#le poker

[lolochaponnay]

Salut! Comment tu vas ? - Mal! Je me suis quasiment ruiné, avec mes conneries de jeux! Mais j'ai compris maintenant. Pour moi, finis les casinos, le tiercé, le poker, le loto et les jeux de grattage! J'arrête de jouer! - J'aimerais te croire, mais je te connais, tu n'y arriveras pas! - Tu paries combien ?

[doydoune]

it's the year of our lord 2023 and I'm only now learning about Phoenix's and Maya's baker era

pov: you're living your best life making bread and a Lego figurine bursts into your bakery and now you have to prevent a girl from being burned alive as a witch

[doctorsiren]

Does Phoenix still go on a sabbatical after being defeated in court and does he also announce it using an extremely dramatic note?

Oh, most definitely. He is the MOST dramatic, so of course he does hehe

[musettastone]

Nobody asked, but here are some of my personal headcanons for various Lucky Luke characters hehe

Lucky Luke

☆Luke is short for Lucas, but nobody ever calls him that except his mother

☆Luke's father (who wasn't in his life, ditched before he was born) was actually an outlaw (though not a very successful one). Unlike Luke, he was a terrible shot.

☆Luke got Jolly imported from London and initially found Rantanplan as a puppy in Texas (before he became a prison "guard dog")

☆Luke is 24

☆Luke's dream vacation spot is Belgium (which is why his outfit is based off of the Belgian flag 🇧🇪)

☆ Fingers helped Luke to quit smoking (semi-canon I guess because "Fingers" was the first issue where he stopped smoking completely)

☆Luke was born in Colorado, but his true home is ✨️Texas✨️

The Daltons

☆William and Jack are identical twins, although Jack is taller because he ate healthier growing up lol. They both like to confuse other people on who is who and often switch names and pretend to be each other. Even Luke can't keep up with who is who.

☆Joe has NRP2 dwarfism, a rare type of proportional dwarfism. He is about 4' 5" due to this condition, although he has never received an official diagnosis (because it's the 1800s, lol). Averell, on the other hand, is 6' 8" and often has to bend to get through doors.

☆The only food Averell hates is chocolate

☆Joe would never admit it, but he has a hobby for stargazing and often likes to analyze constellations

☆William loves to cheat at cards while Jack prefers to play fair

☆Ages: Joe: 26, Jack and William: 24 and Averell, 22

Billy The Kid

☆Billy's full name is Henry McCarty (just like the real Billy The Kid lol), but he will smack you (or try to at least) if you call him Henry

☆Billy has a secret passion for baking. He loves sweets, especially pastries, and will often make them by the dozen

Fingers

☆Real name is Freddie (he ALWAYS spells it with the "ie", he insists)

☆Always getting his nails done, and he always has on 2 inch blinged out acrylics (another reason why they call him Fingers, lol)

☆Born in the West Indies, specifically Martinique.

☆Fingers is a traveler by heart, so he is always going to and from different countries, his current residence being the United States, his previous being France.

☆Best friends with Pat Poker, they love doing card tricks together

Pat Poker

☆Born and raised in Chicago (pre fire), which is where he learned to play cards. Cheating runs in his blood, as his father, grandfather, cousins, and siblings were also huge card sharks.

☆Builds card houses for fun with his gang

☆When he doesn't cheat, he actually hates poker just because it is too unpredictable for him, lol

☆Favorite colors are pink and purple. He has his office painted pink and has rhinestones with his initials on his gun

Others

☆Phil Defer is like 7 feet tall, even taller than Averell. He is also best friends with Elliot Belt.

☆August Oyster and Calamity Jane secretly would like to befriend each other but would NEVER admit it

☆Waldo Badminton has a blackbelt in jujutsu

☆Mad Jim spent hours in the mirror just trying to get that Lucky Luke combover right lol

☆Ma Dalton and Pa Dalton often went on robbing sprees for their date nights

[graysons-simp-nino]

Le Chiffre

[ultrakatua]

Writing smut first thing in the morning before I go to work to forget that in three weeks we've got the far right sweeping the parliament

[sebwayboi]

OC Christoph Schneider & Hans

[millenniumdueled]

the most important thing w rping to me is like, their Voice. like if I have a connection w a character I'm writing, I can read their posts in their Voice in my head right. and if a character doesn't have a Voice, it's harder for me to get passionate about them and commit to them

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

Honestly, he’s annoying as hell and idk what he was thinking when he said he’d fuck him 24/7

[ultimatelyunassuming]

Its been like. 12 hours since i started aa posting has it been long enough to post klapollo thoughts

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Charmed in Monte Carlo

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: During a solo vacation to Monaco, Y/n's evening at the Monte Carlo Casino takes an unexpected turn when a mysterious flirtation leads to a charming and playful encounter

______________________________________________________________

Y/n had been planning this solo trip to Monaco for years. No one had ever been available to join her, but this time, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She booked the trip, packed her suitcase with the finest summer outfits, and hopped on a plane to the luxurious city she had long dreamed of.

When she arrived, the bright Mediterranean sun greeted her, casting a golden hue over the pristine streets and sparkling water. Y/n immediately felt at peace, like she’d made the right decision to come here on her own. The first few days passed in a blissful blur of exploration. She strolled through Monaco's elegant boulevards, shopped at chic boutiques, dined in gourmet restaurants, and sat at sun-soaked cafés, content to people-watch as life unfolded around her.

Each café stop became its own little adventure. She sipped espresso in Le Café de Paris while tourists flocked to the nearby casino, and at a quieter spot near Port Hercules, she watched as yachts sailed in, glittering against the sapphire waters. She couldn’t help but imagine the lives of the people who owned them—what their stories were, how they spent their days. There was something about Monaco, the intersection of old-world charm and modern luxury, that felt intoxicating.

On her fourth evening in Monaco, she decided to visit the famous Monte Carlo Casino, the ultimate symbol of the city’s elegance and charm. This was the part of the trip she had been most excited about. She wanted to experience the casino’s history, glamour, and its opulence firsthand, even if she wasn’t much of a gambler.

Dressed in a sleek, fitted black dress with a plunging neckline that showed off just enough to be intriguing, she felt a surge of confidence. She paired it with strappy heels and a bold red lip, knowing she looked good but not caring if anyone else noticed. This trip was for her, after all.

The casino’s entrance was grand, with an air of exclusivity, but Y/n walked in as if she belonged there. Inside, the crystal chandeliers sparkled like diamonds, and the floor was abuzz with the sound of laughter, the clatter of chips, and the whirl of roulette wheels. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, taking in the sight of it all. The grandeur was even more overwhelming than she had imagined.

Not wanting to jump straight into the gaming tables, she headed to the bar and ordered a cocktail—a French 75 to match the elegance of the night. She found a spot by the side, leaning against a pillar, the perfect vantage point to indulge in her favorite pastime: people-watching. From her spot, she observed glamorous couples dressed to the nines, elegant women draped in couture, and men in sharp tuxedos throwing around bets like they were nothing. It was fascinating.

"Looks like someone’s lost in thought," a smooth, amused voice said from behind her, startling her slightly. She didn’t turn around, deciding to play along.

"Is it that obvious?" she replied, taking another sip of her drink, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Only because you’re doing that classic lean against the pillar, drink in hand, gazing out like you’re in a Bond film," the voice continued, warm and teasing. "All you’re missing is a tuxedoed guy with a bad poker hand."

Y/n chuckled, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. "Are you volunteering for the role?"

There was a brief pause, then the man behind her laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Not unless you’re looking for someone to dramatically lose all his money at blackjack. Though, I’m better company than most Bond villains."

"Confident, aren’t we?" she mused, entertained by his playful banter but still not turning to face him.

"Confidence is key, or so they say," he responded smoothly. "Besides, I couldn’t help but notice you standing here, looking like you belong in a movie yourself."

Y/n raised her glass to her lips, hiding her smile. Whoever this was, he was good—too good. The kind of flirtation that felt practiced but was enjoyable nonetheless. "A movie, huh? Does that mean you’re the mysterious stranger who makes me an offer I can’t refuse?"

"Something like that," the voice agreed, now sounding closer, almost as if he’d shifted behind her. "Though, I’d settle for a laugh and your company over a drink."

"Well, you’ve managed to get me to laugh already," Y/n replied, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with her drink. She glanced sideways but still didn’t turn around, enjoying the anonymity of their conversation.

"I’d call that a win," he said, clearly smiling now. "Do I get a bonus if I keep you laughing?"

"Maybe," she teased. "But it depends on how good you are at keeping the mystery alive."

"Oh, I’m very good at keeping secrets," he said, his tone dropping playfully. "But I’ll let you in on one: I’m not usually this charming. I’m just trying to impress the most captivating person in the room."

Y/n snorted softly. "You’re laying it on thick now."

"Hey, if it works, I won’t apologize."

They went back and forth like that, the conversation flowing so naturally it felt like they’d known each other for ages. Y/n was curious but also didn’t want to break the spell by turning around. Whoever he was, he was making her laugh, and she liked the mystery of it all.

Eventually, though, her curiosity got the better of her. After yet another playful jab from the man behind her, she finally turned around, ready to face the charming stranger.

Her breath hitched when she saw who it was.

"Lando Norris?" she blurted, her eyes widening in disbelief.

The British Formula 1 driver stood there, leaning casually against the bar, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "In the flesh," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You weren’t expecting me, were you?"

Y/n stared for a second, still processing the fact that one of the most famous young drivers in the world had been flirting with her for the past ten minutes. "I… definitely wasn’t," she admitted, her surprise morphing into laughter.

"Well, I’m glad I could provide some shock value," Lando teased, clearly enjoying her reaction. "But if it helps, I was enjoying being the mysterious guy behind you. You know, no fame, no racing cars—just a guy in a casino."

She shook her head, still smiling. "And here I thought I was just talking to some regular guy trying his hand at flirting."

Lando’s grin widened. "Oh, I am definitely trying my hand at flirting. Famous or not, that part’s all me."

Y/n laughed again, this time more relaxed. "Well, you’re doing a pretty good job. I’ll give you that."

"Only pretty good?" Lando raised his eyebrows in mock offense. "I was hoping for at least 'very good.'"

"Let’s just say the jury’s still out," she teased back, feeling a lightness in the air between them.

Lando tilted his head, considering her words. "Alright, fair enough. But how about I buy you another drink, and we’ll see if I can sway the jury in my favor?"

Y/n smirked, raising her glass. "You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Norris."

[walker-skull]

Poker face

Intenté poner mi mejor cara de póquer y observé a Dante mientras él intentaba hacer lo mismo. Dante ya estaba casi completamente desnudo, sin nada puesto excepto por un par de calzoncillos ajustados. Si bien verlo desnudo era algo que siempre había deseado, estaba planeando algo que fuera mucho más allá de eso.

“Escalera de color”. Tiré las cartas sobre la mesa y vi cómo el rostro de Dante se desvanecía.

—¡Joder! ¿Otra vez? —Bebió un sorbo de vino pensando que había olvidado que estábamos jugando a ese tipo de juego. Lo miré fijamente, esperando a que se quitara la última prenda de ropa—. Bien —dijo, poniéndose de pie y deslizando sus manos dentro de su ropa interior. No voy a mentir, había estado ocultando una erección desde que se quitó la camisa, pero ahora se estaba volviendo insoportable. Su polla se movió hacia adelante y se rió mientras yo prácticamente me quedaba con la mandíbula abierta.

"Perdón por mirarte fijamente, pero maldita sea, eres..."

"Amigo, juguemos. La última mano". 

—Muy bien. ¿Qué te parece si apostamos algo más grande? —Bebí un trago de mi propio vino y lo observé para ver su reacción. Era evidente que estaba interesado, de lo contrario no habría indagado más.

"¿Como?"

“Como tu cuerpo”, dije.

"¿Qué quieres decir?"

—Lo único que tienes que hacer es decir que sí. Sé aventurera. —Sonreí y la base de mi vaso golpeó la mesa de madera. Lo volví a colocar en su lugar y me apoyé en mis rodillas, esperando una reacción—. Esta vez iré con calma.

—Está bien, lo que sea. —Se encogió de hombros. Eso era todo lo que necesitaba. Si ganaba esta ronda, lo cual definitivamente haría, entonces él sería todo mío. 

Se repartieron las cartas y el juego continuó. Lo observé con los ojos brillantes. Se dieron vuelta las últimas cartas y dejé que él las colocara. Estaba confiado a pesar de que solo era una escalera.

—¿Qué tienes? —Se inclinó hacia atrás, con su pene flácido expuesto y su cuerpo resplandeciente.

—Flush —le guiñé un ojo y las cartas cayeron sobre la mesa. Dante gimió mientras tomaba otro sorbo y luego se rió entre dientes.

—Entonces, ¿qué vas a hacerme? Nada de tonterías de gays. —Bebió un sorbo de vino. 

—No te preocupes. No te importará. —En un instante, salté sobre él y mi cabeza se hundió en su pecho. Dejó caer la copa de vino y forcejeó mientras yo desaparecía dentro de su torso. De vez en cuando salía y me movía dentro de él para ponerme cómodo, su rostro estaba congelado por la sorpresa. Todo su cuerpo se tambaleó alrededor del sofá mientras yo luchaba por controlarlo, encajando dentro de sus extremidades. Flexioné los dedos y sonreí cuando gané, sentándome y mirando hacia abajo a mi repentina erección.

—Mierda, esto es jodidamente caliente —dije, agarrando mi nueva polla y acariciándola. Temblé mientras se me ponía la piel de gallina. De pie, me miré a mí misma, bombeando mi miembro y flexionándolo. Siempre había querido estar dentro de su cuerpo y ahora que lo estaba era lo mejor que me había pasado en la vida. Gruñí, acariciando mis bolas mientras sentía que me acercaba cada vez más al borde, mis abdominales se flexionaban mientras mi saco se tensaba. 

—¡Joder, sí, oh, mierda! —grité, flexionando el torso mientras me corría. Seguí corriéndose también, estirando la mano para agarrar mi pectoral y apretarlo mientras lo vaciaba.

[dolicekiss]

Heyyyy,

could you write a one-shot, where fem reader is James Bond‘s niece and has accidentaly met her uncle in the city, kept following him and this is how she ends up in the casino? Bond realizes this pretty quickly, but can‘t save her from an intrigued Le Chiffre, who kidnaps her. (With Smut?)

Casino & Cash

PAIRING: Le Chiffre x Bond's niece!Female reader

CONTENT WARNING: kidnapping, dubcon, drugging, threatening, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is twenty, Le Chiffre is thirty five), hair pulling, bratty reader, choking, sadistic behavior, mention of blood, praise kink, degrading kink, forced oral (female receiving), forced fucking, knife play.

SYNOPSIS: The last person you expected to crash into was your uncle, in Montenegro, on his own vacation. You were warned to stay away from Bond, as the man was on a dangerous mission but because of your young curiosity, you found yourself following your uncle's trail. It didn't end well because when you entered the Casino, you not only caught your uncle's attention but a specific banker’s too; Le Chiffre.

You hadn't expected to find your own uncle at a store in Montenegro, shoppin for a tuxedo, especially when your own mother had warned you to stay as far as you could from him and his line of work.

Never were your whys and whats answered, only subtle orders left for you to follow.

You were stubborn. Wanted to know more about him, about what he did, just what did he do that was beyond your understanding.

“Listen to me—”

You interrupted him. “I will not. You always ignore us and never even visit us anymore. Mom keeps saying to let you be but we're family, are we not?”

You didn't like just how easily your uncle had abandoned you. Just for the sake of his all secretive, dangerous occupation. It didn't sit right with you. Everyday, your mother would miss her brother and hope that someday he'd visit but James Bond had his own plans, to save the world and rid it of terrorist organizations.

Bond let out a grunt of frustration. As if preparing himself for a game of tough poker wasn't already energy draining, he now had to deal with your stubbornness. “You don't understand. You're only a child, I do not wish you to even have knowledge about all this."

“A child?!” You exclaimed, clearly offended that he'd even thought of you as one. “I am twenty, an adult. You wouldn't know though. Last time you visited, I was only eighteen.”

You recalled back to his short visit. Only entering through the doors of your apartment, discussing a few words with your mother and then leaving after dropping a bar of chocolate on the wooden desk in front of you which he'd claimed was a souvenir brought from Japan.

A bar of chocolate — for an eighteen year old.

It pissed you off just how avoidant your own uncle was.

“Just because I don't visit often doesn't mean I don't keep an eye on my family.” You shook your head at that, staring at him with a pout like some petulant child. Your father had abandoned you when you were only a little girl and when James stepped in to take care of you, your attachment to him grew.

So when he too took off under the name of his dangerous work, you made it your mission to confront the man.

But the last thing you expected was to see him here. Strolling through the mall, coursing through the tuxedos hanging from the metal rod in a luxurious store. Your mother missed him but her reaction was not as extreme as yours.

Before you could utter out another remark of disappointment, your uncle dismissed you by answering a phone call. Then he left, just like that. He once again didn't bother to look back and you suppressed the urge to stomp your foot on the marbled floor in the middle of the mall.

But you weren't gonna sit idle.

So you got to it.

Following him — like a snake slithering after its prey and tracking down its every moment. Subtle or not. Pursuing him lead you to Casino Royale. It took you days to land yourself a place at the Casino Royale, all the opulence and wealth you possessed came in help. Coming from the Bond family, you had access to all the ancestral wealth as well as the money James Bond earned through his work.

Casino Royal was beautiful and glimmering in pure opulence, the type of place you usually avoided as you were not fond of rich scums that looked down upon everyone else and considered the lives of middle class and lower nothing but futile.

Draped in black satin, you made your entrance inside the casino. Quick to grasp the attention of multiple gazes but you focused only on your uncle, capturing his blue eyes.

Found you.

You sent him a short smug grin. Like you'd win, you had found him. Tracked him down no matter how hard he tried to conceal his tracks and not be found but he had forgotten that at the end of the day, you too were his niece and carried his intelligence.

Without knowing what you were stepping into, you moved across the room. In your naivety, you'd laid yourself bare to the lion that possessed the front seat. Le Chiffre watched you move with such grace, your hips almost dislocating with how blissfully you walked over to the table.

To you, you'd won this game of cat and mouse. Unbeknownst to the real danger that your uncle so desperately tried to protect you against. He did everything in his power to keep you concealed but your foolishness and stubbornness had lead you to step right in the lion’s den.

As you stood behind your uncle, you wrapped your arm around his broad shoulders. Everyone watched, but Le Chiffre analyzed the scene unfold before him. Finger tapping against his temple, the sight of you nearly making him lose focus on the game. He was more curious though — a craving to unwrap the mystery that you were.

You were not an agent.

If you were, he would have known.

When your face came next to Bond’s, the gears in his head turned. He tilted his head, stare running over the both of you in scrutiny before his brain snapped.

You were no damn agent.

Nor were you an accomplice.

He registered the similarities between the two of you. You beared a striking resemblance to the man you stood next to, the lips and nose nearly giving away your relationship to him. You were a relative and Le Chiffre’s mind already was coming up with ideas and ways to use you as leverage against his nemesis.

“See, I told you. You can't always escape me, dear uncle.” You whispered in his ear, a small giggle escaping you.

Completely oblivious to the man with the scarred eye who stared at you with heightened curiosity in his one, dark eye. The other still holding some remnants of human emotions.

Le Chiffre also noticed the nervousness that decorated Bond’s face. It was obvious he was sweating at your presence in the Casino, not fond of it at all. Your naivety was going to get you in danger, as he saw how the men in the room eyed you like you were some new piece of meat.

Bond was an egoistic man.

He didn't care about risking a few lives if it meant saving millions others. Sacrificing a few people was a game of chess for him but you.

You were family.

He couldn't possibly risk you.

Especially knowing his sister would unleash hell about you.

The man was in a fucking dilemma. He didn't know what to do, but right now progressing with the game was his ultimate goal and aim so he did. Brushing your small hands off his shoulders.

“Just leave and don't come back here.” He whispered, and you looked at him. His blue eyes held no sarcasm or hesitance. He was serious and the look he gave you caused a chill to dance up your arms.

With a pout of reluctance, you made another grave mistake by ignoring his order and walking away to the bar. Le Chiffre’s gaze followed you and when you plopped down on the velvety chair, you accidentally made eye contact with him.

Appalled at how attractive he was, despite the minor flaw of a scarred eye. His gaze drank you up, every drop of you. From the revealed ankles of yours to the slit in your dress. He found it irritating it that he couldn't peek further into the recess of your inner thighs, the gap closed as you'd tossed your leg over the other.

You were quite young. He could see that too and something primal rose up in his throat which he drowned down with a glass of cognac.

Bond knew things were going to go haywire, especially with the way you'd captured Le Chiffre’s attention. It was good as he could win the game of poker with you distracting him but he couldn't possibly allow himself to include you in all this. Knowing that once you're in, there's no way out. No way to escape the clouds of danger looming above your head.

Everytime Le Chiffre went in with his money, he stole glances from you. Following how your stained lips met the rim of the glass of martini — his own throat beginning to become parched. You weren't oblivious to his gaze but the aura that levitated off the man like a dark cloud of death was a warning enough to not give him any attention.

You only focused on your uncle, Bond’s sparkling blues finding you. Continuing to play the game but also worrying about you and how he'd face his sister if she were to find out her daughter was involved in James’ life threatening games.

You had both the men all over the place.

One with your beauty, other with your blood.

Three glasses of martinis and a reapplied lipstick later, the game had come to an end. It was your uncle who emerged as the winner and you couldn't control your joy. Immediately embracing him in a hug and smiling at him. All the people in the Casino watching you, curious to what your relationship with James Bond was.

“Uncle, you won.”

Le Chiffre heard that.

Oh he did and a small subtle grin passed when he did.

You had to be his niece. You couldn't be his sister, nor wife nor daughter. The man was an agent for god’s sake, he couldn't risk to harbor his own relationships. You had to be someone else's. Le Chiffre’s anger subsided because he had found the right leverage against James Bond.

“Don't call me that.” He said through gritted teeth — shaking his head in disappointment. You blinked your eyes, dumbfounded.

Le Chiffre left the room, after stealing a glance from you. Already making plans to kidnap you and bring you to his knees, use you into James handing over all the money.

Bond had lead you outside to the parking lot, angry and frustrated. You couldn't understand the depth of the situation. You were only cheering for him but you weren't aware that by referring to him as your uncle, you'd stepped into the spotlight of danger and macabre. He pushed you inside the car and slammed the door shut, slipping inside the driver's seat.

“If you're told over and over again to stay the fuck away from me, why won't you listen?” You watched with a blurring vision as he slammed both his hands down on the posh steering wheel of the car. Your body flinched at such an aggressive reaction, succumbing to the leather of the seat you were.

You tried to excuse your behavior. “Uncle, I only wanted to spend time with you—”

“Fuck spending time with me. You're a target now, they'll do anything to get their hands on you.” James was a fucking mess. Perspired forehead and trembling hands, he started the car and began driving. There was only one single thing on his mind, to get you to the airport as fast as he could.

There wasn't even enough time to contact MI6 and call for emergency transportation for you. Le Chiffre had found out and you were not a human anymore — only blackmail material. A threat to both MI6 and James Bond.

The car drive was reckless, tears falling profusely down your cheeks. You couldn't understand what was happening but you were sure that something shady, something past your normal life was going on here. James drove like his life depended on it but then a blast roared through the darkness of the night.

Cutting the silence crisply in between, as the car came to a screeching halt. Its engine roaring out into the void the sky had become. You had no time to register the situation as the car door was slammed open, from both sides, and you two were pulled out. The strange faces moved aside and there emerged a familiar face, the man with the scarred eye.

He scared you.

Just by existing.

Your uncle was knocked over and pushed on his knees by one of the guards while another held you tightly against him. You couldn't give in, not that easily. Turning to the man who held you, you bared your teeth and bit down on his arm. His scream was cut short as he slapped you across the face, sending you straight into the grass by the road.

“She's resilient.” Le Chiffre commented, impressed by your act of rebellion. You were surrounded by guns, by dangerous people but you had the fucking nerve to harm one of his men.

That was attractive.

“Let her go.” Bond gasped out, the side of his head bleeding from the rough handling of Le Chiffre’s men. “Take me, but release her. She's of no use to you.”

Le Chiffre tilted his head. He walked over to where you were, kneeled down on the floor with a gun to your head. You accumulated the spit mixed with blood in your mouth and spat it to the side, glaring up at him through your thick lashes. The man fucking relished in how seemingly daring you were. He was going to enjoy you more than torturing James for his money.

He saw a challenge before him.

Le Chiffre reached for your chin, holding it tightly in his palm. Examining your face for any bruises and other than a busted lip, he found nothing of serious cause. “She's of no use? She's of all the use I need right now.”

Your uncle let out profanities of disagreement at the idea of you getting involved with the disgusting world of these men. He didn't like it — he hated it. He'd kept you seperate from him all these years because you were innocent. Innocent like the people he'd taken up this job to save.

“Fuck you, cunt.” You swore at Le Chiffre, glaring at him. That act of resilience only made you more attractive and he had to claim you.

He released your chin and smirked. “Drug them.”

That was all his guard dogs needed. Punctured with a syringe in your neck, you tried to hold onto your uncle before the void could consume you but you failed.

— ♡ —

You'd regained consciousness, expecting to be chained in some dark basement. But you were in a bedroom, as your hazy vision registered your surroundings. It was a serene room — sleek and modern. Too boring and dull for your taste.

After the cloud of fog dissipated from your brain, you finally scanned your surroundings in depth. You were on a bed, comfortable and soft and the room had a table in the corner then a balcony. You tried to get up but couldn't, feeling weak in the knees and thighs for some reason.

Your forehead was sweaty and your cunt throbbed. All while laying in an air conditioned room. It was quite weird to be feeling this hot and intense when the room was cold and the temperature was low.

You tried to writhe out of the restraints put on your wrist, but it didn't budge. The rope scraping against your skin and bruising it in the process. A soft whimper left you when you squeezed your thighs. Just what the fuck was happening to you? Brain fogging up and sweat oozing out of all your pores, you tried to scream out but couldn't due to a parched throat.

Then the door opened.

You were so occupied with your own messed up situation, you didn't even look up at who had entered the room.

Le Chiffre stared at you, as you squirmed like some worm on the bed. Back arching off once in awhile, lips letting out little huffs and brows furrowed in frustration. He knew what was happening to you, he was the cause of it afterall.

“Feel any indifferent?”

Your head shot up at his voice.

You hated the man already. He'd kidnapped you and your uncle, hurt you both yet — yet he appeared so fucking attractive. There was something terribly wrong with you because all your mind thought about inching closer to the man and getting fucked by him.

He was like an oasis and you were a thirsty woman.

“W-What did you do to me?” You managed to stutter out, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to satiate the hunger of your moist cunt.

You hated how needy you were acting, especially for such an evil man. This was completely against your own morals yet you couldn't help but crave his cock right inside you, to calm down the throbbing of your soaked cunt.

He smiled. “Just a little drug, to make you more pliant.”

Pliant? For what?

You blinked a little. Cheeks flushed and strands sticking fo your forehead. “You fucking asshole. Let me go now.”

Le Chiffre grinned and nodded his head, leaving you completely shocked. He came closer to you, reaching over to untie the knots on your wrist and releasing you. His actions left you puzzled, your blurred gaze looking at him.

“Go.” He said. “Try stepping out this door and you'll get yourself fucked by most of my men here.”

You flinched at his words, not even having enough energy to step out the bed. Le Chiffre ran his finger over your arm, sliding it up and you leaned more into his touch. Desperately trying to get more, to settle the ache in your body.

Le Chiffre chuckled, seeing how desperate you were.

“P-Please. I don't feel good.” You had tears streaming down your face as you reached for his chest, running your fingers all over the expanse of it. You knew deep in your heart that to ache for him like this was wrong, to want him like this was horrible but your body wanted to succumb to this need. This crave and desire.

To you, Le Chiffre appeared ten times more alluring than he did before.

He stood before you, one hand in his pocket as he stared at you. “Yeah? Do you feel hot, mon chéri?”

You nodded your head, getting on your knees on the bed as your hands yearned to touch more of him. Flying up to his nape, freshly done nails grazing over the skin hidden beneath his collar. You stared at him, unbridled need controlling each and every molecule and tissue in your body.

“Want me to fuck you, hm? Tell me, do you want to cum on the cock of the man who has your uncle captive?” You stalled for a moment, not wanting to answer that. Guilt and wanton warring inside you. Your own uncle was somewhere, probably getting tortured and here you were with a saturated cunt aching to be fucked.

By the same man who'd taken you and your uncle captive.

You didn't want to answer.

Fingernails digging into his skin out of complete hatred, your gaze darkened and Le Chiffre only scoffed. You were touching him but also hurting him — a sweet mix which he found delightful. He grabbed both your hands, pinning your wrists down leaving you in need.

“Tell me.”

You shook your head.

He snickered. “Then suffer.”

Before he could sit up and leave, you grabbed him by his face and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was haste and messy, your lips hungrily colliding with his, tongue trying to pry open his mouth. Le Chiffre’s hand went up to your hair as he grabbed it — bunching it in his fist and tugging on the locks.

He tried to push you off him but the way you were kissing him like a starved, mad woman, it made his wall crumble apart.

You whimpered, pushing your body up against his. Trying to feel him, to rub your body all over his. Le Chiffre knew the drug had taken its affect on you but he didn't know you'd be this desperate. Hungrily sucking on his tongue and slurping up his saliva, like you needed him.

He could feel his spit mixed with yours smearing all over his mouth.

When he pulled away, he found you looking back at him with the most vulnerable and submissive look ever. Pants tightening at the mere sight of you looking this messed up, Le Chiffre felt his restraint slip away as he tossed you on the bed.

“Please,” you moaned, parting your legs like some common whore. “use me—ruin me, please.”

Le Chiffre had enough. He didn't waste time, ripping the dress to shreds and tossing its littered pieces everywhere. Cold hands groping you everywhere, acting like numbing gel to your fiery skin. He rid you of your panties too, prying your thighs open and exposing your sweet cunt to him.

The man brought his head down to your thighs, nuzzling it between them. His hands gripping each thigh tightly, fingers dipping into the flesh. “Look at your little hole clenching around nothing but air. How fucking embarrassing and disgusting.”

You responded with a whine, both hands dropping down to grab onto his neatly done hair.

He blowed air on your clit, watching it twitch and he chuckled. You were fucking pathetic and small and weak. All at his mercy and right now he could do whatever he wished to do with you. Humiliate you, hurt you, ruin you, fuck you. Just a doll for him to play with.

In a moment of regained control of your morals, you started to punch at his shoulders to move him away from you. Torn between the desperate chase for pleasure and the despair that awaited you at the end of this debauchery.

Le Chiffre didn't like how you still fought off the effects of the drug.

Releasing your thigh, he grasped both your wrists in a tight hold and pressed them over your stomach. “Enough. Don't fight it unless you want me to call in every guard outside so they can see you like this.”

Your act of defiance fell apart.

He ran his wet tongue over the slit of your cunt and your breath hitched, body twitching and back rising from the mattress. Striking you across your thigh, he pushed it up and bent your knee. Exposing more of your cunt to him. “Stay still.”

“C-Can’t. Feels too good.” You whimpered out, wrists struggling in his hold. You wished to be free, to kick and throw your hands everywhere. A pathetic mess of hopelessness and sin you were, sprawled across the bed for him to unfurl.

He chuckled against your cunt, before closing his lips around your clit. He sucked on it with vigor as you felt his sharp teeth nearly prickle the sensitive bud. Due to the drug, your body's sensitivity and senses had heightened, twitching in his hold everytime he touched you in the slightest.

You stared at him and in return he did the same, his scarred eye only fueling the ache in your abdomen. He was truly a beautiful man, the most attractive man you'd ever seen but his deeds were as ugly as his insides. There he laid before your very legs, using his skilled tongue to pull you into a deeper abyss.

Le Chiffre unwrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue made its way past your wet folds, plunging inside your hole. Tears rolled down your face as you attempted to free yourself from the restraint his hand was around your wrists.

“Wanna hold your hair, please. Just wanna hold it.” You were a sputtering mess and the man found you quite innocent in that very moment but he knew you were also a brat who'd given him a hard time. “You want to hold my hair, hm? You pathetic little whore. Want to hold my hair as I eat your little cunt while my men torture your uncle downstairs?”

Intaking a sharp breath, you didn't know what to do. As if his actions weren't already disgraceful, his words made you feel sick too. You whimpered for him, a simple plea to be freed and Le Chiffre grinned, slowly retracting his hands. The second he did, your fingers found themselves entangled between his dark silky locks. His intimidating eyes swallowing you whole as he continued his ministrations.

You could feel yourself near.

Stomach flipping and twisting into crazy knots, thighs suffering from convulsions. He only admired the view before him — a beauty with flushed, rosette cheeks and perspired forehead staring back at him. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, a night that was his last. His saliva with a mix of your arousal falling down his chin.

“You taste so good, doll. Fucking delicious against my tongue.” He grunted, fucking you with his rigid tongue.

And you soon reached your own end, back arching off the bed and a high pitched scream tearing through your chest. Your throat parched and dry from all the sounds you'd made. Le Chiffre watched you as you became more of a mess underneath him, your arousal coating his tongue.

He licked you up like a dog, panting and melting in the taste your little body had to offer. Hands holding you down against the bed, he took in the sight of your eyes meeting the back of your skull and your body falling apart.

And when you'd came down from your blissful high, you found the ache in your pussy to only grow more intense. In need of something, something that only Le Chiffre could offer you.

In a few seconds, the man had hastily stripped himself naked. When your blitzed gaze fell lower and you grasped the sheer size of his cock — it dismayed you. In an attempt to run from him, you tried to slid off the soft mattress but Le Chiffre was quick to grasp your legs, tugging you closer to him. Until he was settled between your thighs, both hands holding your knees apart.

“Getting kidnapped and the idea of torture doesn't scare you but the size of my cock does? How fucking ironic.” Le Chiffre chuckled, firmly locking you in place.

He brought his hand upto your mouth. “Spit.”

You shook your head, stubborn. Torn between the ache of your cunt and the guilt about your uncle, you fought an inner battle inside you. Your body craved him but your mind reminded you just who he was, what he'd done to you and your uncle.

Just how evil he was.

He let out a groan of frustration, his fingers entangling in your dark locks as he gripped on the roots. “Fucking spit.”

You whimpered at the harsh tug and gathered saliva in your mouth, before spitting a glob out on his open palm. Le Chiffre hummed in satisfaction and ran the wet palm over his cock, lubricating it. You stared at him with hooded eyes as rubbed his fat cockhead against your clit — before entering you in one, harsh thrust.

A loud high pitched moan tore through you, the painful stretch surging your body forward.

He told hold of one thigh and hiked it up, bending your knee to angle his cock deeper inside you. The position gave him access to more depth of your gummy tight walls and the man growled, loving the feeling how you'd clamped down on him.

Walls clinging to him in desperate. Cunt trying to suck his cock, to consume him whole. Tears emerged on your waterline, tear ducts nearly expoding as Le Chiffre allowed you to grow used to his size. His delicious girth stretched you out like no other as your hips writhed underneath him.

He pushed until he had completely pressed his pelvis against yours. Becoming one with you.

“One might think you're a virgin from how fucking tight you are.” He grunted, staring down at you. Once neatly done hair now a mess, few strands slipping through the grasp of gel and hovering over his wet sweaty forehead.

Le Chiffre started to snap his hips against yours, holding you down as he took you against your will. Your perpetual cries and struggles loud and reverberating through the corners of the luxurious room. You tried to hit him — hands messily attempting to deliver a few smacks to his bare chest.

So he grabbed both your wrists and forcefully slammed them down, restraining you against the mattress. His one perfect eye holding all the anger and frustration that he soon was going to take out on you.

“Even the drug can't take the bratty behavior out of you.” Le Chiffre groaned, sliding in and out if you. “Your little pussy is soaked and throbbing for me but you still want to show off your morals.”

You sniffled at his words and he watched as a lone tear slid down. You looked so sinful and the man was not going to release you anytime sooner. He had big plans for you, especially now that he'd figured you were related to his nemesis.

Poor girl caught up in their evil games.

“I-I hate you.” You said, through broken moans and ragged breaths. Le Chiffre genuinely found it amusing when you'd expressed your hatred for him. It only added fuel to his desire, his thrusts going more vigorous as he stepped his foot up on the bed.

Both his hands flew to your throat — circling around to cut off your air supply. Your fists banged over his chest, at his arms and wrists but you were extremely pathetic against the man. Grip tightening with each second, he admired the way your face slowly turned almost a pale hue of blue. Back arching off the bed and body struggling.

Then he released you.

Just when your lungs had swelled up in dire need of oxygen, veins going numb.

“Wish I could kill you.” Le Chiffre moaned, hands still decorating your throat in bruises as the brute force of his strokes hit your sensitive spot. Feeling his thick cockhead repeatedly slam into your gspot and everytime he did, your body jerked. “But you're so much more useful like this. Killing you would be a waste of a good cunt.”

You loathed the way he spoke to you like you were some whore.

Face drenched in sweat and tears, your stomach heated up with a feeling that you deeply tried to suppress. Le Chiffre felt you grip his cock like a vice, realizing that you were hear. As was he.

His animalistic like thrusts continued delivering into you, and you sobbed whenever a vein of his cock throbbed inside you. It was all too vivid and raw. You could feel things that you were sure you wouldn't under a normal setting. The drug he'd used had heightened your senses and you hated just how good Le Chiffre was making you feel.

His hand unwrapped your throat, slipping between your legs to run over your swollen little bud. Your thighs twitched as he pounded into you, all while forcefully pulling an orgasm out of you.

Soon you came all over him — body twitching and trembling. He'd fucked your orgasm out of you, watching as you made a mess everywhere. Creaming all over his cock and the sight made him spill too, coating your walls with his thick seed. Your eyes rolled back and your lips shuddered, falling agape.

“Yeah there it is. Little cunt is so fucking tight, so very fucking tight.” He rode out his own release, with endless grunts and growls of pleasure. It only acted as an addition to your need for him.

He looked so attractive.

While he sinned inside you.

Le Chiffre grunted, fucking his cum back into you and by this point you were too far gone into oblivion. You allowed it to happen, frail body a victim of dehydration and the dehumanizing act done by Le Chiffre was too overwhelming so you didn't register it. Blocked it away and went numb.

He stared down at you, hand slowly reaching for your face. You flinched, expecting something rough or a hit even but instead came a gentle stroke from his thumb over your soaked cheek. “You're absolutely gorgeous, especially like this.” He licked the tear he collected on his thumb, before pulling out of you and dropping besides you.

Your breathing was torn, gradually becoming even with time. You turned away from him, not caring about anything anymore. You'd missed your uncle, and such a simple relationship lead to this. If you'd known, you would've always steered clear of James Bond and the people around him.

In a way, you deemed it to be your fault too.

“You didn't know, did you?”

Le Chiffre’s deep voice broke the silence, as a strong arm was tossed over you from behind.

You knew what he was referring to. Of course you didn't know your uncle was involved in some shady shit like this. If they had told you, if your mother had just been clear about all this, none of the monstrosities you faced tonight would've happened.

“Innocents often lose their lives amidst wars caused by others.” If you didn't know how cruel the man was, you would've assumed for a split second that these were words of reassurance but these were mere taunts — to remind you that he'd captured you.

You were leverage now.

For him.

[chronicdisasterwrites]

alcohol isn’t for the weak gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru, shoko ieiri

genre + warnings: -underage alcohol consumption, a lot of swearing, reader slaps gojo around, pining, overall FLUFF!

word count: 3,380 (i was gonna write more but i’m lazy)

authors note: So this is the sequel of my fic “gotta keep these kids on leashes”. The dynamic quartet is back and up to no good yet again :3 There will for sure be a continuation and it just might end up being a series going through their lives. Also, this takes place before Riko and Toji, so basically their teenage days when everything was good and dandy :’)

enjoy this chaos <3

“You absolute, fucking lightweight.”

With tired bones, eyes, soul and mind, Geto’s glare remains steadily fixed on the drunken mess sprawled on the ground before him. Gojo Satoru was a complex human being. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world; the first person in 400 years to possess both Limitless and the Six Eyes, his strength knew no bounds - except when it came to alcohol.

“Suuuguruuu~” Gojo slurred along with several incoherent words mushed in between giggles.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Geto leaned his head against his ajar door and shut his eyes, thinking of all the incredibly painful ways by which he could murder and then dispose of his best friend’s wasted body. His anger wasn’t uncalled for, of course. It was a long day for Geto and all he wanted to do after spending an entire day killing one particularly difficult curse followed by a couple extra (albeit easier to defeat) surprise curses was take a nice long shower, go into his dorm and sleep like a corpse. He had a feeling it was too good to be true when he didn’t get 30 calls from Gojo by the time the sun had set and he had stepped into campus. He was even more surprised when he got out of the shower and came back to 0 notifications from the “pain in everyone’s ass” sorcerer. Gojo always knew when Geto had missions, and more so he would always know when Geto would be gone for the entire day. On days such as this one, he would usually go and bother literally anyone else he could find around him; when desperate, Yaga, but that would never end well for him, so that would only be reserved for very special occasions.

“Satoru, just why…” Geto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering what he did to deserve this torture.

“I had soooo much fun t’dayyy,” Gojo slurs and laughs much too loudly considering the time.

“Les go out, the night is youuung like you and me and Mochi and Shoko- but…” He pauses, sits up then looks directly at Geto, suddenly serious. Geto squints, expecting something stupid as per usual.

“...Not like…” Cracks appear on his half-assed poker face and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as his lips twitch. “Not like…Yaga AHHAAHA-”

Laughter explodes from his chest as he falls back on the ground, rolling around clutching his stomach as if he just cracked the world’s funniest joke. Geto on the other hand, was not phased. In fact, he was preparing to be violent. Inhaling and then exhaling deeply, Geto stood straighter, thinking of ways he could make this night go his way. A few weeks prior to this moment in the present, Gojo along with his posse played an almost funny practical joke on Geto, which ended up costing him a date with a girl and 10 of his brain cells. Since then, Geto had been pondering day and night on exactly what he could do to get Gojo back. There were a few weaknesses the strongest sorcerer had which Geto knew of. One being, his obvious lack of alcohol tolerance, and two being his stupidly obvious crush on you. (not Shoko, although he definitely finds her hot).

Geto knows all about Gojo’s embarrassing feelings for you but he still has no solid evidence on whether the feelings are reciprocated or not.

Suddenly, his train of thought comes to a stop as his eyes glint with mischief. He grabs Gojo’s arm and starts to drag him along the hallway. Gojo doesn't even bother standing up to walk. Instead he lets his best friend drag him like a sack of potatoes, with no care in the world as to where he might be taking him.

“What the heck?! Suguru?! Where are we goin-”

They stop and Geto aggressively knocks on a door. Freshly painted, different from the rest. Immediately, he drops Gojo’s arm and sprints back to his dorm before Gojo’s little brain could even begin to process what had happened.

“Satoru…what the fuck?”

You rub your eyes and glare at the drunken mess sprawled before your dorm door and rub your eyes again, hoping he’d disappear the next time you look. He doesn’t. And you actually hear a mechanical click in your brain when the idiot starts grinning as if it wasn’t 3am and he didn’t just ruin your perfect slumber. Yet again.

“Mochi!!! You’re here! I missed yo- HEY! OUCH! WHY- STOP HITTIN ME-”

“I SHOULD KILL YOU-” slap

“IDIOT,” slap

“WHY CAN’T YOU EVER LET ME SLEEP IN PEACE?!” slap

You wanted to throttle him. But you figured 3 slaps were enough for now. You honestly felt kind of bad seeing him curled up in a ball on the floor and you worried whether you went too far or not.

“I’m sorry… I just missed you s’all,” His voice was soft, gentle even, and that made you feel even worse. Your shoulders slump and your head drops as an exasperated sigh escapes your mouth.

Why is he like this?

You crouch next to his curled up form and stare at his disheveled silver hair. He doesn’t look at you, in fact his eyes remain closed. His hands cover his ears and he literally looks like a kicked puppy and you feel so awful. You roll your eyes and sigh.

Ugh, damn him.

“Okay. Satoru, I’m sorry for hitting you.”

He doesn’t move.

You pinch your nose bridge and decide to take the high road. He is drunk after all, you think. Reaching out, you run your fingers through his soft hair. His shoulders relax at that and the corner of his mouth quirks up ever so slightly. You stifle a laugh at his childishness and grab his chin, tilting his head to face you. Finally, he opens his eyes and stares at you as a gradual, natural smile slowly takes over his face. You smile back and at the back of your mind, you think how stupid you two must look right now. In the middle of the night, your dorm door wide open, Satoru sprawled on the floor of the hallway, you crouched near his head while the two of you stared at each other like something straight out of Spiderman. Except, you won’t kiss him. That’s never going to happen.

You let go of his chin and flick his nose. He huffs a short laugh, rubbing the spot and attempting to return the favor. You grab his wrist before he could deliver the blow and say, “You still drunk?”

Satoru hums, eyes shiny, “A little?”

He grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, snorting as you glare at him.

“Y’know… you don’t look as scary with your face like this,” He emphasizes his point with ‘awww’s’ and ‘you’re so cuteee’s’ and you can’t help but laugh at this blatant humiliation. You move his hand away and stand up, holding out your hand and expecting him to take it.

“Alright, c’mon. Get up.”

Satoru groans much too loudly and proceeds to throw his arms down and stretch his legs like a starfish.

“Noooo, just stay w’ meee,” He whines like a petulant child and you smile.

Damn him.

You consider bringing him into your dorm and spending the entire night with him doing nothing. Maybe talking, laughing. But you quickly discard that horrifying thought. He’s Gojo Satoru. Your best friend. Nothing romantic could ever happen between you two because he is Gojo Satoru and you are nobody. He is the one person who could even come close to changing the world. He holds the balance of the universe in the palm of his hands. He is everything, and you hate that. You hate how much he means to you, and you hate how much he has on his shoulders. You hate the fact that you can’t even help him ease those worries. You might be strong, but you’re not nearly as strong as him. He knows it, everyone knows it. So, you ignore these feelings. You bury any semblance of hope, of potential ‘maybe’s’ and ‘what if’s’ and you keep your guard up. After all, he is your best friend and you’re his. That’s it.

But then, why does he keep looking at me like this?

“Mochi?” He mutters, eyes suddenly clear and gaze fixed at you. You hum. He waits a while without saying anything and then sits up cross-legged and holds his hand out. You ponder for a moment and eventually you hold his hand and he attempts to pull himself up with your help. You steady your feet and help him up and… wow, he’s ridiculously tall.

You clear your throat and let go of his hand, to which he makes a little noise of protest. You roll your eyes and put his arm around your shoulder, ushering him towards his dorm, “Alright Satoru, let’s put you to bed.”

He nods his head one too many times and starts to walk with you, slowly but surely. You held onto him as he held onto you, and you walked at his pace. He smelled nothing like he usually did. The pungent odor of sake wafted off him in waves and it almost made you want to throw up. He was dozing off, eyes almost shutting. Those cerulean blues were almost a shiny navy color now. You wonder what made him want to drink so much tonight. So you asked.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?” He looks down at you and musters a tiny smile. You hold his waist a little tighter.

You rephrase the sentence a few times in your head before asking.

“Why’d you drink so much tonight? Is everything okay?”

He stares at you for a while, then purses his lips and tips his head down, exhaling loudly. You know something happened, but you don’t know what it could be. Satoru was always an enigma. He was always an open book, and yet so mysterious at the same time. He always kept a smile on his face and always did the stupidest shit. Yet sometimes, he would change completely. His eyes would look sad and distant, he wouldn’t talk as much, he’d look out the window like some kind of tortured main character in an indie movie. Satoru was never easy to understand. He has his vices.

Finally, he looks at you with hazy eyes and a soft smile. Using the arm slung over your shoulder, he holds you in a headlock and kisses your forehead. You can’t see your face but you can feel just how red it must have become. You struggle to try to get out of the headlock but to no avail. Even when drunk, Satoru was still stronger than you and you hated that with a passion. He laughs and releases you, returning his arm back over your shoulder as he leans against you, basically using you as a crutch to walk.

“Satoru?! What the fuck was that all about?!” You sputter. Angry? Not really, it was nice. You’re more confused and freaked out, and why do you feel drunk when you’re the one who’s completely sober?

“No reason, you’re just cute s’all,” He giggles and ruffles your hair. You glare at his stupid face and he laughs again.

“Plus, I had nothing to do all day. Suguru was gone, you were busy and Shoko was-” He pauses. “Well, wherever she was.”

You sigh and pick up your pace which makes Satoru look like Bambi trying to walk on ice for the first time. He giggles all the way there.

—

Fucking finally…

You open the door to his dorm while dragging Satoru’s half limp body inside.

“Alrighty, now lie down,” You say as you gracefully lay him down (more like unceremoniously drop him) on his bed and take his shoes off. Satoru groans and proceeds to almost slip off the side of the bed. Thankfully, you noticed and pushed him further away and more towards the center of the bed. You leave his clothes alone and stand up straight, turning to leave.

“No, wait,” His hand grabs your wrist, without any force whatsoever and you think you’re going to straight up melt when you turn back around to see him looking up at you with ridiculously childlike eyes it’s not even fair.

“Stay, please.”

Your breath hitches and you know you have to leave. You have to wake up early in the morning and also you are not going to spend a night with Gojo Satoru while he’s drunk. It's not a matter of safety; you know he would die before ever hurting you. It was more a matter of heart.

“Satoru…” You try to wrench your hand free from his grasp.

He lowers his hand and wraps it around your fingers. His voice is quiet as he says, “A lil’ bit. ‘M sorry…”

You quirk an eyebrow in confusion, “For what?”

Your question is met with only snores. You shove him and call his name to which he opens his eyes with a “huh?”.

“What are you sorry for?”

He looks bewildered, “Oh um…”

You wait.

He continues sleepily, “For ruining your sleep.”

You chuckle as his hand slowly falls to the bed and snores fill the emptiness.

“Idiot.”

You pat his head and leave.

—-

Satoru wakes up very cold. And wet. Not in a good way.

“Woah- what the fu-”

“Rise and shine, princess,” Suguru announces with a shit-eating grin on his pretty face. He keeps the empty glass on Satoru’s side table and crosses his arms.

Satoru rubs his drenched face and stares incredulously at his so-called best friend, confusion etching his hungover face, “What the hell was that for?”

Suguru snickers, “It was for ruining my sleep last night.” He sits on Satoru’s bed and crosses his legs, resting his head on his hand, enjoying Satoru’s discomfort.

Satoru groans and puts his pillow on his face. His muffled voice says something Suguru makes out to be, “My head is killing me.”

“Not surprised, you were completely wasted.”

Satoru moves the pillow and glares at Suguru, to which he only receives a grin.

Suguru asks liltingly, “So? What happened last night?”

Satoru gets up and makes his way to his bathroom, the sound of water and teeth brushing resonating around the room. Suguru waits for a reply that doesn't come.

Impatient, he asks again, “Did you get your ass kicked?” Satoru gets out while putting on a new uniform jacket. He glares at Suguru until realization hits.

His eyes widen and he points a finger and exclaims, “You took me to her room?!”

Suguru processed that light bulb moment with wide eyes and burst into a hearty laughter to which Satoru only gaped mouth open and eyes unbelieving.

“You- you didn't remember how you got there but you remembered being there?” More laughter, louder this time.

Satoru scoffs and picks up his sunglasses, “I can't believe you…”

Suguru’s laughter dies down and he receives a slap on the back of his head for his incompetence. He laughs and rubs the site of injury.

As Satoru makes his way out of the dorm, Suguru follows close behind. He asks with genuine curiosity, “Did you confess?”

Nothing.

“Did she confess?”

Silence, except for the birds chirping cheerfully and the metronomic footfalls of the two boys.

Suguru sighs, “Did anything happen?”

Satoru puts on his sunglasses and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Nothing happened, as far as I remember.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow. Satoru rolls his eyes and says in a low voice, “Anyways, I'd remember if anything happened.”

Suguru smiles and ruffles Satoru’s already disheveled hair. He scoffs but laughs when Suguru laughs at his lovesick state of being.

“Forget it, Suguru. It’s never gonna happen,” Satoru mutters dejectedly, kicking a stone. Suguru stays silent.

“Like, she’s so… just- y’know?” His sparkling sapphire eyes glittering with admiration and so much love, Suguru can’t help but smile at his friend’s hopefulness. He continues rambling incoherently, hands waving around like it actually does anything to explain his feelings for her. In reality, nothing Satoru is saying makes any sense. Or more so, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. Suguru, on the other hand, understands Satoru. So no words are required.

—-

“He’s such an idiot.”

You sigh and twirl your pen, “Tell me about it…”

Shoko knows all and sees all. She knows all about Gojo’s stupid crush on you and she knows all about your crush on him. She doesn’t approve of it, because she firmly believes you deserve better and Gojo is an immature idiot. But after countless sleepless nights of talking about life and love, she saw just how much you liked him, despite your lackluster denials to her allegations. You were adamant on hiding your feelings, even with Shoko. You don’t know why exactly you lied to her about this. Probably because it seems too out of reach, or maybe because you know she’d disapprove. But you know Shoko loves you with all her heart. She would support any decision you make, no matter how much she hates it. Your happiness is paramount and she will never make you feel less than or stupid for anything you tell her. You just can’t tell her about your crush yet, because it’s just too embarrassing and you can’t deal with Shoko’s side-eye.

Shoko closes the book she was reading staring at, kicks up her feet on the desk and crosses her arms across her chest. You look at her, then look at her neglected textbook and sigh, shifting your attention to your own textbook.

“Y’know you’ll never even pass at the rate at which you’re going…”

She says with a giggle, “Relax, will you? It’s just class tests.”

You muster your best side eye, to which she just snorts. She kicks back her chair and stands up, holding out her hand for you to take. You raise your eyebrows, silently questioning whether she’s serious or not.

“C’mon let’s take a break, we’ve been studying for hours.”

You put down your pen and cross your arms, properly facing her now, “You mean, I’ve been studying for hours.”

She shrugs, “That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan.

She actually laughs and tugs your sleeve, “Come onnnn.”

You sigh and hang your head. Shoko takes that as a sign to collect your items and pack them into your backpack and you know you’ve lost. You always lose to her arguments. She’s too quick and too laid back to ever lose an argument. Even when something really serious goes down, Shoko will be the last person to freak out. You can’t even argue with her because she’ll just come up with some random logic that you don’t even know how to counteract. You watch as she packs your stuff and you smile. She looks at you and smiles back, albeit in a confused manner.

“What?”

You shrug still smiling, “Nothin’.”

Shoko mutters a small “okay” and grabs your shoulders, hunching down to your eye-level and staring into your eyes with a kind of scary expression. Shoko has never been serious in her entire life, except for a few times when you made bad decisions.

“Listen to me, and listen well. I love you. I will always be here for you. Even if you and Gojo date and that doesn’t work out, you don’t have to worry about us, ever,” Shoko’s grip on your shoulders was ironclad.

Your eyes widen and face heats up furiously, “W-what? Where is this coming from?!”

“Because I am your best friend, you absolute braindead idiot! I know you. I don’t know why you’re not just coming clean with me but I’m here always, so come to me whenever,” she ends her monologue with a sweeter than sweet smile and stands up to her full height while you were down there stunned, touched and offended all at once.

You get up, put your bag over your shoulder and stare at Shoko concerningly, while she just grins.

What the actual fuck was that?

“Hey, let’s go get some food, I’m starving.”

You glare at her as she loops her arms through yours, “You’re paying.”

Shoko laughs, “No way. Gojo’s paying.”

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[rosiestalez]

hi hi, ok ok so what abt gambit helping out f!reader when she’s drunk (they’re in an established relationship) ughhh i just want to see him being caring 😩

anyways thank u sm and hope u have a good day/night 😋

Remy Takes Care of you after drinking:

Gambit(Remy LeBeau) x fem!reader

SURE! Here’s something! It’s short, but I think it does the job. He’s a southern man so he’s a gentleman💜.

Warnings: Alcohol, Remy is a little older than the reader, but not explicitly mentioned (I just thought that it would make sense for this lil not so drabble). Drunk reader, picture is from Pinterest!

——————————————————————

You and Remy had engaged in a extremely long night of drinking, partying, poker, and whatever else he came up with. Compared to you, who is a light weight, Remy seemed fine, he’s holding his own. He’s not stumbling, slurring, or giggling uncontrollably like you happen to be. This ragin’ Cajun knew how to party; it’s like it was in his blood.

He guided you up the stairs of the shared home, his hand placed kindly on the small of your back while the other fiddles with the door knob. You can’t help but laugh, “baby I believe that is the wrong key”, your words slurring.

“Oh, s’rry mon amour”, he fiddles with his key chain again before finding the right key and opening the door with ease, “alri, les gon ahead and get you inside”, you stumble in, he’s holding you to stop you from falling over. He softly sits you down on the bench by the door sliding off your heals, and helping you take off your jacket. You sit there for a second just staring at the spinning walls while he makes you a glass of ice water. “Here ya go Cherie, don’t chug”, handing you the glass; you do what he says and take tiny sips while he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. He grabs the glass from your hand placing it onto the dresser and slowly lowers you onto the bed.

“Reeeeemmmyyy!!!!”, you whine grabbing at his hands to pull him down beside you, to bad he’s stronger than you resisting your motions. He snickers at you; he strips your dress off, “ahhh yes!”, you moan when he takes off your bra. He can’t help but smile at your antics.

“That feel better amour?”, you bite your lip nodding drunkenly, your eyes are so hazy and your ears feel like they are filled with water. He grabs some pajamas and dresses you before tucking you into the plush sheets of the bed. He kisses your forehead, runs down to the kitchen grabbing an ice pack to keep you cool so you don’t start feeling sick. He puts it on your neck and rolls you on your left. “Bonne nuit, mon amour, Je t’aime”, he kisses you again on the cheek knowing you’re already out cold he walks over to his side of the bed shutting off his bedside lamp. He watches you for a couple minutes before drifting off to sleep himself.

another a/n at the end, but this is for all the girlies who get sick a lot or for people who don’t know, but always try to keep cool. when i get nauseous i get hot and an ice pack keeps me from throwing up, laying on your stomach on the left side also helps. also humming when you feel like you’re gonna spill your guts.