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enkas-illusion · 1 year ago

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One of Your Guys

One of Your Guys - Part 3/3

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, smut, language, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, lots of teasing.

Chapter Summary: You realise the difference between a stupid crush and actually developing real feelings for someone.

Song Dedication: Sweat by ZAYN / In Too Deep (feat. Kiana Ledé) by Jacob Collier

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“My god! Again?” Mia sighs as she stares at you in disbelief.

You’d paused the movie you’d been watching to take a picture of the dialogue displayed on screen. You’re sending it to Choso – because you know that he will find it interesting. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, hence the complaint from Mia.

Ever since the birthday weekend about a month ago, you’ve grown impossibly closer to Choso. You hadn’t planned this at all and initially tried your best to resist the feeling but you weren’t oblivious to the way your heart would flutter each time you thought of him.

You compare it to the changing of the season – you can’t stop the snow from falling just because you dread the cold weather. Similarly, you can’t ignore your obviously blooming feelings just because you’re scared of fucking it up again.

You’re smiling at your phone, even as you wait for his text. Nowadays, you have to physically force yourself to stop smiling too much. You fear that one of these days a stranger’s going to deem you crazy for smiling at your phone constantly.

“As cute as this is, I will disown you if you don’t do something soon. When are you planning to confess to him? Please put an end to my misery!” Mia groans. She’d been a close observer from the sidelines, watching you fall deeper and deeper for Choso.

Each time you recall her question about how to know for certain that you like someone, your mind brings memories of Choso to the surface as evidence of the same.

You’ve been hanging out with Choso after work sometimes on weekdays as well. It’s been almost impossible for you to stay apart. From the moment you wake up, you wish to talk to him to begin your mornings and miss him dearly on days you don’t get to meet him due to your different work schedules.

You had always paid close attention to his words whenever he spoke, but lately you find yourself wanting to take in every single detail about him with exact precision. You’ve memorised all his little habits and endearing idiosyncrasies like a photograph in your mind.

This, you conclude, is the difference between falling in love with the idea of love and falling for a real person.

However, feeling the feels and actually acting on them are two completely different things. Each time Mia tells you to have the talk with Choso, you brush it off saying you’re waiting for the right moment. You both know that's just a lame excuse. The truth is that this time, you really are scared shitless of getting rejected by someone you genuinely like.

—

Although you like your work, you’ve officially become one of those people who eagerly look forward to weekends – however, your reason for such a desperate anticipation is different from theirs. Your desire stems from your longing to be with Choso the entire time.

You’re currently grocery shopping with him, thanks to Mia’s orders – the cupid had sent you both to get a list of things for tomorrow’s brunch with the group. You’re arguing about the different brands of semolina flour to make the perfect pasta when you hear a voice call his name.

“Choso?” you both turn to look at the source of the voice and it’s a pretty brunette girl smiling at him. She walks to him and it looks like she’s about to lean in for a hug but decides against it. Choso smiles at her briefly.

“Hey, how you been?” He greets her.

“Choso… I thought you’d call! I’ve missed you.” she pouts as she bats her eyes at him.

Usually, when you recognize game, you respect it. But looking at this chick, you feel a sudden rage to smack the flirting outta her. It’s annoying cause you’re aware you’d 100% pull the exact same shit in front of your crush. But the audacity this bitch has to flirt with your man (future tense) when you’re standing right next to him!

“Yeah… Sorry, I kinda got busy with stuff.” He lies. Although you know that he’s just being polite, you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy deep down. It doesn’t last long, however, as Choso pulls you to his side, introducing you to her.

She spares you half a smile when she introduces herself.

God, even her name is bitchy.

You extend your arm out to her and she shakes it. You know better than to poke the bear but you still act on your impulse, playing dumb when you ask her how she knows Choso.

“I’d love to tell you all about it but it’s hardly appropriate for supermarket talk.” she smirks at you. You simply give her a forced smile, refraining from saying something out of line.

“Well, we’re kind of in a rush so we better get going.” you excuse yourself as you put the bag of flour in your cart and pull it in the opposite direction.

You hear her utter a ‘call me’ before Choso bids her goodbye, and returns to your side with hurried strides.

“We have to find three more items on the list.” he says as he checks his phone.

“Mia can get those tomorrow morning.” you say as you make your way to the checkout counter.

“They might be here somewhere…” he says, confused. You ignore him as you keep on walking, too embarrassed about feeling this way.

He lets out a tiny gasp as he pulls at your bicep to stop you from walking, blocking your way with his body, “You’re jealous… Oh my god!” he chuckles, amusement laced in his voice, “This is so funny.”

You ignore him as you try to walk past him but his grip is firm on your bicep.

“What? No. Why on earth would I be jealous?” you lie, trying to maintain a poker face. He searches your eyes for something before deciding to drop the topic. He figures you’d keep on denying it anyway so he loosens his grip on your arm and you make your way to the billing counter.

When he drops you home, you hug him goodnight and tell him to leave before Mia has a chance to figure out that some of the items are missing. He laughs as he waves at you before driving away.

After you get back to your apartment, you don’t give Mia a chance to scold you as you promise her you’ll bring the remaining items first thing in the morning. So, you decide to go to bed early since you couldn’t afford to sleep in till late tomorrow.

—

You toss and turn in your bed for the umpteenth time. It’s almost 2am and you haven’t been able to sleep at all. You recall the encounter with Choso’s fling at the supermarket.

Let’s face it – it was pretty tame and yet it had you seething with jealousy like a teenager. This was just one incident, but how long will it take before someone braver than you makes her move and asks Choso out? It will be no one else’s fault but your own for having missed your shot.

At 2am, the realistic and rational decision would be to force yourself to go to bed and think about this topic in the morning with a fresh perspective. But right now, you have nothing on your mind but a sense of urgency to act before it’s too late.

Didn’t Ted Mosby say something about not following your heart after 2am?

Well… fuck Ted and fuck being rational.

You get up and hurry to your closet to quickly change into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You put on your shoes as you grab your phone and keys as you leave your house.

When you step down into the parking lot, you realise this is an utterly stupid decision. You’re paranoid – being a woman, alone at night, in a parking lot is far from a breezy walk in the park.

What could possibly go wrong?

Before your brain can create any more scary scenarios, you run to your car and get in to get out of there asap.

It’s a 10 minute drive to Choso’s apartment. When you reach there, you take the elevator to his floor.

You dial his number and press call. While the phone rings, you realise three things – you probably are going to seem insane but you don't care; it’s awfully cold and you should’ve worn something warmer; it is officially too late to chicken out now.

“Hello?” you hear his sleepy voice and your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest.

“Hi, could you please open the door to your apartment?” you say sheepishly. You’re about to repeat yourself when it almost seems like he didn’t hear you the first time, but you stay silent when you hear shuffling sounds on the other end.

He simply hums before cutting the call. In seconds, you hear the fidgeting sound of the lock. As the door begins to open, you consider running away and hiding somewhere.

So pathetic… this is totally not on brand for you.

When you take in his current state, you feel heat rise up to your cheeks and you can’t help but check him out. His hair is tied up messily and he’s only wearing sweatpants, while his upper body is bared in all its glory.

Although you feel bad for waking him up in the middle of the night, your heart melts at how handsome he looks and you grow weak in your knees. His voice pulls your thoughts out of the gutter.

“Is everything alright? What are you doing here at this hour? Did you drive alone?” He speaks softly, eyebrows knitted in concern and voice a bit gravelly from sleep.

You’re about to speak but stop like a deer caught in headlights when you hear a soft voice speak from inside. It’s hard to see who it is since the only source of light is coming from his room at the end of the hallway where the door had been left ajar.

“You’re still up?” the voice calls to him. He turns his head to reply and you lean slightly to the side out of curiosity.

When you spot the silhouette of a girl in the dim light, wearing only an oversized t-shirt that’s too big to be hers, your heart drops.

You simply stare at him while he replies to her, “Oh yeah, a friend’s here. Don’t worry, go to bed.”

You feel like you’re about to be sick… this isn’t what you thought was going to happen.

Did he really call her when he got back home?

When he turns back to look at you, he instantly recognizes your dreaded expressions. And in that moment, he’s glad your face is expressive to the point of betraying you – your eyes always expose all the thoughts you refuse to speak out loud.

He quickly speaks up, “That’s Sam’s girl… She’s staying the night with him.”

Sam… right, his flatmate.

Your face relaxes at the realisation. The hope returns to your eyes.

It's not too late! Now’s your one chance!!!

“So what brings you here at…”, he pulls his phone out, the brightness of his phone screen almost blinding, he shakes his head to look at the time, “... 2:34 in the morning?”

You shuffle a bit on your feet as you speak, “I- I wanted to tell you something and it almost felt like I couldn’t wait another moment to do so.”

“Oh…” he pauses a bit, “shit- sorry, please come in.” he invites you, moving to one side to let you in. He closes the door behind you as you take your shoes off. He takes your hand as you walk alongside him till you reach his bedroom.

When you enter his room, he leaves your hand and turns around to lock the door. You’re certain he hears the not-so-quiet yelp that you just let out when you saw his back. You slap your hand to your mouth as you cover it in shock and stare at the tattoo on his back.

From what you can see in the dim lighting of his room, it's a dragon and tiger in red and black ink and it’s huge. You vaguely recall him mentioning he had a tattoo once, but you never would’ve guessed it’d be one that covers almost his entire back.

New kink unlocked – Choso’s back tattoo.

“You have a tattoo…” it comes out as a statement rather than a question.

He chuckles at your surprise, “Yes, I am aware. Sitting in a chair with tiny needles making your back bleed for hours is kind of an unforgettable experience, I'd say.”

“It’s pretty…” your voice trails off as you watch him grab his t-shirt from the laundry basket next to the door and put it on in one swift motion. You sit on the edge of his bed as he leans against the closed door, folding his hands over his chest.

You fidget with your fingers nervously as you try to come up with the right words for your confession. “Sooo…” you drag on, your heartbeat picking up its pace, making you fully aware of how anxious you are. “Mia has been on my case about this for a while now…”

Nope. Weak start.

“Fuck.” You close your eyes to focus, taking a deep breath as you begin again, “Choso… I like you. I’d been putting this off since I figured I’d wait to find the right words to express how I feel. But I may never find the perfect words because with every moment we spend together, I find myself falling deeper for you.”

You continue as you open your eyes to look at him, feeling a bit braver now that the cat’s out of the bag, “I’m aware it seems like a cheap shot since it’s such a recent development. But my feelings for you are sincere. What I felt for Satoru was simply me romanticising a platonic friendship.”

You sigh and it’s so overwhelming that you feel like crying, “Maybe this sounds like I’m talking out of my ass but fuck…Choso I like you so much it hurts. I’ve never done this before because frankly I’ve never been in so deep with anyone before. I want to show you just how much you mean to me and my heart aches just thinking that maybe you don’t want me anymore since I was too dumb before to see what was right in front of me all along. I’m sorry for failing to see you… but I do now. And if you’ll still have me even after me acting like an oblivious fuck, I’m right here.”

You bend your head down to cover your face with your hands as you can feel the tears in your eyes. You want to redo the confession because no matter what you say, it feels far from enough. Your train of thought comes to a halt when you feel him grab your wrists.

He pulls your hands away from your face and you find him kneeling in front of you so that you're face to face.

“Aww… my poor baby,” he mocks you playfully, but he’s smiling so bright that he’s sure, at that moment, his eyes speak for him too. You use the back of one hand to wipe your tears while the other slaps Choso’s chest lightly.

He grabs both your wrists and holds them in the tiny space between you two. He brings one hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles and repeats the action on your other hand.

“I’ve liked you for a while now, I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to fade so easily.” he smiles at you.

“Please tell me you believe me when I say I like you more than I’m able to express with my words?” you say, wanting reassurance that he understands the truth behind your emotions.

“I do… I’ve been aware of it for the past few days now.” he confesses. You furrow your eyebrows out of confusion. He explains, “Remember how I always joke about you looking at Satoru with those eyes? Well, I kinda realised that lately you’d been looking at me that way instead.”

“Oh,” is all you say as you look down to bite your lip, embarrassed. Choso leans forward as his fingers tilt your chin up. On instinct, you look down at his lips before your eyes move up to observe the rest of his face.

“So… you still like me?” you almost whisper.

“I do.” he chuckles softly, “and it doesn't hurt anymore cause I know you reciprocate my feelings.”

“Hmm… I do.” You reply. There's silence, it's far from awkward but you decide to break it anyway.

You begin, trying to mimic a stern voice, “And by the power vested in me by God Almighty, I now pronounce you husban- AGH!”

Choso hooks his arm around your neck mid sentence pulling you towards him, causing you to kneel with a soft thud on the floor as his laughter fills the entire room. You hug him back as you laugh along, feeling a sense of accomplishment for having made him laugh so hard.

When the hearty laughter is reduced to softer giggles, you sit back up on the edge and rub the top of your knees as they hurt a bit from the slight impact. He mutters a quick ‘sorry’ as his hand replaces yours, massaging the area softly.

There’s an unspoken agreement when your eyes meet again. He wants you to make the first move this time. So you do just that.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you close the distance and kiss him gently. It doesn't take long for Choso to take charge and deepen the kiss as he cups your face in his hands and stands up, pulling you up with him without breaking contact.

When your lips part, breathing heavy, he takes a step back to pull off his t-shirt. You close the distance once again as your hands move up to his hair. You pull his hair tie out, letting it drop to the floor and lacing your fingers through his black locks to free them. Your eyes scan his face to take in how pretty he looks with his hair down.

He leans down within seconds to close the distance between you. His kisses get frantic and messy as he grabs your ass with one hand while the other snakes around your waist, caging you between his arms.

He moves away to hastily pull your hoodie over your head before throwing it to the side. He’s towering over you with your bodies flush against each other’s. You lean back till you’re falling on the bed behind you.

Choso sits up as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulls them off roughly. A shiver runs down your body when you see the way he’s looking at you. His chest heaves as his breathing gets heavy, his voice comes out as a stern command, “Strip for me, baby.”

He moves back to stand at the edge of the bed to observe your movements intently. You turn your back to him, sitting on your knees. Your hands move to your back to unclasp the hook of your bra and you throw it across the floor. You turn around to face him, your hands covering your chest.

You lean back, supporting yourself on your elbows with your palms still covering your nipples. He damn near loses his mind when he hears you purr, feigning innocence, “Sorry… my hands are full, do you mind?” as you part your legs.

He doesn’t waste any time as he leans down to grab both your ankles, yanking you as he pulls your body near the edge of the bed. You let out a tiny squeal as your hands move to the sheets as you steady yourself.

Hooking his fingers into the hem of your underwear, he takes it off slowly as his eyes scan your entire body to memorise the view into his mind forever. When he discards the piece of fabric behind him, he grabs your right foot. He brings his lips to the top of your foot, peppering wet kisses up your leg till his face is just inches away from your pussy, his eyes locked in your gaze the entire time.

You can feel his hot breath, closing your eyes as you wait for him to kiss you where you really crave the touch of his lips. However, you open your eyes again when you feel him move away. He’s repeating his movement on your other leg, kissing all over your leg to rile you up.

When he bites the skin near your left thigh, you groan as you grow impatient and hook your leg on his shoulder in an attempt to pull him down closer.

“Patience, love.” he teases you as he moves up to kiss your stomach instead.

“Choso please…” you plead as your shaky hands move up to his hair.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do baby… since we’re so big on communication.” he teases. You say his name again as if to scold him, but it comes out more like a desperate whimper.

He’s on his knees near the edge of the bed as he repositions your legs to place them on his shoulders. He’s so close that the lack of his touch is agonising. He only needs to lean down a few inches to end your misery, yet he holds back, enjoying the way your body is reacting to his teasing.

“Eat me out baby… plea-” your voice gets caught in your throat and instead turns into a soft wail when you finally feel his lips on your skin. His fingers intertwine with yours, locking them to your side to keep them from moving as his tongue parts your folds with a gentle pressure.

You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from moaning out loud. His movements alternate between licking up your entrance and sucking at your clit. You arch your back and whimper as his tongue dips into your hole.

He groans as his hands press yours deeper into the mattress to keep you from moving too much. You look down at him with knitted eyebrows and you feel as if you’re about to come just by the way his eyes look at your face.

“Taste so good baby…” he mumbles between kisses. When he notices you trying to restrain your moans, he lets go of one hand to slowly push two fingers inside you. He’s pleased when he’s able to elicit the desired reaction out of you as you moan his name, followed by a number of cusses while he pumps his fingers inside you at a steady pace.

He goes back to sucking your clit while fucking you with his fingers. The combination of the two is deadly as you feel yourself getting close to your release. Your free hand grabs at his hair as your whole body starts shaking.

“Fu- Choso, don’t stop… don’t stop, ahh–” your voice strains as your head dips back and you close your eyes. You start shaking uncontrollably and as if on cue, his other hand moves up to apply pressure over your lower abdomen. You moan his name out loud with ragged breaths as you reach your orgasm.

You try to push his head away, not being able to handle how sensitive your pussy feels. But Choso doesn’t relent as his tongue laps at your folds to lick you clean, causing tears to form in your eyes due to the overstimulation. He stops when he hears your voice break, still panting as you come down from your high, your body twitching under his hold.

He moves up, kissing your stomach, the flesh under your boobs, the valley of your chest and finally licking up your throat till he’s levelled with your face. He kisses the corners of both your eyes to erase the trail of tears that was left behind.

Your hands roam all over his back as you pull him down against you to kiss him on the lips one more time – he tastes of your cum with a slight hint of salty tears. Your legs wrap around his waist as you move a hand down to palm his erection.

He breathes out a quiet ‘fuck’ when your hand rubs him up and down from above his pants. You feel as if your brain is about to short circuit when you pull your lips away from his and briefly see a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

“Choso, please fuck me.” you beg softly. He nods before kissing your forehead softly as he says, “Your wish is my command, princess.”

He gets up quickly to pull his pants down along with his underwear together, freeing his cock from its restraints. He’s, what one would call, well-endowed… to say the least. You feel yourself getting wet at how thick and veiny his dick is. You move back up to the centre of the bed as he makes his way to the bedside drawer to grab a tiny silver pack.

When he climbs up on the bed, you reach your hand out to caress his thighs. He tears the pack open with his teeth before rolling on the condom in a well-practised motion. When his eyes meet yours, they soften as he smiles at you. You smile back at him before you bite your lip, feeling the butterflies in your stomach.

He moves to sit with his knees just below your hips and leans down to spit on your folds, moving his fingers to spread the spit around your hole. He lines himself up at your entrance, slapping his dick over your pussy a few times before coating it with your wetness.

He looks up at you, pausing his movement to speak, concern lacing his voice, “Let me know if it hurts, okay baby?”

You feel the blood rush to your head at his words and you nod frantically. He hooks your knees over his shoulders before slowly pushing his tip in. You let out a broken whimper at how good he already feels as chills run down your spine at the sensation.

He leans forward till his chest is flush against yours and he has you in a mating press. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pushes inside you slowly till he bottoms out. Your eyebrows knit as you try to keep your eyes open.

A low grunt escapes from his throat as he moans your name when your walls flutter around his dick. Choso wets his lips as he grabs a pillow from the side to place it under your lower back.

“You good?” he says, his voice strained.

“Never been better.” you breathe out, looking at him with lust-filled eyes that are pleading him to not tease you any further.

He supports his body weight with his left forearm rooted firmly in the space beside your head while his right hand comes up to your throat. His hold is firm as he tilts your head to the side with his thumb, dipping his face in the crook of your neck.

As he bites and sucks all over your neck, you feel your walls clench around him. He bites harder when he feels it, earning a moan from you in return. You plead, urging him to fuck you already.

“Not…” he whispers as his tongue flicks at one of your nipples, “...yet.” he repeats the movement on the other bud as well. Although everything he’s doing feels good, you grow desperate in the anticipation of feeling his dick fuck into you.

You wrap your hands around his wide shoulders as you speak, “Baby, please don’t make me beg so–.” Before you have a chance to finish your sentence, he pulls out to thrust deep in one quick motion.

You scream his name way too loudly and you’re pretty sure Sam and his girlfriend heard you. Even if they didn’t, it would be impossible to miss the sounds of his balls slapping against your skin as he starts ramming into you with a steady pace.

His movements are precise, pulling out till only his tip is inside you before slamming all the way in. You shut your eyes, feeling every thrust and your nails dig into his shoulders when it gets too much to handle.

Your right leg slides off his shoulder slightly and you press it against his bicep, you can feel the sticky sweat on both of your skins as you keep on whispering lewd praises at him.

“You fuck… so good.” you moan breathlessly as his movements get sloppy. “Don't st- mhm- make me yours.”

“I’m gonna cum… fuck.. if you keep talking like that, love.” he groans, picking up his pace as the hand he had on your throat moves down to stimulate your clit. You’re kissing his shoulder when he does that and it causes you to bite into his skin to contain your moans.

A few more sloppy thrusts and Choso cums as he bites your neck a little too hard. You wail his name out of pain. He licks over the bite to soothe it a bit when he realises it as his pace slows down before pulling out completely. You miss the feeling of his dick inside you but he quickly lowers himself to fuck you with his tongue instead. His mouth and his fingers work together and it doesn’t take long for you to cum on his tongue once again.

When your breathing steadies, your grip on his hair loosens; just now realising that you’d been pulling his hair instinctively. He’s still peppering your folds with soft kisses. Your eyelids feel heavy as you pull at his bicep. He understands what you want and pulls himself up to face you, caging you between his arms.

His face looked fucked out and you know yours is the same way. You cup his face with your shaky hands.

“Hi,” he gives you an innocent smile.

As if he wasn’t just fucking you into kingdom come.

“Hi,” you smile back as a blush creeps up on your cheek, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable under him. He kisses your lips softly and you close your eyes as your arms wrap around his neck. He leaves tiny pecks on your cheeks, eyelids, nose, chin till he’s covered your entire face with soft kisses.

You giggle under him as his lips move down to your neck. He nudges his nose so that it tickles you. You know what he’s about to do as he brings a hand to the side of your abdomen to tickle you there.

You scold him, still giggling, before it escalates, “Choso! No! Please… baby I’m tired.”

“Well, if you ask so nicely…” he says as he stills his movement to sit up, but not before giving you another quick peck. You sit up to make your way to the bathroom to pee and you see him move to help you.

“I can go by myself,” you let out a chuckle but you'd be lying if you said your legs weren't feeling like jelly.

“Say yes for another round and you won't be able to.” He laughs as he takes in the way your naked silhouette looks, the bathroom light illuminating your figure before you close the door behind you.

If it were up to him, he'd be more than glad to stay up all night to hear your sweet moans, commiting to memory the way you scream out his name.

When you return, you find him standing near the bin as he ties the condom in a knot and puts it in the torn pack before dropping it in the bin. It’s a simple act yet you find it very attractive that he’s so organised.

You get back to the bed as you watch his movements intently. He bends down to grab his sweatpants from the floor and rummages through the pockets to find his phone. When he touches the screen, it lights up again, making him squint his eyes.

“Why don’t you just put it on auto-adjust?” you laugh.

“Because then it becomes too dim even in broad daylight at times.” he complains as he places the phone on his bedside table.

“Wait, do you want to set an alarm? I meannn, I’m all for missing brunch if I get to fuck you all day instead.” he says as he lies down next to you and pulls you into him till your back is pressed against his chest.

“Choso, I'm tired!” You giggle and he hums in response. You twist your head to inhale his scent.

“Your perfume’s faded.” you note.

“Then what do I smell like now?” he questions and you turn around to face him completely, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“You smell of sweat…” you kiss his lips, “and sex…” you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth briefly, “... and me.”

He smiles into the kiss, “Is it your new favourite scent?”

“Maybe.” you tease.

“Guess I have no choice but to smell like it all the time now.” he says as he kisses your earlobe. You laugh and roll your eyes at him. He pulls the blanket over your bodies, pulling you impossibly closer. You continue to lazily make out for another 30 minutes or so, whispering sweet nothings, till you eventually fall asleep in each other's arms.

You don’t get to sleep much as you wake up when daylight breaks in through his window, softly lighting up the room. You find Choso sleeping with his head on your stomach, the blanket has since shifted to the edge of the bed. In the gentle morning light, you can see his tattoo better. You slowly caress the lines of the figure and it might be the prettiest tattoo you’ve ever seen. It’s red spider lily flowers peeking out from under the larger dragon and tiger tattoo.

When your fingers gently move over the scratches your nails had ingrained into his skin, you hear him groan softly. You pull your hand away, whispering a soft ‘sorry baby’ but he slowly brings his right hand over to intertwine it with your left hand. He pulls it to his lips, kissing the top of your hand.

He bites the skin gently, earning a quiet laugh from you. He opens his eyes to look up at you. His movements are lazy as he moves up, kissing above your belly button before coming up to rest his chin on your chest.

You run your hands through his hair slowly as you speak, “I’m sorry about your back… I'll make sure to cut my nails next time.”

“No, don’t. You can scratch my back all you want… battle scars, baby.” he snorts at his own joke, “Besides, I’d say I did a lot more damage than you.”

His fingers move the stray strand of your hair away from your neck as he observes the trail of hickeys running down from your neck to your breast.

“Oh god…” you groan.

“What?”

“Mia…” you sigh.

“You don’t want her to know?” He speaks softly but sounds almost hurt.

“What? No, it’s not that. Believe me, she’s gonna do a happy dance since I'll stop being so insufferable in front of her,” you laugh before continuing, “but I had promised to get the remaining items on the list for her in the morning. She’s gonna be so pissed when she doesn’t find me in my room.”

“Ahh… no worries, we can go pick it up on our way, we still have time.” he smiles at you.

“Sooo, round 2?” you blush as your fingers dance over his bicep.

He laughs as he comes up to kiss your cheek, “You didn’t have to ask.”

You fuck for another two hours, exploring multiple positions that have you seeing stars as you chant his name on repeat. When you’re done, every single part of your body feels sore – even your throat isn’t spared as it feels sensitive from deep-throating him. You stop only because you decide it’ll be too late to get home on time if you stayed any longer.

Despite Choso’s protests claiming you’d save time if you showered together, you take turns to freshen up. You tell him no and push him in the bathroom, he pouts dramatically but closes the door behind him as he obliges nonetheless.

When you’re both dressed up and ready to leave, he pulls you in for a hug. You bury your face into his chest while he’s nesting his against your neck. You breathe in the freshly applied oud-jasmine scent and sigh, feeling intoxicated. He squeezes your body into his and you wrap your arms around him tighter as you both stay still in each other’s arms for quite a few minutes before you decide to leave.

Choso drives your car to the grocery store and asks you to wait in the car while he quickly gets the necessary items. It doesn’t take very long and you reach your apartment shortly after.

“Man… Mia’s gonna flip when she finds out we’re finally dating.” you smile, excited as he parks the car in the parking lot of your building.

“Dating?,” he questions, “Whatever gave you that impression, baby? We’re so platonic!”

Before you have a chance to react, he cups your jaw with one hand to pull you in for a kiss. You laugh into the kiss and slap his chest playfully.

“Kidding, you’re stuck with me now.” he adds, looking at you with a soft smile.

“You’re the one who’s trapped baby… heart and soul.” you say, trying to mimic his voice with the last words. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he pulls you in again and kisses you slowly.

The feeling of his lips against yours is so addicting and you don’t want to leave. If it were up to you, you’d stay in his arms forever, and then some more.

taglist: @lik0 @hueanhdang @dellalyra @aquamarine001 @personomy

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso jjk #choso #choso smut #choso kamo

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shuacore · 1 year ago

Text

barcelona nights

reader (afab) x lsm — 6.9K summary: "The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark." —a/n: a fun little birthday present for my bffl ang <3 tags: swearing, smut (18+), probably too much plot n not enough smut, not completely proofread i’m so sorry, mentions of alcohol??, emotional and physical intimacy are my kryptonite, additional warnings under the cut

additional warnings: unprotected sex (always be safe pls!!), oral (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby, angel, etc), not very adventurous but i would do anything with him tbh

playlist 4 the vibes!!! wyoming — elijah fox a quick getaway — stephen rennicks spring 1 — max richter, antonio vivaldi puerto claridad — amparanoia bamboleo — gypsy kings since i don’t have you — the skyliners the sun is in your eyes — jacob collier tell me — groove theory

Sweat drips down the bridge of your nose as the precarious stack of books in your hands threatens to wobble. Please, for the love of God, don’t fall. The summer heat is brutal—hot and humid—and it sucks all of the energy out of you as you shuffle to the library. It had been a difficult week of research and you were finally returning your books, ready to throw them and the stress from working so hard away. A bead of sweat lingers on your brow, slipping onto your eyelid and you blink furiously, praying it stays there until you can set your burden down.

In your fervor, you walk a bit too close to the curb, your toes slipping off the edge—you feel the stack slip dangerously, and you curse out loud as you realize you’re falling, desperately clutching your books to your chest, the pavement below approaching a bit too fast when—

A hand clamps around your wrist, hauling you out of the street just as a car zooms past, ruffling your hair.

“Careful!” a male voice says, breathless. And when you get a good look at your savior, it feels like you’ve been rocketed into one of the dramas you and your roommates obsessed over.

His name is Lee Seokmin, he’s 25, an anthropology major, and he is the most handsome and charming man you have ever seen. He picks you up off the street, flashes you the most blinding smile, and then your mind goes blank. The rest is history.

So it’s no surprise to you after three years when he still asks questions like, “Do you remember when we met?” You resist the urge to scoff fondly. Always so sentimental.

It’s a warm summer evening as you sit on the plaza, observing the night life of a quiet coastal Spanish town you had come across during the day. You pause the furious digging in your purse—for something which you had forgotten some time ago—to look at your partner, whose eyes are glazed over in dreamy contentment.

“Really?” you ask, tampering down the amused look of disbelief that fights its way across your face. Seokmin hates being teased unless he initiates, even if it’s all in good fun.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, in unwavering sincerity, head lolling against the back of the bistro chair as he watches you unabashedly. Even after so many years, Seokmin’s eyes still set your skin on fire, and he looks so picturesque like this, just a little bit undone from the day’s toils and a few glasses of wine down the line. The collar of his shirt is open a few buttons down, exposing a swatch of buttery smooth skin that—after the drinks you’ve had—makes your mouth water. He looks like the last burst of fading sunlight before nightfall.

You shake your head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous. Of course I do.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to say something else when his nostalgic reverie is interrupted by the waiter, who asks quietly if the two of you would like anything else. Your fiancé orders two more glasses of wine for the both of you, and thanks the waiter again as he finally takes the menus from your table.

It’s quieter now. The night is beginning to dwindle down, your bellies full of good food and wine, and in the distance the ocean waves wash across the rocky shores, pulling pebbles out to sea with quiet shushing sounds. The air is salty on your tongue, and you know you probably look a mess, especially after the long day of heat and humidity, but Seokmin watches you with shining eyes like you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You blush sheepishly, fingers finally finding your lipstick in the bottom of your bag.

“What?” you hiss without malice as Seokmin studies you. His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining even against the slowly dimming night light, and if you could commit an image to memory, if would be right here, right now, sitting at this table with him. Your stomach twists and you’re not sure if it’s a twinge of pain or an all-engulfing rush of affection, so instead you offer him another shy smile and replace your bag on the ground.

He shakes his head, more to himself, and says, “You’ll make fun of me.”

“Sure.”

“You’re just so radiant. All the time.”

You suck in a breath, cheeks burning and laugh nervously. Seokmin was an all-or-nothing kind of guy, which meant you got all of his affection, all the time. It was overwhelming in the beginning, seeing how devoted he could be to one person, but you had grown accustomed to the quiet deference in which he did everything for you. Compliments were near holy to him. Nothing was more intimate than your name. His actions always spoke louder than words. For a while you had been resistant to it—like you would never quite deserve all the love he had to give—but Seokmin had a way of worming his way into your heart and lodging there until his smile was the only thing you could think of when you woke up.

The waiter appears with two glasses in hand, asks once more if you need anything, before floating away again. You lift the glass—it’s a deep crimson and smells faintly sweet—and swirl the stem around in your fingers, watching the wine coat the sides of the glass with mesmerizing smoothness.

Seokmin lifts his glass and murmurs a toast. You say it back, and the glasses hit each other with a soft ding! His eyes glint at you over the rim as he takes a sip. The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and full-bodied, and it sends a flurry of warmth down your throat.

You hum in appreciation and set the glass down on the table. Above, the stars blink into existence, mimicking the lights flickering to life around the plaza. They wash the patio in a lovely yellow glow, throwing Seokmin into soft relief. He looks a little out of it, pretty lips parted in hazy awe of the scenery around him. It’s still humid, but not too warm—just cool enough that it’s hard to tell where your body ends and the rest of the world begins. A moped passes by, its headlights bouncing off the stone walls of the buildings around you. The chatter from other cafe-goers could be white noise in the trees. In the background the sounds of sultry guitar float through the air, soaking into your skin and you sigh deeply, stretching your arms high into the air above you. It lulls you into a serene sense of calm and you close your eyes—just for a moment.

Then—“Hey, dance with me,” you hear, whispered by lips pressed to your ear, and you open your eyes slowly to see Seokmin crouched next to your chair, his hand extended in offering. He looks so lovely here, so unguarded and pleased, the same overwhelming feeling of adoration—so strong it overflows into your throat—is difficult to choke back down. You take another hearty swig of wine, feeling it sink into your stomach and turn your legs to jelly. It activates the fuzzy feeling sitting dormant in your body, lifting you out of your chair and into the plaza center with other couples swaying slowly to the music emanating across the square. It all feels so horribly cinematic you’re having difficulty believing any of it’s real.

You inhale sharply as Seokmin pulls you close to him, your bodies snapping together like magnets. His skin is sticky and warm from the summer heat as his hands brush over your ribcage and come to rest on your waist, coaxing you into a sensual rhythm of swaying hips and chests rising and falling in tandem. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you tight to his body. The wine keeps you limber—which is nice because otherwise you’d be two left feet with out it.

Seokmin tips his head to rest his sticky forehead against yours, eyes dancing with mirth in the evening light. His fingers press into the small of your back, searing through the gauzy fabric of your blouse, igniting a slow burn that sweeps through your whole body. You sigh deeply as your eyes flutter closed, taking in the sounds of soft timbales and claves bouncing off the stone under your feet, the heat from Seokmin’s body on yours, and his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

It’s sexy, to say the least. The laughter and conversations around you vanish until all you know is the sound of Seokmin’s breath ragged in your ear and hot on your cheek. He smells like rosemary and mint and the soap from the hostel. His lips dip dangerously low on your cheek until they brush over the skin under your jaw, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat. Seokmin smiles against your temple as your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, skirting low over the smooth expanse of his stomach. He hums into your ear—a warning—as your fingertips trail just a little higher. But you’re still in public, so you pull back just enough to smile coyly at him and smooth the hem of his shirt back down.

The music is intoxicating, the melody swelling and swaddling you in a heady daydream of nothing but Seokmin. You tuck your nose into his shoulder, inhaling deeply as his fingers dance up your spine and land lightly on the back of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he confesses, and his laughter is swallowed by your lips suddenly on his, giddy and girlish. It’s just supposed to be an innocent peck—just a quick one you could share in public—but with the wine having gone completely to your head, the music reverberating in your chest, and Seokmin’s tongue in your mouth, it’s difficult to concentrate. Seokmin tastes like the Albariño you ordered, like lemon and nectarine, and so, so sweet your knees turn to liquid. He hums in content as a soft sigh escapes your mouth, unprompted. His hands are firm on your hips, fingers lacing through the belt loops of your skirt to pull you closer. You tangle your own in the damp strands at the nape of his neck, relishing the own sounds you can persuade from your partner’s throat.

Someone catcalls in the background and you come to with a start. Seokmin’s face is rosy—from the wine or from you, it’s hard to tell—but he’s well past the point of having the grace to look embarrassed. His eyes are glued to you, drinking you in completely. You grin, hiding your face in his chest. The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark.

“Go back to the hotel?” you whisper, mouth hovering mere centimeters away from his.

Seokmin’s next kiss is indication enough. Grabbing your purse, he throws a few bills onto the bistro table before tugging you away from the plaza. Street signs bleed into flights of rickety stairs and cobblestone alleyways into flowered medians and quiet side roads. The ocean roars in greeting as you run unsteadily back to your hotel. Street lamps blaze into life amid loud shouts of laughter from nearby pedestrians, and the fluttery feeling in your stomach only grows. The only thing that stays constant is the feeling of Seokmin’s hand in yours, firm and reassuring.

Then, unprompted, Seokmin tugs you into a hidden alcove off the street, and presses you hard against the brick wall, tilting your jaw up with his thumbs to pull you into a searing kiss. He draws in a sharp breath, groaning softly into your mouth as you sag into his touch. You feel like a teenager again, sneaking off the beaten path so you can put your hands all over each other. Seokmin is impatient—his hands dig into your hips, his mouth is on your jaw, and his body is so hot it’s any wonder he hasn’t yet burst into flames.

“Seokmin,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest, breaking away. His excitement is palpable. He groans, irritated, and tips his forehead against your cheek, still holding you tight to him like you might still slip through his fingers. You extract yourself from his grasp, a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and pull him away from the wall amidst protests. The privacy of your hotel room can’t arrive fast enough and it feels like eons before you’re pushing Seokmin against the back of the door yourself—so hard the air is knocked from his lungs—but he grins breathlessly as he draws you close, hip to hip, chest to chest, mouth to mouth.

You breath him in, smelling the lingering traces of cigarette smoke and lavender from the night markets on his clothes. Seokmin is all teeth and all tongue, hands traveling up and down the curve of your waist, over your ass, up your forearms and shoulders. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open as he slips his tongue in once more. You dissolve in his hands like water—you’ve always been so pliant with him, so eager to please it goes straight to his head.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, hand holding your jaw in place. His eyes are asking for a challenge.

But you feel needy and slightly hysterical that it’s all you can do to say weakly, “You.”

Seokmin’s breath is hot in your mouth and you have no choice but to ride the wave. This is Seokmin’s all-or-nothing, as he drags your thin linen blouse off your shoulders, popping the top button clean off amid breathless laughter so he can press more open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. You sigh deeply, winding your fingers into the hair at the back of his head again, chasing his lips with potent desperation. Seokmin grins, canines glinting wolfishly in the moonlight. It’s difficult to see in the burgeoning darkness—nothing but vague shadows dancing on the walls—so you kick off your shoes haphazardly, stumbling until your knees eventually strike the edge of the bed. You hit the mattress with a huff!, Seokmin in tow. His hand is hot against your bare skin, palm pressed flat to your chest where your heart races.

“This is your fault, by the way,” you tease, and Seokmin feigns sympathy, except his fingers are little too far up your thigh for the sympathy to land. You suck in a breath, eyes burning as Seokmin gazes at you with undisguised want, eyes flicking around your face in a dizzying pattern—eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, lips—like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. The air grows thicker like mud, sticking in your nose and throat and you struggle to swallow, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, voice laced with worry. His figure is clothed in deep blue shadow in the imminent darkness. Air is sparse, and anxiety flares in your stomach, unexpected, and you press a hand to your racing heart, willing it to slow. Your pulse is erratic and you realize you’re nervous.

“Woah, talk to me,” Seokmin pleads again, sitting up. His fingers around your wrist are soft, like all of him, and it eases the sudden ache in your chest, even if just a little. You place your other hand on top of his, stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

Your voice is hoarse. “Just nervous. I don’t know why—it’s so silly.”

And then Seokmin is there, tucking you into his arms and his nose in your hair, swaying as he holds you for a moment.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You know that.”

You frown, pushing away from his chest. “No–no, I want this. Just–had a moment, but I’m ok.” You lean your forehead on his shoulder again. “I’m always ok when I’m with you.” The quiet presses in on your ears. The incessant buzzing in your fingertips fades to the background, slowing to the steady rhythm of Seokmin’s heartbeat in his chest—reliable as always, a constant you had come to memorize like the spots on his face.

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers against your temple. “Whatever you want.”

The soft glow from the street lamps outside illuminate his features in a tranquil yellow hue. He looks angelic, always so gentle and willing, that it sucks the remaining air out of your lungs.

He settles back on the edge of bed, hands resting on your hips as he gazes up at you with adoration so tangible it makes your heart ache. You run your fingers gently through his hair, pushing the dark strands off his forehead and trace the shape of his profile with your pointer finger, down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, pausing over his waiting lips, down his chin until you grasp it in between your thumb and forefinger.

“You’re beautiful, too, you know?” you say, voice soft. And Seokmin smiles, pleased, and it lights up his whole face, sending a bolt of warmth down your throat like lightning. The crashing waves of the ocean are muffled under the sound of your heart in your ears. Seokmin is quiet, arms tight around your waist. Had it not been for the pulsing rhythm in your body, this might have been a tender moment—but the heat is still there, prodding in your stomach, building, smoldering, aching.

You want him. Bad.

With a noise of impatience, you pull his face back towards yours, curving your body to pull him in, kissing him longingly, hoping he’ll sense the desperation growing in your stomach, understand the way you need to feel him under and over and inside you. Seokmin reads you like the back of his hand—senses the tension in your shoulders—and knows that if he uses his mouth just right your last remaining shred of self-control will snap.

He pulls at the rest of the buttons on your blouse with agonizing restraint, kissing every inch of skin revealed with painstaking deference. His mouth trails down your sternum, pausing as he listens to the quiet exhales that leave your mouth. The skin on your stomach is sensitive to his touch, and you bite back a few nervous giggles as Seokmin ghosts his lips just down to where the waistband of your skirt rests on your hips. His thumbs dig into the skin there, and he peers up at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. Asking for permission. You nod, breath shallow in your throat.

“Should be on my knees for a princess,” your fiancé murmurs lowly, dropping to his knees in front of you. What had been a steady flame in your gut erupts into a hunger so strong it might consume you from the inside out. Your mouth goes dry as he gentle pulls you down to the mattress, urging you to sit.

In the same tender manner, Seokmin lifts the sole of your foot to his lips, eyes darkening as your breath quickens yet. His breath fans across your bare skin, up your ankles and your shin, before he pauses to press a hot kiss to the inside of your knee, teeth digging into the soft skin there. The static in your ears increases tenfold as his other hand pushes the hem of your skirt up to your waist. Seokmin’s mouth continues upward, stopping on the supple skin of the inside of your thighs. Hunger gnaws at your insides by now, and you tense your stomach in anticipation. Seokmin’s pupils are blown wide—impossibly dark as he takes you in—forcing you backwards, his mouth hovering just over the fabric in between you and complete bareness. Your breath quickens—waiting, waiting, waiting—as Seokmin’s tongue trails from the inside of your knee right to where your thigh pools at your hip.

And then, with a dazed smirk, he sets your foot down—not on the floor—but gently over the bulge in his pants. Seokmin leans forward ever so slightly, eyes daring. Already he’s so hard, even under his trousers and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from falling apart right there.

“See what you do to me?” he rasps, breath hitching as you press your foot down—just a little—to feel him so vulnerable under you. Your panties are soaked by now—it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all. Seeing Seokmin like this, shirt unbuttoned to his stomach, hair still styled so nicely, lips parted with desire; you want him like this, now, all the time.

“Seokmin–fuck–” you choke, the words ripped from your mouth as you feel his tongue, wet and hot over your panties. Seokmin tosses one of your feet over his shoulder as he wraps his fingers in the waistband, pulling your panties taut. The ability to control yourself is lost. You curve into his touch as Seokmin gently pulls your panties aside, and presses one last reverent kiss to the inside of your hip.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin, “always so beautiful for me.” Then his mouth is on you, open-mouthed and scorching on your cunt, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit, tasting every part of you. You clench your fists into the sheets, gasping for air as he wraps his strong arms around your thighs to pin you down. Even still, you squirm away from his mouth, hands pushing at his head as he sends you to cloud nine. His eyes are searing even behind closed eyelids as he drinks your pleasure, watching in rapture.

Seokmin’s voice is almost inaudible over the thrum of your heart in your ears. “You like the way I worship you, baby?”

“Yes, please, yes, oh my god, Seokmin, please,” you plead, lurching upwards to curl around his head as a particularly powerful bolt of pleasure rushes through your body. He’s ruthless, nails biting into your thighs as you writhe in pleasure, nose bumping against your clit, mouth planted firmly on your pussy as your cries become higher and more desperate. It builds and builds and builds, a rope in your gut stretching and pulling until you feel like you might snap in half. The pleasure mounts as Seokmin crudely licks his tongue up your cunt, pressed flat against your skin and you release a strangled groan, fingers knotting in his hair.

“S–Seokmin, I’m—” you gasp, body tensed in anticipation.

And then he leans back, and your release fades as quickly as it appeared. Your body aches uncomfortably. The mattress sinks down on either side of you as he braces his hands by your head. Seokmin grins, tucking a few pieces of hair gently behind your ear, dragging your mouth open with his thumb once more to push his tongue past your lips. He tastes like you and he moans as you pull him in by the back of his neck, kissing him fiercely.

“You’re a dick,” you protest, shoving his shoulder. Seokmin’s smile is tender, his cheeks flushed despite his actions just moments ago.

“Hey,” he says in between kisses to your collarbone that stifle the feeble protests spewing from your mouth, “I don’t wanna go too fast.”

You groan weakly, as he shifts his knee in between your thighs. He wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, lifting it up onto his hip.

“But I wanna feel you,” you complain, looping your arms around his neck as if to urge him on. But Seokmin just shakes his head, grinning. His leg shifts again, pressing against the ache in between your thighs and you instinctively roll your hips, mouth dropping open at the touch. He places a large hand on your pelvis, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m taking my time with you,” he says against your mouth, smiling as you sag onto the bed.

He wanted to fuck slow.

And he does, touching you with feather-light pressure, building your frustration and anticipation until you’re a sweating, panting, desperate disaster in his hands—and only then does Seokmin let you feverishly remove the rest of his clothes. The desire to feel him, see him, taste him has grown so vicious you might cry. He perches on the edge of the bed again, and with shaking hands you jerk the rest of his shirt off his broad shoulders, scraping your nails down his chest to the belt at his waist. You’ve always loved Seokmin’s body—its strong, lithe build, all toned and smooth. Seokmin curses under his breath, tossing his head back in pleasure as you kiss along his jaw and down his torso. The muscles in his stomach tense under your touch, pulled taut as your lips reach his hips again. Slowly, you undo the button on his trousers, all the while keeping burning eye contact. You want Seokmin to see how much you need him.

“Let me touch you,” you whisper against his abdomen, waiting for the desperate nod, before your fingers slip under the waistband of his briefs to finally take him in your hand. Seokmin moans low and you moan with him, imagining when he would finally let you take him, how he would stretch you out, and you’d finally feel all of him.

You pull your hand back to spit, making sure to keep your eyes on him as you do, before wrapping your fingers around his length again. Seokmin’s voice is choked in his throat as you run your hand up and down his entire shaft, taking care to twist your fist around the base of his cock, delicately trailing up and around the head, soaking up every breathy sound of satisfaction that leaves Seokmin’s lips.

With palpable restlessness, you yank the rest of Seokmin’s clothes off, straddling him on the edge of the bed again. He feels the damp fabric of your panties against his thigh and groans, his fingers knitting into your hair to kiss you again, feverish and wanting. You grind down, feeling his cock hard against your pussy and laugh weakly—except it sticks in your throat as Seokmin’s nails dig into your hip, dragging your cunt down his length again.

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” Seokmin goads, hand holding the back of your head as you roll your hips up and down his length with increasing desperation. Your nails dig into his chest. He pulls your panties to the side, eyes fluttering closed as your arousal slides over his skin. The heat of the room muddles your brain, heightening every sensation. You’re already so wet, needy and willing to do anything to make the tightness in your stomach go away. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Please–” you beg, “need you. Seokmin–”

His lips are crushing, destroying any semblance of thought you might have had.

“Go ahead, princess,” Seokmin groans, as you pull your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into yourself and using your arousal to lubricate his cock again. The weight of Seokmin’s cock in your hand, the sound of your fingers sliding down the length is enough to have you weak in the knees. Seokmin’s hands splay across your back, propping you up as you line up his cock with your entrance.

Your fiancé has always been a romantic, and this time is no different as Seokmin kisses you, open mouth waiting to breathe in your needy moans as you slowly sink down onto his cock. In your agitation, it’s still tight, extracting a few hisses of discomfort out of you. But Seokmin is there, soothing you with quiet shushes against your lips, thumbs stroking your cheeks as you take him all the way. He stretches you out, nice and slow, drawing the air from your lungs.

There you go, that’s my girl. You’re doing so well, baby.

His praise rolls over you like late afternoon sunlight, settling in your chest until you feel lightheaded—the love in your chest is too much to take. It feels more intimate than usual, being nose to nose with Seokmin like this, seeing every emotion flicker in his eyes, feeling his breath fan over your face as he pants. You comb your fingers through his hair and cup his face in your hands, as the fluttery, panicky desperation for a hold on reality reappears in your chest again. You gasp as Seokmin shifts farther onto the bed, nails biting into his scalp as he pulls you closer.

He can surely feel the supersonic pace of your heart against his chest and he shushes you gently, pressing his lips against your sternum.

“I–I just need you to relax, sweetheart,” you hear him murmur in your daze, hands running up and down your spine. “Just a little more.”

You nod, eyes squeezes shut as you try to swallow the trepidation in your stomach. Seokmin takes it all with grace; his voice is like honey in your ear, sticky and sweet, whispering soft reassurances. Seokmin’s love can be so strong—even after all this time—that it overwhelms you, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless. You’re not used to the devotion that even now, it sometimes takes a little to get used to, so you tuck your nose in the crook of his neck. The smell of sunshine still sticks to his skin, like a moth to a flame.

“Baby, are you still with me?” Seokmin asks, forefinger petting your cheek. “Hm?”

You nod wordlessly, breathing deeply while Seokmin watches, attentive, until you’ve finally taken all of him. Seokmin bottoms out with a strangled groan, and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, chest stuttering as you roll your hips with impatience. Even then, it’s still too much right away and you freeze, gasping for breath.

“Hey,” Seokmin says, holding your face in his hands, “we have all night. Take it slow.”

“I know I just—ah–” you whine, stubborn, as you roll your hips again—ignoring the vague hesitancy in your stomach—this time relishing in the dull ache in between your legs, feeling the stretch and pull as Seokmin coaxes your hips into a lazy rhythm. He watches closely, mapping out your body with his hands, leaving you out of breath and hazy in the head. You throw your head back as he kisses your exposed throat, mouth hot over your skin.

Seokmin rests his hand at the base of your throat—not quite squeezing—and leaves it there. The possessive glint in his eyes is enough to say you are mine. Mine. The thought alone is enough to have you falling into his touch.

Mine.

He slips the other hand lower, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, persuading languorous moans from your mouth, watching you with sordid fascination as you respond to his every touch. You brace your hand on his knee, brow furrowing as the pleasure in your core molds into shape. It’s hot and heavy, radiating so strongly it makes your arm shake.

“Just like–that,” you whine, nails digging into Seokmin’s thigh as he fucks into you slow, gripping your ass so hard you know it’ll leave marks. He curses as you clench around his cock, urging him to go faster. But Seokmin is, and always has been, more patient than you, and he grins slowly, even through heavy-lidded eyes clouded with lust, gripping your hips tight enough to still your movement.

“What did I say?” he challenges, lips hovering millimeters over yours. You frown, protests falling on deaf ears, as he leans in closer. His lips brush yours as he whispers, “Go. Slow.”

So you try, rolling your hips, grinding down on his cock until you think you might die, until your restlessness is as tangible as the arousal dripping onto Seokmin’s thighs. He fluctuates between playing with your clit–just until you’re on the verge of release—and waiting, just long enough to keep the buzz in your body at bay. Your knees ache as you hold yourself up, feeling Seokmin’s cock slide and and out, his hands in your hair and on your ass. He edges you, daring you to come first each time you whimper you’re close, waiting until the shaking in your fingers stops just for him to continue.

You’ve never been a crier, but after twenty minutes of this, you’re certain that even a slight breeze would cause you to come undone. Seokmin’s cock rests deep inside to the hilt, his mouth is on your skin, and you know that if he moves, you’ll come harder than you ever have before.

“Baby, please,” you beg, hips jerking at every slight movement, “please–”

Seokmin smiles, and even just the sight of his pretty teeth have the tears you’ve been holding back, rolling down your cheeks like two big fat admissions of defeat. You suck in a breath as Seokmin lifts you off his cock, dropping you onto your back on the mattress. He places one of your ankles over his shoulder, pressing you down by the back of your thigh as you toss the other around his waist.

The sounds coming from your mouth are less than human as Seokmin runs his fingers through your arousal again, placating your whines with his lips. You feel like you’re about to snap.

“Seokmin, fuck me.” It sounds so ridiculous coming from your mouth you think you might cry again, but the thought is shoved away as Seokmin slaps his cock against your needy cunt a few times, pulling more animalistic cries from your throat.

“Soon, pet,” he grins, and then his cock is pushing into you again, his fingers on your clit, his eyes dark and earnest as your whole body tenses in his arms.

Your nails claw into his skin and he hisses, brow furrowed, as you drag them down his back with uncharacteristic force, but the thought of his beautiful back marked by your torment only feeds the fire in your belly. You arch your spine, pressing into him as Seokmin draws his cock back out, still much slower than you would like. He’s just winding you up at this point, seeing just how far you’re breaking point is.

Seokmin tuts, simpering as you pant deliriously under him. He leans down, brushing his lips over your cheekbone to rest his forehead against yours. You groan impatiently.

“Patience, lamb,” Seokmin urges, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, and you frown like a petulant child. Your protests are quickly silenced as he moves, pushing into you with little urgency, pulling back out with agonizing slowness, relishing in the tiny sounds escaping your tightly clamped lips. His strokes are languid as he holds you close to his body. Sometimes it feels like a challenge, to see how long you can go without indulging Seokmin, but today every sensation is amplified tenfold—the smell of his hair, the feeling of his skin, his fingers on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock deep inside. He holds your head in between his hands, petting your hair when you tense, whispering sweet words against your skin.

“Look at me, baby,” Seokmin murmurs, brushing the hair off your forehead. Your pry your eyes open, resisting every impulse to squeeze them shut again as Seokmin pushes into you again, this time with more heat, feeling the burn in his own body increase as you brace yourself against his shoulders. His strokes are long and deep, barely a second apart before he drives back into you to the hilt, swimming in the crude sounds of skin against skin. A chorus of moans fills the room as Seokmin finally fucks you into subspace, your head going foggy with pleasure. The sounds leaving your mouth are barely coherent—just a messy jumble of garbled syllables. Seokmin is unrelenting. His stomach is tense with the effort it takes to keep up his pace. You’ve all but given up on keeping your eyes open, instead falling openly into the pleasure that builds in your gut again.

Good girl. Just a little more, I promise. Look at you, so beautiful like this. Just like that.

Good girl.

My girl.

You want to hold on. You want to hold on as long as possible. But Seokmin’s praise washes over you like the tide, saccharine and familiar, so you come again and again, feeling insurmountable pleasure pulse through your body—white-hot and blinding—so intense it leaves you breathless and weak, as Seokmin’s voice continues to flit in and out of focus.

“God!” you plead, as an orgasm so powerful it rips your voice from your throat tears through you. Your nails bite crescents into your fiancé’s shoulders, and you jolt upward to kiss Seokmin feverishly, fingers carding desperately through his hair as he fucks you through your high.

“Where–” Seokmin stutters, jaw clenched.

So you breathe, “In me,” and Seokmin groans long and low, as he comes undone, his release hot inside you, fingers searching for yours as he heaves. His hand is clammy and you smooth your other over his cheek, thumb skating over his cheekbone. Seokmin looks ragged, hair fucked and messy, lip bleeding from where you bit him in a fit of passion. He kisses you again, hungry and desperate as if the last forty minutes hadn’t been enough of you for him. Then he pulls out slowly, frowning apologetically as you wince in discomfort. He sets your foot back on the bed, before pressing one last, sweet kiss to your pelvis. You feel fucked raw, sensitive from all that the two of you had done.

Seokmin always ravishes you like it’s the first time he gets to hold you, taking his time until the bedsheets are tangled around your limbs and you’re both utterly spent. He loves you deep into the night, until the sun threatens to peek over the horizon. The dreamy cerulean color of the sky tells you it’s far too late for you to be awake. The street noise below has become all but mute, as the townspeople slumber peacefully in their homes. It’s the birdsong that pulls you from your reverie, still bleary-eyed and a little limp, so sudden you place your palms flat on Seokmin’s chest and stare at him in disbelief. He hums in acknowledgment, stirring from his place at your side.

“What time is it?” you rasp, voice hoarse from use.

Seokmin groans, reaching for his phone and murmurs, “Almost 4:30.”

Your eyes open a few more centimeters. “It’s been—it’s been all night.”

Your fiancé flashes his usual heartbreaking smile. “I know,” he says, and groans as he turns onto his side to look at you, “but I just wanted to be with you.” He tucks his arm under his head, reaching out a hand to run his thumb over your bottom lip. You kiss the pad of his thumb, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

It always feels like a promise coming from his lips.

You flop back onto the bed, wincing at the twinge in your ass and roll over onto your stomach, tucking your chin over your folded hands. The Spanish coast is quiet, and for a while it’s just you and the ocean and the intimate sounds of Seokmin’s even breathing as he falls back asleep.

The next thing you feel are his lips on the base of your spine, and the early afternoon sun in your eyes. You blink groggily, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand as Seokmin kisses up your back. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you wrap yourself in the top sheet, smiling sweetly as Seokmin leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, and rolls off the bed—still naked—over to the small kitchenette. “Coffee?”

You lift your arms high over your head, stretching until your muscles feel sore and limber, sighing deeply. “Mm, please.” Seokmin nods and grabs two espresso cups from the cupboard.

From your spot on the bed, you settle back, admiring the view of your beautifully sculpted fiancé preparing morning coffee. He’s started working out again, and you see the smooth muscles across his back flex as he stretches. Your eyes trace the graceful curve of his spine to his narrow hips and you flush, stifling a nervous giggle. Even making coffee while butt-naked, Seokmin exudes an easy confidence that sets you at peace, the slope of his shoulders relaxed as he waits for the espresso to finish brewing. The aroma of coffee curls into the air and you smile to yourself, tucking your chin into the palm of your hand. How did you get to be so lucky?

Seokmin catches you staring and breaks you from your trance by kissing your temple, holding a small espresso in his hand.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. You tilt your head and just nod, scooting so he can join you on the bed again and press a kiss to his bare shoulder. Seokmin still smells like his sunscreen. He squeezes your thigh again, gazing wordlessly over the balcony at the coastline. It’s picturesque—nothing exists beyond this hotel room except for you and him.

The espresso is warm in your hands, but Seokmin’s body is warmer.

You’ll never be cold again.

check out my other stuff! :)

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love-minor-poltergeist · 6 months ago

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Can I please request the Devil from Cuphead with a Lilith s/o? Where they were an early version of Eve that knew Devil before his fall and also fell with him. They too went through a transformation, one that made them insecure as Devil is with his own transformation.

A/N: This was an interesting request! The story of Lilith has always fascinated me. Not to mention that, like the Devil, the numerous pieces of art that were inspired by her tale are absolutely gorgeous! If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend giving John Collier’s Lilith a look-see!!

I believe I accidentally misread some of the initial request, so the reader falls/transforms before the Devil does. This batch is a little bit heftier than my usual work, so if you’re unhappy with the results, feel free to shoot me a dm so I can make any adjustments where needed!!

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The Devil with Lilith!S/O:

The Devil’s earliest memories of you traced back to when you were nothing more than a whispered name. Long ago, when he still held a place in his father’s heart, the Devil had watched your conception.

Even now, the Devil could recall his father’s mumbling under his breath, enraptured in a conversation of one. The few times the Devil (well, he was Lucifer back then) passed by his office, he could faintly make out his father’s muffled muttering through the door. Most of which were near unintelligible. Save for two names: Adam and Lilith.

After his older brothers’ incessant pestering, the Devil snuck into his father’s office. Crumpled paper balls, broken sticks of charcoal, and empty ink wells littered the floor; the Holy One’s once pristine office left neglected in its master’s fitful working.

A few steps in, his foot suddenly slid forward. Paper ripped beneath his dress shoe with a loud shriek, startling the angel. Cursing, he lifted his foot up. Beneath him laid two torn halves of a sketch page. A man– broad, curly-haired, and with eyes like a dairy cow– stared up at him; the imprint of the Devil’s shoe marring his otherwise perfect face.

On the other half was another figure. Sharp, piercing eyes and long hair that flowed like a waterfall. Ah, so you must be Lilith. It was fascination at first sight. Gingerly, he had picked up the half that housed your striking visage. Without another word, the Devil pocketed it.

He didn’t know what possessed him to take it. Instinct? Possessiveness? Even now, long after he fell from Heaven, he’s unsure. All the Devil knew was that he wanted to stare and marvel at you for hours on end.

God found out about his son’s trespassing not long after the incident. However, he couldn’t find it within him to be angry towards his favorite son. Instead, he had nurtured the young man’s curiosity. Not that Lucifer ever retained any of his father’s impassioned ramblings. He was much more interested in you.

“They are to be Adam’s wife,” his father explained, a smile present on his ancient face. A pang ripped through the Devil’s chest. Though he couldn’t quite place why.

By the time his father finally began to sculpt you and your husband to be, the Devil thought whatever torch he carried would fizzle out.

It did not.

From the moment you opened your eyes, he had been ensnared. Shyness shook his normally so confident core. And to think that all it took was a gentle tilt of your head and a wry smile. A mirthful glint shone in your eyes as the Devil fought to hide the blush steadily overtaking his face.

The Devil avoided you like the plague after your birth. He threw himself into his work– hoping that having you out of sight would put an end to this nonsense. Little did he know that absence only made the heart grow fonder.

He was forced to sit back and observe the object of his obsession from afar– lest he’d make a blithering fool of himself. You were different from most of his father’s pet projects. Disinterested. Both in the role you were given and your husband.

You always seemed to stare off into the distance. Towards the horizon. Paying the lush paradise and your husband no mind. Hell, you’d even looked annoyed when the only other human around spoke to you.

The Devil didn’t recognize it then, but you, too, hungered for more; more than what you have, for beyond the garden grounds. Most of all, neither of you wished to be subservient to anyone.

No matter how much he had tried, you never were able to bond or love Adam like God wanted to. What started out as courteous neutrality steadily gave way into contempt. Resentment bubbled beneath your stony exterior like magma within the earth. You were a ticking time bomb rigged to explode, and the Devil watched on with bated breath.

One day, you snapped. Neither you or the Devil could remember what started the argument. Only that it was enough for you to lash out and claw at your husband’s cheek– your eyes wide and teeth bared like a feral hellcat. Adam was quick to crumple to the ground, hissing in pain. You darted off into the underbrush, the rustles of disturbed foliage and the snaps of breaking twigs following in your wake.

By the time God had found out of your transgressions, you were long gone. No one could find where you ran off to. And though the Devil and his brothers were told to leave the incident behind, one look at his father’s face was enough to say it all: the deity was absolutely livid.

Hours turn into days, days into weeks. Time becomes a blur. Adam gains a new wife, and all is well in the garden once more. The bond between father and son weakens with each passing day; all the while your feral visage burned itself into the Devil’s mind.

Then that fateful rebellion happened. A sword– burning like the rage within his former brother’s eyes– is pressed to the Devil’s neck; a clear victor had been declared.

Shortly after, he fell. Screaming and burning until he was only a vague resemblance of his former self.

Life after falling wasn’t easy. He was alone, stripped of any power or influence, and the phantom pains had haunted him constantly. His wings were broken and useless, forcing him to wander the hellscape by foot, and his appearance— oh, how he had changed.

Truly, the Devil had hit rock bottom.

And then, you came back into his life.

In the centuries– eons– of his existence, the Devil finds himself at a loss of words around you. You’d regarded him with a level of distrust at first– especially since he had accidentally let it slip that he’s known of your existence before you rebelled.

It also didn’t help that, in spite of the fall scarring you– having charred the flesh of your arms and legs to a blackened and cracked state; feathers, dark and oil-slick like a raven, grew in uneven patches around your eyes, arms and thighs; and legs twisted and bent until they resembled the hind legs of a goat, complete with hooves – he thought you were absolutely gorgeous.

It takes a long time for you to trust him. Especially since the last thing you had wanted was to bow down to Heaven’s disgraced golden child. The two of you shared an acquaintanceship for a while– your interactions kept brief. However, you couldn’t deny that you were a little curious about the man.

Soon enough, a working business relationship blooms between the two of you. The Devil comes to you in search of information– be it the whereabouts of potential contracts or certain souls on his list. In return, you gain a favor from the soon-to-be King of Hell; you saw how quickly he’s amassing power, you’d be a fool to pass up having someone as influential as him underneath your thumb.

Not to mention that you may or may not have begun to enjoy spending time with him. What was once small shared rants on how much Heaven sucked ended up developing into something more.

Once the Devil finally establishes his casino in Inkwell Hell, you find yourself treated as a guest of honor. You’ll be treated better than royalty within velvet-lined walls, an entourage of imps tending to your every whim, and drinks and food are given to you free of charge. Not to mention you have free reign to enter his office or balcony seat whenever you please.

Acquaintanceship blossoms into an easy, flirtatious.. Whatever you two are. The Devil isn’t sure what to name the relationship he has with you at this point. You both share the same dry, sardonic sense of humor and are content to co-exist in comfortable silence – a part of him rather not muddy one of the few good things he has because he decided to think with his other head, so to speak.

Then again, there are certain moments where he wonders..

You’d light the end of your thin cigarette against the plump tip of his cigar, eyes hooded and lips pursed as you hummed a low thanks; occasionally glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Chuckling to yourself every time he flushes and grumbles to himself.

Every now and then you’ll indulge in drinks within his personal office. Occasionally you’d partake of his own cup, gently pressing your lips where his own rested not too long ago. Taking care to slowly lick at your lower lip each time you catch him staring.

The way you’d pause whenever the larger demon would casually brush a stray head feather back into place, gently dragging a claw against the vane in his own version of grooming. A shy flush overtaking your cheeks, turning away and covering your mouth as you grumble out to warn you next time..

How your gaze softens and body melts when either one of you recall the fall from grace; lamenting former glories and how your transformation left its scars, offering a saddened smile whenever he scoffs at the very idea that your were any less beautiful.

For as long as both of you existed, for as much as both of you constantly blur the lines of platonic comradery and something the Devil dare not name in fear of getting his hopes up– the two of you are painfully oblivious.

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#cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #the cuphead show #cuphead headcanons #x reader #The Devil x reader #ch the devil #ch the devil/reader #reader insert #requests #gender neutral reader #gender neutral imagine #my writing #self ship

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handeaux · 3 months ago

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Bye-Bye, Boss! And The Unsung Socialist Hero Of Cincinnati’s Charter Movement

Where are the parades? Where are the celebrations? Election Day this year marks exactly a century since Cincinnati voters rose up to finally end boss rule in the Queen City.

From the 1880s right up to 1924, Cincinnati had been run by what amounted to a criminal syndicate, with George Barnsdale Cox, known as “Boss Cox,” and his minions controlling every aspect of city politics and – most importantly – city finances through their stranglehold on the Hamilton County Republican Party. The Cox Gang siphoned millions of public dollars into their own pockets, let city schools and public services languish, allowed gambling and prostitution to flourish under police protection, and nationally besmirched the reputation of our city. Just how powerful was Boss Cox? Here is a major national magazine, Collier’s, from 24 September 1910:

“No public officeholder in Cincinnati is allowed to name his own deputies. Cox himself appoints these underlings. He has in each public office his representative, who is in real charge. In one case it was disclosed in a legislative investigation that the regularly elected official was not even allowed the combination of his office safe. That was the property of Cox’s agent.”

And here is The New Republic from 7 May 1924 describing a major source of the Boss’s ill-gotten gains:

“Cox was a grafter. It was definitely proved that he had pocketed many thousands of dollars, bribes paid to him by banks for illegally depositing with them Hamilton County funds.”

By 1924, Cox himself had been dead for eight years, but the ironclad Republican machine he had constructed still sputtered along, led by burlesque impresario Rudolph K. “Rud” Hynicka. It infuriated local progressives that Hynicka didn’t even live in Cincinnati but pulled all the strings – political and purse – in Cincinnati from his office in New York City.

The entire boss system came crashing down on 4 November 1924, when Cincinnati voters marked their ballots by a 2.5 to 1 margin to adopt a city manager form of government eliminating the ward-based city council.

In the years since, mythology has enshrined a conventional explanation of how this peaceful revolution prevailed. In this telling, independent Republicans like Murray Seasongood assumed the founding father roles. Here is a typical summary of the traditional narrative, from an article by William A. Baughin from the Winter 1988 issue of Queen City Heritage:

“Under the direction of Seasongood . . . the Charter Committee conducted a successful campaign to bring about these changes in the fall elections of 1924. After this victory, the Charter Committee remained in existence, completing its transition to a de facto political party when it endorsed and campaigned for a slate of councilmanic candidates in 1925.”

Though not exactly inaccurate, the standard version ignores decades of organized opposition to Boss Cox from Democrats and, notably, Socialists. It is not too strong a statement to assert that Cincinnati’s successful charter vote in 1924 would have been impossible without concerted action by the local Socialists and their allies.

Rarely mentioned these days is a radical reformer who devoted half a century to a campaign for social and economic reform. Herbert S. Bigelow was a provocative and controversial figure throughout a long and eventful life. He opposed United States involvement in the First World War and was kidnapped and horsewhipped because of that. He lobbied for old age pensions, for fair taxation, and for municipal control of utilities and transportation.

Bigelow set the stage for the political coup of 1924 as far back as 1912, when he helped organize a progressive, statewide constitutional convention. Bigelow headed a delegation to that convention from Hamilton County, was elected president of the convention; and guided the convention toward submitting to the voters an Initiative and Referendum amendment, and a Municipal Home Rule amendment as well.

As a young man, studying for the ministry at Cincinnati’s Lane Seminary, Bigelow’s social consciousness was awakened, and he dedicated his life “less for the gospel of heaven above and more for justice here on earth.” As pastor of the old Congregational Church on Vine Street, Bigelow’s social agenda so alienated the old-time congregants that he created a totally new “People’s Church” with no theological dogma, only a commitment to progressive causes. He preached, he said, the Social Gospel.

Bigelow’s church spawned what would today be called a political action committee, known as the People’s Power League, organizing liberals and radicals of every stripe from labor unions to Socialists to disenchanted refugees from the major parties. When the United States entered World War I, Bigelow loudly protested the forced enlistment of men through the draft, a position that almost got him killed. As Daniel R. Beaver relates in his 1957 biography of Bigelow, “A Buckeye Crusader”:

“The minister's outspoken attitude aroused the opposition of many patriotic organizations around Cincinnati and finally brought about a physical attack on him October 28, 1917. Bigelow was kidnapped as he was about to address a meeting of the Socialist Party in Newport, Kentucky, taken to a deserted field and horsewhipped, ‘In the name of the women and children of Belgium.’”

Bigelow that year backed the Socialist Party in Cincinnati’s municipal elections. He was convinced his attackers were egged on by the business and industrial interests of Cincinnati. Bigelow expressed a lifelong antipathy to any cause, no matter how popular, that had the support of Cincinnati’s established capitalists. This prejudice, according to biographer Beaver, affected his involvement in the Charter movement:

“His attitude was clearly shown in 1924 when a battle was begun by moderate Cincinnatians led by Murray Seasongood to introduce the city charter form of government into the political life of Cincinnati. [Bigelow] distrusted the motives of the reformers because of their business connections and remained aloof until it became obvious that he and his followers were needed to circulate petitions for a charter election. Though subsequent events are disputed, it seems that he and his associates exacted from the Charterites a promise to include a plan for proportional representation in their bill in return for the support of Bigelow's organization.”

Despite the essential contributions from the People’s Church, Charterites downplayed the pastor’s involvement because Bigelow, in addition to building grassroot support for municipal reform was also campaigning quite vocally in 1924 for Progressive presidential candidate Robert M. LaFollette, who had the backing of the Socialists. Still, Bigelow was able to influence the Charterites to adopt several reforms that originated in his progressive campaigns.

A much more nuanced version of the victory of 1924 would acknowledge the contributions of organized labor, women and Socialists in addition to the traditional political parties, and especially the role of Cincinnati’s lifelong firebrand, Herbert S. Bigelow.

#boss cox #rud hynicka #herbert bigelow #cincinnati elections #cincinnati politics

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cbk1000 · 8 months ago

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I'm back on my the-ocean-terrifies-me-so-naturally-I'm-gonna-read-about-maritime-disasters bullshit, and I have decided to rate some of the shipwrecks I have read about by how personally terrifying they are to me. Note these are not rated in terms of loss of life/objectively worst, these ratings are simply based on how much they scare the shit out of me. I'm going to use a scale of 1-5, with 1 being, 'I guess if I absolutely had to be on a shipwreck this would be maybe the less terrible of absolutely horrific options' and 5 being, 'Absolutely the fuck not.' Putting under a cut for length and for any people who are normal and don't want to read about horrible maritime disasters.

Titanic 2/5: Let’s start with the most famous. I'm not going to add a summary for this one because literally everyone knows at least the basics. Why does it only get a 2/5 when there was such a huge death toll and not enough lifeboats? Because the ship took hours to sink, I'm middle-class and a woman, and therefore probably would have been a second class passenger, and of the 95 second class female passengers, 83 survived. I like those odds. The ship also went down on an even keel and didn't list much till the end, which, as you'll see later on, is not a courtesy the ocean affords many of these disasters. However, it was pitch black and in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and even if you were one of the lucky ones who got a lifeboat, you were in a tiny little boat on the vast black early morning expanse of the Atlantic, with no idea of when or if rescue would come, and that sure is a lot of nope.

Empress of Ireland 5/5: The Empress of Ireland is not nearly as well-known internationally, but it is often referred to as Canada's Titanic. She was an ocean liner that sank in 1914 near the mouth of the Saint Lawrence River after colliding with a Norwegian collier in thick fog. Of the 1,477 people on board, 1,012 died. Why does this get a 5/5? Because it sank in only 14 minutes, all the lights went out only a few minutes after the collision, and, to top it off, it happened early in the morning when pretty much all the passengers were sleeping, and on the first night of the voyage, before safety drills, so most of the passengers were unfamiliar with the layout of the ship. The list was also so severe, so quickly, that the port lifeboats couldn't be launched. If you were on a lower deck, you probably drowned almost immediately. If you were on an upper deck, you had minutes to navigate a pitch black ship whose layout you were unfamiliar with to get to the top, where you might not even get a lifeboat because half of them were out of commission. A salvage operation was commenced shortly after the sinking, and salvage divers found that many desperate passengers had tried to escape through their potholes and got stuck, and their bodies were seen hanging out the portholes. No. No. NO. I would have told the company to get their own fucking safe and booked it the fuck out of there.

Andrea Doria 4/5: The Andrea Doria was a luxury transatlantic ocean liner that sank in 1956 after colliding with the passenger liner Stockholm in fog off the coast of Nantucket. Only 51 people died, 46 from Doria, and 5 on Stockholm. The ship began to list severely immediately, rendering many of the lifeboats useless. However, the ship took 11 hours to sink, giving rescuers plenty of time to evacuate passengers. Almost all those who died did so as a result of the initial collision and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. So why is this rated so highly? Because hundreds of passengers were left clinging to the decks of a severely listing ships for hours, wondering if the ship would roll over at any moment. I read accounts of people lying flat and taking off their shoes so they could grip the deck with their toes as well. I don't want to be cock teased with whether or not I'm going to die, Atlantic Ocean, either kill me or don't.

MS Estonia 4/5: There are some conspiracy theories for this one regarding what really caused the sinking, so I'm just going to recount what official investigations found. The MS Estonia was a ferry that sank in stormy weather, in 1994 in the Baltic Sea enroute to Stockholm, Sweden, due to poor cargo distribution which cause the ship to list, and a faulty bow door that separated from the ship and pulled the ramp askew. This caused water to flood in and rapidly worsened the list that was already present. 852 of 989 onboard died. It sank in the middle of the night, and many passengers were trapped in the ship, and even some of those who made it to the lifeboats died of hypothermia. Survivors reported hearing multiple bangs on the ship (hence the conspiracy theories about explosions or a collision really causing the sinking). So, you're on a ship in the middle of stormy seas, you're hearing bangs, and either you're trapped and fucked, or you get to go out on a lifeboat (i.e. bath toy) in the middle of the night in a storm in the Baltic Sea. It's a no from me.

MV Doña Paz 5/5: The MV Doña Paz was a ferry that sank in 1987 on its way to Manila after a collision with an oil tanker. It was extremely overcrowded, with an estimated extra 2,000 passengers who were not on the manifest. An estimated 4,385 people died, with only 26 survivors. The oil tanker caught on fire, which then spread to the Doña Paz. Survivors reported that the lights went out just minutes after the collision, there were no life vests to be found, and the crew were running about in a panic. The fire rapidly spread onboard, prompting many people to dive into the oily water...which was also on fire. Oh, and it was shark-infested. And filled with the charred bodies of their fellow passengers. Most of the survivors sustained burns. So, here were your options: burn to death; drown; burn and then drown; burn, but get pulled out of the water by rescuers, along with only two dozen other people out of the thousands who were aboard. -1000000/10 do not recommend this maritime disaster holy Jesus.

#shipwrecks #history #the Andrea doria has added a few divers to its body count as well

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lyledebeast · 6 months ago

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August 8: The Ritual (2017)

My initial review of this film on seeing it a few years back was, Go to Therapy, don't go to Sweden. I don't have a whole lot to add to that.

This is a movie about how men cope with the death of a friend from their uni days. How do they cope? . . . . . . . . not well!

I've never seen the actor who plays the main character in anything, which may well say more about me than him. But Sam Troughton is incredible as a character who is very different from the one he plays in The BBC Robin, but also not THAT different. He is not of fan of the great outdoors, that is for sure. Of course, I know Rob James-Collier from something else. Knowing about his character in Downton Abbey was basically my full-time job from 2012 to 2015. Seeing him play a character who is eviscerated by a monster instead of a screenwriter as per usual is a welcome change. He tries to referee the blame game going on between his friends, and we see where that gets him.

Go to therapy; don't go to Sweden!

#the ritual 2017 #david bruckner #sam troughton #rob james collier #i didn't enjoy this as much as the first time #but it's fine

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female-buckets · 7 months ago

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I’m kinda worried abt the twisted, ignorant narrative and wild social media takes that will happen if Diana has to withdraw from the Olympics and CC is her replacement. It will get nasty quick. USA Today already has an article out abt who could replace her- CC or Brionna.

I’m hoping she’s not really hurt and this is load management in disguise. We’ll see. I was not initially in favor of DT going to the Olympics, but now I’d so rather see her go than Caitlin.

Diana is fine. I'm more worried about BG and Napheesa Collier. The twelve who were named to the team are the twelve who need to be in Paris. There are no acceptable substitutes.

Australia has an extremely strong squad. Their roster would probably rank 6th in the league if they were a WNBA team.

At their absolute best, the USA team can play like a top WNBA team. I know it seems like they should somehow be at some level above that. But they simply do not have enough time together to reach that next level. So they're like a top WNBA team. Great but imperfect.

The #6 team in the WNBA beats top WNBA teams all the time. So Australia can beat team USA this year. All it would take is a great night from Australia and a few mistakes from USA. France and China will also put up a real fight. Please ignore any narrative that claims the Olympics are a cakewalk.

This is why you do not want anyone other than the original USA twelve in Paris. The team is designed to be a cohesive unit with each member playing an important team role. Do you want to introduce strangers to the team right before the Olympics? I don't.

#wnba #phoenix mercury #diana taurasi

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holmesillustrations · 1 year ago

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Bracket Info!

My starting list was the 700 illustrations included with first publications of each story or novel, this means the initial magazine printing in the uk and us (usually the Strand and Colliers, though other magazines get involved too especially in the later stories) plus the first novel edition if i could find it. I did Not include reprints or translations, but it might be fun for a later bracket if people want them!

I tried to get the best quality image available for each one but some are just not online unfortunately.

Bracket Poll

Full Bracket - This is in spreadsheet format because with 256 polls in round 1 and inconsistent image titles i can't figure out a more visual format, but im open to suggestions! I'll make some graphics once we hit the later rounds and there's a more manageable number

Bracket Graphic - From round 3 onwards

Polls All - R1 - R2 - R3 - R4 - R5 - R6 - Quarterfinals - Semifinals - Final Battle

Elimination Rounds (complete)

I filtered out some title banners and space-fillers/formatting-focused illustrations, but getting to 512 for a functional bracket is gonna take some elimination rounds first! Since part of the motivation here is to highlight some of the lesser known artists, i split this up into 30 'Sidney Paget' rounds, and 27 'Other Artists' rounds. These will last a week, but i'll be posting one of each every day (more or less lmao)

After these ill seed the proper bracket based on the elimination votes and we can narrow it down to a winner 1v1!

Poll Format Each poll will have 11-12 illustrations, the poll options are numbered and include a partial caption next to the artist name and story abbreviation (STUD, SIGN, SCAN &c.) Under a read more ill include the full captions, the print source, and a list of the characters or subjects present left to right.

You can see the list of story abbreviations here if you're not familiar with them, and that site also has a lot of publication info/history if you want a sneak peak at the illustrations and artists coming up that you might not have seen before 👀

Paget Eliminations

Other Artist Eliminations

Offensive Imagery and Language

I wanted to give a blanket warning for this bracket: These are drawings by white men in the 1890s-1920s, the vast majority are fine, but there is a handful that portray racist and classist imagery in line with what is present in the stories themselves. I can't consistently warn for these individually out of a list of 700 pieces, but i also dont want to pretend they arent part of this history or set myself up as an authority on which cross a line or not, so ive decided not to automatically exclude illustrations that might be offensive. Likewise, im not censoring any of the captions that are part of images, but will do my best to remove offensive terms where i'm typing them out.

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offender42085 · 1 year ago

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Post 1128

Ah.... the innocence of youth....

William David McDougal, Florida inmate V71523, born 2003, incarceration intake March 2023 at age 19, scheduled for release September 2024

Burglary Unoccupied Structure, Grand Theft, Grand Theft Motor Vehicle, Minor in Possession of a Firearm

In October 2020, the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office arrested a 16-year-old in connection with a stolen ATV and UTV, which were later used to drive over rows of soon-to-be strawberries at a local farm.

Deputies responded to an undisclosed residence on Bethlehem Road in Dover in reference to a stolen ATV. They discovered tire tracks at a nearby strawberry field, leading out to the road. The suspect fled south on Bethlehem Road. A UTV was also reported stolen that same day from a home on Sydney Washer Road in Dover. The suspect later took both the stolen ATV and UTV to vandalize Astin Farms, located at 3610 Holloway Road in Plant City. They drove through rows of what would be strawberries in the coming months, causing approximately $3,000 worth of damage.

Deputies were able to locate the stolen ATV at another residence on Calhoun Road in Plant City. William McDougal, 16, was inside the home and confessed to stealing the vehicles. He also admitted to driving into Astin Farms. Deputies are working leads to identify and locate at least two other suspects at this time.

“Through investigative measures and help from technology, our deputies were able to make a quick arrest on this suspect,” said Sheriff Chad Chronister. “This individual not only stole from innocent victims, but he also put the livelihoods of farmers in jeopardy for his selfish actions. October is a critical month for strawberry farmers who are just putting seeds in the ground for harvest later this year and into next year.”

This is not McDougal’s first run-in with law enforcement. On June 26, 2020, William McDougal, 16, forced entry into Collier’s Mower Repair, located at 1416 Florida Avenue in Seffner. There, he removed cash from the register and the DVR used for surveillance video, which together, was an estimated value of $390.00. About a month later, on July 27, at approximately 2:00 a.m. McDougal and an unidentified suspect unlawfully entered the victim’s detached barn door in Dover. They removed three dirt bikes and two chain saws, valued at approximately $4,500.00. The victim caught the duo in the act, and McDougal and his accomplice fled from the scene. Later that morning, McDougal forced entry into Parkesdale Farms, located at 3914 Tanner Road in Dover. He, along with an unidentified suspect, covered their faces in an effort to conceal their identities with jackets from inside the venue, broke a surveillance camera and stole a John Deere Gator HPX ATV. The vehicle is valued at approximately $4,000.00. Surveillance video of the incident can be viewed here. Then, during the early morning hours of July 29, McDougal entered a closed barn in Dover. He took three dirt bikes, lawn equipment, tools and a mountain bike. The total value of the items stolen was an estimated $7,850.00. During the overnight hours of July 29-30, McDougal and an unidentified suspect took a Yamaha YZF R3, valued at $10,000.00 from the victim’s driveway in Seffner. In an effort to start it, the duo damaged the ignition. McDougal’s last stop on his burglary spree was on July 30, where he dismantled the Seffner property’s surrounding privacy fence and gain access to the victim’s Polaris ATV. Using a screwdriver, McDougal was able to start the ignition and take the estimated $12,000.00 vehicle. He damaged the ignition on that ATV and another, but was unable to start the latter.

After a number of legal proceedings and other actions, McDougal was formally convicted and sentenced on February 8, 2023, more than 2 years had passed from the initial crimes.

In Florida, an ATV or MTV is considered for purposes of law to be a "motor vehicle" -- no different than a Ferrari.

#inmate

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usafphantom2 · 1 year ago

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The F-117 Nighthawk

The Lockheed F-117A was developed in response to an Air Force request for an aircraft capable of attacking high value targets without being detected by enemy radar. By the 1970s, new materials and techniques allowed engineers to design an aircraft with radar-evading or “stealth” qualities. The result was the F-117A, the world’s first operational stealth aircraft.

SR-71 T-Shirts

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

The first F-117A flew on Jun. 18, 1981, and the first F-117A unit, the 4450th Tactical Group (renamed the 37th Tactical Fighter Wing in October 1989), achieved initial operating capability in October 1983.

A total of 59 F-117As were built between 1981 and 1990. In 1989 the F-117A was awarded the Collier Trophy, one of the most prized aeronautical awards in the world.

F-117 Nighthawk low RCS

The F-117A program demonstrated that stealth aircraft with a low radar cross section (RCS) could be conceived, designed and developed, as the following story that appears in Ben Rich’s Book “Skunk Works” proves.

Rich (who served as the second vice president of Lockheed’s Skunk Works after Kelly Johnson) recalls that time Denys Overholser, engineer and radar specialist for Lockheed’s Skunk Works, spoke to him about the first completely stealthy airframe, the F-117.

KC-135Q, F-117s and A-7

The Hopeless Diamond

“Boss,” he said, handing me the diamond-shaped sketch, “Meet the Hopeless Diamond.”

“How good are your radar-cross-section numbers on this one?” I asked.

“Pretty good.” Denys Overholser grinned impishly. “Ask me, ‘How good?’”

I asked him and he told me. “This shape is one thousand times less visible than the least visible shape previously produced at the Skunk Works.”

“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “Are you telling me that this shape is a thousand times less visible than the D-21 drone?”

“You’ve got it!” Denys exclaimed.

“If we made this shape into a full-size tactical fighter, what would be its equivalent radar signature… as big as what—a Piper Cub, a T-38 trainer… what?”

Denys shook his head vigorously. “Ben, understand, we are talking about a major, major, big-time revolution here. We are talking infinitesimal.”

F-117A print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. F-117A Nighthawk (Stealth) 49th OG, 8th FS “The Black Sheep Squadron”, HO/88-843, Holoman AFB, NM – 2008

As big as an eagle’s eyeball

“Well,” I persisted, “what does that mean? On a radar screen it would appear as a… what? As big as a condor, an eagle, an owl, a what?”

“Ben,” he replied with a loud guffaw, “try as big as an eagle’s eyeball.”

Although officially retired in 2008, many F-117s remain airworthy and are used to support limited research and training missions (such as conducting dissimilar air combat training sorties with USAF and US Navy aircraft) missions based on overall cost effectiveness and their ability to offer unique capabilities.

I am sure that Ben Rich is smiling down from heaven knowing that his baby is still active.

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter Page Habubrats SR-71 and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

Photo credit: Lockheed Martin and U.S. Air Force

Premium F-117

This model is available from AirModels – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS.

Linda Sheffield Miller

Grew up at Beale Air Force Base, California. I am a Habubrat. Graduated from North Dakota State University. Former Public School Substitute Teacher, (all subjects all grades). Member of the DAR (Daughters of the Revolutionary War). I am interested in History, especially the history of SR-71. Married, Mother of three wonderful daughters and four extremely handsome grandsons. I live near Washington, DC.

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