#the client was only 35 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

http-tokki · 1 year ago

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need to know

~ choso kamo x fem!reader (tattoo artist choso au) ~tags/cw: tattoo artist choso, fem reader, tattoo artist au, tattoos, needles, satosugu is canon, modern au, choso has a scar over his nose instead of his markings, strangers to friend to lovers (strangers rn) tiny lil man verbal bashing cause men are weak lil babies when getting tattoos, reader is a lil chubby, choso is on antidepressants, smoking/vaping, drinking ~ wc: 2.9k ~ "Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?"

You: Wednesday 8:45pm Hi, I was just wondering if your books were still open? It says they are in your bio but in case I've missed it and they're closed, please ignore this message, sorry! :)

Kamo: Wednesday 9:23pm Hey. No, they are still open. When were you looking to book? Do you have a specific design? Or are you looking for a flash?

You: Thursday 11:36am Oh, hi, awesome! Thank you for getting back to me so quickly! I was looking to book next month, towards the end. On a weekend if that would be possible (I don't mind the time), and for the design, just a flash (design 3A) on your latest post on my upper arm, around 15-20cm. :)

You: Thursday 11:52pm Unless you think it should be smaller or somewhere else, I'm not picky! I really want something of yours tattooed on me :)

Kamo: Thursday 12:15pm Sure, no problem! I have the 24th free at 12pm. Does that work for you? The spot and size are fine, but I'll make up smaller and bigger stencils on the day in case you change your mind. The total would be $600 for the piece. However, I require a $100 deposit to secure your spot. I can send you the payment details once you confirm your interest. Please read through my FAQs on cancellation policies and further information.

You: Thursday 12:20pm 24th at 12pm is perfect! Thank you!! I'll send a deposit through now! Ahh, so excited! :)

Kamo: Thursday 1:07pm You're welcome. Here is the link x. Please send a screenshot of your payment as proof. For the rest of the amount, I accept cash only. If you have any other questions, feel free to message me. See you on the 24th.

You: Thursday 3:30pm Sending it now! Yay! Thank you so much! Super excited, see you! :)

Kamo: Thursday 4:35 pm Seen

"I sound like an idiot, don't I?" you grumble as your friend reads over your chat with a tattoo artist.

You watch your friend tilt their glasses down, squinting at the screen as their mouth curls into a grimace. They try to hide it with a sniffle, disguising their obvious disgust over your intense enthusiasm.

"Not an idiot," they hand the phone back to you, a frown set in the crooked way it always did when they were uncomfortable. "Just really, really eager, which can be cute if you like that."

Choso is growing tired.

At what? There are too many contributing factors to the headache that had begun blooming his eyes five minutes after stepping into the studio to pinpoint the main culprit of his budding exhaustion. Maybe it was the late night/early morning combo, or perhaps it was the horrific lack of water and food he hadn't consumed in the last twenty-four hours. When was the last time he had taken his medication? Choso begins to run through the previous days in an attempt to remember when he had even glanced at the Zoloft sheet sitting in the bottom drawer of his trolley, but his attention is diverted from his lack of self-care to the man sitting in his tattoo chair.

It is coming up on the two-hour mark since his client walked in. With a brazen attitude that could rival a Greek god, the man had outlined what had to be the simplest fucking tattoo known to man. Choso had rolled his eyes at the frankly impressive and thorough drawing done by the twenty-something gym bro before shifting the paper off to his younger brother.

"Come on, it's easy! An hour tops, and then you've got like two fifty in your hand! You technically owe me an observation session, and this can be it." Yuji had gripped his brother's sleeve, tugging on it the way he used to when they were kids.

Taking in his younger half-brother as his apprentice was a good idea in theory. The two lived and worked together, so there was ample time for obvs and practice, but today was already busy, and Choso was feeling like complete and utter shit.

"Yuji, I don't want to do this. I have a client coming in at twelve for a full session, and I've got this headache and-"

"It's easy money, come on! Please." it technically was easy money. The design was a small band wrapped around the bicep, with no adornments or script, just a flat black line; it was the client himself that made Choso apprehensive.

"Fine." Choso sighed, and Yuji almost jumped into the air in excitement. "You prep and clean him; I'm not doing anything but the actual tattoo."

Yuji nodded eagerly and just about ran into the front room to confirm the walk-in appointment.

That was almost two hours ago, and Choso is still here, finishing up the outlines of the band on a guy twice his size but carrying on like a toddler. Each touch of the needle on skin had the man flinching and hissing through his teeth, and there is only so much Choso could take.

Choso eyes the clock nervously, his next appointment slot ticking closer but the second. There isn't going to be enough time to get out and grab a coffee or snack from the corner store. After another quick glance at the amount of work before him, Choso calls it fifteen minutes to twelve and clicks off the tattoo gun with a disappointed sigh.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but we might have to split this into two sessions."

He looks back over at this current client, who is sweating profusely. It takes everything in him to scowl in disgust at the once brazen man before him, but not the look on his client's face; Choso knows some form of repugnance had slipped through his composure.

"Yeah, sure, man, no sweat," the client replies, relief blatant in his sigh. "Sorry for taking so many breaks. I've got a weak pain tolerance."

That makes Choso feel a little bad.

"You're fine. I've just got a pre-booked client coming in like ten and need to set up." A little lie to hurry the man up.

Hope is so close. So attainable that Choso can almost feel the sun on his face, but the shop bells slice through any dream of a break.

"Hi, I'm here for my twelve with Kamo?"

Choso slouches, attention now on the conversation happening in the front room. It's not even twelve yet! Why would she be here so early?

"Yep! We've got you down for twelve, but Choso's still with someone, so if you wanna wait here, that's okay!" Yuji giggles in response.

"Ohh, I'm just here to ask if umm…Choso wanted a coffee or anything?" his name is a question on her tongue. "I'm going to go get one and wanted to ask if anyone wanted anything so you don't have to wait in line."

That's nice. Choso thinks and leans back on his chair, attempting to glimpse his new client, who has Yuji giggling at every word.

"I was just about to step out to get coffee so I can come with you, but I can get Cho's; you don't need to pay for him." Another giggle. God, his younger brother is shameless.

"That's okay! I can get them; just write your orders down so I don't forget!" the girl insists.

"Ohh, but-"disappointment fills Yuji's voice.

"Yuji, can you come here please!" Choso shouts down the hall, pulling his brother away from his new crush.

Yuji groans, then the shop bells ring again, and then the sound of footsteps shuffles down the hall.

"Yes?"

"Can you wrap him up and finish the payment? I need a smoke." Choso rolled back from the bed, handing over the second skin he has yet to unwrap.

Choso's brother sighs but offers the male client a friendly smile, sits down in the now vacant rollaway stool, and begins to prep the skin for wrap-up.

"I'll be back in five; if anyone needs me, tell them to wait." Choso grumbles the last part and offers a stiff wave to his current client before disappearing into the hall.

The knots in Choso's shoulder have been building for days now, and no amount of rolling or stretching seems to relieve the tension in his muscles, but it is nice to stretch and feel the blood move around him again. Heavy boots echo through the small shop as he stalks to the front desk, floorboards creaking under the weight of thick rubber soles. His fingers slip into his back pocket to reach for the small pack of menthols hastily shoved down after the abrupt end of his morning break.

Stepping out into the world, Choso is blinded by the sun. Having forgotten about the passage of time while being stuck indoors all day, he now stands stunned in the small alcove of the shop's entrance. The sun nears the centre of the sky, beating down the world in a heat never seen before. It wasn't even the beginning of summer, and the sweltering days were breaking temperature records. Choso shields his eyes with a hand, and even then, his vision is blurred as his retinas adjust.

The street is quiet; an abnormal silence had fallen over the usually busy road, but with the rising blistering temps, he suspects people aren't willing to brave the heat to shop or eat. Choso finds the familiar recess in the wall, a door had been there years ago but has long since been boarded up and now acts as refuge for him and his brother. Through any weather, time of day or season, the small alcove is a sanctuary for tired and burnt-out artists needing a second away from the constant buzz of tattoo guns.

Choso scans the few open cafes and bars for his mystery client. Mainly office workers on lunch break and mothers with strollers waiting for the afternoon pick up; he can't see anyone that fits the image he had concocted in his mind on the short walk over until he spots a girl standing in line across the way. The tattoos that adorn her legs are what Choso notices first. Patchwork pieces from different artists in black and white with pops of colour here and there, but for the most part are monochromatic, all spaced far enough to be their own pieces but not so much that they seem gap-y. He is impressed at the choice, knowing that when getting patchwork pieces, they are usually slapped in any available location, but from what he can see, every piece flowed into each other and told a story against her skin. Her arms are equally as covered, though with more room, and he is eager to see the works up close. A flash of pink catches his attention, and he narrows his attention on the pink My Melody backpack that she swings at her side, pink wallet clutched in her free hand as she shifts her weight from her toes to her heels. Choso smirks at the bag and finds himself willing her to turn so he can see the face of the girl who we had been staring at for the past five minutes.

He is staring and he needs to stop before he gets caught. Shifting his attention from the random woman, he fishes out his phone and focuses on the seemingly endless DMs and texts stacked on the lock screen. Sometimes, he wonders if he really should have gone into a career where his livelihood relied on communicating with strangers. With expert precision and one hand, he pulls a cigarette from the crumpled packet and slips the filter between his teeth. Biting down the filter, the taste of menthol fills his mouth, and relief floods his veins before settling in the deep groves of his brain. The cigarette isn't even lit yet, but his nervous system knows that the taste of mint will soon be followed by nicotine, and all will be well for a few minutes. Breaking the habit of smoking has been on Choso's New Year's resolution lists for the past three years, but he only ever lasts a few weeks before turning back to the comfort of those overpriced joints. Maybe next year will be the year. Choso digs through his pockets, fingers grasping for the lighter he keeps in his right pant pocket, but there is nothing. Maybe the other side? Still nothing. Third pocket? Fourth pocket? Nada. Zilch. Zero. Fuck.

There isn't enough time to go back inside to search for matches, and he had already popped the filter and doesn't want to waste the smoke, but it would get gross sitting in the packet- his headache grew.

"Choso?" a soft voice asks from above.

Choso looks up from his lap and is greeted by the most stunning woman he has ever seen. Breathing is no longer automatic as he stares at you, and when his lungs start to contract almost painfully, he realises and takes in an all too obvious breath.

It wasn't fair to look like that. With the sun illuminating your silhouette, cradling you in an angelic aura that has Choso debating on whether he should get on his knees and pray to you, but too much time has passed since you spoke and he acknowledged you that he has to say something, but all he can manage is a muffled yeah?

"I'm your twelve, but you look like you need a light?" you hold out a bright pink light between pretty pink manicured fingers.

Choso offers a tight-lipped smile to prevent the cigarette from falling from his mouth and takes the lighter, flicking it to life. "Thanks, I owe ya."

He holds the flame to the tobacco, and only when it glows bright does he pull the disposable away.

"It didn't cost me anything, so nothing to owe."

There is a beat of silence as you throw the light back into your bag before bending down to pick up the coffee you had set at your feet. "Also, a coffee." another offer towards him.

"The guy at the desk gave me your order, and I always buy my artists something before a session. I'm not hitting on you."

Your admission of this not being a move stirs something in him. Choso accepts the cold cup with a soft thank you, angling his hand away from yours, careful not to burn you with the lit smoke.

"I'll meet you inside. Give you a moment to yourself." you nod towards the door of the studio, feet already turning to start walking towards the entrance.

He watches you walk away, a smile creeping on his face despite not knowing why. You're as cute from the front as you are from the back, and he's glad the girl he had seen in the coffee shop is you. Soft curves make up your figure, dipping at your waist before filling out again over your bust. Choso feels his stomach twist in that familiar feeling, but he can't think of you like that; you're a client and nothing more. There is a mesmerising way in which you walk that has Choso unable to look away, and even when you've stepped into the studio, his gaze lingers on the empty space you once stood in until the rancid taste of burnt filter fills his mouth. Never in his life has he been as thankful for coffee as he is in that moment when burnt paper fills his senses. Taking a big gulp of the sweet but still bitter drink, it takes everything in him not to spit in the street, but he was raised better than that and will wait until he is in the small bathroom to spit up the gross contents.

When Choso returns, you are sitting on the small couch in the waiting room, filling out consent forms. Head down as you read the number of your ID and scribe it down in the open line; he walks past you, suddenly horrified by his heavy choice of shoe. The thick thud of the rubber soles on the hardwood has you lifting your head and smiling at your artist. Choso feels his stomach flip.

"So," Choso starts, but the smoke still in his throat chokes the word. He clears his throat and restarts his sentence. "So, do you smoke, or do you just carry the lighter?"

"My best friend smokes, so I just carry it 'cause you never know when you're gonna need a light." Your laugh is contained, almost forced, as if the interaction you are having is uncomfortable for you. Had he done something wrong?

"Ohh." Is his only reply as you return to the balanced folder on your lap.

Another moment of silence before Choso steps towards the hall. "I'll let Yuji check you in, and then just come in when you're ready." Had he already made you that uncomfortable in the two minutes you had spoken outside? Choso takes a deep breath as he steps into his space and suddenly wishes the whiney baby was the one getting tattooed.

You: Saturday 12:05pm Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:06pm suck his dick? ik guys like that :P

You: Saturday 12:06pm Idk what I expected from you. I need actual advice, please Saturo. U owe me!

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:07pm ooh first name, you're kinda scary. Okay, here is what you do. You act like a normal human and then flirt a lil and suss out if he's into it and then ask him out to drinks?

You: Saturday 12:08pm That works if I KNEW HOW TO FLIRT. Ugh im screwed, he's so fine fuck

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:09pm eww, you're getting ur jizz all over the screen. just breathe and be normal okay, pretend he's me.

You: Saturday 12:10pm Ignoring the first comment. Im gonna sneak a pic and show u BRO YOU NEED TO SEE HIM

Number ONE best friend: 12:10pm creepy but okeeeeyyy. Sugu also says to breathe and be normal but to ignore anything you think I would do

You: Saturday 12:11pm Thanks, Suguru, please kill him for me, ill talk to u guys in a bit

Number ONE best friend: good luck bestie 8======D

a/n: okay so there is going to be a part two but I'm not sure when, please give me feedback if you want it or want me to stop, put the laptop down and go outside lmao lil texting format, lemme know how y'all feel about that

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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Dirty Work 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: ah, we arrive at the Odinson stronghold.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Remember the rules, pet," Mr. Laufeyson reminds you as you pass beneath an iron archway covered in ivy and roses.

"Yes..." your voice trails off as your mouth falls open in awe.

It's a fairytale. Even more beautiful than his own garden. There's a fountain at the center of the long drive, round hedges framing it and mosaic stone all around. Petals flutter on bushes and grass sprawls all around, marble statues and stone benches speckled over the expanse. The house is built of white brick with figures of sprites and elk along the facade.

"...Mr. Laufeyson," you finish breathily.

"Yes, it is rather marvelous," he says without genuine reverence. "I assume mother will be using it as her venue for Walpurgisnacht, however, she may just as easily book the banquet hall in the next city."

"Oh," you utter.

"Not to worry, she will likely have much sorted out already. It's why I wonder at her insistence that you accompany me. She is ever decisive and much prefers doing things by her own hand," he steers around the curve of the drive and stops just before the steps. "Suppose we must take it in stride."

He flips the engine and it quiets. Birds cheep and insects hum just outside. He unclicks his seatbelt and you mirror him, climbing out just a hair after he does. You turn to gape up at the facade once more as you shut the door gently.

Mr. Laufeyson comes around and heaves, "well, then--"

"Should I get the bags?"

"Don't bother, the help will deal with it," he assures and points you ahead.

He walks beside you, stretching his neck as he pushes his head side to side. He extends his fingers and rolls his shoulders. Still the tension nestles once more in his posture. You take the steps one at a time and fall a pace behind him. He marches ahead to the doors and waits for you to catch up before he pulls it open.

You step inside and quickly slip off your shoes as you eye the shining floor. It's just as immaculate, if not more, than his estate. You try to imagine how long it would take you to clean it on your own. Maybe that's why you're here.

"Darlings," Frigga trills as she appears in an archway to your left, "oh, you have arrived."

She goes to you first and kisses both your cheeks, barely glancing off your chin. Then she turns to Laufeyson and cradles his cheeks as she admires him, "I'm so happy you came."

"Mmm, and father knows we were invited?"

"Of course," she tuts as she draws away from him, "tell me, have you eaten? You were on the road such a long time. I have cucumber sandwiches and some iced berry tea."

"I'm not hungry," Laufeyson mutters as he peers around, almost expectantly.

"What about you, hon?" She takes your hand.

"Um, I..." you look to Laufeyson for your answer but your stomach growls before you can answer.

"Feed her," he says as he flutters his fingers, "get her settled. I think I can keep myself entertained."

You frown guiltily. You didn't mean to disobey him. His eyes dull with that unimpressed haze as he turns on his heel and strides away.

"I believe your brother is outside," she calls after him.

"Thank you for warning me," Laufeyson as he scoffs and disappears through another doorway.

"Ugh, boys," she chides, "pray you only ever have one son, though a brood is never a bad thing."

She turns, her hand still around yours as she drags you through the gilded archway. You let her as you drink in the beauty around every corner and crevice. This is like a dream. You've never seen anything like it. Not outside movies. You remember that one you watched on cable with Anne Hathaway. You only saw half before your father shut it off.

"Please sit," she takes you to the long white island and gestures to a tall velvet stool, "Loki didn't say if you were coming or not. I'm so happy you did."

She releases you and goes to the other counter, takes a scalloped plate and fills it with all sorts of food from platters. She brings it to you and watches you across the narrow island. "So, tomorrow, I must look at flowers. We have a healthy supply in the greenhouse but I think a few exotic breeds would do well. Then we will go to the bakery to arrange desserts and the like. Oh, the winery may need to wait until Sunday..."

She tallies off her to-dos as you nod along. Her own long list jumbles with your own in your head. You blink at her as she prattles on.

"Darling, please eat," she interrupts herself, "anyhow, as I was saying, perhaps we could make a special day of it. A day at the winery then the spa."

You nibble on the corner of the cucumber sandwich, grateful for the excuse not to respond. You doubt she'd hear you if you did. Your stomach roars in delight as you feed it, only then realising how hungry you truly are. You weren't very concerned with your appetite as the motion of the car roiled your stomach but now, you're ravenous.

Your mind wanders back to the long drive. You turn your gaze away, afraid Frigga might see your thoughts. The same sets in as the memory sinks in your brain. You can't believe you did that to him. While he was driving, too.

"Oh, goodness me, you must be so tired and hear I am blabbing your ear off," she clucks, "I forgot the tea... unless you prefer wine."

"Tea," you answer abruptly, recalling the last time you drank. You won't give Mr. Laufeyson any reason for distaste. "Thank you."

"Aw, so polite, dear," she preens, "are you excited for Walpurgisnacht?"

You twist your lips and swallow a mouthful, "um, sure... what is it?"

"My, I didn't even think," she pours a glass of deep red iced tea into a tall glass. She nears you again and places it by your plate. "May Eve. It's a celebration of Springtime, to embrace love and fertility."

"Mm, oh," you furrow your brow. That's odd.

"Yes, we will have many visitors to help us celebrate. And some games too. Mostly drinking and food, as is our way," she explains, "I can't believe this will be your first Walpurgisnacht! How delightful."

You nod and take another bite. It's almost nice how she assumes most things aren't a first for you. How she treats you like somehow you belong here.

"I didn't even think," she taps her manicured finger on the marble, "I should've invited your father. I know he's sick but it is always good to have family close."

You almost choke. You gulp and lower your eyes. You reach for the tea to wash away the sudden bitter taste on your tongue.

"Oh, I hope... I hope he is okay," she says.

"He's... he's fine," you sniff, "he's... mad at me. We aren't... we aren't speaking."

"How tragic," she touches her chest, "Loki didn't say a word. Well, then... dear, are you alright? Where are you staying?"

Your chest sinks. Of course, he wouldn't talk to her about you and explain everything that's gone rotten. You are still just the house manager to her.

"Mr. Laufeyson kindly offered--"

"Oh, I know, I know he would," she sounds ready to cry, "my son can be so caring. It's a pity he holds it in."

"Yeah, uh, it's very nice of him," you pick away a stip of crust.

"I didn't mean to bring up sour grapes," she says, "I'm sure everything will be alright. These things happen. Families fight but they always come back together. Gosh, if only you knew the state Loki left in last time. He and his father had such a row. Not to mention he wouldn't even speak with his own brother for well over a year. Stubborn."

You look at her in surprise. It's not that Laufeyson isn't cold and distant, it's just that you didn't expect all that information dumped on you. You want to ask why but know better than that.

"I only hope things go better this time," she says.

You nod and pick up a grape from the plate. You really hope so too. As long as you follow the rules, it should.

✨

After you eat, Frigga takes you on a tour of the immense house. You don’t remember where most things are as you remain astonished by the grandeur. You can barely imagine spending the night. The thought that she lives here every day is astounding. She is the luckiest woman in the world.

She takes you up the wide staircase with its curved banisters and shows you the upper floor. You yawn behind your hand, caught as she peeks back at you. You drop your hand and smile, flicking your eyes as you try to seem more awake.

“Oh dear, are you tired?” She preens, “let us show you your room.”

“It’s okay–”

“Rest is important, and a part of Walpurgisnacht. It’s about renewal so you must take care,” she reproaches, “I made up a room just for you.”

“You did?” You murmur as she waves you ahead.

“Oh, yes, of course, like I said, I’ve been looking forward to this very much,” she chimes, “just here,” she opens the left side of a double door. You admire the patterns carved beneath the layer of champagne-tinted paint. “I believe the staff will have brought your bags already.”

“Um, thank you,” you smile nervously, “it’s all very wonderful…” You gaze around the room, “it’s too much.”

“Not at all,” she touches your arm gently, “I know my son can be a stickler, whoever knows where he got that from. You are here to enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” you rub your palms together, “for everything. It’s so nice.”

“Certainly dear,” she touches your cheek gently, “should you need anything, you can tap this button.” She points to a tiny silver button by the light switch, “Hilde will be around.”

“Hilde,” you nod, “okay. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you are so sweet,” she preens, “please don’t hesitate to ask for anything.” She squeezes your shoulder, “please make yourself at home.”

She leaves you with a gentle click of the door. You hesitate at the threshold, terrified of tainting the perfection of the room. There’s a four-postered bed, the sort you dreamed about as a girl, with a white frame and bedding in the same hue, trimmed in silver. The night tables have curled feet and a matching wardrobe stands against the wall.

There’s a vase of flowers arranged on the vanity and a rug with dainty roses patterned on it beneath the foot of the bed. Each piece matches the next, gilded in silver, with a touch of colour here and there. The windows are tall and open, letting in the last of the morning hues. You are overwhelmed with the sheer beauty of this place.

Your luggage stands beside the bed. Just yours. Does that mean you’ll be sleeping alone? Perhaps that is for the better. It wouldn’t be seemly for Mr. Laufeyson to be commingling so closely with his house manager.

You should find him and let him know which room is yours. You go to the door and stop yourself. It feels wrong to go off roving through the house. No, you should stay and listen. You’re certain he wouldn’t be far from you. That only makes sense, doesn’t it?

You linger by the door, ear to the crack between the doors as you listen to the house. Nothing more than a distance scuff here or there. Not until you hear hinges catch for just a moment. You hold your breath and try to see between the doors but can’t.

Footsteps, long and deliberate. That has to be Laufeyson, right? You hope that it is. You wait for them to pass before you open the door and peek out. Oh no! It’s not Mr. Laufeyson.

Before you can retreat and hide, the gray-haired man stops. He has broad shoulders and his arms are bent behind him, one hand balled in another. You gulp and slowly pull back but it’s too late as the man pivots on his heel.

“I suppose my son told you it was best to avoid me,” the man says, his tone rigid but not unkind.

“Um,” you let go of the door and step up, slumping your shoulders as you stare at his suede slippers. “No, sir, I only… thought you were Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he scoffs, “you must be the one my wife spoke so highly of.”

“Sir,” you dip your head lower.

“Odin,” he offers as he comes closer, little by little, as if approaching a skittish deer, “father of Mr. Laufeyson,” he snorts and offers his hand, “and your name?”

You accept his hand meekly and mutter your name. He grips you firmly, warmly and gives a short shake. He keeps a hold of your hand and turns it, placing his other hand over your knuckles.

“Let me have a look at you,” he urges you into the hall, “my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

You let him lead you further out. You bite your lip and exhale. You unpinch your teeth and lift your head. You look at him, squirming as he considers you. His steely hair is brushed back from his face and small coils gather behind his ears and neck. His eyes are blue and vibrant, like Thor’s, and his face is creased with and determination.

“Now,” he smiles, “how did my son capture a lovely creature like you?”

“Sir?”

“Please, Odin will do nicely,” he pats your hand, “may I use your name?”

“Yes, s– Yes, Odin,” you correct yourself.

“Wonderful, it’s a beautiful name,” he brings your hand up and kisses it, “it fits you well.”

He finally lets you go and you feel your cheek burn. You don’t know how to react. With everything you heard, you expected a horrible, grumpy old man. Someone like your own father. Yet, he’s just as pleasant as Frigga.

“Thank you,” your lips curve just a little.

“Polite little thing,” he muses, “do you like chocolate?”

“Pardon?” You’re taken aback by his question.

“Chocolate,” he repeats, “Loki hasn’t much of a sweet tooth and the other one would devour them all. I’ve got some truffles, would you like one?”

“Well, I… er,” you rub your neck, “I wouldn’t want to bother,” you stammer.

“Bother? Why ever would I ask if it was?” He dismisses, “you are my guest, I do prefer to know those who are staying under my roof. I would be a shit guest otherwise.”

You scrunch your lips up at his profanity. He notices the wince and he chuckles, bring his fingertips to his chin, “excuse my language.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “um, sure, I will have some chocolate… Odin.”

“Ah, wonderful, just this way,” he points you towards the other end of the hall, “this is part of the trap you see,” he says as he ushers you along, “I keep them in my office.”

He laughs and you join in thinly. You’re not sure he’s entirely kidding. He shows you into his office. The decor is wrought in gold and oak. It reminds you a little of Laufeyson’s study in the style, but not the colours.

“You will have your chocolate,” he assures as he closes the door, “but first, you will tell me how you ended up with that son of mine.” He strides around the desk as you hover across from him. He pulls out a drawer as you clasp your hands tight. You can’t tell him everything.

“How…” you utter.

“Yes,” he pulls out a square red box, “he hardly seems your type.”

“Oh, well, I am only his house manager,” you shrug.

“Sure, if that’s what he tells you to say, say it,” he tuts, “but it doesn’t mean I must believe it.”

You drop your head and frown. You’re a poor liar but you don’t dare tell the truth. He sighs and you peek up from under your lashes.

“Not to worry, I keep a promise,” he comes around and offers the open box of truffles, “this one is dark with raspberry, you might like it? Or this one, strawberry and cream,” he points to a dark bulb, then a white one sprinkled with pink sugar, “perhaps you will surprise me.”

You shyly reach for the box and pick out the plainest of the bunch. You thank him quietly and stare at the treat. He knows you’re lying and he’s still being kind. You wish you could tell him the truth, maybe he could help you understand it. Yet, the thought of saying it all out loud suffocates you in flames.

“Crushed toffee,” he says, “my favourite.”

“Oh, uh,” you hold it out.

“No, no, you have it,” he insists as he strolls back around his desk, “I am hardly interested in talking about my son, so let us not dwell on him. Tell me about you.”

“Me?” You blink.

“Yes. Do you read? Do you enjoy music? What are your favourites?”

You stand there, holding the truffle, speechless. You don’t know what to say. You are boring. No one ever cared about any of those things, so much so, that you never much thought of them yourself.

“Please, sit,” he takes his own advice and lowers himself into the leather chair, “enjoy your chocolate, then you may answer my questions.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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morbidology · 3 months ago

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On June 4, 1991, a security guard at the Super 8 Motel on Central Avenue, Albuquerque, New Mexico, made a grim discovery. When a female guest failed to check out at the designated time, the guard entered the room using a screwdriver after finding the door locked from the inside. Inside, he found the lifeless body of a young woman hanging from a metal showerhead by a suitcase strap.

The room was orderly, with no signs of a struggle, and the windows were securely locked from the inside. The woman had been dead for some time, as indicated by the advanced state of decomposition accelerated by the June heat and lack of air conditioning.

The woman, later referred to as "Becca" by investigators, was estimated to be between 25 and 35 years old, standing about 5’7″ tall and weighing approximately 140 pounds. She had curly red hair, likely permed, pale skin, and freckles. She was dressed in a pink and white tie-dye swirl shirt, white denim pants, 3-inch silver hoop earrings, and medium bikini underwear. The only photograph found in the room depicted her with an unidentified man, offering the sole visual clue to her identity.

Becca had checked into the motel two days earlier with a Hispanic man who signed the check-in slip as "Eduardo Colin" and provided a false license plate number. While the staff confirmed that the woman in the photo was indeed the deceased, the man who had accompanied her had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a few beer bottles, a blue suede purse, some women’s clothing, a scale with the name "George Martinez" scrawled on it, and $500 in cash.

The scene was perplexing. There was no evidence of foul play; the room was undisturbed, and the cause of death was officially ruled a suicide by hanging. An autopsy revealed a significant amount of heroin in her system, though she had not overdosed—a finding consistent with the high tolerance often seen in heroin addicts. Despite the heroin in her system, there were no signs of a struggle or external trauma, save for some light abrasions on her face and leg, which were healing at the time of her death.

As the investigation unfolded, speculation grew. The strong suspicion was that "Becca" might have been a sex worker, and that "Eduardo Colin" could have been a client. They may have checked into the motel for drugs and sex, after which he left, and she, perhaps overcome with despair, took her own life. Another theory was that he had killed her and then staged the scene.

A tip later emerged suggesting that the woman was named Rebecca or "Becca," and that she was from Reseda or Sylmar, California. It was also suggested that she had flown to Albuquerque from Los Angeles or Burbank shortly before her death. Despite these leads, she has yet to be positively identified.

Efforts to trace "Eduardo Colin" eventually led police to a man by that name, who had lived in Albuquerque and worked as a truck driver. However, by the time they found him, he had already passed away from natural causes. When shown the photo of Becca and the unidentified man, Colin's family denied knowing either individual and insisted the handwriting on the check-in slip did not match his. This raised doubts about whether the man who checked in with Becca was actually Colin or if he had used a stolen identity.

The true identity of Becca still remains a mystery today.

#Jane Doe #True Crime #Mystery #Bizarre #Unsolved

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applestorms · 14 days ago

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@jessaerys ok shit this took a while but WHATEVER. wammy's lore collection here we go :3c less analysis this time, this is mostly just to archive the main known details we have in canon about the house, and also the people from there more generally. however much you wanna accept all this/take it at face value is up to You, Dear Reader (and tbh y'all should just read all these if ur curious since they're all pretty short + have Interesting narrators. i'll include links to free versions). do whatever you want forever etc. etc. also, SPOILERS. obviously.

LABB: (listen here)

no this book isn't written by ohba. yes i'm including it. shush. anyways, most of the lore in this comes from mello's vague comments about beyond's backstory, but there's a Lot of interesting things established in this, so. here's a bunch of notable quotes. if you're not already familiar, please keep in mind that the narrator of this novel is mello, writing at some point shortly before his death.

"L. The century's greatest detective. In light of his staggering mental abilities, L died an unjust and untimely death. In the public record alone he solved over 3,500 difficult crimes, and sent three times that number of degenerates to prison. He wielded incredible power, was able to mobilize every investigative bureau in the entire world, and was applauded generously for his efforts. And during it all, he never showed his face." (pg. 10)

"So, what you're reading now are my notes about L. It's a dying message, not from me, and not directed at the world. The person who will most likely read this first will probably be that big-headed twit Near. But if that's the case, I will not tell him to shred or burn these pages. If it causes him pain to discover that I knew things about L that he did not, then that's fine." (pg. 10-11)

"I am one of the few people who ever met L as L. When and how I met him...this is the single most valuable memory I have, and I will not write it here, but on that occasion L related to me three stories of his exploits, and the episode involving Beyond Birthday was one of these." (pg. 11)

"Obviously, it never came to light that L--and more importantly, Wammy's House, which raised me until I was fifteen--was deeply connected to the matter, but in fact, they were. L, on principle, never got involved in a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake, and this is the real reason why he belatedly, but aggressively, involved himself in this little case, which only ever had three or four victims. I will explain further in the pages that follow, but for this reason, the case of the Los Angeles BB murders is a watershed event for L, for me, and even for Kira. It was a monumental event for all of us. Why? Because this is the case where L first introduced himself as Ryuzaki." (pg. 11)

"For any one else but those two [Near and Kira], my identity may be of no interest, but I am the old world's runner-up, the best dresser that died like a dog, Mihael Keehl. I once called myself Mello and was addressed by that name, but that was a long time ago. Good memories and nightmares." (pg. 12)

"She [Naomi Misora] briefly considered the idea that Raye Penber, or someone else, was playing a practical joke on her, but she found it hard to believe that anyone would be so bold to sign their name as such. L never revealed himself in public or in private, but Misora had heard several horror stories about what happened to detectives who tried passing themselves off as L. It was safe to say that no one would dare use his name, even in jest." (pg. 18)

"This was L, so he was undoubtedly solving several other difficult cases all at once. Cases all over the world. For him, this case was just one of many parallel investigations. How else could he maintain his reputation as the world's greatest detective? The century's greatest detective, L. The detective with no clients." (pg. 35)

"L had earned a certain degree of hostility from other detectives, and the jealous ones called him a hermit detective, or a computer detective, but neither of these is a particularly accurate representation of the truth. Naomi Misora had also tended to think of L as an armchair detective, but in fact, L was quite the opposite, a very active, aggressive individual. [swoon.] While he had absolutely no interest in social connections, he was certainly not the kind of detective to shut himself up in a dark room with the shades drawn and refuse to come out. It is now common knowledge that the three great post war detectives, L, Eraldo Coil and Danuve were all actually the same person. Certainly, anyone reading these notes is almost certain to know...though they may not know that L engaged in a war with the real Eraldo Coil, and the real Danuve, and emerged victorious, claiming their detective codes. The details of this detective war I will save for another occasion, but in addition to those three names, L possessed many other detective codes. I have no idea how many, but there were at least three digits' worth. And quite a number of those were fairly public detectives--just like, as anyone reading these notes must know, he appeared before Kira, calling himself Ryuzaki or Ryuga Hideki. Of course, Naomi Misora had no way of knowing this, but in my opinion, the name L was, for him, just one of many. He never had any direct connection to that identity, he never thought of himself as L--it was just the most famous and most powerful of the many detective codes he used during his life. The name had its uses, but lacked obscurity. L had a real name that nobody knew, and nobody will ever know, but a name which only he knew never defined him. I sometimes wonder if L himself ever knew exactly which name was written in the Death Note, which name it was that killed him. I wonder." (pg. 43-44)

"If we must discuss why L so adamantly refused to reveal himself, we can explain it very simply: doing so was dangerous. Very dangerous. While the world leaders should make efforts to ensure the safety of all the finest minds, not only for detectives, the fact is that the current societal systems do not allow for this, and L believed he had no choice but to protect his mind under his own power. By simple arithmetic, L's ability in 2002 was the equivalent of five ordinary investigative bureaus, and seven intelligence agencies (and by the time he faced off against Kira, those numbers had leapt upward several more notches). This is easy to think of as a reason to respect and admire someone, but let me say this as clearly as possible: that much ability in one human is extremely dangerous. Modern danger management techniques rely heavily on defusing risk, but his very existence was the exact opposite. In other words, if someone was planning to commit a crime, they would greatly increase their chances of getting away with it by simply killing L before they began. That was why L hid his identity. Not because he was shy, or because he never left the house. To ensure his own safety. For a detective of L's ability, self-preservation and the preservation of world peace were one and the same, and it would not be correct to describe his actions as cowardly or self-centered." (pg. 69 nice)

"So whenever L was working, he would usually have someone else as his public face--and in this particular case, the FBI agent Naomi Misora was filling that role." (pg. 70)

"Beyond Birthday had the eyes of a shinigami congenitally. It was not particularly difficult for him to track down people with the initials B.B. or find people who were fated to die on a certain day at a certain time." (pg. 94)

"Normally contact with a shinigami was a prerequisite for acquisition, but Beyond Birthday had traded nothing--he had seen through those eyes since before he could remember. He knew your name before you said it. He knew the time of death of every person he met." (pg. 94)

"You might think [the eyes] would hardly be useful without a Death Note, but that is simply not the case. The ability to see someone's remaining life is the ability to see death. Death, death, death. Beyond Birthday lived his life unceasingly reminded that all humans would eventually die. From the time he was born he knew the day his father would be attacked by a thug and die, knew the day his mother would die in a train crash. He had these eyes before he was born, which is why he called himself Beyond Birthday. Which is why a child as strange as he was taken in by our home, sweet home--Wammy's House. He was B. The second child in Wammy's House." (pg. 94-95)

"The competition between L and B. L and B's puzzle. 'If L's a genius, then B's an extreme genius. If L's a freak, then B's an extreme freak. Now it's time to get ready. There are things I must do before B can surpass L. Henh henh henh henh.' This thought was the only thing that made him laugh without needing to think about it. And those that know will recognize the laugh of the shinigami. Still grinning to himself, he faced the mirror, brushed his hair, and began applying his makeup. The reflection of himself in the mirror. Himself. As always, he could not see his own time of death. No more than he could see the death of the world." (pg. 96)

"We were raised at Wammy's House in England, in Winchester, as L's successors, as L's alternatives, but that does not mean we knew anything more about L than anyone else. Including myself, only a few of us ever met L as L, and even I knew nothing about L before he met Watari--Quillish Wammy, the genius inventor who founded Wammy's House. Nobody knows what's going on in L's head. But even so, I know how Watari felt. Looking at L's incredible talents from the perspective of an inventor--of course he wanted to make a copy, of course he wanted to create a backup. Anyone would feel the same. As I have already explained, L never appeared in public. L knew that his own death would increase the crime rate all over the world by a few dozen percentage points. But what if they could copy him? What if they could make a backup? That was us. L's children, gathered from all corners of the world.

"But even for a genius like Watari, creating a fake L was easier said than done. Even for Near and I, who were said to be the closest to L...the more we tried to be like him, the closer we got, the father away he was, like chasing a mirage. So I hardly need to tell you what it was like when Wammy's House was first founded, when he was still experimenting. The first child, A, was unable to handle the pressure of living up to L and took his own life, and the second child, Beyond Birthday, was brilliant and deviant. B stood for Backup.

"But B tried to surpass L, not become him...no, that might not be right. I have no way of knowing the inner workings of his mind. He...their generation was not like the fourth generation, with Near and I, all the children bound only to the code with the serial L. They were prototypes, never even given the L code, expected to fail. I prefer to refrain from idle speculation based on my own experiences, but, well, Beyond Birthday may have thought something like this: As long as there was L, B would never be L. As long as the original existed, the copy was always a copy." (pg. 104-105)

"The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. L.A.B.B.--L is After Beyond Birthday. This reading is why I think this name is so much closer to the killer's intentions than the Wara Ningyo Murders, or the Los Angeles Serial Locked Room Killings. I wasn't talking about the names on a purely stylistic basis. Whether Beyond Birthday had put that much thought into it I have no idea, but if he had a specific reason for choosing to commit his murders in L.A., then that is probably why. I am sure he had a much more personal obsession with L as an individual than Near or I ever did. I can understand why someone would become a criminal in order to fight against a detective, which is why I can write something like this, but even so. What did he hope to accomplish by killing unrelated people? Or perhaps B simply wanted to meet L. Then he could use the eyes of the shinigami he'd been born with and see L's real name, see when L would die. He would be able to figure out who L was. Beyond Birthday had never told anyone that he had the eyes of a shinigami, and it would not surprise me at all if he believed himself to be some kind of shinigami." (pg. 105-106)

"Beyond Birthday challenged L. And L accepted the challenge. To put it bluntly, the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases were nothing but an internal struggle, a civil war within our home, sweet home-- Wammy's House. Unfortunate for the victims that got mixed up in it, but even if Beyond Birthday had not killed them, all those victims were fated to die that day, at that time, for some other reason, so logically and morally, their deaths were unavoidable. So in the strictest sense of the word, the only one who really got mixed up in their war was Naomi Misora." (pg. 106)

"L was said to never move on a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake. The only exceptions to this were cases at difficulty level L (extremely fitting), or when L had personal reasons compelling him to get involved. The Los Angeles BB Murders were both of these. I hardly need to point out the difficulty by this stage of the story, and L was essentially fighting his own dead copy. [harsh, dude.] The current head of Wammy's House had told Quillish Wammy/Watari, who had told L about B's disappearance in May, and ever since L had been looking for him even as he solved other cases. Wammy's House only knew him as B--they did not know his real name, Beyond Birthday, so this search was near impossible, but L knew who the killer was. He had not been looking for a killer so much as he was looking for a case. L had been waiting, expecting Beyond Birthday to do something to challenge him. L could move any policeman in the world, but in this case, he could not ask anyone for help except Naomi Misora...more than likely, for this reason. I don't think L really put that much stock in honor, but everyone is embarrassed by their own sins, and nobody wants those missteps to become public knowledge. L was the goal of everyone in Wammy's House. Every one of us wanted to surpass him. To step over him. To step on him. M did, N did, and B did. M as a challenger, N as a successor. B as a criminal." (pg. 116-117)

"No matter what she did, she had no way of knowing. That this killer, Beyond Birthday, could tell someone's name and time of death just by looking at their face, that he had been born with the eyes of a shinigami--she had no way of knowing that fake names were useless with him, completely and utterly pointless. How could she have known? Even Beyond Birthday himself could not explain how he had been born with the eyes of the shinigami, how he could use them with no payment, with no arrangement. Neither Misora nor L knew why, and, obviously, neither do I. The closest thing to an explanation I can offer is that there are shinigami stupid enough to drop their notebooks in our world, so there might well be shinigami stupid enough to drop their eyes." (pg. 193-140)

"'So, Naomi Misora...' said L, wrapping up. But Misora hastily stammered, 'Um, er, L...' but then she hesitated, not sure if she should ask this or not. 'You...know the killer, right?' 'Yes, as I said. He is B.' 'I don't mean like that...I mean, he's someone you know personally?' On the 16th, L had said that he had known the killer was B, and she had sort of known ever since, but two days before, L had said something that changed her guess to conviction. Whatever you do, please catch the killer. The century's greatest detective, L, would never say that about some ordinary indiscriminate serial killer. And the way his letter was just one letter long... 'Yes,' the synthetic voice agreed." (pg. 144-145)

"'I have nothing to do with him,' L said. 'To be completely accurate, I do not even know B. He is simply someone I am aware of. But none of this affects my judgement. Certainly, I was interested in this case, and began to investigate it because I knew who the killer was. But that did not alter the way I investigated it, or the manner in which my investigation proceeded. Naomi Misora, I cannot overlook evil. I cannot forgive it. It does not matter if I know the person who commits evil or not. I am only interested in justice.'" (pg. 145)

"My great and respected predecessor, the man whose actions were a strong influence on me personally, B, B.B., Beyond Birthday--obviously, I need hardly explain again that the murders themselves were not his purpose. So what was he doing? Again, I hardly need to explain--he was challenging the man he copied, the century's greatest detective L. A matter of winning or losing. A contest." (pg. 159)

"Since L could solve every case no matter how challenging, if he created a case so difficult that L as unable to solve it, B would have defeated L." (pg. 159)

"He knew that the moment he took action Wammy's House and Watari would alert L, so he did not even bother trying to stop them. He could only guess at which stage of his plan L would start to come after him, so he prepared things carefully, ready for L's entrance at any point." (pg. 159)

"B approached Naomi Misora, calling himself Rue Ryuzaki. Rue Ryuzaki--L.L. For anyone from Wammy's House, there could be no higher goal than identifying yourself with that letter--and Beyond Birthday seized this case as his chance. even Naomi Misora knew what had happened to detectives falsely identifying themselves as L, and B was from Wammy's House, so he knew this better than anyone--so this choice suggests the strength of his decision. He never once intended to survive--had had made up his mind. He was ready." (pg. 160) [trans. note: the name "Rue" in Japanese, ルエ (ru-e), is an anagram of エル (e-ru), which is how L is pronounced.]

"Naturally, his face and fingerprints would burn as well--he had always disguised himself with heavy makeup while he was with Misora, and he never left a picture behind, so even if someone directly affiliated with Wammy's House inspected the body, they would have no idea that Rue Ryuzaki/Beyond Birthday was B from Wammy's House. He had left nothing to connect Beyond Birthday to B." (pg. 162)

"B was presenting the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases to L as a case that could never be solved. That L could never solve. In other words, he had never prepared any clear solution to it--since the killer had committed suicide, disguised as the fourth victim, there was no longer a killer to catch, and no clues left to catch him with." (pg. 163)

"My poor, poor predecessor. Not only was he utterly and completely defeated, but he survived, driving home his embarrassment...he must have longed for death. Accept my condolences, B." (pg. 169-170)

"If I had space left over I had intended to carry right on into the other two stories I heard from L: the story of the detective war between the three greatest detectives, all solving that infamous bio-terror case, with guest appearances by the last of the alphabet, the first X to the first Z from Wammy's House; and the story of how the world's greatest inventor, Quillish Wammy, aka Watari, had first met L, then about eight year's old--the case that gave birth to the century's greatest detective, the Winchester Mad Bombings that occurred just after the third World War. But however objectively I look at things, I do not have the space or the time. Oh well." (pg. 170)

"She had spoken to L only once after the killer was arrested. He thanked her for helping to solve the case, and told her just a little about the background of the case. That B had been a candidate to succeed L, and that the pressure of that had driven him off track." (pg. 171)

"And a few years after his arrest, on January 21st, 2004, serving a life sentence in a California prison, Beyond Birthday died of a mysterious heart attack." (pg. 173)

C-KIRA: (read here)

near grief :pensive: pretty sure this was animated in the anime movie thing?? tbh i still need to watch that. Very interesting as some of the most recent post-main story lore we get about wammy's imo. less quotes now + more summarizing since these are just comics

near has apparently only "talked" to L once (in quotes since he didn't actually say anything, just sat in the back of the room doing a puzzle the entire time. real asf girl)

during this "conversation," roger or one of the orphanage heads set up the usual L screen + a camera/mic so that L could see all the kids and answer their questions.

notably, mello & near didn't ask any questions, just lurked in the back watching L with a "nasty look in [their] eyes," which near assumes is what made him pick them to be his top successors, considering the fact that he didn't actually look at any of their data. (somewhat seems to imply that L didn't actually give a shit about grades or anything like that when picking his main successors?)

while answering questions, near is caught off guard by one of L's answers. to transcribe it all directly here--

NEAR (NARRATING): At the time, I didn't think L would put it so bluntly. L: It's not a sense of justice. L: Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby. If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes. L: The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles, or clear video games more quickly... For me too, its simply prolonging something I enjoy doing. L: That's why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It's not justice at all. And if it means being able to clear a case, I don't play fair, I'm a dishonest, cheating human being, who hates losing...

not quite the monster speech, but fascinating all the same. near seems to imply that this answer sent some kids into a despair spiral, but it actually caused him to like L more and more, feeling that he was, "exactly the kind of person who wanted to achieve his own goals." kinda goes against the HTR13 ohba comment? shrug

The Wammy's House/L's One Day: (read here)

honestly i interpret these comics as like. canon crack fic. but anyways, here's the established L lore included in these two.

L was taken into wammy's as a nameless orphan at an unknown but likely quite young age

very soon after arriving he beats up all the other kids he meets--

he is "utterly incompatible," with all the other kids and monopolizes all the things he likes simply cause he's stronger than them and presumably could fight them for it-- naturally, he ends up usually just playing by himself

notably, this all establishes that L isn't the first kid at wammy's, that there was already at least one generation of older kids living there before he got there (and could eventually turn it into an L successor creating machine)

once watari realizes that L has some outstanding mental abilities, he gives him his own private room and a computer. afterwards, L spends most of his time sitting in front of the puter by himself

L requests that watari buy 1 million pounds with Japanese yen and tells him which stocks to buy, causing his assets to reach "almost 20,000 times the original amount," in two years. visually this is depicted as happening when L is still quite young

several years later, L stumbles across a serial murder case in the news, which is the first he solves, starting his new career path

L can stay awake for 100+ hours and then gets over it by sleeping for like 17 hours. pictures also may imply that he doesn't actually sleep in a bed, but just lies down sideways in his chair. RIP yotsuba light's perfectly designed sleep schedule

L also shits/pisses in the same position he usually sits in (frog-pose), facing the tank south park style

he is a big fan of cleanliness!! human washing machine etc. etc. honestly i think this is just another way for him to hold that same crouched position

text says he always has, "ten or so identical sets of clothes prepared for him," since he's picky about it, but the art itself shows way more than ten. also rare shirtless L moment?? (watari helps)

L does in fact go outside!! he likes roller coasters/theme parks, swinging, art galleries, live music, etc. though most of the time he just sits in his room thinking thru shit n solving cases.

#death note #astronaut rambles #wammy's house #l lawliet #quillish wammy #mello death note #near death note #if my piracy links don't work don't come at me #you can google this shit real easy #probably shoulda included HTR13 too but that's more theoretical/controversial and also. i don't have my copy w/ me rn so.#fuck it #anyways. here is my end of year message to read/listen to LABB please god it's so fucking goooooooooood #mihael keehl #nate river #lotsa stuff i always forget in LABB glad i went thru that again #like beyond dying weeks after naomi i always thought his death was like. right at the start of KIRA. but no. sigh #also mello & near being like fourth generation wammy's?? wild #i'm kinda interpreting the generations thing as however many times they go through the alphabet now tbh #like there were three other N's before Near etc.#hmm. anyways

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years ago

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Peace & Quiet (poly!SatoSugu x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“How's this for relaxation, hm?” he teases. “Just what you needed, right?”

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you realize peace and quiet aren’t ideal with your two noisy ass (yet extremely attractive) coworkers renting out the same Airbnb as you while visiting the hot springs on a business trip. But lucky for you, they know another way to help you relax.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana Use; Truth or Dare; Skinny Dipping; Coworkers to Lovers; Poly Romance; Exhibitionism; Mutual Oral; Cum Eating; Dirty Talk; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; Unprotected PIV Sex; Mild Degradation; Clit Play; Spitroast; Creampie; Throatpie; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: In honor of JJK S2 dropping next week, I decided to give my favorite idiot duo some love. And if I'm not uploading as regularly it's cuz I'm on a cruise lol. Enjoy! -Jazz 🩷🩷🩷

Read on AO3 here!

********

You audibly sigh as you sink further into the deep depths of the comfortable, heated water.

Nothing but the sound of bubbling water and chirping birds fills the summer air around you. The shaded trees hanging above you allow you shade from the summer sun’s rays peeking through the green leaves, making the warm water feel even better when it isn’t below the bright rays of the sun.

You loop your arms over a nearby rock and lie your head against the wet surface. ‘Paradise,’ you think with a content smile.

You’ll have to thank your company again for picking such a great spot for your Airbnb. It isn’t that close to the new city you’re in, but close enough that the drive there isn’t exhausting. It’s pretty quiet and the trees surrounding the area allow you just enough privacy to tan naked if you wanted to. But you’d die before you’d do something like that.

You still can’t believe you were picked for such an amazing opportunity! You’ve always wanted to go on a business trip for your job ever since they started doing raffles. You’ve been working with your company, one of the largest corporate tech companies in Japan, for five years now, so you hoped that your boss would see your skills and work ethic to allow you the responsibility to travel.

Really, it was mostly because you were desperate to get out of your home for a while, whether it was a local trip or one overseas. You’ve heard of trips in the U.S. and some in the U.K. and only dreamed of traveling there. When your boss announced to you a month ago that you were chosen for the business trip to a local career convention for the next four days, you were ecstatic. You immediately began packing as soon as you got home.

Your boss and his team wanted to ensure that you were absolutely and completely comfortable during your stay for the remainder of your business trip. They paid for everything: the Airbnb you’ll be staying in for the next three days; the train ticket; the food stocked up in the freezer and fridge; and the prepaid Visa card loaded with $550 that will allow you to buy whatever you wish and not have to constantly put your own money down.

So far, you were living. The schedule you currently had consisted of trips to the convention center in the city from 11 PM to 3 PM to talk to potential buyers, clients, and hires about the company. After 3 PM, you were free to do whatever you wanted. Not to mention you’re being paid $35 an hour, even for the hours you weren’t working! You couldn’t have asked for a better trip. You hit the fucking jackpot.

“Yo, Geto!” a familiar voice annoyingly yells from inside the house. “Where’d the fuck you put my shorts? I told you don’t move my shit!”

You heavily sigh, annoyed. Well, you almost hit the jackpot. Take away the two inside that you’re forced to work with this week and you would’ve been perfect. “I told you, I don’t have your fuckin’ shorts, Gojo,” another voice, deeper than the other, growled. “Try lookin’ outside. You might’ve hung ‘em up.”

“Oh, no,” you groan, wishing neither one of them would come outside and ruin your “me time”. You haven’t had much time to yourself since you got here since you’ve been preparing for presentations at the convention fair and sitting in on meetings with your boss wanting to check up on you. Plus, with them constantly wandering throughout the house, you’ve been less comfortable exploring the Airbnb.

Just your luck, both of them come waltzing out of the sliding door that leads to the backyard and the home’s personal hot springs where you currently sit. “I told you they’re not– oh, look, Geto! She finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Gojo’s teasing pisses you off for some reason, but you refuse to give in and look at him. It isn’t worth it. They aren’t worth it. “C’mon, ‘Toru, leave her alone,” Geto grumbles. “You can clearly see she’s relaxing.”

“And I can hear you,” you sharply reply. “You two aren’t very discreet. Or quiet.” You slowly open your eyes to regard your two coworkers, but you instantly regret it. Though they are both extremely annoying with their loud mouths and disregard for relaxation time, what makes them even more annoying is how fucking fine they are.

First, there’s Gojo Satoru. Cocky, arrogant, and too easy-going for your liking. He is incredibly smart to have gotten the job he does (he’s in a department much higher than yours), but he barely does his work and takes lunch breaks way longer than he’s supposed to, which he also tries to get you to go on. He’s also a huge flirt. It gets annoying watching him flirt with every single girl that walks into your department from your cubicle, his charm coming off dickish to you. The guy is a slut! He knows exactly how to get a woman with his silver hair, Colgate smile, and intense blue eyes.

And then there’s Geto Suguru. He is the complete opposite of Gojo, but he is equally as arrogant and annoying. Though you’ve never seen him flirt in front of you, he comes off as a know-it-all during meetings and like he’s much better than everyone, including the higher-ups. He is just as handsome as Gojo with his long, black locks that he often wears in buns and ponytails, strong jaw, and deep, black eyes.

You’ve had the displeasure of sitting with both Gojo and Geto during meetings and working with them on a few projects throughout the years but with other people. This is the first time you’ve been assigned to work with them one-on-two. Not to mention being in the same space as them for longer than a day.

The first day you came here was manageable since you sat in a different seat than them on the train and most of the day was spent at the convention center. The night it was over, you made a beeline for your bedroom and never came back out. It was good that you did too because those two are so fucking loud. If it wasn’t them arguing, it was them playing music. If it wasn’t music, it was the TV playing too loud.

You know you can’t spend the rest of the trip like that. But them being so damn hot doesn’t make your situation any better. They’re both tall, standing at six foot something, and have their own set of muscles. While Gojo is a bit slimmer and sinewy with muscle, Geto is much thicker in terms of body mass and muscle with broad shoulders and a six-pack you could bake cookies on.

The truth is that you’re very attractive to them. How could you not be? You just adore big men! And everything about them is big to you: big hands, big feet, big everything. You’ve had to force yourself to look away from their crotches many times when you’ve caught them in their tight-ass work slacks. Even at your height in heels, they stand a head taller than you which intensely turns you on.

But you’ll never tell them that or even allude to it. You’ve watched many of your female coworkers flirt with them, give them their cake, and then get shot down later. You don’t need that kind of distraction or drama in your life. You made a vow to yourself to stay away from dating and fucking coworkers. ‘Just stick to your work,’ you’ve told yourself. ‘Just stick to your goals.’

No matter how much Gojo’s laugh makes your heart pound. No matter how badly you want to feel Geto’s big arms wrapped around you. No matter how much you want to feel their hands and lips all over your body. You can’t do it. You have too much to lose fooling around with men like them.

“Sorry to bother you,” Geto says, actually sounding sorry about it, “but Gojo just left his shorts and he won’t shut up about ‘em.” He looks mildly annoyed while Gojo is panicking. “Have you seen ‘em?” he urgently asks. “They’re Calvin Klein? Red?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em,” you deadpan, “but there is a washer machine in the basement. Maybe you left ‘em there.” Gojo whines, running his hands down his face. “They’re the only good ones I bought! The other pair is too tight on me.” You make a noise of disgust, pushing away the thought of Gojo in some tight-ass swim trunks, the outline of his bulge on display. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Geto hides a laugh while Gojo gives you a glare. “Oh, so sorry,” he mockingly says. “What are you doin’ out and about anyway? You were in your room all day before when we weren’t working.”

You glare back at him, not at all liking his tone. And mostly, because he’s right: as soon as you were done at the fair, you hid in your room, unpacked, and chowed down on the complementary snacks and wine stored in your room all afternoon. When the evening finally came, you snuck downstairs into the kitchen while Gojo and Geto played pool in the basement and grabbed yourself a slice of the pizza they ordered earlier that day, and the snacks and water bottles stored in the fridge.

“That’s none of your business,” you curtly say to him, “but I was tired. My bed was too comfortable to leave.” Gojo hums in agreement. “I feel that,” he sighs. “Whoever decided to put that mattress in my room needs either get their dick sucked or their pussy eaten.” You scoff in disgust to yourself, shaking your head at his brazenness. “By you?” Ghetto asks, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“With the right amount of whiskey is me, sure!” Gojo laughs, wiggling his silver eyebrows at him. Geto shoves him hard, earning another goofy laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” he scoffs before turning back to you still in the heated water. “Look, we’ll leave you alone so you can enjoy yourself. Gojo was supposed to help me cook dinner like he was promised he would last night.” He side-eyes his friend. “That’s why I had to order pizza.”

“I told you I was unpacking!” Gojo argues, but Geto’s fixed stare never fades. You attempt to not laugh by biting your lip, humored by their dynamic. Gojo is like the chaotic younger brother while Geto reminds you of a more dignified and mature older brother.

“Fine,” Gojo groans, craning his neck back, “but you’d better help me find these shorts. And I’m not cuttin’ no vegetables either.”

He purposely bumps Geto’s hip as he walks back into the house, keeping the sliding door open as he does. Geto turns to you, his facial expression unreadable and slightly offputting due to the fact that you can’t identify it. Why does he have to be so goddamn mysterious? “Enjoy yourself,” he says before disappearing back inside the house, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks,” you quietly say to yourself. You are now finally left alone to your own devices, which is what you wanted all along…right?

When the sound of chirping birds and rustling trees comes back to you, you decide that yes, you do want this. A few minutes after taking a long soak, you grow tired of the water and are in need of some sun. You pull yourself out of the hot springs and swipe your bikini off of the lounge chair sitting by the brink where you have your tote bag.

Making sure the guys aren’t around, you change and lay a towel out on the chair before settling down, lying back, and laying your sunglasses on your eyes. Then you reach for your MacBook Air and balance it on your knees, proceeding to get some work done in time for tomorrow. You also take a few sips of the wine you poured for yourself earlier until the entire glass is empty.

Your productivity doesn’t last for long. The sounds of nature are so peaceful and pretty and the wine is so strong that you find yourself drifting off to sleep. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, your laptop still in your lap. The sun warms your face and the water continues to bubble, serving as some amazing ambiance for you.

It is a short nap, however; one that you’re not too happy about. You are rudely awakened half an hour later by the music blasting from inside the house, the bass jumping and pounding in your ears. Irritation flares within you as you sit up, tearing the sunglasses off your face.

‘These two,’ you think, annoyed and angered. These emotions only increase when you hear Gojo’s shrill laughter over the music. Don’t they have any kind of sense or respect?

“Oh, my Gooood!” you growl, your frustration reaching astronomical heights. You toss your laptop off of you and into the seat as you get up and storm over to the house. You pound on the glass door with your hand before yanking it open, the music nearly destroying your eardrums. “Would you turn that fuckin’ shit down?!” you holler into the living room. “I’m tryin’ to fuckin’ sleep here! Goddamn!”

You’re so angry that you don’t even see Gojo and Geto’s shocked expressions as they crouch near the stereo near the TV, trying in vain to fix the volume. Before they can say anything, you slam the door shut and storm back over to your chair where you dig into your bag for your earbuds. Once you find them, you shove them in your ears, turn up the Jhene Aiko song you had paused from the train ride, and desperately try to get your sleep back.

Surprisingly enough, you do, but only because the music coming from the house is successfully cut off. You don’t realize it though because you’re knocked out. When Gojo finds you, you’re sprawled out on the lounge chair in your white bikini, mouth open and shades on. You don’t realize what he’s doing to you until you feel his hand brush your leg.

You startle awake, finding him standing above you like a handsome eclipse. You flinch at his touch, alarmed and confused. “W-What are you–”

“Relax, princess,” he chuckles. “I was just puttin’ this on you so you weren’t layin’ here in your bikini.” He nods down at the towel he placed on your body. “You never know what kind of animals or creeps are sneakin’ around here.”

He juts his chin towards the trees and brush that stretch for miles, giving way to nothing but wilderness. You realize now that you fell asleep in your bikini, completely exposed to anyone…including your coworkers. “Geto is finished dinner,” Gojo says, ignorant to your utter embarrassment as you clutch the towel to your body. “We got steak, steamed vegetables, and brown rice if you want some.”

He is shrouded in darkness, similar to the trees surrounding you as the sun sets on the summer day. The heat has subsided somewhat but the sticky humidity is still in the air. The sky above is painted with twilight and cotton candy clouds that stretch across the blue canvas. How long have you been asleep?

You are speechless, just staring at Gojo and wondering what the hell is happening. “T-That’s okay,” you softly stammer. “I’m gonna eat a little later.” He shrugs, stretching his muscled arms over his head. “Suit yourself. By the way, sorry about the music.”

You continue to stare up at him blankly. “Huh?” you dumbly ask, your mind still hazy from your nap.

He snickers at you, making you flush even more. “The music from earlier,” he clarifies. “We tried turnin’ it down, but the stereo broke. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound that mad…or be that loud.”

He adverts his eyes from yours as if he’s ashamed to look at you. It confuses you. Does he feel bad or something? While he certainly should because he ruined your relaxation time, you can’t help but feel a strange tug in your stomach at the sight of his eyes–so downtrodden and void of that usual glint in them.

“Anyway!” he exclaims, putting on a smile. “I’ll tell Geto to save you a plate.” He leaves you sitting there before you can say even say anything. Once he’s gone, you sit back in your chair and bring the towel up to your chin.

“Dammit,” you sigh, feeling guilt twist in your gut. Maybe you were a little too harsh earlier. After all, you were drinking and that heavily influences your behavior. You know you’ve been standoffish and cold to both of your coworkers this entire trip, and yet despite that, Gojo still came out to make sure you were okay and Geto still fixed you a plate. Maybe you could give some of that kindness back.

After swallowing your pride, you wrap yourself in the towel to cover your body, gather your things into your bag, and venture into the house to find your coworkers. As soon as you hear Gojo’s big ass mouth, you find them in the beautifully-decorated kitchen with its black granite counters and hardwood floors.

Geto stands at the stove with his back to you, his muscles flexing beneath his black tee, while Gojo sits at the kitchen island chomping down on his steak in his Crocs and white crop top that exposes his hard abs. You do your best to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach at the sight of them.

“Hey,” you call from the threshold of the kitchen. They instantly stop what they’re doing to look at you, looking almost shocked that you’re standing in front of them. Nervously, you fiddle with the strap to your bag. “Um…the water is really nice if you two wanna go in. I’m finished and just doin’ work if you want any room.”

Gojo practically drops his fork. “Hot springs just for us?” he excitedly says. “Fuck yes! I’ve been waiting to get a taste of this.” Geto turns and leans against the edge of the counter, revealing the apron he’s wearing. It only makes him sexier to you. “Same here. I was so exhausted after yesterday that I never got a chance to. I was hopin’ to get some time today since the fair was so early this morning.”

“Now I really have to look for these shorts,” Gojo announces before jumping out of his seat and zooming past you for the stairs. You watch him, quietly giggling to yourself. When you turn back to Geto, he’s already staring at you. “So you’re okay with us bein’ out there with you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

The question perplexes you. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask, confused. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, making your throat go dry. “Well, you just act like you don’t wanna be bothered by us. I mean, don’t get it twisted: I like alone time, too, especially in a place like this.” His words make the guilt churning in your stomach even worse. Have you been making them feel like this the entire time you’ve been here?

‘Well, of course, stupid!’ your subconscious screams at you. ‘You barely talk to them or hang out with them, even when they’re in the same room as you! What did you expect?’

You would’ve thought that them taking a hint would make you feel accomplished, but all it does is make you feel weird. And not in a good way. Realizing you’ve been silent for too long, you scramble to answer Geto. “I was gonna go to my room to make a call,” you lie. “And it’s not that I don’t wanna be bothered by you guys, but…”

Your brain does mental gymnastics trying to find a logical explanation for your behavior towards them: ‘Because I’m introverted’? ‘Because I’m shy’? ‘Because I’m sexually attracted to you both and being around you makes me wanna tear off your clothes and shove your dicks in my face?’

Gojo’s hard footsteps coming tumbling down the steps again, so hard that the hardwood steps creak. “I found my shorts!” he happily announces, presenting his red swim trunks to you and Geto. At the sight of you standing in the kitchen, his smile fades. “Uh…am I interrupting somethin’?”

Geto glances at you before looking back at his clueless friend. “Nah,” he immediately replies. “We were just talkin’ about the water. Supposedly, its minerals strip you of all the dirt in your pores.” He walks across the threshold of the kitchen to walk past you, giving you a whiff of his cologne and the spicy scent of cinnamon. It makes you clench your thighs together.

As he walks up to Geto, he gives him a smirk. “You could use a dip,” he chuckles before running out to the hot springs with Gojo right behind him, calling him all kinds of bitches and hoes. Being left alone in the house allows you to breathe and you lean against the kitchen wall, calming your pounding heart. ‘Why do they have to be so goddamn fine?’ you think in anguish.

Once you compose yourself, you take the plate Geto wrapped in foil from the stove and slink into your bedroom to eat. The food is orgasm-worthy, to say the least. The steak is the right amount of juicy and tender to your liking, the vegetables are crisp, and the rice is warm and hearty.

Geto is an incredible cook. And he’s incredibly sweet. What gets you is the fact that he saved a plate for you despite you not sparing him so much as a glance for the past two days you’ve been here. Neither one of your coworkers is half bad, you realize when you finish your dinner. Though they’re loud and chaotic, they’re also very sweet and personable.

It is this fact that gives you the courage to swallow your pride and return to the hot springs when you hear Gojo and Geto chatting and splashing about outside your window. You make sure your towel is wrapped tight around your body before you take a deep breath and venture back downstairs to the backyard.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sheer sexiness that is currently occupying the hot springs in the set of two. All you see are pecs, abs, and muscles on muscles along with a few scatterings of tattoos on tanned skin dripping with water. Gojo has a few tattoos you can see on his collarbone, neck, and lower hipbone while Geto only has one–a large, red dragon on his back that curls over his shoulder blades.

With the way the steam rises from the water to surround your coworkers, it reminds you of a raunchy romance book cover that you see in airports and grocery stores. You’re already considering this to be a bad idea with how reactive your body is to them–your heartbeat begins to accelerate; your body temperature rises; your pussy jumps excitedly.

But it’s too late to turn around and go inside when Gojo notices you standing there, a glass of wine in his hand. “Oh, and she returns!” he teases, his crystal blue eyes peering up at you from over the steam. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?” Geto, settled on the rocks with his big feet in the water, rolls his eyes. “Ignore him. You want a puff?” You then notice the blunt settled between his thumb and forefinger.

You shake your head as you slowly walk around the pool of water to the other side, as far away from them as possible. “I’m good,” you softly decline. Gojo gives you a smirk as he sips his wine. “Why? Too scared?” Geto splashes water at him with his foot. “‘Tarou,” he criticizes, “don’t be a dick.” You don’t let Geto’s teasing bother you though, simply smirking at him as you settle down on a rock. “I don’t really smoke like that. Plus, isn’t smoking prohibited here?” You slide down to stick your feet in, sighing at the warm water caressing your feet.

Gojo snickers at you, giving you a mischievous wink. “Only in the house, according to the rulebook, but they’ll never know we smoked out here.” With that said, he wanders farther into the water, softly moaning at the feeling. The sound makes your stomach flip. “Ah, shit, that feels good,” he sighs as he leans back against a nearby rock, his eyes fluttering closed. You can’t help but notice how long his lashes are.

Geto does the same, sliding down the rocks and keeping his arm up to spare his blunt. Once the water hits his body, he lets out a deep moan that lights a fire in you too. “Mmm, it sure does,” he sighs. Noticing you from across the way, he smirks at you. “You sure you don’t wanna join us? The pool is big enough for another person if you want another dip.”

The sound of another dip in the warm water sounds heavenly, especially with the ache you feel in your neck. But you shake your head, already coming up with a good excuse that doesn’t involve jumping their bones. “I got my dip already, thanks. If I get in again, I’ll fall asleep and I need to check these emails for–”

Gojo cuts you off with a groan. “That’s all you ever fuckin’ do is work!” he whines, scowling at you from across the way. You scoff, rolling your eyes at the man-child. “Not true,” you argue. “I have a life outside of work, thank you very much.” You turn away to look at the swaying trees, ignoring the flush Gojo’s scoff causes you. “Shit, you could’ve fooled me.”

Geto chuckles to himself, making you gap at him. “You think so too?” you ask, shocked. The long-haired man shrugs, puffing on his blunt. “It’s just weird to see you not behind a desk,” he chortles. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes intense. “Actually, I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you out of your work fits, now that I think about it.”

You cross your legs in the water, paranoid that he can see up your towel. “It’s a nice change though. You could use some relaxation.” You raise both brows at his gull. “Me?” you parrot incredulously. “I could use it?”

“You think nobody notices how tense you are?” Geto asks, humored. “With the way the boss works you out, I’m shocked you haven’t had a breakdown yet. Everybody talks about how good you are though.” You don’t know if he’s lying but his words make you blush regardless. "Yeah, you know your shit,” Gojo agrees, pouring himself more expensive wine. “It’s a shame you’re so uptight though.”

You gape at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Did he just…?

“I am not uptight,” you scoff, offended. “It’s not my fault I give a shit about my work and my reputation around the office.” You purse your lips at the white-haired man, judging him with your eyes. “You date much?”

You don’t know if it’s the steam creating the illusion but you believe you see Gojo blush. “She’s got you there, man,” Geto chuckles, puffing on his blunt. Gojo gives him the finger before turning back to him. “First of all, I can’t help it if my coworkers find me attractive. And second of all…are you okay?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, why?” Gojo cocks his head to the side, looking worried. “You’ve been rubbing your neck for the past five minutes. What, you thought we didn’t notice?”

You now realize that you’ve been, in fact, rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t even realize it. Quickly, you snatch your hand away. “It’s just a crick. I’m fine.” You crane your neck back in an attempt to ease the ache but that only makes it worse and you bite back a whimper of pain.

“You’re definitely not fine,” Geto replies, sounding concerned. Seeing both their eyes enveloped in concern for you makes you want to hide away. “You’re the frontman for our company!” Gojo exclaims. “You think I can stand there and talk to people?” You quirk a smile at him, deciding to be witty even when you’re in discomfort. “If you tried.”

Gojo crookedly smiles at you, making your stomach flip-flop. Goddammit. “Get in the water, Y/N,” Geto firmly says, putting his blunt up on an ashtray near the rocks. “C’mon, we don’t bite.” He, too, gives you a crooked smile that has you thinking less than holy things. “Unless you want us to,” Gojo adds, suggestively raising his brows at you.

You know that this is a very bad idea. The fact that you can’t foresee what could happen if you decide to take up their offer and soak with them is one that rubs you the wrong way. How can you be so sure that things won’t take a wrong turn if you do this?

But seeing the way your coworkers are looking at you, so worried despite being semi-naked and wet, is making you want to throw caution to the wind and say ‘fuck it’. Finally, after assessing your options, you decide. “Whatever,” you huff passively, “but only until my neck stops hurting.”

You don’t look at them as you gently climb down the rock so you don’t see the look Gojo and Geto share, calling BS on your comment. When you slide down into the water, your body immediately responds positively to the hot, bubbling water. The ache in your neck is immediately eased as are your tired muscles. “Mmm, wow,” you groan.

“Right?” Gojo chuckles in agreement, taking an empty glass from beside the wine bottle. “It feels much better at this time of day, don’t it? You want a glass?” You know you shouldn’t take the glass from him but the wine just looks too crisp and cold to refuse. And it is crisp and cold, and has hints of fresh fruit, when you take a sip. Then you are taking three, then four, then five.

Before you know it, you are gravitating faaaaar away from your original spot at the end of the hot springs pool until you’re about arm’s length away from both Gojo and Geto. The wine works quickly, making you feel warm and bold. Bold enough to side-eye the blunt that is settled in Gojo’s fingers now as smoke puffs from between his pink lips. “Actually, pass that over here,” you say before you can stop yourself. But you’re here to relax, right? Might as well do it right.

Gojo and Geto share a look of shock. “I thought you said you don’t smoke like that,” Geto says, a humorous smirk on his face as Gojo passes you the blunt.

You carefully take it between your forefinger and thumb. “I don’t, but this is the first business trip I’ve had. Might as well celebrate.” You take a short puff, letting the smoke fill your lungs, before exhaling, the tickle in your throat making you cough.

Gojo laughs as you cough and you flip him off. “Oooh, I like this side of you,” he teases. “Not that your princess-y attitude isn’t a turn-on either though.” You take another puff before passing the blunt back to Gojo.

“So you think I’m stuck up?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. Gojo shares a nervous look with Geto who just shrugs. “Not…entirely,” he carefully replies.

You gap at him, gobsmacked. So it’s true! “We’ve just never seen you really talk to anyone before, including us!” he quickly adds. “You should hear what others say about you.”

Though you don’t want to know, you hate how you care. Especially how much of that has influenced these two and their thoughts of you. “I’m not stuck up just because I don’t date coworkers,” you scoff indignantly. "I just don’t need that type of drama, especially from you two.”

Geto raises an eyebrow, not looking irked but more curious at your jab. “What does that mean?” he asks. You don’t know if it’s the weed or the wine starting to talk, but it’s fucking screaming with every bold word you utter. “It means I’ve heard a bit about you two from the women around the office. You both get around.”

The two look at each other and begin to laugh, making your body flush hot in the water. “Hey, if the opportunity comes to have some fun, I’m gonna take it,” Gojo chuckles, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “And for the record, I’ve dated coworkers that weren’t just hookups but real, genuine relationships.”

Geto nods as he passes his white-haired friend the blunt. “Same here. But you can’t stop two people from findin’ each other attractive or one not deciding to embark on a romantic relationship. Sex is just sex for some.”

You avert your gaze, not sure if you should even respond or allow yourself to partake in this convo. How’d you even get here? Geto takes your silence for a different perspective though. “You don’t agree?” he asks as he sips his wine, his pink lips now wet from the liquid in his glass. You quickly snap your eyes back up to his face. “It’s not that I don’t, but you’d might as well not date coworkers at all if all you’re lookin’ for is casual sex.”

“So you’ve never dated anyone at work before?” Geto asks, sounding shocked, smoke billowing from his lips. “Not even before workin’ for this company?” He passes you the blunt again, but you’re not sure if you should hit again. You’re already feeling light and slightly dazed from it. “No,” you answer truthfully. “That just…isn’t me. I’m way more focused on my work.”

You pass the blunt back to Gojo who passes it to Geto. “Then you need to get unfocused and relax yourself,” he encourages, smiling crookedly at you. “And I know a perfect way that isn’t just with weed. Who’s up for a game of truth or dare?” He gives you reach a mischievous smile, a gleam in his eye.

Geto stares at him in disbelief. “What are we, twelve?” he scoffs. Gojo glares at him, splashing water at him. “If you don’t wanna play, you don’t have to, dickhead,” he scoffs. “Y/N and I will happily play a game and leave you out of it. Won’t we, Y/N?”

You don’t know what it is that makes you give in. Perhaps it is the warmth of the water or the wine or the soft, almost pleading look in Geto and Gojo’s eyes trying to get you to chill. But defeatedly you do. “Fuck it,” you sigh, throwing all caution to the wind. “Let’s play a round.”

Surprisingly, your agreement influences Geto too as he places his blunt up on the ashtray. “Whatever; I guess I’ll play, too.” He leans back against a large rock, tossing one big arm over it, giving you a good look at the water cascading down his broad chest.

Geto claps excitedly. “Now it’s a party!” he excitedly cheers. “We’ll start with me and then go around. So, Geto, truth or dare?” Geto's dark eyes cut over to you through the steam rising from the water, making your heart leap. “Dare.” The white-haired hottie turns to give you a mischievous smirk. “I dare you to do one lap around this pool naked.” You and Geto blink at him dumbly. “You’re kidding,” you both say in unison. But Geto is deadass, staring his friend down and daring him to say no.

“Fuck you,” Geto growls, but gets out of the pool regardless. You watch as he does, unable to keep your eyes off of his big, wet body and muscles that ripple and flex as he moves. When he is finally out of the pool, he stands with his back to you and begins to take off his trunks. When he finally takes them down his waist, it just about causes a nosebleed when you get an eyeful of his tight yet plump and toned ass, slightly paler than the rest of his tanned body. You don’t even want to see what his dick looks like. Luckily, he keeps his hands cupped over his junk as he begins to do a lap around the pool, much to his dislike and Gojo’s amusement.

You’re unable to laugh, still staring at his ass. It’s just so plump and squeezable and– “He’s got a nice ass, right?” Gojo whispers, suddenly beside you. He stares you down with those crystal blue eyes, making your mind go blank. “It’s okay; you can look. I don’t mind sharin’ the view. You should try seein’ it every single night like me.” He gives you a wink that makes you realize what he’s saying. “Wait…are you–”

“Dating?” he finishes, chuckling at your shock. “Don’t tell him I said that. We’re still keepin’ it on the low.” This newfound information only confuses you more. So if they’re dating, are they also dating other people? Do they do so separately or together? And what about the sex? And how come this hasn’t spilled to the work departments? You’re sure there is someone at work that has been with both of them if this is the case. Sex…with both of them. The idea makes you feel strangely hot.

You’re so dissociated that you don’t even realize that Geto has gotten back into the pool…without his trunks. You find them drying on a nearby lounge chair. ‘Oh, God,’ you lament to yourself. ‘Why is this happening to me?’

“Happy now?” Geto gruffly asks his coworker…and boyfriend, apparently. “You just wanted to see my dick, probably.” Gojo just smiles and turns his attention to you. “Your turn, Y/N.” Against your better judgment, you take your glass of wine and take a sip. “Gojo, truth or dare?” you ask.

Geto gives him his signature, lazy smirk. “Dare.” You swish the wine around in your glass, thinking of a good dare that isn’t dirty or won’t make your clit jump at the sight of his body. “I dare you to…drink the hot springs water.” The white-haired hottie laughs, waving a passive hand. “What? Too scared?” you challenge, smirking at him. Gojo’s eyes widen an inch, shocked at your gall. That’s all it takes for him to crumble. After gulping, he bravely dips his head down into the water and takes a sip. Geto gags in disgust while you hysterically laugh. Poor Gojo comes up seconds later and swallows every ounce of the water, looking positively sickly afterward. “How do we taste, ‘Toru?” Geto snickers, earning a splash in the face.

“Your turn, Sugu,” you say and then flush, realizing what you just said. Geto doesn’t seem to realize it though, and if he does, he doesn’t say anything. “Y/N, truth or dare?” He asks, his deep voice like a rumble beneath the surface of your desire. “Truth,” you say, earning a scoff of pure disgust from Gojo.

“How come you don’t like us?” he bluntly asks. You blink at him, wondering if he’s joking, but he’s deadass. His fixed stare tells you so. It’s such a random question that it takes you a moment to process it. “What?”

“How come you don’t like us?” he repeats, fixing you with a very intense stare. Gojo does the same, his eyes locking with yours from across the water. “I wanna know that too, actually.” You’re frozen, unable to think, speak or move. You weren't expecting this. “You’re puttin’ me on the spot?” you scoff, irritated by Geto’s question. “What, was this a setup?” Geto scoffs as he takes a short puff of his blunt, smoke billowing from his soft, plump lips. “You set yourself up for that one, mama. So you gonna answer it or what?”

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes slits that barely move from yours. Gojo continues to stare at you, both silently and patiently waiting for you to answer. It is as if the water got ten times hotter. You don’t want to answer, but you also know that they’ll probably keep pestering you about it and remind you that this is part of the game. “No, I don’t dislike you,” you defeatedly sigh. “What gave you the impression that I don’t?” Geto is happy to enlighten you. “Well, for one, you never really wanna talk to us, you’ve barely said anything to us on this trip–”

“And you’ve been hidin’ away in your bedroom since yesterday,” Gojo adds. “I mean, my social battery can run low too, believe it or not, but we’re startin’ to think you hate our guts.” Though he says it jokingly, you can tell from the saddened look in his eyes that he means it. Guilt twists in your gut and you officially feel like the bitchiest person in the world.

“I don’t,” you say apologetically. “And I’m sorry about earlier when I yelled…and that I’ve been actin’ like a bitch. I just don’t hang with coworkers too much. It’s not my thing, like dating. I find a lot of the people I work with to be…” You trail off, searching for the right words that the alcohol and weed are making especially difficult to do.

“Annoying?” Geto offers.

“Fuckin’ insufferable?” Gojo asks. “Or maybe that’s just our department.”

You giggle softly at their comments. “No, and no. But people don’t really talk to me too much anyway because I’m, as you say, ‘uptight’.” Gojo raises a curious eyebrow at you. “And you’re okay with that?”

You stare down at the water, not wanting either of them to see the downtrodden look in your eyes. While you’d love be more social at work, you also know that this is probably for the best. “If it means I won’t have anyone backstab me and destroy my rep at work, then yeah. It’s not like I don’t have friends though, but I don’t do dating.” It sounds absolutely pathetic, but you just can’t have anyone distracting you from your work or have you get caught up in the realm of workplace drama. If that means missing out on meeting someone nice or possibly catching some dick despite every other woman in your department doing the same thing and being left out of the conversation, then so be it.

Geto hums like that is damn shame. “That’s too bad,” Gojo tuts, “because the motherfucker who manages to scoop you up would be lucky.”

If a record scratch had any place in the conversation, it would be now. As soon as your ears catch Gojo’s words, your eyes widen and your heart skips several beats. ‘Da fuck?’ you think, confused. Where the hell did that come from? And why the fuck was it so damn smooth?

You stare at Gojo who stares at you right back, completely confident and incredibly intense. “You’re lookin’ at me like you can’t believe what I just said,” he comments, cocking his head to the side. "You really don’t see how fuckin’ pretty you are? That’s a damn shame ‘cause you absolutely are.” He sips his wine like he didn’t just say those incredibly flirtatious and random ass words. Like he didn’t just make your heart pound and your stomach jump.

Your eyes flit to Geto and he’s giving you the same look that Gojo is: flirtatious; intense; extremely unfriendly. He looks like he wants to dick you down from where you’re sitting. Right then you feel the tension in the air return, but this time, it’s fueled by sexual energy and feelings unexplored and unacknowledged. Until now, that is. You grip your towel tighter to you, staring down at the water instead of your coworkers’ unyielding gazes. “Y-You’re just sayin’ that,” you laugh incredulously to yourself.

“Oh, are we?” Gojo challenges, causing you to nervously bite your lip. “Geto, truth or dare?” You don’t know why you look up, but you do, finding Geto’s eyes still targeting you. “Dare,” he replies, his voice but a deep growl. You swear your pussy turns into a goddamn heartbeat. Gojo smirks at you from behind his wine glass, a mischievous gleam in his icy blues. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You blink at him dumbly, his challenge slowly processing in your head. “W-What?” you squeak. You look to Geto, hoping he’ll be just as confused and alarmed as you, but instead, he’s still looking at you like he wants every single piece of you. “You don’t have to dare me to do that,” he softly growls.

Suddenly, faster than your mind can process it, he is standing in the water and making his way over to you, his big, muscled body on full display…including what lies down below. You nearly forgot he is completely naked now after completing Gojo’s dare.

Though you can’t see him beneath the dark surface of the water, you can see his dark happy trail and toned stomach leading down the dark patch of curls where his cock is. You picture it being long and thick, just swinging like a pendulum between his thick, three-trunk legs. His long, black hair cascades down his broad shoulders in wet waves like snakes as water droplets drip down every inch of his skin. You find yourself wanting to lick each one off.

You know you should stop this. You should call it off and get out of the water. But something inside of you–that rebellious, raging fire inside of you–stops you from moving, even as Geto is finally in front of him. Though he is close enough that you can smell his scent–like vanilla and cinnamon–and feel the warmth radiating off of him, he gives you enough space to leave if you wish or even push him away. He is still patient and considerate of how you feel.

You’ve never felt so…taken care of. That's the right term, isn’t it? You’re too stoned and tipsy to think about it.

Geto peers down at you with those violet eyes that make you feel like you’re waltzing through a field of lavender. “Are you okay with this, sweetheart?” he whispers, concern in his eyes. “Just tell us to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't want to have any part in this mess. But you find yourself silently nodding. He then cups one of his big hands against your face, making your eyes flutter closed from the pleasure his touch evokes inside of you.

And then his lips are on yours. His kiss has to be one of the best ones you’ve ever had in your life. It’s a kiss you can only find in Disney movies or storybooks: magical; tender; it sweeps you right off your feet. And yet it is so sensual and seductive, his lips seducing you with every single slow movement against yours.

Gojo takes his other hand to cup the other side of your face, holding you in place as his kiss deepens. At some point, you feel his tongue lick tantalizingly at your bottom lip, silently asking for access. You allow it to him and his tongue swirls with yours, creating sloppy, suckling sounds that make your pussy clench beneath the water. He tastes of Moscato.

Finally, he pulls away, but doesn’t stray too far from your lips. “Truth or dare?” he asks you, his voice low and breathless.

You’re breathing heavy, your mind blank and dizzy from the kiss. You almost ask him to repeat himself. “Dare,” you hear yourself answer.

Gojo presses another long, deep kiss against your lips as if you can't get enough. “I dare you to kiss Gojo,” he says in a low, lustful tone. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you turn to look at Gojo.

He is already moving in close, a hungered look in his eyes. “Shit, I’ve been waitin’ for this for years,” he exhales before his lips cover yours. While his kiss is still just as intoxicating and swoon-worthy as Geto’s, his is also rougher; wetter. He teases and plays with you, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and swirling his tongue around with yours, even sucking on it slightly.

It feels oh-so good. You find yourself grasping at Gojo’s broad shoulders, running your hands down his biceps. You feel his hands move to hold your waist, never once going under the towel, but your body tenses as if he does. Though you want to melt into this kiss and take whatever Gojo gives you, at the back of your mind, you’re still apprehensive of where this could go. You can’t believe any of this is happening.

Gojo notices this and moans disapprovingly against your lips before pulling away. “You’re so tense, babe,” he coos, concern in his blue eyes. You look down at the rippling water, hoping to gather your thoughts if you look away from him. “Is this too much?” Geto worriedly asks, his deep voice from behind you causing your heart to flutter. “Do you want us to stop?”

The fact that their concern for your comfort makes you wet––and not at all from the water at this point. Despite you currently being sandwiched between two very big and buff men who could certainly make you do whatever they wish, they don’t and you’ve never felt safer.

You also feel quite fearful of that feeling and the desire to let go. How can you be sure it won’t lead somewhere else? What if you indulge in these inhibitive desires now and regret them later? What if your coworkers find out? Then you’d be the talk of all departments.

‘Fuck it.’ The thought comes to your mind like a bat out of hell. At the moment, you don't care about anyone or anything else except for the two men occupying your space. You don’t care about anything except quenching your thirst and easing the throbbing between your legs. You don't care about tomorrow–just now.

You turn to Gojo, boldly staring into his eyes. “Did you really mean that?” you softly ask. “Have you really wanted to kiss me for years?”

Gojo’s eyes widen an inch over the random question, but he doesn’t neglect to answer you. “We both have, princess. We’ve been pining after you for a long time now.” His honesty makes your heart leap.

"We just never said anything ‘cause we figured the damage was done,” Geto explains. “You know how word gets around the workplace about employees’ personal sex lives. It’s like a locker room in that bitch.”

“And just in case you’re wondering, you’re the first coworker we’ve ever been with like…this…with,” Gojo adds. Geto side-eyes him to which Gojo grins guilty at him. “Yes, I alluded to us dating. You won’t tell anyone though, will you, sweetheart?” But you’re silent, too busy trying to understand what Gojo meant. “This?” you inquire, confused.

“What Gojo means is we’ve never shared the same partner from work,” Geto explains. “Usually, when we have sex with a coworker, it’s something we do individually and not together. If we do happen have a threesome or something like that, it’s just a hookup from the club or the bar.” The gears in your head are slowly starting to process. “So you have an open relationship?” you curiously ask.

“It’s just something that always worked for us,” Geto explains. “We agreed that we wanted to keep things lowkey for the time being, so whatever we do with the people at work stays between us and them. However, when we’re alone, it’s us and only us. But being with you has made us want different. Something real and not on the low…if that’s what you want too.”

They both stare you down, silent and patient but their eyes scream desire and tenderness. Two things you’re craving for right now. However, Geto takes your silence for discomfort. “We should stop. I don’t wanna overwhelm her or–”

“Change my mind,” you blurt. The two stare at you confusedly.

“Sorry?” Geto asks, coaxing you to repeat yourself. You’re more than happy to do so, moving closer to him as you do. “You said you never told me how you felt because of how I thought about you two ‘cause of the rumors. If you’re not what our coworkers say you are and if it’s true that you feel this way about me, then change. My. Mind.”

That is all the two need to hear. They’re on you immediately, pressing their bodies against your front and back. You are completely trapped between them, and you couldn’t be more content. Gojo’s lips move hungrily agains your neck while Geto’s mouth sucks on your neck, no doubt leaving hickies that you’ll have to cover with concealer the next morning. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he growls against your skin. “Such a fuckin’ tease. Makin’ us feel this way for so long…” His big hands begin to caress your hips and ass over your towel, causing you to moan into Gojo’s lips.

The white-haired hottie chuckles into your mouth before pulling away with a wet smack. “You’ve gotta pay for that, princess,” he teasingly whispers into your ear. “Startin’ by losin’ this thing.”

He tugs on your towel, nearly ripping it off your chest. You make a small noise of protest, your eyes flitting to the brush surrounding you. “No one’s gonna see us, darlin’,” Gojo coos in your ear. “This place is surrounded by trees. It’s only us here, baby.”

Geto’s hands slide up your hips under your towel, distracting you from your nerves. So you let them disrobe you. The towel comes off, floating away in the water, leaving your bikini to be the only thing separating you from them. Then you slowly untie the strings holding your bikini together.

You let the top fall from your chest, revealing your naked breasts to them, and then your bottoms come off, exposing your naked pussy to the water. Though they can’t see it yet, you know they have the advantage of touching you if they wish. And you wouldn’t stop them. The two men are immediately dumbstruck at the sight of you, their eyes widening.

“Goddamn,” Geto hisses while Gojo whistles at the sight of your naked body. Both reactions make you flush, a newfound confidence flowing through your core. You feel like the sexiest bitch alive.

“This definitely beats those tight-ass pencil skirts you be wearin’ to work,” Gojo chuckles as he runs his long fingertips down your sides. “So many times I’ve thought about bendin’ you over my desk while Geto kisses those pretty lips of yours.” You whimper at his naughty fantasy, wanting the same thing.

“Or while I play with these gorgeous tits,” Geto mumbles, pressing his front to your back. One of his big hands moves to gently fondle one of your breasts, keeping his touch light. His warm palm and fingers touch every sensitive part of your breast, even pinching your hardened nipple.

A moan escapes your lips, unable to be hidden anymore. “And there’s another one for you, ‘Tarou,” the long-haired beauty chuckles, nodding at your other free breast. "Help me relax her a bit more.”

Gojo quickly swoops in and begins suckling at the brown peak of your hard nipple, his wet tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Geto follows suit, taking your other nipple into his mouth and suckling gently on it. Your mouth falls open into an O of ecstasy, the feeling of their hot, wet mouths and tongues caressing your breasts a euphoric experience.

“Fuck,” you whimper, leaning your head back against a rock. Geto hums approvingly as he continues to lap at your nipple as if he is trying to draw milk from it. “That’s it, baby,” Gojo coos, pausing from sucking your nipple. “Just relax. You deserve this.” His pearly whites begin to nibble gently on your nipple, the slight sharpness of his teeth making you draw a sharp breath.

‘I do,’ you find yourself thinking. ‘I deserve this.’ You deserve every ounce of the pleasure they are trying to give you. Your hands move to caress their hair, gripping the strands every time they lick or tug on a particularly sensitive part of your gorgeous titties.

Your pussy can’t take it! She’s dripping for attention at this point, begging you to put her out of her misery. Gojo must realize this from the way you whine and moan from his and Geto’s lips.“Someone’s excited,” he chortles, smirking cockily up at you. “You want me to touch you?”

You whimper, hesitant. Your pride does not allow you to use your voice despite your desperation. Gojo just laughs, silently making fun of your dilemma. “Use your words, baby, or I can’t help you,” he teasingly whispers against your breast. His hot breath caressing your sensitive bud nearly makes your pussy’s heartbeat accelerate. You’re losing it, wanting something, anything.

Your desperation wins. “Dammit, Gojo, just touch me!” you whine. “I want you to touch my pussy…please.” You stare into the ocean-blue depths of Gojo’s eyes, finding the sheer joy in your begging there. You don’t get to stare into them long because Geto turns your face to his and presses a passionate kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’d better give her what she wants before she loses her mind, ‘Tarou.”

And like a good man should, Gojo puts you out of your misery but lighting stroking your clit with his thumb. The little pulses have you seeing stars and your eyes flutter closed to see more. Gojo proceeds to press kisses to your neck, humming approvingly as he does. “That feel good?” he teasingly asks, his hot breath fanning your neck. It does…but you need something else. Something more. “N-need…need more,” you softly moan. “Please taste me.”

A lustful look flashes across Gojo’s face. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” He nods at Geto and the dark-haired man takes hold of you by your hips, scooping you up and chuckling at your squeak. He then places you up on a flat rock, allowing you time to get used to the new environment. “Comfortable, mama?” Geto asks you, stroking your outer thigh. You nod, the summer breeze feeling cool against your wet skin and pussy that has become sensitive to everything.

“Now let’s see what you’ve got for us,” Gojo purrs, moving forward to pry your legs open with one of his big hands. “Shit!” Geto hisses, gaping incredulously at your glistening pussy. Gojo makes a noise between a moan and a hum, filling your core with heat. “Somethin’ tells me all of that ain’t from the water,” he hums, his hooded eyes flicking up at you. “All of that for us, princess? How generous of you. But who gets the first taste?”

He stares at Geto challengingly, but Geto has already moved in front of him to get in between your legs. “Hey!” Gojo shouts, pouting at his spot being taken. Geto pulls away to spare him a glance. “You were takin’ too long,” he deadpans. “I made the decision for you.” His violet eyes flick up to stare into yours, making your heart and clit throb. “Let me know what feels good to you.”

You wish you could tell him everything he does feels good: the slow flicks and swirls of his big tongue against your clit; how carefully yet methodically he slides the muscle in his mouth against your wet slit; the pillowy-softness of his lips cushioning your pussy and rubbing against your clit. Your head rolls back, as do your eyes, unable to keep focus on Geto’s head bobbing between your legs. “Sugu,” you moan. “That…ah, shit…that feels really good.”

Gojo isn't a silent eater either. When he isn’t making the sloppiest, wet sounds with his tongue and mouth in your cunt, he’s talking to you, telling you how good you taste. “So wet,” he moans into your pussy. “So sweet…you taste so fuckin’ good for me.” His deep voice rumbling in your pussy only makes you gush more which he happily laps up like a delighted dog.

You’ve fallen so deep into the pleasure Geto is giving you that you barely hear Gojo getting out of the water to instead settle down next to you. When you suddenly feel a few water droplets splash onto your naked tits, your eyes flutter open to see the white-haired hottie kneeling above you with a teasing smirk toying at his pink lips. “You look so goddamn cute like this, princess,” he sighs dreamily as if imagining his turn licking your cunt.

Geto begins to swirl his tongue in your clit, using the tip of it to caress your clit. His ministrations cause you to whimper pitifully, the pleasure too much for you to take. Your eyes flicker down to Gojo’s groin in your face and you notice the tent he’s pitching in his trunks.

Not even thinking, your hand moves to caress his hardened dick, your puppy-dog eyes staring up at him pleadingly. Surprise flashes in his eyes before it is replaced with full-blown lust. “Oh? You want me?” he questions, smirking down at you. “How can I deny such an adorable request?”

Without another word, he unties his Calvin Klein swim trunks and shoves them down his tanned thighs, revealing his gorgeous, thick, hard cock protruding from a patch of silver pubic hair. Your eyes widen as it pulses and throbs in front of your face, ready for all of you. Gojo raises an expectant eyebrow at you, his hand grabbing the base of his cock.

Knowing what he wants, you slowly open your mouth, covering your teeth with your juicy, kissable lips. He slowly slides his cock inside of your inviting mouth and you clamp your lips around him. A long sigh leaves his lips and his head rolls back, exposing his neck and bobbing Adam’s Apple. You continue to bob your head along his long dick, soon becoming used to his girth.

You take one hand to replace his wrapped around his cock and begin to swirl your tongue along the head, lapping up the precum that dribbles out for you. Gojo stares down at you, his blue eyes dark and face flushed with pleasure. “Ah…fuck!” he softly moans, his eyes squeezing shut as your tongue runs over the most sensitive spots along his cock. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of this: you with your pretty face stuffed full of my cock. You look even better than in my dreams.”

You slowly take him back into your mouth where you begin to move your head back and forth along his cock, hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tight. Gojo isn’t quiet either–he moans and swears; whimpers and groans at the feeling of your tight, wet mouth wrapped around him. You try to follow the same pattern as Geto’s slow, teasing strokes, taking your sweet time. The sounds that leave your lips are sloppy and lewd, making your pussy clench tighter in Geto’s mouth.

When you finally feel like you’ve gotten used to him, you begin to try to take Gojo into your throat…God, is that a mistake. Already, your jaw begins to ache and your throat feels full from him, but Gojo doesn’t consider that when he gives you a lustful, deviant stare. “Want me to fuck that face, princess?” he huffs. “Nod for yes.”

Your throat is gonna hate your ass for this later, but you nod, causing Gojo to moan at the vibrations against his dick. “Good girl. Now listen carefully: if any time you need something, if you wanna breathe or want me to stop, just tap my thigh twice, got it?” You nod once again and Geto praises you. “So obedient,” he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. “C’mon, ‘Toru, don't tease the girl. Give her what she wants.”

Gojo doesn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, he shifts his hips and slides deeper inside your mouth, sliding across your throat. You choke a bit as he does so until you can nearly feel him touch the back of your throat. You instantly open your throat more as if to yawn and breathe slowly through your nose, trying to avoid choking along Gojo’s cock.

He doesn’t go slow either. Immediately, his hand grips your hair and he proceeds to rut into your throat, fucking your face like he is in need of it. “Ah, yes!” he moans, high-pitched and brazened. “Take it, baby. Take all of me down that throat like a good lil’ girl.”

And you do, ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes and the ache of your jaw. Spit pools along your bottom lip and drips down your chin, causing your mouth to make sharp, sucking sounds whenever Gojo thrusts.

His eyes are wild as he stares down at you sucking him off like the best little slut he’s ever had. “I bet you’ve been feenin' for this, haven’t you?” he chuckles deviously. “I bet the thought of havin’ the both of us has made you wet, right?”

You don’t answer, too occupied with his merciless, rough thrusts and heavy balls slapping against your chin. Gojo pulls back a bit to allow you to speak as Geto sharply smacks your pussy, making your clit jump with pleasure as soon as his palm makes contact with it. “Answer him,” he growls.

You nearly cry out in both pleasure and pain, becoming drunk on the strange mixture. “Yes!” you moan around Gojo’s cock, your words muffled and gargled. “I-I’ve wanted this! I’ve wanted you both for so, so long!”

Gojo grins widely, sliding his thick cock out of your mouth. The sight of it being so wet and slick with your spit makes your stomach flip excitedly. “Gooood girl!” he coos, patting your cheek. “You deserve a reward for your honesty. Sugu, switch with me. I’m almost jealous seein’ you get a taste of that pussy for so long.”

Geto is up and out from between your legs immediately, jumping at the chance to get his dick in your mouth. And shit, is it a dick to behold: he is much thicker than Gojo but not quite as long with one long, pulsating vein trailing from the pink, bulbous tip dripping his precum to the base that leads up to a patch of black hair and a smooth, toned, tanned stomach and V-line. You can't take your eyes off of him, even as he and Gojo switch positions.

Geto grabs his dick and holds it in front of you, his eyes dark with lust and need. "Stick your tongue out,” he breathlessly orders you. You do so and he begins to tap his head against your tongue before sliding himself in your mouth. Damn, is he thick! Your mouth and jaw stretch to accommodate his size though not without discomfort.

Geto groans as he slides deeper and deeper, each inch opening up your throat more. “Deeper, mama,” he grunts. "Take me deeper.”

He gives you no choice but to do so, even though your nostrils burn from inhaling and exhaling too hard to avoid choking on his dick. You can’t help but gag on it though as your throat flexes against his shaft that begins to stroke the wet walls of your throat. He, too, begins to fuck your throat though not as roughly or quickly. His strokes are slow yet deep, touching the back of your throat with every single thrust of his hips.

Gojo watches from the waters below, settled in between your thighs as he begins to caress your pussy. “How’s she feel, Sugu?” he teasingly hums. “Isn’t her throat heaven on earth?”

Geto only answers with a moan, his entire body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. Gojo’s tongue sliding inside of your pussy nearly distracts you as he begins to work your little, wet hole. You moan along Geto’s cock as your thighs tighten around Gojo’s head. He pulls away a bit to speak, his lips glistening from your wetness. “You’re so tight, princess. All I’m doin’ is just tonguefuckin’ you and you’re clenchin’ around me. Wonder how’d you feel with my dick in you.”

"You might wanna…ah, shit…finger her, just in case,” Geto huffs, still bumping his hips against your mouth. “Get her ready for when she…fuck yes, baby…takes you.”

Gojo hums appreciatively at the lewd idea. “Mmm, I like the way you think, Sugu.” Before you can even prepare, he is replacing his tongue with one of his long piano fingers. You practically scream around Geto’s cock as Gojo fucks you with his finger, slowly but effectively bringing you closer to the brink of madness as he strokes your G-spot.

You can’t help it–you pop off of Geto’s cock to vocalize your pleasure and need to orgasm. “God, ‘Tarou!” you moan. “Please make me cum! I’m so, so close!”

Your toes curl against Gojo’s head and your entire body clenches as he pushes you farther toward that hill. He grins up at you, his finger still curling in your cunt in a ‘come hither’ motion that has you witnessing God. “That’s some good begging if I haven’t heard it before,” he snickers. “Cum for us now, baby. Gush all over my fuckin’ face.”

He ducks his head between your thighs again, his tongue doing the talking now. The constant stimulation against your clit and the wet strokes of Geto stroking his dick in your face cause you to hurdle down that hill into a sea of bliss. When that chord finally snaps inside of you, you practically scream to the skies above as you gush all over Gojo’s face, your entire body tensing as the pleasure flows through your veins.

Gojo appreciatively laps up every ounce of your cum, never wasting a single drop. “So sweet!” he groans. “You gave me so much, princess. You must’ve been so needy for so long.”

Geto pauses his dick-stroking to greedily stare down at your open legs and his boyfriend’s face between them. “Hey, don’t be greedy. Gimme some of that, too.”

He ducks down to press a hand to the back of Gojo’s head and bring him in for a rough, open-mouthed kiss where their tongues swirl and hands thread through their hair. You can’t help it–you begin to touch yourself at the erotic sight of the two attractive men kissing in front of you. Gojo notices and pulls away to laugh, a string of spit trailing from his lip to Geto’s. “Uh-oh,” he coos. “Looks like someone liked seeing that. You naughty slut, gettin’ off to us kissing.”

You whimper, unable to deny it. Geto groans while Gojo looks visibly pained at the sight. “God, you’re just too cute,” he growls, visibly frustrated by your adorableness. “It’s takin’ everything in me to not fuck you silly right now.” You can see it–his cock is throbbing and twitching for you, as is Geto’s.

The two stare down at you as if you’re a dessert place they’re desperate to get a taste of. “What do you want now, princess?” Gojo asks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You have no time to be prideful. Your throbbing, aching pussy won’t allow you to. You’re about to tear your hair out if you don’t get either of them inside of you. Your hand continues to stroke your pussy right in their faces, beckoning their cocks forward.

“I want both of you,” you beg. “Please…I can't wait anymore. I’m on the pill too, so please just fuck me right here, right now.” The you that you were before this encounter would’ve given you a look of pure disgust at your babbling and pleading to get fucked by two men you barely know.

The duo side-eye each other, devious plans in their eyes. “You take the front, I take the back?” Gojo snickers. Geto scoffs, not even bothering to give an appropriate answer. “I could give less of a fuck where I end up. Just as long as my cum ends up all over her.”

While your pussy clenches at the vulgarity of his language, Gojo mockingly gasps, delighted at his boyfriend’s words. “So vulgar!” he giggles. “I love that.” He then gives your ass a smack, the sound reaching the very tops of the trees. “On all fours, baby. Don’t keep us waiting.”

You do as they say, slowly getting into position, now facing Geto while Gojo settles behind you. You shiver at the feeling of the white-haired hottie’s hands caressing your ass, giving it sharp spanks every so often. Geto’s violet eyes glimmer down at you as he strokes his cock in your face.

“Open wide, mama,” he coos, and you do so, looking up at him as you obediently widen your jaw to accommodate his size. Speaking of accommodating size, your pussy is busy doing the same thing to Gojo’s cock that has just begun to slide inside of you, slow and careful.

You tense slightly as his cock stretches out your pussy. You can’t remember when you had a dick this well-endowed. Gojo’s hands stroke your sides, easing your nerves. “Just relax, princess. Tell me when you want me to continue.” He keeps his hips still despite Geto’s slow strokes as he gently fucks your mouth. After a few minutes of adjusting, you pull away from Geto’s cock to speak.

“Okay,” you softly say, turning to look behind your shoulder at Gojo. “Go ahead. It’s just a stretch, but I’m not hurting. You can move now.” Gojo nods and begins to roll his hips into you. As soon as he does, you’re both moaning at the feeling of his cock stroking your insides. “Just as I thought,” he grunts. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

You can’t even describe how he feels. His dick stretches out your cunt and strokes every single pleasurable part of your insides that have your legs shaking and body trembling. The more he thrusts, the more he rubs up against your G-spot, almost painfully so. It’s just too much!

But Gojo holds you firmly by your hips, completely bottomed out inside of you and rearranging your guts with every single thrust. “Uh-uh, baby; don’t run for me. You begged me for this shit and now you’re gonna take it.”

He chuckles at your whines of protest and trembling body, making you feel even more like a pathetic slut. You want to escape from the constant stimulation, but the way he continues to beat your pussy into submission and drag you closer to your second orgasm is too delicious. And he’s so, so deep! The more he thrusts, the deeper he gets until he is very nearly kissing your cervix (but not too much for pain).

“‘Tarou, please!” you whine, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Too much…so deep!”

Gojo giggles–fucking giggles–at your struggle, his pearly whites gleaming brighter than the sun. “Yeah?” he chuckles. “Just how a slut like you needs it, hm? Nice…and slow…and deep?”

He begins to rock his hips back and forth into you with every drawn-out word, agonizingly slow and enjoying the way you squirm and whine around Geto’s cock when the long-haired beauty slides it back into your gaping, wet mouth.“Don’t slack now, mama,” he chuckles, finding amusement in your sensitivity. “Don’t be a pillow princess either. You’ve gotta work for this.”

Gojo lets out a shuddering moan, his head tossed back to the evening sky. “Fuck me,” he moans, shuddering at the way you feel wrapped around him. “With the way she’s squeezin’ around me, she’s doin’ a good job so far. We should test her and see if can still handle it.” He gives Geto a wide, evil smile from over your shoulder. “Let’s fuck her at the same time.” Geto shares the same evil smirk and you can already tell you’re in danger.

“W-Wait, guys,” you protest around Geto’s cock, but you can’t finish the rest of your sentence as pleasure explodes in your core when Gojo begins to piston his hips inside of you at the same time as Geto. They each match the same pace and pattern, rutting in and out of your holes until your eyes are wet with tears and your body is aching for release. They fill you to the brim with their cocks, using your body for their own pleasure while also giving you yours.

“Please!” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re begging for. Do you want them to continue? Do you want them to stop? You don’t know, your mind too fuzzy with pleasure to decide what is too much. Either way, the two devils currently filling your holes decide to do as they please anyway, fucking you like there is no tomorrow.

“Come on now, princess,” Gojo breathlessly coaxes. “Fuck me back. Show me how much you need this shit.” You feel him prop up one leg for a better angle–one that causes your clit to tingle excitedly and be stimulated with every thrust.

You moan around Geto’s cock as you begin to shamelessly whine your hips and toss your ass back into Gojo’s thrusts, meeting him halfway. Geto lets out a loud, panty-dropping moan, his black hair like a wild mane around his face. “Fuck!” he practically bellows. “I don’t know what the fuck you just did, but she just took me deeper!” And you did–you can feel him touching the back of your burning, raw throat from it constantly being fucked.

Gojo smirks at his boyfriend’s blissed-out expression, slightly slowing down his thrusts. “While your pussy feels amazing, sweetie, I’m not gonna lie: cummin’ down your throat and possibly on your pretty face sounds very enticing.” Finally, he pauses from fucking you despite your whine of protest. “Wanna switch, Sugu?”

Geto immediately pulls his dick out of your mouth, his eyes flashing with lust. “I thought you wouldn’t ask.” Warning signs flare in your brain as the duo slowly switches places–Geto in the back, Gojo in the front. Your throat and your pussy are currently throbbing and aching with sensitivity from their cocks. How are you going to handle more?

“Boys…I-I don't think I can…” Gojo shushes you, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Just relax, sweetness. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just let us fuck these pretty holes the way you need us too, okay?” He flashes a white-toothed grin at you.

Before you can agree or protest, both of their cocks are sheathing inside of you once more. “God!” Gojo moans at the same time as Geto wordlessly sighs as he sinks into your pussy.

They waste no time fucking you, both sliding in and out of your body at the same time. Your body bounces from the force of Geto’s thrusts, your tits jiggling and ass slapping in time with his thrusts. You can tell he is close to his orgasm with how forceful his thrusts are.

You’re not too far behind–you can feel your own orgasm quickly rising to the surface, your core beginning to distractedly tighten. Geto notices your shift in body chemistry and loops a hand between your thighs to rub your wet, aching clit. You scream around Gojo’s cock, sobbing at the pleasure.

“You’re close too, aren’t you, mama?” Geto asks. “I can feel that body shaking. I should speed up, shouldn’t I?” He does so, slamming his hips against you so hard that his balls begin to slap your clit.

Gojo speeds up too, filling your nostrils and tongue with the scent and taste of him. “Maybe I should too, so you can take this fat load all the way down your throat.” He presses his hand into your hair, coaxing you to look up at him. “How's this for relaxation, hm?” he teases. “Just what you needed, right?”

‘Yes!’ you scream in your head. This is exactly what you needed to take yourself out of you for a moment–to be fucked and used; to receive pleasure while also giving it. “Tryna act like you didn’t want this or like us,” Geto huffs, “when in reality, you’ve been needin' some dick for the longest. I bet you were burning inside just wantin’ this for yourself.” He continues to circle your clit, his fingers working overtime. “Such a greedy little girl.”

You are a greedy girl because that second orgasm begins to rise within you with every thrust of Geto’s cock and pulse of his fingers against your clit. That chord begins to tighten again, threatening to snap very soon. “Sugu, please!” you whine around Gojo’s hard dick still deep down your throat. Your eyes screw tight and your brows knit together, no doubt giving an ugly expression.

“Go right ahead, baby,” Geto grunts, fucking you faster. “It’s fine. Give it all to me. I know you want to, so don’t you dare hold back.”

Gojo chuckles from above you, gently stroking the back of your head. “You heard the man, princess,” he whispers. "Go ahead and cum for him. Be a good little slut and cum all over that fat fuckin’ cock. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for us?”

Vigorously, you nod, right on the point of losing all sanity. Grunts and moans fill the air as the duo continues to fuck you, chasing their orgasms. “So goddamn pretty,” Geto grunts, giving your ass another sharp smack. “I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gorgeous. I hope you’re ready.”

Gojo is losing it too, his thrusts becoming rougher, causing you to gag around his cock and spit to drip from your bottom lip. “He ain't the only one, princess. I’m gonna nut deep inside this pretty mouth of yours, and you’re gonna love it.”

He dips down to press his lips to your ear, gripping your hair as he does. “You wanna take these loads like a good lil’ cumslut? You wanna make us happy, right?” You whine desperately, wanting nothing more than to just cum and have them cum with you. “Please,” you whimper. “Please cum for me, both of you.” Your soft, sweet voice is all it takes for Gojo and Geto to lose the last bit of their self-restraint.

After a few more rough thrusts that have your body shaking and your soul nearly being stripped from your body, the men finally reach their breaking point. With two long, drawn-out moans that could possibly be heard over the treetops, Gojo and Geto cum deep inside of your holes.

You gasp around Gojo’s cock when you feel his warm cum spurt deep down your throat, filling your tastebuds with the creamy, salty substance.

Geto cums deep inside of your pussy, so much that you can feel it dripping down your thighs. “Take it!” he demands in a dangerous growl that makes your stomach flip. “Take all of us, baby.” And you do. You don’t have a choice.

At the same time, your orgasm hits you like a truck, slamming into you with enough force to have you sobbing. You pop off of Gojo’s cock, ignoring the spit and cum dripping down your chin. “Oh, my God!” you moan to the heavens, head tilted back and eyes squeezed tight as your orgasm washes over you. “I’m cumming!” you babble. “I’m cumming!”

“Yes, baby, we know,” Gojo chuckles, gently stroking your face. He then cackles at your expression. “Look at those pretty eyes rollin’ back. Such a slutty face you’ve got there, babe.”

He squeezes your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together as your orgasm continues to rock you to your core. You wish you could feel this feeling of euphoria forever. You’re not thinking about work or this business trip or your responsibilities. All you’re thinking about is how good you feel and the men that are making you feel this good.

Finally, after a few slow breaths, you come back down to earth though your head is swimming and your body is exhausted. At this point, the sun has left, plunging you, Gojo, and Geto into a blueish shade that twilight provides.

The crickets chirp and the cicadas buzz, alerting you that it is now nighttime. Your eyes flutter closed, unable to hold themselves up anymore. You feel tired and are in need of rest. Your body aches in the best way, your pussy feeling sensitive and full. A weak moan leaves your lips as Gojo and Geto gently pull out of you.

“Still on earth with us, mama?” Geto softly asks, stroking your backside. “Can you move?”

You weakly shake your head, knowing damn well your legs are mush and your feet have lost their mind. Gojo giggles from in front of you, stroking your scalp. “Looks like we took the life right outta her,” he laughs. “Let’s get her in the house and under some covers.”

Though you can’t see anything because your eyes are closed, you are aware that one of the men has scooped you up into his arms and has begun to carry you back into the house. “M-My towel,” you mumble tiredly. Your head lulls against a broad, wet chest, your ear catching the sound of a heartbeat.

“We’ll go back out to get it,” Geto murmurs to you. “You just relax for now.”

And you do, nearly falling asleep in his arms but not enough to miss snippets of the journey from the hot springs to the house. The boys immediately take you upstairs to their bedroom where they proceed to lay you down on the softest and silkiest of sheets. You sigh when your skin immediately hits the cool sheets and soft mattress, your tired muscles relaxing instantly.

You feel the mattress dip when Gojo and Geto get into bed on either side of you, trapping you between their hard, warm bodies. “Did you enjoy yourself, baby?” Geto asks as he lifts a glass to your lips. “Here, sip some water.”

You do so, grateful for the drink. “Mmm-hmm,” you softly reply, eyes still shut. “It was so nice…you both were so good.” Gojo chuckles from next to you, his long fingers tracing shapes down your arm. “Why, how sweet of you. It was nice for us too.”

Geto hums in agreement, looping his big arm around the back of your head to serve as a pillow. Comfortable silence descends upon you three that only comes from good sex. You feel content in their arms, in this bed with them. You feel like whatever you three are could work, no matter what your workplace has to say behind your back or on the low when they need some juicy gossip.

You want to ask them if you’re dating now or if that is even possible for the three of you, but sleep and the mingling scents of their cologne tell you that it can wait until morning. All you want is this comfort and this good, good feeling to last.

“Y'know you really were amazing for us, babe,” Gojo coos, his lips ghosting over yours. “Just tell me somethin’. Who made you cum the hardest? Was it me or was it–“

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo,” Geto growls, “or you’ll be sleepin’ in that lake."

All you can do is giggle before sleep finally comes and you fall into a beautiful dream of you three, together.

THE END.

#smutty smut #black fanfic writer #my works #my fic shit #my one shots #suguru geto x black!reader #satoru gojo x black!reader #black coded reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #18+ one shot #poly geto x gojo #poly smut

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dreamings-free · 5 months ago

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Move over George Clooney. From Paul Mescal to Jeremy Allen White, there’s a new gang of pin-ups with salt-and-pepper hair and they’re under 40

Tuesday August 13 2024, 9.00am BST, The Sunday Times by Richard Gray

—

With the first wisps of silver comes wisdom, they say, but while many men of a certain age choose to turn back the clock by reaching for a box of dye, a new wave of younger men are simply refusing to colour theirs in. The truth is that grey hair has never been so cool — just look at the red carpet. “There’s a handful of relatively young actors who just don’t care if we see them with grey hair or not,” says Paul Toner, deputy editor of 10 magazine. “Look at somebody as successful as Paul Mescal: when he’s not dying his hair for a new role, he lets his grey grow through and doesn’t mind one bit.”

He’s a silver fox? “More a silver fox in training. Let’s call him a silver fox cub instead,” Toner says. At 28, the Normal People star is one of several celebrities who, according to Toner, are “reframing” what it means to be a man approaching his thirties.

“We’ve had ‘zaddies’, those older, strapping sugar daddies with wallets to match — and we all know a silver fox when we see one — but these men, up to and around that 35 mark, understand that with salt and pepper hair comes a certain authority, a sort of superpower,” he says. As one of the four horsemen of the middle-age apocalypse (see also the pierced ear, the leather blouson and a sudden interest in cycling Lycra) the first sight of grey hair is no longer considered the over-the-hill omen of old age it once was.

At 33, arguably the world’s hottest chef who’s not actually a chef, The Bear’s Jeremy Allen White has a cut that cleverly blends his greys (on the temples and at the front) with his medium-length fair and wavy hair. At 30, the Quiet Place actor Joseph Quinn isn’t afraid to let his buzz-cut greys grow out. And at 36, the actors Jonathan Bailey (Bridgerton) — with his Mallen streak — and Nick Sagar (Shadowhunters) — with his all-over grey, natural curls — have cuts that emphasise rather than disguise their salt and pepper hair. A little grey — and its associated characteristics of wisdom, experience, authority and “been about a bit but you still definitely would” — represents, for these men at least, a chance to redefine themselves as they gear up for middle age.

Not that everybody is on board with grey hair. When Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction, turned up at Glastonbury (he’s 32) with — brace yourselves — more than a few wisps of white in the front and sides, social media went into meltdown. From a disapproving “[he’s] making me feel 500 years old”, to “my man is getting more SEXY!”, his natural, dye-free hair caused quite the stir.

“Louis’s hair hovers around the 20 per cent salt to about 80 per cent pepper, mark,” says Mads-Sune Lund Christensen, a colourist at Josh Wood Salon in London. “I have men, and these are successful men, who come in for a colour and ask specifically for some grey to be left in — and that’s a new thing,” he says. “In the past, clients always wanted full coverage to remove it.” So now they want to look their age? “They want the salt and the pepper to show — and its authority.”

“It’s everywhere you look,” Toner adds. “You only have to watch something as hugely popular with men as Match of the Day.” Older chaps, yes, but Alan Shearer, Roy Keane and Gary Lineker — three of the most watched and, certainly, admired men on British television — all have grey hair or grey in their beards. Keane’s salt and pepper Grizzly Adams number is an absolute belter. Forget Succession, it’s these men (see also Graeme Souness and Jamie Carragher, the list goes on) who are influencing how younger millennial males wear their hair and, indeed, how they dress.

A quick walk down the men’s aisle in Boots confirms that products for salt and pepper hair have never been so effective, or popular: Control GX Grey Reducing Shampoo (which sounds as if it should be on Top Gear), for example, maintains that all-important seasoning mix. Meanwhile, what’s surely the best bit of man-kit since the reclining chair, Just For Men Moustache & Beard Brush-In Colour Gel will tone down any of those comedy pirate beards in bingo-marker black.

#his greys #love it #silver fox louis #richard gray #sunday times style #18.08.24 #article #thank youu louisandtheaquarian !!

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

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Just this one time (Oneshot)

[modern! • Aemond x sexworker! • female ]

[warnings: sex content, smut, sexwork, anxiety, fluff]

[description: The girl is forced by her life situation to set up a profile on a portal, that is used by sex workers to attract clients. One of them, a young, enigmatic man, wants more than her pictures (Anon Request). Complexes, smut, anxiety, fluff.]

This story has a continuation in another Oneshot (Just one more time), but it can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

She had never been so distraught in her life as that evening, when her mother called her to say that their father was in the hospital. Like every week, he went out to drink with friends and play cards. On his way home he didn't look at the road and was hit by a car. He had to undergo surgery which he fortunately survived, his prognosis was good.

The nightmare began when the hospital realized what neither she nor her mother knew - that her father had been unemployed for several months and was not covered by health insurance. Her mother called her crying, saying that such a gigantic sum was beyond her financial means. She worked as a school teacher and tutored. She asked her if she had any savings.

She worked part-time in a bookstore and while she was studying, paying for her room and food, she had little money. She had just gotten paid and had given her mother everything she had. Not only was it not enough, but she had no idea how she was going to make it through her paycheck and pay all the bills. She cried all night that day and didn't sleep a wink.

The next day she spent all her classes thinking hard about what to do. She called her boss, but he told her that even if he wanted to, he couldn't suddenly hire her full-time. He could have paid her a week's wages sooner, but it wouldn't have changed much. She needed a large cash injection quickly. During one of the lectures she suddenly glanced at one of the girls in her year and froze.

She once heard her talk about a website where she sold her photos and videos. She dated rich men on cams, sent them her clothes and panties, and even arranged for them to have sex in her apartment.

She said it wasn't so bad at all, she had a lot of money quickly and she didn't worry about anything. She cared about her anonymity and carefully selected her clients.

She covered her face with her hands, terrified of what she was thinking. She had had sex with her previous boyfriends, but it was always in a relationship, never with a complete stranger, and never for money. When it came to pay that meant she had to satisfy someone, be someone's product to be happy with. She dismissed the thought, knowing she couldn't do it.

When she got home she involuntarily looked at the portal that the girl was talking about. She couldn't see anything without registering.

She sighed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut, not believing what she was doing. A large window opened for her. She was surprised at how many questions she had to answer.

Is she an adult? What nickname does she want? How old is she? What interests her? What is her hobby - sweet photos, videos, maybe meetings or video chat? What kind of men or women, and in what age range, did she want to meet on the portal? What prices for what services?

Once in a while she'd get up from her laptop, pacing the room with her hands on her cheeks, wondering if it was safe, and what if anyone found out. She'd probably die of embarrassment, but each time she sat back down and went back to writing.

No videos. No webcams. No meetings. Just pictures, sweet, innocent, maybe in a light negligee. Men aged 20-35. She didn't want any old, disgusting guys looking at her.

She clicked "register" and her account appeared in front of her on the portal. She could now add more details about herself, what she does, what she likes and dislikes.

She wrote down a few things, including her interests. All that's left to do was post the photos. She sighed softly, went on Pinterest and started looking for aesthetic inspiration. She wasn't going to make pornography out of herself.

She saw plenty of girls with shirts unbuttoned that were too big or in huge sweaters that uncovered their shoulders, in long socks to the middle of the thighs or in delicate, subtle underwear.

It wasn't too bad, she decided, because there was a charm to it and she could crop out the photo, so her face wouldn't be visible. Her whole apartment was decorated by her in a vintage style that she loved and the decor was perfect for the scenery for such photos.

She sighed heavily and looked into her closet. She put on her warm, light wool socks to the middle of her thighs, a soft cream sweater that reached her buttocks, and delicate panties. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, so her breasts were slightly visible.

She thought she looked cute. She let down her long, slightly wavy hair and sat on the floor in front of her large mirror. Behind her was her beautiful bed and a lovely white chest of drawers, a soft white rug underneath.

She made herself comfortable, leaning back against the bed, her legs bent at the knees in front of her covering what was between her thighs. She held the phone up so that it covered her face and took a picture.

She cropped it, added a filter to increase the saturation and make the whole thing a little more pastel, and it was ready. She looked again to see if there were any photos or other objects in the photo that might have identified her, but she couldn't find anything. She took a few more photos in similar outfits, uploaded them to her laptop and added them with a heavy heart, setting one of them as her profile picture.

She also fixed the price for taking pictures on request. She pointed out that there is no nudity or strange positions involved. She thought she was so demanding and restrictive that no one would want anything from her anyway. Tired and discouraged by what she had done, she simply went to sleep.

She woke up in the morning, rubbed her eyes and got up to drink water. She sat down with her glass and opened her laptop, wanting to see if anything had happened to her account. She almost choked when she saw that she had thirty new notifications. She was terrified and for a moment afraid to click on it. She finally did and started reading.

Several men paid her fixed sum for similar photos she posted. They wrote that she is gorgeous, that they would like a photo of her lying down and wearing different clothes, but leave it to her how she will solve it. She swallowed loudly as she saw several messages suggesting meeting up for sex, sending someone her socks or underwear. She paused on the last message and for a moment thought she had imagined it.

Someone had sent her more than she agreed for a single photo. He was the only one who wrote nothing. She clicked on his account out of curiosity. His profile picture was a black square. All it said was 25 years old, male. In the place where you could insert your short description it said: "Don't write to me."

She blinked, wondering what that was supposed to mean, and whether it meant that the women he orders from wouldn't write to him. She wanted to do it to tell him that he had transferred too much money to her, but she assumed that if he wrote that, then maybe he did it intentionally.

As soon as she got home after class she began to think about how to dress for the new photos. For the men who sent her the amount she asked for she wore a long T-shirt, also without a bra, the same long socks and underwear. This time she lay down on the carpet, lifted her calves slightly while lying on her stomach. She covered her face with her phone again as she took the picture.

She thought that she would come up with something special for the man who paid her more. She took her thin, translucent white robe and tied it around her waist, so that her shoulders were bare. Her legs were bare too.

She took the flowers she had bought that day in one hand, so that they covered her breasts. When she checked herself in the camera, she thought that she looked like some sensual, baroque painting. She took a photo, applied the same filters as before, and sent him the photo first.

Then she changed into normal clothes and started writing one of the essays. She felt terrible, but at the same time felt some kind of relief when she saw that the money had actually flowed into her account. She figured a few weeks and she'd be able to get the rest of the money she needed.

She saw that a dot had appeared on the app card, indicating that there was a new notification. She clicked there curiously, unfolded the list, and froze.

The man who paid more for her picture ordered another one, paying three times as much as before. Again, he didn't write anything to her. No additional requirements.

She pursed her lips as she felt her heart pounding. She thought he must be a very rich, bored young man. Or one that has no success with women. She had to appreciate that he wasn't asking her to do any perverted things.

She decided that since he was paying her so much, she had to make an effort. She might not have to take pictures for anyone else, and his assignments alone would do the trick. She pondered for half an hour what to do. She grabbed the fabric of the same bathrobe, putting it on similarly.

Now she held a beautiful ornate fan in her hand, beads of sweat adorned her bare arms becasue it was hot outside. She thought she'd zoom in on them, capturing her bare arms, the slightly exposed portion of her breast, her hand with the fan, and the portion of her mouth with her dark hair falling behind her.

After applying filters, she thought that there is sensuality, lightness and promise in this photo. If she were a man, she would like to receive such photos from her woman herself. She uploaded the photo to her laptop and sent it to him. She was very curious to see if he would like it.

She jumped in seat when she saw a message from him fifteen minutes later.

Abyss: "You surprise me."

She blinked at the screen in disbelief. She thought he never texted anyone. Apparently, that didn't work when he was talking to someone himself. For a moment she didn't know what to do. He fell from the sky and she couldn't lose him.

Ophelia: "I hope that's a compliment."

She replied briefly. No cute emoticons, no subtext, no familiarity. He didn't reply for a moment, and she wondered if she should add anything. She shuddered, when she suddenly got a notification that she had received a reply from him.

Abyss: "Why are you doing this? Pictures, I mean."

His question chilled her. She swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding. What was she supposed to write to him? Even if she told him the truth, would he believe her?

There must have been plenty of girls who wrote, that they needed money because of an emergency, not because that was how they made a living. However, she decided that his money was saving her skin and he deserved her to tell him the truth.

Ophelia: "My father had no insurance at the time he had the accident. Neither my mother nor I knew he had lost his job. I work part-time, but it's not enough. And here I am."

She read her answer a few more times and, with a trembling hand, clicked "send". She felt like she was using him. As if they objectified each other. She pursed her lips at the thought. She drew in a quick breath when he texted back after a few minutes.

Abyss: Will he make it?

For some reason, she smiled at the screen. She knew she couldn't allow anyone to talk too privately and imagine who knows what, but she found his concern and manner to be matter-of-fact and kind. She appreciated it, and she tought that she kind of needed it right now.

Ophelia: Yes, thank you, it's very kind of you to ask.

Just a few minutes later, another message arrived.

Abyss: How far are you from the full sum?

She swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on her body. For some reason she felt insecure and trapped. She finally wrote him the exact number without adding anything else.

Abyss: I'll pay the full amount if you agree to go to bed with me. On your terms.

She looked at his message and after a while she started to cry. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head, wondering what she was doing.

She felt it was all wrong, terrible, that she didn't want to do it. On the other hand, she told herself that just this once would be enough, that it would be over and she wouldn't have to do anything else.

Just this one time.

She sobbed loudly, texting him back that she agreed.

She wanted him to come to her right away the next day. She couldn't mentally take it any longer, she wanted it to be over. She thought that no matter what he looked like she would be nice to him and just give him what he wanted.

She put on a dress with tiny yellow flowers that fastened at the front, so that it was easy to take off. She wasn't wearing a bra or panties underneath.

She didn't see the point in it.

She hid a condom in one of the pockets - she wasn't going to catch anything from him. She was taking birth control pills, but preferred extra protection.

She hasn't eaten anything since morning. She was sick and pale. She took a shower, sprayed on her perfume, dried and combed her long hair. She hid in her apartment all the photos and objects that could reveal her name, as well as those of her family and friends.

She heard a soft knock on her door two minutes before the appointed time. She tried to control the shaking of her body and the fear she felt. She walked over to the door, rested her forehead against it, and exhaled softly, opening the lock. She opened it and froze.

This was not how she imagined him.

He was smoking a cigarette in the stairwell, measuring her up and down. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black pants and a black leather jacket. His blond hair was partly tied back, and he looked like a pirate with an eyepatch. She saw a long scar running down his left cheek. She wondered if the lack of an eye was the reason he preferred this way of getting close to women.

Despite the scars, she thought he was a very handsome, athletic man. He raised an eyebrow, and she remembered who she was and what she was supposed to do. She stepped aside quickly, opening the door with a crack, inviting him inside. He walked in unhurriedly, as if entering a friend's apartment.

He took off his shoes while continuing to smoke. He went deeper into the apartment, as if to check that there were no third parties, and that nothing suspicious was going on. He stubbed out his cigarette in her sink.

He glanced at her finally, his face stony, his gaze intense. She swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding wildly, her legs trembling slightly. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Will you drink something?" She asked softly, her voice trembling. His gaze softened at the sound of her voice.

"Water, thank you." He spoke calmly, his voice low and sonorous, almost purring. She felt shivers go through her.

She nodded and, without looking at him, walked into the kitchen, grabbed a clean glass and poured water into it. She handed it to him, then took a few sips from her own glass, feeling her throat go dry.

He put down his half-empty glass with a loud clatter, and looked at her meaningfully, leaning against the doorframe. She swallowed hard and set her cup down as well. She smiled warmly at him and walked past him, glancing at him, nodding for him to follow her.

They went into the room where her bed stood. The man looked around, his attention drawn to the books on her shelf. He took out some of them, looked through them, and put them back. She looked at him and wondered if she should start a conversation with him. He didn't seem like the kind of person who liked to talk about nothing, she decided.

"Here?" He asked dispassionately, and she shivered. She felt herself blush with embarrassment. She was terrified.

"Yes." She said softly, lowering her lashes. He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Is this your first time?" He asked uncertainly.

She swallowed hard and shook her head.

"Good." He said calmly and took off his leather jacket, placing it gently on the bed.

He finally sat on it, leaning forward slightly, his elbows on his thighs. He looked at her intensely, his gaze roaming her body from top to bottom. She lowered her lashes, feeling his gaze burn her.

"I won't hurt you. Don't be afraid. Do it as you see fit." He said low, looking at her calmly, his gaze black. She felt subcutaneously that he wanted her and was surprised to find, that it did not repulse her.

Maybe it was because he hadn't groped her since he walked in and let her decide what it would look like.

She approached him slowly, her legs as soft as gummies. She pursed her lips, swallowing softly.

"Can I sit on your lap?" She asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly, her face red with shame.

He grunted in acknowledgment and removed his hands, straightening up a bit as he looked at her searchingly. She straddled him, her whole body trembling. He placed his large hand on her back and stroked it steadily, their faces inches apart.

"Easy. Take your time." He spoke softly. She nodded and smiled gratefully at him. She saw his mouth part slightly at the sight, and he swallowed hard himself. She placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. She raised a hand tentatively, her fingertips close to his scarred cheek.

"Can I touch you here?" She asked softly, almost in a whisper. He just nodded his head, looking away.

Her fingers traced lightly over his skin, exploring the slight indentations where there must once have been deep wounds. She wondered if those scars were the reason for his complexes and hiding on this portal. Looking at him closely, she thought that he had an incredibly beautiful, interesting face.

He closed his eye, feeling her touch. The tips of her fingers traced further, touching his chin, cheek, mouth. She felt a shiver run through him at her touch. He finally pressed his cheek against the inside of her hand, kissing her skin gently. There was something touching about the gesture, some acknowledgment that he wanted to show her respect.

She finally took his face in both her hands and leaned over him. Her lips brushed his invitingly, gently, teasing him slightly. She heard him exhale softly, his hand tightening on the fabric of her dress. His lips parted invitingly.

She caressed his lips with hers, sucking them gently, running her wet, fleshy skin over them. He moaned softly, and she shivered at the sound. Startled, she found herself getting wetter between her thighs, her nipples hardened and showing through the fabric of her dress.

He smelled of cigarettes and strong perfume, his scent made her head spin. She shivered as she felt him return her kisses timidly, his other hand grabbing her cheek gently, pulling her closer. They began to caress and suck each other's lips, tilting their heads alternately with the wet, sticky sound of their saliva, panting into each other's mouths.

Her hand slid into his soft hair, massaging his neck, and he grunted in delight. He continued to kiss her, his lips pressing greedily against hers, demanding more. She involuntarily moved closer to him. They both moaned into each other's mouths as she brushed against his hard manhood, throbbing in his pants.

"Fuck." He whispered into her mouth, his hand from her back slid down to her buttocks. He looked at her in shock when he realized she wasn't wearing any panties underneath. They both moaned helplessly as his large hand squeezed her firm skin, forcing her to speed up.

She didn't know what was happening to her, but she was full of lust and arousal. She thought with surprise that she wanted this. She leaned over him, pressing his face to hers, her tongue timidly passing over his lips.

He sighed loudly in surprise, his tongue coming out to meet hers. They were both panting, teasing the tips of their tongues and licking like two kittens. His hips pressed against the space between her thighs, making her moan softly.

Her hands went to the buttons of her dress. She began to undo them slowly from the top, their tongues dancing with each other with a wet, sticky sound. He gave her a blurry look as he saw her slip her dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to him.

He stared at her chest with awe and wonder. He pressed his face to the space between her breasts, kissing her top to bottom. His caresses made her feel her insides clench around nothing, her wetness running in thin rivulets down her thighs, her hips rubbing against him. She could feel him completely hard now, throbbing intensely beneath her.

A loud, unexpected moan escaped her lips as he took one of her breasts in his hand and began sucking on her nipple. She pressed his face to her chest, his hand tightening on her buttock, forcing her to speed up. They were both panting loudly, his tongue teasing and licking each of her nipples in turn.

"Feels good?" He asked in delight, his voice trembling slightly. She swallowed hard at his question.

"Y-yes, God, it feels so good" She mumbled, her hands fisted in his hair, pressing him against her breasts.

She quickly slid them down to his pants and began undoing his belt. He moved away from her and leaned back, giving her better access, helping her by undoing his button and fly. She started to reach into her pocket for a condom, but he pulled out his own, putting it on quickly and nimbly.

She rose quickly, panting softly, and pressed her forehead against his, lowering herself slightly. When she felt his tip inside her, they both moaned loudly into each other's mouths. She began to tease him by falling lightly on top of him and rising again, not pushing him inside. He writhed beneath her, thirsty and desperate.

They both leaned back and were speechless as they felt him enter her. He was so big that he barely fit in. She began to slowly ride him, panting loudly, pushing him deeper and deeper into herself. He leaned back slightly, holding her ass with one hand, staring at her helplessly, panting with her, his thighs responding to her every move with a thrust.

"You're so big." She sobbed in pleasure, pushing him all the way in, and he moaned loudly as he felt it. She leaned against his shoulders and sped up, rubbing against him where she felt the greatest pleasure, her walls pressing greedily against his cock, making him barely able to breathe.

"Fuck, you're so tight" He gasped, moving faster and more aggressively inside her, and she moaned loudly at his every move.

He finally grabbed her buttocks and turned her suddenly on her back, spreading her thighs in front of him and began to fuck her quickly and brutally, his thighs slapping again and again with a wet, sticky sound against her buttocks.

She moaned loudly, leaning back, she had never had sex with someone this intense before, beads of sweat streaming down her body, her hips responding to his every thrust. She sobbed helplessly as she felt his thumb on her clit, massaging it in a circular, intense motion, making the tension inside her unbearable.

"So wet for me. Do you like it when I touch you like that? Shall I stop?" He purred in delight, his voice trembling slightly, she felt that they were both on the verge of orgasm.

Her hands clenched the sheets around her head, her hips responding greedily to his loud, wet thrusts, filling her to the brim, rubbing where she needed it.

"No, please, touch me, touch me there" She sobbed helplessly, spreading her thighs wider for him, her nipples sticking out, hard with desire.

He moaned low hearing her words. His thumb began to caress her more intensely, pumping his cock hard into her with the wet sounds of their shared fluids trickling down their thighs. She leaned back heavily, her lips parted in pleasure.

"Oh God, I'm gonna come, please, please, please!" She sputtered, moaning loudly. She bent back suddenly, her body went through a wave of hot pleasure, moaned loudly and helplessly, she had never experienced such an orgasm before.

She felt his body begin to tremble, her insides pressing against him in waves, wanting to hold him in, he began to moan loudly along with her.

"Fuck, God, yes" He gasped, coming hard inside her, thrusting into her all the time, unable to stop.

They writhed under each other, breathing heavily, their bodies refusing to let go, clenching on each other. He stared at her half-consciously, beads of his sweat running down his shirt, his hair stuck to his face, his mouth parted. They both looked at each other as if they couldn't believe that this really happened between them.

He swallowed hard and slid out of her as if suddenly remembering who he was. She clenched her thighs, feeling suddenly empty, covering herself with her dress, trembling all over. He slid off the condom, tied it, and laid it on the floor, not knowing what to do with it.

He zipped up his pants as he got out of bed, still breathing fast. He cleared his throat without looking at her, fumbled for something in his trouser pocket. He took out a wad of bills and placed them on her nightstand.

"That's the amount we agreed on." He said lightly, his voice breaking as he said the words.

She shivered all over, feeling the cold fast on her body. She covered her mouth with her hand as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She finally hid her face from him and nodded.

"T-thank you." She said in a shaky voice and drew in a quick breath as she felt her body convulse. She thought he'd just leave, but she heard he didn't move.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked quietly. She looked at him shocked and shook her head, continuing to cry as she buttoned her dress. She felt lonely, dirty, worn out, unowned.

"Don't mind me, forgive me for my behavior." She said quickly, not looking at him, trying to calm her trembling breath. She wiped her wet nose from crying. He was silent for a moment.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked quietly.

She was silent for a moment. Desperately, she shook her head. She heard him swallow hard.

"What do you need?" He asked gently.

She opened her mouth, not believing she meant to say it.

"For you to hug me." She whispered, clenching herself, trembling all over.

She drew in another sharp breath as she heard him return to her bed. She felt his weight against her, saw his black T-shirt and pants, smelled his scent again.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. She snuggled into him like a teddy bear, burying her head into his chest. His hand tangled in her hair, the other caressing her back. She felt his heart pounding. She slowly began to calm down.

She closed her eyes as she felt him kiss her hair tenderly. She thought that she could fall asleep in the arms of this man, that she didn't even know. She cleared her throat quietly.

"T-thank you, I'm better now. I won't hold you back any longer." She whispered, but he only grunted at her words and kissed her hair again.

"Hold me for as long as you want."

_____

Oneshot written as Anon Request. I had a lot of fun writing this and I really like the end result. Let me know what you think. 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno

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