the toughest branches of the military, that he saw his uniform as a limitation and sought out to make his own company of mercenaries who don’t really answer to anyone. Also, how many CEOs do you see in the field like Graves is? Close to none. He lives for getting shot at and chased. He has a scar on his face to prove it!

Item 4: Pathological lying = 2

Is this even a question? Graves lied so well to 141 that they trusted him and saw him as a brother in arms. Also, remember the scene from Congress?

Image credit: BabyZone on YouTube.

Which leads me to…

Item 5: Conning/manipulative = 2

Phillip Graves is a conman. If you look up conman in the dictionary there’d be a picture of Graves or there should…it’d make the dictionary less boring. According to Google’s dictionary, the definition of conman is, “a man who cheats or tricks someone by gaining their trust and persuading them to believe something that is not true.” I can think of a few examples. Again, Dark Water

Image credit: Wallpaper Cave

Also, the Congress scene where he lies (about WAR CRIMES) like he’s talking about the weather.

And when he pulled the rug out from under 141 in Las Almas.

Which in turn takes us to…

Item 6: Lack of remorse/guilt = 2

Graves betrayed 141, the men he had fought next to, defended, befriended all while gaining their trust.

All while smiling about it!

Image credit: halgalvv on TikTok

Look!

Image credit: Call of Duty Wiki

Which also reminds me of the war crimes Graves committed in Las Almas. Some argue that Graves cleaned house by killing off people who were supporting the cartels but based on what I’ve been told there were children in this town as well.

This also brings me to the topic of Graves’s Shadows. These men are okay with war crimes. Shadows are okay with killing people just because Graves said to. In one (or more?) of my fics I portray Shadows as I see them: callous and even sadistic with how they agree to torture a prisoner of war (POW), going so far as using rape as a weapon if Graves gives the word.

Are there some Shadows who can’t engage in this kind of behavior? Perhaps. So Graves knows which men to pick to carry out war crimes. At least that’s how I see it.

Psychopaths have physical differences in the make up of their brain that make them UNABLE to feel guilty, remorse, or fear. So when I hear people asking how serial killers and other criminals deal with their guilt, I say they do not because it doesn't exist to them. They have no idea what guilt is.

Remember: It’s not that psychopaths choose not to feel/ignore guilt. It’s that their brain is completely INCAPABLE of this emotion.

You might be asking why/how: Psychopaths think the same thing about you…how can you feel guilt? Why would you want to?

Item 7: Shallow affect = 1

Only because we are unable to see how Graves functions emotionally away from the battlefield. My forensic psychology professor said that psychopaths have 2 emotions: rage and joy. Have you seen Graves portray anything else, really? In another fic, Graves supposedly says he loves OC. Like he even knows what that means. He doesn’t. He loves controlling her and abusing her, yes.

If Graves had a kid like he does in the same fic, he doesn’t feel much affection towards him. He just likely sees him as an extension of his partner. A future soldier, someone Graves can start training from young. Something he can use to control and keep his partner in line.  That child, from the moment he was born is seen as an asset by Graves. Plus, there are some good chances that kiddo might have inherited Graves’s genes that pass on his psychopathy. And even if that child does not, there’s a good chance he could develop as a sociopath because he’s not likely to see much more other than Graves continuing to abuse and control his partner and battlefield conditions.

Item 8: Callousness/lack of empathy = 2

This relates to a lack of remorse. You might ask how can Graves not feel empathy for how 141 must feel after he betrayed them? Because, like the shallow emotions and lack of remorse, Graves’s brain cannot do it. He doesn’t have the neurons for it. He doesn’t have the brain structure for it. It’s not that Graves chooses not to feel or ignore empathy. He CANNOT. It’s almost like asking someone with very low math ability to do a PhD in physics. It’s not that they’re lazy. They do not have the aptitude for it.

Graves does not have the aptitude for remorse or empathy because he doesn’t have the brain structure that makes that happen.

He think's it's funny.

Image credit: Einstein Ibraheem on YouTube

Item 9: Parasitic lifestyle = 0

Finally, one that does NOT apply to Graves. This man refuses to depend on anyone. He’s a fucking billionare that can get whatever the hell he wants whenever he wants it.

Item 10: Poor behavioral controls = 0

Hear me out! Graves is not impulsive. Lots of psychopaths are due to limitations in a part of the brain called the prefrontal cortex as well as other parts to include the limbic system. Graves is not limited in that manner. He plans, he’s meticulous, he’s detailed, and he gets away with a lot of shit because of it. Graves is not impulsive. Get him mad and he might smack the shit out of you (more than once if you make him mad enough) but when it comes to important decisions, he takes his painstaking time.

So fear we are up to the score of 14! He has scored positive on 14/20 possible points.

More to come!

[auncyen]

8 and 10! For Isat ask thingy!!

8. post-game things I'd like to see lmfao I mainly just want to see the trip that the whole fandom thinks happened BUT a few minor h/cs--

post-game his memory improves. It'll never be great if you compared it to someone else but they're pretty happy with it. It's a combo of Isabeau and Odile trying to help him find ways to better remember things and the group remembering some things for him and kind of easing that mental load. (I remember reading something once about how like. in longtime couples each person kind of specializes in remembering different kinds of things and can prompt each other to remember things relevant to a subject/event by bringing up what they remember and with Siffrin we do see like. some pretty old memories ARE there, they just need to be prompted and then not eaten by the Universe.) ...Also less anxiety.

The world rediscovers astronomy as Bonnie's generation and younger don't associate the subject with the Island. (way way far out obviously.)

If Siffrin settles down with Isabeau, their part of the living arrangement probably gets very cluttered at times with them wanting to keep TONS of things as souvenirs and no longer being limited to what they can carry--which might also lead to frustration at times if Siffrin does end up forgetting where he got something from. Isabeau's probably surprised by this at first and it might even cause conflict if Isabeau tends more toward "things should be organized and in their place", but they could probably figure out some sort of solution. (Maybe they add lots of "pockets" to Siffrin's side--aka a big cubby hole organizer where they can keep all those things on display. Siffrin tries to sort through it when it needs dusting to make sure he still cares about something and that helps reduce "I've forgotten what this is but I have it so it must be important" frustration. Still happens sometimes though.)

10. headcanons about the world--

already gave some of this away in fic but Poteria emphasizes "beauty" pretty heavily. They praise Muses of science and art (and yes, it's definitely borrowing from Greek mythology). Given the science bit it's not always about visual/sensory beauty but there is like. a general sense that what is pleasing is good. (This can at times lead to some messiness in dealing with what isn't pleasing.) Also not all Poterians do this but it's openly acceptable in Poteria to also worship gods/faiths from other countries, since the Muses are seen as like. Praise-worthy for helping them find enjoyment in life, but not omnipotent or anything like that. They're credited with very specific things and that's it.

Countries having varying attitudes toward Sadnesses and the people they spawn from, some very accepting and tolerant or helpful (Vaugarde very much on this end of the spectrum) and others having negative attitudes that pressure people to attempt to hide having a Sadness, which...definitely tends to do more harm than good. (I'm not 100% sure I want to use that attitude for the Island but it is kind of tempting to wonder if the journal is supposed to be understood as a cautionary tale because the clone who perfectly understands the writer's pain turned out to be "the first Sadness" or whatever. Similarly Sadnesses being seen as some sort of twisted, selfish wish, trying to force your own pain on others. ...Again, not very helpful for someone who actually has a Sadness!)

Sadnesses could have originated after the loss of color. This is just springboarding off how negative thinking is usually more a hindrance than a help nowadays but might have been important for an ancestor surviving in the distant past. The loss of colors would have been a huge loss of information, and probably still is (think plants/animals that you recognize as poisonous to eat by color for one easy 'could get you killed' example). This probably caused a lot of upheaval when it happened and you had a better chance of surviving if you were prone to being cautious. Societies eventually adjusted as well as they could but 'no color for u' probably had a huge effect on people's psyches so yeah. just tempting to think Sadnesses might not have even been a thing before that.

[gui1lermodelacruz]

(Ι owe starters/replies, but since work and anxiety are not my friends right now, like this so I can send you memes? ramble in the tags)

[warlordfelwinter]

i think i'm deciding that rain was created before bhaal's death and is significantly older than he looks bc god blood + no mortal mother potentially at all means his lifespan is fucking calvin ball and he can be whatever i want

bhaal made a special little freak who was unrelated to his other children and their use for resurrecting him so that's why he wasn't killed during All That and why he's got the urge and a obsequious little wretch who follows him around

just imagining how long he spent skulking around becoming the worlds best murderer while the other bhaalspawn were tearing each others throats out just like

all the other bhaalspawn: *murdering each other*

rain:

[inniave]

after surgery i'm buying myself pentiment goddamnit

[todayisafridaynight]

So I was going to comment I don’t know your favorite Yakuza character then I remembered it was Jo and I have to ask what specifically about him makes him number one?

if you're referring to my baddie baddies tier list, then that wasn't a tier list of my favorite yakuza characters it was a tier list specifically of how hot i found each antagonist to be unless you're coming from my DB blog where i said he was one of my faves but this/that amirite

regardless tho i will talk about why i love jo cause he genuinely is one of my fave charas in general and the reason for that uhhhhh he's neat :) and hot.

But In All Seriousness i unno, it's hard for me to explain why i like characters sometimes. i'll try under the cut tho cause It Gets Long

for jo, a big part of it is how he is as a father- or trying to be a father anyway. he didn't think twice about giving aoki up as a baby- he didn't even really care if he died or not. it was only thanks to masumi that aoki got that chance at life, and if it weren't for the fact he accidentally walked by masumi and aoki that one day jo probably would've gone the rest of his life without having a second thought about it

but thats the thing: they did cross paths that day, and jo's forced to confront the fact his actions did have consequences. he was forced to grow up out of that mentality he had as a kid- that if you don't look at the problem, it'll go away. evidently, they didn't: his actions had consequences, consequences that affected not only his or ikumi's life, but aoki was ultimately going to be the one to shoulder the burden the most because they couldn't be bothered to just give him to someone and tried to leave him in a locker of all places. it's what heightens jo's quote to ichi about taking responsibility as a yakuza all the more impactful in retrospect as well, and it's details like that that make revisiting the game all the more fun

but back to jo, he fully realizes what he did was fucked up, and that there's no conceivable way he can ever make amends or right his wrongs. joining the yakuza would be the next best thing for his goals, not like he saw much of an honest future for himself anyway. at the very least, he can try to support his son anyway he can no matter the cost- or at least, anyway he can for the most part.

jo's inability to kill masumi despite it being a direct order from aoki himself is also such a telling part of his character that makes me weep a little. he entered the yakuza with sole intentions of looking after aoki and taking care of him, nothing more or nothing less. ergo, it would be up to masumi to decide how much jo gets to be involved in his son's life

but that's the thing right: masumi would be the one primarily taking care of aoki. we know masumi tries to keep in touch with aoki via the beginning of the game where he laments his calls don't get returned, and masumi seemed to spend whatever time he could with aoki growing up based off of ichi's brief flashback.

being a yakuza boss be damned, jo got to see first hand how much masumi loved his son despite his circumstances that would've made a lesser parent quit or despise him- that despite his status as a yakuza boss, he would be there and be an active presence in aoki's life enough to annoy him and think of him as nothing more than a helicopter parent. i'm willing to bet that despite jo trying to brush off the sentiment that masumi was anything more than a patriarch to him, he probably did harbor genuine respect dare i say adoration for him. how could he not? even if masumi didn't know aoki wasn't really his son, he took care of him as though he were, complications and all.

if we wanna stretch it, then based off the RGGO iteration of sawashiro, he got his tattoo in direct honor of arakawa: if we're to believe that bits of RGGO sawashiro made it to Y7 sawashiro, then it's fair to say sawashiro's dedication and respect to masumi were immense (though we can make the argument that Y7 sawashiro might not have the same tattoo, or that his tattoo now could be dedicated to taking care of aoki instead- BUT this is speculation at this point, its just something i think of and i figured i'd add it).

which what makes One Of My Favorite Yakuza Scenes all the more meaningful: the day masumi is found dead, that's when we get to see jo really lose it and gives us one of the bloodier moments in the franchise. us getting to see jo actually puncture someone's eye in really heightens his anger with the circumstances at hand- i concede that jo was genuinely frustrated with how the yakuza were being toyed with, but i also dont doubt for a second he was sincere when he told ishioda he wanted to maim whoever took out masumi ishioda was probably thanking the stars tendo was the one to do him in amirite LMAOO. whether it's because of yakuza honor or having lost someone he cared about, jo's dedication is palpable and frightening when it's allowed to flourish

its weird to say tho someone said it a long time ago on one of my tags, but jo's sentimental for a yakuza, even if he wants to be a hard ass about it. he's made his life's purpose trying to right a wrong that can never be fixed (hell, his manner of fighting can be translated as "shame style" reaffirming that despite the years gone by and aoki's actions and disregard for him, he can't quell his guilt. never mind he was ready to take off ichi's finger based on the assumption he took aoki's money from him with his permission), and along the way i'm Hopeful in saying he found SOMEWHAT of a confidant in masumi to make his burden a bit lighter.

jo's by no means a good guy- not even by a long shot. he IS however an incredibly compelling character, and i'm glad that we get to see him somewhat again in LaD8 for however long they'll keep him around in that.

also his theme fucks 11/10 brutality's a fucking banger

[weareuniqueandimportant]

I AM UPSET... MAKE US TRANSITION... BTW THE AMAZING SPIDER MAN 2 IS THE BEST SPIDERMAN MOVIE THAT ISN'T MILES MORALES I LIKE EVERYTHING COMPARED TO THE OTHER JUNK THERE IS... BESIDES... THEY HAVE GWEN STACY... BUT ALSO... ELECTRO IS OMG... I REMEMBER HIM... HARRY AND HIS RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN ELECTRO AND PETER ARE BADASS... GWEN GWEN GWEN GWEN... I LOVE HER... HOW COULD THEY KILL HER... THIS SPIDERMAN IS A PATHETIC FAILURE ASWELL BECAUSE EVERYTHING IS HIS FAULT... ALL 3 SUFFERED BECAUSE OF HIM... MCU TRIED TO RUIN THIS MOVIE BUT THEY'RE APART ENOUGH NOTHING CAN BE HARMED...

[blossom-in]

being jjk fan may be pain but being black butler fan is the real suffering

i just read chapter 196 to 205 and what do u mean i have to wait at least 2 weeks for the next chapter this is so unfair

[saistappen]

Special guest | MV1

In which Max pays a visit to a primary school class to answer a few questions before the Dutch gp

or

In which Max only has eyes for the young class teacher

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Today is a very special day. Your six-year-old pupils were particularly looking forward to this day.

The Zandvoort Grand Prix, which was not too far from the school, would take place at the weekend.

In a few minutes, a very special guest would be coming to your class - the lion class.

Over the last few days, you and your class have organised and prepared a lot to make your guest's time in class as pleasant as possible.

A satisfied smile sits firmly on your face as you walk through the rows of tables and put up the children's name tags you have made so that your guest can call them by name.

You then unfold the blackboard to reveal the colourfully painted greeting.

Written in orange chalk in the centre is the words Welcome Max Verstappen.

Your pupils have painted a few trophies around it, as well as chequered flags and racing cars.

A glance at the clock hanging above the classroom door tells you that it is about time for the first pupils to arrive.

Shortly afterwards, the first pupils enter your classroom with big smiles on their faces. Some of the children are already wearing fan merchandise.

After you have greeted each child with a quick hug, the rows of tables slowly start to fill up and an excited murmur goes round the room.

"Good morning my lions", you greet your class with a smile on your lips and a little chant of welcome comes back.

"As you know, we have a visitor coming in a few minutes. But before we get there, I'd like to go through a few things with you about how we're going to behave during this," you begin as you sit down on the edge of your desk and look around the room.

Yesterday you went through the rules for today with your protégés. It is important to you that everything runs smoothly and well today.

It's not a given that someone famous would take the time to answer questions in a class full of six-year-olds.

" Who can tell me the most important things to consider for today? "

Within a few seconds, countless hands shoot into the air.

Your gaze wanders briefly through the rows before you take a boy from your class, who lists all the rules to be observed for the next two lessons.

With a satisfied smile on your lips, you thank the boy and add a sentence or two, telling your charges that it's important that they don't talk out of turn and to please come forward if they want to ask Mr Verstappen a question.

You know that the class is pretty excited and probably not everything will go one hundred per cent, but despite all that, you're really confident that it will go well.

Some time passes, during which your class spends painting Max Boliden in bright colours, until there is a knock at the door of your classroom.

Countless heads go up and look over to the door with wide eyes, while one or two squeak out.

You can clearly see the nervousness slowly rising in each of them, even in you.

You wipe your slightly sweaty hands on your black jeans before a smile creeps back onto your lips and a "Come in" leaves your lips.

Shortly afterwards, the door opens and a smiling Max Verstappen steps into your classroom.

As he does every time there's a race weekend, he's wearing one of his team shirts and dark trousers.

"Good morning! "He beams as he enters the classroom and lets his gaze wander round the room.

"Good morning Mr Verstappen! "The class literally shouts in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips.

Point one has already been successful.

"Welcome to the lion class. I am Mrs y/l/n. I'm really pleased to welcome you here today," you greet the Dutchman and hold out your hand to him, which he shakes with a smile.

" I'm delighted to be here today. "

You notice how his eyes linger on you a little longer, so you clear your throat quietly and look back at your protégés, who are scrutinising Max curiously and whispering quietly.

"Look what we've painted for you! " shouts Leona, one of your students, pointing to the blackboard and presenting the colourful picture to Max.

"You drew this especially for me? That's really great! " Max steps a little closer to the board to take a closer look at the artwork.

"And we drew cars too! " shouts the next child and gets Max's attention.

"Did you design new liveries for special Grand Prix races? " Max begins to walk through the rows to take a closer look at the coloured-in cars.

He repeatedly takes time for each of the children to exchange a few sentences with them about their coloured pictures.

Smiling, you watch him and sit back on the edge of your desk.

A glance at the map next to you shows that Max will start by introducing himself and talking about his motorsport career. Afterwards, the children will ask a few questions and get autographs. Finally, there will be a little bobby car race in the schoolyard, where each child will compete against Max himself.

"You're all really great artists. I'll show my team your paintwork and I'm sure something can be done! " Max grins as he walks back to the blackboard with the pile of leaves.

Enthusiastic murmurs go through the class as Max begins to prepare for his little talk.

And shortly afterwards, he begins to tell your class, who are literally glued to his lips, about his motorsport career.

During Max's lecture, you sat in the back row to give Max enough space at the front of the blackboard.

His lecture was quite interesting, so now you know a lot more about the Dutchman.

The children had been so quiet throughout the lecture that you are really proud and shower the children with a little praise.

"And now we come to your questions. Now you can ask me anything you've always wanted to know. But think about your question carefully, because everyone is only allowed to ask me one. "

Max holds up his index finger to make it clear to the children that they are really only allowed to ask one question.

"Just one? How am I supposed to decide which question to ask? " Liana's sad voice sounded from the front, causing Max to start smiling.

" You'll manage that, Liana. Take some time to think of a good question," you reassure the little blonde-haired girl, whereupon Max gives you a grateful look.

" Who wants to start asking me a question? " As Max's gaze begins to wander around the class, countless little fingers are raised in the air.

One or two of them even start to kneel on the chair so that they can stick their finger higher in the air and be seen better by Max.

" Finn ", Max takes the first boy.

" Would you like to drive for Red Bull forever or for Mercedes or Ferrari? "

The Red Bull driver leans against your desk and rests his hands slightly to the right and left of him as he begins to think for a moment.

Your protégés look eagerly at their star and wait for an answer.

"I actually feel incredibly comfortable in my team and so far there's no reason for me to leave. I get on well with everyone in the team and we have a good working relationship so that everything runs as smoothly as it should. I'll never rule out a change, because you never know what's to come, but so far I can reassure you and tell you that I'm not considering a change. "

A sigh of relief goes through the class, which makes you grin.

In fact, most of your class are Max and Red Bull fans.

" Who is your favourite team colleague? " Joleen asks Max after he has taken her on.

"So far I've got on really well with all my team mates and we've all got on really well, but if I had to choose a team mate who I've got on best with, I'd say Daniel. The two of us not only get on particularly well in Formula 1, but also in our private lives. "

In fact, you've already guessed this answer, as you could always clearly see how well Max and Daniel got on and harmonised with each other.

You still mourn the time when Max and Daniel were team-mates. That time really was by far one of the funniest content times at Red Bull Racing.

A few more interesting questions were asked, which Max answered in detail, such as his favourite colour, which is blue, his favourite food, which was tomato soup and the question about his pets, Jimmy and Sassy two Bengals cats.

"Is there anyone else who hasn't asked me a question yet? " Max's gaze travelled around the class.

Even after answering countless questions, he still seemed pretty relaxed and happy.

"Mrs y/l/n hasn't asked a question yet," Johann takes the floor as all the children turn to look at you.

Max also leans a little more on the desk now as he leans forward to see you in the back row.

" Do you have a question for me? " he grins.

So you start going through all the possible questions that are floating around in your head.

There are a lot of things that would interest you, but they don't belong here right now, so you decide on the simplest question that any teacher would have asked.

" What was your favourite subject at school? "

" Oh, that's really easy! " Max grins and almost claps his hands. " Your teacher will probably rip my head off for this, but I never liked going to school. The only subject I liked was geography. What's your favourite subject? "

Countless voices start shouting their favourite subjects in confusion, which Max takes in his stride with a smile and somehow tries to catch every subject.

To restore some calm, you walk back to the front and start clapping a rhythm, which the children immediately follow and the class becomes quiet again.

A quiet " Wow " leaves Max's lips, who looks at you with fascination and makes the blush rise slightly in your cheeks.

"That's the best way to keep things quiet," you almost babble as you start to clear your desk to give Max a little more space for the upcoming autographs.

You had already cleared out your desk, so there were hardly any things on it. However, you now have to keep your hands busy to avoid blushing even more or doing something stupid.

" Please line up to get an autograph. If you have an autograph, please go and put on your jacket so that we can go out into the school playground straight away. Please keep your voices down," you remind the children, who shortly afterwards line up in front of your desk waiting to sign an autograph.

You take the seat next to the door to keep an eye on the children who are putting on their jackets.

The autograph session goes faster than expected, so that within twenty minutes all the children are standing in the corridor whispering in their jackets and then follow Max and you out into the schoolyard in a duck march.

Yesterday afternoon you had already set up a small parkour, which you will have to drive through today with the two Bobby Cars.

The red and blue Bobby Car are already ready and waiting to be used.

You had even made a small podium out of cardboard boxes and bought small mini trophies to give your offspring the full programme of a racing experience.

While the children would race against Max, you would time them and the three fastest times would end up on the podium.

Max grabs the blue Bobby Car, which just fits half his knee, while Aaron can sit perfectly on the red Bobby Car.

While the two race against each other, the children cheer on Max and Aaron in different groups.

The latter narrowly wins, as Max has a few problems with the only Bobby Car.

Despite all this, the Dutchman doesn't lose the fun of the game, so he competes against every single child with joy and fun, even if it's not enough for one of the three podium places in the end.

Standing proudly on the podium with their trophies, the three winners literally raise their plastic trophies in the air until a couple of water pistols are used to replace the champagne shower and all the children run across the schoolyard screaming and chasing each other.

Smiling, you look after your class as Max stands next to you.

"That was a really nice day. Thank you for preparing so many nice things. I really don't know the last time I really enjoyed a day like this," said Max, smiling and thanking you.

"I also have to thank you. You really put a lot of effort into my class. You were really looking forward to the day, which was a real success. "

You can't stop a smile from forming on your lips as Max gives you a smile and then pulls something out of his trouser pocket.

" I forgot to give you your autograph. "

The Dutchman smiles and hands you the autograph card before also grabbing a water pistol and running over to your class.

Confused, you lower your eyes to the autograph card, which shows a grinning Max in his dark racing suit.

You really have a great class.

Your lions are really lucky to have such a great teacher like you.

You've learnt a lot about me today and I hope I get the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

Why don't you write to me

01*******

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[ginevrapng]

I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?

If not, I completely understand! <3

i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3

there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.

you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.

he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.

james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.

remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.

sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.

you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.

"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.

this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.

they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.

"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.

you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"

"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.

you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.

fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.

[bedoballoons]

Yandere Tighnari, Venti, lyney, Freminet and Aether finding out Reader isn't really into short guys They're into someone bigger and taller {{Itto For Aether, Alhaitham for Tighnari, Nevillete for both Lyney and Freminet and Zhongli for Venti}}

I READ THIS AND WAS LIKE YESSSSSS!!! (As a short person I find this hilarious and your idea is literally genius!) I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Just not that into short bois~༺}

CW: Yandere themes!, characters are obsessive to the point of wanting to harm others so they can't take you, unrequited love, intense jealousy, mild angst! Lyney makes Neuvillette disappear! Also this is much longer than I meant it to be...what can I say, I like yanderes!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Venti, Freminet, and Aether!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney had been told no many times in his life,in fact he couldn't even count how many people said he could never be a famous magician...and yet he'd proved every single one of them wrong. He simply couldn't stand not working towards something everyone else claimed was impossible, because in his eyes anything was possible, so when you confided in him about your feelings towards Neuvillette and stated that you found him more charming because of his height, even going so far as to mention you didn't really like short men as much...he just couldn't give up so easily.

He was madly in love with you, to the point it had become more than obsession, he'd seek you out anytime he'd left his home and any show he'd make sure to wink at you the moment his eyes met yours, he was so head over heels for you that he was physically unable to think about anyone or anything else. This also meant he wouldn't let anyone take you...especially just because they were taller...absolutely not.

So for his next show he planned something extra special, a magic trick truly wonderful in everyway...and as the crowd cheered, watching in awe when the box that had contained the chief of justice disappeared before their very eyes...none of them were aware he wouldn't show back up again...at least not for along while. Not until Lyney had found a way to make you love him, not until you...the most precious beautiful thing in all the world...was his.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari stood next to you, his ears drooping with regret as he watched you flirt away with Alhaitham, his tall muscular figure drawing you to him like a moth to a flame...making you completely forget about the one who'd brought you together in the first place. It was like some cruel trick of fate...especially considering Tighnari had planned to confess his feelings for you that same day...and now it seemed like it would do no good..

He tapped your shoulder, not waiting for your response as he intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you away from Alhaitham as quickly as possible...and silently hoping you'd leave the whole situation at that. You on the other hand were not so happy with him, wanting desperately to continue your conversation with the handsome scribe..., "Tighnari what was that about? I was really getting along with-" He put a gloved finger to your lips, making you go quiet, his heart racing as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I love you...so much. I can't even really wrap my head around my feelings because they are so intense...it's like I need you just to keep going...like you're the thing I simply cannot live without. Even the air I breathe isn't as important as you are...." His confession was a bit much to say the least and adding to it was the kiss he placed on your forehead, causing you to jerk away from him.

"I'm sorry...but I don't feel that way for you..." Your words spilled out before you could stop them, your heart racing with fear at the change in his mannerisms...he didn't even respond...he just stood there...like he was plotting something and you...were about to find out just how crazy his love for you actually was.

𑁍༄Venti:

"I actually do have feelings for someone."

The second those words left your lips Ventis heart began to race, his mind clouded over with thoughts of you confessing to him and telling him you loved him...it was all he wanted. No, it was all he needed! He tried his best to calm himself down, taking a sip of wine before responding like someone who was completely clueless of the others feelings would, "Oh ho ho and who would that lucky person be hmm?"

A blush coated your cheeks followed by a sweet flustered smile that could make even Lord Barbatos swoon and boy was he...until you answered, "I like Mr. Zhongli~" You giggled nervously, not noticing how pale Venti went the second he heard the name...how the part of the wine bottle he'd been holding had shattered, much like his heart...you didn't even notice the hurt tone of his voice when he asked, "What does that old blockhead have that I don't?"

The question definitely took you by surprise, but you assumed he wasn't being serious and decided to answer truthfully, "Well he's a bit more refined...and I like his voice, but most of all he's so tall! I'm sorry Venti but I just can't imagine myself with someone...so tiny." The anemo archon was speechless...hatred seeping into his very being and jealousy getting the better of him. He stood up without another word and left, leaving you wondering what had happened...

𑁍༄Freminet:

Freminet was completely silent, his face bright red and burning with a rage he'd never felt before, his hands barely able to keep steady as jealousy ate away at his once calm heart heart. All he wanted was you...your love, that sweet smile that he craved to see everyday, but here you were, sitting Infront of him with this doe eyed look on your face as you fawned all over none other than the chief of justice. Mentioning more than once how tall and handsome he was, how incredible it would to have a man like him around.

"Enough."

You paused mid sentence, caught off guard by the amount of malice in his once kind sweet voice, watching as he stood up from his seat, your mouth slightly agape. You'd never seen him like this before...so angry and confident, it was scary...yet also a little exciting. After a moment of silence you'd worked up the courage to say something...but you didn't even manage to get a single word out as he grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you harshly towards him, making you let out nothing more than a sharp gasp.

Your face went red, pure shock displaying itself on your features as he leaned in closer, his light purple eyes seemingly staring into your soul as his whispers grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "Hush now my love...you don't need him...I promise~"

𑁍༄Aether:

Aether was always there to help someone, so reliable in fact, that everyone called on him whenever there was a issue and including you, after all he'd saved you from many close calls...even saving your life a few times in the process and for that you were incredibly grateful, but alas you were still not in love with him. He on the other hand couldn't get enough of you, he just wanted to be near you all the time...be your hero and love you like nobody else ever could.

He...however wasn't the only person who could save someone and when the friendly neighborhood oni stepped in to save you, Aether was anything but pleased... especially when he saw the difference in how you acted. Yes your gratitude was the same...but you'd gotten all flustered at the onis impressive figure, touching the large man's chest while your face heated with such a strong blush and everyone around you cheered him on.

Aether was more than a little upset, suddenly understanding that he clearly wasn't your type and that he probably would never be, he just couldn't stand it! How could you, the person he'd do absolutely anything for...be so enraptured by someone else...just because they were bigger than him. No, he wouldn't let it stand, he'd fight for you, even if it meant doing things he could regret later on...it didn't matter, not anymore. You were all he cared about...all that mattered.

Just. You.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[eternalxvenus]

↳˗ˏˋtoji's special workoutˊˎ˗ ↴

summary: You were late to meet your personal trainer Toji at the gym. Luckily he let you stay after hours, but he was going to make sure you got a proper workout before leaving.

cw: smut 18+, personal trainer!toji x f!reader, pet names (doll, slut), p in v, Toji is a little mean/rough in this ngl, deepthroating, handjob, unprotected sex, light nipple play, slight orgasm control, degradation, fingering, squirting

wc: 2k

notes: i really hope you guys enjoy this fic! i'm actually kind of proud of it lmao. once again sorry it took so long but feel free to send in asks/requests!

You were driving in your car, contemplating going faster than the speed limit, when you saw that the time read 8:34 pm. You were supposed to meet Toji, your personal trainer at eight o'clock, but you were running behind. You knew he would be irritated since you already pushed your regular workout time from six to eight, and now you were late when the gym closed at nine. 

You pulled into the parking lot, and thankfully, the lights inside the gym were still on. You breathed a sigh of relief, grabbing your gym bag and jogging inside. 

Placing your bag by the lockers, you walked over to Toji, who was lifting weights in front of the mirror. “You’re late. Luckily, I'm friends with the owner. He's gonna let us stay late s'long as I lock up tonight,” he said, his voice slightly strained from lifting the weights. 

"I know, I know, and thank you. My meeting went on longer than it was supposed to and then there was the traffic-"

"Start stretching," he says with a grunt. He sets down the weights and looks over at you. "You're gonna be doin' legs tonight."

You nod and do your usual stretches for your leg days. As you were doing squats, you glanced at Toji through the mirror, and it seemed like he was looking at your ass. You brushed it off as him just watching your form and continued.

You finished your stretches and headed from the stretching area over to the leg press machine with Toji. You got in position as he placed the weights on. "I want ya to do 5 sets, 15 reps each." Your eyes widened. "Last time I only did 3 sets with 12 reps!"

Toji snickered, a smug look on his face. "You're supposed to be getting better and stronger, not staying the same. Plus, you wasted my time being late." You scoffed, "I apologized, and it wasn't even my fault." He rolls his eyes. "Don't care. Just get it done."

~

You finally finished all your workouts (they were excruciating, and you will definitely feel it tomorrow) so you headed off to the showers while Toji cleaned up. You realized after showering that you had left your bag out by the lockers. You called out from the shower room door, "Toji! Could you bring my gym bag?" You didn't hear a response but sat on the bench and waited.

A few minutes later, you heard Toji's voice. "Alright, I'm comin' in." He walked into the shower room, your gym bag in hand. "Here ya go." 

You thanked him and took the bag. You both stood there for a moment in silence, and he didn't make a move to leave. He stood there and took in your damp body from head to toe, and you held the towel a little closer to your body. Toji's tongue peeked out and swiped across the scar on his lip.

He took a step closer before speaking, his voice lower than usual. "Y'know, I don't think I worked ya out hard enough." Your breath hitched as your heartbeat sped up, hammering inside your chest so hard you thought it burst out.

Of course, you knew Toji was attractive. He had a perfect build, his abs, pecs, and biceps constantly straining against his compression shirts. And when he was shirtless, he looked absolutely jaw-dropping. Other women in the gym would ogle and stare, he was a wet dream come to life. He also oozed sex appeal. Whether it was intentional or not, you had no clue. The deep smoothness of his voice and the harsh encouragement given during training caused wetness to pool in your underwear more times than you would like to admit.

The thing is, not only is he a few years older than you, but he has a kid (which you found out after getting a text saying he had to cancel because his son was sick.) This made you assume he was married but didn't wear his ring to the gym. He was also your trainer, so there was the professionalism of it all.

Toji took your chin between his fingers, his thumb lightly brushing your bottom lip. "What do ya say, Doll? Think I should work you out a little more?" He spoke again with a smirk on his face. 

Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips, the scar more noticeable up close. You figured this would be a one-time, heat-of-the-moment thing. Why the hell not. “That's what I pay you for, isn't it?”

The moment you said those words, his mouth was on yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue massaged yours in a way that made you melt. Both of your bodies were pressed up against one another. You could feel the growing bulge in his sweats pressing against you.

“Get on your knees. Let's start by trainin' that throat of yours...” You immediately obeyed, watching impatiently as he removed his sweats and boxers. His cock sprung up right in front of your face, and you realized he was big. Not wasting any more time, your fingers reached his base as your tongue licked his slit, tasting pre-cum as you sucked the tip. Toji hissed at the feeling and bucked his hips towards your touch. When you took him into your mouth, he groaned, placing a hand on the back of your head. You felt unbelievable. His taste makes you even wetter than you were before. “Let's see how much you can take Doll.” He pushed your head further down his length, making you gag as his tip hit the back of your throat, but the noise made Toji groan. 

Your nose was pressed against his pelvis and you reached your hand up to tease his balls. "F-Fuck! You tryna make me cum?" he said looking down.

You nodded making a muffled sound of 'mhm' as your eyes started to water. Toji pulled you off his cock and a string of saliva and pre-cum dribbled down your chin. 

"Such a pathetic slut. Taking my cock down your throat and playin' with my balls like that. You just can’t fuckin’ help yourself, can you?” He moaned as his hardness twitched right in front of your face. “That desperate for my cock, huh?”

You moan as you clenched around nothing. Your voice was breathy and slightly hoarse when you spoke. "Love having you in my mouth Toji." Your hand starts to pump his length while the other cups his balls, fondling them as he bites down on his lip. His head is thrown back, half-lidded eyes fluttering as he rolls his hips along to your touch. 

After a few minutes of you stroking him, Toji pulled you off the floor and laid you on the nearby bench. Your towel had come off, and he finally had an unobstructed view of your body. His hands came up to play with your now stiff nipples. "You're so fucking sexy, Doll. I can't tell you how many times I got hard just watching you work out. These perfect tits bouncing and that sexy ass."

"So you were looking at my ass earlier." you giggled. You noticed Toji's staring at times, but always thought it was a professional gaze, not a lustful one.

"How could I not. Those shorts make it hard to be professional. Now it's time for stretching. Gotta make sure I don't break you."

Suddenly your legs were spread apart, and Toji was working two of his long fingers into you while his thumb focused on your clit. Your breath hitched, and you clenched around him immediately. "Oh- shit! Please make me feel good Toji. I wanna cum, please."

Toji scoffed. "Already begging to cum? How desperate are you, huh? You're not cummin' anywhere except on my fuckin' cock. Got that?"

You nod, unable to focus on speaking while his fingers piston in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal.

"Use your words slut."

"I won't cum anywhere except on your cock. I- fuck... I promise."

He gave a short hum of approval as he took his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth. "Such a sweet cunt. I'll have to taste you until you shakin' and cryin' another day."

Before you could even process his words, Toji removed his sweats and started rubbing his hard cock up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. In a swift movement, you felt your hole being stretched by his girth.

"Ah- holy... shit Toji!" You nearly screamed as you felt him bottom out inside you, his tip pressing against your G-spot. "You’re so fucking deep!"

Suddenly, Toji's hands were placed behind your knees, pushing them down towards the sides of your head. His pace was nothing short of ruthless. His heavy balls were slapping up against your ass with every harsh thrust. You didn't know if it was because you had just finished working out, but everything felt much more intense. You could hear the wet sounds coming from your pussy. One glance down, and you saw the white forming at the base of his dick.

"M'gonna fuck this tight pussy until I've ruined you for every other man. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Knowing I'm the only man who can make your pussy feel this good." You nodded mindlessly at his possessiveness. A light sheen of sweat covered both your bodies as he fucked you into oblivion. He released his grip on your legs and watched as your back arched into his touch. His hands moved to cup your breasts, pinching at your nipples. Toji then leaned in to place a painful kiss on your lips, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his tongue made its way into your mouth, causing you to moan sinfully.

The force of his thrusts caused a distant pain on your back from laying on the hard bench, but you didn't care. All you could think about was your orgasm that was quickly approaching.

"Damn it... your greedy cunt just keeps suckin' me in. Gonna get me fuckin’ addicted." Toji's thrusts became harder as he placed one of your legs on his shoulder.

"I'm close- so close Toji. Please can I- ah!" Loud whimpers and broken moans spilled from your mouth as Toji fucked you. You were so close.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Cum on my fuckin' cock then, slut." He brought his thumb down and worked fast circles on your clit. Your whole body tensed up as you screamed, eyes rolling back into your head, back arched off the bench. White hot pleasure shot through your entire body as you squirted all over Toji's thighs and abs. Your walls squeezed him, nearly suffocating his dick.

"Fuuuuck... that's it, good fucking girl. Cum all over my- god damn- cum all over my cock!"

You were finally coming down from your high when you felt Toji pull out. Your eyes were hazy and unfocused as you watched him stroke his cock, his eyes squeezed shut before spilling his cum all over your stomach with a groan. "Oh... fuck yes"

He took a moment to catch his breath before taking in the sight in front of him. "Look at that... all fucked out and covered in my cum like a true slut."

You smiled lazily as you sat up on the bench. "I'm only a slut for you."

He gave a low hum of approval before helping you stand up. "You bet your ass you are. Now how 'bout we go get cleaned up in the shower."

You gave a nod as you started towards the shower on shaky legs. Once you were both inside with the water on, you turned to him and saw his dick hard once again and realized you weren't going to get cleaned up just yet. You knew you'd definitely be sore for the next few days and that you'd have to do more late-night workouts with Toji in the future.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

©ETERNALXVENUS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, REPOST, OR CLAIM MY WORK AS YOUR OWN.