#getting less and less sane in the club | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohdeerfully · 9 months ago

Note

hiii! this is my first request on tumblr but i jus love alastor sm and there is NOT enough fics for me out there. so im asking u❤️

what abt alastor being jealous of someone else in the hotel? for example: angel dust, he puts on music and you two are dancing with eachother happily not noticing the red eyed demon with a tight grin. 🥰

Hii! Honestly after writing this I realized I didn't follow the prompt exactly, less jealousy and more Alastor being overprotective. Oh well! Hope you like it anyway :D!

Be Back Soon (i)

alastor x reader (fluff? alastor is just overprotective) part i TW: Cursing/Angel existing if you want tagged in the next part, lmk! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Your fingers dragged down the skin around your eyes as you let out a long sight, sitting at Husk’s bar with shoulders propped on the cold counter. What a day it had been, running around in the typical chaos of the hotel as Charlie tried to get some group bonding activities finished. It was getting late, and you just finally had a moment of peace.

“‘Ey, toots!” The chipper voice broke your peace and you couldn’t help it when another audible sigh escaped you. The culprit of the broken science paid no mind.

Turning your head, you narrowed your eyes and made eye contact with the lanky pink spider. You were a little salty at him in particular, being one of the main catalysts to the everyday insanity. He had an easy grin played upon his lips as he stared back down at you with his multicolored eyes, one pair of arms on his hips that jutted out a little too unnaturally in a mischievous pose. His golden tooth glinted under his light grin with a similar air of “hey I’m up to no good right now.”

“You look fuckin’ tired!” He barked a laugh, dramatically squeezing his eyes shut in a theatrical show of laughing in your face. It really wasn’t that funny, and you couldn’t stop the frown that touched your lips as you watched him. He took pride in being the way he was. Annoying.

“No thanks to you, Angel,” You clipped back. You turned your head to watch Husk, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He had become an expert in ignoring the spider demon’s presence, which was how he managed to stay sane with said demon’s constant flirting and sexual nature.

“Anyway,” He waves away your targeted words with a wave of his hands as his eyes roll up. “I was thinkin’ we get outta here for the night? Me and Cherri were gonna have a “girl’s night.”” You briefly thought about the humor in Angel admitting to being ‘one of the girls,’ but pushed the thought away to consider his invitation. “It wouldn’t hurt ta get some fresh air. This place is real stuffy sometimes, and a huge snooze fest,” he persuaded. He rested his face on one pair of hands, fingers laced under his chin, as he leaned against the bartop in anticipation for your answer.

You purse your lips in thought. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You didn’t go out clubbing a lot, and with Angel and Cherri with you surely nothing wrong would happen. They looked out for their friends, and you would (maybe regretfully) consider yourself Angel’s friend. You glanced at Husk for a moment, as if looking for advice, but his eyes remained close and his lips had an annoyed curl. Maybe you should get out of his hair.

“Okay, okay,” You grinned, a little sheepishly. While you couldn’t really consider ‘fresh air’ to be a feature of Hell, you agreed that you needed to just Get Out of this place. Running errands for Charlie got mundane, even with all the strange characters that cycled through the place. One tends to get used to the chaos.

Angel stretched his arms up in a cheer, which earned a one-eyed, aggravated look from Husk. He uttered something under his breath before grabbing a bottle and walking to the other corner.

“Alright, sweet lips,” Angel cooed at you. “Let's get you dressed! You got anything decent up in your closet?”

Your hand found its way to the back of your neck as you answered sheepishly, “Eh, not really… At least, not for a night out. I don’t really do much outside of the Hotel.” Angel frowned at the response, tapping his chin in thought.

“Lemme take a look,” With a swipe of his arm, your hand was suddenly being held as he dragged you up the steps toward the floor of your room.

Walking down at the same time, you briskly passed by Alastor, who had his eyes closed and a hum in his mouth. His blazing red eyes peered open as you and Angel rushed past him, a quizzical furrow in his brow seeing the connection between your hands. You shot him a shy grin and craned your head back to shout a quick ‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ before you disappeared around the bend of the stairs.

You didn’t miss the dark gleam in his eyes.

Angel, in an attempt to dramatically burst through your door, slammed full body into the entrance. “Ah- the hell?” He cried, roughly jiggling the handle.

“I keep it locked,” you snickered at him and the disheveled look in his usually preened hair. You saw him take his hands to brush it out as you fiddled with the lock, an annoyed mutter of words escaping his lips. The second the door clicked, Angel shoved past you and reattempted his dramatic burst through the entrance with a bit more luck this time around.

He went straight for your closer, rummaging through this and that. What a breach of privacy, this guy is, you thought with a strained smile as you stepped up next to him to try to guide him through your very Ordinary and Plain clothes.

You felt a prickling sensation on your skin, and you swear you heard a frequency of low static, but when you whipped your head around nothing stood there. Did that shadow just move?

Shaking your head, you looked at the piece Angel held proudly in his hands, one pair of arms gripping the top and the second pair pulling the bottom out to really get a full inspection.

It was incredibly simple, but still a bit more revealing than anything you were used to wearing. A deep red top, so cropped it may as well be a sporty bra, with a couple eye-catching accents of rhinestones. Connected with thin straps was a similarly tight pair of booty shorts. Your face flushed at the thought of wearing this. It was practically lingerie.

“Isn’t it a bit, uh, tacky?” You tried in an attempt to dissuade him from this getup. He acted offended, one hand going and pressing against his fluffed chest. You didn’t miss the way he took this as an opportunity and pressed up against himself to perk up his mass of chest fur.

“Babe, I wear shit like this all the time! You tellin’ me,” He started a rant, shaking the clothes in a fit of mock rage. “You tellin’ me I’m tacky? Hah! Me! Angel Dust!” He wiped away a fake tear in his laughter.

Your face flushed again looking at the getup. With a defeated mutter you swiped it from his hands and trekked painfully slowly to the restroom. You ignored Angel’s urgency for you to ‘hurry the hell up’ because it was almost time to get going.

You slowly stripped yourself of your day clothes, gingerly stepping through the tight shorts and tucking your arms through the straps of the top. You didn’t even remember buying this thing, it had been stuffed far in the back of your closet. You couldn’t help the feeling of dread thinking about the other embarrassing things Angel might have seen in there. Though, you doubt anything could phase that guy.

You had to admit, looking at your reflection, that it did accentuate your curves, even if you didn’t have much to begin with. The rhinestone accents glittered in the bathroom light, obviously designed in a way to bring attention to the chest. The straps that connect the two pieces fit snugly against your exposed torso. You were suddenly glad Hell never got that cold.

“Almost ready!” You snapped at Angel calling from the other side of the door. You quickly threw on some touches of makeup, trying your best to compliment the shades of your outfit and adding some glittery makeup around your eyes. You quickly dragged your fingers through your hair to style it comfortably.

You ripped open your door just as fists started banging on it. Angel stood there with two arms raised, stopped midair to keep himself from decking you in the head. You glared up at him, trying to maintain your earlier sourness to hide the fact that the outfit had grown on you.

“Hey, sexy lady!” Angel teasingly leaned himself against the doorframe with a smirk. “Let’s fuckin’ go! You took too damn long! Cherri hates waitin’.”

Grabbing your hand again, he ushered you out of the room. As you raced down the stairs, you tried to continuously preen your hair to keep it from flying out of shape as Angel practically drug you down each step.

He slowed at the bottom, releasing your hand, and stepping towards Husk’s bar to aggravate and flirt with the cat one last time before heading out. You tuned out his sexual innuendoes as you tried to glance over yourself one last time.

“My, what a dame you are!” Alastor’s recognizably radio-afflicted voice ripped your attention away from picking at a loose rhinestone. He stood over you, a slight bend in his waist and an unnatural crane in his neck. His smile was there, but tight and uneasily wide as he examined you through squinted eyes. He leaned his weight against his cane.

Swallowing your unease, you examined his expression. You knew Alastor didn’t care for such… promiscuous outfits. Especially on what he considered his. You knew his compliment was satirical, and you didn’t miss that glint of anger flash through his expression.

“Heyy, Al,” You drew out your words, unintentionally accentuating the awkward tone between the two of you. He paid no mind, keeping up that seemingly cheerful grin of his as he just… stared at you. His fingers tapped impatiently on the radio of his cane, each tap bringing a warp to the frequency that always surrounded him. “I’m going out with Angel tonight. Y’know… to get some air…”

“My dear,” His eyes closed in a laugh and he straightened himself out. “Why would you ever go out there for fresh air? Now, you know those demons would just eat you right up.” A dark sneer infected his smile, lips curling and exposing the line of his black gums.

“‘Ey c’mon, Smiles,” Angel stepped up next to you and lazily threw an arm over your shoulder. You saw that sneer only deepen as Alastor watched the spider get way too close to you. “Give ‘er a break! She’s always runnin’ around doin’ shit for this bum-ass hotel! It makes her… boring!”

You didn’t know whether or not to appreciate Angel both defending and insulting you. You decided to just ignore his comments as you watched Alastor’s expression get darker and more sinister. You felt a cold sweat prickle at your neck as that static-y frequency of his became more prominent and aggressive as his eyes swept over the two of you, lingering on your exposed abdomen with a frustrated twitch in his brow.

“Why, of course!” He suddenly cheered, brandishing his hands to his side in a slight bow. “But…” He stepped towards you, looming over you. You felt that nervous tickle again. His right hand raised and, with a quick motion, a fairly modest jacket materialized around your shoulders. “All better! Wouldn’t want greedy eyes seeing what’s mine!”

How bold, you thought. He was from the ‘30s, though, and very old fashioned. It made sense that immodest wear bothered him. Plus, you looked down at the jacket. It had a similar color scheme, and was light enough to not be too warm. At least it goes with my outfit. How sweet.

You felt a bit giddy at the permission Alastor had given you–not that you needed it. (You did). You’re a grown ass adult. (It doesn’t matter). You shot him a smile of thanks before dashing out the door, meeting Cherri who had been frequently laying on the car horn for you to Hurry the Fuck Up.

Before Angel Dust could follow, a tight grip on one of his wrists stopped him in his tracks. He hissed, yanking his arm but to no avail. Alastor’s grab was like iron, and his nails began to dig into Angel’s skin.

“Hey you fuck, let me go! I gotta get out there before Cherri starts blowin’ this shit up!”

Alastor pulled Angel in closer, a sneer-like grin crossing his expression. There was a maddening look in his glowing red eyes.

“If she comes home with even the smallest scrape,” He said in a low tone, the garble of his radio slightly distorting his voice. “I’m going to make you wish you never came to this Hazbin Hotel.”

Alastor’s grip didn’t yield as Angel tried again in a futile attempt to release himself. He had a nervous laugh in his voice as he tried to act unintimidated by the Radio Demon’s threat.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you creepy red fuck,” He gruffed back, “Me an’ Cherri will stick right by her. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’.” Alastor’s expression shifted in an instant, his cheerful grin reappearing. He stood up straight and smiled down at Angel. “Good man! Now, don’t be too long,” He shooed Angel out of the lobby, who was more than glad to get the fuck out of there. He heard a faint ‘I’ll be watching’ from behind as he slammed the car door shut, muttering curses under his breath.

He knew Alastor would send that damn shadow of his to keep a close eye, so why the fuck did Angel have to babysit you in the first place? Plus, you weren’t some weak, naive fool. Whatever. He knew Alastor would take any excuse to cause some entertaining mayhem.

He sighed as he looked at you, who had a nervous but excited grin as Cherri rambled and cursed about something.

Maybe he shouldn’t have invited you out. He knew he was in for a long, stressful night. Good thing there would be a bar.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust #ohdeerfully #cursing #fluff #alastor is overprotective #reader isnt weak tho #he just cares too much i think

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certifiedfreec · 8 months ago

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・❥・close - gojo satoru x f!reader (crossposted on ao3!) ・❥・

⊹ oh nooo you’re trapped in a hotel room with gojo… and there’s only one bed… ahhhhh

⊹ 18+, smut, frenemies to lovers, a ridiculous amount of banter

⊹ word count: 9.8k (i’m so normal about him lol…)

“Well fuck.”

Mouth agape, you stand tiredly beside your overly cheeky partner-in-exorcises, surveying the last available hotel suite that’s closest to your current assignment. Cramped could describe it if you’re feeling generous, as the sparse amenities make the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room look like a California King. The overblown stock photos of generic flowers hanging haphazardly above the bed are nearly mocking the otherwise drab room, and the dim lighting makes it all look more dingy than romantic given the scenario you’re in.

One bed left in this overbooked “hotel…” This has to be a fever dream.

“I call the left side!”

Said partner, Satoru Gojo, is oblivious to your inner turmoil as he languidly steps into the room with his singsong tone, surveying what little it has to offer with an otherwise calm expression. God, this guy gets on your nerves, but not for any pertinent or extravagant reason. Really, he just carries himself a little too cockily for your taste, like he’s used to people fawning over him for doing nothing. While you work well together for the most part, there’s something about his presence that just makes you-

“You can take the whole thing,” you grumble dismissively, carefully moving around him to set your backpack down on the warped work desk. You’d sooner sleep in the bathtub even if it was soaking wet, you think.

Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets with how hard they roll when you hear him let out a feigned hum of disappointment. You can sense him studying your every move, even through that stupid blindfold thing he’s always got on.

“Bummer. You scared you’re gonna catch some cooties? I’m not contagious.” Gojo tuts playfully, shaking his black jacket off and tossing it over the back of the chair. “Guess that means more room for me!” He wastes wastes no time in flopping onto the middle of the stiff mattress with a grin, and part of you can’t help but admire- no, simply notice, you tell yourself- how his shockingly white hair and pale skin contrasts the dull, dated comforter. He’s got a white button down on, and you’re tempted to call him a bloodsucking vampire with how translucent he looks. Humming to himself, he reaches for the remote that practically shrinks in his large hands, clicking the clunky TV on and watching it take a few minutes to whir to life.

You’re unsure what to do with yourself, but you’re determined to put some space between the two of you with whatever happens. It’s unfortunate when you realize that you really might not be successful with that endeavor, given your dwarfed hotel room that could trigger any sane person’s claustrophobia. It didn’t help that this guy already took up most of the lackluster room with just his body, either. Your eyes flicker over to your work partner, who appears unnervingly okay with this turn of events. With a deep sigh, you pull out the creaky chair and slump defeatedly onto the desk. You’re careful to scoot to the edge of the chair so your back doesn’t make contact with his resting jacket, and he doesn’t miss your obvious attempt at distance. It’s known by many that he’s always been a huge fan of himself, and you’d be damned if you ever let him think you were part of that club, too.

“Hey, careful with the outerwear.” Gojo’s selectively ignoring your clear discomfort, opting to poke at you anyway because he just does that. “That’s a pricey jacket, y’know.” His face is serene as he’s clicking through the available channels and making his own little noises when each show is less intriguing than the next.

“Right… I’ll try my best,” you reply disinterestedly with a yawn. You rest your face on the cool wood- anything to mentally take yourself out of the painfully tiny space you and this massive human were expected to share for the evening. It’s been a long day of mundane yet necessary work, and apparently the real work is supposed to happen tomorrow. Being instructed last minute to change your stopping point for the day, you were left with no choice but to call around in a new area until you found an option. Gojo simply shrugged and started searching, not even slightly irritated at the change of plans. It irks you how little your colleague is bothered by, well, anything, because it has to be disingenuous at some point, right? Over time you’ve realized that with him, it truly is a brazen confidence- a kind that you decided was more dangerous than reassuring in reference to your line of work. It’s just unnatural- then again, nothing in your field is, so what’s your real issue with him? The question always leaves you befuddled at your core, and now it’s glaring in your face with the close quarters you’re sharing.

After some time spent listening to Gojo’s disjointed chuckles at whatever was playing, you take out your phone to text Shoko about your dreaded situation. This’ll be a long night, you think, grasping at straws to reason that it’s only temporary and that the smell of his spicy cologne will soon fade away from your senses. You have to say though, the scent fits him pretty well…unlike this miniature room you’re both posted up in.

Your eyes betray you when they briefly flit over again at the man lounging across the bed. It’s quite the spectacle, as the ends of his gangly legs and feet are dangling awkwardly over the edge, yet his expression is serene. The word "cute" passes through your mind and you immediately shush it by reflex, but it’s not as strong as the newfound proximity that prompts you to finally tease him in a dry tone: “Jesus, you’re taking up the whole thing and it’s still not enough.”

“Tell me about it.” He’s quick to react to your statement, and you swear you see his broad chest huff with amusement out of your peripheral. “It must be the price to pay when you’re a dreamy, charming, six foot three Jujutsu Sorcerer,” he adds in a lighthearted tone that seeks feigned sympathy. You’re not looking at him anymore, but you can guess that he’s batting the long white eyelashes that decorate his electric blue eyes. Meanwhile, you’re battling a smile.

Shoko’s not answering your SOS texts, so you actually decide to take the bait in the meantime. “You poor thing,” you coo halfheartedly, “It’s just never enough for you.” You shift, draping your arm over the back of the cheap desk chair that warps under your weight.

“You’re so right! I’m glad someone finally understands.” He points a finger at you, clearly pleased that you’re bantering along, and then he rests that same finger on his pointed chin. “Speaking of nothing ever being enough, I’m starving.” He suddenly sits up, making the bed creak with his movement. It’s apparent that his focus has shifted from the lifeless television show to you. “Who delivers around here?”

Gojo’s nonchalant behavior has the opposite effect on you- it’s disconcerting. At the same time, a very quiet part of you wants to warm up to the idea of finding it endearing. Being annoyed by him was all you knew- how could you ever change now?

The noise that escapes him is pure juvenile glee when you wordlessly open up a delivery app on your phone and sling the device over to him, which he catches with ease before scavenging through the limited number of nearby restaurants. If anything, you’ve never seen him so locked in. You hear him murmur his commentary to himself as he swipes through, picking out his order from his spot on the bed (which is basically the whole thing), and then he abruptly stands up with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. Without watching him, you hear his steps move somewhere behind your seat.

“Hey, your girlfriend Shoko is texting you. I had no idea I was such a hot subject! Well, maybe I did.”

Oh shit. The heart that previously resided in your chest has plummeted to your stomach. You completely forgot you’d been virtually begging her for moral support when you first arrived at your shoebox of a room.

You muster all your inner strength to maintain a semblance of cool. “Is she on her way to save me?”

The grin on his face is nearly glowing as he reads your screen. “Hah, you wish. It says, and I quote, ’Sorry I’m just now seeing these! How are you and your “Honored One” doing? I promise he’s not as bad as you think he is, LOL.’”

You can feel all the blood in your body rush to your face as Gojo continues to read the message, who is doing everything to refrain from bursting into a fit of laughter. “’At least he’s not the worst looking, and you guys are gonna have to share a bed anyway. Wink emoji, wink emoji.’”

Your world comes screeching to an ugly halt. In this moment, you remind yourself to never text Shoko while you’re in the same room as him- ever again.

“Oh my god… You’re lying. Stop it!” You feel a wave of sickeningly nervous giggles threaten to rack through your body as you fly out of your rickety seat, marching over to the lanky sorcerer and swiping at him for your phone. He tsks, holding the device up from your reach with a mischievous tilt of his head, and you’re sure that you’ve never been this flushed with humiliation before. His muscled arm holds your phone up revealing the chat, and unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. And his voice? It’s smug, obnoxiously so as he taunts you. “This is so much more interesting than ordering food right now. I think I’m gonna answer her. What should I say?”

“Give it back, Satoru Gojo.” You glower up at him, silently knowing your efforts are futile due to your drastic height difference- and that goddamn Infinity ability of his that he loved to show off.

“Oooh, don’t say my full name. It really scares me,” Gojo gasps mockingly before making a show of squinting up at the screen and beginning to type with his other hand. “Let’s try this.” His fingers begin to dance across the screen. “’Shoko, I think I might be falling for Satoru Gojo, all six foot three of him. We’ve had such a romantic evening-‘"

“Jesus Christ, hand it over already!” You’re reaching your limit with tolerating his antics, body teeming in some liminal space between annoyance and mortification. You stretch up again to try and pluck the phone only to make contact with nothing. Fucking showoff. He’s still got his blindfold on, and you’re unable to see how his eyes are completely shimmering with mirth and self-satisfaction.

“Aaand, sent! I think she’ll like that. Anyway, go ahead and add your order to the cart. It’s on me- I remembered to bring the JuJutsu High credit card this time!” Gojo carries on casually like he hasn’t just done the equivalent of planting an explosive in your text messages, feeling incredibly proud of himself as he plops the phone back into your open palm. Glaring up at him and his resilient grin, you are entirely uninterested in eating any kind of food right now. He thinks it’s kind of cute how quickly your face turns ruby red.

You stare at your violated device, blinking in disbelief before looking back up at him. “You’re a real motherfucker, you know that?” You challenge, though your voice isn’t as hostile as it should be.

His large hands fly up defensively. “Whoa, who says I don’t go for daughters either?”

He’s maddening. How do his students stand him? Your free palm has never moved so fast to your face. Resolving into your clunky self-assigned seat, your butt collides firmly with cold wood. “You’re right. Who don’t you go for?” You huff.

Gojo chuckles with his whole chest as he moves to sprawl out over the miniature bed, returning to the original position he was in before he hijacked your text conversation. With blindfolded eyes focused back on the hazy television screen, his hands lock behind his head as he shrugs indifferently. “Never been a big fan of Geminis, to be honest.”

Unreal. He could talk to you in circles like this forever, and only because he knows he gets under your skin that way. You resign, eyeing your phone screen and scrolling through the restaurant he picked to order delivery from. He’s got quite the spread in the cart, complete with an elaborate dessert that could’ve wiped out your savings account.

“Clearly a fan of cheesecake though, holy shit.” The jab doesn’t come out as mean as you intend it to, and honestly, you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be capable of treating him with this much animosity. You’re already tired, and if you were any more awake you’d realize that your work partner was slowly wearing your guard down, quip by cocky quip.

“Right again. Don’t you just love getting to know me through our intimate time together?”

Shoko is spamming you with an endless barrage of confused and shocked emojis, and you’re far too sleep-deprived to reply. Your entire body flushes at his words as they reverberate in your mind. Intimate is not the right word. No, it shouldn’t be, more like invasive. Right?

“Couldn’t be happier,” you reply curtly, mindlessly picking out whichever menu items are at the top before punching in the room number and credit card info, which was smoothly slid onto the table by Gojo without your prior notice. With your back to him, his gratification is on full display as he pretends to watch whatever crappy show is playing. Winning is his favorite thing in the world, and grating on your nerves is a close second- though really, the two coincide. Part of him wonders how much further he can blur that line.

——————————————————————————————————-

The comically large bag of food is immediately torn open by an eager Gojo the second it lands on the hotel room’s table, and he’s forking together a messy array of sides onto his plate before dragging over a lounge chair from the corner next to yours. He’s sitting far too close for your comfort, but you begrudgingly comply. It wasn’t like he was going to go away anytime soon, even though the night would be so much easier that way. As he shovels his dinner into his mouth, your mind aimlessly ventures as to how he keeps his form so trim with an appetite like that. He’s got to have a strict workout regimen somewhere, though “strict” is a word not often associated with him-

“Hey, your food’s gonna get cold if you keep staring like that.”

Your eyes widen in record time. It’s a hideous realization that you’ve zoned out on watching the renowned sorcerer-turned-temporary-roommate inhale his overpriced dinner, all from being overcome with either exhaustion or acceptance of your cramped situation. At this point, it’s maybe a little of both.

“Sorry,” you mumble, not even caring to articulate a more acidic response. It seems you’re beginning to neutralize into Gojo’s presence, and he mentally takes note of your changing chemistry with him as you quietly stab at your steak bites.

He’s got the perfect opportunity to coo something vain back, like “Don’t apologize, I’d stare too if it were me,” but he doesn’t. He simply keeps eating, sparing you with a less than uncomfortable silence. It’s never been the worst thing between you two given your extensive work history, and you feel yourself soften slightly when the bland hotel room’s air isn’t filled with his assumptive commentary for once. As your plates both get emptier, he feels this sudden need to hold your attention, as you’re less likely to be as combative as you’ve been before. You’re... not so set on hating him.

“You tired?”

Gojo’s two-worded inquiry jars you, almost to the point of choking on your bread. It's something genuine. He closes up one of the empty to-go boxes and shoves it into the takeout bag before pulling out the monstrosity that is his slice of cheesecake. For some reason your heart stammers at how refreshing the possibility of a real conversation with him could actually be.

You’ve got the perfect opportunity to snap something defensive back, like “Yeah, of you,” but you don’t. His shiny eyes shift under the fabric of his blindfold to you, almost prompting you to answer.

“…Yeah, I must be making it pretty obvious,” you say, unintentionally yawning and proving his point. If you were any more relaxed with him, he would’ve told you how cute you looked doing that. You secure your leftovers and start to chuck them into the bag before a large hand suddenly stops you with a “gimme” motion.

“Judging by how easily you’re willing to waste that perfectly good food…it’s not hard to tell,” he prods at you with a grin that you would’ve unnerved you earlier, but at this hour it’s a little more welcoming. Is that a snicker that comes out of you? You hand over the half-eaten order of steak bites to his jubilation, and he’s already popping open the lid to pick one up with his fingers.

Curse your brain in its exhausted state, because it’s nearly hypnotized by his digits. They’re long, dextile, confident somehow. They’re slender and defined, yet capable of serious damage- this you know all too well, and that excites you more than it should. The slice of meat dwarfs in his hold, its shiny reddish myoglobin starting to trickle down his hand and wrist, and it decorates his fine veins and tendons there with its sheen…

No, there’s no way you’re jealous of a piece of meat right now. Did you seriously feel a flutter somewhere that you shouldn’t? Satoru Gojo is literally eating your leftovers with his bare, grubby hands, and you’ve made the fatal error of finding it attractive. Yeah, you’re definitely sleeping in the bathtub tonight before your conflicted mind wanders any further.

He munches on the remainder of your dinner before finally digging into the cheesecake, and you feel blessed for the distraction from your shifting thoughts when you two chat about the mission at hand tomorrow. Is he worried about the curses you’ll be dealing with? No, of course not. According to him, he’s only worried about messing up his hair. Oh, and that expensive jacket you were careful not to touch earlier. With that all that added up, maybe he is nervous about it.

When the conversation dies down, the only sound in the unimpressive hotel room is the game show now playing on the practically vintage television. You quietly scroll your phone while your colleague digs into the soft dessert, stopping suddenly to stick his fork out to you.

“Want a bite? And before you say no, I already told you my cooties aren’t contagious.”

Is this real kindness? You whip your head to face him, studying the glob of caramel-drizzled sweetness, and he’s waving the fork around like a magic wand complete with some convincing “whoosh” sound effects. It’s even more comical with the way he fills his seat, almost like he’s sitting in a doll’s chair. The sight beside you makes you stifle a laugh, and in that moment you realize something: while he constantly irritates you, Satoru Gojo is the brightest, liveliest thing in that damn room. It’s not saying much given the plain wallpaper, dull sheets, and dusty furniture, but it all amounts to him looking pretty good despite your surroundings. If you weren’t sober right now, you’d admit that he looks pretty good just about anywhere. He’s so unfitting, literally, in the drab, cramped space that you almost want to let that very laugh out.

“Eh…I don’t believe you, but even if they weren’t... I couldn’t avoid them in this room anyway,” you joke sleepily, reaching for the fork and pushing the bite of cheesecake past your lips. He’s sitting pretty close, near enough that his spicy cologne still dances in your senses, but if he were any closer you’d swear you could spot him watching how your lips attached so tightly around the plastic silverware. You’re trying desperately to avoid the fact that sharing the fork was like indirectly kissing him, because if you think about it long enough it’ll make you blush all over again. So much for keeping a distance between you two.

You realize something else: he might’ve had a point with his dessert selection. “That is pretty good,” you commentate, handing him back the fork. There’s almost a soft expression on his blindfolded face when he wordlessly pushes the rest of the heaping slice between the two of you, as if the sugary dessert could substitute for a peace treaty. This is how all truces should go, you silently decide.

“Here, have some more in case you die tomorrow,” Gojo tuts with a grin, knowing fully well that you’d be perfectly fine during your assignment the next day. He loves to poke at you, but he can also recognize all the hard work you do. Hell, putting up with him was a full-time job, he could admit.

Your mouth flies open to let out a lighthearted “You asshole,” and you reflexively move to smack his shoulder. You’re even more shocked when your palm actually makes contact with the muscle there..as is he.

Gojo had turned his Infinity off. He must’ve gotten so caught up in wanting to break down your guard this evening that he neglected to remember his own.

“No way, I actually landed a hit on the Satoru Gojo,” you beam. Triumphantly taking another bite of the cheesecake, you feel his gaze train on you. His face-chiseled, you have to say- is conveying something unidentifiable. There’s some surprise and some amusement, but there’s another emotion lingering in the slight rise of his light eyebrows and his relaxed jaw. Something deeper, almost longing. It honestly concerns you for a moment, but he’s quick to recover by slumping backward over the chair, clutching a hand where yours landed just seconds before.

“Abuse! How dare you!” He declares, gripping his shoulder in the throes of his dramatics. “Yaga will be hearing about this. I’m reporting you to the higher-ups!”

“Don’t even. I’ll tell them you sabotaged my technology then,” you counter, waving your phone. “Oh, and that you misused company funds.” You point accusingly at the heap of cheesecake between you both. “And then we’ll both get fired.”

His fists hit the table as he falls forward dramatically. “Ugh…But then we’d end up living here,” he sighs woefully, “and that would be the worst part of all.”

You openly crack up at his refreshing honesty, finally recognizing this room for the shithole that it is, and you feel a newfound warmth spread throughout your chest. “Hmmm… But then we could keep ordering this cheesecake.” Maybe you like bantering with him, you decide.

Gojo chuckles as he stands up from his seat, dragging it back to where it resided in the corner and going along with your bit. “Not if we can’t ‘misuse our funds,’ you tattletale. We better start thinking of a side hustle to keep our lifestyle going.”

There’s a certain weight to “we”s and “our”s that make your heart palpitate just the slightest. It’s like a promise of a future together, a future beyond the uninspiring walls you were forced to rest in tonight. Still in your fit of tired giggles, you close up the remainder of the dessert before sticking it in the hotel room’s loud, antiquated mini fridge. The change of pace between you both is almost freeing, allowing you to consider the idea of actually sleeping somewhat soundly tonight.

“Well, you ponder on that. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” You’re quick to tuck into the bathroom as your laughter dies down, taking your bag with you to switch into the pajamas you packed. All the while, you’re secretly wondering what the sleeping situation is going to look like. You know you’re desperate for rest and given how the evening between you two has warmed a little, the idea of sharing the tiny bed with Gojo is…less than awful to you now. You step out, only to gasp when said man is right outside the door. He’s leaning against the frame with his own bag slung over his shoulder, grinning wickedly and looking all too smug

“My turn, princess. Coming through!”

The novel nickname flutters through your system as he squeezes past you, closing the door in your face with another low chuckle. God, he’s an idiot, you think with a smile, opting to perch in the seat he used for dinner until he returns to the room.

You’re playing a mindless game on your phone when you hear the bathroom door squeak closed, and Gojo plops back into the stiff bed. There’s no shirt on his sculpted body, only a baggy pair of black pajama pants whose waistband barely kisses his narrow hips. Humbled is an understatement when you try not to ogle at the sorcerer before you, whose murder you were secretly plotting just hours before. The skin on your face is akin to the Sun’s surface as you summon every ounce of will not to stare, but his Six Eyes promptly detects the sheepish change in your demeanor.

“So, you sharing this thing with me or what?” He looks over at you in the chair as he stretches over the traverse of the mattress, head propped on one hand while the other toys with his blindfold. “Since you don’t seem to care about my cooties anymore.” The repeated movement of those long, deft fingers looping around the fabric is enough to conjure a flashback to him eating those damn steak bites, and you feel hot all over again. It shouldn’t be suggestive, it really shouldn’t, but the way he’s talking makes it seem like he wants you beside him.

You rest your chin in your hand as you reply with a frown, pretending to think, “Hmmm. That’s gonna be a tight fit.” He snorts in response, something devious but expected on the tip of his tongue, and you realize it as soon as you answer. “Don’t even say it, Gojo.”

He feigns surprise, scooting over and patting the pillow beside him. “Pffft. When have I been known to say anything out of pocket?” He can’t deny the thought of fitting tightly somewhere else, his aqua eyes flashing with a desire he’s never allowed himself to feel for a long time. “Listen princess, you’ve only got two choices for tonight, so pick wisely. There’s somewhere tight-“ he pats the pillow again, -“or somewhere wet.” The thumb previously tugging on the fabric around his eyes jabs toward the bathroom door.

There’s that nickname again. “How erotic,” you snicker, wordlessly complying and letting your exhaustion guide the way to the empty side of the bed. It’s not a ton of space, but you’ll do your best to make it work. Carefully, you slide in to avoid touching him, realizing just how difficult that task is going to be in your limited amount of territory. Should you make a pillow border between you two? No, because then that would take up even more precious space. Maybe if you bunched up some of your blanket-

“Alright! Wait till Shoko hears about this!”

Gojo visibly approves of your choice as he watches you timidly sidle in next to him, wearing that stupidly eager grin on his face and whooping like a sports game attendee. Shooting him a playful glare and an “Oh, enough with you, Six Eyes,” you feel the cool sheets hit your skin, and your body erupts in goosebumps through your thin-ish shirt and shorts. You quickly face the opposite way as him, but not before stealing another glance at his ridiculously toned chest and stomach as he reaches to turn the bedside lamp off. God, he smells so good, like minty toothpaste and his cologne. Darkness abruptly envelops you as your heart pounds, and you have a horrible thought: Who said I wouldn’t be wet sleeping here?

You hear Gojo release a barely audible sigh, almost as if he’s tentative to fall asleep beside you too. He’s not sure who to trust less, you or himself, but he hides his apprehension with a couple more quips as you settle into the compact mattress.

“You have any idea how many people would pay to be where you are right now? You are so lucky.”

He could talk in circles with you again for hours if it meant prolonging the inevitable vulnerability that is unconsciousness beside another person- though a deeper part of him reasons there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe there are other things you could do instead of talk, he thinks, doing little to shake the idea away. It’s kind of nice, way more than nice, the image of you all spread out below him-

The eye roll you respond with is felt by him but not seen in the lightless room. Clouded by an atypical hunger and pure fatigue, you murmur back, “Don’t worry, I tip well,” and a smug smile forms on your face. It’s kind of fun getting to poke back at him. That’s all it is, right? Harmless banter. Gojo senses your intentions on a level unbeknownst to you, though- and he’s not entirely upset at them.

“Listen to you! That was smooth. I just might give you a discount for that.” You hear the sheets rustle beside you, and you slowly turn. He’s fully facing you, boyishly propping his head up on his fist with his near-glowing eyes now exposed. You notice that his blindfold has now been placed neatly on the outdated nightstand. He’s keenly tuned in on you, finding your pajamas a little too cute for a pre-mission night of sleep. It’s clearly getting more difficult for him to deny how entertained he is by the sight of you all snuggled in on your diminutive side of the crappy hotel bed.

You pretend to cover your eyes after seeing his finally revealed to you, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself for matching his energy now. “Put those LEDs away, good lord,” you joke, allowing yourself to let out a sleepy laugh as you pull up the covers to give your bumpy skin some salvation. His intentful gaze is already doing plenty to send heat throughout your limbs though, and the act of grabbing the blanket is an effort in vain. As your eyelids flutter with the weight of tiredness, you understand just how close you two are in the moment. Mentally, you were so much farther away earlier in the evening than you are now- and it takes a second for you to process that you actually like the change.

Gojo laughs softly, and you can hear the late hour begin to seep into his tone. It grows more throaty, lower than before, and it’s entirely too pleasant. Part of you wonders if he’d consider the proposition of reading you a bedtime story. There’s a lingering tension in the air, nearly tangible, and it shifts when you note how his eyes flicker all over your face. Eyes, lips, back to eyes, back to lips.

“Maybe I wanna look at you a little longer. Are you gonna report me to the higher-ups for that, too?” Gojo bats his icy white lashes, his oaky scent further settling into the sheets. The only light in the shoddy room comes from his vibrant irises, and they’re spotlighting on you with piqued interest. The light has always come from him, and it’s an epiphany that has you scooting an inch closer.

“If those things blind me, I will.” You exhale through your nose, partially wishing you could reach out to the heat that radiates off his halfway bare body.

He blinks, and you swear the room flashes dark again for that split second. “Well, y’know, that might be a good thing,” he tries to reason lightheartedly, in a volume just above a whisper. “You wouldn’t have to look at this ugly room anymore.” You watch his hand- the same one you nearly salivated over earlier- land in the limited space between you two, almost as if it wants to cross that border. It takes the most willpower you’ve ever needed not to stare at it, feeling your face flush with a sick anticipation. “I’d be saving you.” Maybe it’s what he’s always wanted to do all along, you both think, and it encourages you to be just as coy back.

In this moment, you feel bold enough to say something you thought would never leave your mouth: “But then I wouldn’t get to look at all six foot three of you.” You pout sarcastically, and Gojo gets the urge to kiss it right off your face. His grin is proud; it’s everything he never knew he wanted to hear.

Your teasing is like a silent permission for his hand to move closer to you, and your entire body stills when you feel it land gently on your lower thigh to play with the frilled hem of your shorts. Must be a pattern of his, you realize. He chuckles, and the sound is so low that you can practically feel it.

“Hmm… You’re right. Again.” Your work partner’s head tilts down slightly at you, and his expression is overcome with what can only be described as relief. “Guess I need to save you some other way.” He notices the goosebumps adorning your figure, and suddenly you’re pressed up against his broad chest. God, he’s so warm, you don’t even realize the way you’re curling right up into him. Somehow, despite your height difference, you fit perfectly along his lanky frame.

“Better?”

You are tired, fatigued beyond belief, but you’d be stupid not to stay awake to experience Satoru Gojo letting his guard down for you. Perhaps this dismal hotel room was a test of will for you two, and while you’re not entirely sure what denotes passing or failing, you do know one thing: Satoru Gojo is unbelievably comfortable to cuddle with.

Still…you wonder what would unfold if you pushed further.

“Hmmm… still not warm enough.” The words leave you before you can tame them, and the unspoken invitation behind them makes his eyebrows raise. The hand playing with the fabric of your shorts squeezes into your skin just the slightest, prompting you to look up at him where you see no reserves on his handsome (God, it’s good to admit that) face. His soft pink lips hover inches from your own, drawing closer like magnets.

“Really.” You feel a thumb rub slow circles along your outer thigh. “I can fix that for you, yeah?” His words shoot straight to your core as his head ducks a little lower, just breaths away from yours.

Well, you’re definitely not tired anymore.

“If you’re still offering that discount…” you breathe out. A rush of smugness allows you to bring your hands to his toned chest, traveling up to trace his defined collarbone. His skin is soft, almost velvety, most likely from years of keeping his perimeter so trained to avoid any unnecessary contact, and the act of smoothing your fingers over it becomes soothing.

Gojo’s lopsided grin conveys the desire he’s suppressed for so long, seemingly caught up in this new dynamic with you. “Nah, we’ll put it on the credit card,” he finally laughs before confidently pressing his lips to yours.

He is an entirely new taste, and you’re not able to reference his movements to anything or anyone; it’s another level of tact and precision. Did he plan this? His kisses are the perfect mix of messy and firm, and it’s clear he’s doing all but holding back. Something unlocks as he goes through the motions, maybe the realization of the snapped tension or maybe the feeling of you kissing back just as passionately, and his mouth soon scatters everywhere from your lips to your jaw to your neck in a flurry of teeth and tongue. He’s somehow magically in tune with your most sensitive areas of the exposed skin as his lips wander, leaving you to grab his firm bicep and cling as if he’s grounding you to the earth. The details of the dingy hotel room are completely abandoned as you feel your senses envelop, finally, with all that is Satoru Gojo, and there was truly no beauty greater than that.

Chest heaving, you almost let out a laugh at how rapidly the night has shifted. His well-trained hands travel, one squeezing the tissue of your breast over your thin shirt while the other dances just below the leg of your shorts. With all walls down, it’s pointless to hide the effect his touch has on you. If his hand moved any higher, he’d discover how wet you were- part of you dreaded how inflated his ego would become after that, but the other, hungrier part of you needed him to do it.

“Anyone ever told you-“ Gojo breathes out between his attack, brushing a thumb over your hardened nipple, “how pretty you are?” He is all too focused on drinking in your features, finding your weakest and favorite points. Your back arches ridiculously easily into his touch as you struggle to find the words to answer him.

“N-no one else that’s mattered.”

You’re sure his ego will balloon rapidly upon that little admission, but you partly didn’t care- not when he was capable of making you feel so unbelievably good.

He’s rightfully amused at how blatant your desire is now. “Oh? So I do matter to you then.” His other hand roams up your thigh, threatening to reach where you wanted it most. You snicker before a shudder erupts from you when a long, hot stripe is licked down your neck and over your shoulder, and it’s all you need to swing your leg over his, straddling him on the stiff, narrow mattress. The flex of his abs as he sits up to accommodate you is nothing short of poetic, and you find more prose in the clouded, desperate fog of his azure eyes when he watches you with curiosity. He immediately rests his grip on your waist, pressing you down gently onto what can only be described as a monster underneath his sweats. You understand now why he carries himself the way that he does: He’s fucking huge.

You push your chest against his, unable to stop the twitch of your hips when you feel Gojo’s hardness brush against your heat. The wetness of your arousal is sure to be felt through the fabric, and he’d be silly to halt your admittedly cute display of attempts in chasing just an ounce of pleasure. Your flushed face, furrowed eyebrows, small noises, it’s motion picture to him. However, he selfishly wants to be that pleasure for you, and he’s quick to slide a hand down your body to cup your pussy through your pajamas.

Your jaw goes slack as Gojo’s hand makes contact with your most sensitive area over your shorts, and the circles he rubs help him collect some of the condensation from the fabric. It feels good, but not good enough, and you can’t help but huff at the restricted movement. He is all too cocky when his hand pulls away, eyeing it with an intense mirth.

“Damn, waterworks, you always get this wet?” He’s half-amazed and half-amused as he studies his glistening fingers, his other hand gripping at your ass. “That’s so hot.”

“Shut up, Satoru.” You smack his bare shoulder before burying your face into it, feeling your cheeks turn crimson. He chuckles, finding you adorable when you’re embarrassed yet hating that you feel that way. He knows just how to help you get over that, and he starts by slowly sliding his body down, holding your thighs spread as he maneuvers his head onto the flat-ish pillow. You glare down confusedly at him in his newfound position, only to meet with eager cerulean eyes that are practically begging to pull you closer.

“Fine then, I’ve got other stuff I wanna do with my mouth anyway,” you hear him murmur from between your thighs, and his hand brushes over your clothed, throbbing cunt again. “Now sit, princess.”

“Huh? No, you won’t be able to breathe, I can’t.” Your head shakes vigorously in disapproval. Not that you didn’t want them there, but there was no way… you’d probably end up suffocating the guy, and while you had a more murderous urge to do that earlier this evening you’d much rather-

“Fine with me, now lemme taste you,” Gojo insists with almost a whine in his tone, not letting you respond before pulling the soaked crotch of your shorts to the side and licking a long, forceful line from your hole to your clit. You moan when he does it again, and again, feeling your knees weaken to finally sink yourself onto his mouth. The groan that vibrates against your nerve endings makes you look down, only to see his frosty white lashes flutter as you fill his senses. This was well worth the hours of wearing down your resolve this evening.

His movements become frantic, desperate to experience you now that he’s let his guard down this long with no dire consequences. You feel his tongue lap at your sensitive clit, and his lips kiss in your heat so loudly and wetly that it sounds like a porn scene. Your hands fly to his ivory hair, gripping till his scalp stings. This makes him groan again, and you can barely control the way your hips start to rock along his mouth.

Gojo breaks away for a split second, tongue dragging along your inner thigh with his cock nearly in pain because of he’s got you where he wants you. “Just like that, baby, ride my face,” he huffs quickly before returning to flattening his tongue along your clit. You feel him squeeze the cheeks of your ass, forcing you onto the hot muscle and encouraging you to continue.

He seems to be breathing just fine, you realize- which of course he is, he’s Satoru fucking Gojo- he could handle just about anything. It gives you the confidence to rut your hips forward, moaning louder when his lips wrap around your overstimulated nerve and suck hard. You earn a playful smack on your ass when his name slips out of your mouth, and the stinging sends you further into your frenzy for pleasure as you start to build up a pace. It’s addicting, really, the way he’s lapping and sucking at your aching cunt like it’s his favorite dessert, and you’re suddenly thankful that he has the appetite that he does. He breaks away for a second to spit into your heat, spreading your slick folds wide with those deft fingers of his, and that only has you rocking harder along his mouth when he reattaches himself. To him, you are so much better than any sweet he’s had.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you’re tugging Gojo’s snowy tresses in shallow efforts to further bury his face in your cunt as you ride it, and he’s all too happy that you’re using him in this way. As his tongue prods up into your tight entrance, he feels his cock throb again at the prospect of how it would feel inside of you. He groans at the thought, and you feel it all the way up in your ribcage. He’s already picked up on the fact that you’re close, judging by how your frantic movements have sped up and the way you’re babbling incoherent praises that only make him ache more.

“Fuck, Satoru, feels so- good- please…”

When Gojo lets out a little laugh at that, you feel your slick dribble messily down your thighs. That hot, blinding pressure grows stronger under your navel when you grind harder on his tongue, threatening to spill over when he starts to flick it along your clit to match your pace. It all feels so deliciously good that you pay no mind to his nails digging into your flesh, his own way of ensuring he’s leaving a mark- as if he hasn’t decorated your neck in shades of blotchy fuchsia already.

“I’m-so-close….”

He gives your ass another smack with your breathy cry, looking up at you with eyes that nearly beam. You look down while your hips continue to drag along his tongue, finding him just so damn pretty while he’s eating you so good, and you ease your fingers in his hair. That impending sensation grows stronger, and he quickly parts from your lips to murmur confidently:

“I know, princess, I got you. Lemme have it.”

His choice of words and the way he immediately goes back to lapping at your heat are both more than enough to have you coming apart around his tongue in mere seconds. There is nothing in your mind’s eye but Gojo as your high overtakes you, fizzling through your being and prompting you to cry out his name as if it’s a chant. He soaks it all in, helping you ride out your release before slowing to kiss his way back up your body. You’ve never come that hard- and somehow, he senses this too. Your legs feel like jelly when he’s finally face-to-face with you, and his is glistening with your arousal. If he wasn’t desperate to be inside of you right now he could do that for hours, he thinks.

You lean in, capturing your lips with Gojo’s and wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. Your own taste on your lips does little to dissuade you from him, and for the next few moments, you both feverishly rip off whatever clothing is still unfortunately on your bodies. He, as gracefully as he can given the annoyingly small hotel bed, maneuvers you onto the pillow so you’re lying on your back, and you feel his heavy cock hit your stomach. He pauses for a second to study your features, finding that every inch of you is worth burning to memory. You’re stunning like this, all sticky and flushed and needy, and it’s all because of his efforts. He’s only more gratified when your mouth flies open at his impressive size.

“You're kidding. That's not gonna fit,” You sputter, still in your post-orgasm daze, but you feel your hole clench around nothing when you notice the filmy drops of pre beading around his thick tip.

His laugh is genuine, almost melodic as he pumps himself a few times. “Such a downer. We’ll make it fit, ‘kay?” Gojo promises with a goofy grin, letting his hand wander along your bare nipples and stomach before eventually revisiting your now sore cunt. You hiss in delight when he slides one of his long fingers in, and your legs spread automatically at the intrusion. Even in the most cramped bed ever, you’d realize you’d make room for him anywhere. You reach out, dragging your hand along his chiseled stomach, nearly in awe at how firm the muscles are there. He’s like if art was living, breathing, unrestricted from a canvas or frame.

Your hand slides further, silently encouraging his own to move so you can take over stroking his hardened cock as his finger curls along your hot walls. You moan quietly, watching his breath hitch in his broad chest- he’s not sure whether to watch your face or your movements, and there’s an eagerness within him that amplifies when he sees how tightly you’re sucking in just a digit of his. His hips jut forward slightly when your thumb brushes his sensitive tip, and he finally decides to look into your eyes. You stare back, wanting to say so much about how his are the perfect shade of blue.

“Y’know why I harass you so much?” He asks in a tone that reaches a new level of softness for him, and you entertain his question as he slowly introduces a second finger. The stretch is delicious, though you think it’s doing little to prep for the monstrosity that awaits you.

“‘Cause you’re Satoru Gojo?” You reply before letting out a hiss at a particularly sensitive spot he hits within you.

He snorts. “Well, yeah, and ‘cause I think you’re pretty. Inside and out. Gorgeous, actually.”

You blush a little at how he turns a silly banter into a very real confession, and you watch his eyelids flutter again. Actually, you feel kind of bad for being so lighthearted while he was being serious- that was his thing, anyway. Times like these were what made his bluntness endearing, and he continues, beginning to align his length with your dripping entrance after slowly removing his fingers.

“So, lemme prove it.”

Feeling all kinds of giddy you nod, angling your thighs so his hips can fit between them. His spongy tip drags through your slick folds, and it’s the most you’ve ever felt another person focus so directly on you. You look up at him, bringing your hands up his stomach and to his defined shoulders as his tip sinks into you just the slightest.

“Well, you’re pretty too, like otherworldly handsome,” you admit back with a timid smile, clearly trying to regain your breath. “Just couldn’t tell you ‘cause you were too busy harassing me.” You exhale when he submerges himself a little more, and he smiles back with his pearly white teeth. “You’re fucking huge, too… oh my god…” you add, moaning a little at how his cock feels nothing like his fingers. You hate to admit it, but it’s clear he’s set to wreck you.

“Naturally.” He’s using every ounce of strength to control himself from pounding into you, responding to your praise and your criticism all at once. Gojo slowly and gently pushes in until his hips are flush with yours, and it feels as if he’s tearing you from the inside. Your face is scrunched at the intrusion, and he has to cover his own mouth to stop a moan at how tight you feel. There’s no other convincing needed by him that your pussy was practically made for him, he thinks, and he studies your features for any indication of stopping.

“Look at you,” he coos, nearly mesmerized by how your cunt has already swallowed him whole. His hand slides down his face to tweak at one of your hardened nipples. “And you said I wouldn’t fit. Takin’ it like a pro, princess.” His lighthearted motivation makes you snicker a little, and it eases some of the stinging from the stretch he’s causing. He gives you a few shallow thrusts, and his eyes practically roll to the back of his head when your hot walls grip around him. It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, and when finally you do, you give him the silent go-ahead by softening your expression. His grin could blind a room full of people when he thrusts deeper, not only reaching that same sensitive spot but finding another, and it makes your head loll back to the pillow.

That reminds him. He pauses for a second to slide one of the cheap hotel pillows under your tailbone, and suddenly his cock feels like it’s colliding with your guts when he continues his movements. Your mouth couldn’t fall any more open as he starts to establish a pace, filling you so masterfully yet harshly with every stroke.

“Sa-to-ru…” you pant, digging your nails into Gojo’s sculpted back, and this only motivates him more. You have a realization that could either be horrible or amazing: How could you ever fuck anyone else again? Again and again he’s thrusting into that magical spot till the sounds of your wetness fill the otherwise lackluster room, spoiling you for any other and reassuring you that yes, he really is the strongest. Part of him knows how skilled he is, and he has to refrain from laughing- no one would ever be enough once he was done with you. Then again, he never wants to be done with you.

You feel his tactful hands roam your body aimlessly, a visible sign of his enrapture with how you receive him. He wants to focus on watching his cock slam into your cunt over and over, but he also wants to watch your face as you writhe and cry out his name- he’s clearly conflicted.

The little breathy noises slipping out of him aren’t helping your cause, and the way he abruptly throws one of your legs over his broad shoulder doesn’t either. He’s now rutting into your tight heat relentlessly, a stark contrast from how delicately he’s kissing up the thigh that’s pressed into his chest.

“Your pussy is...perfect,” you hear Gojo groan, drawing the words out, and his kisses along your thigh become animalistic as they turn into bites. You whimper, back arching with all the sensations filling your system, and that heady feeling in your tummy begins to strengthen again. “Wanna-fuck you- forever…”

“Please,” you agree as your ability to form sentences leaves you. “Don’t ever- stop…”

In a perfect world, he wouldn’t. As one hand holds your thigh to his chest and the other travels to your overstimulated clit, his shiny blue eyes watch your contorting face, smiling proudly when you moan at how his fingers rub tight circles along your nerves. He can feel his release approaching alongside yours, and your slick walls flutter around his cock as he pummels into you.

“Want another one, princess,” Gojo pants, making your skin smack against his as your orgasm builds up in your tummy. “Go on, come on- my cock…”

His wish is your command. You quickly lean forward, mashing your lips with his when the pleasure fizzles out of you all over again. You feel the tips of your toes burn at how powerfully your release hits you, wracking your body with an almost overwhelming amount of pleasure. You’re reduced to a heaving, shaking mess, convulsing around his length and left only able to babble his name against his mouth in your state of bliss. His hand cradles the back of your head as he fucks you through the aftershock and kisses you roughly, only to follow close behind just moments later. His movements falter before your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as you feel yourself start to fill with his thick seed.

Holy shit. Who would’ve guessed that this was how your evening would turn out? Just mere hours ago you wanted to claw at his throat, and instead you clawed at his back because of how good he was dicking you down. Your mind swims as Gojo slowly withdraws, slipping out of your sore cunt to collapse beside you in what little space the hotel bed offered. He’s even gorgeous like this, maybe more than ever actually. You’re observing how his ivory hair sticks to his forehead and his back glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat from his efforts, the muscles there decorated with thin red indents from your nails. It’s a sight worth recreating an infinite number of times.

Not having him envelop all your senses anymore forces you back into reality, where a mission lies just hours ahead of you and your shared hotel room isn’t any prettier. And unbelievably, those things don’t even matter anymore. All you can perceive and recognize in your afterglow is Satoru Gojo, who is already regaining his breath while you lie there like a fucked-out mess. Beautiful.

Gojo turns to face you, watching your chest rise and fall as you regulate yourself, and his delighted grin is all too perfect for someone who just obliterated you.

“So…you warm enough now?”

Your sticky body shifts to face him, vibrating with laughter as you answer “For now, yes…” and your head hits the pillow exhaustedly. That’s right- you were already tired before this “development” even happened.

His whole being is pure elation as he languidly drapes an arm over your bare figure. “Does that mean we get to do that again? I think she really likes me.” His hand brushes over your abused cunt, and your body flares at his touch yet again. It was a sick epiphany that he could destroy you and you’d still want more.

You snicker. “Yes, but she is super sore right now.” The sleepiness from earlier seeps into your brain, and you find yourself curling back into his lanky frame. He accepts you openly, resting a hand on your ass as he scoops you closer.

“I can kiss her better,” he pipes up quietly, already thinking of all the ways he could keep touching you. Even though you feel that droning buzz of want again, you tiredly shake your head, regretfully reminding him “Noooo, we’ve gotta get up in a few hours. Maybe after our mission.” You swear his eyes desaturate a shade before he sighs.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You’re gonna be tired and sore anyway.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“Nah.” Gojo moves to press a fresh batch of kisses all over your neck, and you shudder. He did have a point- you were already planning on shotgunning whatever energy drinks were in the dingy hotel lobby’s vending machine in the morning, as if they even had one. “I could go all night if you wanted, princess. Give you more of my cooties.”

You laugh freely, realizing he probably wasn’t exaggerating. It’s quite the offer from the one who just wrecked you so good- and you’d be silly to refuse despite your tiredness. You feeling your limbs tangle into each other’s, returning thoughts of the hazardous hotel drifting away once more, and your arousal slowly revisits you. What an incredible way to forget about your surroundings. You tug playfully on his icy tresses, you decide that this might be your new favorite kind of exhaustion. “As long as you don’t share your cooties with anyone else.”

Snickering, Gojo keenly zeroes on spreading your aching legs so he can see the aftermath from earlier, and he’s hardening again at the sight of his thick cum barely trickling out onto your thighs. With a mischievous smile, he assures you, “Never. This is just too pretty. Plus, you said you were gonna tip well.”

His hands trace you, and there’s not a more discernible indicator of your new bond with him than when you look down at his length, answering him in a familiarly cheeky tone, “Well, you already did.” He laughs, the warmest he's ever allowed himself, and it's certain he's keeping his promise.

Turns out, Shoko was right about him.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #mdni #jjk #jjk x you #satoru gojo

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doawks · 1 year ago

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༊*·˚ what it’s like being with joshua hong.

♫. that’s my girl, frank sativa.

contains sfw & nsfw.

Joshua likes to call you an angel because that's what you are. In fact, if he's feeling extra sentimental (which he normally is) ━ He'll tell you that it was obviously fate that brought you two together. He remembers his late nights when he was usually deep in thought, and how he would pray and pray for God to send an angel his way and bring sunshine to his world so his heart could heal and grow ━ It's memorable to note that since he's met you, you've done just that. Brought light to his world and now his heart's big and fully grown.

Joshua likes to spoil you from the hairs on the top of your head down to the tip of your prettily manicured toe because you deserve the best and nothing less. Seriously, whatever you want. 'Cause nothing is ever too much for his girl - ever.

Joshua likes to show you off━ not to flaunt you like you're some kind of animate object and ignite jealousy in other males, no. But to show the entire world how breathtakingly beautiful you are.

Joshua always, always has you in mind. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where he's at. He needs to have you in his mind, especially when he's on tour and he's so busy to the point where he can't even pick up the phone to text you. The mere thoughts of you and your pretty face is what's keeping him sane.

Joshua likes to listen to anything and everything you say. Every little thing, even when you think he isn't listening━ he is. He likes that you always get so excited when you speak about your day or something as simple as the weather, it's so adorable and he's very fond of it.

(nsfw) Joshua likes to kiss you━ Wherever. But if he's going to be appropriate, Joshua likes kissing your pretty lips because they're perfectly molded and feel so soft against his. He likes to kiss your nose, your cheeks, your forehead. But if he's going to be inappropriate, Joshua likes to kiss your neck, your collarbone or down your pretty body so he can ease his way down to your cunt - spending his morning in between your thighs. Obviously kissing on your clit and puffy lips, because he loves kissing you ━ every damn inch of you.

Joshua likes making everything about you. If he hears one of the members talking about something they like and you just so happen to like it as well, best believe this man will be like, "Oh! YN likes that as well!" with a big ass, boyish grin on his face. Or if he's out at the store shopping for clothes or anything and he see's something that reminds him of you, he'll be thinking, "YN would probably like this." and end up buying whatever it is . . . this correlates with him always having you in mind.

Joshua likes when you send pictures of yourself because he's always quick to make it his wallpaper instantly. He's also saving every picture you send and adding it to his "My pretty girl" collection. He's so whipped for you, it's honestly crazy. And when he's on tour or far away from you, he goes through that collection with a small, content smile on his face ━ silently soaking up all your beauty from the screen awaiting the days 'til he'll get to see your pretty face again in person.

(nsfw) Joshua likes to be sweet and delicate with you. He likes to whisper huskily in your ear, telling you how pretty look while taking his cock like a good girl. He likes━loves to tell you how one day he's going to fuck you full of his come and make you mommy - belly round and breast full of milk as they drip from your swollen nipples. But Joshua can also get rough and mean, telling you how much of a nasty little slut you are for taking him from behind in this dirty public bathroom at the club because you just couldn't wait 'til you two got home so he could properly take care of you. No, you just couldn't wait. Now you're whining and moaning like a bitch in heat while Joshua's splitting your pussy apart on his cock, mascara running down your face, his hand in your hair - pulling the back of your head to his chest.

Joshua's love language: Act of Service. You honestly don't even know why you try to lift a finger when Joshua Hong is around. He makes breakfast every morning and on top of that, he feeds it to you! Giving you a look and a disgruntled grunt when you attempt to lift up your own fork. When he's home before you are, he running you a bath as soon as you walk through the door ━ when he comes from the bathroom, he's making his way over to you, pulling you over to the couch, placing you onto his lap and rubbing your back soothingly; letting you tell him all about your day, not saying anything until you were fully finished. In the bath, he's seated in the back of you and he's washing every part of your body, kissing the skin behind your ear lovingly while doing so.

At the end of the day, Joshua just likes loving you and he will continue loving you until his last breath on this Earth. Even then, he'll still be loving you in the afterlife.

#♥ ━ JOSHUA!#joshua hong #hong jisoo #seventeen smut #joshua headcannons #joshua x reader #joshua smut #jisoo smut #seventeen x female #joshua x female reader #headcannons #BRUHHHHH #i love joshua im going to SOB........#anyways!!!#i was listening to ivy by frank ocean while writing this #though that song has NOTHING to do with this!!! joshua and oc are happy #and thriving #🔥🗣️

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minniesmutt · 8 months ago

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♱ ━━━━━━ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋: 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

♱ ━━━ CONTENT: INDIRECT MENTIONS OF MURDER, GUN MENTIONS, THREATS ON READERS LIFE, MENTION OF PROSTITUTES, STD MENTIONS, NON-SEXUAL NUDITY, FINGERING, EXHIBITIONISM/VOUYERISM, QUICKIE, PROTECTED SEX ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.6K ♱ ━━━ PAIRING: CHAN X READER ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog ♱ ━━━ a repost from my old blog

“So, I fucked a mafia boss?”

“More or less,” Changbin replied

“That’s kinda hot,” Y/n shrugged

“Congrats Chan, you didn’t scare her off,” Seungmin gave the leader a thumbs-up

“Can I get an explanation on the ‘Chan’ part? That’s the thing throwing me off.”

“Did you tell you his name was Chris?” Felix asked

“That’s what Changbin and I heard last night, or, early this morning?” Jisung stated

“That’s embarrassing, damn.” Y/n sighed

“I can kick them out still,” Chan told her, praying she’d tell him too

“No, I want more of an explanation.” Y/n was persistent, that was for sure. Felix took to explaining the current situation; alias’, how they all met, fell into crime and violence together, etc. Leaving out what they actually had done and what they did every day. The club front and mentioned a few others they had because eight people running one club were suspicious.

“Wow, okay that’s a lot,” Y/n sighed, taking in the information she had just given

“Chan,” Changbin said

“Yeah. You guys get to work.” The words left his lips and the seven guys made their way out of the penthouse, leaving the two. Chan sighed and turned from where he stood next to the counter to stand between her thighs, hands pressing against the cold counter. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

“I didn’t plan to tell you any of this,” Chan brought one hand up to hold her chin between his thumb and pointer finger

“Is this the part where you tell me I can’t go back to my regular life? That I know too much?” Y/n was half joking. She’d read a couple of mafia lover books before, if they were anything like real life, she could guess what was coming.

“You either stay with us or we make you disappear.” The look in his eyes was serious. Y/n just smiled at him.

“You know, normal people don’t smile when their life is on the line,” Chan notified her

“Well, guess I’m not normal then. You’re stuck with me.”

“Y/n, please tell me you’ve thought this through.”

“What? Stay with a hot gang leader who’s very sweet and has some funny friends who are equally as attractive or die?”

“You’d be giving up you’re whole life, friends and all, princess. We can’t risk you running to the police.”

“Chrissy, babe. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not entirely right in the head. I don’t think a sane person would be as calm as I am about this whole thing. I swear I won’t go to the police or tell my friends about this. Most they will know if you’re a club owner and ask for free drinks. Do you want me to make a blood oath to you or something?”

“No, you don’t need to go that far. It’s… It’s a lot more than me.”

His head dropped as well as his hand. Laying on her thigh, “You wouldn’t be the first person we’ve brought into this. It usually doesn’t end well when they agree to stay.”

“Hey,” Y/n grabbed his face and made him look at her, “What aren't you telling me?”

“Besides that, my friends are just as smitten with you as I am, if you stay with us you are going to get caught up in everything.”

“That seems like a given. But I think eight hot men are good bodyguards.”

“Just how fucked is that pretty little head of yours?”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out soon,” Y/n pulled him in for a kiss.

Chan laughed a bit as he kissed her back, gripping her hips, and pulled her closer to the ledge of the counter. Y/n pressed her torso up against his bare chest, hands wandering down to his shoulders and gripping his biceps. “You sure you wanna stay?” Chan pulled away from her lips.

“Yes, Chris. Now stop worrying and fuck me again.”

Chan smiled, “You know, the guys are gonna want you too, right?” he leaned in and kissed down her neck

“I don’t mind getting passed around,” Y/n chuckled, “But can you share?”

“I can,” Chan answered, snaking and hand from her hips to under his shirt.

He pushed his finger between her folds and let his thumb slowly run circles along her clit. Y/n laid her head back on the cabinet behind her as he pushed two fingers inside of her, slowly pumping them in and out of her.

“Fuck Chrissy.”

“Love when you call me that,” His voice was muffled against her neck.

“Chan! Do you not have you’re fucking phone on you!” Minho’s voice rang

Chan sighed, not once even stopping his ministrations on her, “What is it now?”

“Felix got into the cameras at the docs. A bunch of lower-grade thugs go—” Minho walked into the kitchen, “Before I go further, what are we doing with her?”

“She’s staying with us,” Chan didn’t miss the smirk on his friend’s face.

“Well, lower-grade thugs got their hands on some bigger-grade guns and ballistics—” Minho explained the situation but Y/n wasn’t paying much attention as Chan slipped a third finger into her and pressed harder on her clit. Chan’s attention wasn’t even on her anymore, he was fully involved in his conversation with Minho. She bit her lower lip to keep her moans at bay.

“Don’t be quiet on the count of me kitten,” Minho stated, smirk returning to his face.

Her eyes flickered over to the other man. The moment she caught his gaze, she clenched around Chan’s fingers. Minho’s eyes drifted across her body as he continued speaking with Chan. Eyes lingering just a tad too long on her exposed thighs.

“Find the guys and call me, I’ll handle it from there.”

“You going to have your phone on you this time?”

“Yes, now go.”

Minho smiled, leaving the two of them. Chan turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. His lips went back to her neck while his fingers picked up the pace inside her.

“You like being watched when you’re getting fucked,” Chan chuckled

“Don’t know what you mean.” His fingers left her seconds later, making her whine

“I felt you clamp around my fingers when Minho walked in. Don’t play dumb,” Chan pulled himself out of his pants.

“I could say the same for you. You didn’t stop fingering me when you were talking to him,” Y/n added as he opened a drawer and rummaged around before pulling out a condom, “Do you just conveniently keep condoms in your kitchen?”

“You never know where you’re gonna fuck, might as well be prepared,” Chan smiled as he tore open the wrapper, rolling the rubber onto his cock

“Thought you didn’t bring others home.”

“Princess, we’ve all used prostitutes before,” Chan explained as he pulled her down from the counter, turning her around so his back was against his chest.

Before she could even comment, Chan pushed into her in one fell swoop. Y/n let a high-pitched moan fall from their throat as leaned forward, putting her hands on the counter in front of her. Chan smiled, holding onto her hips and leaning forward, “So pretty,” he whispered against her neck

He pulled back and thrusted back into her, not at a slow pace but also not at a fast pace. His lips left kisses along her neck, hands traveling away from her hips and pushing the t-shirt up.

“Faster,” Y/n groaned as his hands groped her breasts.

“Not yet princess,” Chan chuckled and his fingers tweaked her nipples

Y/n gripped the marbled counter as her head hung low, deep shallow breaths falling from her lips, slightly pushing herself back onto him, meeting his steady thrusts.

“Trying to fuck yourself on me, Princess?” Chan gave her one rough thrust that stopped all thoughts in her head

Chan was quick to learn last night the effect he might have had on her. Now he was certain of it and it made him smile.

He stood straight behind her and grabbed her hips again. He pulled back to the tip and quickly and roughly fucked back into her. Laughing at the curses that fell from her mouth. One hand moved down from her hips to rub her clit. The bit of pressure made her walls clamp around him and the knot in her stomach tightened faster between his thrusts and his fingers.

Chan’s thrusts were making it hard for her to do— let alone think of —anything. Hands slipping from the counter a bit, taking Chan’s notice. He moved his other hand up from her hip up to the column of her throat. He had a loser hold there as he pulled her back against his chest. Y/n grabbed onto his arm to ground herself, just a little.

“Even prettier like this,” Chan chuckled before she came undone on his cock. Chan thrusted up a few more times before coming in the condom.

Both caught their breaths before Chan pulled out and tossed the condom in the garbage. Y/n leaned against the counter before she was scooped up into his arms and carried back into the large bedroom.

“Don’t forget your phone or Minho will kill you,” Y/n giggled as he brought her into the bathroom

“I’d like to see him try,” Chan replied. He set her down on the counter before turning on the facet in the tub. Chan stepped out momentarily and came back with both their phones.

“Oh shit. Where was mine?” Y/n asked

“On the floor in your bag by my bed,” Chan answered

“Didn’t know I dropped it last night. Whoops,” Y/n grabbed her barely alive phone to check her messages

“We were both busy,” Chan smiled as he kissed her neck before going back to fix the bath for them.

Karina: Im so fucking pissed. That dick was terrible last night and now I’m hungover as fuck Seana: I’m assuming none of us came last night then Karina: probably not Y/n? Did you go home with anyone last night

It was pretty obvious that her two friends she was hanging out with had just gotten home. “Am I allowed to tell my friends I fucked the club owner?” Y/n asked

“As long as that’s all you say,” Chan replied

Y/n smiled at him.

Y/n: I did! Seana: oh bitch. who? Y/n: the owner 🤭

Chan came up and stood between her legs and watched her screen

Karina: no way! I don’t even think the employees have seen the owner. How do you know the guy wasn’t lying? Seana: someone’s jealous 🙄 Karina: im just saying. it’s unlikely

“Karina seems like a bitch,” Chan noted

“She’s been worse.” Y/n sighed

Y/n: If this penthouse is anything to the money that club brings in 👀 Seana: YOU’RE STILL THERE Y/n: He knows how to make a girl cum and I didn’t have to tell him to put a condom on. fuck yes I’m still here Karina: damn. didn’t wanna go raw 🙄 Seana: that’s why you have an std, dumbass Karina: UNCALLED FOR??? Y/n: gtg. talk later 😉 Seana: have fun babe 😉 Karina: does he have friends?

“I stand by my previous statement,” Chan said as Y/n set her phone to the side

“Yeah. I just keep her around for entertainment at this point.”

“Bath’s ready Princess.” Chan slid his hands under the t-shirt she had on

“Join me?” Y/n asked, hands wandering down to his sweats

“Of course,” Chan slipped the shirt off and tossed it to the ground. Y/n pushed his pants down before he took over. Y/n hopped off the counter and Chan guided her over to the tub.

He got in first and laid back against the porcelain as she got in and laid against his chest. His arms wrapped around her body.

“How do you feel about working in the club?” Chan asked after a few moments

“Gonna make me a bottle service girl?” Y/n chuckled

“No. People talk, I need you to listen. You’ll have a front job in management as well. You’re here, I might as well put you to use,” Chan explained

“Being you’re fuck toy isn’t a job?”

“You’re human, princess. Not a doll for us to play with whenever we want.”

“What exactly would I be doing for all of you then? You mentioned the others wanting me.”

“We haven’t explicitly talked about it, but from the way they were looking at you earlier, I figured they’d all taken a bit of an interest in you. If I’m correct and they are, you’d be shared between all of us. In return, we’ll provide you with everything you need.”

“Like a sugar baby? That’s what this sounds like to me.”

“Whatever you want to call it love. But, you’ll also be an informant for us. Men don't talk to us but give them a pretty face offering a drink and they’ll spill anything.”

“But don’t sleep with the enemy? Come back to each of you every night?”

“Hm. Not every night. I’ll provide you with your own place in the building, we’ll all have free reign to your place as well, but you’ll have the same to our places as well. Some may be a bit more clingy than others so beware.”

“Do you own the building too?”

“Yes. It is usually the eight of us that just live here, but now,” Chan leaned down and kissed her shoulder, “You’ll be here.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Chan smiled, kissing up her neck before his phone rang. Chan got up from the tub and stepped out. He made his way over to the counter and picked up his phone. “Hello?”

Y/n enjoyed the warm water, sinking lower. Relaxing her muscles from all they’d been through last night and this morning.

“Alright. Get over to mine to watch Y/n, I’ll head down there.”

Her head popped up at the mention of her name. “Where are you going?”

“Work. Minho and Jisung are coming down to take care of you until I get back. I’m sure Minho will give you some more details on the arrangement,” Chan grabbed a towel to dry off and walked out of the room to get dressed, “I’ll have them take you to your place to pack up what you need. I should be done by the time you get back to have your new place set up,” Chan called from inside the room

“Alrighty,” Y/n spoke, washing herself off. Chan brought in a clean t-shirt for her and cleaned up the clothes on the floor before he kissed the top of her head, “I won’t be long princess.”

“Have fun,” Y/n replied. Chan patted the top of her head as he walked out of the bathroom. He sent a text to his two friends telling them to take her to pack her things. He made a quick stop in his closet again to grab his gun from its safe.

He made sure it was locked again before he left his room. Minho and Jisung walked in from the elevator.

“She’s still washing up,” Chan told them as he headed to the elevator.

“Got it, boss,” Jisung said

“I told her about the arrangement as well.”

Both the men smiled at the mention. They could have some fun with this.

♱ ━━━━━━ ⇤prev | m.list | next⇥

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imaniwriting · 11 months ago

Note

Rafe x Heyward!Reader who meets at a party and go from enemies to lvrs

(I had fun writing this icl)

𝟐 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 (requests are open)

Warnings : swearing, let me know if i missed anything

Summary : it took 2 weeks for Rafe have you wrapped around his finger and it took nothing for you to have him wrapped around yours

Genre : idk

DAY 1

It was the first party of the season thrown at a kooks place and since all summer you were forced to work at the country club you figured you could treat yourself to this one time of free time and surprisingly your father agreed to let you.

The party was usual drunk kids messing around and some sane people watching over them. You yourself had some drinks but your were only tipsy nothing more nothing less.

“Well, well, well, what’s a pouge doing here all alone? You know you’re in the enemy’s territory.” Said a voice from behind you making you turn around. “Well i wont say I haven’t seen you often on my ‘territory’ Rafe” you shot back making him smirk.

“No need to get so defensive love i was just saying.” He said arms held up in surrender. He had always found you intriguing but never dared to make a move on it until now. He saw you hanging out more and more with some random touron and he wasn’t about to loose his chance to that guy.

“Well go just saying something somewhere else Rafe” you said annoyed not wanting to communicate with the guy who has been beating your brother for the longest time.

Rafe put his hand on his chest in a mockingly manner “why dont you love being in my presence?” He asked making you flip him off and walk away. “You’ll fold someday!” He yelled after you making you chuckle before raising your hand again to flip him off once again. He knew this was game on.

DAY 2

You had officially started working in the country club and it was hard to say the least. There were so many snobby rich people that were just trying to get you fired.

And there were rich teenagers which’s egos were through the roof. She was taking an order when Rafe and his friends walked into the building. “Yes sir would that be all?” She asked to which the guy just rolled his eyes and waved her away. “Okay..” you said dragging the word.

“Here you go sir your cranberry vodka with extra vodka” you said when you finished making the drink “do you want to start a tab?” You asked your eyes trained on Rafe and his friends. “No.” He said making you nod and ring him up. He the left leaving no tip making you roll your eyes. “Fucking stuck up.” You muttered while cleaning the countertop not seeing Rafe walk over to you. Without looking up you greeted him not knowing it was the Cameron boy. “Hello Sir what would you like?” You asked while picking up something up from the ground. When you looked up your face fell. “Huh, Sir? i like the sound of that” he said leaning over the counter top.

“Rafe i do not have time for this” you groaned running your fingers through your hair. “What now? Scaring costumers away?” He asked making you roll your eyes in annoyance

You saw your boss staring at you from afar which made you force a smile onto your face. “No of course not. What would you like?” You said with a big smile on your face which was obviously fake.

“Hmm how about your number?” He asked while scanning over the menu. That made you laugh “yeah right” you said making him look up into your eyes. “A glass of whiskey and 2 vodka cranberries” he said.

You nodded “ want to start a tab?” You asked while getting the cranberry juice and vodka. “No” he said getting out his wallet. You nodded and rung him up trying his eyes staring at you.

“That will be about 20 dollars” you said handing him the drinks. He grabbed an 100 dollar bill and handed it to you before walking away. “Rafe?” You yelled after him and he turned around “this is way to much you still need change.” He shook his head at that.

“I don’t love” he started “ what i need is your number.” He finished shrugging and winking at you.

DAY 5

It was now almost a week since you worked at the country club and every day Rafe came to talk to you keeping you company. He had always left a big tip making it bearable. You also gave him your number after 3 days of convincing.

“So what are you doing after this.” He asked while you fixed up another order. “Probably helping my father out by delivering groceries” you answered recalling that your father wanted some help earlier. “Damn you don’t get no break do you?” Rafe stated the obvious while finishing his drink. “Yeah thats what’s normal when your daddy ain’t rich” you said rolling your eyes you still had to get used to rafe being in your presence. Though talking with Rafe had some pros for example he naturally laid his hands off pouges.

Not long after your brother walked in with his friends. “Hey y/n!” Pope said excitedly while walking over to you. You smiled at him but his smile dropped when he saw Rafe sitting in front of you. You shook your head to signal him to let it go before getting sodas out for them.

“Hey Kiara girl how ya doin?” You asked opening the bottles for them.

Rafe let out a groan before paying and getting up. “At least he left a tip” said jj thinking it was something rare. You nodded staring at Rafe leaving. You looked at the check you had in your hand. ‘I’ll drive you home when you’re done’ it read making you slightly smile.

DAY 10

It had become a routine, waking up, leaving for work, talking to rafe the whole day, being driven home by rafe or hanging out with him and then go to sleep.

“Where to miss heyward?” Rafe asked while starting his car. “Rafe you know damn well were to.” He rolled his eyes playfully “sorry to assume that maybe you have some free time” he said making you turn to him. “You know what? To yours then I’ve been waiting for you to show me how to make that Cameron drink you’ve been talking about.”

Rafe smiled and took a turn so he could drive to tanny hill instead to your house. When you guys finally arrived you sat in the kitchen of the large mansion. “You wanna try?” Rafe asked when he was done with the drink, making you nod. “Sure.” You said while taking the Glas and taking a sip.

“This is actually not bad.” You said surprised Rafe nodded as if to say that he knew. You finished your drink and you found yourself sitting on the expensive couch watching a movie.

You didn't even care that your phone had rang a couple minutes ago. When the movie finally finished you were falling asleep but Rafe knew you would kill him if he let you spent the night.

That’s why he walked over to you and picked you up walking to his car and buckling your seat belt. He drove you home and walked up the stairs hoping that he wouldn’t have to face any of the pouges especially your brother. He was actually hoping for Hayward so that he could lie smoothly

“Hey is that rafe over there?” Pope asked making him groan into his hand. He turned around and held his hands up “look dude im not here to fight for the first time in my life” he said making JJ and pope walk over to him. “Then what are you doing here?” Pope gritted out making Rafe rub his forehead contemplating if he should throw a punch or not. “I’m here to drop of your sister.” He said making jj frown. “What’d you do with her?” He asked venom dripping from his tone.

“Nothing.” Rafe answered truthfully. But none of the pouges in front of him believed him and you got woken up by punches and shouting.

DAY 14

Since the day pope and jj fought with rafe you hadn’t heard from him. Which was hard given he had become a part of your routine. And something you didn’t expect to see this morning was Rafe knocking on your bedroom door.

“Hey” he said scratching the back of his neck. “Hi” you said back feeling a weird sensation build up in your stomach. “Your mother let me in.” He explained upon seeing your confused expression. “Oh you didn’t have to punch yourself through the door?” You asked sarcastically .

“Okay look i know what i pulled wasn’t great,” he started obviously struggling to say sorry. “But I didn’t throw the first punch.” He continued making you scoff “rafe you are 22! They are 17! Who’s the older one to be handling the situation right?” You asked making him nod slightly not wanting to make you any more mad.

“I know.” Was all he said making you look up into his eyes. “Say it.” You replied knowing it as on the tip of his tongue. “I’m.. im sorry” he said hesitantly “What? I didn't hear you.” You said to provoke him.

He caught onto what you were doing and rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” He said making you laugh. “So what are you doing here?” You asked “well firstly i wanted to apologize and secondly i wanted to ask you out.” He said bluntly

“Well you did the first part now do the second.” You said smiling up at him.

“Miss heyward you wanna go out on a date with me ?” He asked making you smile at him and nod “Sure Cameron.” You answered making him smile too.

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yuujiheart · 3 months ago

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Once again gege brings our attention to yuji and his loneliness. Which ironically is very less talked about compared to gojo and sukuna although yuji is very vocal about it since chapter 1. In this chapter he talked about how it was difficult for him to relate to this simple idea of his grandpa not being able to / not wanting to endure harsh treatments since yuji can...

Not just that we also see how he was literally the strongest before joining jujutsu world. He didn't have any real connections,besides his grandpa and two club members only because they needed a 3rd member and after grandpa death he actually acknowledged how lonely he was and this is the point where he adopts this idea of having proper death....

This made me think that yuji really was suffering through the same thing that gojo,kashimo and yorozu talked about... He, like them couldn't relate to the weak.. He had this notion that him being strong,he is capable of handling things in his own way ...That's why he ate the finger and sent megumi away in detention center but that notion was destroyed as he was forced to admit that he was weak .We all know that breakdown of him..

After that shit happens as his idea of giving proper death,saving people was not just challenged but was thoroughly demolished, he was forced to realize how his convictions have no significant weight to it... He went through all the harsh realities and difficulties like a weak person, and had no choice but to keep going. Adapting cog mentality is proof of that as clinging to it was the only way he was able to keep himself sane.

I believe the reason why he didn't answer sukuna's question in 214 was because he had no answer to that. Sukuna said weak has no right to be happy and in a way it was what yuji was doing. He was about to sacrifice his life without thinking about himself at all, blaming himself for sukuna's deeds..

And then he saw gojo and choso dying.. He consoled choso saying he was there for him when he wanted someone the most ,choso saved him from that loneliness .. I believe by that point he started to realize how choso's death is not all that defines him and then he saw yujo and I am pretty sure this must have made him realize finally that people's values are much more than their deaths because if not he would be insulting both choso and gojo's memories....

And that's how he was able to reach out to megumi too because now he can relate to weak people or to say people's suffering, he can understand what megumi is going through and that's why he didn't have the heart to tell gumi to do what he did not want to do... He decided to be honest about his feelings.

And the same was for sukuna, I believe he thinks he can relate to sukuna that's why he tried to convince him.. Him trying to show sukuna his childhood was an attempt on his part to make sukuna realize he can find his value in other things like yuuji did....i think this is not the end for them though.. Because sukuna being furious is proof that yuji was right about at least something...

Honestly I still believe jjk265 wasn't about him denouncing his cog mentality , as it was a development,a phase whether one thinks it of good or bad , necessary for him. He has lived his life as being different from rest and he found value in death so he had to reduce himself to a cog to understand life and its value.. To be able to make real connections not superficial ones..

But yuuji still is the type who would sacrifice himself if he deems it necessary , after all he did it to save megumi back in the cursed womb arc and he literally agreed to sacrifice himself by getting executed in the beginning when he didn't have the cog mentality at all..

To me it was yuji finding the real value of life and not just in death because following that logic death of nobara,nanami junpei and all those people who died in shibuya will become meaningless since as per yuji that wasn't proper at all and that would be insulting to them and their memories like todo said....

After all death isn't in our hands but our lives definitely are..

#i am pretty sure yuji's loneliness will be addressed again through sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuuji #jjk yuuji #yuji itadori #jjk spoilers #jjk leaks #megumi fushiguro

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sgt-tombstone · 4 months ago

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Dance You Off My Mind

Civilian AU where Soap got broken up with by his long-term boyfriend and his best friend Gaz tells him to come visit in London for a week or two (both as distraction and to make sure that Soap isn't alone). Soap mopes for the first few days, and Gaz understands, but by the fourth day, he's over it and he drags Soap out to the nightclub around the corner to get smashed (hopefully in several ways).

Soap is hesitant at first. He hasn't been dancing in a long time; his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, he has to remind himself) never enjoyed the club scene, so he had stopped going out. For a while, he sticks to the wall, nursing his drink, watched Gaz on the dance floor. When he finishes his first drink, though, Gaz presses another into his hand, and that's how he finds himself three drinks deep and in the middle of the crowd, whirling like he owns the dance floor, not a care in the world.

Simon is ex-military and picked up a job as a security guard/bouncer at the nearest gay club just to keep himself sane. He has a strict, self-imposed (and possibly club-imposed, he's not really sure but it's never mattered) rule not to even flirt with customers. He's gotten more propositions than he can count in the years he's been here, and he's turned them all down. He might look good (he makes sure to keep himself in shape because it helps to both look like he could throw London's largest bear out and also have the actual strength to back it up), but he's working, and his job is to keep an eye out, to keep everyone safe.

The man with the mohawk, however, has caught Simon's eye several times. He's there with someone, but that hasn't stopped him from giving Simon a once-over so salacious that it should be illegal. He has to stop himself from falling into the man's magnetic allure, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his jaw against the temptation. The pair leave just before the club closes, stumbling against each other as they exit, and Simon tries his best to push them from his mind as he helps clean and close.

When he steps out into the chilled night air, he's shocked to find a mohawk waiting for him, the man leaning against the brick wall nonchalantly, and this time, he doesn't resist the pull. He pulls out a fag and offers one to the other man, exchanging names over twin glowing tips and exhales of smoke. As the other man, Soap (weird fuckin' name, but who is he to judge? He went by Ghost for almost his entire adult life), is obviously less drunk than he had been when he had left the club the first time; either time and cold air have sobered him, or he's a damn good actor. Either way, Simon has absolutely no qualms about tilting his head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, especially when Soap whines and presses impossibly closer, his mouth tasting of smoke and ash instead of liquor. His eyes are bright, clear, and eager when they part, and Simon can't wait to get this beautifully responsive man into his bed.

He ends up putting a ring on his finger, in the end, and all of their friends graciously pretend to be shocked by the news (though Gaz does roll his eyes and mutter "it's about damn time" when he thinks that Soap can't hear him)

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #kyle gaz garrick #civilian au #tombstone's epitaphs #tombstone's ficlets #I might expand this into a full fic or ficlet but for now I just need it out of my brain #inspired by the song Barcelona by Alan Walker and Ina Wroldsen #fag as in cigarette not fag as in the slur #not edited #all mistakes are 100% homegrown farm-to-table and organic #also sleep deprived so cut me some slack lmao

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sgiandubh · 1 year ago

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A tale of two brands

Sophie Mancini's Departures paper on S in NY started a flurry of comments even before the whole content was made available on blogs. That people - mostly in Mordor - jumped in to add their two booing cents on the matter, based on two or three Instagram Story screencaps only, is a testimony to Tumblr's community deep interest in S's slightest PR/sales move and the easiness with which people like *urv managed to push their own agenda, in the process, to her unsuspecting, bicep-loving crowd.

Many of these comments asked just one question, more or less kindly and more or less openly: who are you, Sam Roland Heughan? Some of them, more along my alley, took a different angle: who are you talking to, Sam Roland Heughan?

Let me count the US crowds: the Wall Street yuppie crowd? the old money, WASP Knickerbocker / Colony Club crowd? Tribeca's sophisticated, culture-ish snob crowd? the UN international crowd? the laid-back (-ish) brownstone Brooklyn crowd? the DC politico types? the Boston Brahmin crowd? the Silicon Valley Bitcoin crowd? the Florida Latino crowd? the Bible Belt crowd? the Deep South charmingly old-fashioned crowd? the yee-haw, witty and ambitious Texans? the gourmet, nature-loving Seattle crowd? I am sure I am missing some (it's been a while I haven't traveled to the States and I have to say I miss all 50 of them, plus and perhaps above all my beloved DC :), but you get the idea. And the problem, or rather its first layer.

The second question this very poorly written article prompted is: what are you talking about, Sam Roland Heughan? I mean, what destination are you trying to promote? Scotland, through your Scottish gin, which I truly believe is exceptional? The Big Apple, like a counterpart to Sting, you know - a Scotsman in New York? That's not very clear, since that superficial girl just whirled you to a couple Chinatown speakeasies, rat pitter-patter included (bye-bye, Knickerbocker crowd right there) and that's pretty much it. New Zealand, that you mention at length, Maori tattoo story re-hashed, just because the book comes out next Tuesday? Ha-wa-wee, perhaps in a belated attempt to mitigate Tunagate? California, even, because it takes you back to humble beginnings? Granted, the Frisco one, not LA: that would be a horrible faux-pas, in a NY centered paper, much like me whimsically and idiotically mentioning Istanbul (instead of Constantinople), in a conversation with my Greek friends.

My head spins. And then let's add to that a ladle of recycled talking points, yours and C's altogether, like this gem:

Aspirational. Mmmhm. She said that. You said that. Multiple times, in multiple contexts that probably didn't even call for it. This is *** PR right there. I am not JAMMF. I am not Claire. But we aspire to that. Stop thinking we are these characters. No sane fan ever did: the insistence is unnecessary and has a real backfire potential. Stop thinking, period. But let it be my shipper sin, then, not to believe an iota of it and stubbornly think you people are, by now, way past the aspirational stage.

So, I took a long walk down memory lane today, while driving, trying to understand what the hell your personal brand is. Once upon a time, things were clear: you and C were a single brand. S&C - the fresh-faced, candid, witty and funny and oh, so in love new kids on the block. The spark was real and it was strong (it still is, only dampened and muted by PR-prompted shenanigans) and OL's audience was under its spell. People loved you, both of you, and some of us still do. You showed us as much as you could and for a while, it seemed to be convenient for just about everybody. That created expectations, but at the same time, you could have sold us land concessions on the Moon and we would have bought them, no questions asked.

And then, things happened. We know what: IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-end. The spell was broken for many, who left in droves. Fans turned into bashing other fans. The S&C brand was progressively compromised and along with it, your Barbour Ambassadorship (for different reasons). Let's stop a bit at this point, in fond remembrance: that was the perfect pitch, for the perfect kind of corporate brand, for the perfect niche, for the perfect guy. A guy who had a credible, authentic story to tell, with a really strong potential to attract people outside of OL's crowd. Image and message perfectly aligned. Best case scenario.

So, with ***'s and your own PR benediction, what once was your solid gold starting point was ridiculed, trampled, shot to shambles, in a (failed) attempt to be sent to complete oblivion. You then had to think of something and try to branch out of both the blessing and curse of it.

MPC suddenly became more important than just any other charity project, of which there were a few (Cahonas Scotland comes to mind, the blood cancer one, as well). Cue in Sam the Athlete, Sam the Healthy Living Evangelist. The project was turned into a lucrative business, with a strong charity side. People bought subscriptions, people changed their eating and lifestyle habits, people lost weight - but really, I shouldn't write 'people', but 'women'. This was a women-oriented endeavor. A problem, again, on the long term.

Ha-wa-wee 1 happened, to more scandal and shrieks (that, I believe, was the reason you lost the Barbour project, another gold opportunity squandered because ten Internet bitches knew better). Then we were told another avatar was born: Sam the Entrepreneur. With a genuine, carefully curated, labor of love first alcohol product that clearly used the discarded S&C brand: The Sassenach and believe what you want, but just buy it. Mommies obliged. Antis obliged. Shippers obliged. All wallets are created equal, as I (often) use to say. And then COVID-19 came, putting a very real, very dangerous logistic strain on it.

Yet, you still had to somehow mitigate delays and losses. The Sassenach went exotic, with that limited edition tequila that probably won't be remembered by many outside OL's fandom, and that is a pity and a shame. The reason it won't be remembered is that you almost did not promote it, spare one or two Tick-Tock and Instagram clips. Does that justify the investment, the trips to Mexico, the very expensive retainers and commissions your tequila friends took for their trouble? I very much doubt it. That was, until being proved completely wrong, a flop. It brought absolutely nothing in terms of personal branding, spare perhaps a new faction in this paranoid cesspool of a fandom: the Gay Crowd, fueled by the image of a Lonely Bandana Cowboy, instead of the intended Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur. Yes, people are stupid, like that. Your PR and Sales team, too - and this comes from a place of deep understanding and appreciation.

We are now talking gin and boy, am I glad we do! This is perhaps an opportunity. Finally, a more democratically price-tagged, carefully tailored (again) drawing card product. But who is selling it to me? The California Boat Party Host? In that case, I won't buy it, but never mind me: maybe the fun-loving California Millennials would (we know the Smuggling Mommies would do it, anyways). The Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur you tried to show us again in Mancini's abysmal Departures paper and who is invited to important events, in recognition of his efforts?

You can't have the two of them, Sam, whatever those incompetents told you. You're either a 43-years old midlife crisis-stricken and shirtless clown or an Old World Industrious Thespian, with a stature and a status to match. A real Entrepreneur, not a cartoon scuba diver/beach boy Influencer. Eye Candy vs. Brain Power: after all, you are a '3x NYT best selling author', aren't you? Your pick, not mine. Stop the Sri Mataji-style Hugging and Booze tours: it's nonsense and that geriatric crowd is nowhere near what you need to make your dream come true. Do some real soul searching and stop listening to clueless 28-year old journalists, who tell you tacky rings are fun: they aren't. They make you look like an ageing Atlantic City Sinatra wannabe:

Sam Roland Heughan: currently at crossroads, trying to not choose between two opposite personal brands. Tricky position and an even trickier context, with the strike still lingering on and the pressing need to find an after OL strategy.

I promised you a tale of two brands and I think you wonder, by now, what happened to C, the other half of the primary SC brand?

The answer is, I honestly believe, not much. She has no personal brand, so to speak. Until now, she is just an Enthusiastic Dilettante. Book Club - started, unfinished and with that, farewell to any fan engagement. Cinema production rights - bought and then silence. Botanical Gin - first batch released (?) with no promo, no interviews (mentioning it in a podcast does not count), no reviews. Then teasing, then crickets again: a bit late, now, for the end of year celebrations. And I have to say I miss her or the part of her I never witnessed in real time (is such a thing possible?). I miss that starry-eyed, funny and witty girl. That girl was somehow completely swallowed by an Acrid Matron, who thought it was intelligent to yell at an Internet nobody, on Christmas Day, 'I am not married to Sam!' (ok, you aren't, but you're still lying). And I honestly don't know which one is best (or worst, for that matter): try to build something and make mistakes and try again until you hopefully find your way, or say nothing, do nothing and of course, never be controversial.

Now I am really interested to see how is she going to promote her gin. But you know what, I am not holding my breath, for some reason.

#BoozeWars

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 1 - Leather & Latex

Ghost x Soap - 4k (on ao3)

summary: Simon goes to a kink club looking for a masochist to beat. (Ghost POV)

cw: dom!ghost, sub!soap, sadist!ghost, masochist!soap, heavy painplay, undernegotiated bdsm because i didn't want to write it all out sorry lol but everything is 1000% safe sane and consensual

note: this is really not one of my faves of the month and i hate to start out on a not so strong note but oh well 🫠 hope you guys enjoy!

Simon leans against the bar, scanning the crowd for a potential play partner and swirling his glass of water lazily.

There are a few displays, but they rarely match Simon’s severity. He can hear Valeria whipping someone on a public stage, but her subs can never handle more than one session a night. Valeria’s as mean as he is - she puts on a good show, but always manages to get to the real painsluts before Simon can.

He needs someone who can take a few hits. Tonight his fingers twitch with the need to beat a pretty thing black and blue, he craves the pained cries and tears of a sub suffering so beautifully for him. None of his usual play partners are free tonight, all either coupled off already or busy, which means he’ll have to test drive someone new.

Always risky. In his experience, subs have a tendency to overestimate their pain tolerance when it comes to him. He tries to make his expectations as clear as possible going in, but it’s a coin toss on whether or not the sub will actually understand.

He’s contemplating moving to another club, listening as Valeria’s sub goes from shouting to screaming, when someone sidles up beside him.

The man is big, standing taller than almost everyone around him but barely eye level with Simon’s chin. He’s muscular too, defined abs and pecs displayed by his lack of a shirt. He’s got a chest harness on, one that wraps just under his tits and between them, a leather strap crossing across his collar bones and over his shoulders. There’s a little d-ring in the center - Simon imagines it’s for a leash to be hooked onto, considering his collar-less neck. He’s got something covering his groin at least, just a tiny and tight pair of leather shorts that Simon would bet money let his ass cheeks hang out.

He’s wearing an orange band on his right wrist - submissive, everything goes. Simon’s black band burns on his left - dominant, S&M

He raises his eyes back up the man once he’s done with his perusal, lets them linger appreciatively on his body. Simon’s always liked bigger subs, the ones who look like they can take a few blows and come right back for more.

The mohawked man smirks at him when they make eye contact, leans into Simon’s personal space with an elbow on the counter. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Simon only cocks an eyebrow at that. He’s wearing his own leather pants and a tight latex top with a surgical mask over his nose and mouth, meaning there’s very little skin left uncovered for this sub to see. “Cocky, are we?”

The sub hums a little more, moves even further into Simon’s space. Surprisingly, he finds he doesn’t quite mind the intrusion. “Aye, I know I look damn good tonight. You lookin’ for someone to beat?”

Ah, right to business. Simon finds he likes this sub more and more every minute.

“Yes,” he replies, turning his body fully towards his potential partner and straightening up. “Need someone who can take whatever I decide to give. You gonna give out in the first twenty lashes?”

That gets him a snort, the smaller man moving so close they’re nearly bumping chests. “I hope that’s your warmup. Takes a lot to hurt me, I’m a right painslut. You up to the challenge?”

Simon gives the man another long look, assessing him a bit more, trying to gauge how much of his tone is bravado and how much is genuine. “What’s your name?”

“Johnny. Yours?”

“Simon. But you’ll call me Sir. Are you good with the traffic light system?”

Johnny perks up, like he hadn’t expected such an easy agreement. “Aye. You want to do this in private or on a stage?”

Simon shrugs, already abandoning his water and stepping away from the bar. “Up to you.”

“Showroom, then.”

Simon smirks at the decision, somehow unsurprised that this little sub is a bit of an exhibitionist. He strides off to the showrooms, doesn’t bother to glance over his shoulder to make sure Johnny’s following along.

There are already several people sitting in the audience for the impact-play room, watching another Dom carry their sub out through the one-way mirror. Simon holds the door open for Johnny once they’ve both cleared their intent with the dungeon monitor, confirming that they’re using the traffic light system as safe-words and that they’re going inside with no intention of having sex, just of beating and being beaten. Johnny’s antsy through the whole discussion, nearly bouncing on his toes in anticipation. It makes Simon’s lips curl beneath the mask, makes him want to grab the boy and force him still.

He pulls the mask off once they’re alone in the room, uncaring about their small audience seeing his face.

“Och, you really are handsome,” Johnny flirts, sliding up to Simon’s side and eyeing him like he’s his next meal.

Simon wraps a hand around his throat, has him pinned against the wall before Johnny even realizes he’s been moved. “That’s not how you refer to me, Johnny.”

The smaller man smirks, licks his lips and leans forward so Simon’s nearly choking him. “You really are handsome, Sir.”

That earns him a backhand to the face, gets Simon a sharp exhale and wide eyes in return. “Watch the attitude. You’re already getting the beating you want so badly, bratting won’t get you anywhere with me.”

This time, Johnny’s “Yes, Sir,” sounds far more sincere.

He pulls him away from the wall with a hand on his shoulder, sends him stumbling towards a Saint Andrew’s Cross in the middle of the room with a smack to the ass. “Stand there, back to me.”

Johnny swings his ass as he walks, sends a sultry look over his shoulder. Simon is careful not to give him anything, just crosses his arms and stands tall.

He moves forward once Johnny’s leaned on the cross, straps his ankles and wrists into the attached cuffs and double checks he’s not cutting off any circulation. He stands in front of Johnny for a moment, cups his chin and stares deep into the sub’s eyes to try and get a feel for his headspace. His eyes are clear, sparking with anticipation.

Johnny smirks up at him. “You’re gonna beat me black and blue, aren’t you?”

Simon can’t help the twitch of his lips. “Oh, I’ll break you, boy.”

“You’ll try.”

That gets Johnny his second slap of the night, an open-palmed crack against his cheek.

“Watch it. You okay with being naked, or you wanna keep those little shorts on?”

Johnny snorts a laugh. “Take ‘em off, they’re hardly covering much anyway. Get the harness off, too?”

Simon scowls at the expectant tone when he steps around Johnny, yanks his zipper down and leaves the shorts hanging loose around one ankle. He gives Johnny a few harsh blows to his ass, goes until his own palm buzzes pleasurably at the sting. If they were doing anything more than a little painplay, Simon would take the time to work on Johnny’s attitude.

“You just naturally a brat, is that it? You’ll speak to me with respect if you want your beating.”

That gets a moan, has Johnny shifting in his bindings. “Sorry, Sir.”

Simon gives his cheek a smart tap, then a squeeze. He’s got quite the ass, this Scotsman. Simon can’t wait to paint it red. He steps back after a moment of feeling him up, scans his options for the night where they hang against the wall.

He starts off with a flogger. It’s a lightweight thing, with thin leather tresses that’ll make for a nice but decently intense warmup to see if Johnny’s as much of a painslut as he claims. It’s light in his palm, and he swings it in the air a few times to stretch out his wrist and build up a bit of anticipation.

He starts laying strikes when Johnny starts wiggling again, paints them across the boy’s shoulder blades and a bit lower to turn him a light pink. His skin is tanned, so it takes a bit of work on his part. Johnny’s silent at first, still squirming around like he can hardly feel anything, so Simon increases the force of his swings at just a bit of a faster pace than he would’ve with another sub.

Johnny lets out a little sigh, like he’s relaxing into something pleasant, but he stays stiff and upright on the cross. No flinching, no cringing, no whimpering or whining.

Simon smiles to himself. First test, passed.

He continues his warm up, lays harder and harder strikes along Johnny’s shoulder blades and mid-back until he’s painted a nice rosy color, watches him settle a bit as the sting starts to sink in a bit more. By the end of the warm up, Simon loosened his dominant arm and wrist nicely, and set the tone well enough for Johnny to stay quiet and still.

At least, that’s what Simon thinks. Until he steps away to set down the flogger and pick his next tool, when Johnny looks over his shoulder with a confused look.

“That’s it?”

Simon raises an eyebrow. “That’s your warm-up.”

Johnny almost looks disappointed, resting his chin on his bicep. “Oh.”

Simon doesn’t speak, let’s Johnny stew in his own silence until he decides he’d like to finish his thought. It doesn’t take long.

“Are your twenty lashes gonna be like that?”

He fights down a smirk. “It’s a warm-up, Johnny. And you’ll be taking far more than twenty lashes, don’t start getting greedy.”

He doesn’t look fully mollified, but Johnny’s lips tilt up in the corner and he turns his head back to the wall. Simon rolls his eyes at Johnny’s back - God save him from bossy subs. If they were any more committed to each other, Simon would lock Johnny’s little prick up for an attitude like that. He’ll have to settle for humbling him with a few whips. Not the least fair trade-off in Simon’s mind.

He picks up a cat-o-nine with particularly thin leather tails, the type that should leave Johnny hissing if Simon uses it right.

He repeats his process, swings the tool through the air a few times to let Johnny hear it move, let him try and guess what’s coming. Again, he only makes contact once Johnny starts his squirming again.

He whips across the already pinked skin. Johnny sucks in a sharp breath at the first hit, releases it loudly and seems to steel himself for what’s coming. Simon can’t help his smirk now, laying lashes noticeably harder than he might with another sub.

There are clear markings across Johnny’s back where the tails hit, little raised red lines making a nice addition to the base color he’s already got going. It takes Johnny a bit longer to go still this time, takes a bit to settle into the pain but taking the whipping nicely once he does.

The color looks good on him. Johnny’s an incredibly muscular man, and the way he stiffens in anticipation of Simon’s next swing - the way his back muscles spasm a bit against his own will when he hits a particularly sensitive spot - has Simon chubbing up in his pants.

He lets out occasional little sighs at the sting, noises that seem entirely involuntarily as he starts to truly lean into the pain.

Simon adjusts his cock and gives Johnny a break after nearly 30 lashes, doesn’t say anything as he waits for whatever smart-ass remark he’ll get. He shifts back to the wall of tools as he waits, picks his next instrument.

Johnny doesn’t disappoint. He doesn’t glance over his shoulder this time, stays nice and still, loose, like the pain is starting to get to him.

“They got anythin’ more intense back there? No offense, Sir, but it’s lookin’ like your bark is bigger than your bite from this end of the leather-”

Crack!

That gets a loud cry from Johnny, his head thrown back and his spine arching away from the pain. The bullwhip feels good, familiar, in Simon’s palm, and he turns it a bit as he watches Johnny blink wide-eyed, watches him sink back into the correct position with a stiffer posture.

“Still think you can take your twenty lashes?”

Johnny huffs, hangs his head and shakes out his shoulders as best he can in his bindings. Simon watches as he slowly unlocks each of his muscles, smirks at the sign of an experienced painslut. Johnny knows damn well that the tenser he is the more he’ll hurt, and as much of a whore as he might be for his whippings, twenty lashes with a bullwhip are hard to take even loose-limbed.

Simon lets the whip drag on the floor, then cracks it through the air next to Johnny’s side. He laughs when the boy nearly jerks himself off of his cross, let’s his voice echo menacingly in the room to work Johnny up a bit more.

“Gonna have to be still if you don’t want to hurt yourself, Johnny. Be good now.”

Johnny drops his head a bit, groans as he clearly talks himself into going still. He does so a moment later, body nearly deadweight against the cross.

“Attaboy,” Simon rumbles. He snaps the whip, watches the sharp stripe of red form on Johnny’s back and nearly smiles when he cries out again. “Start counting.

Crack!

“Ugh, fuck, th-three.”

“Nope, you didn’t count the first two. Start over.”

“You’re fucking kidd-?!”

Crack!

“Fine- shit, one!”

Crack!

“T-two, Christ…”

“I don’t think I like your tone, Johnny. Start over. With respect this time.”

He really does smile at the agonized sound Johnny lets out. Poor little maso, doesn’t even know what he’s got himself into by baiting Simon all night.

“We’ll do twenty-five, just to make sure all that nasty attitude is properly beaten out of you. Remember to watch your tone.”

Crack!

“One, Sir!”

“There you go, Johnny, good boy.”

Crack!

“Two, Sir!”

The lashes look very nice along Johnny’s back. Simon almost wants to step forward and trace them with his tongue, watch Johnny cry out at the sting soothed by the soft muscle, whip him across that same spot and watch him wail…

Crack!

“Five… five, Sir!”

Simon’s careful not to let the whip wrap around at any points, lands his lashes in firm safe-zones to avoid any serious injury. It’s got the extra perk of layering his lashes on top of each other, making Johnny scream when he gets one after the other in nearly the same spot.

Crack!

“Seven, Sir… fuck…”

He doesn’t allow himself to fully sink down as he whips Johnny, he knows he needs to stay alert in case his sub’s tone shifts to anything that indicates real danger, but he lets himself float into Domspace just a bit. He feels powerful as he whips Johnny.

“Ten, Sir!”

Johnny’s shoulders quivers, and Simon adjusts himself in his pants again. There’s something so satisfying about bringing such a large, strong, masculine man to his knees (metaphorically, of course, seeing as Johnny couldn’t fall to his knees if he wanted to, tied up as he is). Johnny had walked through that club like he owned the place, head thrown back and showing off every piece of his body he could get away with.

“T-Twelve, Sir!”

It feels good to put him in his place. To metaphorically grind his heel firmly onto Johnny’s back, have him literally writhing and shouting while tied to a cross, taking his lashes like a good boy. The sight of such sharp red lines over all those hills and valleys of muscles…

“Sev… seventeen!”

“Seventeen what?”

“Sir! Sir, sir, seventeen, sir!”

Crack!

“Ei-Eighteen, Sir! I’m sorry, so sorry, Sir…”

“That’s alright, you’re still doing good, Johnny. Check in with me - you alright to keep going?”

The look Johnny shoots over his shoulder is almost offended, and surprisingly put-together considering his previous cries. “Course, Sir. Am still green. Will let you know if am not.”

Simon almost snorts. “Back around. You’re not done taking your lashes.”

There’s a smile on his lips when Johnny obeys his command. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hm. Keep counting.”

Crack!

“Nineteen, Sir!”

Simon’s surprised Johnny’s as coherent as he is at this point. He’s never pushed quite so far with a play partner on the first night, but Johnny’s eyes had been nearly clear when he’d glanced over his shoulder, only a few light traces of tears down his cheeks.

Crack!

“Twenty-two! S-Sir!”

His last three lashes are the hardest, even though Johnny’s already taken so much. He wants the boy broken down to pieces, wants him sobbing and unable to control it, wants him trembling and gasping for air in Simon’s arms.

Johnny nearly screams the final numbers, each of them laid one over the other.

“Twenty-five! Twenty-five, S-Sir!”

“Hmm, good boy, Johnny. Took your lashes well for me.”

Simon lays the cruel whip back in its place, steps around in front of Johnny and cups his chin to raise his face and make eye-contact.

Those last few lashes did their job, Johnny already looks far more fucked out than he had only minutes earlier. The stream of tears down his face is constant now, but his brow is smooth and his lips quirk up into a little smile, giving Simon all of his weight and trusting him to hold him up.

Simon strokes his leather-clad thumb over Johnny’s chin. “Color?”

Johnny doesn’t answer right away, clearly focuses on cataloguing himself and the pain now that it’s not coming so consistently. Simon’s glad to see him take the time to answer truthfully, continues to stroke across his chin for a bit of comfort. Eventually, Johnny blinks back up at Simon and says, “Green, Sir.”

He can’t help but smile a little. “Want to go a little longer, then?”

That gets him a smirk. “If your arms aren’t tired yet.”

Simon backhands him, lets his chin go so he jerks into his own arm and muffles his groan into his bicep.

“Never met a brat who’s quite as much of a painslut as you. It’ll be fun to watch you beg.”

Johnny’s canines peek out behind his lips when he grins. “Do your worst, Sir.”

Simon gives him a sharp little tap to the cheek, another to his ass when he walks away. “I’ll make you regret that, Johnny. You’ll be sceamin’ yourself hoarse by the time I’m done with you.”

The gloves Simon slips on after taking his off are heavy, a little warmer than he’d usually like for daily use, but the sharp spikes down each of the fingers are what really matters. He tests one with a fingertip as he talks to Johnny, smirks at the sting.

“You wish. Haven’t had a Dom make me cry like that in years, you think you’ll be the one to break my streak?”

Simon smirks as he hovers just at Johnny’s side, feels the heat emanating from the sub’s body and watches sweat drip down his back.

“Oh, I know I will.”

He lands a sharp smack against Johnny’s bared ass, makes sure to curve his fingers just so to make sure Johnny feels each and every barb.

He yelps, jerks away from the sting and squirms a little in his binds. Simon bites his tongue to keep from laughing as he watches Johnny’s face go from teasing and a little dazed to shocked, wide-eyed and mouth gaping.

He doesn’t wait for another response, only begins to rain down smacks on Jonny’s ass. He’s careful not to slam the spikes too deeply - doesn’t know how Johnny is with blood, doesn’t want the dungeon monitor to make it his business when Simon is so close to bringing Johnny down - but that doesn’t blunt the impact any. With the spacing of the spikes and his own fingers, it’s nearly impossible for him to not layer the hits over one another.

Simon angles himself just a little further forward, to get a better look at Johnny’s face as he starts to writhe, starts to try and run from the pain. His face is scrunched up beautifully, tears dripping down his chin and to the floor. He grits his teeth against moans.

They go like that for a bit. Simon moves himself fully behind Johnny to land slaps with both hands at once, spends some time with just Johnny’s upper thighs for a bit so they don’t feel neglected. His whole back is red, from shoulders to thighs, and the sight gives Simon that rush he’s been itching for all day.

When Johnny goes from moans to whimpers Simon moves to the front of the cross, places his gloved-hands lightly over Johnny’s chest to get his attention.

“Look at me, Johnny.” Simon waits, gives the sub as soft a smile he can when Johnny’s teary eyes meet his. “Color?”

It takes a moment, but Johnny stutters out, “G-green,” with a breathless pant, his body loose against the cross.

Simon hums as he wraps his arms around Johnny, presses his elbows tight to the boy’s ribs and places his hands firmly on Johnny’s shoulders. “Good boy.”

He drags down over the lashings, watches with rapt attention as Johnny screams.

His face goes red with it, veins popping in his neck, spit dribbling down his chin, body fighting to get away from the pain even tied as firmly to the cross as he is. Simon smiles, strokes his hands up and down in uneven patterns without easing the pressure.

“F-fuck, fuck, oh my God, sir- sir, I- fuck!”

“That’s it,” Simon chuckles, gives a few harder presses into place he knows Johnny’s more sensitive and relishes in the sound of his scream cracking. “Scream for me, boy, c’mon.”

He follows commands beautifully, Johnny. Simon’s not sure he’s ever been so satisfied watching a sub break down, watching them lose all control and go into the pain completely.

He lets himself indulge in Johnny’s pain-filled expression for as long as his boy can bear, drags his hands up and across his most sensitive spots, squeezes his ass a few times to reignite that sting.

Eventually Johnny manages to blink hazy eyes up at Simon, murmurs, “Yellow, Sir,” softly, tears still dripping down his cheeks and his breath hitching.

Simon can’t hold back his smile as he takes the gloves off, unchains Johnny and eases his limbs down. The Scot is all dead weight in his arms, but Simon’s more than strong enough to carry one subbie out of a showroom.

He’s careful with the way he carries Johnny so he doesn’t aggravate any painful spots - he hefts him over his shoulder, keeps a hand behind both of his knees to hold him steady and resists the urge to stroke his glowing ass, to feel how the heat emanates from it. There’s a little drunk giggle from over his back when he flips Johnny up.

The previous Dom and sub have cleared out the aftercare room just outside of the showroom, meaning Simon’s got free reign to coax his sub for the night down to planet Earth.

He lays him out, stomach down, on a long leather couch. The furniture’s upkeep cost must be insane considering how many sweaty bodies have laid across it, but it’s in pristine condition as Simon sits.

He tucks Johnny’s head into his lap, turns his face to the side and gives him long, slow pets down his mohawk. Johnny hums a bit at the contact, burrows his face deep into Simon’s stomach and reaches his free hand down to wrap around Simon’s ankle.

He’s endearing when he’s blissed out, his little face peaceful and his limbs loose, his back covered in Simon’s marks and his sub seemingly all the happier for it. He’ll have to get some soothing cream in a few minutes, have to properly take care of Johnny’s body when he’s not conscious enough to do it for himself.

But that can wait. For now, Simon leans his head against the back of the couch, continues his soothing motions through Johnny’s hair, and thinks about how he’ll coax the sub into another session sooner rather than later.

#this one is so much longer than it was supposed to be im so sorry lol #ghoap #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 1 #ghoap smut #ghostsoap smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #hey google how do i get people to see my fic without putting it in the tags for people looking at like gifs and stuff #kinktober

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dragonbma · 2 months ago

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Miscellaneous Sky City folk (mainly Reginald and Milo) rambles because I can:

Being the head guard, Captain Reginald’s main priorities are tending to Benedict and Isa. What time he doesn’t spend with them, he’s usually at the jail making sure order is maintained and prisoners are well-kept. Because of this, he doesn’t spend much time outside with the residents of Sky City like the other guards do.

Being so close with Benedict, Reginald understands how crucial every little resource is. In his eyes, the worst crime (aside from harming the Eversource) is to purposely throw something into the void.

Reginald first met Milo when he was imprisoned for “egregious wasting of resources.” The captain was appalled to hear someone had dropped a block over the edge, but upon overhearing a conversation between Milo and another cellmate, he quickly learned it was an accident and felt bad for the poor man lamenting the loss of his garden. He did attempt to convince Isa to let Milo out, explaining things as a misunderstanding. However, Isa declined, stating that if she bent the rules for one person, she’d have to bend them for everyone. Although she did entrust a dirt block with Reginald to plant near Milo’s inn to replace the one he lost. :]

Time in the cell made Milo bitter. Before that, the innkeeper always been an upstanding citizen. He felt betrayed that his little mistake had not been seen as an accident considering he had no previous record of troublemaking. (Unless you count advocating for a less strict system of resource distribution troublemaking.) Chatting with Reginald was one of the only things that kept him sane in the dungeon. Milo often asked how his inn was faring without him and had occasional questions about the Eversource. I don’t have a good idea of how long he was imprisoned, but he does describe it as “a very, very long time” so I’m lead to believe a few years at least. (Maybe 5-10 or 15 at most?)

WOW WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE?

JOKING. I highly doubt he was in the cell for 30-40 years.

Ok sorry back to the rant. When he was finally released, Milo was overjoyed to find a dirt block with a small flower waiting for him outside the inn. He assumed one of his friends requested it for him.

The punishment for discarding resources over the edge is not only time in jail, but also having your requests for more resources revoked. This ensures that no one maliciously continues wasting materials. This is also a major reason Milo started Build Club: the law no longer allowed his requests for resources to be granted. :[

Build Club spawned out of Milo’s idea of a better world where he and his comrades had the freedom to create whatever they wanted with no regulations. It started with him rambling about his ideas to those who stayed in the inn and to his surprise, his beliefs were shared among many of them. Eventually his friends opted to save their requested resources to create the hideaway that would harbor the rebellion. Milo also had suspicions that land existed beneath the city, but Isa forbade him from trying to test his theory as it was dangerous and would likely result in loss of resources if he didn’t get himself killed first.

Guards seem unphased by outsiders which leads me to believe that people do occasionally enter Sky City, but probably use ender pearls to travel between islands? Honestly I have no good explanation for why the guards are so nonchalant to “strangers.”

The iron golem Jesse created in Build Club looks out for the residents while they get accustomed to life on the ground. It especially likes following Milo and the club members around. Isa probably questioned where the heck it came from and Milo accidentally let slip that it was from Build Club. “WHAT IS BUILD CLUB?” “Uh… oops.”

It took everyone a while to warm up to the Aiden after everything that happened, but the Blaze Rods did eventually redeem themselves.

The creeper explosion left Captain Reginald with burn scars. While he still does his best to take care of the founder, the sight or sound of a creeper causes him to freeze up.

Reginald calls Benedict “ma’am.” Send post. 🐓

Most of the folk in Sky City are tall. Not Milo though. He’s short.

Bonus: When I first played Order Up, it took me forever to choose whether to turn myself in or flee because I couldn’t decide whether I liked Reginald or Milo more. (Too many of my decisions are based on me wanting to get character dialogue.) Having played through both their paths MULTIPLE TIMES, I still can’t decide. They’re both neat.

That’s all I have. See y’all on the other side.

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm reginald #mcsm milo #mcsm isa #mcsm benedict #bermuda brainrot hours #bermuda ramblings #bermuda scriptscrawlings

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foreskinniest · 7 days ago

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Ok now that I've stumbled out of the Appalachian woods after getting some Bigfoot dick, I'd like to say a few things in light of recent events.

1: I hope leftists/liberals/the DNC finally realize that just because someone is le wholesome poc immigrant doesn't mean they're gonna be any less xenophobic or racist than your tired old white boogeyman. Immigrants in the US fucking LOVE closing the door behind them. Stuff like open borders or defunding/abolishing cops is stuff that sounds great inside of Portland slam poetry queer clubs, but is pants-shitting idiocy with any sane society on earth. And even appearing to be linked to those ideas is political poison, sorry to inform you. Nobody wants weak borders, not even the immigrants who crossed them to get here. Yes it's heartless, yes it's unfortunate, yes it's tough to hear, but now you know that is the reality we live in, because fear sells better than hope. The beatings will continue until this lesson is learned.

2: I've talked before about the need to log the fuck off, the promised Touch Grass Movement, and this is honestly the ultimate sign of that. Living all this time inside your echo chamber has been -- surprise! -- not healthy for you. Not only are you going to stress out more about things you cannot possibly control (how the fuck are you going to save Gaza when you can't even save your own rights at home?), but it's exactly what's lead to everyone being so hyper emotional and partisan about everything. Nobody has a reasonable debate anymore because they're used to amped up internet vitriol, which is manufactured half the time. Still care about the issues, be PROPERLY informed, keep voting (every time, not once every 4 years), and also go have an actual life outside of twitter and tiktok, which have turned politics into cheap entertainment. Your mental health comes first.

3: Yes it's gonna get bad, but we've literally already been here before. None of this is new. It's good to keep this in mind so you don't go completely insane. This country won't change in any meaningful way until it hits rock bottom and if this is what it takes, then so be it. Take care of yourself and the most vulnerable around you, that's all you can do.

#ive gone through all the stages of grief already so im at acceptance now i think #I genuinely wish Sleepy Joe had actually lost in 2020 #because Trump has effectively now had three fucking terms to influence politics and the country

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sagesolsticewrites · 8 months ago

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In My Arms

Sometimes your husband just needs to be held. (lots and lots of fluff)

Cowritten with @winniemaywebber! Also shoutout to Winnie for making yet another incredible playlist for this fic!

Warnings: mentions of cheating (but not really bc there was a war on come on y’all), definitely some historical inaccuracies in here, and plenty of tooth-rotting fluff with a touch of Emotions™️

Word count: 1k (short n sweet!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

In the months since Harry Crosby had returned home, your husband hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you.

He’d always been like that in your more… private moments, of course, but now it seemed to be seeping into your daily lives.

You’d be walking past him to the kitchen and he’d trail his fingers along your arm, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume as it lingered in the air.

He’d wrap his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you were bustling around on a cleaning day.

He’d pepper kisses over every bit of skin he could reach every chance he got.

It wasn’t that you minded— on the contrary, you loved it. But you were curious as to where the behavior had come from.

“Honey?” You ask softly one rainy afternoon as Harry has you tucked under his arm, his fingers trailing over every inch of you he can reach.

“Hm?” He hums contentedly, “What is it, love bug?”

“I’ve noticed that… well, since you’ve been home..” You fumble over your words, trying to find the right thing to say, “You’ve been… touching me, a lot? More than you used to before you left, at least. Not that it’s a bad thing,” you scramble to add, “It’s wonderful, and I’ve missed it so, so much, but… is there a reason for it?”

Harry sighs deeply, seemingly collecting his thoughts before he answers.

“When I was… away…” he begins carefully, “there were lots of things the men used to distract themselves from the anxiety and… well, our day to day lives over there. Physical affection was one of them.” He glances at you nervously, ensuring you understand his meaning before he continues, “I did partake in that once or twice, when it got really bad, but truly aside from that, all of my thoughts and wants were directed towards you.”

“I know, honey, I understand,” you assure him, eyes soft, “There was a war on, you— you did what you had to do to keep yourself sane.”

He relaxes, a weight you hadn’t noticed he’d been carrying since he’d returned suddenly lifted off his shoulders.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathes, brushing a kiss to your forehead before continuing.

“There wasn’t a lot of… softness, on the base. We took affection where we could find it on weekend passes, but if you didn’t do that, then it was just a bunch of claps on the back from your fellow airmen, maybe a dance or two with a WAC girl at the Officer’s Club, and not much else.”

You reach up to stroke through his soft curls as he speaks, and he unconsciously leans into your touch as he continues.

“So being home, being with you again…” he sighs, continuing softly “Having someone to touch me again… it’s almost like I have to make up for everything I missed out on. Everything that war made me miss.”

“Oh, my love,” you breathe, hyperaware of every inch of his skin touching yours.

It made sense. Surrounded by other men— soldiers, no less— of course they wouldn’t get the amount of physical affection they were used to, especially if they had wives or sweethearts, and to be stuck there for a year as your Bing had…

Harry lets out a soft sound of surprise as you move into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. You nuzzle into his neck, pressing every inch of your body against him as your fingertips return to raking through his hair.

He melts, his head nosing at the crook of your neck, eyes closed, even as he asks, “Darling?”

“Shhh,” you breathe, “Just let me hold you.”

You feel him sigh against your neck as his hands come up to squeeze you closer, even as he protests, “But didn’t we have things to do—”

“That can wait,” you assure him softly.

The only sound for several long moments is the soft sighs of your heavy breathing, until you speak up again.

“When you got back,” you whisper, “I was so, so happy. So ready for things to go back to normal, to be us again, that I skipped the part where I just let it sink in that you were home, and here.” You lift your head to press a kiss to his temple, “And I’m sorry, my love. I promise I’ll do better.”

You feel your husband shake his head against you, lifting his face to meet your gaze as his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb gently stroking along your cheek.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got all the time in the world to hold you, now.”

He pulls you in for a sweet kiss as the two of you melt into each other, a soft bubble of sunlight amidst a dark and gloomy day.

You keep holding him for what feels like an eternity. You start to hear him whimper into you, his whole body tense and shaking. You feel wetness from his eyes drop on to your shoulder and you pull away, concern all over your face.

“My love,” you say, your voice slightly strained. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Oh, darling,” he sniffs, wiping the tears as quickly as they come, obviously embarrassed at showing this emotion. “I'm just–just so happy to be home with you.” You reach a hand out to touch his face, your eyes also filling with the same emotion. You swipe your thumb under his darling puppy eyes, your heart beginning to swell.

“I'm so–” You struggle to formulate the words, your throat closing around all the swallowed emotion. “I'm so happy to have you home, too. I don't want us to ever be apart again, honey.”

“We won't be,” he replies, holding you close and kissing your temple, clinging to one another until your tears are spent.

“I love you, Bing,” you breathe into his ear, fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“I love you too, darling,” is his soft response, mumbled against your neck as he squeezes you tighter, and you know that you won’t let each other go again for a long while.

#happy mota finale day everyone 🥹#have some fluff to ease some of the bittersweetness <3 #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader #masters of the air x reader #mota fic #anthony boyle #anthony boyle x reader #masters of the air fluff #mota fluff #my writing

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 1 year ago

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I read your post about rewarding activities and it was really interesting! I'm phisically disabled and can only really do computer stuff, and I've always had the intuition that having all of my hobbies in here kinda sucks. But I don't know what tangible hobby I could have when my hands won't let me. Do you have any suggestions for that?

I'm not an expert in any such thing; anyone else who can't use their hands have any advice?

As a side note, computer stuff is less effective than physical stuff, but adequate if that's what you have. People kept sane in quarantine with Zoom. There's a surprisingly high number of cases of suicidal people getting a handle on their depression by playing Dark Souls. I warned about the lesser effectiveness of digital stuff because it's a trap I see a lot of people falling into, assuming that digital work works as well as any other kind of work and having the computer take the entire load and getting distressed when it's not enough, but digital work is still psychologically useful, just less so. If that's the limitation you end up working with, you can work with it.

Rewarding activities don't have to require a lot of physical activity, either; tabletop rpgs are popular, for example, if another player rolls your dice for you. Local poetry clubs or book clubs can also be great fun. But again the advice of other people in your situation is going to be more valuable than whatever random shit I (whose hand mobility is normal) can come up with off the top of my head.

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a-french-coconut · 5 months ago

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Luke Castellan (Part 1)

She's late.

It's not like her to be late.

Thalia is, in every aspect, a wild spirit but as the lightning striking the earth, she is always on time.

Especially since she took Annabeth with her, and gods know how much she loves the kid.

Luke does too, as much as a fourteen years old boy can love a little girl he sees like his sister.

He loves Thalia too, but it's more... complicated.

Nevertheless, they make Luke happier that he has ever been in his short, and frankly miserable, life.

He can't remember ever feeling truly happy in his childhood.

Not when he had to plaster a false smile for the worried teacher, reassuring her that his mother didn't forget about him, that she would come pick him up any minute now. Every day, without fault, he would quietly wait for her to get distracted and disappear in the city with no one to hold his hand and ask him about his day.

Sometimes, his mother would be sane, clear eyed. She would hug him, laugh with him, tickle him. She even made a birthday cake for him once ! The frosting was messy, too sugary but Luke had absolutely loved it . That is until he blew out his candles and she started screaming about how horrible, terrifying, atrocious the fate awaiting him was.

He never believed her, not even when Hermes didn't deny her claims the night he came back because Thalia needed to heal and it was the only option. He refuses to prove his mother right and nor will Halcyon Green's visions come true.

He'll prove them all wrong.

He is not going to betray anyone, he will not die some terrible way, eaten by a monster or something.

As long as he has Annabeth and Thalia, he'll be happy and the three of them can get through anything.

You'll see, I'm going to make it.

-----------------------------------

"Hey loser."

"You're late, very late even."

"Yeah, well." Thalia shrugs, Annabeth jumping from her shoulders, "we made an impromptu stop."

She nudges Annabeth, the little girl nervously hiding her hands behind her.

"Come on Annie, show him."

"Wait, you got me something ?" He asks them, "what's the occasion ?"

"Your birthday !" Annabeth states, "We got you a gift."

"Hum, sorry to disappoint kiddo but today isn't my birthday."

"Don't care, it will be now." She refutes, stomping her foot to close the argument.

He looks at Thalia, rather amused but also confused, only for her to shrug, like she couldn't care less.

"Well, I suppose that September 4th is not a bad birthday date."

Annabeth squeals and hands him what she's been hiding.

It's a ring, a plastic one she probably found in a shady looking store, with best big brother engraved on it.

"We don't have a birthday cake though," Thalia pipes up from where she's standing, looking at them with a fond look, "too hard to steal."

"S'okay, don't need one." He answers, still looking at the cheap ring.

It's the most precious thing he has on him now.

"Thank you Annie," he opens his arms to hug her, laughing when she throw herself in them, "you're the best little sister I will ever have."

They eat what Thalia stole while Annabeth got the ring, some sandwiches and cereal bars, and Luke makes a show about blowing out invisible candles, Annabeth urging him to make a wish.

I wish that we always stay together.

As long as we're together, nothing bad will happen to us.

Thalia with her braveness and strong will, with the lightning bolts dancing in her eyes whenever she's angry and with Aegis.

Annabeth, so young and yet smarter than them, always planning or devising some plan.

And him, keeping them alive by stealing food and drinks, using his powers to find them a house, his golf club doing the job when he needs to.

He watches Thalia shamelessly attacks Annabeth, tickling the little girl and they are both on the ground laughing.

They make him happy, his little sister and Thalia.

Happier than he's ever been.

He'll do anything to keep them by his side.

No matter the costs.

----------------------------------

They're running, have been for far too long.

His legs ache, feeling like giving out at every step.

"Come on, we're almost there !" Grover screams at them, urgently gesturing them to go faster.

Luke can see it, the hill in front of them.

Haven, salvation.

A chance to live, to do more than surviving.

Camp Half-Blood.

A place for all demigods like them to train, to learn of to defend themselves against the monsters trying to kill them.

It's almost there, it's within reach.

His feet slip on the wet ground but Thalia catches him before he can fall and he's running again.

"We aren't going to make it." She whispers and his ear, careful so that Annabeth doesn't hear it.

"We are, Thals, we are. We just need to-"

"GET DOWN !"

Annabeth's scream save the both of them, the tree trunk grazing their head before crashing in the dark forest.

"Get Annabeth, and run."

"And what are you-"

"I'll hold them off until you are up the hill."

"No, Thalia, I won't-"

"Do it for Annabeth, she can't get there by herself." Thalia's voice is firm but Luke can see her hands shaking.

She's afraid, afraid to die.

"Thalia-"

"They're getting closer, we need to go !" Grover yells, taking Luke's arm and tugging him.

"Thalia-" He tries again.

"Go. Take Annabeth and-" She wavers, her voice breaks.

For one second, she isn't the brave daughter of Zeus, ordering him like it is her birthright to do so.

She is Thalia, the girl Luke can't figure out his feelings for but know he can't lose her.

(When he looks back on that moment, he wonders if he could have persuaded her to run with them. But the second passes and he doesn't say anything.)

"Don't look back, don't look back until you are safe."

She grips Aegis, blue electrical eyes flashing in the night before she turns to face the monsters.

"I can't-"

"GO ! NOW !"

He runs, runs despite Annabeth trashing in his arms, begging him to stop, to come back to Thalia.

He runs until he's on the hill, looking at a valley straight out of Ancient Greece.

He runs until his body gives up, until he's throwing up and on the ground.

Thalia needs you, get up

He can see her, holding off the countless creatures attacking her, slowly retreating.

Help her, come on.

He shakily stands, Annabeth still crying next to him but Grover is now the one holding her.

Thalia is almost there, she's on the top of the hill.

A little more and she'll make it.

Below in the valley, demigods are running toward them, their weapons gleaming in the night, a centaur galloping full speed leading them.

Come on Thals, get closer and I can help-

When the cyclops' club hit her leg, sending her on the ground, leaving her at the mercy of all the others monsters, Luke screams.

His yells are entirely drowned in the sound of lighting shaking the sky, a bright flash blinding him for a moment.

When white becomes dark, there's a pine tree projecting a blue barrier all around Camp, preventing the angry herd of monsters from entering.

---------------------------------------------

He often goes sit besides the tree.

"Hey Thalia, it's been one month since we got here. I miss you."

"Hey Thals, I made some friends, a guy from Apollo named Lee and a girl from Aphrodite, Silena. They're nice but they're not you."

"One year, I can't believe you've gone that long. Annabeth is happy here, she's grown fond of Camp. I did too, I'm Counsellor now. Old one left and didn't come back."

"I'm tired Thalia, so tired. Hermes Cabin is crowded, the gods don't claim their kids. I'm angry, at my dad, at yours, at all of them. What good do they bring ?"

"Got a quest from dear old dad, can you believe it ? First time he contacted me since we arrived two years ago. And it's sucks, the quest has already been done by Heracles and... hum, I'm not sure to come back. It's a hard one, a very hard one. Annie is upset that I didn't chose her but I can't risk to lose her too. You were enough. Anyways, I have to go. I hope I'll see you again."

---------------------------------------

The quest in itself is simple.

Get an apple, come back alive.

Only the apple is a golden one from the Hesperides' Garden, guarded by Ladon.

But he comes back, alive.

He comes back with a open bleeding gash on his face, he comes back with ghosts on his shoulders, he comes back with a new hatred against the gods.

But he had no apple to present his father and the quest is deemed failed.

-----------------------------------------

"Hi again, do you ever get tired of me ?"

She doesn't respond, never does.

"I made it back, with no apple or the demigods I chose to come with me."

He leans against the trunk, trying desperately to feel her.

Luke is sixteen and he knows now that Thalia is more than a sister.

Nothing more than the rough bark meets his head.

"I prayed to him, begged him to save them. Nothing, not one single sign that he was listening."

"We were right to hate them, they don't care about us. We're pawns, their means of amusement when they get bored."

"I'm tired of it."

"Are you too ?"

The tree's branches sway with the wind.

"I'll find a way, don't worry."

As long as they were together, Luke was happy.

As long as he sees her tree, all he can feel is bitterness and fury against the gods who made her like this.

-----------------------------------------

It begins with whispers.

Incoherent buzzing in his mind while he sleeps, a voice rasping in his ear, murmuring about vengeance and justice.

Who are you ?

He's standing on broken glass, surround by a never ending red horizon.

Oh, little hero, my name is not to be pronounced by your kind.

Show yourself.

I will tolerate your insolence just this once little hero. Do not ever presume to order me again.

How can I respect you if I don't know who you are ?

So cunning, the voice laughs around him, echoing in his dream, just like his father.

I'm nothing like my father !

Oh ? the voice vibrates with amusement, do you wish to take revenge upon him ? Upon the gods who wronged you ?

I want them to respect demigods.

They never will, it is not in their nature.

Then, what ? I let them do whatever they want with us ?

No, little hero, you act.

How ?

Destroy them. Destroy Olympus.

Luke doesn't respond.

I sense doubt, weakness in you. Despite the countless times they prove their incompetence, you still believe in them.

I don't hold any love for the gods. I want to make them pay !

You cannot hide the truth from me, little liar. You are weak willed, tamed. You allows the gods to continue their reign of chaos and utter, unbridled depravity. But I sense your rightful anger, your desire to make a change.

Luke burns in shame and in anger at the voice's disgust for him.

You are wrong. I'll do whatever it takes to topple Olympus.

Then our interests align. Pledge yourself at my service and I shall help you bring justice to your beloved demigods.

Will they follow him ?

Renounce the gods.

Lee ? Silena ? Chris ? Connor and Travis ?

Let them face their mistakes, the consequences of their arrogance.

Do they share his point of view ?

Surely they do. They're like him, abandoned by their godly parent.

Serve me and I will help you in your quest of vengeance.

Annabeth.

Annabeth with her desire to make her mother proud.

Annabeth, his smart little sister, who looks at Chiron and sees a paternal figure.

But she saw Thalia die.

She saw how Hermes abandoned him.

She'll follow him.

And as long as they're together, they'll be fine.

I pledge myself to your service.

In front of him, a small golden piece appear, floating in the air.

Not quite, little hero.

Before his eyes appear a giant tomb, all grey except for the golden flake.

His breath hitches when he sees the gravures illustrating the rock.

A man eating a child, a scythe is his hand.

You're-

Kronos, King of the Titans, and father to the Olympians. Wrongfully killed by my sons, I have been prophesied to come back and raze Olympus.

The voice gets closer, now right in his ear.

And you, little hero, are the key to my awakening.

-------------------------------------

Times flies, Luke turns nineteen on September 4th.

He has long stopped celebrating his true birthday.

Annabeth grows anxious to see the mortal world, to get a quest, to prover herself worthy of her mother.

As for Luke, he spends his days recruiting, talking to demigods, trying to decipher their emotion toward the gods.

Lee is happy with Apollo.

Clarisse hates Ares but still fights for his name.

Silena is bitter against Aphrodite, for a reason she won't tell Luke. It's fine, he doesn't need to know as long as she joins him.

Chris, with his elvish features and uncanny knowledge of geography, is a son of Hermes. Yet, he remains unclaimed in his own cabin.

Those are the easier to persuade to join the cause, the unclaimed and the children of minor gods.

Ethan and Alabaster don't have cabins to house them.

Chris and Lila have given up trying to impress their parents a long time ago.

When he comes to them, they all say yes with absolute conviction.

----------------------------

The Winter Solstice, the only night demigods are invited to Olympus to see their parents and wander through the immortal city.

The only night Luke will accept his heritage as a son of Hermes and steal the Lighting Bolt of Zeus.

The King of the Gods is too busy drinking and flirting with nymphs to notice his weapon's absence.

For the first part of the night at least.

When thunder rumbles but not lighting strikes, Luke just got of Olympus, flying toward California.

He should already have arrived to Mount Tamalpais but he couldn't resist staying a little while, talking to other gods knowing he just robbed their King.

For his hubris, Ares catches him, the god of war almost killing him before Kronos took the matter in his own hands.

When he comes back to Camp that night, he suffers the most terrible nightmares he had since he was a child.

He sees Thalia dying over and over as he stands next to her while she begs him to help, to save her.

Stop this !

Your pride almost doomed us all and you ask no punishment ?

Please, I'll never do that mistake again.

He can't see her die again.

Please Master.

Stop your incessant whining, fool ! Despite your fault, Zeus still thinks Poseidon is the culprit.

But gods can't steal from each other, he'll find someone to blame, a mortal.

Wait and see, it has been set in motion.

What has been, my Lord ?

The Great Prophecy is upon us and she brings with her the downfall on the Olympians.

-------------------------------------

Are you sure of your choice, Master ?

Yes, the little hero is most fitting.

Percy Jackson has nothing of a hero.

He's a scrawny 12 years old boy, who just lost his mother and looks utterly out of place.

Until he douses Clarisse with water.

Until he beats him at sword fighting, when he is said the best sword-man in the last 300 years.

Until he single won against three Ares campers when they were for blood.

Until the hellhound Luke invoked attacks him and-

"All hail Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, the Earthshaker !"

A forbidden child.

A demigod fated to die only because of his father's name.

Percy is standing in front of him, looking at awe at the holographic trident above his head.

He is the chosen one, is he not ?

He will bring Olympus on its knees for me to crush it.

-------------------------

As expected, Percy is accused of being the lightning's thief and sent on a quest to retrieve it.

Annabeth volunteers but Luke is serene, there's no way Percy accept her as a quester, not with their parents' rivalry.

And yet, he finds himself wishing them goodbye on the top of the hill, at the both of them.

This quest is destined to fail, to start a war within Olympus.

"Good luck guys, come back safe and sound !"

Percy will fall into Tartarus, for Kronos to do what he plans with him but Annabeth and Grover will be back.

-------------------------

The deadline comes and the skies stay clear.

He failed, somehow he failed.

Percy, Annabeth and Grover come back, all glowing with pride for stopping in the war.

What do we do now ?

He hugs Annabeth, telling her how proud he is of her.

It's time for you to leave and assume full command of our forces.

He high-fives Grover and feign utter shock and regret and he tells him that the shoes almost dragged him into Tartarus.

We need Percy on our side and I'm sure he'll come.

Beware the little hero, he is as unpredictable as the sea in his veins.

He ruffles Percy's hair, jokingly asking him to teach him how he beat Ares.

What do I do if he refuses ?

Kill him.

He fights for a better world for demigods.

A world where demigods like Percy could live free from the gods' requests and whims.

Sacrifices are necessary, Castellan. You cannot make change without true acts.

Percy who looks at him with full trust.

Percy who is merely twelve years old.

Should I ask Alabaster to kill the child ?

No, I'll do it myself.

And Percy will join, Luke's sure of it.

If he doesn't, then he is part of the problem.

-------------------------

Percy refuses and Luke leaves him alone in the woods, only waiting for death to come.

Three hours later, Silena's report comes in and informs him that Percy Jackson is alive and that every body he is the lightning thief.

"Everybody on deck, now." He orders on the megaphone, waiting for all the demigods to assemble on Princess Andromeda's deck.

"There is a change of plans, Olympus is now aware of our rebellion but" he stops the hushes with his hand, "the King of the Gods is too stubborn too consider us a threat. He will ignore us as long as he can and since we all know he is a tyrant, nobody on Olympus will dare question him."

"Alabaster, you and Ethan are in charge of the army. Train them, make sure they master their powers and at least one weapon."

"Chris, you will scout for demigods, it is essential we find them before the satyrs do."

"Lila, you are in charge to communicate with our spy in Camp and then coordinate with me to know what kind of infos we need to know."

"As for the rest of you, try to reach your siblings, convince them to join us, to join the right side of this war."

He dismisses them, mindlessly twisting the ring on his leather necklace.

It's cheap ring, probably stolen in a shady store.

It was the most precious thing he had then and it is the most precious thing he has today.

I'm doing this for us Annie.

No matter how much it will hurt you, it is for you good.

When you understand and join me, we'll be together and everything will be fine.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan #annabeth chase #thalia grace #titan army #camp half blood #pjo fandom #pjo fic

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