#that is once again all in the tags. man i am so good at this

[17020]

uhh.. kotoha..? what happened last night..?

nsfw (?). not explicit, but i'm tagging it anyway. content warning for dubcon (togame is sober, fem! reader is not), alcohol consumption, implied thigh riding. this happened to me at a halloween party a few weeks ago, so to cope i'm writing it out. stay safe beautiful angels! togame is an ass in this one. i am sorry to jo togame. tried to lighten the mood with cameos from other shows.

it was all a blur. the bottle of rum you gulped down in less than an hour did not help, either.

what started out as a tranquil week ended up with a text from your best friend: an address to a house for a halloween party. ladies pay $5 if you signed up beforehand, $10 if you show up at the door. begrudgingly, you agreed, being added to the party's group chat and noticing some familiar names.

and when you're invited in such a hurry, the options for costumes are non-existent. throwing on a skimpy all black outfit and styling your hair with some accessories, you hoped you would at least pass as misa amane.

not that anyone would mind, anyway, because as soon as you and kotoha stepped in, you were flooded with the scent of sweat and liquor.

knowing absolutely nobody meant you had to join an established group. two women alone at a party was never a good sign, so when you spotted a group of girls and one guy, you knew you had to spark up a conversation.

what you didn’t expect, was to be approached by a cowboy. and behind the messy buttoned up shirt, red bandana and huge brown hat, was shishitoren’s second in command.

“so, what’re you dressed up as, pretty?”

his tone was laced with cockiness, as if every fiber of his being was pure gold. gold that, in his eyes, might’ve been the world’s greatest treasure, yet nothing more than cheap trash in yours. but when rum hasn’t hit you hard enough, you need to find some sort of entertainment. what’s a conversation with a man going to do?

“misa misa” you smiled, “what about you? what are you dressed up as?”

he pretended to think about it for a moment, as a younger, shorter man jabbed him with his elbow, gushing about how you were the greatest costume he’d ever seen of misa so far. “i’m dressed as a cowboy, pretty” he said, tilting the hat on his head. “so you’re misa misa, where’s your light?”

you shook your head while laughing, “there’s no light here, bud. so what brings you here?”

after long talks of what dragged each of you to a backyard after party somewhere in keisei, finding out you live near one another, and him asking you the ‘how old do you think i am’ question, there was one thought that never left your mind…

gosh. jo togame is so annoying.

it was annoying, the way he tried leading you away from your best friend kotoha and onto the dance floor, with your hand doing crazy signals behind your back in hopes of her noticing. which she did. she dragged you away from him with the excuse of looking for another nonexistent friend, which you were truly grateful for.

and not even an hour later, you saw the cowboy again. to your surprise, he was on the dance floor once more. with a girl who looked exactly like you.

it was obvious he had a type.

a while later, you stumbled across him again, this time completely alone, and completely shirtless. it was then when you realized the alcohol had finally kicked in, full on. you nearly tripped on your own feet as you walked towards him, with togame’s arm snaking around your waist to catch you.

“you look a bit gone, pretty. gotcha some water.”

you took the plastic cup from his hand, almost gulping it down in one go. when he set the cup aside his attention was fully on you, and that was when your body decided it was best to fool around.

“i saw youu pretty boyyy” you slurred, “saw you with someone else while i was gone!”

he chuckled as he brought you closer to him, “you were with your friend, beautiful. thought you didn’t want me there, cause i do want you here.”

in a swift movement, his chest was pressed against your back as he swayed both of your bodies to the music blaring through the speakers. “you wanna dance with me, doll?”

you nodded, as the big hands on your waist pulled you even closer to togame, his hips slowly grinding against yours. you could feel his breath hitch on your neck, as the music became louder and louder. grinding soon enough turned into thrusting, with his hands lowering towards your hips. togame was quick to turn you around, your legs parted as he propped up his knee. togame leaned in, with you softly pushing his head to the side, shaking your head and mouthing a ‘no’.

but jo togame liked a challenge.

so as you tried to regain your composure one of his hands lowered to your ass, rolling your hips against his thigh as he closed the distance between the two of you, the other hand cradling your jaw.

jo tasted normal. you tasked like alcohol filth.

he wasted no time slipping his tongue inside, earning a gasp from you as you desperately clung onto him for stability. thinking you might as well enjoy your singleness, you finally kissed back, fingers running through his raven hair as you nearly got yourself off on his thigh. yet you felt nothing.

pulling away for air, he sighed dreamily. “you kiss so fuckin’ good, y’know that?”

“so i’ve been told” you laughed, before worry took over you. “where’s my best friend? i want water for her too.”

togame looked around, unsure of how to respond. “well, if it’s your best friend, i suppose i can grab another cup for ya. stay here, alright?”

he walked away and headed to the counter where they had the drinks, and a tap on your shoulder made you turn around. it was a tall, purple haired man who you’d recognize anywhere.

“name’s gen. wanna dance?”

you lazily nodded as he walked closer to you, his hand on your waist and your arms around his neck. and you smiled, because he wasn’t as forward as togame. what a relief!

your happiness came to an end when he leaned in, to which you cupped his jaw and mouthed a ‘no’ while shaking your head. your happiness returned when he nodded, apologizing for trying to kiss you in the first place. and when the dj shouted ‘where the singles ladies at’, you screamed louder than any crazed fangirl when seeing their favorite singer.

gen laughed as he nudged for you to look to your side, where there were a group of men whistling, pointing to a man with a raven bowlcut, with his friends yelling ‘he’s single!’ to you.

you giggled as you bumped into none other than togame, who had a cup in his hand. finally.

taking the cup you guided him to kotoha. if by guiding, you meant stumbling your way through people, and togame having his hands on you to make sure you don’t trip and fall. and you were grateful to reach her so quickly, because as soon as she finished her cup you got a text from your tsubaki saying she was already there to pick you both up.

you turned to the cowboy, who leaned down to kiss you deeply once more, followed by a quick peck. when he asked for your socials, he smiled.

“i’ll be honest, pretty. i know i was with other girls tonight but you were the most beautiful girl here. i’d love to get to know you more. would you like that, doll?”

you smiled, “of course! i’d love that, togame.”

and with that, you left with kotoha, with her whispering in your ear. “you’re seriously gonna meet the dude?” you laughed, “oh hell no! i don’t think he’ll text anyway.”

a day later, your phone buzzed.

jotogame: hey ☺️ do you remember me 🙈?

ynln: no 😊👍

jotogame: well that’s a shame, i would’ve loved to have gotten to know you

jotogame: you’re beautiful

ynln: thanks

jotogame: there’s something about the way your eyes looked at me, like they hypnotized me

ynln: glibness doesn’t work on me, boy

jotogame: you know i was gonna stop replying after your “thanks” but i thought you should know.

ynln: i’m truly sorry if i caused you any trouble at the party yesterday 😊 take care

jotogame: yeah i just took care of you, don’t worry

you never blocked someone so fast in your life.

taglist: @toyogamii @stunies @hayatoseyepatch @takiishiluvr @okkotsushi @maruflix @nyxypoo @littleplantfreak @vinomino

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Jason's obsession with Dick and Tim is something I'm thinking about

[ender1821]

im a child of divorce

[incessantlark]

eef wieners...

[hauntingblue]

Ace...?? they cloned my beautiful wife...

[rathag]

My Take on what Gargauth should wear.

[afniel]

me: I am going to write a little fanfic out of this dream I had with funny little robot guys.

me, but 19k words later: girl help I am exploring themes of disability, chronic pain, ableism, subculture, systemic oppression, PTSD, aging, neurodivergence, community, forgiveness, healing, and recovery. with funny little robot guys.

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[daz4i]

while I'm not one for romantic relationships or long term stuff i really do hope i meet someone who makes me feel big emotions again (spongebob getting a piano dropped on him meme. of the positive sort) somewhere. somehow. it's been so long. bc of shitty therapy i conditioned myself into stepping back and never letting myself feel and i just want to know someone who'd be able to make me break this conditioning and return that same amount of emotions too. one more time

[waratteiru]

.

[cat-dragron]

Going from Ancillary Sword into August Kitko and the Mechs from Space is such like... whiplash to my brain. Ancillary Sword was challenging to read in a way I wasn't expecting but man was it rich as hell, the depth of the worlds and characters in that book are insane. Meanwhile reading AKatMfS is like... the premise is so cool and seems right up my alley but something about the writing is just not gelling with me for whatever reason. I want to get through this book so badly because I am interested but like... part of me is just wondering is this it?? Is this all there is to it?

[adozentothedawn]

To rant or not to rant, that is the question.

[nomairuins]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[screampied]

❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.

wc. 6.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.

an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .

as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”

“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.

“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”

the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.

as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.

he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.

he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.

god, he was handsome.

gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”

you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,

you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”

“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.

his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”

and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,

your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.

thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.

alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”

“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.

right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.

with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.

gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.

“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”

your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.

the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.

every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.

“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.

he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.

the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.

ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,

not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .

you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.

“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”

and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.

“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.

your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”

“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”

you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.

with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”

a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.

as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.

“c’mere, sweetheart..”

out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.

throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it. 

his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.

he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache. 

“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”

“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”

“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside. 

sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”

“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses. 

playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”

“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”

stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”

“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.

gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”

“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”

you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”

he was so cocky, yet you were so needy. 

as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust. 

“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.

you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”

you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”

“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”

you start off realllll slow, 

sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..

your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.

as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.

he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features. 

gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”

“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear.  his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”

his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.

breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”

“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.

his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.

as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”

“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”

as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”

“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.

with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”

“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”

“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”

“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”

you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.

his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”

“but—”

“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”

and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.

“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers. 

not just any passenger though, 

gojo satoru. 

he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”

with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”

“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”

“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.” 

panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”

“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”

“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”

you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.

“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”

“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.

“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”

“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”

“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

and then— his phone rings.

you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”

still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”

in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.

“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.

a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.

he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”

“what—?”

with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.

you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”

you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.

you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”

right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.

“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”

“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”

gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”

he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.

zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”

[boogiewoogieweeb]

#in addition edward’s also one of the few privy to the reality of the tunnbaq pretty early on #and that is above ANY of their pay grades #and he just has to deal with that because there is literally no time to consider the cosmic horror when it's actively hunting you #ironic that crozier's decision to leave supplies and not men is way more likely to result in deaths caused by exposure/hypothermic #which is what it seems edward ended up dying of #also obsessed that him and jopson. in many ways the two hands of crozier's leadership. have similar but contrasting deaths #overall i just think fandom tends to portray edward as a worse leader than he actually is #at the end of the day he got the survivors the furthest and it killed him to do so #just that it surely killed him that he couldn’t get them home. that he had to leave jopson and the rest behind #he even intercedes on silna’s behalf when crozier tells him to escort her off ship #making him one of maybe 5 people to show her a shred of human decency #he’s so compassionate and loyal that his downfall is people taking advantage of that #imperialism takes the best of men and sacrifices them for nothing and all it has to show for it is more death #rip edward little you would have loved star wars

A Consideration of 1st Lt. Edward Little of HMS Terror (As Played by Matthew McNulty)

The thing about Lt. Edward Little is that he had the highest ideals and yet was set up in so many ways to fail them.  

We occasionally see glimpses of the man Edward Little must have been in order to be appointed First Lieutenant on a very prestigious expedition: reliable, capable, stalwart. 

(Continued below the cut, as this got very long)

He had that, before, when he was doing the job he was trained for, ie running a ship at sea.  What he hasn’t been trained for at all is managing 129 125 119 105 ? men stuck in pack ice in endless night, later trudging over ice and shale, trying to keep them busy and out of trouble and from getting killed by a demon bear.  Of course he’s out of his depth, but honestly aren’t most of them?  Of the lieutenants Gore (RIP) is the only one who seems to be in his element and he’s the only one with Arctic experience so that tracks.  Even Le Vesconte is getting by on charisma and the power of peer pressure, neither of which actually make for competent officering.  So that’s the scene he’s stuck in, and no wonder he’s out of his depth.  

Then we have the circumstances specific to Edward Little.  He's spent the first two-plus years of the voyage as the first for a captain who is very depressed and increasingly alcoholic. As Crozier's state deteriorates and especially after Franklin dies, Little has to tread a very fine and somewhat blurry line. He has to cover for Crozier, picking up the slack that is inevitably dropped; he also has to prop Crozier up in such a way that his leadership as Captain isn't undermined with the crew. A big part of both of those is making sure that the right questions are being asked, that all practicalities are being factored in, but he has to ask those questions without seeming to question Crozier’s authority. Thus he must essentially be an acting captain without seeming to do so either to the men or to Crozier . He is not someone who wants power per se; in fact I think what he wants most is to be a good and competent 1st Lt. But because he's under an semi-incapacitated captain, he has no choice but to take on some of that power while appearing to be no more than a loyal lieutenant. He's leading without being seen to lead, and he's already seen Crozier flog three men for among other things insubordination and disrespect (and without due process).

Crozier has also put him in a position of having to lie - both directly and by omission! For example, when questioned he tells Fitzjames (who outranks him) "much to do on Terror is all” - leaving JFJ to draw his own conclusions on the source of that “much” and the extent to which it is falling on Little.  The instruction to procure more whiskey “discreetly” is nearly if not actually insulting in how far below Little's rank it is.  Having to do it “discreetly” is even worse.  He is being treated as an errand boy, and not just an errand boy but one tasked with something that is clearly unsavory, even illicit.   By ordering him to to this, he makes Little complicit in the very vice that is causing all of these problems, and Little by virtue of his position is unable to refuse any of these direct orders, even ones that are way below his station. (The fact that Jopson, Crozier's actual steward who was actually in charge of these things, was not given that task is also telling although I’m not sure of what - perhaps that Crozier wanted someone who outranked the Erebus’ steward to do the asking; perhaps that he felt some shame in asking Jopson.)

Through all of this, Little is having to cover for a man who continues to lose his own respect in ways both large and small, personal and professional. Crozier has endangered the crew - leading directly to Blanky losing his leg - and has spoken flippantly of the situation ("How fares the raft of the Medusa?"). In 1x04, he is clearly galled by both the disregard of due process and severity of Hickey’s punishment.  (While both are not unstandard in the Navy, Crozier’s manner makes it seem like spite as much as anything - which I’m sure Little clocked.)  Overall, Little observes him making inebriated decisions that are based as much on his internal demons as any the practicalities at hand while men continue to die under his watch. This erosion of trust will come back to haunt them all, because even when its causes have been overcome, the deep root and the effects are there. (JFJ gets to have reckonings with Crozier and say his piece in a way that Little never does or will.)

Edward Little also cares deeply about the welfare of his men, perhaps more than anything. Command is a responsibility not just to the navy but to those whose lives his decisions affect. And so he as he sees this disregard for them (and for himself) he is angry, and he is in a profession and position where one is not allowed to be angry with one's superiors. So he spends a lot of his time pretending that he is not quietly furious while carrying out orders that he knows he shouldn't be, and hiding it from everyone , even Fitzjames, because he is also, deep in his heart, loyal (even if he feels it is unearned) and married to Naval structures.  Crozier and JFJ have their reckoning, but Little never gets that, because subordinates aren’t allowed to be angry.  

This combination, the lack of trust both given and received, the anger, the care & loyalty, the necessity to fill the void in leadership, means that he asks a lot of questions . A well placed "Are you sure, sir?" can go a long way. "Yes, but--" is not a phrase that would often have been uttered to a commander by a lieutenant, but Little has not just earned but hard won the right to say it.  Every time he questions Crozier, I think it is out of a sense of duty, not defiance. A duty to the expedition, to Crozier, and above all to the men, because for so long Crozier’s judgement was not something he was able to rely on. He can’t even attend a sunrise party without thinking of the supplies that are being used up! 

To top everything off, he also never appears to be someone who is particularly congenial nor gregarious, he is very aware of his rank, and is competent while not being loved (except by me).  I like to imagine that he and Jopson and Macdonald were able to commiserate in some way as Crozier was going through his detox.  But everyone is so conscious of class & rank & secrets being guarded that it seems unlikely that anyone actually confided in each other. By getting dry and in such dramatic fashion, Crozier earns back his loyalty & respect, but by doing so in secret I wonder if he hasn't further eroded Little's relationship with the other lieutenants.  Do they even know Crozier is drying out or is Little lying to them as well as to the entire rest of the crew?  Little does not seem like a man who cares for lying, and covering up the captain's "gastritis" would only have made Little feel more cut off and burdened by the captain's confidence. (To say nothing of the fact that all of this is going on with the Tuunbaaq in the background - these lieutenants were not designed to contend with alcoholic spirits let alone the spirit world.)

 Crozier’s trust does often  end up being more burden than anything, and it’s beyond the responsibility that would normally come with his rank. That moment when he practically shoves the pistol away from him is so telling of this.  We really were robbed of the moment when Little is so angry after leaving Crozier that he can’t even slam his door: because that’s what’s building up this entire time!  

By covering for Crozier both before and during his sobering up, Little probably lost some of his authority over the crew. They know he's hiding something, and that earns some distrust. He's obviously worn out, and there must be some observation that Crozier is literally using him as an errand boy. In the best of circumstances the commanding-without-commanding is a hard line to walk while maintaining one’s own air of authority. He's also angry, and in working so hard to cover and subdue his anger, what he's left with is the "sad, wet man" that fandom has dubbed him. The crew may not know exactly what’s going on (although what do those men have to do besides gossip) but they must have sensed how Little is being worn away. As much as he cares for them, he wouldn’t fraternize - it seems like he barely fraternizes in the wardroom.  (Which is why that moment of camaraderie with Jopson outside Crozier’s cabin is so important to me personally.) 

That brings us to the mutiny.  We may love a sad, wet man, but in the face of a charismatic mutineer he's never going to match up. He doesn't have the authority, the love of the crew, or really the energy to go against it. At this point, he has no reason to know or suspect that a mutiny is what's the offing in the first place! He is someone who wants to believe the best of his men, and he's been given no reason to doubt Tozer's motives. And what was he supposed to do in the face of a marine sergeant surrounded by frightened, armed men?  They are clearly on edge and afraid, a dangerous combination.  He is practical, and although ultimately it loses him even more face by going along with Tozer, he was never going to be able to stop that in its tracks. Even JFJ wasn’t able to reel back in what had already been done.  So he chooses the pragmatic route: agree publicly to the logic, let Tozer do with him what he's been doing with Crozier, in making the subordinate's idea appear to be the superior's. With the situation and facts at hand, what else is he to do? 

The irony is that Little has been quietly looking out for all of them and their best interests for so long; but because it was so quiet, an undercurrent, when it comes down to brass tacks, none of them have ever seen that, or feel that they owe him any respect or loyalty. Tozer and Hickey appear to be men of action, and unfortunately in a moment like this a group of frightened men is going to follow the one who appears strongest. 

I also want to point out that Crozier specifically says *while the fog holds off*. Well the fog has rolled in! The situation changed! Crozier clearly has suspicions of Hickey and Tozer that he hasn't confided to Little, and whose fault is that! When it comes to investigating Irving’s and Farr’s murders, Little asks what the evidence is, which suggests to me that he has no knowledge of any concerns about Hickey that have arisen post-lashing.  Again, he is inclined to trust them.

One of the realest moments we get from him is "I'm the worst kind of sorry." It's one of the very few times he breaks from naval demeanor. The worst kind because he feels it deeply, but also because he was stuck, and he knows it, and also knows the expectations both from himself and from others that he be Better.

What it comes down to is what he says to Hodgson: "All we have are our instincts and training. If both told you to proceed with what you ordered, then be easy with yourself." That is all Little has had for so long. He certainly doesn’t seem to be having heart to hearts with Irving and Hodgson, let alone JFJ and Crozier; his counterpart on Erebus is long gone.  Who has he to confide in, especially at this juncture of events, when there are no clear paths and no right answers. I imagine this is what he told himself over and over in the long watches of the night.  

And yet!! Matthew McNulty has said that “Little's probably one of the most hopeful out of them all. [...] He still thinks that humanity will prevail in this dark, dark world.”  I’m not sure where to put this, but I think it’s important.  I think it’s part of why he doesn’t always quite have the authority he should: poor, worn down Edward Little sees the best and hopes for the best, and can’t quite reckon that not everyone has the same moral compass he does.  That’s why Tozer & Hickey get the best of him, because he wants to believe the best of them.  He doesn’t compromise his moral compass or belief in humanity, and unfortunately that turns into a blind spot.I think it’s also why Tozer invites him to join them: because some part of him recognizes that they both have that idealism deep down.  They are both doing their best in an inconceivable situation to cling to hope and take care of those they see as under their protection. It pains me to think what they could have accomplished had they worked together rather than against each other. 

(Incidentally, I don’t believe Little ever would have been swayed to join them, but I can’t blame him for the fact that Tozer’s claim about Crozier leaving them gave him pause.  He’s seen Crozier finally grow into a commander he can respect, but to find out that Crozier’s judgment was not just impaired for so long but extended to actively planning to abandon ship & crew, as Tozer frames, as he was working so hard to hold things together - even if he doesn’t believe it, in his heart of course there must have been some doubt.) 

All of these, the erosion of respect, the concern, the exhaustion, the lack of direction and support, the HOPE, come together in a moment for which he (unjustly, in my opinion) gets vilified for: 

We’ve slowed our pace hauling some of the ill in the boats. But if we extend this temporary camp more than a few days, we can allow the ill to rest here while the bulk of us proceed south. We can hopefully find game and trek back for the others once we have something more to offer them–

And Jopson’s anger is both understandable and not unwarranted - but. Based on that look Le Vesconte gives him, this most likely is not a thought that originated with Little.  It’s  being grumbled by those hauling, maybe even obliquely discussed by the officers.   That look says to me “It has to be said.”  And it does, the logistics are evident to everyone and that needs to be discussed.  They’re sending out hunting parties every day, sure, but in an area very close to the one they’re trekking through.  It genuinely does make practical sense to have some unencumbered, able-bodied (relatively) men go ahead quickly to what would hopefully be better hunting grounds, while the sick conserve what strength they have: those able to hunt could move quickly and bring back game, while those who are dying could do so while not being jostled about on boats on shale.  Little does not say (and, I think, would never say) that they should leave them behind entirely: only that this current system isn’t really helping anyone (and it isn’t).  He needs to make sure that Crozier has fully considered the situation, because for so long that was not the case. (Historically, in fact, they did set up a hospital camp while a smaller party moved south.)

I actually do think he says this with hope: the hope that they really will find game, that the ill do just need to rest, that he can save as many of them as possible.  He's also thinking of the practicalities and (though I may be biased) really does intend to return to the ill once they have something to actually provide them with. He doesn't say so that they can move on unencumbered, to better their own chances, he says to let them rest , to find something to offer them.  He knows the situation and the feeling in camp, and that the time has come to have the conversation. It's not even necessarily a conversation he wants to have or believes in, but it has to be had. Once it's been talked about, once Crozier has come out with not just a position but a direction (to leave supplies behind if necessary), Little is entirely on board. Shortly thereafter, when Le Vesconte suggests the exact same thing, he retorts that " Most of us are ill" (note the us - the identification with) and further responds with disgust and anger that "The Captain also ordered that we not leave any man behind. You expediently leave that out."  The Captain isn’t there; Jopson isn’t there: if Little really in any way wanted to leave anyone behind, this was his chance to order it and save himself.  

I wish we could see his decision to go with Le Vesconte even though he so clearly believes that these lesser mutineers are in the wrong; I know why we don't. I like to think that it's because he believes he's doing the best thing for all, that he knows one semi-able bodied man staying behind is not going to help anyone, and that by going south with the group he may be to able to sway them, or find game for the ill. But again - he has been put in a position where there is no right choice, and where any authority he had has been too far eroded to matter.

Regardless: we go from his vehement protestation that they must a) rescue their captain and b) not leave behind the ill to die to this:

A man completely broken, weathered almost beyond recognition, with his flesh pierced by and draped with the chains of watch fobs. That's fobs plural: they're clearly different chains, from different watches, from different men.  But in still uniform.  Because he clung to the to his identity, to hope, to grounding structure of the Navy in which he trained and believed, until the very end.

We don't know what happens in between. Is it madness? Did the mutineers do this to him?   Is it penance? A memorization of the men whose watches those were?  A punishment on himself for what happened on his watch - despite the fact that really, he was powerless to stop it? And this is the only watch he can keep now - watch chains in his face, his eyes forced open to the horrors. Or did 1st Lt. Edward Little spend so long suppressing his anger, marrying that anger to hope, being responsible, keeping confidences, bearing all that alone, with authority that is both shoved on him and disregarded - did he finally snap? Are the chains not a decoration, not a punishment, but an attempt to literally bind himself up and tack himself down to this terrible world where he’s found himself?  

All we know for certain is his last word - “Close?” Close to what? To death? To salvation?  The only comfort either Edward Little or we, the audience, will get - is that at the very end, his captain was there to release him from the duty to which he clung for so long, so fiercely, with so much hope.