#some - possibly very few - people would love to see that

[dreamsteddie]

Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.

They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.

The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.

The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.

Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.

She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.

She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.

------

Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.

Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.

Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.

Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.

The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.

In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.

Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.

------

Eddie's never been one to fall in love.

He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.

But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.

It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.

You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.

It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.

Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.

Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.

But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.

------

Steve's not stupid.

He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.

But Steve isn't looking closer.

His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.

Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.

The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.

Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.

And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.

Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.

Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.

But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.

The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Accidental Influencer

In which you're reminded why you fell in love with Lando in the first place.

Warnings: nothing Pairing: Lando Norris x Influencer!Reader Word count: 1.5k(ish)

based on this request Master List

yourinstaname posted

598,029 likes liked by landonorris, charlottetilbury, kikagomes, and others yourinstaname 'tis the season and all that (tagged: charlottetilbury, landonorris) user444 love when we get @/yourinstaname and lando content >>>user837 for real. charlottetilbury so excited to see you tonight!!! user009 body goals fr landonorris hey cutie, you got a date for tonight??? >>>yourinstaname eh, just my boyfriend but i'm willing to ditch him if you're offering 🤭 >>>user928 their interactions are always so sickeningly cute. >>>user829 always flirting, never serious. my favorite F1 couple fr.

You hadn't meant to become an influencer. Honest to God, you really hadn't. But then your Get Ready with Me, Cheerleader Edition had gone viral during your senior year of college and that had been that. Even though you'd been in the influencer world for a few years now it was still a place where you weren't totally comfortable. Sure, you had made some really good friends and had even found the love of your life in F1 driver Lando Norris but there was still something about the parties and late nights that had you feeling anxious sometimes.

Anxiety that spiked on nights like this, despite the fact that you had brought said boyfriend with you as your plus one, where you found yourself just wanting to run back to Lando's apartment and snuggle on the couch.

It had been a few weeks ago when the email invite had landed in your manager's inbox inviting you to Charlotte Tilbury's annual Christmas party in the heart of downtown London. It was a big deal that you'd been invited, an American that had moved across the ocean 2 years ago, and your manager had insisted you go and network. You had been reluctant even back then though. It had been a difficult and busy year, with Lando's season being hectic and you trying to be there for him as much as possible while fulfilling the brand deals and obligations you needed to do. You wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone in your flat hibernating with your boyfriend.

In the end, it had been Lando that had convinced you to go, offering to be your plus one. Which you were now regretting as you stood in the corner of the room near one of the giant Christmas trees watching the room buzz with activity.

Girls in tiny sparkly dresses stood in little groups, laughing and socializing. Girls that were dressed to the nines, makeup applied perfectly probably by professionals. Girls that kept tossing you glances every once in a while, as if they were wondering what in the world you were doing with someone like Lando. Fairy lights twinkled above, creating a soft ambient glow that you knew would create good lighting for some photos later in the evening.

Across the room, you spotted Lando standing at the bar getting you another French 75, your favorite drink of the moment. Lando stood behind another plus one date dressed in a charcoal grey suit waiting to order you a drink. As he waited, his head turned just slightly and you caught his gaze, the eye contact with you sending a cool shiver down his spine. You'd been dating for nearly two years now and the sight of you still set something squeezing in his chest you were just so pretty. But beyond your looks, you were authentic and felt everything so deeply and fully, something that he found was missing from a lot of people in your world. He knew you didn't like these kinds of nights but he was so proud you had put your anxieties aside in order to put yourself out there.

Once the drinks were ordered, Lando started back towards you, surprised to see you chatting with one of the other girls that had been invited. As he crossed the room, his eyes stay locked on you despite several women trying not so very subtly to get his attention. A few just simply called out his name, voices thick with flirtation and innuendo. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your boyfriend approaching and also noticed how many heads turned in his direction, sending something painful twisting in your stomach. You struggled to keep the conversation up with the girl across you, someone who you'd met a few times before and genuinely did like, just watching Lando approach you with 2 drinks in his hands.

"Baby, look they put glitter in the drinks tonight." Lando gushes when he finally reaches where you're standing, handing you your drink before slipping his now empty hand around your waist.

A sharp streak of desire skitters across your skin at being claimed by Lando as he pulls you in for a quick kiss. The small reassurance that he's here for you and only you settles something in your bones and you don't miss the glint of jealousy in your friends face as she watches the two of you come together.

"You guys are so cute together." Fiona coos across from you. "How did you meet again?"

Your eyes dart over to Lando, and he winks at you, encouraging you to answer the question. A small smile plays on your face as you recount the beginning of your story with him. "I had been invited to be at the Miami race last year by Ferrari."

Next to you, you can practically feel Lando roll his eyes. 2 years later, he's still bitter you started off as a Ferrari fan and not in papaya. You pinch at his arm softly, knowing that he was shaking his head at the thought.

"And I was in the paddock when Fernando Alonso went flying down the sidewalk and nearly took me out. My knight in shining armor pulled me out of the way just before I was nearly made road kill."

"Swept her right off her feet." Lando quips as he squeezes your hip, nostalgic smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he barely resisted the urge to kiss you right in front of everyone.

"He offered to take me to lunch in the McLaren hospitality suite after threatening to put Alonso into the wall as retaliation for nearly killing me."

"I was a goner the moment I saw her walking down that sidewalk and then Nando did me the biggest favor of my life." Leaning down, Lando nuzzles into your neck, not caring that your friend is right there, watching you both with an amused smile on her face.

"I somehow found myself in the McLaren garage a few weeks later in Montreal, which someone still refuses to admit he's responsible for two years later." You bump your hip against your boyfriends, grinning over at him like a lovesick puppy.

Lando just shrugs, "I had absolutely nothing to do with that." He says, faux innocence lacing his voice.

Which, of course, was been a total lie. Seeing you draped in Ferrari scarlet had jealousy coursing through his veins the entire time he had been with you that first day in Miami. Lando had fallen hard and fast for you, something that had taken him completely by surprise. The way you laughed so quickly and easily, the way you put your entire soul into anything you did, the way you loved so loud and so boldly had him craving time with you, no matter how short it was.

He had gone straight to the PR department the next time he had been at the MTC, requesting special VIP passes be sent to you to the next race you were available for. Gina, who was responsible for coordinating guest passes and celebrity invites, had been shocked at his insistence at inviting someone who didn't do F1 related content or anything but had, of course, complied with the driver's request and began working on getting you to another race.

When that invite had landed in your managers inbox, you had agreed nearly instantaneously, remembering how good it felt to have Lando's full attention on you even as briefly as it had been in Miami.

"God, you guys are so cute, it's gross." Fiona gushes as you two get lost in each other's gaze as if she's not even standing right in front of you.

Lando reaches in his pocket for his phone before handing it over to Fiona. "Would you mind taking some pictures of us in front of the tree?"

You glance over at him, somewhat surprised at his request. It wasn't that Lando didn't like taking pictures with you, most of the time he indulged your requests because he did love getting those pictures together with you and he knew it was part of your job, but you knew that he preferred his privacy when it came to his personal life. "You sure?"

Lando nods, no hint of insincerity on his face. Fiona takes Lando's phone without hesitation and directs the pair of you on the best angle to take advantage of the twinkling fairy lights above and on the tree behind you.

As you listen to your friends direction, enjoying the way Lando's hands sit heavily on your hips when he pulls you closer, you're filled with gratitude and appreciation for your boyfriend, glad he had insisted you come tonight despite your initial reservations.

yourinstaname posted

299,948 likes liked by therealfiona, landonorris, charlottetilbury, and others yourinstaname It's the most wonderful time of the year. thank you to @/charlottetilbury for inviting us out for such a lovely evening. (photo cred to @/therealfiona.) (tagged: landonorris, charlottetilbury) therealfiona I should look into a career as a photographer. lovely to see you babes, can't wait to see you for New Years!! >>>yourinstaname profesh photog material for sure! xox landonorris whoever had the idea to take these pictures deserves an extra kiss tonight >>>yourinstaname you're literally sat two feet away from me rn, come get your reward. >>>user938 i'm obsessed with boyfriend lando >>>yourinstaname me too! 😉

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[vorfreudevortex]

just for you!

how the jjk boys handle christmas gift wrapping (headcanons, crack, fluff)

✧.* gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, yuji, megumi, noritoshi, ino, inumaki, yuta

masterlist

satoru would think he's just sooo amazing at wrapping gifts, but in reality, they're just a complete mess. he buys super expensive paper, like the really thick ones with gold foil that don't rip. he does make sure to get whatever ribbon and bows match his paper, but they still fail to hide the fact that there is tape everywhere, mostly in places they don't even need to be.

suguru secretly loves wrapping gifts, and is pretty damn good at it. he's very meticulous and matches his paper with his bows and ribbons. he doesn't buy the most expensive paper, nor the cheapest, but somewhere in between. he does try to find clear tape to use instead of the white-ish kind as well.

kento is obviously the king of gift wrapping. he always buys the nice, thick wrapping paper with the lines on the inside so he can make sure his cuts are as straight as possible. he even makes sure to fold the edges of the paper over so the ends are neat. only uses double sided tape, because he wouldn't be caught dead with visible tape on the outside of the gift. his gifts could be taken straight out of a christmas store display case and you wouldn't know any better.

toji doesn't even try fucking around with wrapping paper anymore. he stuffs whatever his gift is into a gift bag and staples it closed. he's has been known to wrap gifts using newspaper or duct tape in the past. when he's the one unwrapping gifts, however, he is surprisingly careful. he doesn't tear the present open, but will pry open one side and slide the gift out to keep the paper intact.

choso tries really, really hard. he definitely watched a few youtube tutorials as well, but couldn't quite catch on. he buys his wrapping paper at any regular store, and only buys bows to put on the most expensive gifts he bought. the paper is gonna be crumpled for sure, you're going to be able to see every point where he messed up and refolded or retaped. the bows are always going to be slightly sideways, but it's endearing nevertheless.

sukuna will actually wrap presents even though he thinks it's stupid. there is tape everywhere and the paper isn't even properly folded, just pushed down wherever he needs it to be. he's grumbling and complaining the entire time. also, he makes uraume get him blood red wrapping paper. don't expect any bows.

yuji is actually pretty decent. he always gets fun and silly wrapping paper and only has to refold a couple of times. there's usually only a few imperfections, like an awkward extra fold somewhere or a small patched area where he mis-measured the size of his gift. he will draw a really bad doodle of whoever the gift is for directly on the paper with sharpie.

megumi gets straight to business with gift wrapping. he buys plain brown paper, but makes sure it's thick enough not to tear. there's minimal tape and mistakes, and the folding is always neat. yuji will ask why he didn't want to buy "jollier "wrapping paper, and megumi will respond with something like, "it's just the gift that matters."

noritoshi treats it like a formal ritual of some sort. the paper is always only one solid color without any fun patterns. his gifts are almost wrapped too perfectly, with double-sided tape hiding beneath the tightest folds. he might buy a ribbon or two to decorate the gifts he bought for the very few people he genuinely cares about. he knows wrapping paper produces a lot of waste but secretly enjoys these careless christmas festivities.

takuma is awful. it takes him hours just to finish wrapping a handful of gifts, just for them to look like he did them in 5 minutes. he made sure to buy thicker wrapping paper this year after tearing all the paper from last year to shreds in his attempts, but it doesn't help at all. there's somehow too little tape and too much tape, all in places they shouldn't be, and every bows is threatening to fall off. his cute, giddy smile when he hands out his presents make up for his lack in skills.

toge loves gift wrapping and does a pretty decent job every time. he makes sure to order goofy paper, usually something with sushi rolls or onigiri on it, even if he has to pay more and wait longer for them to be shipped. only messes up a few times and tries to use clear tape. he tags each person's gift with a different rice ball ingredient to confuse everyone, just because it's funny.

yuta is good at wrapping but overthinks everything. will buy a different pattern of wrapping paper for each person, and spends days on end thinking and rethinking about which one fits them best and if they will like it. he buys clear tape and loops it over to stick under the folds to make them neat, because he was so busy choosing paper that he forgot to buy double sided tape. will retie bows over and over until it's centered and symmetrical. he'll definitely get flustered and a little embarrassed when someone compliments his neat wrapping.

merry christmas and happy holidays!

© vorfreudevortex // all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 1]

The first time Tim sees him, he is seven, standing by his Father's side, and bored out of his mind.

The 'party' is numbingly dull, full of adults, sparkling flutes of champagne, tiny sandwiches, and fake twinkling laughter. Tim doesn't understand how his parents find any of it interesting; in his opinion, nothing about just talking to people for hours and hours straight sounds as exciting as they make it look.

He wishes he could just go home already. Not that his time in the Drake estate gets any more exciting than bothering house elves or spending his day in the library, but it's still better than this.

Or, Tim thought so until he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on the floor.

He turns around, and there are yelps and screams of surprise and angry swearing. It takes Tim a few seconds to realize what's going on - a few people are holding their hands to their faces, like trying to hide them, and he gets a glimpse of an elephant trunk peeking through the palms of one old lady.

And then, there's a sound of loud, delighted laughter ringing through the room, and the sound of footsteps, and-

"DANIEL!" Tim hears Mr. Masters, the host of the event, yell at the top of his lungs.

A moment later, Tim sees a boy zooming past him, elbowing the adults on his way to push through the crowd and still cackling like a madman. Tim doesn't get a good look at him, what with the boy running so fast he almost trips, but he does notice the messy black hair and the large, knitted blue sweater that looks too big on the boy's body.

"Daniel Jackson Fenton, come back this instant!" Mr. Masters calls again, his thunderous steps louder than all the yelling around them.

The boy doesn't even deign him with a look over his shoulder. Instead, he darts towards the nearest window, opens it with what seems to be practiced ease, and climbs on the windowsill. Only then does he look back to the chaos he created in the room full of respectable guests, and grins.

Tim blinks. He's never seen anyone smile like this, all teeth and mischief, and cheeky excitement.

"What, too old to catch me, Vlad?" He sticks his tongue at Mr. Masters, and just for a moment, Tim is scared the man is going to lunge at him. Yet, right as Mr. Masters gets close enough, the boy pushes off and jumps out the window, his laughter echoing through the night.

Mr. Masters looks like he is about to follow - and Tim is, for once, curious to see if he would - but stops himself short, only leaning out the window.

"Don't bother coming back, you little badger, you are grounded!" The man yells. The only response he gets is another fit of distant cackling from the gardens.

"That is sure a way to entertain the crowd," Father says quietly, and the tall, dark-skinned woman he's been talking to before the whole mess happened snorts a short laugh.

Tim looks back to the few people who are still sporting elephant trunks for their noses.

It's the first time he thinks a party full of adults in stuffy robes can be more fun than he expected.

—☆—☆—☆—

Some visuals for v i b e s

The room where the scene took place:

Tim's drawing after he was back home from the party (house elves helped):

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

I have the vaguest possible idea of where I'm going, but this is definitely going to be a multichapter thing.

A few notes I've got pinned down so far:

Drakes are a mostly pureblood family, not filthy rich and straight up focused on the whole purity thing, but keeping their reputation clean and nice, and their income stable. Both Jack and Janet have attended Hogwarts, and they were both Ravenclaws while they were at it. Janet might have some relation to Blacks, but it's so distant that she doesn't bother keeping it in mind.

Vladimir Masters is, technically, a pureblood wizard, but his family has been in England for only two or so generations. His grandma (who is still very much alive) came from Russia after falling madly in love with Vlad's grandpa (who is now deceased and, as the rumor goes, his wife had a hand in it). He also attended Hogwarts and has been a Ravenclaw in the same year as Madeline Fenton nee Walker. Hence, Daniel Fenton is his godson and, unofficially, as of right now, heir to Masters family.

[part 2 ->]

[wren-kitchens]

i guess i’m human no more

4732 words

joel is extremely used to the vast amount of feathers he finds in their bed (and his mouth) every morning—going so far as to know which yellow feather is from jimmy's wings or grian's (jimmy's have more brown hues in). joel essentially knows their wings off by heart, and has been teased endlessly after that one time he accidentally revealed this fact to grian.  despite all this, there's- there is a bit of a situation. it's- there's a new colour feather.

good LORD this has taken me a while to finish. judas had the incredible idea of watchers/listeners being contagious to people they're emotionally close to in MAY and here I am in december only just finishing the oneshot for it

I did in fact go wild with this one. there are many headcanons and so much bad boys because I love them

CW: body horror, gore

there are too many feathers in their bed.

this is extremely ordinary—in fact, joel would be concerned if there were a normal amount of feathers in their bed, because it would mean that jimmy and grian had just been laying completely still. after sleeping in the same bed as them for a week or so, joel has learnt that this seems to be physically impossible for either of them to do. every single morning, joel has woken up with jimmy and grian sprawled in increasingly unlikely positions on top of him and each other (which is kind of sweet), and at least three feathers in his mouth (which is kind of gross).

that's not even to mention how many feathers they shed when they stretch their wings out. honestly, joel wonders if he should just attach a bin bag to their wings and see just how many feathers they can amass in a single day; it'd be an interesting experiment. although, the most they shed is when they're preening, which- okay, he can no longer get annoyed with them when they leave the piles of fluff on the floor—not since they let him help. now he knows how loopy they get, joel understands why they'd forget to tidy up. 

(joel wouldn’t admit this at gunpoint, but he's never felt so.. okay- it's- it will sound silly, but so trusted, than when jimmy suggested joel help, and grian agreed. there are very few things so intimate than preening, as joel has learnt, and the idea that they would ask him for help with something that personal makes his head spin.)

all of this to say, joel is extremely used to the vast amount of feathers he finds in their bed (and his mouth) every morning—going so far as to know which yellow feather is from jimmy's wings or grian's (jimmy's have more brown hues in). joel essentially knows their wings off by heart, and has been teased endlessly after that one time he accidentally revealed this fact to grian. 

despite all this, there's- there is a bit of a situation. it's- there's a new colour feather.

it doesn’t sound that weird, but- no one else on the server has wings with the pattern on the feathers joel has started finding, so there's no way it just rubbed off someone else and fell off here. it's a kind of orangey-beige, with dark brown marking; something joel knows is not a pattern on anyone else's wings on this server. it could be a weird glitch, if grian or jimmy have different markings on another server, and at some point their wings lagged or something. yeah, that makes sense.

so much sense, in fact, that joel didn't bother telling grian or jimmy about it—which apparently was about to bite him in the ass. 

-

if joel has to spend one more second trying to be diplomatic with scott, whilst being shot looks that very plainly tell him to chill out, he's going to stab someone. especially as martyn and grian are clearly arguing about something or other in the most roundabout way possible, and jimmy keeps backing grian up. joel has no idea what either of them are actually arguing about, and apparently neither does scott, which is only some consolation. also- not necessarily related to this situation, but joel must have slept funny or something, because his back has been aching all day, which is not adding very much to this experience.

"look- I don’t want you to be my ally any more than you want to be mine," joel says, thoroughly exasperated. "but you and your allies seem to be fundamentally immortal in these games."

scott raises an amused eyebrow, clearly entertained by joel's attempts at formality. dickhead. "so, you’re trying to profit off my skill?"

joel scoffs, stretching his neck in the hopes of lessening some of the pain in his back. "you say that like it's a bad thing. you know, I-"

"no- you’re being ridiculous!" martyn interrupts, half shouting and apparently unaware of the commotion he’s causing. "it's downright irresponsible-"

"and what do you think you’re doing?" grian's wings have puffed up in anger. "you realise that out of everyone you could turn-"

"which is exactly why i’m not going to." martyn insists. joel has no idea what either of them are talking about, but it's better than arguing with scott.

jimmy barks a laugh. "there are more than one reasons you’re wrong there-"

"you can’t talk!" martyn jabs a finger at him. "how would you know-"

"how would I know?" jimmy says, voice slipping from indignation to anger. "how would- do you remember, martyn, who turned me?"

joel's back gives a sharp stab of pain, and he winces at it. maybe he pulled a muscle or something when he was swimming up the side of the mansion with building materials. 

scott looks at him. "what are you doing?"

"you- what?" joel glares back instinctively, which scott apparently finds funny. "i’m not doing anything?"

"if you say so." scott turns back to the argument.

joel scoffs, folding his arms- and instantly regrets it as a spasm shoots up his back. void- what did he do to himself? it seems like it's getting worse as the day goes on, which does not happen with muscle strains- as far as he remembers, anyway. scott glances at him again, and joel pretends he hasn't noticed.

" -hen you should know better." martyn's voice is cold, but there's something like regret lacing his tone. joel feels like he’s missed at least five chapters- what are they on about? "you know the risks-"

"you know the risks firsthand, martyn." grian steps forward. "and do you truly think They will take kindly-" 

"of course They won't, but it's not going to happen." martyn hisses.

whatever joel has managed to do to himself seems to be worsening by the second- demonstrated by the pounding behind his eyes that seems to have materialised out of nowhere. cool- great, this is exactly what he needs right now: more pain. he closes his eyes for a moment, in the hope that the lack of light might alleviate the throbbing pain. it does not help at all—in fact, it just makes him feel a little unstable, since he can no longer see where he’s stood. 

he's- wait, what- did joel open his eyes and not notice? that- no, that's definitely- what the fuck? is the game glitching, or is-

"joel?" scott's voice is uncomfortably close to his ear, and joel's eyes snap open (how the fuck could he still see). "are- what-" (why does scott look scared.)

"you- that's not normal." joel's voice sounds so far away from his body. does he have double vision?

pearl looks over at bigb from where she's been laying upside-down against the wall. she says something that looks like, "I have an idea." but no sound comes out.

maybe he just needs to lie down- it's probably fine. it's just- he has some kind of fever- he just needs to have a nap.

grian is too busy trying to stop both himself and jimmy from attacking martyn to notice that anything is wrong.

someone grabs his arm-

joel lists sideways, and scott manages to catch him on instinct before he completely topples over. his eyes- they've definitely not always been purple.

grian looks over, panic rising in his chest like bile as he realises the worst has happened- 

"can- is there-" joel's breath is coming far too quickly- is he even breathing anymore? "I don't-"

someone is grabbing his shoulders, and there are too many faces to even- decipher who it is. he might be on the floor- there's something that could be grass under his hands, and someone is talking- who is talking? joel doesn’t want- he doesn’t like any of this. can he go home?

his mind swims, bursts of colour and movement flashing before him, gone before he even has time to understand what they are. head pounding, faces blur his vision- some he recognises, some he can't even begin to process if they are actually faces by the time they've vanished. people are shouting what might be his name and everything is- there's too much- there's way too much-

amidst the chaos, there's a gentle pressure against his forehead, and all of a sudden-

"I- grian?" joel is- he’s looking at grian. he’s only looking at grian. 

grian's eyes are fading from purple back to black, and he looks so worried, joel is almost embarrassed. "i’m- void, i’m so sorry."

joel's chest is tight with fear, and now he isn't dealing with- whatever just happened, he realises that his back has begun to hurt a lot more than it already was. "what- what the fuck was that."

"it- that was my fault." grian drops his hands from joel's shoulders, and joel immediately misses the warmth, but he’s too focused on how guilty grian looks right now. "i’m- I was reckless- I knew what might happen, but I-"

"what happened?" joel says, almost exasperated. his back is killing him, and he doesn't know what's going on, and he just wants to go back to the mansion and curl up in their bed. "I don't- I don't care whose fault it is, I just- what was that?"

grian looks like he might cry, and that might just be the worst part of all of this. "you- so. you know what I am, right?"

"I- yeah?" joel remembers suddenly that scott and martyn are still here. "I- I know."

"well, that- if I get.. too close to someone, they-" grian's breath catches in his throat, and he coughs. joel wants to hug him, but- even the thought of lifting his arms that high makes his stomach turn. why does everything hurt so much? "it. it happens to them, too."

joel stares for a second, brain sluggish against the pain and overwhelm as he tries to understand what grian actually means. it takes a moment, but it begins to dawn on him. "you're saying- no, that wasn't-" he looks over at jimmy, half expecting to find him grinning. he is more solemn than joel has ever seen him. "that can't be- possible, I don't-"

"what did you see?" jimmy asks, and this is ludicrous, but-

"pearl and bigb." joel's head feels foggy, his spine burning at his flesh. "I- me, but, from scott's point of view. and my eyes were- wrong, I don't-" he takes a breath. "why did you not tell me?"

"selfishness, mostly." grian says softly. "there's no excuse."

"what- I just don't-" joel's breath is starting to feel laboured again as he tries to concentrate on his words and not how it feels as if his back is being sliced open. "why does it hurt?" his voice slips into something so vulnerable, joel is almost thankful that he’s too distracted to care that scott is right behind him. 

for the first time, confusion flits across grian's expression, coupled with a concerning amount of panic. "I- hurt? what hurts?" 

before joel can remember how to string the words together, scott is saying, "I- joel, take your jacket off."

grian looks as confused as joel feels, but scott sounds weirdly serious and joel is in too much pain to argue. "it- I can’t. it hurts to move."

"what's going on?" jimmy says, closer than he was a second ago.

"I would have thought you'd know." scott is saying, and joel is about to accept his fate and hit him when he finishes- "he’s growing wings."

there's a moment in which all joel can think is that he probably should have mentioned those feathers he kept finding in their bed, until there's a resounding squawk of- "what?"

"makes sense." joel grits out, if only because the juxtaposition is funny. if joel can’t commit to the bit in any situation, who even is he? "don't- don't suppose you have potions?"

"martyn, can you grab a golden apple?" scott says, stepping in front of joel—who is not happy that his best bet right now is scott smajor. he’s not so stubborn as to not accept his help though. "grian, help him take the jacket off. cut it off if needs-"

"you are- you are not ruining my jacket." joel manages to look up in order to glare at scott, but he falters as he takes in how concerned scott's expression is. scott notices him looking, and his face turns blank.

"fine- take the jacket off then, or it will get ruined." scott scoffs, turning away to watch martyn grab the apple.

"can you- are you gonna explain what is going on?" grian says, somewhat more desperate than joel thinks he meant to sound. "how is- why is this-"

a spasm of pain wracks joel's body, and he suppresses a scream as he falls forward on his arms, shaking a little. his breathing is heavy again- he just wants it to be over. 

"if I die," joel manages, head swimming. "will- can I just-" he can’t muster up the energy to finish the sentence, but the desperation in it seems to be conveyed. can it just be over?

"I don’t know." scott says, and despite it all, the helplessness in his voice brings joel some sense of vindication. so he doesn’t know everything.

"okay, i’m- i’m gonna take your jacket off." grian says, more panicked than joel knows he wants to sound. "can you- is that possible?"

joel lets grian move around him, barely lifting each arm as grian guides the sleeve of the jacket off his shoulders. as soon as the first sleeve comes off, joel finds himself relaxing ever so slightly at the lack of pressure against his spine. he should probably make that vest bigger.

"why- why is this-" joel can barely manage half of that sentence before the pain becomes too much, but scott seems to understand what he was trying to ask.

"i don't- i’m not sure." scott says, more panicked than joel thinks he’s heard him in a long while. "I just- this kind of thing happened to me in double life, but I still don't understand-"

"oh void." grian says suddenly, and joel has to resist the impulse to turn his head. "I thought i’d- it shouldn't be possible anymore-"

"what shouldn't be possible?" jimmy says, with a sense of urgency joel has never heard from him before.

grian hesitates for a moment, and joel recognises it—grian always does this when he's about to say something either bizarre or embarrassing. or both, more often than not. "the game- it thinks we're soulbound." 

there's a pause as everyone seems to process this ridiculous information, before jimmy says, "it- but why does it hurt? tango grew wings in double life, and he didn't even notice until his shirt got torn."

"there's- it's a.. thing." grian audibly winces as he speaks, as if he knows exactly how terrible whatever he’s going to say will sound and is preemptively apologetic. of course. "the closer soulmates are—like, emotionally close, I mean—the less painful it is- and vice versa. but- the game thinks we're soulmates, which. I assume is- is 'cause we're close. so since we're not actually soulbound-"

"it thinks that must be distance." scott realises. joel is gonna murder someone once he regains the use of his body.

joel groans, dropping his head to the ground in exhausted exasperation. "why's everything so.. weirdwith you?" he manages. 

"i’m so sorry." grian says, voice quiet enough that joel thinks only he was meant to hear it. 

joel is about to tell him not to worry about it when a kind of pain he’s never felt before in his life shoots through his back- and the ripping of flesh is all he can hear, a scream forcing its way from his mouth- primeval and torturous. he’s never felt pain before- he’s never felt death before- there can be nothing worse than this.

it feels like years until joel realises that he is beginning to see shapes again, that there are other noises in the world other than his own whimpers of agony, that the terrible tearing is not all he can feel anymore. there's something that feels like a viscous kind of liquid against his skin, and a sickly sweet smell that he can’t quite name. healing potion, joel recognises as the pain begins to lessen. 

after a long moment, joel finds himself able to push himself into a sitting position- and almost falls backwards as newfound weight pulls him down again. jimmy is in front of him all of a sudden, catching his shoulders and wiping something wet off his face. it could be tears, or blood, or potion—joel has no idea. 

"you- you with us?" jimmy asks, a scared-looking smile on his face, as if trying to reassure joel of something he can't bring himself to trust. "you’re not- you’re feeling better?"

joel nods, suddenly exhausted and more thankful than he realised for the warmth of jimmy's hands against his arms. "you- you guys are such nerds."

jimmy grins, looking ridiculously relieved at being insulted, and there's a soft laugh from next to him that sounds like grian. "yeah?" jimmy says. "how's that?"

"not- not sure if I misheard, but." joel takes a breath, and jimmy squeezes his arm gently. "'think you care about me so much that the game thinks we're soulmates. and you- you turned me into a watcher, or something." joel manages a grin. 

"yeah. you heard right." jimmy says, and there's a rush of affection in joel's chest. "I- do you want to lie down or something, 'cause you look like you’re about to pass out."

joel answers by shuffling slowly forwards and falling onto jimmy—far too tired and in far too much pain to let the embarrassment stop him. jimmy gives a slight gasp of worry, before wrapping his arms around joel's waist, lower than joel expected him to. it takes a second for him to remember that- he has wings now, which are probably in the way of normal hugs. jimmy presses a kiss into joel's hair, and he makes a soft sound of content.

"sorry I took so long." martyn's voice comes from somewhere behind him, more nervous than joel thinks he’s heard him in a while. man, he should grow wings more often if it makes everyone this scared. how's that for a trap? "we didn’t- I wasn't sure you’d be able to eat the apple-"

martyn's explanation is reduced to white noise in joel's ears, and- void, he’s tired. jimmy's heartbeat is audible from where joel is leant against him, and he can almost feel the way his own heart stutters to catch up; he wonders if grian's heart is at the same pace, with whatever this bizarre game has done to deign them unofficial soulmates. he wishes he had enough energy to pull grian into their hug and see for himself if their hearts all beat in unison now.

something occurs to him all of a sudden, and joel closes his eyes. he isn’t sure- and now probably is the worst time to try this kind of thing out, when he has no idea how any of it works, but maybe he can.. do something with this whole watcher thing. 

joel feels as if he’s trying to use a muscle that doesn’t exist—like some kind of phantom limb—but after a moment, grian's face comes into view. it's easier than he thought it'd be. almost like controlling a timelapse drone, but with your mind, and also the video is directly transmitted into your brain. it's pretty cool.

there's a stab of regret as joel stops congratulating himself on such a good job, and actually takes in the amount of guilt etched into every line of grian's face. his stomach drops as he turns (kind of? he sorta- uh. hard to explain, actually) and sees that jimmy is wearing a painfully similar expression. almost scared to see, joel looks at martyn and scott, and is at least vaguely reassured to see that they just look worried. frankly, if joel ever saw scott looking guilty because of joel, he'd have to end his own series. 

"it- it's not your fault y'know." joel manages—more of a mumble than anything else, but grian and jimmy both seem to know he’s talking to them. "'s kinda cool. I should probably thank you."

grian is looking at him- or, maybe his.. watcher drone? either way, he seems to know he’s being looked at. "I am sorry, either way." he says, but he doesn’t look as devastated as he did a moment ago. "I didn’t- I should have told you what could happen."

joel snorts. "if you thought I was about to turn down cool powers and wings, you don’t know me well enough." he finds that it's getting somehow easier to speak, despite being exhausted, and he remembers the healing potion still travelling through his veins. he never thought he'd be this thankful for martyn- probably ever.

grian smiles, and it feels as if a knot in joel's chest has dissipated. "you’re definitely getting the hang of it."

jimmy hums in agreement. "it's not called a drone though." he says, and it very suddenly occurs to joel what a listener must be able to do. "I- did you not already know?"

"how was I meant to?" joel huffs, watching with slight embarrassment as jimmy smiles at it. "you’re a secretive lot."

"so- and I hate to disrupt this," scott suddenly says, and joel suppresses an instinctive groan. "but do you need any more help?"

there's a mischievous kind of look that flashes across grian's face, if only for a second, and joel can't help but feel reassured by the fact that he's getting back to normal. "well- we could use a couple allies?"

scott sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can’t really turn you down now, can I?" he says, and there's a weird kind of tone that makes joel wonder if he’s actually as annoyed as he’s putting on. 

"I just grew wings." joel mumbles, unintentionally quiet but apparently effectively sympathetic, as even martyn seems to be swayed. look at him go. "'can’t just.. throw us to the wolves now."

scott rubs his face with a hand, clearly throughly exasperated at how easily he has been won over. "yeah- okay, fine. we can be allies." 

"thanks." jimmy grins a little, and joel watches as scott softens ever so slightly at it. 

joel opens his eyes, and he’s once again staring into the coral reef, facing away from everyone else. jimmy's hand is in his hair, and his back is only aching now. he’s a little worried to move, in case it all starts feeling abysmal again, but he can hardly spend the rest of his 24 hours on the mean gills' bridge.

"I could carry you." jimmy suggests, and joel makes a noise of concern—thinking about how precarious they've made their base. "that's- yeah, that's a good point." 

"could you try to stand?" grian says tentatively. his voice sounds closer than it was a moment ago, and there's a hand on joel's shoulder that has to be grian's. "the pain shouldn't get too much worse, since the potion has actually fixed a lot of the wounds."

joel wonders if grian can read minds too, or if he just knows what joel would be thinking. he doesn’t think he can read minds, which suggests that- maybe grian just knows him that well. it's a nice thought. 

he pushes himself slightly more upward, regretful as he leaves the warmth of jimmy's embrace- and immediately begins to fall backwards again, once again completely forgetting how unbalanced he is now. both jimmy and grian make noises of panic before joel catches himself before he topples all the way over, and he can’t help grinning despite the twinge of pain the sudden movement shoots through his back- and wings, which is a bizarre feeling. 

"I might need some help not falling over." joel grins, as grian stands up and lends him a hand. "but it doesn’t hurt that much anymore."

"that's good." grian says, a wave of relief overtaking his expression. joel squeezes his hand, and grian smiles. 

jimmy is at his side before joel realises. "maybe we avoid bread bridge for a bit." he says, and joel snorts.

the journey back to the mansion is not nearly as perilous as joel had worried it'd be, considering that it's day and anyone they bumped into seemed to notice the dried blood accompanying the very large wings on joel's back and presumably decided that trying to kill them now would just be rude. the downright murderous looks from both jimmy and grian when someone came a little too close with a weapon, or made just a bit too serious of a threat probably also helped.

instead of attempt to swim with the unfamiliar weight of his newgrown wings, joel elects to pillar up instead. jimmy and grian hover next to him, climbing onto trees and swimming up the water in some attempt to provide a safety net if he falls. admittedly, it's quite sweet- not that he's about to tell them that. he instead settles on insisting that he knows how to pillar up, and praying to every deity that might exist for him not to fall off immediately.

luckily, no one falls or dies or whatever, and they all make it to the top of the mansion in one piece. joel is prepared to pass out in their bed as soon as he reaches it, but he doesn’t really want his bad boys to worry even more at his exhaustion.

as if reading his mind- oh. he forgot- yeah, he can actually do that, can't he? it- anyway, jimmy plops himself down, and gestures for grian and joel to join him—which joel happily obliges. grian almost hesitates, but joel drags him along, and grian doesn't even bother protesting. 

joel lays next to jimmy, and grian—who followed quickly after him—pulls him into a hug. huffing softly, joel hugs back. "it's okay." he mumbles into grian's shoulder. "I promise- i'd say something if it weren't."

"I know." grian half-whispers, clearly fighting tears. "i’m- I just can’t get over- I did this to you."

joel swallows more emotion than he expected. "yeah. but- it's- it's 'cause you care. it's not- I can’t hate that." grian makes a little noise that could be a suppressed sob. 

"thank you." joel can barely make it out, but he can’t help but blink back tears at the honesty in it- from grian, of all people, that means a lot.

his wings are still sore, and moving them sends an ache down his back, but joel finds himself wanting to wrap them around grian. "I just- I also- y’know. care." joel says, kind of hoping it's too muffled for either grian or jimmy to hear. "it's- I like having.. I don’t know, a piece of you guys with me." 

grian sniffles, holding joel tighter. "I- dude, you’re- you’re gonna make me cry."

"join the club." joel huffs a laugh, eyes burning. he buries his face in grian's jumper in the hopes that it'll wipe away any tears that come. 

there's a very quiet clearing of someone's throat next to them—unmistakably jimmy. joel doesn’t even need to look up to know he’s also trying not to start crying, and he blindly reaches out a hand until he finds jimmy's shirt and pulls him towards them both. grian catches on, shifting a little to make room for their bad boy. 

"I- I didn’t wanna ruin the moment." jimmy is saying as both grian and joel drag him into the hug. 

joel can't help smiling as he feels jimmy wrap his arms around him, which- it's embarrassing, but weirdly, he doesn’t even care. "as if either of you could ruin anything." he scoffs, almost to himself. 

there's a kiss pressed into his hair, and grian laughs as joel rolls his eyes (if only to disguise how much he appreciates it). "bad boys for life, right?"

jimmy mhms along as joel grins, "bad boys for life."

[causeimcrayzeebee]

Wolfgang Akire through the lens of the law: an analysis

i would like to give a disclaimer that while im very interested in the law, im not a lawyer or in law school. my knowledge comes from the few law classes i have taken, participation in a couple mock trials, and some personal research, so please take this with a grain of salt! if im missing something or saying something inaccurate, please let me know! i am always open to learning more!! not to mention this is my understanding of law in the United States, so this may differ by country.

in the end, this isn’t meant to be too serious, just using the knowledge i do have and applying it to p:eg!!!

okay now spoilers for the prologue and all of chapter 1!

well ig before we get into it let me say rest in peace a king... I will miss you, you hypocritical bastard........

alright, so firstly, let’s consider Wolfgang’s character profile.

two things stand out to me here. the first is how he has “successfully defended over 200 of his clients without dropping a single case.” we can infer that Wolfgang is a criminal defense attorney. it’s possible he could be a lawyer in the civil law sector instead, but considering his strong feelings about murder and crime, and the fact that this is Danganronpa, it leads me to believe he is a criminal attorney for the sake of relevance (I don't think any of us would care if he were a corporate attorney after all).

now, that sentence you just read is particularly interesting in the case of Wolfgang Akire. From the prologue's mock trial, we can see that Wolfgang feels very passionately about murder, condemning the murderer even without insight as to why they committed the crime, instead big on retribution and justice (which the definition of could definitely be debated). Yet, as a defense lawyer, Wolfgang would have been defending people from criminal accusations, from anything to armed robbery, arson, or murder. we’re not particularly sure on his view of other crime, but we can assume he also has a similarly negative view of it that he has of murder. out of 200 people (within such a short time span of finishing law school too), what are the odds that out of all 200, not one of them was actually guilty? of course, lawyers have the ability to drop or not take on cases, but as his profile says, he hasn’t dropped a single case! it’s quite possible he had complete faith that every client was innocent, but with the evidence and files he’d have to go through, he had to have seen something that was damning and prepared accordingly to address in the most sympathetic way possible to avoid prosecution winning their case. and that's the thing with Wolfgang; his job requires building sympathy for the accused, and it requires sowing seeds of doubt in prosecution's case. there had to have been someone that he was defending from an accurate charge(s). so whether he knew it or not, he has very likely defended people guilty of crime; and yet, he still feels very adamantly against them.

Here's where I fall short on my analysis; I honestly do not know what to make of this conclusion. his behavior and his ideals are almost contradictory in a sense. is this insight to wolfgang's clear hypocrisy? but what does that really say about him? I'd love to know what any of y'all think in regards to this :0

Now, the second thing that stands out to me is that he wants to make sure that everyone is fairly represented and make sure logic and evidence drive the discussion. While this does seem to be true, the mock trial shows that he lets his feelings become a big part of the discussion as well. everything he does screams prosecutor to me, so it was shocking to find out he works as defense. Wolfgang has a very interesting way of viewing things, almost dichotomous, unlike what his profile says. it's similar to the format of a trial, where it's not meant to be a team working together to find the complexities and nuance within a certain issue, but rather an attempt to prove your point and disprove the other side. trials aren't supposed to be a discussion where everyone reaches the truth together (Danganronpa trials are not very accurate but of course I don't think they were intended to be in the first place), they are for you to win your case-- as a defense attorney, its poking as many holes into the prosecution’s case as possible. (little fun side note, this is very similar to how debate works; Wolfgang and Damon are a lot more alike than one would originally think.)

Considering all of this, it makes me wonder if Wolfgang was intentionally trying to split the group apart,,,, because it's easier. because it makes more sense. as defense, lawyers may pin the crime on another, but without the burden of proof that prosecution does, they can sling out accusations to increase doubt on prosecutions case without having to actually prove it (that would be left for a separate case). it's easier to divide a group and have a bunch of people follow you while isolating the 'other side', and with that division made, it's more likely someone you isolated will be the 'villian' anyways; and in this case, this was true-- Eva, who has been socially ostracized her whole life, was driven to murder to protect herself from the blinding fear that everyone was out for her (even if that wasn't entirely true). this could be just how Wolfgang has gotten used to going through his life. maybe the bad habits he picked up from his father were the divisive kind of us vs them mindset lawyers have to have in a courtroom.

speaking of his father, let's address the motive-- there's so many things that Wolfgang's blackmail could be about; faking his law degree, not taking the bar exam, defending horrible people, the list goes on. Honestly, a scenario i have considered is that it's about him defending his father for a crime he actually did commit, yet winning the case; or his father commuting a crime in general and winning his case, leaving Wolfgang conflicted as that is the sort of thing he does all the time, yet his father had just taken away his mothers life and gotten free (this is very much just me guessing a possibility though). when Wolfgang was hallucinating, he says he's not like them (to diana who he thinks is someone else) and he'll never be like them; It's most likely that he saw his father. the theory I'm going with right now is that his father was at the very least heavily involved in the likely murder of his mother (thus bring her back in reference to his mom). his father was probably also a lawyer and may have pushed wolfgang into going into the field himself, especially when he sent him to law school as a teenager. maybe Wolfgang wanted to live up to the expectations his father had of him. who knows exactly what Wolfgang wanted everyone to know him as, it was probably a long the lines of a competent lawyer. but, as of right now it's all speculation (objection! haha.... that was not funny my bad), so again, I'd love to hear some thoughts.

Another little funny thing i'd like to note is when Damon and Eva come back to the dinning hall and Wolfgang asks where they've been, Damon responds saying it was for discussing the motive. He's internally smug about how defeated Wolfgang seemed to be by that, and I thought that the funniest shit; very similar to being on cross examination, thinking you have the witness in your hands, when suddenly they wiggle out of your accusation. he's so real for that.

that is pretty much all i've got so far! let me know what y'all think and thanks for reading!!! :)

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 23: Eve Of Revelations [C6]

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!OC

POV: Dual POV (OC, First & Turpin, Third)

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Darkest Night [C1], Prompt 8. Never-ending Consequences [C2], Prompt 10. Lingering Touch [C3], Prompt 14. Deceptive Kindness [C4], Prompt 16. Thoughtful Gifts [C5]

A/N: It’s the day before Christmas Eve and I’m here with the ending of Turpin’s serial for this year’s event - I’m excited! I wasn’t sure how this would pan out when I started writing this part but I think it ended as it should and I’m actually super pleased with this ending ❤

LET’S GOOOOO! Turpin and Julianne need their HEA! 😍👏

Tags/TW’s: Dancing, Pining, Harsh Turpin, Love Confessions, Light Fluff, Kissing, Proposal (more like a demand, but, yeah), WE GET ANOTHER HEA FOR RICKMAS 2024!

Word Count: 4.2k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Eve Of Revelations

⁛•⁛ Julianne’s POV ⁛•⁛

A little more than a week had passed since I left Judge Turpin’s house after causing him yet another moment of disturbance with my intrusion and need for assistance. I had not once been able to let go of him in my thoughts, nor had my heart slowed in its beating for the man. It was odd, truly. I had no reason to feel as I did, nor had I been given any inclination that the man even truly saw me as anything but a citizen who had required aid.

As I clipped in the last false pearl in my hair and pinched my cheeks to turn them rosy I had to draw a steadying breath. The Christmas Ball was soon to commence and I had but a sorrow within me regarding it. A heavy weight atop my shoulders that had never been there before I met the great Judge Turpin — perhaps the weight would not be lifted for quite some time but I was in no position not to find a husband.

I walked with my pale blue dress held off the ground, the underskirts warded off the chill with the help of my cloak and it was a short walk from the Inn to the town hall where the ball was to be held. Lanterns hung around the entrance as well as a few garlands and red bows. Well, this is rather unpleasant but nothing to do about it. Perhaps Constable Greer is already here and I can do my utmost to secure him? He’s a respectable man, with a respectable profession, and not above my station. A possibility, at the very least, and I must clutch each one.

The Hall was warm and loud. Music played and people already danced about the floor as I gave my coat to one of the women by the door who hung it in a cloakroom and offered me a ticket with a number upon it. I thanked the woman and moved through to the large room decorated in green garlands, red satin strings, and an abundance of candles. It was rather beautiful, and the people seemed happy as the air filled with a warmth I had missed these past weeks in London. The city was a dark and gloomy place, absolutely, yet this room was inviting.

I walked in, looking around at the dancing couples and chatting people off the dance floor. Constable Greer waved at me before heading straight toward me with a wide smile on his slightly above-average face. “Miss Brimmer, what a pleasure to see you arrive, my lady,” he said and bowed as I curtsied. “Constable Greer, a pleasure indeed.” I smiled and he smiled right back. “Are you in need of refreshments, or would you prefer a dance?” he asked, not offering me an alternative where being accompanied by him was not an option — it was quite forward, quite bold, but that was all the better for me.

I smiled and let out a little laugh. ���How forward of you, sir. I shall take a dance, if you are offering.” “A dance it is then,” he said and offered his hand. I took it and he moved us out on the floor among the other couples as a waltz began to play. His grip on me was soft and appropriate as we began moving about the room. He led me gently through the turns and spins and smiled happily at me. Yes, this man is a good option… Yet my heart was not in it. The heart matters little for marriage, Julianne. Now dance and smile.

Constable Greer finished off the waltz by dipping me gently despite it not being a true part of the dance. “How about that drink?” he asked, offering his arm as he had not held onto me beyond the dance. “Oh, yes please, sir.” I wrapped my arm around his and he walked me toward the refreshments while talking of London as a city for life and work, he mentioned his position within the force and many other things while I sipped the red wine and nodded when needed.

He was a friendly man, and a happy one it appeared. He had few words of ill-will to speak and kept the conversation flowing with little investment from me — a good thing, too, as I could not truly find many words to speak to the man. The weight atop my shoulders only grew as time passed and my thoughts and heart were elsewhere, far away from the bright and warm room so at odds with the gloomy house that I had found a different kind of warmth within.

“May I ask for another dance, Miss Brimmer?” Constable Greer inquired as I sat my empty wine glass down on the counter. “Certainly, Constable,” I replied with a smile and he once more led me to the floor now packed with couples. We found a little section of space and he held me closer than before so as not to bump into the other dancers before he began moving me about gently.

He still spoke of things like preferred foods and weather, of places in London to visit and people he was willing to introduce me to. It all went quite over my head as I struggled to pay attention and keep my smile bright enough. You need a husband, Julianne! Do not allow your silly thoughts and idiotic feelings for another man far beyond your reach to interfere! Focus, and keep smiling. Do not let the man you will never forget and never reach… My thoughts dwindled out as my smile faltered while Constable Greer spun me around in his gentle grasp.

⁛•⁛ Turpin’s POV ⁛•⁛

| During the same time as Miss Brimmer danced… |

He had held out until the clock struck nine. The very notion of your smile gracing the eyes of those attending such a frivolous thing as a Christmas Ball oddly had him deeply uncomfortable. Did you not say it was such a thing? Yet, you are to attend… with men ogling that perfect smile and hearing that sweet voice in all its warmth and, lightness…

He adorned his coat and hat, his face distorting with a sneer as he jerked the door open and strode out into the dark of night lit by lanterns casting a low glow across the dirty snow below. As he crossed the line between his home and the city. The creaking iron gate threw the infuriating memory of your fear and tear-stained cheeks at him. Unforgivable to cause a light as her such… fear.

Yet, that was not the reason for the long strides carrying him through London for said frivolous gathering. No. Oh no. His mind had a far darker water to wade through as his own villainous side prodded with vicious intent. Not for her, no… For whoever dared entertain even the idea of procuring the little light’s slender hand in marriage. It was her purpose for visiting London, after all. Yet, that purpose, could now only be allowed to have but one… sole… outcome…

“I shall have her,” he said under his breath in a near-desperate manner. For she had, undoubtedly, infected his skin with the warmth he sought and a brightness of voice which ought to have grated on his nerves as it never quieted yet he had found himself listening to it — each word she had spoken so brightly. It had been a violation of an unspoken rule for her to speak so freely in his presence. Yet, she had done so. And that, coincidentally, had now been the ruin of her future and extended to a life sentence of the so-called bad luck she had spoken of. For it certainly was bad luck that she had arrested him so fully, even if perhaps unwittingly done on her part.

He stepped into the Hall, its light a stark contrast to the dark of London behind him. The music an assault on his ears as the one sound he sought was nowhere to be heard. He would have heard Miss Brimmer, there was no hiding now that he had decided the path to be walked.

The couples danced as he was offered a wide expanse as all stepped out of his personal space. He paid them no mind, he had only a single person on it. But as the couples in dance spun around on the floor before him in an array of colours and wide variation of wealth displayed. There, a pale blue dress caught his eye as the woman who had occupied him so fully was dancing — in the arms of the man he had sent to help her all those days ago.

Get your hands, off, her… His mind snarled as he strode forward. His step faltered as Constable Greer spoke, and she smiled up at the man happily. His chest constricted at the sight of the little light she was with a man smiling brightly in return; in a manner he never could.

Then her face altered, slowly it sank in joy and a sight so wrong arrested him in turn. Miss Brimmer no longer smiled, and he had yet to hear or see her speak despite him knowing she was so talkative. Her words rang in his head, words of sorrow and fear tying her tongue while other emotions were no noose to her voice according to the woman herself.

His face hardened, his lips thinned further and his posture became as rigid as it had ever been while he could not stop himself from straightening into his full height. He restrained himself, held his mouth shut and forced his legs to move him forward in a harsh stride with controlled steps so as not to run like a fool in love. Surely, he was not… Surely…

⁛•⁛ Julianne’s POV ⁛•⁛

My arm stretched out just as he spun me out fully. I gasped and twisted my head as a large hand gripped my outreached one so strongly and steadily my heart stuttered with remembrance. My eyes found him a mere second later. J-Judge Turpin… You— His steely glare halted my mind as his grip remained unyielding and decisive while my breath stuttered and my fingers instinctively gripped around his with the unwavering wish for him to not let go.

Constable Greer released me, I could hear his heels click and, in my peripheral, I saw him bow in a rush despite my eyes being held by His Lordship through it all. “Judge Turpin,” Greer said in a rapped manner with far less warmth in his voice, replaced by a dread and respect so different from the warmth that bloomed in my heart. “Constable Greer,” he said. “I shall take this little light off your hands. Leave,” he demanded and Constable Greer did not even utter so much as stuttered breath before stepping back.

The judge tugged me forward and I stumbled a step before his free hand caught my waist and his sturdy grip never faltered or loosened. “Judge Turpin, sir, you are here,” I said quietly, shocked into a low tone. “Indeed, how observant you are, Miss Brimmer.” My cheeks warmed and a smile widened my lips with no prompting from me. “I apologize for stating the obvious, sir. I am merely surprised, shocked, even, my lord.” He arched a brow at me and drew me even closer. “Yet now you speak.”

My brows scrunched. I had no idea what he meant by that. “You have been quiet, my talkative little light,” he explained in a low murmur so dark and consuming I could barely comprehend the words despite hearing him clearly. “I believe I have talked most of our time together, sir. Have I not?” He smirked, it was a devilish ordering of his features as it shined with a powerful sort of satisfaction. “Indeed, you have.” He had me at a loss with that but, for the time being, I did not care for the reason behind what he said.

The music still flowed and the couples around us danced yet none bumped into us — nor did they invade the space around the man holding me so firmly. He had still not let go, and the feel of his stable hands was soothing on a whole other level. I ought to have curtsied, but he offered me no freedom to do so as we stood in a sudden silence that I felt no need to fill with words — for the first time in my life. My smile never faltered, my cheeks still hot with a blush he set upon me by merely being there.

My heart fluttered and my fingers tingled while my knees shook as his unyielding eyes never left mine. “Miss Brimmer,” he began quietly while taking a step back, which moved us to a more proper distance. “I do not frolic under these circumstances.” “Is this you telling me you do not dance, sir?” I asked with a slight giggle. “No. I dance. I am quite proficient at it.” “I believe you…” I whispered as he arched a brow at me with a sudden, tiny twinkle to the steely grey. “Come, we shall return to my home. You do not need to remain here.”

I blinked. Whatever spell he had me under flickered for a moment as my purpose for attending the party in London returned to me. “I apologize, sir. I have no choice in the matter. Even if I do not wish to offend you, or deny you, my lord, I must remain here. I do believe you have just scared off the only prospect I had managed to garner the attention of,” I said and my smile faltered for a bit while his hand hardened around mine. “You are denying me, miss?” he asked in a harder, darker voice than I had heard him speak to me with before. “I will not be denied.” “But, sir, I must find a husband. You know of this, I spoke of this with—” “Yes.” “Then why are you—” “You have procured a husband.” I blinked. “Huh? What? I have not, sir.”

He smirked, his thumb stroking over my knuckles while my heart beat harder within my chest. “I believe you declared your future husband as a grand and respectable man.” “I have done no such thing.” The only one I spoke such words about is you and you are far— “Ah… You made the connection, little light.” “S-sir-!” I wheezed, feeling my mind fall into a tumble and my heart into an absolute fit. “Come now,” he said quietly. “I shall not be denied.” “But sir, you are far too grand and I am but the daughter of a smith master. I could not possibly ever be worthy of a man of your standing.”

He arched a brow at me, his features hard and set. “Not worthy?” he snarled. “Miss Brimmer, you are the only worthy one on this wretched earth of ruin and damnation. I shall take your light, and I. will. not. hear another word out of that sweet mouth that is not an agreement. You shall take responsibility for the state you have so foolishly placed me in.”

I gaped at the man my heart was in such a rage for. Was he truly declaring that I affected him? That he was affected by me in a manner so capturing it brought marriage to his mind? I am losing my marbles. This cannot be happening, I am not the sort of person who is blessed with such luck. The judge knew this. He knew of my bad luck and my talkative manners, my less-than-proper behaviour and my lack of standing in society. I had only ever hoped to find a man of my own stature — a farmer, a blacksmith, a shoemaker perhaps. Yet, there he stood, proclaiming that he wished to have me as his wife and that he would not be denied by me. I am in no position to deny him, and I do not wish to… But, what if he is toying with me? Playing some cruel trick upon this lesser woman before him knowing none would come to aid me?

“Sir… Are you toying with me?” I asked, my fingers growing numb in his sturdy grip as my voice faltered in my fear of heartbreak. “I am not a man with the time nor the inclination to toy with a woman, not… in this manner,” he said and there was both a smirk and a hint of frustration coming with those words. “You wish to take me as your wife? Truly, my lord?” “Am I such an inconceivable partner? Are you so deterred by me?” “No!” I gasped. “No. No, sir… I am-, I am-, I…” “Then agree,” he demanded. “Be my wife.” “Y-yes. Yes, my lord,” I whispered as my knees shook and my stomach was in an upheaval under the satisfied eyes looking down at me.

⁛•⁛

I cannot believe it. My mind raced, my heart pounded, and a smile stretched my lips so widely my cheeks hurt. I, the black cat crossing the road, had been asked to wed the only man my heart had ever been affected by. A man so far out of my reach, so different from myself in every manner conceivable. The gloomy house of which parlour I was situated in — as the man himself had gone to change out of his outdoor attire — felt slightly warmer than before. The angel I had gifted him stood atop the mantel, the only piece of Christmas spirit in sight.

Judge Turpin strode into the room, all stark and stoic with that air of power one could not possibly mistake for anything else. “Sir,” I said as he stopped before me. “I must confess to some confusion. Why me? Why wed me?” “You do not know?” I shook my head. “Neither do I.” “What? You are wanting to wed a woman such as me without a reason?” “No. There are many reasons, each one stranger than the next.” “Oh, so, it is a strange thing even for you, sir.” “No. The reasons are strange, but that I am to wed you is not.” “Sir, I do not understand when you speak in riddles in such a way,” I confessed as my need to know he was indeed not toying with my innocent heart grew ever larger.

He sat down beside me on the sofa, his posture rigid and his face showed no hints of his thoughts. “Are you aware of who I am, miss?” “Yes, of course I am. Your reputation has spread all over London, sir. There is not a man or woman who does not know your name or the fierceness of your court. You are a most harsh judge, a pillar for the law and justice in a most severe manner, sir. Who would not be aware of you? Well, granted, I did not know who you were before your name was spoken but that is merely a lack of awareness for features,” I said, chatting away as his presence comforted me with its rigidity. I felt as if I knew where I had him, and there was just something rather pleasant about the harshness of him — the manner he existed in spoke to some lack of it within me, I was his opposite and where the world frightened me it seemed to bow before him.

“Talkative?” I smiled. “Always, sir.” “Incorrect.” “Sir?” He glanced at me. “When frightened or saddened, you speak very little.” “Ah, yes, true, my lord.” “That is one of the strange reasons, little light.” “That I do not talk while afraid or sad?” He chuckled; a most glorious and deep sound. “You are talkative with me, as if there is no fear in a sweet woman such as yourself in my presence.” “There is not…” I whispered. “You are a grand man, harsh and stoic with the power of the law at your fingertips but I do not fear the man of the rumours nor the man sitting here with me. There is nothing about you that frightens me, sir. Quite the opposite. You are everything I am not, sir.” “Explain.”

I drew a small breath, rubbing my fingers together atop my thighs before pinching the blue fabric. “I am frightened of the world. I am small and of little consequence, I talk too much and come off as either brazen or frustrating — to some I am humorous or inviting, too, I suppose. I have little value and am not a pillar of anything. I am quite the opposite of you and you… are everything I am not. There is little I can do about who I am or what bad luck afflicts me, nor can I control my heart or mind as it longs for you because of how you make me feel.” He arched a brow. “And how is that?” “Safe. Safe, sir.”

He looked at me. For a second he softened and the steely eyes swirled for a moment before he seemed to find himself anew. “My dark heart calls for you as well, Miss Brimmer. It has never called for another and I am, as you say, the opposite of you. Where you see it as unreasonable for us to wed I will not be denied. Where you see me as out of your reach, I can with ease take you.” I gulped. “Sir… You speak most sweetly.” “No, I do not. I shall teach you the ways of my world, and I shall teach you to know you belong to me, by my side. You shall learn, little light, that the only one worthy is you.” His voice hummed and rumbled with a forboding wickedness I could not place yet it had a tingle shoot through my body as my breathing turned shallow under his intense gaze as he spoke.

“S-sir, I do not understand what you mean. But I find myself n-not caring when you speak in such a manner.” He leaned closer. “And what, do tell, is the manner in which I speak?” I drew a ragged breath, my chest heaved as he inched inappropriately close. “W-with want, my lord. With want and warmth…” Much like my cheeks are now burning your words seem to do so as well.

He was far too close, his breath fanned my face and I could barely draw breaths deep enough to sustain myself. “There is want, Miss Brimmer—” “Julianne, my lord. Please, my name, it is Julianne.” “Julianne…” Hearing my name spoken in his thunderous voice in such a dark purr had me staving off a needy sound I had never felt myself inclined to make before. “A most suitable name, perfectly paired with Richard, as is my name.” “Richard,” I whispered and his eyes widened. “Again,” he demanded. I swallowed, my eyes flicking between his for a moment. “Richard.”

A strange snarl mixed with a harsh breath left him and before I knew it his lips pressed against mine, suffocating the gasp leaving me and swallowing the strange moan of want leaving me. His thin lips were unlike any I had imagined would kiss me and the manner the tip of his nose dug into my cheek felt perfect — never had I imagined my first kiss to set me on fire.

“Exquisite,” he purred as he leaned back, leaving me panting and heaving while unable to move. “I shall wed you, Julianne, and you shall be mine for all time to come. I shall help you overcome your fear of the world and you shall forever be a light in my darkness as you have been from the moment I found you.” “S-sir, you are toying with me now,” I whispered as my voice faltered. “I assure you, I am not.” “I never thought you felt anything for me,” I pushed out as his hand cupped my chin steadily. “I assure you, none other would ever have been allowed to disturb my peace with constant chatter. Nor would I have offered my home as a sanctuary. You affected me from the very first moment I laid eyes upon your smiling face in the dark of night.” “I found you handsome and inviting, sir,” I confessed. “I felt safe, protected, for the first time in my life there was no need to fear…”

He tilted my head to hold my gaze. “You have captured me,” he murmured. “As you have me, Richard. I do not believe in love at first sight, yet I find myself loving you already…” His eyes widened. “I am a fool in love,” he hummed and his lips met mine once more while his steady hand kept me in place. Not once did he let go as warmth bloomed in my chest and the certainty of my future with him released my shoulders from their stiffness when his tongue darted out to caress my bottom lip roguishly. “Mine,” he declared against my lips and the depth of his voice quieted my mind completely. “Yours…” I whispered as the gloom seemed brighter and the house warmer…

 

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: These two, I adore them. I hope you’ve loved this story ❤ tomorrow is the last day of Rickmas, and Christmas Eve, meaning the fifth Rickmas celebration will be concluded and I am absolutely thrilled to have managed a fic a day all through this event (she says as she’s needing to still write, prepare and proof tomorrow's fic 😂👏). I’ll see you tomorrow darlings! ❤❤❤

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[hubbvrd]

Off day | Sam Hubbard

❝ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.❞

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Carefully, Y/n pulled her cozy blanket over her with one hand while trying to balance her laptop as best she could with the other.

It was the first day of the off season.

Sam had finished all the games and y/n had taken a few weeks where she would work from home to spend more time with Sam.

Some people probably thought that the majority of the stars flew off on vacation, sunbathing and sipping cocktails by the pool as far away from home as possible.

But not Sam and y/n. The two wanted to approach the off-season as relaxed as possible, so the two had decided to tackle everything spontaneously.

And so the two hadn't booked a vacation yet, because the two wanted to do that spontaneously.

One or the other had to plan his things, know when it went where and have fixed dates for certain things.

But that was different for y/n and Sam.

The two of them had always been quite spontaneous, which they both got along with very well and it had never really caused any problems.

Satisfied, y/n sighed when she felt the big cozy pillow in her back.

She loved to snuggle up on the couch in comfy clothes - mostly she wore Sam's hoodie - and surf a bit on the laptop.

And today was just such a day.

"Are you sure it's okay if I play a little?" , Sam asked her as he unzipped the wrapper from his new PlayStation game he'd bought an hour ago.

"What was my answer the last ten times?" , y/n asked him the counter question and flipped open her laptop.

"It was : no I didn't and now play before I change my mind" , Sam quoted y/n.

"Well there's your answer."

Y/n couldn't help smirking, which is why she put her laptop on her bent knees so Sam couldn't see her face.

"Okay, thanks. I won't play for long either. After all, I'm off work now, and I want to spend the time with my wonderful girlfriend."

"Suck up," she said, but couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto her lips.

"I love you too!" , Sam exclaimed as he left the room to head upstairs to the room that was being used as a gaming and movie room.

Y/n thought about what she should do now in the time on her laptop until Sam would come back and they would do something together.

But she didn't have to think too long, because shortly after she landed on Pinterest, the app she loved so much.

There she mostly found craft ideas, which she liked to try out and often gave away for birthdays.

But also outfit, decoration, or hairstyle ideas were at the top of y/n's list of pinboards, which grew more and more on her account with every visit to the app.

And so, for now, she was busy for a few hours.

—

When y/n next glanced at the clock, she was startled to find that it was almost two hours later.

She had been quite engrossed in all the new pins, so she hadn't noticed how quickly the time had passed.

She closed the laptop and listened to see if Sam had finished his game and was in another room.

But the house was silent.

A glance outside also showed that it was getting a little dark by now.

But not because it was so late, but because a rain shower was coming.

Hopefully it would pass quickly, y/n thought to herself, as she closed the laptop and then began to fold her cozy blanket.

After making the sofa neat again, she ran over to the adjacent kitchen and filled a glass with water, which she emptied in one go and began listening again.

But it remained silent, so y/n assumed that Sam had also forgotten the time and was still playing The Last of Us.

In fact, he had been talking about the game for a few weeks, which some of his teammates were playing themselves and had inspired Sam with their talk of the game, so that Sam had subsequently bought it as well, although the Playstation had actually more or less always been just a dust collector.

Briefly, y/n thought about whether she should let Sam play a little more or whether she should go straight up to him.

But she decided to prepare some sandwiches first, so she got everything she needed and started to make some sandwiches.

Quietly she hummed the new Harry Styles song, while she moved her hips lightly to the beat and carefully placed the sandwiches.

A moment later, as she looked contentedly at the sandwiches piled on a large plate on the counter, she decided to check on Sam now.

It was raining outside by now, so the rain was lightly pattering against the windows.

Otherwise, it was still pretty quiet in the house, which didn't change when y/n ran up the stairs.

At the top of the house were five more rooms. One of them was the bedroom and the second one was the gaming and cinema room.

Slowly y/n walked towards the second room, where the door was ajar.

Cautiously y/n opened the door and took a look inside the room.

Sam was sitting in the corner, where there was a small PC screen on a desk and a gaming chair in front of it.

He had headphones on and probably he would get scared if y/n entered the room.

That's why y/n carefully leaned against the door and looked at her boyfriend, who she could only see from the side.

But he looked quite concentrated, so she again considered whether she should disturb him.

The decision was quickly taken away from her, however, when she glanced at the clock on the wall in the room.

By now, Sam had been gaming for over two hours, which he probably didn't even notice himself, as he was as engrossed in the game as y/n had been on Pinterest just a few minutes ago.

Carefully, she knocked on the wood of the door, which she wasn't sure Sam had even heard.

Nevertheless, she crept over to Sam on her socks across the parquet floor, which creaked softly in a few places.

He didn't have his headset on both ears properly, so he had probably already heard y/n, but made no effort to turn around to her.

"Sammy?" , she asked cautiously as she slowly moved her hand to his shoulder and placed it there a moment later.

"Huh?" , she quietly perceived from the addressed, who, however, did not take his eyes from the screen and it looked like he was just in a place where it was impossible to turn around or off now.

"You've been playing for over two hours," she said softly.

From Sam she perceived only a slight nod, which left her smiling slightly.

"I made sandwiches" , she informed him, but Sam didn't seem to really notice her sentence anymore, as he was already quite engrossed in his game again.

"You love to eat them, don't you? Extra with cheese" , she tried again to get Sam to listen to her carefully.

But no chance.

Then just differently, y/n thought to herself, as she pulled the second gaming chair over to her, let herself fall on it and then slid as close as she could to Sam.

He briefly looked over at her, but didn't think much of it, so he continued to gamble intently.

Y/n, however, began to poke him in the stomach shortly after, which didn't begin to bother Sam at first until y/n repeated the process over and over again within a few seconds.

"I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention" , she let him know when she noticed that the poking was starting to make him uncomfortable.

"Okay you have my full attention," Sam said a moment later as he turned off the screen and placed the headset on the desk.

Sam leaned back and then held his girlfriend's hand, pulling her onto his lap afterwards.

"Do you know what I just told you?" , she asked him as she placed her hands on his neck.

"That I look cute gambling?" , he asked her with a grin, trying to lighten the situation a bit, because he didn't want to make y/n angry.

"No, not that. I said I made sandwiches, but you'd rather spend more time with your new game than with me."

"Aww is my girlfriend jealous of a video game?" , he asked her with a smirk as he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Of a video game? Never!" , she said quickly and then crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Then you won't mind if I keep playing now, will you?"

Even though Sam was joking, y/n gave him a quick evil eye and quickly exclaimed

"No! I finally have your attention now, don't I?"

"And you'll have it for the rest of the evening now, too" , Sam promised her as he stood up, picked her up and then carried her downstairs to eat his favorite sandwiches.

[lulu-spooks]

I’ve been trying to get into Hozier lately, and seeing as you seem to be the resident expert on him, what songs would you recommend starting with?

(I know his more popular ones obviously, like Take me to church, Too sweet, and Nobody’s soldier, but I want to know about some of his secret bangers)

EEEEEEEE!!!! You’re in for a treat!

And thank you for the acknowledgment of resident expert, I have 10 years experience in hozier listening and I don’t play about it.

So the thing about hozier is that I truly believe he has a no skip discography on all of his solo works. And pretty much all of his collabs are also bangers (with the possible exception of tell it to my heart. Don’t start there)

Ok so from his first album I want to highlight a few tracks, Jackie and Wilson, from Eden, work song, like real people do, and to be alone. They are all sonically very similar (as are most of the tracks on the first album) but they all sound totally different. The instrumentation stays the same for most of the tracks but I am literally incapable of mixing them up. They all have unique sounds while still remaining cohesive in the context of the album. Expect great guitar and vocals, very little to no synths, funky beats (including some fairly cool time signatures). Excellent lyrics, definitely worth reading along. Especially cherry wine which at first glance sounds like the most beautiful love song but if you read along you’ll see how violent it is.

Wasteland baby is the second album. Standout tracks for me are Nina cried power, dinner and diatribes, would that I, shrike, be, and the title track wasteland baby. This one is definitely the sexiest album. Expect much more exploration into bluesy tunes and sound effects, the beats are getting even funkier, the lyrics are catastrophic and feature a lot of references to Greek mythology. This is the kind of album that you sit at the end of the world and listen to while everything falls apart. Wasteland baby the song epitomises this. It’s the conflict between standing up and fighting the broken systems that oppress people vs the need to give up and wash your hands of everything. Admitting we tried our best and it wasn’t enough. At least I have you. The deluxe tracks for this one are some of his best work on this project so check out why would you be loved, nfwmb and moments silence too.

Unreal unearth. This one is my favourite and my being has been altered by this album in ways I can’t even describe. Every song is a grade A hit. It’s actually my favourite album of all time I think. Honestly everything on this one is worth listening to but at some point once you’ve listened to all of the tracks individually, I cannot reccomend enough that you sit down and listen to the whole thing in order. No pauses. The whole thing with this album is that it’s a journey into the underworld inspired by Dante’s inferno. Each song occupies a different circle of hell and discusses topics surrounding the cardinal sins that are punished in each circle. It’s worth searching uk which sings belong in which circle. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a concept album but it uses the story as a great jumping point for exploring moral, political and religious topics that are not discussed in the original cantos. This album is a masterpiece and I could literally write about it for hours but my thumbs are already falling off so I’ll keep it quick. Standout tracks are Francesca, first time, eat your young, abstract psychopomp, who we are, unknown nth, all things end, first light, de selby part 1 and butchered tongue. If you want the more explicitly political tracks choose eat your young and butchered tongue and READ ALONG. I could write fucking essays just on eat your young. This album was also written in the context of covid 19 and the lockdown and songs like all things end really make a heartbreaking but uplifting anthem for this period in time. The general sound of the album is very different to the two preceding albums. Expect much more manipulation of vocals and distortion of instruments. Expect more instruments. Expect full orchestra and stripped back guitar. Expect drums that sound like thunder and lightning. And for gods sake read along with this one. Cuz it’s fucking fantastic lyric writing and a lot of it can be missed in his pronunciation. When Andrew learns to annunciate it is OVER for us all.

Extended songs from unreal unearth are numerous and you’ve said you’ve heard nobodies soldier (also very political) and too sweet. I’d also recommend wildflower and barley for a soft lockdown summer feeling tinged with hopelessness, empire now as an anthem for Irish liberation and how much it was fucking worth it despite the troubles that followed and that you are for the most year inducing love song also within the context if lockdown. Just see “that I’d be anyway that you are” which will I’m sure soon be written on my body in tattoo ink. Through the flood acts as the introduction to the full album experience, hymn to Virgil is the last one.

Anyway have fun I tried not to write a fucking essay but I did. For unreal unearth in particular I have read no less than 5 books to examine source materials for his lyricism. I also learned a fuck ton about production to understand how he gets the sounds he does in his music. All to say this guys music is my whole life. And it can be hard to tone it down. If it all sounds confusing I’m sorry I’ve been writing this for like 40 minutes and I just did a full day in the recording studio and my brain is fried and my fingers are dead and I need to sleep, where I will probably listen to ‘to someone from a warm climate’ to sleep. Bye :P

[whatever-letmebe]

So in the LitA novel "Love Sky" there is a moment where Pai helps Sky pee when Sky is sick and I'm not expecting them to give us that scene in the japanese adaptation but also, they could right? They won't but imagine if they did?

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[hylianengineer]

What's the most evil lab equipment in your opinion 😂

In my very subjective opinion? Ion chromatographs are on my shit list. It's not really their fault - the one I have to work with is old, hasn't been maintained properly, and no one else knows how to use it so I have to figure out everything myself, which is NOT FUN! It's finicky, frustrating, and it requires working with sulfuric acid, which I do not enjoy. It's very very sensitive and if you accidentally contaminate it with ions, you will be troubleshooting for weeks trying to figure out what happened. Ions are everywhere, in everything. In dust, in tap water (and nearly all filtered water, we have a special machine that makes Ultra Pure water with no ions or anything in it), on your skin, on virtually every surface that hasn't been specially cleaned. So if you have extra ions that shouldn't be there, it's a guessing game - are they from the sample? The eluent? Sample vials? Glassware? Is the water filter malfunctioning? Are the ions even there at all or is the detector messed up? You just have to keep trying stuff until it sorts itself out. The one I work with has NOT sorted itself out yet and I've been at this for over two weeks. I'm at my wit's end here.

And bonus answer for non-instrument equipment: drying tins. They're these little aluminum trays to put soil or whatever in when you stick them in the drying oven but they make Bad Noises when they scrape together. Also they bend easily, so if you stack them and then they get knocked around, sometimes it becomes very very difficult to get them apart.

In contrast, the best instrument is the Gas Chromatograph and the best other equipment is micropippettes. The GC is straightforward, easy to use, really hard to contaminate, and rarely has technical problems (plus when it does, they're not my problem - I am not the designated GC expert). Micropippettes are just fun because it's satisfying to click the button to release the pipette tip and launch it into the trash can.

[chemicalarospec]

.

[seddair]

-

[tapakah0]

(runout of tags again I hate it here gotta bite the max ammount) #Also. I feel like Ward's perception of Oscar will be changing from now on #Yep. a bastard. a smart bastard. But let's be real. He can survive and get you out, follow him # Mhm. Cass I think I did mention that I was up for the story, because of what could possibly be in this story later # We reached the point where I open the door, close it from inside and throw the key in the window from 10th floor

Part 13 ;)

Oh no, they're roommates now?? Hope you're ready for the fluff, family dynamics, and chaos that follows~

Previous

Masterpost

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.