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gojonanami · 7 months ago

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❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What?

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face.

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips.

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight.

It was just your luck.

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather.

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up.

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place.

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had.

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting.

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?”

“Well I thought you wouldn’t want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim.

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?”

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.”

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?”

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were.

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?”

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle.

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips.

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head.

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years.

Not since the very last summer just like this.

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto.

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back.

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness.

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically.

But you couldn’t blame him all the same.

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks.

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?”

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,”

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human.

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,”

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch.

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you.

“What should we watch?”

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much.

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line.

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,”

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan.

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest.

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo.

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name.

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now.

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,”

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips.

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now.

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you.

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side.

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,”

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?”

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,”

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly.

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already.

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.”

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?”

He’s too sweet.

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch.

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it.

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips.

But you weren’t going to tell him that.

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,”

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches.

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other.

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,”

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?”

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for—

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,”

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat.

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip.

But not for long.

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were.

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it.

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,”

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?”

~~~

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you.

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal.

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat.

How had he resisted for so long?

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance.

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore.

Not without you by his side.

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin.

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?”

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice.

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same.

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same.

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy.

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy.

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same.

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!”

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?”

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“

He’s so fucking big.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,”

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make.

Almost.

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now.

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was.

And he would die happy.

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were, “s’cute, is it that easy?”

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum.

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw.

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off.

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop?

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly.

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?”

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,” and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched.

And you were more than happy to oblige.

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre.

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,”

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,”

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?”

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,”

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours.

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,”

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—”

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,”

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well.

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,”

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth.

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,”

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were.

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind.

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high.

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now).

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does.

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief.

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic.

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed.

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips.

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?”

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,”

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,”

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower.

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?”

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it.

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?”

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

#sab [mlist]#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen

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umberpath · 3 months ago

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On one hand I'm shocked mouthwashing exploded so fast, and it's especially surreal seeing it go through the process of fandomization wherein ships and stickers and such start cropping up. Though, I have to hand it to Wrong Organ, it's a compelling experience.

I think part of what lends to its spread in fandom is its concise cast and potent imagery. The game gets a lot of mileage out of its metaphors, visual and otherwise, and people latch onto that HARD. If you can convey an emotionally heavy concept with a symbol alone (a bottle of mouthwash, a pony, a hibiscus, an axe...) you're recontextualizing the mundane. They're going to think of your story when they see mouthwash. When they see birthday cake. The conversation of a dead pixel, of all things, will ring around in mouthwashing player's heads for a long time. And these symbols are tied to the characters in different ways. Characters which have such strongly differing actions and motives behind them. Memorable characters, memorable visuals, memorable narrative—you're cooking the perfect storm for a fandom to spring up around your game because it's not only a good game, but it's a spreadable game. It's extremely fanart-able. Theory-able. People who haven't been introduced to mouthwashing will see the imagery and feel a sense of mystery. Why is that guy so severely burnt and bandaged? What's with the mouthwash? What does any of this have to do with ponies? It seeds intrigue. Then, people familiar with the themes get the satisfaction of being in-the-know and Getting It. They might introduce others to the game so they can also understand and discuss the themes together.

It rings familiar with NOPE's popularity. NOPE was great, of course that's why it's popular, but what I'm getting at is that it too made use of the power of symbols and metaphor to make its concepts really stay stuck in people's heads. And the artwork that fans made echoes this! The streamer trailing from the mouth of Jean Jacket, clouds and horses, the vertical shoe, the ufo imagery... If you've seen NOPE fanart you know what I mean! The mundane transformed! The most prominent afterimages bounced back and forth until they represent the whole.

And this isn't derogatory, it's fucking fascinating to me. How stories can impact schema. How powerful an image can be once you tie it to a feeling or an idea or a person. This goes deeper than fandom popularity or youtube analysis videos. Does that make any sense? I'm rambling but this pattern repeats so much and instead of being cynical about the predictability this time I want to appreciate the phenomenon itself. There's probably something to be said about symbols being extremely powerful throughout human history and culture but that's out of the scope of my unplanned "woah mouthwashing, am I right?" post here.

I leave you with these pictures, make of them what you will

#musings #mouthwashing

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ersatz-ostrich · 6 months ago

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A Sweet Discovery

Connor & gn!reader, RK900 & gn! reader

help why is the gif ENORMOUS

Analyzing… Analysis complete. Conclusion: delicious. Connor and Nines try jam for the first time.

[A/N]: WELCOME BACK EVERYBODY! I BRING CONTENT

After seeing fanart on Pinterest of tiny Connor and tiny RK900 trying jam for the first time, I had an idea that really spiraled out of control (if the word count says anything lol). Although the word 'jam' only appears 45 (!) times during this fic, I swear I've typed it out so many times that the word's become surreal to me. Like, jam, jam, jam...um, what does 'jam' mean again? Anyways...

read here on ao3

You stirred the bubbling pot on your stove, humming pleasantly. It was a lazy Saturday in the peak of summer, and you had decided to spend your free time trying your hand at canning what was abundant and in season instead of rotting on your couch or in bed. Various ingredients and equipment were strewn about your kitchen—a colander, a large jar of sugar from the pantry, cutting boards, and boxes on boxes of fruit. Alongside your pot of jam-to-be, you had set another pot of water to boil with glass jars in it to sterilize them.

You stirred away, mind drifting, until you were pulled back to the present by the chime of your doorbell. Your head turned to the screen set up on your counter, where you saw through the footage of your doorbell camera two androids and a large Saint Bernard waiting politely at your front door. Grinning, you departed from your post at the stove momentarily to hit the button to let them in.

“Come on in, you guys!” You called out from the kitchen. The lock clicked, and Connor let himself in, followed by Nines.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Connor piped up first. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I wanted to do something useful with my time off, so I decided to make some jam.” In a most Connor-like fashion, he tilted his head, curious. While Sumo settled contentedly on the carpet in your living room, you beckoned the androids into your sunny kitchen. “So, what brings you two here?”

“We were walking Sumo and passed by your home.” While you only lived a few blocks from Hank, you found it interesting that they had chosen to show up unannounced. “I thought we should pay you a visit.” He gave you an easy half-smile, something that had become more and more common as he grew accustomed to deviancy.

“Are we intruding? If so, we’ll be on our way—”

“Nonsense, Nines, of course you can stay,” You waved him off as you agitated the bubbling jam on the stove, which was coming along nicely. “I’m not doing anything particularly important right now. Have you two ever had jam?”

“Jam, as in…fruit cooked and preserved in sugar and other additives?” Nines inquired. “I’m afraid not, Detective. We were designed to analyze samples of organic matter from crime scenes. Jam, so far, has not been one of those samples.” You chuckled at his response.

“Well, would you like to?” You pulled the glass jars out of the pot of water and onto an awaiting towel with a pair of tongs, all while stirring your jam. “I’ve got some blueberry jam in those jars on the kitchen table.” You reached for your utensil drawer and handed a spoon to Connor. “Try it.”

Connor took the spoon and eyed the jars on your kitchen table, LED spinning. Taking the lid off of one, he spooned out a generous dollop of the dark purple substance, which stuck to the spoon and slid off lazily when he put the spoon in his mouth.

Silence passed over you and the androids; the only sounds in the kitchen were the burbling of your jam and your spoon scraping against the walls of the pot as you watched Connor’s LED glow a bright, whirling yellow.

The moment the jam hit Connor’s sensor-studded tongue, his processors were flooded with input. He dropped the hand holding the spoon, and the spoon fell out of his mouth and clattered onto the table. Flavor, or as much flavor as a deviant android like himself could sense, bloomed on his tongue and sent pleasant sparks coursing through his artificial nervous system. The data came flowing in as his LED continued to spin; he detected a delicious bouquet of volatile aromatic compounds and acids, no doubt from the fruit, and a torrent of carbohydrates. If he had possessed any human taste buds, he would have registered the taste of the jam as tart, sweet, and delicious.

With astonishing speed, Connor snatched up the spoon from the table, scooped out a helping of the jam, and unceremoniously shoved it into his successor’s mouth.

Nines’s LED flashed red as Connor insistently jammed ; then yellow as he processed the data he was receiving from analyzing the jam in his mouth; and then, finally, pulsing blue as he began to appreciate the jam’s agreeable taste.

“It is…interesting.” Nines spoke when Connor finally removed the spoon from his mouth. “I have never analyzed anything like it before.”

“Yes, but how is it?” You asked. “Do you like it?”

“I cannot determine whether or not I like the data I receive from analyzing samples, Detective.” Nines cracked a small smile. “But…I would say that the sensory stimulation I received from tasting the jam was pleasant.” Upon hearing his comments, you beamed, glad to have been given the RK900 seal of approval.

“It sounds to me like you like the jam, Nines! I’m glad.” You smiled softly as the androids chatted over the kitchen table. It was so gratifying to help androids like Connor and Nines experience things both mundane and complex without the restraints of their Cyberlife programming. Something so simple as blueberry jam, you realized, could brighten their day.

“Are these blueberries from upstate? Blueberries are currently in season in Michigan.” Connor inquired.

“Yeah, I got them from Rose’s Farm outside of Detroit. They let you pick your own blueberries and the price is pretty great for the freshness and quantity you get.” You knocked your spoon against the rim of the pot to let your now-finished jam drip off and transferred your pot onto a square pot holder to cool. Connor raised his brows upon hearing you mention the farm owned by Rose Chapman, whom he knew to have harbored deviants leading up to the day the androids had won their freedom. He had first learned of the woman from a group of androids from Jericho, not long after he had become a deviant.

“I see,” Connor mused. “Is this your first time making jam?”

“No, it isn’t. I definitely wasn’t this good the first time around.” You laughed sheepishly, taking some jars off of your kitchen counter and presenting them to the two androids. “See, this one’s started fermenting. I noticed when I opened the jar today and it smelled off. I think I didn’t sterilize my jar right or something,” You explained. Connor dipped a spoon in the deep red jam. After a brief analysis, he determined the failed jam to be contaminated strawberry preserves.

“You are correct. I detect trace amounts of alcohol in this sample from fermentation,” He replied after a second. “I also detect a certain strain of mold. These preserves should not be consumed.”

“Yeah, I’m going to dump it. Try this one,” You held out another jar of strawberry preserves. Visually, Connor couldn’t tell what was wrong with it at first until he stuck the spoon in the jar and realized that the consistency was too thick.

“The sugars in these preserves have caramelized,” Connor concluded.

“I kinda…screwed up and burned my preserves.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Nines reaching into the utensil drawer for a spoon to sample the contaminated strawberry preserves.

“If you would not like to waste these strawberry preserves, Detective, I could take it. Androids are not affected by mold contamination or fermentation.” He began.

“You sure? That stuff’s gonna grow some pretty gross mold colonies after some time,” You responded, wrinkling your nose. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you take some of the jam I just made? I have so much jam in my house right now and I don’t know what I’m going to do with all of it.” You screwed the lid on the blueberry jam Connor and Nines had tried and pressed it into the RK900’s hands. “Oh, and—” You hurried back to the kitchen counter to pour out some of the jam you just made into one of the sterilized jars you had left to dry. “—take this, too. It’s raspberry jam.” You handed the warm glass jar to Connor, who accepted it enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Detective. I—we appreciate your generosity.” Nines replied, pleased.

“I can’t wait to try your raspberry jam. I’m sure it’s delicious,” Connor added.

“You’re too kind, both of you.” You laughed cheerily, walking with them into the living room where Sumo raised his head to greet you. “I’ve got plenty more fruit to preserve, but I don’t want you two to keep Hank waiting for too long.” With Sumo’s leash in one hand and a jar of jam cradled carefully in the other, Connor waved goodbye and stepped out the front door. Nines followed suit, nodding politely at you.

“Thank you for showing us something new, Detective. Thanks to you, I feel like I have expanded my horizons greatly since becoming deviant.”

“It was my pleasure, Nines. You’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“Hey, whatcha eatin’, Tin Can?”

“Blueberry jam, Detective.” Spoon still hanging out of his mouth, Nines offered the jar to Gavin. “My filtration system can only handle about a spoonful every now and then, but I enjoy the taste. Would you like some?” The abrasive detective inspected the jar with a critical eye.

“Fuck, who put you on human food?”

“Detective L/N.” Nines answered placidly. “L/N is very good at making jams.”

“Shit, is that where Connor got his jar of jam from?” asked Hank, stopping by Nines and Gavin’s desks on his way back from the breakroom. “The one he keeps on his desk alongside a spoon. I catch him eating spoonfuls of the jam from time to time.” Nines nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Gavin muttered. “Androids eating jam. What’s next? Donuts?”

While Gavin’s speculations did not become a reality, Connor and Nines continued to enjoy the simple pleasure of homemade jam. It wasn’t long until their android brother Sixty discovered it, and he responded with equal enthusiasm for the stuff.

Noticing their newfound habit of shoving jam-coated spoons in their mouths during lulls in work at the precinct or after visiting particularly gruesome crime scenes, you continued bringing them different flavors of jams and preserves for them to try. What had been your way of killing time at home had become a full-fledged hobby.

“They’re my android guinea pigs,” You joked to anyone who asked. “They’re the first in line every time I experiment with a new recipe.”

Finally, after Connor had turned up on your doorstep to return emptied-out jars for the umpteenth time, you decided to teach him how to make his own jam.

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to make jam for you guys anymore. I just think you’d like it if you tried making it yourselves,” You explained. “I’m sure you can download some executable that magically gives you culinary skills through the power of software, but you’ll still need practice, right?”

“I’m not sure, Detective—” Connor replied uneasily. “I was not built for domestic work, but I will try.” He had elected to wear an apron as you walked him through the process, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Connor standing in your kitchen wearing a red gingham apron over his impeccably neat clothes. He was eager to learn, a trait you had always liked. What he had once called “Cyberlife’s social integration module” had made him adaptable, open-minded, and a great listener.

You had invited Connor into your kitchen on a sunny Saturday morning, much like the morning Connor and Nines had first tasted blueberry jam. By noon, he was strolling back to Hank’s place with a spring in his step, carrying a box that rattled with glass jars of his own preserves.

Making jam soon became Connor’s new favorite hobby. He enjoyed the endless variation in recipes and tasting things other than forensic evidence. You started seeing jars of jam mysteriously popping up on your desk every couple of weeks. When you asked Hank if Connor was the jam fairy behind the gifts on your desk, the lieutenant feigned ignorance.

Connor was also able to branch out into the android community of Detroit. He began to frequent the android-populated New Jericho neighborhood that had formed after the government acknowledged androids’ personhood, where he met current and former employees of the Detroit Urban Farms project and other androids with green thumbs. They exchanged the produce they grew for the preserves he made, which they sold at a farmer’s market downtown. Connor declined a share of the profits, saying that he wanted to support the burgeoning android community with his hobby. He was building a life for himself that he had never expected to have when he was a machine, and that was enough for him.

As for Nines, his newfound sweet tooth led him to discover a different interest. On his days off, he liked to explore the city in which he was assembled. On one of his walks, he discovered a candy shop on a street corner a few paces away from Bellini Paints. There, he was introduced to the delights of various different candies. Soon enough, he couldn’t go anywhere without stashing a fistful of lemon drops or hard caramels in the pocket of his raincoat or suit jacket. His coworkers—especially his partner Gavin—found the sight of Cyberlife’s most advanced investigator android and (former) killing machine licking contentedly at a heart-shaped lollipop jarring, intimidating even. However, his penchant for hard candy endeared him to the children he encountered in his line of work—scared, stressed children who would have previously cowered away from his imposing figure and piercing stare.

One time, Officer Miller had brought in a sandy-haired, freckled five-year-old boy who had been separated from his parents while attending a large parade. The child had wandered the streets for the whole day. The officer had found him sitting by himself on a park bench, teary-eyed.

Upon taking him back to the precinct, the child was inconsolable, crying until his tears dried up and continuing to tremble and whimper softly for his parents. Nines, who had just returned from the scene of a crime, noticed the boy sitting on a bench across the hall from the bullpen and being attended to by an ST300-model receptionist. Nines locked eyes with the android.

How is he doing? The ST300’s LED flickered yellow as she responded,

Not very well. He hasn’t stopped crying.

I’ll see what I can do.

Nines crouched down to reach the gaze of the boy’s stormy, downcast eyes. He produced a lollipop from a pocket in his jacket, unwrapped it, and offered it to the boy.

“It’s blueberry-flavored,” Said Nines. “Blueberry is my favorite flavor. What’s yours?” The boy sniffled and jammed the treat in his mouth.

“O-orange.”

“That’s a good choice,” Nines replied with a smile. His usually stoic, frosty expression softened. “I have a brother who makes the best orange marmalade ever.” He took a seat beside the boy.

“I a-always wanted a b-brother,” The boy hiccuped. “B-but Mommy and Daddy are g-gone, a-and—” His hiccups turned into sobs. Nines let the boy lean on him, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Nines whispered. “You’re safe here. Everything will be alright. Everything will be just fine. We’ll find your parents, I promise.” Even if it takes Cyberlife’s most advanced android to track them down. He continued murmuring soothing affirmations to the boy, whose shoulders stopped shuddering as his sobs quieted.

We just confirmed that the boy matches the description of a missing child that was reported earlier today. His parents are on the way, Connor silently informed Nines from his desk.

Understood , Nines replied. He and the child lapsed into a comfortable silence as the misty-eyed boy continued to suck on the lollipop.

“What’s your name?” Nines asked the boy.

“Luke.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke. My brothers call me Nines.”

“That’s a weird name,” Luke blurted.

“My coworker, Gavin, thinks so, too.” Nines replied, side-eyeing the detective, who was idling in the bullpen. “You know, Luke, brothers are a handful. I have two—I’m the youngest.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They’re always up to something and I have to stop them from getting themselves into trouble.” Nines chuckled softly as some of his android predecessors’ antics came to mind. “My big brother, Connor, is the one who makes jam. Tell you what, I bet I can get him to make orange marmalade just for you.”

“Yeah?” Luke raised his gaze to meet Nines’s.

“A big jar, all for you.” A wide grin broke onto Luke’s cherubic face.

“I love orange mara-” Luke frowned. “Marmam-”

“Marmalade,”

“I love orange marmalade!” Luke giggled.

From the bullpen, Tina and the other officers craned their necks from where they were stationed at their desks to get a good view of Nines giving a rare, bright smile as the boy clung to his arm.

“Who knew Mr. Thirium-Pump-of-Ice was so good with kids?” Tina whispered to Gavin.

“I dunno,” Gavin whispered back. “If he didn’t act like such a stuck-up prick all the time, maybe more people would approach him. Kids included.”

“The RK900 is equipped with a social module similar to that of the RK800 line,” Connor piped up. “His software is capable of adapting to the behavior of children, including consol-”

“We get it, Connor!” Gavin whisper-shouted.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” You offered. “Even though he’s deviant, Nines doesn’t show us this side of him often.”

“Aww. Maybe Nines is a softy after all.” Ben joked.

“Ooh, don’t let him hear that, Collins. You’re ruining his street cred.” Gavin retorted.

While the officers watched on, as discreet as a zebra at a horse show, Luke willingly climbed into Nines’s arms and let him carry him out to the precinct lobby where his parents were waiting anxiously. Just before he exited the bullpen, Nines cast a glance at Connor, LED flashing yellow. Connor’s LED flashed likewise.

“Connor? What’s up?” You asked as the RK800 stared off into the distance.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get some good oranges, would you, Detective?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~end or something idk~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: I initially wanted Nines or Sixty to discover honey/take up beekeeping after discovering jam/fruit preserves...but then I realized that bees are extinct in Detroit: Become Human :( hope you guys liked this little tangent! until next time x

let me know if you want to be part of my general taglist!

#rk800 #rk900 #connor rk800 #dbh connor #dbh nines #rk800 x reader #rk800 & reader #rk900 x reader #rk900 & reader #dbh #detroit become human #dbh x reader

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yuis-art · 1 year ago

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🏋🏼‍♀️ Gym Trainer: Abby Anderson x Fem!Plus size Reader🏋🏼‍♀️

Part 3!

This Chapter does contain smut! SO MINORS DNI WITH THIS POST! Please!

C/W: Fingering (r receiving), clit play, Praising (good girl, pretty girl), heavy making out, reader squirts , breast play

Word count: 3k!

Proof read: yes

Enjoy!

“Should I wear Make-up? No she’ll think it’s a date.” You look at yourself for a minute. “What if it is tho?” You say as you grab a little bit of foundation and then do your hair in your go-to hairstyle.

You try to find a cute outfit. Or not really cute, but something she’ll like. You wear some jeans and a black casual shirt, one that really shows off your breast. “I swear half my clothes are so basic. But this will do I guess.” You put on some lipgloss and a strawberry shortcake perfume.

As you’re about to leave you grab your purse and your phone and lock your apartment. You’re standing outside and you’re checking yourself every minute in your mini mirror. “Why am I so nervous, I literally took a class with her not too long ago.” You start texting Nora.

You: Noraaaa

Nora: yes girl

You: I think Abby is taking me on a date.

Nora: WHAT. She’s never this bold. She must really like you.

You: girl I’m so nervous.

Nora: don’t be lol, I bet she’s more nervous than you don’t worry.

As you’re about to text Nora back you get a text from Abby.

Abby: I’m here :)

You’re looking around and you adjust your hair.

Abby pulls up in her light blue beetle, you never expected her to be in a car like that honestly, it’s so small compared to her stature.

You wave and Abby ducks her head a little and waves at you. She gets out her car. She’s wearing a black tank that’s showing off her body again, with green cargo pants and a light jacket.

‘Oh my ggoooodddd’ you think, literally just by looking at her you feel your heart ache, and your sweating. You never realized how tall she was either.

“Hi!” She ducks down to your height and smiles. “H-hi Abby.” You say as you advert your eye contact again.

She’s walking back to her car and she opens the door for you. “After you pretty.” You’re going crazy, she’s using so many names on you and it’s making you go nuts. You already know your face is heated.

You get into the car and she shuts the door lightly but hard enough that it doesn’t slip open. She’s racing to the other side and she jumps in. She puts on her seatbelt and puts her keys in the ignition. “Oh wait hold on.” She reaches over and grabs your seat belt and puts it on for you. She smells so good. She’s so close to you. Face by your neck, hand on your arm. You wish you could stay like this. I know you barely know her but oh my god, if you could, you would kiss her right now. She pulls back and starts driving. You’re just staring at her. Starstucked. She’s smiling and playing her playlist again. Her eyes are on the road. “You’re staring, did. I do something?” She says as she glances over at you for a second and her eyes keep on the road. “O-oh sorry!” You say as you put your purse close to your stomach, clenching on it out of nervousness. “Where are.. we going by the way?” You say, head on the seat staring at her again. “I wanted to take you to this one realllyyy good place. Like they have the best protein filled stuff; I usually go here after my workouts.” She says as you both wait at a stop light. “I’m excited, honestly after our workout today I had no idea what to eat, like I have no idea how to meal prep and, I don’t know where to start.” You look at the road with her. “…I could.. cook for you, I could do meal preps with you.” She glances over again and her cheeks are a little flushed. “Ms Anderson are you gonna cook for me?” You say jokingly and she chuckles deeply. “Yeah of course, I don’t mind and I promise my food is good! Trust me on this.” She says as she stops at another stop light.

You both sit in a comfortable silence again. Until,

“Actually.. ok.” She pulls over, she turns to face you and her cheeks are still flushed. “If you want.. we could go back to my place actually and I could… maybe.. cook for you?” Your eyes widened. ‘Oh my god I’m going to her place.’ “I-I uh.” You start stuttering. “Sorry, never mind it was a dumb idea-“ You stop her mid sentence. “I.. wouldn’t mind at all Abby.” You say with a genuine smile on your face. Her eyes widened. “Ok! Um, let’s see, I may have to pick up a few things. Do you mind grocery shopping with me?” “Abbyyy I thought you’d never ask.” You say with a goofy smile appearing on your face. She rolls her eyes jokingly and she pulls off into the road again.

You both stop at convenience store. She gets out and runs to open your door for you. “Thank you pretty.” You say smiling. She grabs a cart and she waits for you. You’re grabbing your purse out her car and you shut the door. As you look at her. You notice her hand holding out and she looks at you. You give her a ‘?’ Look and she starts smiling at you and she giggles. “Give me your hand cutie.” She says. Your face gets heated again. You grab her hand and she locks it with you.

She’s acting so nonchalant but you’re literally so in love with this girl. You both walk in and your hand starts sweating so much; she keeps adjusting your hands together as she makes it to the meat section looking at all the chicken. “You’re not vegetarian or vegan are you?” She looks over at you and you shake your head no. She adds the chicken to the cart. As you guys keep walking around the store you look at your hand size difference. Her hand is so big; at least 2 inches bigger than yours. You’re daydreaming again, and your thumb rubs over the back of her hand. ‘Oh my god. I Wonder what these would feel like..’ you loose your train of thought as she looks at you. “Do you wanna get winneeee?” She says holding the bottle by her face and tilting it. “Y-yeah! Sure.” You say as you advert your eyes again. “Are you ok? I’m sorry was the hand holding to much?” Abby’s hand slips away. You grip it tightly. “N-no! Please. I like This.” You say to her as you rub her hand again. “Ok, eager girl.” She says playfully. Your face heats up again.

She finished grabbing everything and you both check out. You head back to the car and she opens the door once again for you. The car is silent, she’s driving to her place, her playlist echos in the background. “Abby.. can I ask you something.” She says a light “Yeah?” As she focuses on the road. “Would this count as a date?” You glance at her and focus on the road with a heat coming to your face, I don’t know why you felt so bold all of a sudden, she makes you so nervous but you figured. “And if I say yes?” She looks over at you again and back at the road. You smile and get all giggly. “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL MEEE.” You say, your face getting even more hot. “I-I’m sorry!” Abby says. “Nora told me.. to ask you in a smooth way but to not be forward?” She smiles still focusing. “I-I was gonna ask, but-“ “Abby.” You grab her bicep. “You’re ok! Im completely fine with it.” Your brain gets to thinking. ‘Noraaaa..no wonder she said Abby’s probably more nervous than me.’ you’re wondering why she didn’t just ask you straight up, like you would say no. Abby is too pretty for you to say no. “I wish I would’ve wore something better then.” You laugh. “You look good to me.” Abby says, she glances at your chest for a moment. “I like the shirt on you.” You punch her softly jokingly, and she laughs.

You make it to a nice neighborhood, it’s so pretty, so much trees. She lives in a small house community, almost like apartments. She arrives and it’s a one floor house, she has a lot of plants, mainly sunflowers/daisy’s. She parks in the drive way. “Sorry for the first date being at my house.” She says taking the keys out the ignition. “It’s fine you’re ok.” You say to her. You unbuckle your seat belt.

You both make it in the house. It’s very small but very cozy. She places her gym equipment on the floor by her couch.

It’s so warm in here, her wallpaper is a nice tan color, and her furniture is a mix of a lot of beige and dark grays. She also has ALOOOTTT of books, like a whole library in her house. “Wow, this is nice.” “Thank you.” She says quietly setting the food on her counter top. She takes off her jacket and hangs it up. She looks so good right now. Her arms are showing, her skin looks so soft, yet so sculpted. “If you want you can watch something while I get started.” She puts on a tight white apron with a pink hem at the bottom. “D-do you want me to help.” You say, the way she looks right now oh my god you’re drooling, she’s making you so wet without even trying too. “No pretty you don’t have to.” She says holding your chin and rubbing it. You almost drop to your knees. She rubs your lower lip softly, glancing at your eyes and your lips. “Don’t worry, yeah?” She lets go of your face with a smirk and she head towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench. She’s gonna drive you crazy.

You sit on the couch and flip through channels. The way she living room is set up, it’s an open kitchen so you can see her, but she can’t really see you, all she sees is your head.

You start texting Nora.

You: IM AT HER HOUSE, she’s cooking for me

Nora: DAMN? She must really like you dude, cause that girl never brings anyone to the crib 💀💀💀

You: LMFAO, WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME IT WAS A DATE

Nora: SHE WAS NERVOUS SO I TOLD HER TO ACT LIKE IT WASNT IM SORRY

You: it’s ok 💀, but I’m so nervous I’m just sitting here on the couch and I’m trying to find something to watch, she caressed my lips, MY LIPS NORA

Nora: OMMGGG DUDE GOOD LUCK, let me know how it GOESSS HAHA, you were in her class for one day only and now your at her house 😭

Abby breaks your head up from your phone. “I don’t hearrr anything on the tvvv.” She says as she’s turning on the rice cooker. “S-sorry! Haha I’m a little nervous, I don’t know what you like.” “Whatever you turn on I’m sure I’ll like it.” She says glancing at you. You end up turning on an early 2000s movie. One of those goofy teen movies. They’ve always been your favorite. Hopefully she’ll feel the same. “Oh my god not this.” She says as she comes over to you and leans on the couch staring at the tv. “I haven’t seen this in so long.” She laughs and looks at you. You advert your eyes from her, your face is getting so heated again. “I could change it!” You grab the remote and Abby snatches it. “No no, don’t change it haha, I use to watch this with my dad all the time. So I kinda grown to like it.” She says putting the remote on the counter top. She walks back to the kitchen and you stand up. “Is it ok, if I watch you. I mean, I know you told me you could cook for me, but just in case I wanna meal prep later on in the future.” You say smiling. “Sure I don’t mind.” She looks nervous. “Uhhh, here let me show you.” She holds out her hand and she guides you. She brings you near the counter top and by the cutting board. “I��m gonna show you how I cut my chicken. Usually I do it in squares.” She stands behind you, extremely close, she grabs your hand gently. Knife in one hand gently holding it in yours guiding your hands. Her waist is so close to your back you can feel her breathing softly. She leans over you. “Is this ok.” You’re getting so wet, this is ridiculous. You haven’t had any action in so long and this girl is literally driving you off the rails. “U-uh y-yeah. It’s fine.” You say. She chops the chicken with you and you look at your hand difference again. Her hands are so big over yours, her rough callus hands. You almost feel dizzy, she’s so warm. Is she teasing you? Does she wanna see how heated you can get, how nervous she can make you. It’s almost like she’s edging you, without even going anything.

“Then I cut in squares like this, you see.” We could prep the vegetables next if you want too. She backs away and goes to the sink to wash her hands and you follow after her. You both wash your hands. “Grab the vegetables out the fridge for me yeah?” You nod, trying not to fall over. The tension is so thick, you lean over looking into the fridge trying to find them. She leans over you again, whispering to you. “Did you find them?” “Y-yeah!” You shoot up and hit your head on the freezer door and fall back a little. “Oh my god! Are you ok? Wait let me get something hold on.” Abby grabs you by your arms and lifts you effortlessly on the counter top. Your thighs clench again. She moved you like you were nothing, and you never had anyone pick you up like that. “I think I got an ice pack in here.” She finds it and hands it to you. You place it on your head and kick your feet gently. Abby walks up to you, getting her waist in-between your legs, she comes so close to your face but she ends up tilting your head down so she can she the top. “Ok it doesn’t look that bad, I’m sorry for startling you.” She says as she rest her hands on your hips softly. She’s been close but oh my god she’s so close. Her lashes are fluttering, you feel how warm her face is. You start breathing heavier, you’re getting so wet. She’s all that’s in your mind. “Abby…” You say breathlessly, practically moaning her name. She looks at your face. Her face gets a little red when she sees her position. “Oh I’m sorry!” She says she’s beginning to back up but you try to hold her. She looks at you for a moment. Up and down at your face; and then your chest.

“Abby..” you say again softly. “..Yeah?” She says looking at your lips. “C-can I.. kiss you?” You say. Scared she’ll say no, you let go of her for a second, but instead she leans into you kissing you softly on your lips. You don’t know what to do with your arms so you move them around her neck. Her hands start gripping at your love handles, she messages them and then she uses the other one to grip your thighs. You let out a soft moan, and her tongue roughly slips into your mouth. She begins moving her hands up the back of your shirt, grabbing your bra strap, flicking with the handles. She stops. “Wait.” She looks at you, your hair is already a mess, your breathing so heavy. She’s got you so wet and so dizzy with lust. Your pupils are blown so wide. “Do you.. want this.. I know we barely, know each other. We only know each other through Nora but. We can stop and-“ You kiss her cheek. “I-I do. I promise. Abby, I never met any one like you before. I haven’t really been into dating recently ever since I’ve gained a little extra weight. I felt self conscious to get back out there. That’s why I wanted to start loosing weight, but I realized that I wanted to do it for myself instead down the line, but I didn’t expect the gym trainer to be so hot… and into me.” Abby giggles and caresses your face. “Ever since Nora showed me a pic of you back in college I knew I had to get my hands on you, I just got a little nervous.” She rubs your thigh again and kisses you softly this time. You both end up sitting there just making out on her counter top, her hands on your waist, your fingers in her hair tangling her braid. She pauses again. You whimper a little at the loss of her lips. “I-I’m sorry, did you wanna eat first?”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah of course!” She kisses your forehead and lifts you off the counter again setting you down. “Go sit on the couch pretty girl. I’ll be done in a sec.” She says kissing your cheek and then your lips.

A hour passes you and Abby are on her couch, watching this cheesy 2000s movie drinking wine, eating the delicious food she made. She made chicken with vegetables and rice. She calls it a very “high protein meal?” But you don’t even care you just really enjoy being in her company. She’s talking about how Nora use to be in college, and how she almost failed half her classes but Nora helped her out so much that she ended up passing. She also talks about her first college boyfriend Owen and how he got a girl pregnant and left her for the girl; which was reasonable, he still cheated on her, but she said they still remain friends tho. You tell about your dating experiences also, and your college dorm mates, and Highschool bullies throughout the years.

You and Abby are laughing so much your stomach hurts, she keeps bringing up her friend group and experiences she’s had.

You’re almost completely buzzed. You forgot how much of a light weight you are when it comes to alcohol, but you still remain completely alert. You both finish eating and you’re snuggling up to her, your back on her chest and her hands are wrapped around your stomach, she keeps gripping it and messaging your muffin top. “What are you doiiinggg.” You say. “Nothing, just admiring you.” She rubs your thigh and your inner thigh, moving your legs open a little. You’re focusing on the movie a little bit, but you can’t cause you feel her hands on your body again, which is making you heat up. She begins kissing the back of your neck, and you tilt your head. You let out a little whimper again as you feel her hands in button your jeans. “Abby..” you whimper. “Yeahh..” she whispers into your ear kissing your cheek. Your thighs clench feeling her breath on your ear. “Hehe, what are you doing?” You giggle. “Does it bother you?” She says rubbing your thigh up and down, smirking. You whimper. “N-no.” You say stuttering. “Focus on the movie, yeah?” She unzips your pants as your eyes are focused on the movie. Her fingers explore your underwear. She jolts a little. “Someone’s soaked. All for me?” She whispers in your ear again, making you clench at nothing. “Th-the way you’ve been teasing me all night, I-i.” “Shhh shh, I said focus on the movie.” She says softly. Her fingers circle your clit and your back arches. “Abby.. fuck.” She begins exploring your shirt and she lifts it up in one quick swoop, she caresses your bra and slips her hand in the cup and rubs your nipples. “O-oh my g-god.” Your eyes are still on the movie. “That’s right. Focus on the movie pretty girl.” She says rubbing your clit faster. She begins moving one finger down to your entrance. She circles her movement a little. “One.. or you think you can take two?” She whispers in your ear and begins kissing your neck a bit harsh, sucking on your skin. You can barely breathe, it’s so much already and all she’s doing is rubbing your clit. “…t-two..” you say as you try to keep your eyes open. Your chest is heaving so much, she’s pinching your nipple. Two of her fingers slip into you and you let out a moan. “You like that don’t you pretty?” She says pulling your hair around your shoulder to kiss more of your neck, “Y-yeah.” She’s continues sucking on your neck and her fingers are moving so slow, it’s killing you, she’s hitting your spot so perfect tho, you think you’re gonna cum soon. “Abby..” “Yeah..” She says chucking softly. All you have is her on your mind. Her breathe on your neck, your hand gripping her forearm as she fingers you slowly. “I think I’m gonna..c-cum.” “Already?” She says.

Her movements speed up a little. “Are you gonna cum for me?” “Yyyeaahhhh.” You say moaning, you almost sound like a porn star. Her fingers are speeding up so fast, and her movements on your clit speed up also. She’s whispering so many praises in your ear it’s driving you crazy. “You’re such a good girl, Who’s my pretty girl? Are you gonna cum for me baby?” She’s whispering so softly, buts it’s so loud in your ear. Her fingers are hitting your g-spot so perfectly, your hips are moving so much, you’re chasing your high. You’re clenching around her finger so much. “Cum for me pretty.” You let go. Squirting all over her fingers, your jeans are soaked. Her fingers and still moving so fast in and out of you, but she slows down. Your chest is heaving so much. Your head collapses into her chest and you look up at her. Forehead sweating. The grip you have on her arm untightens. “S-sorry was that to much?” She says. “N-no i liked it.” You say waving your hands up. “…Abby that was amazing.” You flip over and straddle her hips with your thighs and kiss her lips softly. You’re completely dazed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She says giggling and pressing her forehead against yours.

She gets you cleaned up. You’re wearing her shirt and a couple of her boxers, luckily she has some over sized ones that’s she’s stretched out I’ve the years a little. They are still a bit tight tho, but you didn’t bring any underwear; cause you never thought it would get to this. Abby comes out wearing her own black boxers and the same black tank.

You’re in her bed with her and she’s cuddling you. Rubbing circles into your back. “Might be too late, but did you wanna spend the night? Cause I could drive you home?” You look up at her. “Abby you just fingered me on your couch, and you’re asking if I wanna spend the night?” She pushes the pillow in your face. “Shut up.” You both laugh and the laughs turn into deep convos and sleepy convos. You spend the night at her place. You can’t wait to see where this leads.

Thank you guys for reading!! Chapter 4 will be soon! <3

🩷 Tags! @marvelwomen-simp @ccinnamongrl @t3bbyb3ar 🩷

#abby anderson #abby tlou #the last of us #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abbytlou #muscle mommy abby #abby the last of us

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mandalhoerian · 8 days ago

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CELEBRATION POST! First of all, THANK YOU for sticking around to witness whatever chaos I’m putting out into the world. And welcome to the 200 new people who somehow decided to vibe with me after my love & deepspace posting streak! (Yes, I counted. I had 940 before I started lads-posting. That’s wild.)

Not to get too sappy, but seeing the love for my first rafayel fic literally within DAYS gave me the confidence to put more of my brainworms into the world. I used to just daydream about these ideas while blasting my playlists, but now I’m like,,,,, actually writing them down because YOU GUYS make me feel so valid LMFAO 😭💞

Anyway, here’s what I’m cooking up next because why not celebrate by oversharing:

1) You actually got sacrificed for Rafayel to ascend and Lemuria to prosper AU. I call this one "Ascended Rafayel" in honor of Astarion LMAO.

In which you randomly awaken on the shore, surrounded by people fussing about the Sea God's divine message to have his most devout and beloved follower be treated like a queen. You have no idea why any of this is happening, you don't even worship the sea god. Your last memory is getting thrown overboard. Yet here you are, in just a few days, living paradise on earth in an overwater bungalow system, revered because it's apparently you who's the source of the blessings. There's something terribly wrong with you, though. You don't feel the same. Too heartless, unfeeling, hollow, only left with a gut feeling that your entire life was taken away from you, and there's nothing but a dull, aching resentment left in you for the sea and the god you're being favored by -- and you want to escape this place.

Inspired by that one "get in the water" fanart of long-haired rafayel i've seen but can't find anymore (you can probably guess from this alone where this fic is going)😭

2) canon divergence of addictive pain anectode

in which i give rafayel stalking the mc to her college and starting to give lectures there as a guest professor the energy it deserves. still trying to figure out if i should have the reader just be a student or an undergraduate ta

3) sylus making a random appearance here. concept inspired by manhwas "villainess maker" and "a villainess for the tyrant"

in which sylus "trains" the very normal, timid, kindhearted reader with has a rare fear inducement evol to become his villainess (trophy) wife (to use her as an asset, yes, bc someone crazier than him won't be used as his weakness) who can bring people down to their knees with just a look.

the problem is, she's REALLY soft-hearted and makes herself small because of the isolation and the nasty treatment she's received her whole life. she has suffered from the sheer uncontrollable and debilitating nature of this evol since it's always constantly on, like even animals won't go near her, but sylus is literally the first person to not be affected by this. they're truly kindred spirits together and the cutest in my head. an empowerment fic lowkey

4) possibility of making other installments of nightly rendezvous cards bc ideas are rotting in my head. especially temperature play for zayne

Again, thank you for being here, for hyping me up, and for making this little corner of the internet feel like home !! I love you all sm, and I hope you’re as excited for what’s next as I am

Here’s to more fics and more brainrot <3

#shai.txt #i want to write for caleb too but i've only finished the main story and havent looked at his extra content yet #im like that too many plates meme idk what to focus on #ah the blessing and curse of inspiration

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katzkinder · 6 months ago

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Okay so the dichotomy between your Sakuya Cherry Bomb idea and Yarra's Kuro vtuber is hilarious to me because like.

Sakuya: Fans only know him as Cherry Bomb and don't know anything about him outside of his music.

Kuro: Vtuber Lore is literally just his life but it should be fine because people dont know vampires are real.

I FUCKING FOUND IT. LINK TO THE CHERRY BOMB POST 🍒💣

Anyway one of the reasons for the difference is I headcanon Sakuya as being a 90s kid! as in, he died in the 90s--

This, naturally, makes him a lot more wary about the info he puts out there on the internet, but it also means his internet experience was molded by Ye Olden Days when creators were a lot less available to their fanbases and interacted with them very little, if at all.

He doesn't even have a fanart hub, and his icon is just a random street in tokyo he thought looked nice.

His classmates REALLY do not get why Sakuya is so paranoid, so Sakuya shows them how easy it would be for a super dedicated person to figure out exactly where Mahiru’s apartment is using his cooking tutorial videos (uploaded under the channel name "Sunny Mama" courtesy of Kuro) and basic realtor research

Things like Mahiru apologizing for any construction noise and using the time stamp to figure out which apartment complexes had construction in their vicinity during that time, floor plans, how even his living situation and the model of his appliances can all be used to narrow down the area he lives in.

“He lives with his uncle and the camera man, which means at least two rooms. We can see the stove top and the front of the oven, so I take a screenshot of that and… Ah, this is the brand. Now I research the model. Okay, I have two components. He mentions that he walks to school, so that’s a two bedroom apartment in Tokyo within walking distance of a high school with good quality appliances, which means I can rule out a lot of run down complexes. This grocery bag was in frame during this video, and a high school kid Mahiru’s age wouldn’t have a license, so now I add that name of the store to my list of things I know are around the complex because when you go grocery shopping, you don’t want to carry the bags a long distance home…”

The faces of his friends are full of horror.

"And that’s not even getting into the drinking with uncle segment that happens in their living room, with full view of the balcony because Mahiru hates the place getting musty so he leaves the curtains open a lot. Knowing what buildings are viewable from there can also tell someone where a place is, especially if you’re thorough enough to consider the angle you’re seeing everything at.” Sakuya glances up and closes his laptop. “So, yeah.”

Mahiru makes a Noise, fretting, "Wait, so what do I do now??"

Sakuya feels a little bad for scaring his friend, but it's for his own good! “Keep your curtains closed, make sure the screws in your door frame are the really long kind to prevent someone from just kicking the door off its hinges, don’t get electronic locks because it’s stupid easy to trick those into unlocking, and just… Be more careful? Wear a mask from now on and go back and edit footage to remove your face from the visible shot. Try and keep things focused on your hands instead, maybe…”

"Should I get rid of the drinking with uncle part? Since that always focuses on Uncle Tooru's reactions..."

"He’s a grown up and an old man. Nobody’s going to be interested in pulling him into a windowless white van unless it’s those creep show friends of his…”

"Wh--Why would anyone be interested in pulling me into a windowless white van?!"

"Sex trafficking."

"Eh?"

"Or stealing your organs."

"Eh?"

“Or even just some obsessive pervert who’s built up some kind of fantasy in their head that you’re fated for one another but you just don’t realize it yet.”

"What."

As you can tell. Yeah. Sakuya really internalized those 90s internet safety psas. He's also well acquainted with the idea of a very dedicated stalker for. Reasons.

Tsubaki voice: that boy just isn't right...

#Anonymous #asks #servamp #thanks for the ask nonny!!#kat's katerwauling #pawprints #sakuya watanuki #mahiru shirota

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daughterofthemuse · 4 months ago

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Thoughts on 'Wrath of the Triple Goddess'

General Thoughts

This book was a lot of fun.

Nope was the cutest ever

Hecate's house is WILD. The knockers? The aesthetic choices? The BATHROOMS? She 1000% committed to the bit

Some ppl have said that the recent Riordanverse books have had themes. (Roughly speaking,) 'The Sun and the Star' was about accepting yourself and moving through trauma, and 'Chalice of the Gods' was about growing up, aging and embracing the changes that come with it (kinda ironic for focusing on a character who is known for turning 17 every year). I thought 'Wrath of the Triple Goddess' could have been about grief and family, but it's actually abt choices and regrets. Bc ofc the book abt Ἑκάτη (Hecate), the goddess of crossroads, would be abt choices.

Fanart I want to see

The Halloween costumes Percy, Grove & Annabeth wore

Human!Grover, Owl-a-beth & Octo-Percy

The Campers' Halloween costumes

Page-by-page notes that I took (with quotes)

I'm always careful not to look at my mom's screen while she's writing, because a) I know it makes her nervous, b) the floating words make me queasy, and c) I can't help wondering if she's writing a character based on me. Maybe that sounds self-centered, but the idea of anybody writing a book about me makes me super paranoid. (pg 16)

Bud, I'm sorry, but it's a decade and a half too late for that

She knew exactly what I was saying, even if Dave and Hana didn't. "She can't do all your homework for you, dude," Hana said. "Yeah, she has to do our homework," Dave said. "Ugh, you two," Annabeth said, but she gave them a smile. "Okay, Jackson, I can spare you a few minutes, Come on." She hauled me up and led me out of the library, Paul and Hana whispering behind our backs, (pg 24)

Oh look, surprise name change! (/j)

Then his eyes drifted up to the gargoyles on the roof. "Oh, wow." "I know, spooky," Annabeth agreed. Grover scratched his goatee. "I was going to say the one on the left looks like my Aunt Helena. But guess that's the same thing." (pg 32)

Grover's Aunt Helena is probably a harpy / nasty wind Spirit

I'd barely been able to master numbers and colors in Spanish, even with my friend Leo Valdez as a tutor. (pg 35)

Rick is making himself plotholes. Percy is being tutored in Spanish by the missing Leo. It's only Chapter 4!

We had some trouble on Third Avenue when Hecuba decided attack a Lil Zeus Greek food cart, but I managed to pull her off before she killed the cook or devoured his meat supply. Dude wasn't too happy. He yelled something in Greek at me--maybe Please control your rhinoceros--but I couldn't be too mad at Hecuba. For one thing, the food smelled good. For another, anything labeled Zeus sent me into attack mode, too. (pg 64)

Lil Zeus Greek food cart? a) Percy should have understood more of the Greek dude's language, unless he did actually think the hellhound was a rhino and b) fair on attacking it

I took out Riptide. With the tip of the blade, I etched a message on the sidewalk: Went to Gramercy. That was another trick I'd only learned in the last month. One day when I was bored, sitting on a sidewalk while my mom shopped for clothes for her first author signing, I discovered that Riptide could sketch glowing lines on asphalt that no regular mortals could see. The markings lasted about three hours before fading away--less if it rained. It made me wonder why I'd never seen Celestial bronze graffiti around from other demigods. (pg 68)

Riptide can write on the pavement?

He couldn’t have been more than six weeks old. "You want another treat?" I asked him. "Nope!" he barked, which apparently meant Yes, please, I'll take the whole bag. I couldn't help but smile. "Is that your name? Nope?" He tilted his head, maybe thinking about it. "Nope!" "Okay, then that's what I'll call you." He crawled right into my lap. He was heavy--like fifty pounds--and floppy, with ridiculously oversize paws that told me he was going to be a rhino-size hellhound someday. I scratched behind his ears and kept feeding him treats, letting him get used to the sound of my voice. (pg 87)

Percy’s getting a Hellhound puppy that can say nope????

The man who was eating a late breakfast at Dr. Sharma's desk was definitely not Dr. Sharma. His dark hair and beard were flecked with gray. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket, tie, and dress shirt, with a flannel blanket over his lap. His old-fashioned wheel-chair had hand-pushed steel wheels and well-worn black leather armrests. He held a half-eaten bagel in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in other. I registered all these details with perfect clarity, but somehow, I still did not recognize him. (pg 99)

WHAT IS CHIRON DOING AT PERCY’S SCHOOL?

"The Adventures of Mom, Chew Toy, and Alley Boy," Annabeth mused. (pg 115)

pffft! And look, an Oxford comma!

My friend Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, also had the ability. He'd used it once to take me Christmas shopping in Florence. (Long story.) (pg 133)

Nico took Percy Christmas shopping in Florence? I need this story.

“Okay,” I said. “Maybe pack isn’t the right word. I don’t know why Hecate turned you into a hellhound. Gods are weird. I have a friend whose dad once turned her into a tree. Maybe Hecate saved you the only way she knew how. It’s not perfect, but it’s still love.” Hecuba gazed at the ocean—a view she’d probably seen thousands of times when she was a mortal. She’d watched the Greek ships anchor off that coast, ready for war. She’d watched her children die in battle on that rocky beach before the walls of her doomed city. (pg 137)

Is this book abt grief & family?

I frowned. "I didn't figure you for a nightclub guy." "Are you kidding? I can hoof-boogie with the best of them! I've still got that wedding-dress outfit from the Sea of Monsters, too." He sighed. "Maybe someday." (pg 142)

Grover still has his wedding dress?

Pracktical forcery and Potionf for Beginnyng Uferf (pg 144)

Oh look, it's that old-timey font where 'S' is really tall and skinny and kinda looks like an 'f'!

Under this collection was a brass plaque engraved with WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN. I lifted the top of the display case. I picked up a pair of blue-framed glasses that were snapped in half at the bridge. They were the same ones I'd seen in my vision of the child pedaling away from the manse in terror. On the right stem, the initials SEJ were monogrammed in gold. I felt like I had shadow-traveled into a block of ice. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. SEJ. I knew those initials. (pg 145)

SEJ, Sally's initials?

I didn't realize that when he'd said ground himself, he'd meant literally cover himself with the ground. He sat down in a flower bed and started to heap leaves and dirt over his legs. (pg 147) ... Two more tunneled through the leaves and skittered up Grover's legs. Within a minute, there were dozens, maybe hundreds. Honestly, I had no idea. I never had to count squirrels in numbers that high before Grover's torso disappeared under a tidal wave of chittering fur and twitching bushy tails. Somewhere in the mix of brown and gray, I spotted one very large black rat, who quickly disappeared in the sea of its squirrely comrades. (pg 148)

This grounding thing is weird... Could it be a Pan thing?

As he nibbled his cake, I said, "Okay. Tell me." He shrugged listlessly. "It's just... grounding myself like that? It's pretty powerful magic. I can only do it because I'm a Cloven Elder." Grover was too modest. He rarely talked about it, but after the Battle of Manhattan, he'd been promoted to the council of the three most important satyrs in the world, which in my mind made him an elite boss. "It's dangerous?" I guessed. "Oh... nothing I'd worry about," he said. "Not a big deal. It's just when I do that, when I connect with nature on that level, there's always a small chance..." "Yes?" He nibbled more cake. "That I might dissolve into nothing." (pg 151)

Yep, it's a Pan thing. And oh, the grounding thing is like Nico at the end of BoO... okay. This is great /s

And Grover seemed to enjoy being called Cloven Elder. My thoughts started rambling, as they do. I wondered if I should call him CE for short. Did that mean before he became a Cloven Elder he was Grover BCE? This is how my mind works. Welcome to the chaos. (pg 156)

Grover BCE, YES!

The name of the place glittered in pearly white over the door: AEAEA. I guess they'd spent all their money on the storefront decorations and hadn't been able to afford any consonants for their sign. "What is it?" Grover asked. "Not sure," I said. "The name of that place mean anything to you?" Grover tried to pronounce it. "It looks like something Hephaestus might scream when he drops a hammer on his foot." (pg 158)

Αἰαία (Aeaea)? Κίρκη (Circe)????

"My name is Filomena," she said, her jaw clenched. "Aeaea was my home island. But you don't even remember, do you?" (pg 161)

Dude doesn't remember the last time someone recognized him and accused him of destroying their home, does he?

A noxious purple fog started to rise around us. I recovered my senses, yelled, "Aeaea!" (because it was on my mind) and blasted the potion fog right back at Filomena. "Ack!" she complained, now speckled head to toe in magical whatever-it-was. "How dare you!" (pg 162)

Poison manipulation again????

"I take it you didn’t recognize the naiads?" "From where?" Grover asked. "You weren't with us," Annabeth told him. "You were stuck in a Cyclops's cave at the time." Grover shivered. "The Sea of Monsters." "Yep. The naiads are from the island of Aeaea." I rubbed my sore neck. "I think I would've remembered a name like Aeaea." Annabeth considered that. "Actually, you're right. I don't thínk anyone called it that when we were there. It's another name for Circe's Island." (pg 184) ... "Circe had four main handmaidens," Annabeth said. "The Aeaean nymphs. They were responsible for preparing her potions. I guess when the pirates burned down C.C.'s Spa--" "The naiads came to Manhattan," Grover finished. "And set up competing perfume shops. As one does." (pg 185)

I knew they were from Αἰαία! And Lore drop!

Whenever Annabeth joined the chat, the odds of us doing something idiotic went way down. The odds were never zero, mind you, because I was still in the mix. (pg 186)

"Annabeth joined the chat..." Bro, why. Why did you use that piece of slang?

With the help of one of the costume people, Annabeth had done her hair and makeup like it had been on Circe's Island. She looked incredible, but you don't have to take my word for it. The costume person's exact reaction was "You look incredible." Then she turned to Grover and me and said "Now, these two are are a challenge." We were dressed as Annabeth's servants/bodyguards/loyal gladiators? I'm not even sure, but we weren't rocking the look very well. Grover wore a gladiator's breastplate and a leather kilt sort of of thing, with a big plastic sword at his side. I got dressed like a retiarius--one of those Colosseum fighters with the weighted nets and the tridents. The trident seemed a little on the nose for me, but it wasn't my biggest complaint. My "armor" was basically an oversize loincloth with a thick leather belt, sandals, and a weird shield-sleeve thing on my left arm that reminded me of a pizza pan. This meant I would basically be walking around Manhattan in late October in my underwear. Annabeth added a big helmet with a faceplate so nobody would recognize me unless they literally got up in my grill. (pg 187)

I need art of these costumes

23. We Find the Lair of Evil Perfume

Annabeth is doing a ton of amazing work this chapter!

Annabeth responded, "WHOOOO!" (pg 206)

Annabeth, daughter of the Owl Goddess, hooted. It only took her 24 books and 5 years

I raised my hands--except I didn't have hands anymore. Where my arms used to be were eight thick purple tentacles lined with pink suction cups. One tentacle was curled around Riptide. I was so shocked I loosened my hold, letting the blade drop. "Oh.." I wanted to throw up. No offense to octopuses. I've had some great conversations with octopuses. But I didn't want to have their tentacles. My new appendages felt wet and slimy. Powerful muscles rippled under the skin. The suckers clasped and unclasped, smelling the air, searching for something to grip. "This is bad." (pg 207)

Well octo-Percy is... interesting

He was staring down at his legs and weeping. Where his furry goat hindquarters had been, there was bare skin, forward-articulating knees, and instead of hooves... feet. Five-toed feet not too different from mine. "Human," he sniffled. "That's the worst kind of beast!" (pg 207 & 208)

Oh, poor Grover. Also... very interesting "humans are the worst kind of beast"

Annabeth turned her head 180 degrees and shrieked at the nymph. "AWK!" (pg 208)

180-degree head turn from Annabeth!

Grover shuffed awkwardly toward Daedra. "How do you walk on these? They're so tender! Ouch. Ouch. Ouch." (pg 209)

We don't normally walk barefoot. And I want art of human!Grover

I saw a young woman in tattered brown robes. She carried a leather pack over one shoulder, loaded with medicinal plants, vials, salves, and scrolls. It was her life's work--all she could salvage when the Colossians chased her out of their city. She struggled up a steep mountain path, occasionally stopping to grip her stomach, crying out in pain. Tears streaked her face, smearing the kohl around her eyes so she appeared to have a black mask. (pg 215)

Gale Lore drop? Poor Gale!

I'd been wrong about Hecate. She hadn't turned Gale into a polecat out of jealousy. The reason was worse. She'd empathized. She'd lacked faith that Gale could survive on her magical talents alone. Hecate of all people knew how the world saw witches. She'd pitied Gale, admired her, and yes, maybe even feared her a little, but she could not imagine a mere human succeeding when she, a goddess, had failed. So Gale had to cease being human. (pg 218)

Poor Hecate too. Dam patriarchy & fear of the unknown

And no way did I want to be around when orange goo started dripping through Hades's palace ceiling. I'd met his plumbers. They tended to solve all his problems with fery whips. (pg 219)

The Kindly Ones aren't plumbers, Percy

I'll say it again: thank the gods for Halloween. I doubt any amount of Mist could have hidden Owl-a-beth and Octo-Percy from the curious eyes of mortals as we fled, especially since my tentacles kept slapping passers by for no particular reason. Because it was Halloween, though, most people would think, Wow, those costumes are incredible, and that third guy is fully human! Amazing! (pg 222)

Yeah, Halloween does a lot for hiding mythical stuff. Cuts both ways tho

Annabeth gagged. Her beak opened wide. Her owl eyes got even larger. Her crown feathers stood on end like blades. She brought her hands to her throat—the universal sign for choking. I panicked. Would the Heimlich maneuver work on a half human, half raptor? I only had octopus tentacles, but I hustled behind her and did my best to find her sternum the way my fourth-grade health teacher had taught us. I thrust upward into her diaphragm. COUGH! An owl pellet the size of a melon shot from her throat and bounced off the opposite wall. She doubled over, breathing heavily. When she straightened again, she was normal Annabeth—human face, human hair with the scent of her usual apple shampoo. (pg 225)

Coughing that up must've been painful. And I'm pretty sure the Heimlich maneuver isn't recommended anymore

Grover seemed to follow my thoughts. “Tomorrow is Halloween. There’s no way three people can fix this mansion before Hecate gets back. (pg 230)

Just ask your friends to help! They're coming for the party, just ask them to arrive early too

I nodded. “I don’t know what happened exactly, but if we’re going to try rebuilding this place with the help of ghosts, then we need to figure it out. Which means I need to talk to SEJ. Sally Estelle Jackson.” (pg 238)

His mum? Or an ancestor? I'm thinking his mum, but the timing makes me think maybe an ancestor

She smiled wistfully, the way she does when she looks at old photographs. “I haven’t since that day. My family made me wear them because I was seeing things…differently.” “Through the Mist.” She’d always been able to do that. Some rare mortals could, but I’d never considered how hard that would’ve been for her as a kid. “They were just trying to help,” she said. “They were worried. When other kids saw a mounted police officer riding down the street, I saw a pegasus. That kind of thing. We used to live near Gramercy Park West. One day, when I was riding my bike down the street, I saw that mansion, shifting and blending into the buildings around it. Those tombstone walls.” (pg 244)

Interesting... what ppl think of clear-sighted ppl

She swallowed. “Hecate ambushed me! She showed up on Olympus and…well, she asked me what I thought of you. I was shocked! She hadn’t spoken to me since 1914! I—I was desperate to impress her. And foolishly… I said you were quite competent.” “Thanks?” “I panicked! And now, if you fail, that means I failed. Oh, she won’t forgive me a second time.” “I still don’t—Wait.” I’m a little slow on the uptake. But when a puzzle finally starts coming together, I can usually finish it without having to bash too many of the pieces into place. “A second time,” I said. “Nineteen fourteen. That’s the last year Hecate ran her magic school. You were part of that?” (pg 247) She shrugged listlessly. “War. It’s always a war. Our students started taking sides, arguing with one another. It escalated from name-calling to violence to potion-flinging.” “Potion-flinging is bad.” (pg 248)

Ofc WW1 made the school close, and poor Εὐδώρη (Eudora)

I took one more look around the shattered great room. I felt like I was forgetting something important. (pg 258)

Locking the door, I'm pretty sure

Grover and I exchanged a panicked look. If Annabeth was admitting she’d made a mistake, we were in serious trouble. All heroes had fatal flaws. Annabeth’s was pride. She always aimed as high as possible, confident she could go even higher. Most of the time, she was right. But calling for help after one block? The situation had to be desperate for her to swallow her pride like that. Then I remembered why fatal flaws were called fatal. We couldn’t let her get worn-out so soon. She was the only one who could direct the ghosts to rebuild the house properly. “Let me take the torches,” I said. (pg 267)

Annabeth’s fatal flaw is pride, yours is loyalty, Percy. You taking them could go just as badly, with you not passing them to anyone else

My last shot was a miss. Black spots danced in my eyes. I crumpled to my knees, and the torch fell out of my hand. (pg 276)

Oh schist

I knew I’d forgotten something important—again. We’d invited our friends to a Halloween party tonight and never canceled it. You see, kids? Absentmindedness can save your life. The side panel door rolled open and costumed demigods poured out. Connor Stoll led the way, wearing a prisoner’s orange jumpsuit with fake manacles on his ankles and wrists. “Dude, your yard decorations are fire!” “They’re real!” I yelled. “Real ghosts!” More demigods emerged from the van—Clovis from the Morpheus cabin, wearing a nightgown, nightcap, and slippers, which was not very different from how he usually lounged at camp; Harley from Hephaestus, the youngest of our campers, encased in a Celestial bronze Iron Man suit he’d probably made himself; Valentina Diaz from Aphrodite, dressed in a black 1940s evening gown with white gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and twenty different strings of pearls around her neck. Valentina scanned the ghostly horde. “Gross. Can we fight them?” “Yes, please!” Annabeth yelled from the porch. Our friends charged into battle. (pg 292)

I said his friends could help. Except they're helping with ghosts ig

And Rick, Clovis is a son of Ὕπνος (Hypnos), we don't have a Μορφεύς (Morpheus) Cabin

The horse freaked out and whinnied, Why am I flying? (pg 297)

Poor police horse

There should be a rule that goddesses can never come home before 8:00 a.m. Hecate blazed into the mansion at exactly 5:32. (pg 304)

Eugh, what a wake-up time

Sometimes folks at camp asked if I avoided eating seafood because I was the son of Poseidon and could talk to fish or whatever. I always answered that no, I ate fish. Have you ever talked to one? They don’t have a lot to say. Mostly it boils down to Are you food? Am I food? Eating them is the only way to answer the question. (pg 319)

We have an answer to the Percy-seafood question. Tho he'll probably be off calamari for a while

Obviously, I don’t consume the smart species like octopuses, dolphins, sharks, and manta rays. (pg 319)

Oh, so no calamari at all. Good to know

#musesdaughter speaks #musesdaughter rambles #wrath of the triple goddess #wrath of the triple goddess spoilers #wottg #wottg spoilers #rick riordan #riordanverse #rrverse #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #ik this is two weeks late #but i had to get all the quotes for context

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