#there's supposed to be more elaborate works in the making but this new job is draining me
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Doodled to make sure that I still know how to draw (it's only been 3 weeks)
I read 1 (one) well-written fic of Carla Jean x Anton and now I'm crazy about them too.
Not a single day passes without me losing my mind (over fictional characters)
#the soapshipping mitosis idea got me really inspired#better call saul#nacho varga#honeydew & sally#carla jean moss#anton chigurh#no country for old men#fight club#there's supposed to be more elaborate works in the making but this new job is draining me#dont ever get employed. worst mistake of my life
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Instacrush
max verstappen x reader
Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, daddy kink, pining, flirting, possessive behavior, one bed trope,...
Word count: almost 7kÂ
Note: I'm gonna add a smau at the end so keep reading!
My masterlist
The engagement ring on your finger suited you perfectly. It wasnât overly large or flashy, but the single diamond gave off a subtle, delicate sparkle. It was beautiful and felt just right, symbolizing the love and unity of marriage. When you looked at it in the light, you almost thought you could feel the love Max had for you.
If only that were true.
âRemind me again why weâre doing this?â you asked, sitting down at the table across from Max.
âSo we can practice and make sure we seem like a real couple,â he replied.
You sighed, your gaze once again drifting around the hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a dining space connected to a kitchenette, one bathroom, and a bedroom. You had already pointed out the single bed, and Max, ever the professional, reminded you that part of the assignment meant you were expected to share it. After all, this was a coupleâs retreat. It wouldnât have been a problemâif only you didnât have a crush on him.
If only it were that simple.
You were completely enamoured with Max Verstappen, the handsome three-time F1 World Champion. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was the first time you met him on your first day at work. You were so caught up looking around the paddock, so excited for your first time ever set foot in the land of speed. You were just an intern working in the social media department. Landing a job during the global economic recession was a dream come true for you, not to mention, working for such a big and top-tier team like Red Bull. And thatâs where you bumped into him, his can of Red Bull splashed all over your new team uniform. And honestly, you didnât remember much since you were busy looking staring at his eyes. The bluest eyes you have ever seen. It was like the water in the ocean in Maldives that you once saw in some travel magazines. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.
Just the two of you.
âYou know,â he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. âYou don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?â
âWhat? No. Max, you aren't a terrible company,â you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. âJust been a bit since I've been in a relationship and Iâm kind of rusty,â you said.Â
âIâm just not sure Iâm the right one for this job,â you added.
âYouâre perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?â
You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a few months just to back to being coworkers after?
âWe should practice,â you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.
He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. âDid someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?â He asked in a low voice. âBecause I'll straighten them out.â
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. âNo, Max. No one said anything. You're right. Iâm good for this,â you said before you added, âWeâre good together.â
You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. âYeah,â he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. âSo. Weâre engaged. Going to a resort for a much-needed vacation. Weâll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.â
With an exhale, you recited, âWe met at the track. Both slammed into each other. Both said sorry at the same timeâ
âAnd you gave me your hands for me to get up,â you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. âOur fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.â
âAnd we immediately befriended at first,â he smiled.
Your heart swelled. He looked like he didnât have a care in the world when he smiled like that. âWe did,â you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. âWe went on that reserved dinner with the team and talked a bit about ourselves.âÂ
It was all the truth, except for the fact that you guys were never more than friends since he was with Kelly, and you. Well, you were just you, thereâs nothing really special about you for him to like. You arenât those supermodels he used to date, nor have the skinniest body type, you are chubbier, with red hair and freckles across your cheeks. Before accepting his request to be in a PR relationship with him just so he gets along with the image of not being a notorious playboy who drives a fast car as an occupation, you did ask him WHY YOU? WHY NOT SOME OTHER GIRLS? AND LETâS BE HONEST ANY OTHER GIRLS WHO ARE PRETTIER WOULD DIE TO FILL IN THE JOB, SO WHY YOU? He just stood there looking at you once again with the deepest set of blue eyes that made your knees go weak, We are friends so this is what a friend should do, right? Help each other out. And y/n I really need your helping hands now.Â
âEven proposed to you at the same restaurant,â he said, gesturing to your left hand. âBut I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,â he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.
The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.
Not that you had to do any acting on your part.
You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. âIf only that were true,â you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.Â
The silence between you two was deafening, filled only by the sound of your own heart breaking. You longed for his words to be true, for him to truly want you as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew it was all pretend. Your fingers fidgeted with the ring again, a constant reminder of the lie you were living. The weight of the situation was almost unbearable.Â
His brows furrowed. âWhat do you mean?â
Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. âI mean, what a briliant story you have in mind,â you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.
âWell, it was true, y/n.âÂ
You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional.Â
âMost of it only, Max. Anyway, enough of that. Letâs move on,â
Max looked unsatisfied with your response, his blue eyes searching your face. He could tell you were deflecting, which was both attractive and frustrating. âOkay then. How about we move on to the next part of our relationship? The first date.â He leaned back in his chair and you mimicked his movement.Â
âAh, our first date,â you said, the memory bringing a smile to your face. âIt was a classic dinner-and-a-movie type date, right?â
Max chuckled at your summation of your first date. âYeah, it was pretty basic, but it was our first date,â he said, his voice low. âI wanted to keep things simple and focus on just the two of us. No fancy restaurants or anything like that.â
You recalled how nervous you were leading up to the date, spending hours trying to figure out what to wear and worrying about what to say. In hindsight, you didnât need to have been so worried.
âBut you looked beautiful that night,â Max continued, a small smile playing on his lips. âYou always do.â
You tried to ignore the way your heart quickened at his compliment. How was it that Max Verstappen, F1 World Champion, and certified heartthrob, could say something so casually that made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive?Â
âThanks, Max,â you said, your cheeks starting to heat up. You twisted the ring on your finger, your nervous habit making its appearance. âYou looked pretty good yourself, if I remember correctly.â
Max chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on your hand. âAre you nervous, Schatje?â he teased, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. âYouâre fiddling with your ring again.â
Your cheeks flushed even more. You should be used to his teasing by now, especially after the time you two had spent together recently while preparing for this PR mission. And yet, every time he called you darling, your heart would do somersaults in your chest.Â
âNo, Iâm not,â you denied, knowing how unconvincing you sounded. âJust⌠practicing my part, you know. For the acting thing.â
Maxâs eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He knew that you were avoiding something, but he didnât push further. Instead, he nodded in agreement. âYeah, letâs keep going.â
He began to recite the next bit of their cover story. âWhatâs our favorite couple activity?â
You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the mention of couple activity. "Well," you began, your voice shaky, "our favorite couple activity is definitely cooking together. It's a great way for us to bond and spend quality time together."Â
âWell it must be you will be the chef and Iâm your assistant then, since I couldnât even boil an egg to save my life, Liefje.â
Max's self-deprecating comment took you a little by surprise. You were used to seeing him as the confident, world-class athlete on the track, not as a hopeless cook in the kitchen.
You chuckled softly at his admission. "Well, I guess you'll have to stick to being my sous-chef then. I can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."
Max groaned exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to stick to fetching the ingredients and looking pretty," he joked.
You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes, you can be the pretty one, Max. I'll do all the hard work in the kitchen."
He chuckled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I guess I should be thankful that I have a gorgeous girl doing all the cooking for me, then."
His compliment left you feeling warm and tingly, but you tried to brush it off and stay focused on the task at hand.
"But you have to promise me one thing, Max," you insisted, trying to maintain your composure. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your condition. "What's that, Schatje?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.
You leaned forward a bit, your eyes meeting his. "You have to be my personal taste tester. Gotta make sure everything is just right."
Max chuckled at your condition, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah, so I'm not only your sous-chef, but I also get the privilege of being your taste-tester?" he teased.
You nodded, a sly smile of your own on your lips. "That's right. You'll be my human guinea pig. No complaining, just eating." Max groaned dramatically, pretending to look disappointed.
Despite his initial reluctance, Max couldn't help but smile at your cheeky request. "Okay, okay, I'll be your taste-tester on one condition," he countered.
Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "And what's that?"
Max leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, "You have to give me one of your special desserts afterward."
You laughed, surprised at his audacity. "Oh, now you're pushing it, Verstappen," you quipped. "But I suppose I can throw in a dessert for you, as a token of my appreciation for your taste-testing services."
Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Deal," he said, a playful grin on his face. "Let's hope your cooking skills are as good as your baking, Liefje."
âWhy don't you have a boyfriend?â He asked suddenly.
The switch in topic jarred you. âThatâs. Iâm. What? How is that relevant?â
It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.
âIâm curious,â he shrugged.
You swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, your life was dominated by work, leaving little time for relationships. But if you explained that to Max, he'd probably just call you a workaholic and laugh. He was the epitome of work hard, play just as hard.
"I don't know," you finally said, trying to sound casual. "I guess I just haven't found the right person."
Max scrutinized you but didn't press the topic further. Instead, he took a sip of his water, his eyes never leaving your face. Max wasn't buying your nonchalant attitude. He leaned back in his chair, still watching you closely. "I don't believe you. You're a beautiful woman, and yet you're single."
The compliment caught you off guard. Coming from Max Verstappen, the three-time FIA Formula One World Champion, it was a lot to take in. Trying to keep your cool, you retorted, "You don't have to flatter me, Max. I know I'm not some supermodel or something."
Max's lips curled up into a sly smile. He leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who said anything about comparing you to a supermodel?" he teased.
You felt your heart skip a beat at his proximity. He was even more attractive up close, with his sharp features and those intense blue eyes. Despite your best attempts to keep your cool, you found yourself blushing again.
"Come on, Schatje," Max said, his voice dropping an octave. "Just tell me why you don't have a boyfriend."
The intensity in Max's eyes was almost overwhelming. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, feeling increasingly flustered under his gaze. Why was he so insistent on this topic? You tried to come up with a witty retort, a clever way to deflect, but your mind was drawing a blank. His intense gaze made it hard to think straight. "It's not a big deal, Max," you finally managed to say, your voice betraying your growing nervousness.
"Bullshit." He leaned back in his chair, studying you once again. "You're avoiding the question. There must be a reason why you don't have a boyfriend."
Max's persistence made you feel inexplicably flustered. He was so adamant about knowing the reason behind your single status. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a convincing answer that wouldn't give away your secret. But the more you fidgeted and avoided his gaze, the more he seemed to be onto you. "Come on, y/n,â he coaxed again, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his legs. "Just give me a straight answer."
Max's smirk widened as he saw the effect he was having on you. He could tell he was making you nervous, and that only made him more determined to get the answer he wanted. "You're making this even more suspicious, you know," he said, his voice laced with gentle mockery. "The more you avoid the question, the more interested I become."
There was something about the way Max said that that sent a shiver down your spine. Was he just teasing you, or was there a hint of genuine interest in his voice? It was hard to tell. "You're relentless, you know that?" you mumbled, trying to cover your nerves with sarcasm.
Max chuckled, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. "I can be very persistent when I want something."
Max's admission sent a flutter through your stomach. He was relentless in his pursuit of an answer, and it was both frustrating and exhilarating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" you retorted, aiming for a tone of sarcasm.
Max chuckled at your attempt at sarcasm. He seemed unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixated on you. "I do, usually," he agreed. "But you're proving to be quite the challenge, y/n."
He took in your flushed cheeks and shifting eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.
Max's gaze seemed to pierce through you, reading your every reaction. "You're blushing like a schoolgirl, Schatje," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
His observant nature was both impressive and irritating. You tried to compose yourself, to appear unfazed by his words. But the more he teased, the more flustered you became.
The sound of your phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. âShit,â you muttered, âItâs Christian. I better-â
âYeah, you should answer that,â he said, âI think I'm going to call it a night. It was simply lovely to have such a conversation with you, Liefâ
You watched as Max stood from the table, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he stretched his arms over his head. The way his shirt pulled tight against his muscles didnât escape your notice, but you quickly turned your focus to your phone. Christianâs name flashed on the screen, a reminder that despite the playful teasing and lingering tension, you were still on assignment.
Clearing your throat, you answered the call, doing your best to sound professional. âHey, Christian. Whatâs up?â
Max lingered by the doorway to the bedroom, his blue eyes still watching you as he leaned casually against the frame. The man was frustratingly calm and composed, as if he hadnât just spent the last several minutes flustering you beyond belief.
âJust checking in. Wanted to make sure everythingâs running smoothly with you and Max,â Christianâs voice came through the speaker.
âYeah, everythingâs fine,â you replied, glancing at Max again. He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the conversation. âWeâre just going over the cover story. Making sure weâre on the same page for tomorrow.â
âGood, good. Remember, we need you two to look convincing as a couple. This retreat is high-profile, and we canât afford any slip-ups. Play the part, but donât overdo it,â Christian said.
You nodded, even though he couldnât see you. âGot it. Weâll be convincing.â
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set your phone down, releasing a breath you hadnât realized you were holding. Max was still standing in the doorway, his gaze soft but unreadable.
âYou okay?â he asked, his voice quieter now, almost concerned.
âYeah,â you replied, though your heart still raced from the earlier tension. âJust⌠trying to make sure I donât mess this up.â
Max pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to you. âYou wonât. Youâre doing great, Schatje. Better than I expected, actually.â
The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybeâjust maybeâthere was more behind his words than simple encouragement. But you couldnât afford to let your hopes get the better of you. This was a job. Nothing more.
âWell, I guess I should get some sleep too,â you said, standing up from the table. âBig day tomorrow.â Max nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the bed in the other room. âRight. About the bedâŚâ
You froze, realizing that you had been so caught up in the conversation earlier that you hadnât given the sleeping arrangement much thought. But now, with the two of you standing there in a hotel room alone, the reality of sharing a bed with Max Verstappen hit you like a freight train.
âI can take the couch,â he offered quickly, sensing your hesitation.
âNo, Max. Itâs fine. Weâre supposed to be a couple, right? Couples share beds.â You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.
Maxâs lips quirked into a small smile. âTrue. But I donât want to make you uncomfortable.â
You shook your head, summoning what little courage you had left. âIâll be fine. Itâs just sleeping. No big deal.â
Max didnât argue, but there was a flicker of something in his eyesâsomething unreadable. He gestured towards the bedroom. âLadies first.â
You swallowed hard and walked towards the bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Max followed close behind, and as you both climbed into the bed, the space between you felt like an ocean. You were hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.
Max lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, while you kept to your side, facing away from him. The silence was thick, the air filled with unspoken thoughts.
âGoodnight, y/n,â he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
âGoodnight, Max,â you replied, your voice tight with nerves.
You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep. But the warmth of Maxâs body next to you, the steady rhythm of his breathingâit was all too distracting. You tried to push the thoughts away, reminding yourself that this was all pretend. That Max Verstappen didnât see you as anything more than a colleague helping him out.
But as the minutes ticked by, sleep continued to evade you, and you couldnât help but wonderâwhat if?
What if this wasnât just pretend? What if Max felt the same pull, the same unspoken connection that you did? What if, somewhere in the midst of this fake relationship, something real was beginning to bloom?
You shook your head at the thought, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining such a ridiculous idea. Max was a superstar, a world champion, and you were just⌠you.
But as you lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you, it was hard to ignore the tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest.
Maybeâjust maybeâthere was more to this story than either of you realized.
You shifted slightly in bed, careful not to disturb Max, who was still lying quietly beside you. You glanced over at him, only to find that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.
You shook your head, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. "Too much on my mind, I guess."
Max smiled faintly. "Same here."
There was a brief silence between you, and in the quiet of the night, it felt like the weight of unspoken words was suffocating. You wanted to ask him if this was all just a game to him, if he felt the same tension you did, but you were too afraid of the answer.
Instead, you settled for something safer. "Do you ever get tired of it? The pressure, the constant spotlight?"
Max turned his head fully towards you, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes. Itâs part of the job, though. Iâve learned to live with it. But yeah, there are days when it gets overwhelming."
You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I get that. Itâs hard to find balance when the whole world is watching."
Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls between you two were crumbling. "Yeah. But itâs not all bad, you know? There are people who make it easier."
You looked at him, your heart fluttering at the implication of his words. Was he talking about you? Or was this just part of his charm?
Before you could respond, Max shifted closer, closing the small gap between you. His proximity made your heart race, and you held your breath as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.
"You make it easier, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.
Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no more pretending, no more acting for the sake of the mission. It was just the two of you, lying in the dark, and suddenly, it felt like everything you had been holding back was on the verge of spilling over.
"Max," you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words.
But before you could say anything more, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. You imagined Max kissing you before, but didnât think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He mustâve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered. You never really stood a chance before him.Â
âSo, you like me? Was that why you kissed me, or, â You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. âIâm sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldnât have said that because we have a whole acting and pretending thing ahead and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.â
Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, âYeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and teasing you.â He said. âYou know Kelly dumped me because I remembered your coffee order when we were at the hospitality not hers,â
You stared at Max in shock, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Kelly dumped him over... you?
"You remembered my coffee order?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Max chuckled softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as he held your gaze. "Yeah," he replied. "Every single time. It wasn't something I planned to memorize, but I guess I couldn't help it. Youâve always been in the back of my mind, even when I didnât realize it." You blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. All the late-night conversations, the teasing, the moments when his touch lingered a little longer than necessaryâit all clicked into place. He wasnât just playing a part. He liked you. Max liked you.
"You really are an idiot," you said with a breathy laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. The tension between you two, the unspoken feelings, had been weighing on you for so long, but now everything felt so clear.
Max grinned, his face inches from yours. "Takes one to know one," he teased, his lips brushing against yours again.
You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. This time it wasnât tentative or cautious. It was everything you had been holding back, all the feelings you had suppressed because you thought it was just part of the job, part of the act.
But this was real. You were real.
When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Maxâs forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hands.
"Guess weâre going to have to make this mission even more believable now, huh?" Max murmured, his voice filled with that same teasing warmth.
You smiled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "We might have to practice a little more, just to make sure weâre convincing enough."
Max laughed, a sound that sent warmth coursing through your veins. "I think we can manage that."Â
A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Max Verstappen liked you. Wanted you. âPlease do,â you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.
He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.
Like he wanted to own you.
His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. âIf you want me to stop, I will.â
Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. âDon't stop,â you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.
Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. âAre you trying to hide from me?â He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.
You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.
âMaybe? I mean, look at you and look atâŚâ
You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the driver was an entirely different level of gorgeous. âDon't,â he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. âYou're so fucking beautiful.â
The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth, suckling gently as his hands continued to explore. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Please,"
He chuckled, the vibration making your breast hum in his mouth. "Please what, baby?" He asked, his free hand moving to your other breast, pinching the nipple gently. You whimpered, your hips bucking against the floor. "Please touch me, please kiss me, please fuck me,"
âYou are such a needy baby,â
"His hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against your core. "You want me to touch you here?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing your folds through your underwear."
âYouâre the reason I don't have a boyfriend,â you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?
He paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of confusion and realization. "Because of me?" He asked softly. "Because I'm always around, and no one else can compare?" He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching you for the first time.
His finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before pushing inside gently. You let out a sigh of relief, your hips tilting to meet his finger. "Is that it? Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, curling his finger inside you, rubbing your g-spot.Â
âY-yes⌠It's you, has always been you, Max.â you gasped.
He added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. His voice was low, filled with a dominance you'd never heard from him before. "So, every time you went on a date, every time they kissed you, it was me you thought of?âÂ
His fingers moved faster, curling and rubbing against your g-spot. "And every time they tried to touch you, hold your hand, it was my hand you wished was there instead?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "Is that it, baby?â
But what can you say more besides moaning at his touch.Â
He grinned wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can't speak because you're so turned on, thinking about me instead of them. Isn't that right?" His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles onto your swollen nub. "Say it.â
But youâre not thinking straight. Youâre not thinking straight at all when all he did was teasing you like that.
He growled, his face hovering over your core. "Say it, or I'll stop." His fingers paused, buried deep inside you. You squirmed, your hips bucking, silently begging him to continue. "Say it," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.
âMaxâ you breathed, clenching your legs together.
He tsked disapprovingly, prying your legs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not until you say what I want to hear." His golden eyes bore into yours, filled with desire and determination. "Say, 'Only you, Max. Only you.'" His fingers remained motionless.Â
âJusâ need you. Need you to make it better. âM yours Daddy, only yours.âÂ
His expression softened, and he rewarded you by moving his fingers again, crooking them inside you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice gentle. "Now, wrap your legs around my shoulders. I'm going to make you come with my mouth.â
You eagerly wrapped your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his neck. He lowered his face between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet flesh. "You're so ready for me, baby," he murmured, his thumbs spreading you open. "So swollen and needy.â
And without further teasing, he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked. Hard. His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that perfect spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Oh god oh god oh god,"
Max smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue. "Feel good, baby?" he breathed. His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions. You didn't know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Max flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking. "You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?" His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the sheets and spread you even wider for the taking.
He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.
And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside.
The act surprised your lover almost as much as it did you-not quite, but almost -upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him. When you whined a loud, protracted, 'FUCK!' he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this. Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Max knew you were close. He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else's. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.
 "Come on my face, Liefde. Show me what a good girl you are.â
And suddenly you were coming undone all over himâcrying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his head you feared you might snap it in two.
He slowly licked you clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "You taste even better than you look," he murmured, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours. "And you look... like a masterpiece.
You took his face in closer and sucked your arousal off his tongue. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his, where your juices had no doubt collected too. That slutty, fucked-out look you gave himâlike your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm heâd given youâwas everything Max couldâve wanted.
Max's eyes widened in surprise as you sucked his face clean, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your head in place. He groaned into your mouth, his own arousal spiking at the filthy, careless way you were using your tongue.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to explore and taste every inch of it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer against him, letting you feel the hard length of his cock pressed up against you.
âI need to fuck you now,â he said.
His voice was rough with desire, his patience worn thin. He reached between your legs, grabbing your thigh and tossing your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. "Hold on, Schatje,"
He slammed into you with no warning, burying his cock deep inside your pussy in one brutal thrust. You cried out in surprise and pleasure, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely. He grabbed your other thigh, holding you in place as he started pounding into you with ruthless intensity.
âFeel a little stretch down there, huh?â
You didnât have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Max kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his dick wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,
âThatâs daddyâs sweet, needy little slut.â
âMy perfect fucking Schatje, so good at taking my cock.â
Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but thatâs exactly how Max wanted you.
"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.
He pistons his hips, fucking you with abandon, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches up to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly as he snarls in your ear. "Gonna fill this fucking pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine.â
His grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to pound into you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "Not till I say so, baby. You gonna wait for me, aren't you?" He grunted, his own release barreling down on him.Â
âDaddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!â You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open.
âI'm Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?â Max practically growls, not missing a beat while still thrusting in you.
He grunted approvingly at your desperate pleas, his face contorting with effort as he held back his own release. "Not... till... I... say... so..." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, his voice harsh with command. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you beg."
You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. âPlease, daddy.âÂ
âJesus, youâre making me so wet. Youâre such a little whore for me.â
âIâm your whore. Always, daddy, please!â
His face contorted with pleasure as you finally gave him what he wanted. "Good girl," he hissed, his pace becoming frenzied as he finally let himself go. "You're gonna take it all, aren't you? Gonna take every last drop?"Â
âYes!!â You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-you-daddy-I'm gonna-"Â
â Iâm 'yours sweet girl, all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.
"Want your cum daddy" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.
"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Max right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair now disheveled.Â
âDo you mean it? After this is all over?â Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-
"Of course Liefje" Max presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"
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yourusername first day at work, welcome to the playground - newbie.
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user1 what a dream job đ
user2 I wanna be there toooooo đ
urfriend my baby's dream finally came true
yourusername wish me luck bestie
user4 what is your job?
yourusername i'm the new intern in social media for RBR
liked by redbullracing, yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 3,962,028 others
maxverstappen1 this new (intern) social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently the fans like me doing thisâŚIâm yet to be convinced đ might need a long nap after this.
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username12 fyi we absolutely love photos like these đ
landonorris I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post đđđ
username13 thank you the new intern for convincing max to bless us with a world of meme worthy content, i beg for more
username14 he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???
username15 pls promote ur new intern to be ur lifelong admin @/redbullracing
redbullracing let me ask my boss first ferrari we still have open position for the new intern, wanna join? redbullracing back off mercedesamgf1 or u can work for us instead, why be an intern when u can be our new admin for a very demure, very mindfull team! username16 are they battling for the new intern đ username17 on track and offtrack battle
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yourusername life lately as the new intern at @/redbullracing
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username18 so u r the new intern that blessed us with so much max's meme
yourusername no need to tks me đ¤ username18 u r so pretty, might be my new wife
username19 oooooh max's in the like
username20 aww so cute
username3 the outfits slay
landonorris uhhhÂ
username21 WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE maxverstappen1 she's not on ur team, mate landonorris so i can not say hello to her ???
yourbff you are so effortlessly gorgeous please đŤ and whose hand is that wifey
username22 wtf is max and lando beefing in the comment
username23 shut the f up she's a swiftie OMG i need a challenge with max and checo with taylor
yourusername working on it, but these two know nothing 'bout the pop culture đ username24 OMG the devil works hard but u gotta work harder girl
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redbullracing Taylor Swift 1 - 0 Chestappen
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maxverstappen1 do not shame ur drivers publicly like that
redbullracing we do not đ¤ landonorris how can they not know about THE TAYLOR georgerussell63 i would have won this charlesleclerc if the ferrari's challenge could be this easy
username30 they cant even score a point
username31 OMG Chestappen
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f1wags new wag alert!!! This might be the new gf of Max and she also works for Red Bull too
username32 OMG is she y/n the old intern now admin
f1wags that's her
username33 i follow her too and she is soooooooo pretty
username34 her new ideas for all their challenges are cool too
username1 đđ
username2 BOOOOđ
username3 so itâs official then huh?
username13 BODY IS TEAA
username24 HOLYYY
liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 3,344,234 others
maxverstappen1 i think this called hard launch and yes this is my new gf @/yourusername took all the pics since she thought i'm not very good at it
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#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen smut#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#f1 blurb#red bull racing#red bull f1#red bull formula 1#red bull team
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casual (1) || gojo satoru x reader
chapter 1: i like the way you kiss me
synopsis: Getting recruited for a double position as a teacher for Jujutsu High in Tokyo and a strategist, tasked with assigning missions to sorcerers in the region is the perfect situation for you. It pays well, it's well regarded, and it's as safe as possible â by sorcerer standards, anyway.
There is one problem though, and his name is Gojo Satoru. The one who's supposed to collaborate with you and answer to you.
The one you can't keep your hands off...
word count: 9.5k
genre: 18+, friends with benefits to lovers, coworkers to lovers, canon divergence, smut, emotional slow burn but they fuck like rabbits
warnings/tags (chapter): fem!reader (she/her pronouns, reader is afab), takes place ~5 years before jjk0, teacher!reader, sorcerer!reader, canon-typical violence, mild angst, smut (semi-public sex, fingering [fem receiving], vaginal sex, sorta dom!gojo, corruption kink if you squint), mentioned slut shaming (not the sexy kind), gojo satoru is a little shit
A/N: This is quite the Behemoth of a first chapter, I'm sorry to say. I love really long chapters, but I can only hope you all do too and this isn't too intimidating! This is a fic I've had in mind for ages and finally got around to start an outline for and actually write it. There are actually a couple of drabbles here and there on my blog for this couple already, happening at various points of their relationship.
I really hope you will enjoy this first chapter!
âMake use of Satoru Gojo however you see fit.â
Such are the first words spoken to you by the higher-ups, at the end of an exhausting recruitment process. You nod sharply at the instruction.
âDuly noted.â
Truth be told, you donât see why they need to specify it. You had assumed that went without saying from the very beginning.
The job offer had, at first glance, been for a strategist who would work directly under the higher-ups for the region of Tokyo. Devising teams, advising the council, and assigning missions were supposed to be the main tasks you would have to fulfill.
âSupposedâ because, when you were one of only three candidates left, the higher-ups had revealed that there was, in fact, a second role you would be expected to perform. One that you had not imagined would be available for decades.
A new teaching position at the Tokyo Jujutsu High School was opening up, though you couldnât understand why for the life of you. You had no connection to the establishment yourself, having left Japan as a child and trained abroad your whole life, never returning for more than a couple of months at a time, yet you knew, as did the entirety of the sorcerer world, that Satoru Gojo had been appointed there less than a year before. Well, rumor had it that he had appointed himself, and you had to wonder if that was why they were keen to have a more⌠traditional teacher by his side, since firing him was an option.
In that case, your lack of ties to Satoru Gojo, Masamichi Yaga and to the Jujutsu Headquarters could explain why your name ended up being the last one on the ballot. You were the best placed to be an independent monitor.
The distorted voice keeps going, bringing you back to the present.
âUnless stated otherwise, always send him to battle first.â
You school your face so you do not let any emotion appear, though the statement surprises you. You have to assume that they donât mean for any mission you receive, because that would be catastrophically ineffective. Then again, sending him on Grade 1 missions, if he is available, makes some sense.
âReport to us if you encounter difficulties with him,â the voice adds before falling silent without elaborating.
You understand, from the finality of their tone, that you have been dismissed, and bow your head, your movements polite and sober.
âThank you for the trust you are placing in me. I will not disappoint you.â
âWe know you wonât,â another sepulchral voice answers.
In the dark, candle-lit room, it sounds sinister enough to chill you to the bone. You wait just a second longer, in case something needs to be added, before turning on your heels and walking away. No one calls you back, and youâre more relieved about leaving the room than you would like to admit.
Outside, the summer sun is high and bright. You tilt your head backwards and close your eyes to let its rays warm your face. It will take a while before the cold instilled in you in that meeting room dissipates.
Youâre expected in Jujutsu Tech by the end of August. Being a teacher there is as close to the ideal position as it gets, for a sorcerer. The pay is excellent, the risks minimal, and it commends great respect from the society at large. You have no doubt that, had the offer been for that position in the first place, numerous sorcerers far more qualified for teaching than you are would have thrown their hats in the ring. You wouldnât have made it past the first interview.
You got lucky. Just this once, youâre going in the right direction.
You inhale deeply. For the first time in a long time, you no longer envision your life as an endless successions of missions, countries, and houses that never become homes.
For the first time in the long time, you think you have a future.
There is a spring in your step when you make your way down the stairs, away from this freezing place and the ghouls that haunt it.
Behind you, the Headquarters; ahead, Jujutsu Tech.
Masamichi Yaga is a cautious man. His handshake is warm and firm when he greets you, and though his voice is calm and steady as he guides you through the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, he remains evasive. He provides all the information you might need, answers any question you have when you ask them without missing a beat, and yet you can tell he is guarded, keeping you at armâs length.
You cannot determine why that is with certainty, though you have a handful of hypotheses. It could just be that he isnât used to the presence of strangers. Dealing with a total stranger is a rarity within sorcerer society, even more so in Japan. You doubt that he would know anyone who could talk about you, let alone vouch for you. You understand why that would make you a suspicious character.
Another option is that you were forced onto him as a member of his staff by the higher-ups, though you havenât heard anything about that. With you being a complete outsider, he would not have any valid reason to outright reject your presence, not when his only teacher is frequently gone for days at a time, but that would not mean that heâd be pleased with it â or view you as trustworthy, for that matter.
The third possibility, of course, is that he just finds you off-putting.
âColdâ, thatâs how you are often described by the people around you. You donât do it intentionally, but you also cannot pinpoint what it is that you do âwrongâ. Something about your tone, your expressions, or lack thereof, your cold eyes, the way your mouth naturally curves downwards.
That and, of course, the trail of bad omens that you bring with you everywhere you go.
These donât tend to be active problems when it comes to sorcerers. With normal humans, now, itâs a different story. Oh, there are exceptions, who find that this all makes you intriguing, but it typically makes it hard to build actual connections with other people. You wouldnât normally care, but in a situation where you have to collaborate with others, you could see that becoming an issue.
You had seen that coming, of course â it wasnât like it was new information to you. As a result, you had made sure to be on your very best behavior from the moment youâd stepped foot within Jujutsu Tech grounds. You had nodded with interest, you had reminded yourself to smile, you had asked all the right questions, and yet you could feel that you had not once managed to turn yourself into a likeable person.
Ah, well. Not being likeable would not stop you from doing your job right.
âIâll introduce you to the rest of teaching staff,â Yaga announces, his voice deep, as he reaches a new door. His hand is hovering over the doorknob when he stills, turning to look at you. âAre you ready for this just now? They were both students here, but I assume this can all be overwhelming for a newbie.â
That is a kind sentiment.
âIâm okay.â Then, because answering in monosyllables is not what likeable people are supposed to do, you add: âI read the files available to familiarize myself with the school grounds before coming here.â
His eyebrows jump up behind his glasses, but itâs followed by a hearty chuckle.
âYouâve come prepared.â He nods, appreciative. âGood. It will be nice to have someone who takes their job seriously around here.â
You donât have the time to question the sentence before he opens the door.
The room is small and reeks of cigarette smoke. In the middle of it, a desk, and behind it, sprawled on an elegant black chair, a white-haired man that you recognize at first glance. You let your eyes slide over him. You wouldnât want to look too, um, curious, just yet.
The brown-haired woman with the long white coat who is perched on a window sill, doing her very best to look inconspicuous, is the one responsible for the smell. You identify her as Shoko Ieiri, school doctor and reverse cursed technique prodigy. Next to you, Yaga sighs.
âShoko,â he protests with a paternal disapproval, âI thought youâd quit smoking?â
âI did,â she answers, staring at him, her eyes dark and tired, âand then I had to regrow a lung. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to regrow internal organs?â
A light laugh comes from the man in the middle of the room, and you consider that this gives you permission to look at him without coming off like youâre gawking.
He has his feet propped up on the desk, and heâs using them to push himself backwards in a precarious balance. White hair spills on the dark leather, long arms hang on both sides of the chair, and he hasnât bothered to so much as glance in your direction so far â or at least, you donât think he has, because white bandages are wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.
Even without being able to spot their signature blue, you know who he is. There isnât one sorcerer in Japan, nor in the whole world, who doesnât know his name.
Satoru Gojo, in the flesh.
âMaybe if you hadnât cheated your way through medical school, it would be easier, donât ya think?â he asks Ieiri with fond familiarity.
âDonâtââ Yaga takes two steps into the room, kicks the legs from underneath the chair. ââsit at my desk, Satoru.â
Effortlessly, Gojo jumps off the chair before it hits the floor and lands on his feet, facing Yaga. He is just as tall as the Principal, and from the wide grin on his face, itâs obvious that he is thrilled to have gotten a rise out of him.
âThen get me my own office already, what are you waiting for?â
âWeâll see which one of you gets an office first,â Yaga sniffs, and it doesnât sound like Gojo is at the top of his list. âFirst, there is someone you need to meet.â
Ieiri has been observing you since youâve walked into the room, not looking away when you had met her eyes. Yagaâs words have Gojo finally directing his attention to you, though, and something in the room shifts. You canât see them, yet you know his eyes are on you, dissecting you and your cursed energy, collecting every possible bit of information on you. He walks past Yaga, burying his hands in his pockets as he approaches you. He has an easy smile placated on his lips, but you know when youâre being judged.
Behind him, both Ieiri and Yaga are still, tense. Yagaâs jaw is set, and Ieiri fiddles with a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, clearly itching for a new one. Ah, so this is the real test.
You donât back off, staying rooted in your spot. He towers over you easily, and you have to tilt your head back just to look at him. Youâd heard he was a handsome man, but you hadnât expected it to be so obvious, even with the bandages on. He studies you, sharp jaw clenching, before the dazzling smile returns.
âRight! Youâre the substitute teacher, arenât you?â
His voice is light and airy, the previous tension completely absent from it. You blink.
âShe will be teaching instead of you when youâre away on missions,â Yaga intervenes, âbut that doesnât make her a substitute. Câmon, Satoru, weâve had this conversation already.â
On that last sentence, his voice turns into a threatening rumble.
âSure, sure,â Gojo dismisses him without looking back, âand youâre the one who will be giving me missions as well, right?â
He keeps his tone cheerful, makes it sound like heâs just trying to have a conversation, but there is an edge in his voice, a bite. You cannot tell what he is trying to achieve with the question, though, or why he is being hostile, so you choose not to engage.
âIndeed,â you answer, bowing your head politely. âIt is an honor to be meeting you all.â You make quick work of giving your name and briefly mentioning that you hadnât grown up in Japan.
Youâre met with silence, Gojoâs lips pressed together as he tries to read you. You do your very best not to give him anything to sink his teeth into.
âYour familyâs known for their precognition, arenât they?â Ieiri asks from the other side of the room.
âForesight, yesâ, you reply. Your answer is rehearsed, polished. Your family has somewhat of a reputation within the sorcerer world, but fortune tellers are a dime a dozen, even among non-sorcerers, and the results vary greatly â itâs not an ability that inspires trust, even for a legitimate sorcerer like you. You donât wish to reveal too much of yourself just yet. âI look forward to working with you.â
A smile finally forms on her lips.
âWell, donât take this the wrong way, but I hope I wonât be seeing too much of you. Would be a shame if I had to patch you up. If you want to go out drinking though, just let me know. I know all the best bars in the city!â
âShe does, and sheâs banned from half of them,â Gojo chimes in. Now that his focus is back on her, his tone is softer; teasing, still, but no longer harsh. âShe could use an actual designated driver instead of exploiting her kouhais though, donât you think, Shoko?â
She laughs at that, sincerely, her eyes creasing.
âFuck you, Gojo,â she answers fondly.
âI apologize for these two,â Yaga says, wincing at the coarse language. âWeâre very happy to have you here. Iâm sure it will do the kids some good, having someone serious to take after.â
âHurtful,â Gojo protests, pouting. âTheyâre good kids,â he adds, directing his attention back to you. He sounds proud now, no trace of his earlier defiance left. âTheyâll be great soon. They just need a little push to get there.â
At that, you nod.
âOf course. Iâll do my very best to help them on that path.â
There is a second, between the moment when you finish speaking and the moment when a wide smile splits his face. In that second, his lips part, and you feel his eyes plunge into you, digging into the very core of your being. He doesnât look pleased. No, he is sizing you up, and you doubt you measure up to his expectations as well as you should. Youâre the only one facing him, though, and when he smiles, just a little too late, it all vanishes like it never happened.
âGood to hear! As long as thatâs the case, Iâm sure everything will go smoothly.â
Itâs said differently, but itâs as threatening as the higher-upsâ last words to you. Still, behind Gojo, Yaga heaves a relieved sigh and exchanges a look with Ieiri that tells you just how worried heâd been about your arrival. To him, it looks like the situation is resolved.
âWhy donât we all go and get a drink together to welcome you properly, if weâre done here?â he asks, walking over and slapping Gojo in the back.
âSounds good to me,â Ieiri hums.
âAs long as we go somewhere with good desserts, Iâm in,â Gojo declares, intertwining his fingers at the back  his head.
âYou better be, Satoru,â Yaga grumbles, âyouâre paying.â
âNot sure the Gojo clan has enough money for your appetite,â he sighs dramatically, âbut I mean, I can try.â Then, eyeing you, âYou coming or what?â
âOf course,â you say, swallowing around the unexpected knot in your throat. âThank you for having me.â
You follow them cautiously, keeping quiet as the banter continues, hands held behind your back, observing. You had not expected to feel welcome here. You could have done without Gojoâs strange hostility, but with your track record, you had expected far worse.
âLet me know if Satoru makes your life harder, alright? Iâll talk some sense into him,â Ieiri tells you, placing a cigarette between her lips.
âAnd Iâll beat it into him if I have to,â Yaga adds, snatching it from Ieiriâs mouth and crumpling it between his fingers.
âIâd love to see you try,â Gojo grins.
âNoted,â you answer, âbut Iâm sure everything will be fine.â
This last part is a lie. Even as heâs joking around with everyone, you know he is still observing you, courtesy of the Six Eyes, watching your every move, waiting to find a fault somewhere so he can figure out what to do with you. You canât blame him. You will be the one sending him into action, after all, even if the higher-ups would review missions assigned to grade 1 sorcerers and special grade sorcerers. Of course heâd need some time to figure out whether or not youâre trustworthy.
Not that his opinion on the subject matters to you. Youâre not the type of person who needs other to like you. You donât even need him to trust you. All he has to do is let you do your job.
Everything else is futile.
It is no surprise that the first few weeks at your job are slow. The end of summer and the beginning of fall are always quiet periods for sorcerers, and as a result, you donât have many missions to hand out just yet. The few, low-level ones available in Tokyo are systematically claimed by Gojo before you can look into them, as training for his students.
âKids gotta learn somehow, right?â he tells you with a grin the first time it happens.
Heâs just waltzed into your classroom and heâs leaning over the desk, elbow conveniently resting on the mission files. You try not to think about how brazenly handsome he is right now, even when he is openly provoking you. You stare at his bandages, right where his eyes must be. He may be smiling at you, but there is no sincerity behind it, no joy, and that wasnât really a question.
You shrug.
âAlright.â
The smile falters.
âYeah? Thatâs alright with you?â
âCertainly. If you think these are good exercises for them, and if you plan on being there to supervise them, I donât see any issue with it. Just return the files if there are any they canât clear, and Iâll transfer them to the appropriate person.â
He tilts his head. Watching. Assessing.
âYou should join us!â he exclaims cheerfully, smile back in its place, clapping his hands together. âThe more, the merrier, isnât that right?â
Oookay. He is testing you. The infuriating part of that is, you have no idea what he is testing you for, what he wants you to display â or fail to display. Trying to see if youâre good enough of a teacher? You have nothing to prove here, certainly not to someone who has been on the job for such a short time. Then again, you donât see any harm in humoring him.
âNo problem. Just let me know when you intend to take care of them, and Iâll be there.â
His smile widens, but youâre not sure if it means youâve succeeded or failed his test.
âGood,â he hums. âIâll be taking that, then.â
In one swift movement, he retrieves the files from your desk, and he walks away with them before you can say anything.
You roll your eyes â this whole song and dance are so unnecessary â but you donât see any reason to stop him, so you just watch him leave. You catch him stopping in the doorway, turning back to look at you. The smile is still dancing on his face, all edge and teeth.
âYouâre not what I expected.â
You stare at him just a moment longer, brow furrowing, before he vanishes and youâre left with nothing to look at.
âNot what he expectedâ. You turn the sentence over in your mind a couple of times, trying to conjure up an image, a personality that would fit better for the role youâre supposed to play, but nothing comes up. You have two roles: teaching the future generation of sorcerers, and assigning missions. If doing one task can facilitate the other, there is no reason not to do it â and you find it even harder to comprehend why he wouldnât have expected you to do just that.
You shake your head, willing his words out of your mind. Youâve never felt the need to meet anyoneâs expectations, so why should you start now?
Taking kids to a cemetery for a mission seems in poor taste, but thatâs not what you tell Gojo when he announces it as his first choice.
âThe mission is for a number of grade four curses and a couple grade three,â you state instead, âbut considering the spot, itâs likely more powerful ones went unnoticed. Are you sure thatâs appropriate for first-years?â
âWell,â he answers, hands casually in his pockets, towering over you with all his height, âit will be good to see how adaptable they are and their abilities in the face of danger. Plus, theyâll have two guardian angels looking after them, wonât they?â
Thereâs that toothy smile again.
You still donât know what it means.
âAs long as youâre here, it will be fine, I guessâ is what you end up answering him with a shrug.
This time, he doesnât say anything as he leaves, doesnât stop to look at you.
You suspect that you said exactly what he was expecting from you.
Contrary to popular belief, cemeteries donât typically harbor powerful curses. The smaller ones are numerous, born out of loss and grief, but the bodies of non-sorcerers donât take the pain they endured with them in the grave. They leave it all over their houses, leaking through the walls and ceilings, seeping through the cracks in the floor, cursing their loved ones.
Cemeteries remain clean.
The exception to that rule is a notable one. In any place where cursed energy accumulates for long enough, there is a risk for it to congregate to the point where strong curses can emerge. This slow growth means they learn to better hide themselves, and it makes them harder to spot and eliminate. In an ideal world, there would be a sorcerer expedition every other decade to ensure nothing big can develop, but sorcerer numbers being what they are, that is impossible to ensure. There is also a high likelihood that it would be useless anyway, a waste of time and resources, far too much firepower for the bunch of fly heads sorcerers would find.
Still, you keep an eye on the three, baby-faced first years, and chew on the inside of your cheek as they start to make their way through the alleys.
You donât like this.
âDonât tell me youâre scared,â Gojo says lightly, next to you. âYouâre a grade one sorcerer, arenât you? Thereâs nothing more powerful than that here. Iâd know it if there was.â
âMy evaluation took place in Europe. I donât know if I would have ranked that high, had I taken it here.â
âAw, câmon, if even you think youâre that weak, whoâs going to believe youâre strong?â
The sentence surprises a chuckle out of you. A grade two sorcerer is nothing to turn your nose at, but you canât say youâre shocked that the Satoru Gojo would equate that status to weakness. He is so far off the scale that he would break it altogether if it wasnât for the convenient, murky âspecial gradeâ title.
You look at him, find him already turned in your direction. His lips are parted in surprise. You donât realize it, but you have somehow managed the feat of getting Gojoâs undivided attention. The Six Eyes are focused on you, dissecting you, taking you in. This isâ new. People are predictable. Itâs not always a bad thing, though it gets a little boring. Youâ you keep catching him off guard while doing things that seem completely natural to you.
For once, youâre the one who is smiling, and heâs stunned into silence.
âIt doesnât matter to me, whether or not people think Iâm strong. All I care about isââ
Teeth reflected in a pupil. Muscles like lead. A hand raised in defense. Flesh that turns into mist, there one second, gone the next. Clicks like a laugh, coming from behind. âMorino Iori â 1954-2010â, splattered with blood. A curse with its head thrown back, an arm coming out of its open mouth, disappearing when it swallows. Tears dripping down from the chin to the ground, barely diluting the puddle of blood that has formed there.
The rest of your sentence is lost when you turn around and take off running.
There is a string of cursed energy pulling you in the right direction, one that found its way to you, one that the cursed technique engraved in your brain knew how to decode. Youâre old enough not to question it, not to struggle with the vision, and following it comes as a second nature. Just as you get there, you see Sota rounding the corner slowly, looking around, squinting, searching for something he isnât finding. Your fingers close around the weapon at your waist, withholding your cursed energy â for now.
To a non-sorcerer, you would appear to be holding nothing but a stick. A sorcerer would know itâs a cursed weapon, though most would not be able to figure out its use.
At least, not until the curse emerges from the fog, only two steps behind Sota. In a flash, you let cursed energy irrigate your weapon, and a blade of sheer energy appears. The stick is now a scythe.
Itâs in poor taste, in a cemetery, but you donât linger on that.
Youâre between the boy and the curse before he can turn around. The curseâs abilities must allow it to hide its presence, would allow it to disappear back into nothingness a mere moment after the kill, but you donât give it the opportunity to do that. The scythe cuts through it like butter, splitting it in two. The two halves havenât yet hit the ground that youâve already lowered your weapon, emptying it from cursed energy as soon as youâre done.
âAre you okay?â you ask Sota, turning around to face him as you anchor it back to your waist.
âUm,â he says. He doesnât look scared, just mildly surprised. âYes. Iâm fine.â
âWhat happened to seeing his abilities in the face of danger?â
You bite your lip, glancing at Gojo. He is standing atop a headstone, balancing without any struggle and watching the two of you with unmistakable amusement.
âHe freezes in the face of danger,â you answer.
Sotaâs eyes go wide, and he turns away from you, shaking his head. He isnât doing it for you, though, but for Gojo.
âThatâs not true! Iâve exorcised curses before, youâve seen me do it!â
Heâs desperate to prove himself to his teacher, and something sinks within you. You donât need a vision to tell you what will happen next.
âThe kidâs got a point,â Gojo lets you know. âThat precognition thing of yours, how accurate is it?â
There was a time when those words would have sent you reeling back. Even now, when youâre expecting them, you feel the blood withdrawing from your face as he speaks them. But you swallow, school your features. You know better now. Fighting now will only delay the inevitable. Gojo was standing next to you anyway. With the Six Eyes, he must know for certain that you hadnât activated any sort of cursed technique when you took off running. That alone would be enough to make him suspicious, if he didnât already doubt you.
Cassandraâs Bargain. Tell the truth, and save only those who believe you.
Unlike others, explaining the workings of your cursed technique doesnât make it more effective â it makes it useless. If you try to tip the scale in your favor now, you will all pay a high price for it later.
You know what Gojo is implying, about your accuracy. Most people who have foresight see a number of futures. If he suspects you saw one in which Sota died, your actions must make sense to him.
âEnough to keep me safe,â you answer, tight-lipped.
âThatâs what I thought. Letâs give the kid a fighting chance from now, what dâya say?â
Thatâs not how it works, but it doesnât matter. At least Sota gets to keep his arm â until next time.
What a waste.
âOf course,â you say with a nod.
You would do it again in a heartbeat if you had to, but you no longer feel threads of cursed energy, threads of fate, pulling you in one direction or the other. Oh, theyâre all around you, and youâd know much more if you activated your cursed technique, but you know how it functions. That had to be the worst that could happen. Things should be fine now.
âStart running Sota, youâve got some catching up to do!â
âYes, Mr. Gojo, sir!â the kid replies, all but saluting. âI wonât disappoint you.â
Gojoâs laugh at that, as the kid takes off sprinting, couldnât be more genuine.
You lean against the pristine Morino Iori headstone â itâs disrespectful, and you formulate a silent apology, but all you can do is hope they wonât mind. Youâre exhausted, and yet the tension is keeping your body in hypervigilance, refusing to go away.
Gojo approaches you, hands in his pockets. The ghost of his usual smile is dancing on his lips. For once, though, it doesnât feel mean-spirited.
âWe have to save them if they need us,â he says, voice surprisingly soft, âbut itâs as least as important that we teach them how to fend for themselves.
âI donât disagree with that.â
This kind of reasoning just isnât worth losing an arm over.
Gojo steps closer, leaning towards you, so close his nose is almost touching yours. You suck in a quick breath through your mouth. From up close, itâs much harder to ignore how handsome he is, even without seeing his eyes. You blame your accelerating heart rate on the fact that youâre in a high-stress kind of and youâre particularly pent-up at the moment. If your skin tingles when you feel his breath against it, itâs because of the cold. Must be. Whatever it is, you donât let it show, and you hate that youâre finding it harder to breathe.
âYouâre not what I expected.â
Heâs said it before, but his voice is lower now, deeper, vibrating through your body, and something that you recognize all too well twists, deep in your abdomen.
Desire.
You donât answer. You didnât know what to say the first time, and you sure as fuck have no clue now â donât know what he means, donât know what youâve done that you werenât supposed to, donât know if the interest in his voice betrays the same feelings rushing through you right now. So you glare at him until he laughs, light and airy, and takes a step back.
âIf you need me, Iâll be on top of the temple, watching the kids.â
You wait for him to disappear between the tombs, keeping yourself still, too still, probably, to be inconspicuous, and itâs only once youâre sure heâs gone that you let yourself exhale very, very slowly. The urge to laugh at yourself bubbles inside you, because what the fuck is wrong with you? Itâs not the right time, not the right place, and not even remotely the right person.
Youâre fully aware of all of that, know it in the deepest parts of your soul, and yet your eyes still trail towards the temple. You could imagine that youâre seeing Gojoâs silhouette there, if you didnât know better.
Except you do. You do.
When you look away, you know full well youâre doing it too pointedly.
You donât get a chance to involve yourself in the Kyoto Goodwill Event. With the beginning of fall, files are starting to accumulate. Since youâre still getting your bearings in Tokyo and familiarizing yourself with the sorcerers you can send on missions, that is what you dedicate yourself to.
Or, well, thatâs what youâre told.
You know that youâre more than capable of doing several things at once without botching any of them. Masamichi Yaga and Satoru Gojo are the ones who disagree. Youâre called into Yagaâs office, and Gojo is already there, leaning against the wall behind him. For once, he isnât wearing the bandages, but rectangular sunglasses. Even from behind them, you see the faint glow of his eyes, and it takes a lot â a lot more than it should â not to stare.
âThe students taking part in this yearâs event will be exclusively second and third-years. Satoru knows them well.â
âYeah, and theyâve been training for a that for a while,â Gojo says without missing a beat. Where Yaga is stern and serious, his voice is relaxed and pleasant, lightening the mood without trying to. âThe third-years have already won once, so they know what theyâve got to do for a repeat.â
Thatâs right. Tokyo won last year, under Gojoâs guidance, for the first time since⌠well, since he stopped competing himself, according to what youâve heard.
âSatoru had already started putting this yearâs strategy together by the time you joined Jujutsu Tech,â Yaga adds, trying his best to sound apologetic. âSo thereâs no need to concern yourself with that. Itâs already well-oiled.â
As far as youâre concerned, the only thing thatâs well-oiled here is this routine theyâre performing, all for your sake. You click your tongue, not bothering to hide your annoyance, and watch as Yagaâs fingers curl, as Gojoâs chin lifts and the blueish glow focuses on you. Thereâs politics in the air, you can smell it, with a role you have to play. So they think, at least. Unfortunately, you lack knowledge when it comes to Japanese society, and you cannot quite identify what that role is.
To be fair, you also donât care for it.
âWas it really necessary to waste all of our times with this charade?â
âI beg your pardon?â Yaga asks in response. His voice thunders dangerously. Heâs warning you not to cross a line.
âIf you donât want me involved, you can just say so,â you answer with a shrug. âNow, if youâll excuse me, I have missions to assign.â
You donât wait for him to dismiss you to stand up, rolling your eyes once you have your back turned on them. How bland. Youâve never seen the point of engaging with this kind of theatrics when there are such greater things at play. Having you help the kids come up with a strategy of their own, going over the basics of planning, now that could have been interesting and helpful. Itâs not that you doubt Gojoâs abilities in that domain, you donât, but it is your specialty, and youâve had to learn to survive with resources that are significantly more limited than his. Instead of doing that, in the name of whatever internal conflict is going on here, the kids have been deprived of that experience.
How boring.
Once the door has closed behind you, Gojo lowers his head, shoulders shaking. Yaga turns around, frowning, only to find him quietly laughing to himself.
âTold you she was a weird one,â he says once heâs caught his breath.
âMaybe,â Yaga mumbles, âbut there must be a reason why she was placed here.â
Gojo hums. Outside the office, he follows your cursed energy. It has always been diffuse, fickle, fizzling out around you until it becomes hard to tell where it ends â even for him. Must have something to do with your cursed technique, but he hasnât seen you use that yet. You go straight to your classroom, where you sit behind your desk to work, like you do every day until itâs late in the night.
Yaga is right, of course. There must be a reason. But youâre at least making it fun for him to figure out.
The Kyoto Goodwill Event does not go over well.
Maybe you should get some petty satisfaction from it, but there is none to be found, just a bitter taste in your mouth. Next to you, Utahime, the Kyoto school teacher, does not look up at the screens provided by Grade 1 sorcerer Mei Mei. She has her eyes on her hands, and she is nervously rubbing her fingers. In fact, while a few outsiders who have come to see the game for their own enjoyment exclaim at the studentsâ impressive moves, there is only one member of the schools who seems to be enjoying himself, and that is Principal Gakuganji.
Kyoto is methodical in their approach. On an individual level, you suspect that Kyoto is far ahead of them, but as a team, they have come up with the perfect strategy â at least against the Tokyo team. They have done their research, know everything there is to know about their adversaries. Then again, having one member of the Zenâin and one member of the Kamo family on their side, even if neither have access to their familiesâ historical techniques, must have been quite the help to gather that information.
You donât see them doing anything revolutionary â if anything, a team such as theirs could have been composed hundreds of years ago â but they have no need for it, not with how brutal they are willing to be, leaving devastation in their wake. Theyâre prepared, efficient, collected. Theyâre also quick, having adapted to this modified version of capture the flag, one that involves curses, without hesitation.
Tokyo defends to the best of their abilities. They prove themselves especially capable when it comes to improvising on the spot, which means that Gojoâs teaching works on that front is working, at least. The match ends up closer than Kyoto must have been hoping for, but it doesnât change the end result.
Itâs a resounding victory for Kyoto.
âWell,â Gakuganji is the first to speak as it ends, âthat was quite the beautiful display of sportsmanship, donât you think, Satoru?â
You glance at Gojo, who is sitting next to you. Thereâs real anger in the way his jaw tenses at the question, but by the time you blink, heâs already relaxed it.
âThat was really impressive!â he laughs, throwing his head back and clapping enthusiastically. âTheyâve progressed so much since last year, havenât they? I never imagined they would be able to come this far.â
You press your lips together at the barely veiled insult.
âIndeed, that is what realized potential looks like,â Gakuganji replies, stroking his beard. âSuch a shame to see your promising pupils crashing and burning⌠Although thatâs not the first time youâve seen that happen, is it?â
That is the least charitable way of looking at what happened there, but it is impossible to argue with the facts: Kyoto bested Tokyo. You canât say you appreciate the way heâs talking about your students, but you donât think itâs your place to say anything.
Gojoâs smile thins.
âWell, Iâll be looking forward to the individual tournament tomorrow,â Gakuganji adds, standing up. âIn the meantime, Yaga, I assume you have planned for accommodations, and all this action has given me quite the appetite.â
He leaves the room with an unmistakably pleased smile, Yaga getting up after him. He gestures at Gojo to join them, and heâs not hiding his scowl when he stands up, unfolding his long limbs slowly. The other sorcerers follow suit, Utahime included, though she is sporting a somber expression too. Youâre the only one to linger in the room, in no rush to suffer through more of Gojo and Gakuganjiâs quips.
When you do leave, you stop by the infirmary, where you find Ieiri cursing through her teeth as she works on the students. Even though several of them are fully healed, theyâre keeping themselves huddled up together, shoulders hanging low, eyes on the ground.
Defeated.
âProfessor Gojo has already come by,â one of them informs you without bothering to look at you. âWeâre fine. Weâll do better tomorrow.â
âYes, you will,â you confirm, and you see flashes of hope on their faces, mistaking your confidence for a prophecy. Truth be told, you havenât seen anything for the next day, but this is often the best way of using the aura that surrounds you. âBut you did well today. They saw a weak spot, and they exploited it. As long as you learn from it, there is no shame in this defeat.â
That deflates them, and Ieiri snickers, glancing at you with a grin.
âQuite the pep talk youâre giving here.â
Sheâs right. Youâve never been good at this.
âYouâre all excellent sorcerers, but even you can be defeated by people who are not as good as you, provided theyâve prepared adequately. That is what you need to take away from today. Conversely, you will be able to defeat much stronger adversaries than you, with the right approach.â
Some look thoughtful at your words â most still look just as dejected as they were when you walked in.
âWeâll work on that once this tournament is over. For now, all you need to do is rest. Youâll prevail tomorrow.â
Smiles finally break on their faces, and you take that as your cue to leave, before you can say something that would ruin it again.
Youâre in no rush to join the other sorcerers just yet, so you wander through the hallways, intending to go back to the classroom thatâs become your refuge in the school. Youâre one corner away from it, when the window that leads to the outside slides open, and Satoru Gojo jumps in, right in front of you. It is the second floor, yet you canât muster surprise.
He shoots you a smirk that knocks the air out of you, but itâs nothing compared to what he does next. He looks back towards the window, looking displeased, and thatâs when you notice voices calling for him â Kyoto students and low-level sorcerers. Youâre about to look down when he catches you. He wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you away, presses the other on the wall, next to your head, and you freeze. Heâs close, and everything youâve been feeling for weeks at this point comes rushing back in.
âYou know whatâs a great way of getting peopleâs attention off you?â he asks, smirk even wider, if possible.
âWhââ
Then his lips are on yours.
He tastes sweet, youâre surprised to find.
Itâs playful, the way he kisses you, a press of his mouth against yours, stolen, daring. Itâs also all you need to admit to yourself how badly youâve been wanting this. Thatâs why youâre the one who wraps your arms around his neck, kissing him back harder. He lets out a surprised noise into you, maybe a chuckle, but he certainly doesnât fight it, even if he wasnât planning on it. In fact, itâs quite the contrary.
He reaches greedily for your hips, pulling you to him and keeping you pressed against his hard chest. When you part your lips, there is not a moment of hesitation on his part before he pushes his tongue in, swirling it against yours. You crane your neck to give him better access to your mouth, all while holding on tight to his neck to lower him towards you. Your back is against the wall, your body arched a way that would be uncomfortable if you werenât so hot all over, set ablaze by his touch.
When he pushes his thigh between your legs, flexing it so it rubs against you just right, your knees buckle under you. It doesnât help that, in this position, his semi-hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and that awakens a very special kind of hunger within you.
There is no softness to the kiss or to the way your bodies move together, just pure lust. Wetness is pooling between your legs already, in anticipation for more, more of him, more of his body, more of his touch. Heâs so tall, itâs like heâs everywhere, his scent surrounding you, his body caging you against the wall effortlessly, his mouth demanding more and more of you. You roll your hips against his, trapping his cock between your bodies, and he hisses into you, his grip turning bruising â not that you mind.
âTease,â he manages to mumble as he takes a quick breath.
Thereâs no room for any more words before he reattaches his mouth to yours, almost biting into you, and fuck it feels good. His lips are soft, but that must be the only thing that is soft about this kiss. He moves your skirt out of the way, one hand coming to grab your thigh so he can lift it up, and that is when your eyes snap open, some reason coming back to your lust-filled brain at last.
âWait,â you mumble, ânot here.â Your eyes dart around the dark hallway â empty, but far too in the open for your liking. Problem is, your body is aching with how much you want him, and, even if it would be the smart thing to do, you canât bring yourself to stop now. âClassroom,â you conclude, pulling him with you.
He lets out a breathless laugh, but follows. The second the door is closed, he has you against the wall again, this time with his chest pressed to your back while his lips find your neck, teeth pulling at the skin mercilessly before dragging his tongue on the sensitive area to soothe it. You let out a sigh, but it comes out much louder than youâd intended, almost a moan, and you have to lift a hand up to cover your mouth. He snickers, but doesnât waste any more time on teasing you.
Instead, he snakes his hand into your skirt, and this time, you donât stop him. Long fingers move past the hem of your panties to brush against your clit and you jump, biting your lower lip to keep quiet. His lips stretch into a smile on your neck.
âYouâre so fucking wet already,â he comments by your ear, rubbing his fingers over your pussy lips, purposefully not entering you.
You groan in frustration, and push your ass against his now rock-hard cock. The low moan he lets out in surprise is delightful to hear.
âAs if youâre one to talk,â you reply.
âIs that how you want to play it?â
Before you can answer him, he easily pushes two fingers inside you. Theyâre long and they fill you so well, you have to focus every fiber of you thatâs not lost in pleasure on keeping quiet. Gojoâs free to take his fingers out, then plunge them into you once more, and you canât help clenching needily around them.
âSee,â he says, and oh his low voice, the way it makes his chest vibrate against your back, it all goes straight to your core, making you gush around his fingers some more, âthatâs expected of me, âcause everyone knows Iâm sorcerer societyâs problem child. Arenât you supposed to be the good girl?â
Itâs no easy task to think with his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly, but even through the haze of pleasure, the words make you frown.
âSaysâ Ahâ Says who?â
He uses the heel of his palm to press against your clit, and youâd conclude that he is actively trying to render you speechless if pleasure wasnât shooting through you like electricity.
âHmm, I donât know, Iâd say youâre being pretty good right now, wouldnât you?â
âWould youâ fuckâ would you stop talking and just fuck me already?â you still manage to bite out.
He laughs again, delighted and maybe a little fond, but he stills his fingers inside you. You get some time to catch your breath, and use whatever self-control you have left not to try and fuck yourself on his hand.
âYou sure?â
âAs long as youâre clean, Iâm safe,â you say â maybe not your smartest moment, but you canât find it in yourself to care right now.
He pulls his fingers out, and you glance at him over your shoulder. Heâs still wearing the bandages over his eyes, but his jaw is uncharacteristically taut, and his movements lack their usual fluidity. You grin. Good to see youâre having an effect on him too. It becomes even more obvious when he pulls out his cock, hard and veiny. Youâre not surprised by how big he is, and you find yourself licking your lips, clenching around air at the prospect of whatâs to come. Shit, you cannot wait to have it inside you, stretching you out.
âIâve been wanting to mess up that skirt for weeks,â he mumbles, mostly to himself, as he pushes it out of the way and lowers your panties.
âThen what are you waiting for?â you ask with a click of your tongue. He is still talking way more than he should.
The smirk he gives you should concern you. He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, and then, instead of penetrating you, as youâre frozen in anticipation, slides his length against your pussy lips, sending jolts of pleasure through you, but not giving you what you need right now. You whimper pleadingly, not catching yourself fast enough to keep yourself silent. You worry that he will keep teasing, but it appears he has reached his limits too, because soon he is pushing the tip of his cock inside you, and fuck, itâs even better than youâd imagined.
You hear him grunt behind you as he starts pushing himself inside you at a devilishly slow pace. You expected him to do it all at once, so you turn around once more, ready to throw another quip at him for his relentless teasing, but the words die on your lips when you see his face. His teeth are planted in his lower lip, and his face is contorted in a pleasure that he is clearly trying to reign in, his breathing quick and shallow, his chest heaving. The sight leaves you breathless, so you stay quiet.
âSo fucking tight,â he all but whines as he keeps pushing himself inside you.
He bottoms out at last, and he stills for a few seconds, all so you can adjust and not at all because he is going to come too fast if he canât get used to how warm and welcoming you are around him first. The discreet groans he was letting out turn into a full moan when you move forward, pulling him out of you, then back, sheathing him inside you completely once more. Youâd keep moving, but he grips your hips tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, to stop any movement you could make.
It doesnât last long though, because after that, he starts moving himself, and the pace he sets it merciless. The slapping of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the empty room, but you canât find it in yourself to care, not when you can barely think, not when your knees are failing you and his hands on hips are the only thing keeping you standing, not when tiny whimpers keep spilling past your lips, no matter how much you try to keep them in.
âCouldnât be even just a little patient, hm?â he asks you. Itâs undercut by the gasps that interrupt him, the pleasured moans that escape him too.
This time, you donât find anything to answer. The angle, with you bent over, hands on the wall in a desperate attempt to stay on your feet, makes you feel so, so full that you canât think straight. Pleasure is coursing through you with each time he hammers into you, and you clench around him helplessly each time he pulls out. Heâs fast, relentless, but if the way his moans keep getting more-pitched is any indication, heâs close to reaching his climax. Youâre not far yourself, you justâ just needâ just a littleâ
One of his hands abandons your hip, and you would stumble forward if he wasnât holding you so firmly. His free hand finds its way to your clit, and pinches it expertly, just as he snaps his hips into you harder than he has so far, spilling himself inside you. The orgasm hits you like a thousand volts, and your hips jerk back uncontrollably, whole body shaking, as you ride the wave of it on his cock until it ends. Ah, you needed this so badly that, as it recedes, you can only feel content, the pleasure it gave you still tingling in your body.
For a while, the sounds of you and Gojoâs panting are all that fill the room. Finally, he pulls his sensitive, softening cock out a you with a hiss, and you ignore the squelching sound it makes. He tucks it back into his pants, and you finally find it in yourself to pull your panties back up, readjusting your skirt. Your hair is messy from the kissing earlier, but apart from that, youâre still rather presentable â you hope.
âDidnât think you had that in you,â Gojo comments. Heâs still catching his breath.
âAt what point are you going to admit that youâve just misjudged me?â
He laughs, but the smirk he shoots you, hands in his pockets, standing a few feet away from you, is proof that the distance between the two of you is back to what it was before. You donât find yourself minding all that much. This is as good a way as any other to release tension, and youâre more relaxed than you have in weeks. The lightness of his voice tells you the same is true for him. Seems like you both got the same thing out of it, and thatâs fine by you, even if it doesnât bring you any closer.
âOnce I know I was wrong,â he says. It sounds ominous, but, well, if he wants to keep clinging to that image heâs made of you, that is his problem. So far, youâd argue that it has rather worked in your favor.
You shrug.
âIf you hadnât felt that way, Tokyo would have won today,â you tell him matter-of-factly.
His smile widens.
âGuess weâll have to see about that next year, hm?â
âI guess we will.â
Silence grows between the two of you. You normally wouldnât mind. Now, you feel the need to say something.
âThis should stay between us,â you finally manage to say. Sorcerer society can beâ harsh, on women, to say the least. The last thing you need is for someone to know youâve fucked your coworker. Youâd be branded as a whore, and while you find this all horribly regressive, youâd still rather not have to deal with the fallout.
Gojo hums in agreement.
âIâm not really the type to want all my business out there either,â he tells you in a surprising display of sincerity. Itâs ruined when he smirks and adds, âNext time, I think I should fuck you on your desk.â
You scoff, but you know you both hear your lack of denial loud and clear. Youâre not opposed to there being a next time, provided this doesnât get out. By the look of things, it would be mutually beneficial.
You donât bother to answer him before you open the door, glancing outside. No one in sight. He would have known if that had been the case, of course, but youâre still relieved. You slip outside unceremoniously â itâs pretty clear youâre done here anyway â and he does nothing to hold you back.
Later, after youâve taken a quick shower in the facilities available at the high school and youâre sat by Ieiri around the dinner table, Gakuganji can barely hide his smugness.
âWhere you have been off to?â he asks Gojo, his tone making it clear just how pleased with himself he is. âLicking your wounds?â
âSomething like that,â Gojo answers lightly, and youâre careful to keep your eyes on your food.
The conversation fades into the background. Your thoughts move to the upcoming solo tournament, the next day, to your students, to the missions you have to assign. And then, for the first time in forever, you find yourself distracted by something that isnât work-related. You welcome the respite it gives you.
On your desk, next time, huh?
You could work with that.
thank you all for reading and getting all the way here! interactions are what keeps me writing, so please comment/reblog/send an ask to feed your author and have my eternal gratitude!
tagging people who expressed interest in the first chapter: @sapphiccloud @saccharine-nectarine @calypsothegoddess @aspiring-bookworm @aerismonia
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo angst#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk fanfic#gojo satoru#my writing
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This is a little sterek college AU (are they human are they werewolves who knows) one shot that I wrote on my phone with no beta or editing So apologies for the errors! The premise is a little vauge on purpose in case I want to expand this into a full story later but basically its an "Everyone grew up together" kind of vibe. Made Derek only 3 years older to make him still being in college realistic. Enjoy!
The car slowing to a stop woke Stiles. Blinking around and not fully conscious he asked confused:
"Are we there already?"
Derek glanced over from the driver's seat and chuckled.Â
"No we still have like three hours. It's just a traffic jam."Â
"Oh," stiles sat up a little straighter and looked around, clearly still half asleep. "We'll still get there early right?"Â
"Yeah, gps says we'll arrive at 1, so plenty of time for move in," Derek assured as the traffic began inching forward.Â
"Good, I need to talk to the housing department," Stiles pulled out his phone, fingers moving rapidly as he typed.Â
Derek smiled indulgently. It was Stiles freshman year of college and Derek had never seen him so excited.Â
"To get your key?" Derek prompted when Stiles didn't elaborate.Â
"No, I need to see if they have any empty rooms," Stiles tone was almost vague, his attention on his phone. "Or any double rooms with only one occupant. Here look there's an alternative route-"Â
"I'm sorry what?" Derek cut Stiles off. "You have to ask about a room? Stiles it's move in day! The day you move in!"Â
"Yeah so I have to get a room to move into," Stiles rolled his eyes. "So the earlier the better! Here, take the next exit so we can get around-"Â
"Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski!!" Derek didn't roar, they were in a closed car but it was a close thing.Â
"Hey hey hey, why are you middle naming me?" Stiles demanded. "Forget that, why are you first naming me?!"
"Because your father isn't here to do it!" Derek growled. "You don't have a place to live?"
"Well I did! But then Scott decided to room with Allison instead and I told him not to worry about it but when I called the place we were going to rent from they said I couldn't rent a two bedroom as one person so yes I'm going to talk to housing when we get there!" Stiles waved his hands around as he spoke, getting more agitated. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, stiles, ask the adults in your life for help?" Derek pointed out.
"Dad has enough on his plate and I had already told him scott and I were set," Stiles sounded embarrassed.Â
"Your father is not the only adult in your life," Derek reminded, though not harshly. "What about my parents, hell Laura would have been happy to help or I don't know me??"
"Your parents were busy getting cora all set up," Stiles pointed out. "And I thought about calling Laura but her semester just started too..."
"And me?" Derek prompted. "I'm not exactly new at this!"Â
"Honestly I forget you're an adult too," Stiles admitted sheepishly.Â
"Stiles!" Derek groaned almost closing his eyes but the traffic began moving again and he focused back on the road.Â
"I know I know!! That's why I want to get there early, so I can get this sorted out with the housing department!" Stiles desperately explained again before holding out his phone again. "So can we take the alternate route?"Â
"What if you moved in with me?"Â
Stiles jaw dropped and he half lowered the phone. Derek wasn't looking at him, the older man's eyes on the road but he was growing in thought.Â
"What?"
"Move in with me," Derek repeated. "It's small but you wouldn't have to worry about rent, you could save the money you make at your job. It's technically off campus but it's not far to walk. There's also a bus stop out front-"Â
"But you hate having roommates!" Stiles interrupted. "And isn't it a one bedroom?"Â
"Yeah it's a little place but we can make it work. And you're not a stranger so I think I'll be fine," Derek smiled slightly. "What do you say?"Â
"Okay," Stiles was almost breathless. "If you're really sure..."
"I'm sure Stiles. Now we've still got like two and a half hours to go so go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there."Â
"Okay," Stiles said again, smiling this time. "Thanks Der."Â
"You're welcome," Derek responded with a smile.Â
*****
"I'm sorry I have so many books," stiles frowned apologetic as they hauled the last two boxes up the stairs to the apartment.Â
"It's fine, Stiles, I promise," Derek said for what felt like the hundredth time.Â
They dropped the boxes by the half full bookshelves in the small living room before pausing to take a break.Â
Heading to the kitchen Derek pulled a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, silently greatful he had come the week before to clean and stock the apartment. It hadn't been used in months and had been dusty. Derek had wanted move in day to have as minimal work as possible so he had come to prepare.Â
"Are you sure about me not paying rent?" Stiles worried voice pulled Derek from his thoughts.Â
"I told you it's fine. I don't pay rent, why would I make you pay rent?" Derek held out a water bottle to Stiles. "My parents own the building, specifically so family can use it without having to worry about paying for accommodations. There's always a few units empty. This one has been mine since I started school."Â
"If you're sure," Stiles relented. "Do we need any groceries? I can make a run!"Â
"Sure," Derek started but he was interrupted by a knock on the door and it swinging open.Â
"Hey nerd, how's unpacking going?"Â
Both men turned to see Erica kicking off her shoes by the door.Â
"Hey Erica!" Stiles greeted brightly. "It's going pretty good! We got the sleeping arrangements sorted first then hauled everything in!"Â
Erica froze for half a second at the sight of stiles before smiling.Â
"What are you doing here?" She asked
"Oh I'm living here," stiles glanced between his two friends "did Derek not tell you?"Â
"He did not," Erica gave Derek a pointed look and the older man rolled his eyes.Â
"Cut me some slack, I didn't even know until like 3 hours ago!" Derek gave Stiles a face. "Someone thought they could show up on move in day and just find a place to stay!"
"Oh?" Erica grinned and Stiles blushed.Â
"I'm going to go get some groceries now," he muttered avoiding Erica's eye and she laughed.Â
"Whatever Batman," Erica plopped on the couch, pulling out her phone. "Bring me back some chocolate?"Â
"Sure," Stiles agreed easily. "I won't be long!"Â
"Ok be safe and call me if you get lost!" Derek said sternly.Â
"This isn't the preserve Derek, GPS actually works here so I think I'll be fine!" With that stiles left, waving as he pulled the door closed.Â
As soon as she hears the door latch Erica jumped up rouding on Derek.Â
"This is a terrible idea!!" She exclaimed. "Why would you even suggest it?"Â
"If you're gonna lecture at least help me unpack his books," Derek answered, dodging the question.Â
"Seriously Derek, what were you thinking?" Erica grabbed a box and began opening it.Â
"Well I wasn't gonna let him be homeless!" Derek hissed. "He's my best friend-"
"Who you've been in love with since you were what 8?" Erica crossed her arms.Â
"If we're getting technical since I was 3," Derek admitted.Â
Erica did the quick mental math before asking:
"God Derek, was he even born??"Â
"Um not yet."Â
"Derek!" Erica groaned. "What are you going to do if he brings someone home? You'll be in jail for murder!"Â
"I'm not that jealous!" Derek said defensively.
"No but you are that protective!" Erica countered.Â
"It won't be a problem anyway, Stiles isn't going to bring anyone home," Derek said dismissively.Â
"Are we talking about the same stiles?" Erica raised an eyebrow. "Stiles stilinski? The boy who dated Lydia Martin! Stiles stilinski who dated your sister and your cousin not to mention half the lacrosse team! Say what you want but that boy can pull!"Â
"Okay so we cross that bridge when we get there!" Derek continued putting books on the shelves, avoiding Erica's eye for a moment.Â
"Yeah okay," Erica crossed her arms. "We'll see how that goes."Â
"You want a tour or what?" Derek huffed, changing the subject.Â
"Obviously," Erica grinned. "Why else do you think I came over?"Â
Derek refrained from rolling his eyes and gestured for the young woman to follow him. He gave a quick tour of the living room and kitchen before opening the door to the bedroom.Â
"There's only one bed?!" Erica rounded on Derek, her disbelief written across her face.Â
"It's a king, we can share," Derek shrugged. "We have before."
"This is going to end so badly. This is a disaster," Erica stood dumbfounded. "Seriously what were you thinking?"Â
*****
"I was thinking 'hey one less thing to stress over' Scott I wasn't thinking about how in each other's space it would be!" Stiles nearly threw his hands up in exasperation. "I didn't exactly have another option!"Â
"You should have told me! Allison and I could have got a bigger place or you an I could have done this first semester together and she and I could have moved in together next semester!" Scott's worried voice came over the phone and stiles could almost see Scott nervously pacing.Â
"It's Derek Scott, it'll be fine!" Stiles tried to sound confident.Â
"Who you've been in love with since you were old enough to walk!" Scott pointed out.
Stiles groaned.Â
"I know, I know. But honestly, how bad can this be?"Â
#teen wolf#sterek#derek hale#stiles stilinski#college au#there's only one bed#Erica reyes#Erica reyes is the voice of reason#one shot#mutual pining
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Dark Shelves 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes (archivist AU)
Summary:Â your new job is much of the same, with a hit of new misery.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Iâm happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging â¤ď¸
You peer up at the romanesque pillars and the curved dome of the elaborate building. Itâs a step up, a high one, and youâre proud of yourself for taking. After years in a basement, blowing dust off of rusted spoons that may as well be at the good-will, youâre finally exactly where you want to be. Â
Not associate, not assistant, you are an archivist in your own right. You will not be pushed into the corner again. Though you arenât too presumptive. You could get lost in any stacks. You like how your job affords you pockets of solitary, but you didnât choose the career on that alone. Â
You work to preserve and share the past. It sounds more noble in your head than out loud. Itâs a good enough reason for you.Â
You climb the stairs and pause before you pass through the double doors. Inside, the lobby is airy and polished to a shine. You try not to marvel too obviously. Too often youâve been caught and ridiculed for the very act. Most people look at you and assume less than more of you.Â
You walk up the front desk, a grand circular structure with shelves behind it. The man behind it has a metal nametag on his brown plaid shirt; Peter. You greet him stoically. You quit smiling to appease strange men a while ago.Â
âHi, Iâm here to get my employee ID.â You take out your phone. âThen Iâm supposed to meet someone named James.âÂ
âRight, I have your welcome packet,â he reaches under the desk. âItâs here.âÂ
âGreat,â you accept the folder as he beams back at you. Heâs young and fresh-faced. He must still be a student. âThank you.âÂ
âHave you been her before?â He asks.Â
âA couple times,â you answer.Â
âCool, cool,â he accepts, âthereâs a map in there in case.â He points to the folder. âYouâre going to second floor. East wing. The office number is in the email.âÂ
âYes, I saw that. Thanks so much,â you nod.Â
âOh, your cardâs activated. So any access thingies, just swipe,â he says.Â
âGot it,â you cross your arm over the folder and continue around the desk to the double set of staircases that open behind it.Â
You climb patiently. Youâre early. You always are. A long academic career has drilled the habit into your very being.Â
You check the email one last time and put your phone away. Youâre not one for stereotypes but in your experience, the senior archivists tend to hate screens. You always resented their stubbornness. Digital backups are essential to the future of your profession. It could also just make their lives easier in general.Â
As you count down the office numbers, you slow down. The short heels of your lace-up boots clack softly on the oaken floor tiles. The door you need is already open and thereâs a man standing in it. He leans slightly on the frame as he faces inward. His deep voice carries behind him.Â
You push your shoulders back as you approach. You donât want to interrupt. You stop about a foot back, unsure how to go forward. You check your watch with a subtle tilt of your head.Â
The man in the door is tall. He has one foot pointed to the floor, and arm bent back as he pushes back his brown corduroy jacket and grips his hip. He wears a dark blue turtleneck that meets the long tails of his outgrown hair. Thereâs never an in-between with archivists. They are either immaculately preened are shaggy and stuffy.Â
âRight,â the man glances over his shoulder at you and his eyes squint, crinkly his nose, âI think Iâm holding someone up.â He turns to face you, âhello, miss, do you need some help? Looking for the newspaper lab?âÂ
Youâre not surprised that he assumes you to be a student. Itâs a common presumption among his demographic. They are always the authority and everyone they donât know must be ignorant.Â
âNo. Hello, Iâm an archivist. Newly-hired. You wouldnât happen to be James Barnes?âÂ
âJames?â His mouth slants. âOnly his mother calls him that. Bit of advice, itâs Bucky.âÂ
âSteve,â a voice drawls from within the open office.Â
âAlright, alright,â the man shows his hands then extends one to you. âSteve Rogers. Iâm the next door down. Fellow senior archivist, with James.âÂ
âSteve,â another snarl.Â
You shake the manâs hand, ânice to meet you.âÂ
His cheek ticks, âyou too. I like that vest. Very... quirky.âÂ
You donât thank him. You merely retract your hand and adjust the scarf between the open front of your coat. He sidles out of the doorway as he wears a pompous smirk.Â
âCome in,â the bodiless voice calls out to you.Â
You step into the doorway. The man youâre looking for sits behind his desk. He uses an envelope open to pick at what appears to be a metal shell for a coil of parchment. He delicate traces the lines of the ornate metal cap on the end.Â
âIâll be a moment,â he says.Â
âAlright,â you stand in the doorway. He doesnât welcome you to sit. You introduce yourself in the stagnant lull.Â
âI know who you are,â he grumbles as his brow wrinkles at his work. âAfter all, I sacrificed my day to training you.âÂ
You donât appreciate the insinuation. Youâre a task he doesnât want to tend. A burden on what he really wants to do. You can find your way around just fine without him but the email said training was mandatory. You didnât exactly have any say in who was handed that unlucky chore.Â
âI have experience. Three years in the Heronâs Corner archives. And Iâve also done some volunteer work for museums. If youâd rather, I learn just as well from paper or email.â You suggest.Â
He huffs, âtypical.âÂ
You donât reply. Whatever he assumes about you isnât true but youâre not biting the hook. He grows exasperated and sets the container on its stands and stabs the envelope open into his pen cub. He slaps his hands on his desk and stands.Â
âYou young ones just want to sit at a computer all day,â he comes around and slides his hands into his pockets. âThis job isnât that.âÂ
âIâm aware of the job description,â you assure him.Â
He stops before you and reaches to brush his fingertips along his thick beard. A thicket of hair falls forward he swoops it back just as swiftly. The cleft in his jaw deepens with his distaste.Â
âThatâs good. Less to explain, doll face,â he pulls his hand away to check his watch.Â
âFine, letâs get started.â He sniffs, âtake notes.âÂ
He steps forward and you barely have a chance to get out of his way. His jacket flaps as he passes you and you stiffen as you grip the folder tightly. You reach to your coat pocket and take out your silver pen.Â
Itâs only the first day. Soon enough, youâll be free to focus on your own work, and he his.Â
#bucky barnes#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#dark!steve rogers#bucky barnes x reader#series#drabble#dark shelves#au#mcu#marvel#captain america#avengers#winter soldier
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âÎľ âŕšŃľŕŤ¨Îľ ÎľĆ âÎľ ĎâÎąŕšŕ¸ŁŕšŕŤ¨
đSecond submission for the Dragon Collab hosted by @flurrys-creativity.
đPairing: Knowledge Dragon! Lee Heeseung x Organizer! Reader (f)
đGenre: smut
đTrope: employer/employee, idiots to lovers
đAu: modern au, dragon au, hybrid au
đRating: 18+, MDNI
đWord Count: 2,904
đWarnings: penetrative sex with no barrier, kama sutra references, slow-paced sex, breast play, begging, usage of tail during sex, horn tugging (it's a dragon kink okay)
đSummary: when a dragon hires you to organize his horde of information, you find that he wants to add you to his treasure
1- La Gemme at l'extase with Hyunjin {fantasy dragon} | 2- Le Livre et le plaisir with Heeseung {modern dragon} | 3- ??? with San {sci-fi dragon}
Never in a million years did you think your love for organization would get you a job working for a dragon hybrid.
Lee Heeseung, a hoarder of knowledge, was your employer. After a very enjoyable interview, in which you were under the impression the dragon hybrid was flirting with you, you were hired on the spot.Â
The owner of the sprawling renovated mansion gave you a tour immediately, to show off his hoard, of course.
âYou can pick whatever suite of rooms youâd prefer,â Heeseung explained. He threw his arms out to emphasize his point. âBut you will live here. I donât want any flimsy excuse such as transit being a reason why you couldn't work more hours.â
He was haughty, this new employer of yours. He spoke as if everything he said was a fact. But if you had had thousands of years absorbing countless texts of knowledge, perhaps youâd speak that way too.Â
âWhere would you like me to start?â You wondered tentatively, as the both of you strode through featureless hallways.Â
âHereâs probably good,â Heeseung announced.Â
He threw open two large doors and you whimpered in pain. Books, scrolls, even thumb drives, were thrown carelessly into piles here and there in the large room.
ââSuppose it was used as a ballroom once but I have no need for dancing,â Heeseung elaborated.Â
You stood up a little bit straighter, determined to do a good job, even if you felt overloaded with the amount of work. âIâll make the appropriate arrangements.â
âGood,â Heeseung nodded firmly. âItâll be good to have a new smell around here.â
And then he sent you a crooked smile that made your heart skip a beat. This dragon was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with breathing fire.
If you were being honest, you rarely saw the dragon hybrid after that. He didnât care to keep tabs on you and it allowed you plenty of breathing room to do as you pleased.Â
And boy, was there a lot of work to do.
Just when you thought you had gathered all the floppy disks, youâd discover a new room, and have to start all over again. You had an absolute meltdown when you discovered a few towers of computers with audio books in the basement that was meant to store kegs of liquor, but luckily, no harm had befallen the electronics.Â
That incident made you track down your employer. You found him in one of his many studies that fine rainy morning. Flashes of lightning reflected off his glasses and the tiny horns protruding from his hair. His tail swishing contently like that of a cat pushed you over the edge.
âDo you have no care over your treasures?â You shouted at him. âYou simply dump them willy-nilly!â
âIsnât that a part of your job now?â Heeseung replied, eyes glued to his book of Plato.Â
âI organize, yes,â You raged. âBut I am not in control of you finding more books and throwing them into a bathroom that leaks!â
âDonât be ridiculous,â Heeseung denied. You felt your hackles lower. Then he said, âI only put the audio recordings in there once.â
You let out a noise of frustration and left immediately after that.Â
After that, you did your best to avoid the irritating dragon hybrid. Your job was to organize his hoard, after all, not engage in frustrating conversations.Â
You fully dove into your job once again, pushing into the physical aspect of moving books around. You were careful with the older books, donning gloves to inspect the titles and dates they were published. Scrolls were a bit harder to categorize but you enjoyed rolling them and applying certain ribbons to keep them in their historic eras.Â
Focusing on your work eased your heart and eventually you started to feel proud of what you had accomplished. You kept meticulous notes of how everything was organized, for reference for your employer, of course.Â
Said dragon hybrid found you one day when you were struggling with a container of portable hard drives.
Heeseung walked in waving a book. âI found the original copy of The Hobbit! The version before JR Tolkein retconned it for the trilogy--â
You felt the dragonâs eyes upon you and you felt disgusting immediately. What did he see? A sweaty, gross blob that he had hired to paw through his precious treasures? You stared at the book Heeseung had, refusing to meet his eyes, fanning yourself. You were overheated and about to take a break anyways.
âIâll put some gloves on. I know exactly where itâll go. I found a lovely poem about poppies written in World War One, itâll fit nicely there,â You murmured, looking around for your gloves.
Heeseung completed the steps it took to bring him flush with your body. He reached around you and pulled your gloves from your back pocket.
âTheyâre here,â he said, a slow smile pulling his lips as he offered them to you.
You swallowed, reaching to take the gloves from him. âAh, thank--â
You were jerked forward when Heeseung yanked on the gloves instead of releasing them to you. âYou smell like dust and books,â he informed you. Why did it sound like he was saying you smelled delicious?
âWell, I am working hard here, Heeseung,â You informed him, waving your hand indistinctly around the room.Â
His eyes moved up and down your disheveled form. âI can see that.â
You refused to meet his eyes and tugged discreetly at the gloves. âIf you would pleaseâŚ?â
âI mind greatly, in fact,â Heeseung murmured.Â
Was it just you or were his lips getting closer to your face?
âHeeseung,â You whimpered.
The dragon hybridâs pupils blew wide. âSay my name like that again.â
You shook your head. âI should get going.âÂ
You dropped your hold on the gloves and attempted to circumvent your hybrid dragon boss. Heeseung had other ideas, however. His tail wrapped around your waist and tugged you back to his vicinity.Â
âWhere are you going, little bookworm?â Heeseung drawled.Â
You got shivers from the nickname. âTo my room.â
Heeseung clucked his tongue mockingly at you. âI donât think so. Why are you running away from your desire?â
The dragon hit the nail on the head. That was exactly what you were doing.Â
âYouâre my employer. We shouldnât cross any lines,â You argued softly.
Heeseung cocked his head. âWhoâs to say what we do is wrong? No one governs me and my treasure.â
Goosebumps littered your body. âStop that.â
Heeseung chuckled deeply. âI like you. I think Iâll keep you.â
You had a moment of courage, dragging your eyes up to meet his. The lizard-like slit that served as a pupil was almost overtaking his silver irisâ. âWhere would you put me? With the books? The floppy disks?â
âIn my bed,â the man said with no hesitation in his voice.
âWill we make it to your bed?â You wondered.
âNo.â
Heeseungâs strong fingers dug into your hair as he held your head in place to kiss you. It was slow and sensual, and you felt like you were drowning in desire. His tongue swept along the seam of your lips and you automatically opened for him. You felt his moan against your lips as he plunged his tongue inside your mouth. His tongue slowly coaxed yours into submission, to the point when Heeseung ended the kiss, your tongue came out to chase his.Â
Heeseung smirked confidently. âThatâs a good look on you.â
You struggled to think through the lust-filled haze your head was currently. âI--â
Heeseungâs fingers untangled themselves from your hair and opted instead to wrap around your wrist. âDonât worry, Iâll take care of you, my little bookworm.â
Take care of you he did. Amongst his treasures that you had been busy sorting, he rid you of all your clothes, and his own. The look of absolute hunger on his face never disappeared. It made your heart beat, being viewed as one of the scrolls he snatched up and wanted to read. The loud obsession written all over his face made you feel something a little bit more than lust.Â
Heeseung bade you to lay down and his eyes twinkled, a slight smile pulling at the edge of his lips. âIf you wouldnât mind, Iâd like to try a position from the Kama Sutra. It's called Splitting the Bamboo.â
After you nod, curious as to what Heeseung wants to do with you.Â
You watch with interest as he straddles your left leg and pushes your right leg upwards. He presses wet, open mouth kisses along your calf. He moved up your leg until his pelvis was lined up with yours.Â
âCan I fill you up?â The dragon hybrid asked you seductively.Â
You nod again, your mind filled with only thoughts of Heeseung--all thoughts of your âbossâ gone out the window.
Heeseung bit down on his lower lip as he pushed into your wet core. The process of sheathing himself inside of you was pleasurable, making you mewl as he did so. A confident smile continued to pull at Heeseungâs lips; as if he took pride in making you feel good.Â
âDoes my little bookworm want to be pleased some more?â He crooned softly.
You couldn't decide if he was being condescending or looking to take care of you, but either way your lower half became wetter at the phrase. âMove, please,â You pleaded.
Heeseung settled into gentle waves between your legs, slowly building the pleasure inside of you. Sweet, gentle kisses littered your leg that remained slightly over his shoulder. For someone who was so matter-of-fact and flirty, you had not expected such gentle lovemaking. It was making your mind swirl dangerously.
You reached down to swipe your finger through your folds to play with your clit but Heeseungâs tail wrapped around your wrist and intercepted you.Â
âIâll get you to your climax,â He informed you coolly. âBe patient.â
The maddening pace Heeseung set drove you wild. You begged, you raged, you negotiated but Heeseung would not speed up his thrusting. If anything, he played with your body, as if your words were simply buzzing flies around his head. He would grip your breast, squeezing appreciatively, tweaking your nipple but never did his fingers flirt with your clit.Â
It felt like hours that you were in a lust-filled haze, your stomach curling and winding with pleasure. âPlease,â You gasped, âPlease, I wanna come.â
âYou should appreciate the time,â Heeseung hummed. âThis is an artform.â
You let out a groan of frustration, clawing through the lust, and reached up to grab Heeseungâs horns. The hybrid let out a breathy cry, like you touching his horns did something for him. You both froze.Â
Heeseung changed positions, pressing your knees to your shoulders. You groaned at how deeply he was inside of you now. He placed both of your hands on his horns again. âHold on,â he instructed.
Heeseung lost his poise as you held onto his horns. His thrusts became sloppy and quick. A groan grew in his chest and rumbled out of his mouth. All you could do was be a receptacle for his passion and you werenât sure you wanted it any other way. His dick was hitting so deep inside you that your jaw fell open as your climax wound tighter inside of you.
âOh gods, Heeseung!â You shouted out his name as your climax hit you like a train.
Heeseung arched his back and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he came inside of you. He was muttering âmine,mine,mineâ under his breath as his hips chased out his own climax.
All you could hear for a while was Heeseungâs heavy breathing and your whimpers as you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. You had most definitely NOT expected that when you got hired.Â
Then, abruptly, Heeseung was removing himself from you and gathered his clothes. âYou should clean up and take a break. You worked hard today.â
You watched Heeseung as he wandered out of the room without another word.Â
You clutched your clothes to your body, feeling foolish. Everything was simply a transaction for the dragon hybrid. Obviously he thought he could fuck you and then move on. You tried to pick up the pieces of your heart off the floor along with your discarded clothing. But it was hard.
After the sex session in the room that held most of the modern books Heeseung hoarded, you were unsure where the two of you stood. It had been lovely and Heeseung certainly hadn't ravaged you like a beast, but without any words to soothe your anxiety, you spiraled days later.
âItâs fine,â You spoke to yourself out loud.Â
You decided to rearrange the floppy disks according to color, certain your brain couldn't handle any actual, productive organization at this time. âIâm just another piece of his hoard, after all. He can fuck me then discard me. No strings attached.â
My little bookworm~
The nickname was infuriating, to say the least. You had to admit it matched the scenario, not to mention it made you shiver in a good way the way he crooned it, but infuriating nonetheless. What did it mean?!
âNothing, it means nothing,â You muttered.
You couldn't decide if a floppy disk was cobalt or purple and tossed it in frustration.Â
âAnd you said I was the one that didnât treat my treasures with respect,â Heeseung mused out loud behind you, scaring the shit out of you.
âHeeseung!â You exclaimed, jumping up like you had been caught red-handed.
The dragon hybrid cocked his head curiously at you. âWhatâs got you in such a mood, little bookworm? Usually you hum and are quite happy to do your job. Itâs why you got it, you know. You said you loved to organize. Such happy vibrations are good for the aura of my hoard. Whatâs got your horn in a twist?â
Dragons had weird sayings. Arenât their horns already twisted?
âNothing,â You couldn't help but pout.Â
What was the point of talking about it when you felt silly in the first place? It was just sex, after all. Or thatâs what you tried to tell yourself.
Heeseung had his tail draped elegantly over the crook of his arm, almost like a lady with a long train of her dress. He took a step towards you. âDo you need to unwind? Perhaps we could--â
You threw your hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. âThatâs what got us here in the first place, Heeseung, Iâd rather not.â
The dragon hybrid sent you a confused look. Even with his eyebrows furrowed, he looked delectable. It wasnât fair. âDid you not enjoy it?â
âI did!â You stomped your foot for emphasis. âThatâs the point! I enjoyed it so much, I donât know what my heart feels anymore. And you clearly donât have one.â
The corner of Heeseungâs lip pulled up in a sneer. âAre you saying dragons donât have hearts? I didnât think you were one of those humans. Good enough to fuck but not good enough to give your heart to?â
The silly statement slapped you in the face. âWhat? No, Iâm saying youâve confused me! I think I might like you but youâre so cool and collected. You patted me on the back and sent me on my way afterwards for christ sake!â Your head hung low in defeat. âClearly Iâm the only one thatâs feeling anything here.â
Heeseung chuckled softly. âOh, humans are ridiculous.â
Heeseung pulled you close to him and nuzzled your cheek. âYouâre a part of my hoard now, little bookworm. I claimed you as my own. Doesnât that mean anything to you?â
âThat Iâm your property?â You stated bluntly.
âYou are mine,â Heeseung emphasized. âMine to tease, mine to tempt, mine to love.â
You raised your head hopefully. âSo you did feel something for me when we slept together?â
âIâm a dragon,â Heeseung said teasingly, winking down at you. âI feel deeply about everything. It was up to your human heart to catch up.â
âWell you certainly donât show it well,â You continued to pout.
Heeseung let out a noise, caught between a growl and a laugh. âIâve given you a place in my mansion, let you touch everything I cherish, including my body, and you say I donât show it well? Should I gift you the scroll that Achilles wrote to Patraclus? Shall I find you a scribbled piece of paper with Romeoâs lines to Juliet? Share with you the movie Titanic where great love conquers all? What would you like of me, little bookworm? I would do it all.â
You gape at the most long winded speech you had ever heard from Heeseung. If you were being honest with yourself, youâd listen to him all day if you could. But it wasnât about the lilt of his voice, it was about the contents. Who knew your haughty dragon boss could wax poetic so romantically?
âThat would do it, I suppose,â You couldn't help but sulk.
Heeseung laughed. âDidnât I say I liked you and that I was going to keep you?â
You swallowed, remembering the moment vividly. âDo I still belong in your bed?â
Heeseungâs pupils blew again but instead he responded with. âYou belong in my heart.â
As it turned out, it was Heeseung that had something to teach you about organization.
1- La Gemme at l'extase with Hyunjin {fantasy dragon} | 2- Le Livre at le plaisir with Heeseung {modern dragon} | 3- ??? with San {sci-fi dragon}
#lee heeseung smut#lee heeseung x reader#enhypen smut#heeseung smut#enha smut#heeseung x reader#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#dragon collab trilogy#âenha#topaz's work#recent
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Actually on the topic of jjajang i think its really interesting that she doesnt know how to make noodles. It doesnt seem like she eats them very often either, which is pretty unusual for cr characters - in most cases whenever theres a case of the cookie consuming their own ingredient theyre like an Expert on how to make it and theyre great at judging taste but as she said, shes only ever made instant noodles. I think its too early on in the update for me to really judge so take this with a grain of salt but from what im seeing i think jjajang has focused on work and her high position for so long that shes forgotten what its like to live a little. Cooking fancy food isnt a priority of hers - quick meals are most efficient. not that shes overworked per se, but being humbled and demoted and having to work at a noodle shop started as a really big offense to her but then she started to pick up on how to manage everything and it seems like shes loving it. Shes already making plans to open new locations and sourcing new ingredients so that she can expand a temporary business that was just meant to be a cover up ,,, she seems stressed, sure, but she keeps taking on more orders like she wants to cook more. Plus theres olive, whos been working a ton of casual, minimum-wage jobs and has a friendly charm, while in contrast jjajang is used to having a high and respected position and is utterly clueless as to how to not be intimidating .... i dont know how to word this actually HELP but like i think the contrast there is really important. She hated olive at first and thought he was just a dumb rookie but shes warmed up to him and respects how he uses his previous knowledge to help and is still willing to learn more so he can be even more efficient. I think shes learning a lot from him.
Anyways all of this to say i think that this all basically jjajang finally discovering herself. Discovering a love and passion for cooking, stepping out of her comfort zone and learning from the environment and people around her,,,, im really excited to see the second part to this update because dont get me wrong the writing Bothers me to some degree it fucks with pre-existing crob lore and its just generally confusing (i could elaborate in another post but. theyre so confusing abt this whole sudden alien population that nobody is supposed to know abt??) but aughh my prediction/hope is that in the end jjajang and olive continue to run the resturaunt. Or something. I think its sweet and symbolic how jjajang starts by not knowing how to cook her own ingredient and then finds out that she loves it.... or maybe im reading into this wrong HFSKDJHFKJSDHFJ
#đ rambles#do i maintag.#um um um#i dot know. im scared. AHHHH ill add a disclaimer that i dont think this is all canon im just being silly and rambling........#agent jjajang cookie#agent olive cookie
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Elaboration on my past shameful cc hair practices (I have learned the error of my ways)
Context over there. This here post is an answer to an inquiry by @sillysoraya.
This whole time since I started trying my hand at Sims 2 cc hair recoloring/retexturing, this had been my process: find recolors by a creator whose textures I want to use as a base, export said textures from their recolors via simPE, modify and/or recolor them in GIMP, then make fresh recolor files in bodyshop, reimport them immediately, close bodyshop, promptly delete everything that was generated in the Projects folder, take the new recolor files out of the SavedSims folder, and put my edited textures onto my them by building DTX in simPE.
When I say âtexturesâ, I mean textures that look like this, you know, the ones you see in simPE with the transparent background:
[â that's evannamari's DBrown retexture of Newsea Miles Away]
That's how I do it for clothing, so why wouldn't it work for hair, I told myself naively in my immense hubris.
Well turns out there's a reason why the tutorials (such as this one by DeeDee) tell you to apply the textures not in simPE but in bodyshop. Youâre supposed to put your textures in the Project folder - this kind of texture, that covers more than just the alpha:
[â the texture on the left / the alpha on the right â]
And only then you reimport and let bodyshop do its thing. The alpha will do its job carving out the texture properly (or whatever kind of sorcery happens in there).
Because if you give your recolors the already alphaâd out textures with the transparent background, what I believe happens is as the transparent background gets floodfilled with black during bodyshopâs file creation process, all the parts of the texture that had some wispy half-transparent hairs on them now have a layer of black underneath. Or at least what I know for sure is that those wipsy sections don't turn out looking nice but weirdly wire-y, especially on light recolors. Many hairs donât have wispy strands and therefore are very forgiving (which is why I didnât see a problem when I did the Rosesims hairs for example) but others have plenty of them, like the Newsea hairs. On those, it makes a clear difference. In game, it shows most as you zoom out, for instance in CAS from a face close-up view to a full-body view. Itâs the same principle as this seam problem I had a while ago (and several times since), with clothing texture that was floodfilled with white too close to the borders of the texture mapping. When you zoomed out, the white would start showing.
Anyway, this is definitely stuff that creators in the community have known for 20 years and itâs 100% my fault for not following a hair tutorial and instead relying on prior knowledge of clothing-making that turned out not to be applicable 1:1.
Iâm sure I still have a lot to learn on hair retexturing even after figuring this out. I was working on Newsea Yesenia when I had the realization that I was doing things wrong, but before I upload anything else, Iâm gonna go back and look at all of the hairs Iâve done so far, fix them up when needed, learn more. Fortunately I think all of the Fakeblood gender conversions are fine but Iâll check and get back to you on that, thereâs something I need to investigate. Edit: yes, all the gender conversions and copy-pasta of other people's unedited textures are completely fine, thank god.
Seems like as long as the texture didn't go through GIMP's import-export, it's fine, even if I didn't apply it via the Projects folder.
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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter four
well itâs love, make it hurt series
four: some place we can be ourselves
series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter
dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: The Mandalorian buys you a present.
Warnings: BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, Dom!Din and sub!reader, soft Dom!Din, pain play, nipple play, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), collaring (collar in the moodboard is not completely what I wanted. tell me not to have it commissioned just for the purpose of a photo lol), some feelings
Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 6: Collar, inspired by @absurdthirst's wonderful prompt list, without which I probably would not have written anything.
also on ao3
3 ABY - Fall
Neither of you were squeamish; you couldnât be. Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. You had seen Mando burn his skin back together. He had seen you stitch up a gash on your leg.
So why was the slowly fading ring of bruises around your neck so hard for him to look at? Was he still mad about the botched job and your behavior that night? Or did it simply disgust him to see marks on you made by any other hand?
Whatever it was, he needed to get over it. The worst damage had been healed by the bacta spray on the first night, and you refused to waste more over bruising.
You were starting to get mad, now that you thought about it. You had just been examining the wounds in the mirror of the fresher. You had just gotten out, dried off, and dressed when you caught sight of your reflection.
You were up on your toes, neck craned to see around the sides. It was healing up nicely. You ran your fingers over the delicate skin, and it was far less tender. It was almost pleasant, the dull ache when you pressed on them.
Mando chose that moment to walk past. He stopped, staring at you for a half second, and hit the button to close the fresher door on you.
âHey!â you smacked the door with your hand. âWhat was that for?â
But when it slid back open, the hull was empty.
You were heading out in the morning for a hunt, one that promised a challenge. As glad as you were for an interesting job, it also meant you and Mando were essentially hands-off until there was a new carbonite slab on the ship.
So really, he was going to have to get over it or live without getting his dick wet for another week. Given the voracity of his libido so far, the latter seemed unlikely.
While Mando putters around in the hull eating his dinner, you curl up in your seat in the cockpit with a book on the datapad. Your routine had settled quietly into this rhythmâhe could eat without rushing, you could read without him groping at you, and you both got time alone. For two people who had been mostly solitary before, it was invaluable.
âIâm running into town,â he calls up the ladder.
âWhat? What for?â you yell back, but it's drowned by the pneumatics of the ramp. âWhat the fuck?â you say to the empty ship.
By the time he returned, the suns had set, and the moss-dripping trees outside were thick and dark. You had dozed off in your seat, feet tucked under you and head resting on your folded arms. The datapad had slipped down between your knee and the seat.
He shook your shoulder, and you stirred. Not for the first time, you marveled at how deep you could sleep here. How you had stopped flinching for your blaster. You blink up at him, a smile breaking out, until you remember why you had fallen asleep there.
âHey, what the kriff was that? You just took off, likeââ You helpfully demonstrate with a little wave of your hand and a whoosh.
He stares down at you, head cocked, hand still on your shoulder. âWhatâs with the outfit?â He waves a hand at you in what you're sure is a rude mockery of your previous gesture.
Oh, right. The outfit. It didnât seem so clever now. You had wrapped yourself in an elaborate headscarf that hung over you like a hood with a tasseled cowl. And, well, nothing else. Your blanket had slipped when you sat up.
You were supposed to be waiting for him bare. Accessible. Ready. And to the little bratty voice in the back of your head that was so mad at him earlier, this was compliant. He didnât say you couldnât accessorize. It wasnât denying him access to your body.
Right now, though, as he put a hand on one hip and glared down at you, it felt like maybe you were in trouble.
âI, um.â Stars, why did you think this was a good idea? You thought you could confront him about the bruises and maybe get a little roughed up in the process. And you would have enjoyed it earlier, but now, suddenly, it feels like you might cry if he yells at you.
He hasnât moved, hasnât spoken. You know when youâre being given a second chance, so you swallow hard and look back up at him.
âIâm sorry. I was kind of trying to push you, it seemed like a good idea, but I donât want to anymore, I promise.â
âWhy?â
âWhy what? Why did I want to, or why do I not want to?â
He sighs heavily. âWhy did you want to?â
You look down at where the datapad is lodged, picking at the edge of the cushion with your nail. âI was trying to make you mad,â you mumble.
He tilts your chin up with a bare hand. You hadnât even noticed him take the gloves off, but it feels so nice that you almost forget you're trying to talk your way out of trouble.
âSweetheart. Why would you want me to be mad at you? If you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask nicely.â
At the low rumble of his wicked words, you no longer feel the cold of the cockpit. Your mouth waters, and youâre hyper-aware of how hard your nipples are, how exposed.
âIâkind of? No, I meanââ You canât concentrate anymore. His finger that was stroking your cheek brushes across your bottom lip, and you open automatically, waiting. Begging. He pulls it away, and you whine.
âHmm. Not yet. I want you to finish explaining yourself.â
âI had hurt feelings.â It punches out of you, and youâre mortified to realize it's the truth. You had been telling yourself you were mad, and maybe you were, but you had been lashing out like a hurt massiff.
Mando squats down beside the chair, and you turn, crossing your legs so you can face him. âWhat did I do that hurt your feelings, pretty girl?â
âItâs stupid, Iâm being stupid. Iâmââ
His hand snaps out, and unlike the gentle touch earlier, he grips your jaw tight before slapping you sharply across the face with his other hand. You yelp, more from surprise than pain.
âWhat have I said about that? Are you allowed to talk about yourself that way?â
âNo, sir,â you whisper.
âAnd why not?â
âBecause Iâm yours, and if Iâm disrespecting myself, it means Iâm disrespecting you.â It was a lesson you had learned over his knee on more than one occasion.
âGood girl. Now tell me why youâre upset.â
âItâs like you canât even look at me anymore, when you can see my neck. Iâm sorry I fucked up; Iâm sorry itâs ugly. I thought if I covered it up, maybe, maybeâŚâ
Your words die in your throat as he stands up off the floor, rubbing a tired hand over his helmet. He snaps his fingers, jerking a thumb toward the pilot seat. âGet up, câmon, Iâm not doing this here.â
You scramble to your feet, confused and a little scared. Doing what? Oh, kriff, what had you gotten yourself into?
âGrab your pillow, baby,â he called from across the room without looking.
You double back for it. He was settled in his chair when you reached him, so you let it fall with a soft thwomp before lowering yourself to your knees.
âLook at me,â he orders. âAnd take that off.â
Fuck. Someday youâd get it through your head and stop giving in to the urge to hide. He hated it, but it was one of the few holdups you still had.
When you obey, tossing the scarf out of sight, he reaches down and wraps his hand around the side of your neck, avoiding most of the bruising. âI didnât look because I didnât want you to be disgusted by me.â
You furrow your brow, opening your mouth to speak, but thinking better of it.
âYou were so upset about what happened on that hunt. And I hate that it was someone else who put those there. But stars, baby, do you look beautiful all marked up. I want to sink my hands in until youâre wearing my fingerprints all the time.â
Your mouth falls open, throat dry, and you shift around on your knees. âFuck.â
âIâm sorry.â
âWhat, no. Just. Fuck, thatâs so hot.â
He leans back, studying you. âYou know, I never want you to try something youâre not comfortable with just because itâll please me.â
âIâm not, I swear. I couldnât stop looking at them in the mirror and wishing it had been you.â
He swears darkly, leaning forward so suddenly you flinch back a little. His hand cups your cunt between your spread legs, and he swipes a finger through your folds and holds it up. Itâs soaked. He chuckles. âGood girl,â and shoves the finger between your lips with no pretense.
You close your lips around the digit, sucking and watching him through wide eyes. You whine when he pulls it out.
âAs much as I would like to mark you up, cyarâika, itâs not safe. But I did have an idea for something almost as good.â He reaches into a pouch on his belt and holds up a strip of leather.
It doesnât register right away. You stare at it and then at him. He holds it out to you flat on both hands, and you gasp. You've never seen one outside of the holos he's shown you, but you recognize it all the same.
The leather is soft and supple in the same brown as his bandolier. It has a simple double-loop closure. You run your fingers over it for a moment before he snatches it back to dangle it just out of your reach.
âI take it you like it.â
You hold your hands in your lap, biting your bottom lip and whining. He laughs and runs a hand through your hair.
âYou want it, sweetheart? Want to wear my collar so everyone knows youâre mine?â
âPlease,â you beg over and over.
âYou are mine, right? My sweet, obedient girl.â
âYes, sir, please. Iâll be so good for you.â
He laughs. âOf course you will, needy thing. Youâre already all mine. Look at you, trying so hard to please me.â
Your face goes hot. After the last few months of him talking to you like this, you thought youâd stop being embarrassed, but it only seems to get worse.
âCâmere,â he says, voice softer as he leans back. âWant you up here so I can see.â
You scramble onto his lap, straddling him. He pulls you closer so your wet cunt smears where he strains against the flight suit, and you moan.
âCan I put it on you?â
Youâre already whispering a litany of pleas before he finishes the sentence.
You stop breathing when he reaches around you, holding as still as you can. You want to feel every second of it. He gently lifts your hair out of the way to settle the strap behind your neck before pulling the ends to meet in the front. He slides it into place, tucking two fingers between the collar and your neck.
âHowâs it feel, ner cyare?â
You donât ask about the new Mandoâa. Heâs never told you what cyarâika means, either. Not that youâve asked. He says it with enough fondness that you trust itâs not mean, and this sounds the same. Not that you arenât curious. But the only things you know about Mandalorians are things heâs told you of his own volition, and youâre afraid to push.
Your eyes are watering. You trace your fingers over the collar with shaky hands. Youâre terrified, actually, because this feels like something heavier than the other ways you play. âI love it,â you whisper.
He tugs on it, yanking you closer to him, before pulling it back, grinning at the way you let your body be moved at his will. âI think I like this a lot.â He holds you in place with it, pinching and tugging on your nipples. He gives your tits a few sharp smacks to feel the way you jerk in his lap.
âReady for me, baby?â he teases.
You know itâs rhetorical, especially given that heâs already pulled his cock out, but you moan a âyes, please, sir,â just to see the way it makes him twitch. He smacks your clit twice with the head of his cock and then just shoves it all the way in.
He tugs the collar, pulling you to bend forward at an awkward angle.
âWatch, pretty girl. Look how greedy your little pussy is. Look how well you take me.â
You canât look away. Heâs splitting you in half, the pressure sharp and incredible, but youâd never know it from the way your walls and lips are hugging his shaft, beckoning him in. He flicks your clit while youâre watching, but you still jerk back at the sting. Youâre stopped short by the collar, and he laughs and does it again.
He pinches and twists at it while you make broken little sounds, moans and cries, and you squirm to get out of range of his cruel fingers. But you canât. Heâs got you pinned so well between the cage of his thighs, bent up behind you, and the grip on your collar.
He only takes pity on you when he moves his attention back to your swollen nipples.
âSâit hurt?â he pants.
You whimper.
âReally? 'Cause youâre fucking soaked, cyarâika, and your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight. I think you like it.â He flicks your nipple to punctuate his words.
âI do, I do like it, please. Like anything you do to me.â
âThose are dangerous words, sweetheart.â
âNuh-uh,â you grunt, face twisting as he tugs hard before switching back to your clit. âNnn. Trust you.â
He pinches a little harder than he means to, struck by the sweet way you bare yourself to him. His fingers dip down to gather some of the slick youâre leaking around his cock, and he brings them back up to your clit, rubbing firm, tight circles.
He drops your collar and grabs your jaw, pistoning his hips up harder so the wet slap of your bodies echoes in the cockpit. âWhose cunt is this?â
âYours, sir,â you gasp.
âYeah? Whose beautiful, perfect slut is this?â
âYours, sir.â
âCum for me, cyarâika.â He presses down hard on your clit, and his hips stutter when you immediately clench down, body jerking. He grabs you by the collar and holds you upright so you donât fall as you twitch and scream.
He doesnât ease up, rubbing hard at your clit. âAnother one. Now.â
You donât know how he does it. You never have to force it. He knows your body like his armory, knows how much pressure it takes to pull the trigger, knows right when to fire. Youâve never not cum when he commanded.
âDown,â he snaps after youâve come apart on him a few more times over.
You slide off immediately, sinking down onto the pillow, mouth open and tongue out. Your hands lay in your lap, palms up, and you even remember to keep your eyes open.
âFuck, youâre such a good girl for me,â he groans, stroking himself furiously before shoving into your throat as he spills. You take it all, eyes on him as you watch him fall apart for once. His shaky hand strokes through your hair as he comes down before settling around your neck just below the collar.
He pulls you back up into his lap, askew so your legs dangle over one side of the chair, and he can tuck your head against his chest. Youâre shaking and softly crying as he wraps you up in your forgotten blanket.
âThank you,â he murmurs into your hair. âAnd cyar'ika?â
You look up at him, sniffling and trying to blink back the last of your tears.
âYou did so good telling me when you were upset.â
You bury your face in his unforgiving chest plate, and he allows you the moment to hide. Someday, he thinks, maybe youâll believe him.
*Title from "Beat Up Car" by Taking Back Sunday. (what is the Razor Crest if not a beat up car persevering?)
#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fic#din djarin x f!reader#kinktober 2023#corazondebeskar-reads and writes#mistakes have been made#i love them your honor#make it hurt verse
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alright, since some of you seem to agree with my thoughts, i think i'll elaborate a bit
sweeney todd's autism diagnosis
this might be a bit lengthy so ill spare you the scroll if youre not interested.
stiff movements (this isnt really a dancer's role)
lack of expression, tends to look either sad or angry most of the time. could just be the trauma tho
weird stilted way of speaking (hearn specific)
generally quiet and reserved outside of emotional outbursts (again, trauma)
strong sense of justice - "at the top of the hole sit the privileged few making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo"
entirely fixated on razors when reacquiring them, completely oblivious to mrs lovett talking about her massive crush on him
doesnt know what to do with his hands when not holding anything - "at last, my arm is complete again!"
[shaving contest /w pirelli and aftermath]
doesnt bother with any flash or flair, gets straight to work and gets the job done
becomes agitated and paces when expecting the beadle to arrive at his barber shop but doesnt know when (gotta have a schedule)
[epiphany]
if this isnt a textbook meltdown idk what is
mood swings (man goes through every stage of grief twice in the span of 3 minutes)
lashing out - "alright! you sir! how about a shave?"
mrs lovett trying to calm him down just upsets him even more
[a little priest]
doesnt understand what mrs lovett's hints at at first
asks what unfamiliar food is before trying it, as if hes hesitant to try new things
definitely an odd sense of humor
wordplay. so much wordplay.
more tactile stimming, this time with suspenders (hearn)
[god thats good]
upset because the package he was told would arrive by 5:45 is 15 minutes late (his SCHEDULE is RUINED)
once the chair arrives, becomes agitated when he cant get mrs lovett to stay and watch him open it (PLEASE let me share my interests!!!!)
once again calling for lovett's attention, this time to set up a system of communication. he just really wants to make sure she isnt missing his cues
[by the sea]
several minutes of sweeney being completely absorbed in his own thoughts while giving half-assed responses to at least pretend like he heard any of that nonsense
[wigmaker sequence]
time to infodump
possible echolalia? - "the madhouse? the madhouse!"
[finale]
upset that he now has to go find toby when hes expecting the judge to arrive soon (the schedule!)
doesnt seem to be aware of how threatening he sounds while calling for the kid
after killing the judge, suddenly remembers he was supposed to catch toby and runs out only to realize he didnt grab his razor (only has enough working memory for one task at a time)
im sure there are other details i missed, especially since everyone's performance is different, so feel free to add on
#sweeney todd#character interpretation#idk why m so invested in this#but cringe is dead and im having fun so fuck it we ball
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Bus stop Pt. 5
Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x F!reader
M!reader version will be out in the next few days :^)
Includes: brief mentions of past violence, allusion to ptsd/trauma, fluff, angsty themes
Summary: after much persuasion, Adam starts going to therapy. After a few sessions he's ready to face one of his biggest fears.
Adam and y/n sat in the waiting room of the therapist's office. The couple had been together for six months now, and y/n, who had always proudly gone to and advocated for therapy her whole life, had finally convinced Adam to make an appointment. This was y/n's regular therapist, Dr Luther Graham, a grey haired man in his sixties. He was exactly what you would picture if you imagined santa claus working a day job, a plump and rosy cheeked man with a long snowy white beard stuffed into a suit and suspenders. He was the sort of person anyone would feel safe talking to, which is why y/n was so sure that Adam would benefit from a session with him. Of course Adam, who was skeptical about therapy as a whole, was reluctant to pay him a visit, and only conceded that he would be willing to give therapy a try if y/n promised to go with him.
The waiting room felt like a living room from the sixties, with brown walls, art deco chairs (which looked fun, but weren't the most comfortable), and yellow mood lighting. The room felt welcoming, but in a clinical way, as though it was an alien's perception of what a human home was supposed to feel like, Adam supposed. The brown walls were adorned with certificates and plaques boasting Dr Graham's qualifications. Adam assumed that these were meant to inspire confidence in patients that this was a legitimate doctor who knew what he was doing, but for him they only reminded him of his own lack of high school diploma.
Adam's fingers were entangled with y/n's as the pair sat quietly, waiting to be called into the office. He suddenly felt a small squeeze on his hand, and turned to look at y/n.
"You're biting at your lip again, sweetie" she whispered, "what's wrong?"
Adam shook his head
"Just... this is all kinda new to me"
Y/n gave him a sympathetic smile
"Doctor Graham is lovely, I promise, you don't need to be frightened. If you really don't like it once we get in there, we can go straight home, but you'll be so proud of yourself for at least giving it a try"
Adam smiled weakly, and held y/n's hand tighter.
A wooden door creaked open, and out popped a smiling Doctor Graham's head.
"You must be Adam" he beamed, "come on in, I'm sure y/n's already told you about how this all works"
Adam shot y/n a terrified look.
"Oh, Doctor Graham, Adam was hoping I would be able to come in with him for his first session, just to make him feel more safe" y/n said calmly
"That's absolutely fine, whatever makes you most comfortable, Adam" Dr Graham smiled.
In the office were two sofas facing eachother, one which seated Doctor Graham, the other Adam and y/n. The silence was punctuated only by the ticking of an ancient looking grandfather clock, until Dr Graham spoke.
"So Adam, why don't you start by telling me a bit about yourself?
Adam turned to look at y/n, almost for approval. His eyes were asking "can I trust him? Can I tell him about me?"
"Go on, sweetheart, you don't need to be afraid" y/n encouraged him.
Adam let out a deep breath and began to speak.
"My name is Adam, I'm twenty-six and I'm a photographer. Oh, and I was kidnapped by a serial killer a few months back" he scoffed, in that familiar unserious tone.
It wasn't that Adam took what he went through lightly, quite the opposite in fact, it was just that he could only even begin to broach the subject in a jokey manner or else he'd begin to spiral.
"Would you care to elaborate on that last point for me, Adam?" Doctor Graham enquired.
"I don't really like talking about it" Adam replied.
"I understand that, not wanting to talk about a traumatic event isn't unusual. But I'm certain you often think about what you endured. Perhaps you might find some comfort in articulating those thoughts out loud, Adam. Legally I can't tell anyone about what's said in this room, so it would be just as private as your thoughts, only this way you get some advice in return" Dr Graham said.
Adam stared at his feet and considered what the doctor had said. If he was being honest with himself, it sounded like a good deal, but he was still unsure.
"You know, Adam," y/n said, "maybe you'd feel like you could talk more freely if I stepped outside? People tend to get the most out of therapy when they have privacy"
Adam shook his head
"No, I can't do this without you, don't leave" his voice had a tinge of desperation to it, and his grip on her hand tightened, something which Doctor Graham seemed to pick up on.
"You've made it clear that you feel safer in y/n's company, why is that, Adam? Enlighten me" he asked.
Adam let out a deep breath that he didn't know he was holding.
"Y/n takes care of me and we love eachother, why wouldn't I want her to stay?"
"Well that makes sense, but judging from your reaction when you thought she might leave the room, perhaps it's less to do with you feeling comforted by her presence, but moreso afraid of her absence. Tell me, Adam, have you experienced any significant abandonment in your life?"
Adam was absolutely floored by this, Doctor Graham seemed to be able to read him like a book. His bit his lip and stared at the floor, his body tense and uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat.
"I suppose you could say that, yeah... when I was being held captive there was this doctor who was being held with me, he managed to escape and he said he'd get help but the asshole never came back."
His voice was laced with anger and hurt.
"Thank you for sharing that, Adam, I know that must have been difficult for you" Dr Graham said, "is the fear of abandonment a regular thought for you?"
Adam nodded
"I try not to let it get to me but... I don't know, I guess it's something I worry about a lot"
The conversion got a lot deeper over the hour long session, Adam opened up about his time spent in the bathroom, about how he was scared of the dark and how the sound of metal clanging put him straight back in that room. And of course, how bathrooms as a whole were something he did his best to avoid, only showering if he really had to. Dry shampoo and deodorant had been his best friends for the last few months.
"Well, that about wraps it up for today's session. Well done for being so candid and honest Adam, I hope you'll benefit from this"
"Um... thanks" Adam bit his fingernail nervously, but managed a small smile. He really was proud of himself.
"Do you think maybe... I could book another one of these? For like next week or something?" He asked shyly.
"Of course, I'm very glad you've found this helpful" Doctor Graham beamed, "I'll book you in for the same time next week?"
...
Later that day, y/n was over at Adam's apartment folding up some of his clothes and putting them away, while Adam sat on the bed bundled up with a blanket draped over his shoulders. He had been feeling somewhat vulnerable after opening up and reliving his trauma earlier on, so he was enjoying being babied a bit. Y/n had made him a warm mug of tea and taken care of any chores he needed doing around the apartment, just to give him some time to recover.
Although Adam did indeed look adorable all wrapped up, he was beginning to smell... ripe was the kind way to put it.
"Sweetheart?" Y/n asked
"Hm?"
"I was thinking about what you said earlier, about not liking bathrooms... and I was wondering if I could help you with that?"
Adam froze, his entire body tense and immediately afraid.
"Only if and when you're comfortable, maybe I could run you a bath and I'll get in with you, to make sure you know you're not on your own?"
Adam bit his lip and looked away, embarrassed.
Of course he wanted that in theory, sharing a relaxing bath with his beautiful girlfriend was any man's dream, but the reality? He was frightened. He could barely take a two minute shower, let alone a full bath.
"You don't have to make any decisions yet, but when you're ready I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?" Y/n said, her voice soft and gentle, as though she were worried that she may scare him away.
Adam nodded, and retreated further into his blanket, feeling uneasy at the prospect of taking a bath.
"Oh sweetheart, come here" y/n said lovingly, taking a seat beside him and wrapping her arms around him, "I don't care how long it takes, I'm never giving up on you baby"
She pressed a kiss into Adam's temple, as his body relaxed and fell into her, clinging onto her tshirt tightly.
...
A week later, Adam was due to stay at y/n's house overnight. He'd had an appointment with Doctor Graham earlier on in the day, alone this time, and had reached the conclusion that he was ready to tackle his fear of bathrooms. He was terrified, but he knew it was time. He texted y/n.
Adam: I think I want to try having a bath
Y/n: sweetheart, I'm so proud of you! Do you want to try at my place tonight?
Adam: yeah, I think I do
But I'm still really nervous
I might chicken out at the last minute
Y/n: the fact that you're even considering it is such a huge step, well done baby :) how about when you come over, ill run you a bath and you can decide later if you think you're ready to get in. We'll take this at your pace, okay honey?
Adam: that sounds good. Thank you :)
Adam arrived at y/n's apartment feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He hated feeling so helpless, so vulnerable. He wanted nothing more than to overcome his fear, but it was difficult for him. Every thought in his brain was screaming at him to turn on his heels and run home, but he wanted to be brave, and he knocked on the door.
Y/n welcomed him in with a smile and a much needed hug, before escorting him to the sofa and placing an already made mug on hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of him. She'd made it just the way Adam liked, with marshmallows and lots of cream- he had a real sweet tooth.
"I know you're nervous, but I want you to know that you don't have to do this if you don't think you're ready. Just relax and enjoy your drink, no one's gonna be upset if you don't think you can do it yet" y/n cooed, sensing Adam's fear before he had even spoke.
"Thank you" he smiled weakly, "I was thinking, maybe we could start with me just standing in the doorway to the bathroom, and I can watch while you run the bath? Just to get myself prepared?"
Y/n felt her heart ache. She was so proud of her sweet boy for being so brave, he really was trying, but it just killed her to see him so scared. Something so small, just being in a bathroom made this grown man tremble with fear like a beaten dog. She silently cursed the name jigsaw for doing this to such a sweet man.
"Alright sweetheart, if you think that might help" she replied, wiping a small bit of hot chocolate off of the corner of Adam's mouth, making him chuckle slightly.
Adam finished his drink, and hesitantly followed y/n to her bathroom. It was a simple room, not much that was worthy of note, but one thing which comforted Adam was the cleanliness of it all. No dirt, no grime, it even had a light floral smell emanating from a bowl of potpourri on the windowsill.
He stood in the doorway to the room, hugging himself and watching longingly as his girlfriend fearlessly entered the room. He wished that he could do that too.
"Alright, babe, I'm gonna turn the tap on now, I'll make sure we get the bath nice and warm okay?"
Adam couldn't speak
"Look, I've even got some bubblebath to try and make it feel a bit less serious" she comforted, showing a bottle of lavender scented bubblebath to him.
"O.. okay" Adam nodded.
As the minutes went by, Adam watched as the tub filled up, and the time to actually enter the room drew closer. With every passing second his heartbeat grew stronger, until he swore he could practically taste his pulse. He swallowed a lump that seemed to be forming in his throat and bit his lip, like he always did when he was anxious.
"Are you ready?" Y/n's voice interrupted his train of thought.
Adam shook his head, "I don't ever think I'll be ready" he laughed wearily, trying not to let himself spiral. Despite the way he felt, Adam began to get undressed, pushing through his fear as best as he could.
Y/n had removed her clothes as well and was ready to get into the bath.
"You wanna do this together?" She asked, holding her hand out for Adam to take it. His own hand trembled like a leaf, he breathed heavily through his nose, as he shut his eyes and took a step forward into the bathroom.
"Well done, sweetheart, you're doing so well"
He flinched slightly as his bare feet touched the cold tile ground, a feeling he knew all too well, but soon his feet found themselves on a soft and fluffy bathmat, and his fears depleted.
Stood next to the bath, hand in hand with y/n, Adam stared down into the water. The last time he'd been in a bath was when he had woken up in one, fully clothed, freezing and shackled to a pipe. This was nothing like that, he thought. The water looked warm and enticing, almost welcoming.
"You don't have to if you don't want-"
"No." Adam cut y/n off, "I need to do this. I.. I don't want to be scared anymore"
His words sounded confident, but his voice trembled. Tightening his grip on y/n's hand, he stepped into the water.
Y/n stepped in with him, her soft hands making their way around his body, holding him in a tight hug.
"Baby, I'm so proud of you" she whispered, kissing his cheek.
Adam gulped, he could feel his breaths becoming shallow, but he knew it was now or never.
"If.. if I sit down will you hold me?" He asked, his lips quivering
"Of course honey, I'll even wash your hair for you" y/n replied, her voice calm and reassuring. Everything about her brought Adam peace, she was his personal sanctuary. If she was with him, he could do anything.
With a deep breath, Adam sat down in the bath, leaning back into y/n's chest and letting the warm water run over his body. Y/n was hugging him tightly from behind, placing gentle kisses into the crook of his neck.
"So brave, I'm so proud of you honey"
Adam relaxed into her touch. He didn't say much, just allowed himself to feel her loving hands all over him. The way they carefully massaged his scalp with a sweet smelling shampoo, the way they gently caressed his bullet wound, accompanied by whispers of how handsome he was. An endless string of "I love you" and "I'm so proud of you" was all Adam could hear, not the sound of cold, damp dripping, the rattling of chains, or even his own thoughts. Unbelievably, he felt perfectly calm.
Once the bath was over, Adam got changed into a pair of pyjamas that y/n had bought specifically for when he stayed over. Snuggled up in bed together, he felt a sense of hope for the first time in a while. He was getting better, life was starting to be worth living.
A/n hello! Sorry this took so long to get out, I've had the flu and i haven't been able to write much without falling asleep lol. Sorry this isn't my best work, but I'm sure it's at least enjoyable! Also, I need Adam related suggestions because I'm feeling a bit lost for new ideas lately, so please leave a request! It can be something you might want to see in the bus stop series, or perhaps just a standalone fic with Adam, or some headcanons etc - anything really! I love getting requests :^)
Hope everyone is having a good new year so far! :^)
#adam faulkner stanheight#adam saw#saw adam#adam faulkner#adam faulkner x reader#adam stanheight#adam stanheight x reader#adam faulkner stanheight x reader#saw 2004#saw franchise#saw fanfic#sawposting#x you#x reader#x yn#x f!reader#x female reader#fluff
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the next 3 dual-wielders are here!
individual images and more info on each of these guys under the cut.
FOSSIL FUEL
"A blast from the past!"
Youthful and spunky, Fossil Fuel always wanted to be more than just an ordinary dinosaur. Now that sheâs a Dual-Wielder, sheâs finally living that dream, and her incredible speed and wicked kicks prove that she has what it takes to be a hero.
---
Millions of years ago, in the distant past, dinosaurs roamed the Skylands. Well, they didnât roam the entirety of Skylands â their main city was the Cretaceous Castle, and the majority of dinosaurs lived in or near that area. Unfortunately for the residents of Cretaceous Castle, a meteorite struck the castle and wiped them all out.
In the not-as-distant past, another meteorite struck the exact same spot, which was now overgrown ruins with not a living creature in sight. However, this meteorite was bursting with Undead elemental energy, and all the dinosaurs pulled themselves up out of the ground and went straight back to whatever they were doing before, only fossilised now.
A museum was built around the crater and quickly became a popular tourist destination. Fossil Fuel had been hired as a janitor â a job she wasnât particularly excited for, but it was a first step, she supposed â and was about to start her first day of work. Before she could even pick up a mop, a massive explosion from the impact crater shook the whole museum. Running as fast as she could, Fossil Fuel was the first to reach the crater, where a massive geyser of pure magic had burst from the earth.
Something within her took over, and without another moment of hesitation, Fossil Fuel reached out and touched the roaring geyser. She felt the powers of the Earth and Undead elements flow through her, and immediately knew she had to find the Giga-Geyser. There would always be someone else to clean the museum floors, but nobody else could be the Earth & Undead Dual-Wielder.
SPRAY PAIN
"Ink or sink!"
While better known for their street art than their combat skills, the once-anonymous Spray Pain is still a force on the battlefield, using their own ink collected in spray cans as a deadly weapon.
---
For years, Spray Pain was a name that was as famous as it was mysterious. Nobody knew who they were, but everyone knew their art as it appeared out of nowhere on walls from Woodburrow to Rumbletown, with no trace of who did it aside from the distinctive stencilled style and strange black paint that seemed to be made from Mermasquid ink.
One night, Spray Pain was painting a stencil on the walls of Cyclops City, when a massive magical geyser erupted from the royal menagerie, destroying the animal enclosures and setting the creatures within loose upon the city. Citizens were panicking, guards were fruitlessly trying to fend off the horde of animals, and Spray Pain had to make a choice. They could disappear in the carnage, staying safe and secret but leaving Cyclops City to fend for itself, or they could sacrifice their anonymity and try to save the city.
Running was tempting, but they knew what they had to do. Spray Pain leapt into action, subduing the animals with cans upon cans of paint, turning the streets of Cyclops City into a strange abstract canvas. Their identity was no longer a secret, but at least the city was saved. It was then that the spirit of the geyser emerged, and offered Spray Pain control over the Water and Tech elements if they became a Dual-Wielder. Realising they needed a change of career now, Spray Pain accepted.
HOODWINK
"Watch out!"
Straight out of a millennia-old tomb, Hoodwink makes ancient magic look easy in combat. The modern world has a lot of things that are new to him, like ârobotsâ and âthe Skylandersâ and âupdog,â but heâs getting used to it.
---
Hoodwink was a well-respected oracle in an ancient Cyclops society⌠until he died of an unknown illness, which made it a bit hard for him to perform his oracle duties. He was given an elaborate burial in a fancy tomb, and spent the next several thousand years in there having a presumably great time being dead.
His eternal rest ended up not being very eternal at all when a geyser erupted beneath him and he opened his eye for the first time in millennia, seeing a bright blue sky instead of the ceiling of his tomb. As Hoodwink looked around, he noticed a very panicked geyser spirit apologising profusely to him. The spirit explained to Hoodwink that he now had the ability to control both the Magic and Undead elements, and told him to go seek out a group calling themselves the Dual-Wielders.
More confused than anything, Hoodwink set out on this quest, which fortunately wasnât too difficult - he pretty quickly ran into some of the Dual-Wielders, who were on their way to the very geyser that had disturbed his slumber.
#skllet art#skylanders#skylanders dual-wielders#skylanders oc#skllet oc#oc: fossil fuel#oc: spray pain#oc: hoodwink
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fuck it I'm elaborating on that last post actually. My preface is that I don't work in or study marketing, but I had to do extensive unit on it for my actual course which means while I'm not an expert I do know enough that the arc annoys the shit out of me! This is a disorganized rant on my part, no one read too much into it.
POINT A.1
a lot of the work we see Keeley do in season one and two isn't actually PR, it's brand coordination. That's a separate department to Public Relations. They both fall under the marketing department umbrella, and there is an overlap in responsibilities depending on the size of the corporate entity but they aren't the same thing!
This doesn't actually matter that much, and sometimes it varies from company to company how marketing teams are structured anyway but it bothers me that it's called PR when she's doing Brand Coordination! They aren't the same thing!
POINT A.2
jumping off from point A.1 into the actual rant, the show likes to treat Keeley as an all-rounder, which I'm sure is just for convenience sake so they don't have to write in or hire actors to actually be Richmond's marketing department, but I think that's stupid! Most corporate marketing and communications roles in real life require at least a bachelors degree, she wouldn't have the necessary knowledge or experience to fulfill multiple of these roles at once.
Which leads me to my actual point, which is that Keeley is supposed to be a self made character but they consistently just hand her things.
Rebecca just hands her a job she isn't qualified for, very similarly to what she does to Ted, only with Keeley her motivations are to provide Keeley with a new avenue* in life rather than Keeley actively seeking these opportunities for herself! It's not self made if Keeley isn't trying to make it happen for herself.
I will admit it's been a while since I properly watched season one, so I might be wrong about that above statement, but it doesn't change the fact Keeley, much like Ted and probably even moreso than Ted who is at least qualified to coach to some degree, is not qualified for the job that Rebecca just hands her in any formal capacity.
(*side note; I can't remember if Rebecca was being genuine or trying to sabotage the club some more when she offered Keeley the job, but if she was doing the latter that is an entirely separate rant)
Then, they just hand her her own company she is equally underqualified for! She has maybe a year of formal marketing experience at the time, she has no formal training and she is a free lancer with one known client. They never show us Keeley working for anyone but Richmond! in fact, she works within Richmond, so it's safe to say they are literally her only client!
look, I'm not saying it's impossible for her to have gotten a free lance PR job at Richmond, that isn't actually my main concern with Keeley's arc, it's a good starting point, but it's important that it's acknowledged that Keeley isn't as prepared for the role as she could be. It's a conflict and conflict is what makes stories interesting.
My main problem is that they ignore the fact she isn't qualified, make her seem perfect and on top of everything, give her multiple legs up via friendship nepotism and dumb luck, and then when she is finally shown to be struggling, the rug is swept out from under her due to external, bullshit factors that have nothing to do with her actual professional struggles. And then she gets bailed out, via more friendship nepotism. It's BORING! You had a perfect plot sitting right there and you stepped over it!
POINT B
But Asteria, I hear you asking, why do you keep calling Keeley a free lancer? Because, dear reader, if she actually worked for Richmonds Marketing department, she would be in their marketing department!
There are mutliple interconnecting roles in a marketing department, data analysts, social media teams, media coordinators! They typically work together in an office building, similar to Keeley's PR company! There are a lot of different roles and a lot of different employees involved! think cubicles and break rooms, not a private office in the dungeon of a stadium.
So, Keeley from what the show tells and shows, is a free lance PR consultant not for the stadium itself, but for members of the team and later the greyhounds as an entity. This is where I would veer off course!
Instead of ending season two with a bullshit out of the blue here's your own company girl boss arc, I'd have Rebecca offer Keeley some kind of formal training avenue to get some more experience, build up her portfolio, and make progress in her career via some kind of internship or traineeship with Nelson Roads marketing team.
Why does this cause conflict? Because Keeley sucks at it! Keeley, for as friendly and sociable as she is, is not a corporate team player. She canonically doesn't understand corporate etiquette, she doesn't respect a lot of corporate practices, and to the people who have actually spent years of their lives studying and working for their positions, she doesn't deserve to be there!
She's there because she's a rich model whose friends with their millionaire boss. She's not self made to them, she hasn't come from nothing, she owns a mansion and wears designer almost exclusively. She has weekly lunch with the owner of their company, she was dating their star player and now she's dating the assistant coach, she got hired with no experience or education because she has friends in high places, if I was some poor marketing employee with student debt who worked my ass off to be there? I'd be pissed off, I wouldn't like her!
and Keeley is a very make her own way person, she isn't prepared for the rules and parameters that working in a corporate environment has! She also isn't used to not being liked! The team all love her, she makes friends really easy! It isn't an environment that she is comfortable in or used too, and she struggles with it!
Her arc would be about deciding if it's worth it! Where to compromise and where to hold to fast! Proving that she does deserve to be there to herself and to others! Realizing that she has had a lot of things handed to her, and that she is not as self made and independent as she previously claimed to be! Deciding how to proceed with that realization! Working on herself to understand the perspective of others!
You can give her a crisis of confidence and self doubt with that! You can make her actively trying to learn more and better herself! Give her the Elle Woods Arc She Deserved! She doesn't have to be The Boss, she just has to be an active character in her own story!
POINT C
Splitting Keeley from the main cast was dumb! It was just a bad choice! It's an ensemble show, ensemble shows never work when you split up the ensemble. That's part of why season three felt so weird to watch!
I love Keeley, I really do, but her story was not substantial enough to stand on its own! She needs to be connected to Nelson Road and Richmond one way or another, or she might of well have been written off because the KJPR story line doesn't serve the over all plot or Keeley's character development. She starts and ends the season in the exact same spot, and she contributes almost nothing to the main story line.
This point of mine is more of technical perspective on writing but if something doesn't serve a purpose in a story, especially a story that is actively trying to be concise like the third season of ted lasso allegedly was, you need to either change it so that it does serve a purpose or cut it. Characters aren't people, they are tools used within a narrative to tell a story. Keeley wasn't used effectively as a tool to the narrative in any capacity.
Also I just think it would've been a lot more interesting to explore Roy and Keeley's relationship breaking down in real time. Them breaking up off screen and then ignoring each other for most of the season was, once again, boring!
In Conclusion
I hate the KJPR story line because it was so easy to fix and it could've elevated the narrative in so many ways but nooooooo we had to have THAT shit show. You could even keep Barbara in my version. Like,, she can still be there and it would work better. They fumbled so bad, Keeley deserved better.
#Keeley Jones#I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this as you can probably tell#does this count as meta?#I think so#ted lasso meta
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[Standalone AU] Thunderstruck
Originating from my privately abandoned Change of Mind AU comes a oddly fearless and feisty Paisley I kept in my vault of ideas...
Her Story:
Once determined to carve a parking lot into the african savannah during a thunderstorm, instead of Team Tortuga, mother nature came in to punish her and her team. Therefore, Paisley was stuck by lightning. Once Team Tortuga got to Paisley's spot, they could reanimate her and treat her heavy burns. Somehow, she turned out to be alive as the lightning passed through her without striking the heart. The only casualties were burned patches of skin and her right eye turned blind.
Paisley was gone for a year to recover from the damage of the incident, getting special shoes to cool the burned skin tissue from Zach Varmitech and a new outfit from Donita Donata. During the recovery she ordered Rex to leave, since he kept trying to help her, which she felt offended by, telling him that she doesn't need to be "pandered to by a tall man just because she's small and fragile."
Paisley surely gained confidence after being a rare survivor of a lightning strike. Sometimes though, she felt that Rex should have been struck, especially thinking about how the lightning chose her, the tiny little person over the lanky assistant that stood next to her while it happened - possibly the true reason why she discarded him, sparing him of further secretive jealousy of hers towards him. This change of self made her disband Paisley's Paving Services since she feared to be the casualty in another natural force strike and seek Donita for guidance on how she should go on. While with her, she finally was enlightened.
Well, what was her future gonna hold? Unbelivabely, during a Donita fashion show that was supposed to be guarded by Zach and his Bots, she discovered her protective and guarding skills. Zach did a horrible job at keeping protestors of Dontias (un)ethic animal fashion at bay and Paisley managed to be the one to prevent a fashion disaster. All while using something that was similar to her fear: a tazer. Sure, you don't want to be reminded by the worst time in your life, but somehow she overcame the trauma by using high voltage to her advantage.
Donita offered Paisley to work alongside her until she would find footing on her own again. She agreed and now serves as Donitas' official bodyguard. The Wild Kratts haven't got to Paisley yet, but they will surely be shocked once they do.
((I hope you enjoyed this standalone AU character, I might elaborate on her more if you want to! It's at least something while the Pilot AU is cooking... which will take some more since I broke my dominant hand :') So I hope you can make some of this old AU Character I had in my vault))
#wild kratts#wild kratts au#paisley paver#thunder!paisley#backstory ramble#wild kratts villains#donita donata#zach varmitech
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Remaining new names in the official Investigations 2 Localisation - Cases 1-3
This is the 68th post in the Ace Attorney Investigations Collection Countdown: 13 days left until release!
Today's topic: the remaining new names in the official Investigations 2 localisation from cases 1-3!
Thanks to the release of the demo of the Investigations Collection and some very hard-working people we now know of all the remaining new names for the characters and cases in the official I2 localisation. Since there are so many names to discuss I'm going to divide this into two posts, one for the cases 1-3 and one for cases 4+5, because most of the names we already know of (that I discussed in previous countdown posts) are from the first two cases. First, the names of the characters:
Bastian Rook (for Ethan Rooke): His last name was already known and I've talked about how I don't like that it's just the name of the chess piece he's supposed to represent, I prefer the fan translation for that one, it's a little bit less on the nose (same with "Knight" and "Knightley"). His first name sounds similar to bastion, a fortified building, which fits what the rook is and Rooke's job as a bodyguard protecting his "king". His first name in the fan translation has a similar connotation meaning "safe and strong". Between those two I don't really have a preference, they're both good choices for his first name.
Samson Tangaroa (for Jeffrey Masters): A very drastic change! His official name has a more elaborate meaning with both parts referencing mythical figures: Samson to the judge in the bible who lost his superhuman strength and was subsequently imprisoned, fitting Masters' own imprisonment, and Tangaroa to a MÄori god of the sea, fitting the nautical theme of his chocolate desserts in the contest. In contrast, his fan translated name is a play on "master chef" (even going as far as giving him the nickname "Master Jeff") and not much more. Purely from the meaning his official name is obviously better but I prefer the sound of his fan translated one. It sounds more like a complete name instead of two that just got stuck together, though that might change once I read his official name in context a few times.
Judy Bound (for Katherine Hall): In this case the name puns are about equal, the official localisation goes for "duty bound" referencing her loyalty to Masters whereas the fan translation goes for "catering hall" (even more so with her nickname "Kate") keeping the mansion reference from her Japanese name and the chef theme with Masters. However, I vastly prefer her fan translated name because it's so much more elegant! Her present design doesn't fit "Judy" at all but it perfectly fits "Katherine", her past self might fit but it also fits "Kate" perfectly, and I love the contrast between the two and how much of her personality gets conveyed through it. I hope her official full name is "Judith" or something similar to get a little bit of the same sentiment across.
Carmelo Gusto (for Dane Gustavia): For Gustavia's name the change isn't as drastic but still significant. His official first name is a shortened version of "caramello" which is Italian and translates to caramel referencing his candy making. "Gusto" comes from Latin "gustus" which translates to taste, very fitting considering his business and his taste issues, and doing something "with gusto" means doing it with a lot of passion which is exactly what Gustavia has for his goal of becoming the greatest pastry chef alive. His fan translated name has his last name going for the same association with taste, "Gustavia" sounds similar to "gustatory" which comes from the same Latin source. "Dane" is a reference to "danish (pastry)", the English name for a type of pastry from Denmark keeping to his pastry chef theme. I also like the interpretation of his name referencing Gustavus Swift who apparently invented the first refrigerated railroad car which is wonderfully hilarious considering what Gustavia does in the case. I don't really mind his official name, it's a good choice, but I slightly prefer the fancier sound of "Gustavia" from the fan translation.
Delicia Scone (for Delicia Scones): Not much to talk about with this one, the names are almost the same and just use her Japanese name without changing much (referencing "delicious scone" like the British quick bread). I don't think the change from "Scones" to "Scone" makes any difference and I like that both the official localisation and the fan translation chose "Delicia" as her first name, it fits her well.
[Spoilers for Investigations 2 in the next two name entries]
Artie Frost (for Isaac Dover): The meaning of his official name is pretty obvious, "Artie" referencing his job and talent as an artist and "Frost" referencing his work with ice and his corpse being frozen. His fan translated name focuses more on the "ice" part with "Isaac Dover" being a play on "iced over" which is, again, the type of dessert he uses in the contest (sherbet) and how his corpse was hidden. I hate to repeat myself but yet again I slightly prefer his fan translated name because it sounds more serious and mature and not like a nickname. (Artie? Couldn't they at least have gone for "Artus" or something and have Delicia use "Arty" as a nickname?)
Paul Halique (for Pierre Hoquet): With this name they couldn't change around too much because the initials still had to be "PH" for the signet ring to make sense. The official localisation just used an alternate spelling of his Japanese name (Paul Holic) while the name in the fan translation doesn't have any meaning associated with it that makes sense in the game's context apart from just sounding nice. In that sense the official localisation easily wins with this one.
And now for the case names (my discussion for the new name of the first case is here):
The Captive Turnabout (for The Imprisoned Turnabout): Nothing to complain about here, "captive" and "imprisoned" mean almost the same thing. They both sound great as well, I don't prefer one over the other.
Turnabout Legacy (for The Inherited Turnabout): Wow, that official name is amazing! I love the fan translated name, don't get me wrong, and it fits but the official one has such a weight to it - Legacy - you really feel how significant this case is, to Miles in particular but also to the series as a whole. Its impact cannot be overstated and the official name absolutely does it justice. Perfect choice for one of the best cases in the entire series!
#ace attorney#ace attorney investigations#ace attorney investigations collection#aai collection#ace attorney investigations collection countdown#13 days left
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okay I watched restoration and I'll probably analyze it more in depth later when my brain has processed what I've watched but here are some of the thoughts I had while watching (I stopped live blogging part way through so some things may be out of order lols):
okay first thoughts: weâre at a convention, and dylan is some sort of director for some super unpopular thing. ngl thatâs a pretty harsh downgrade from journalist/news correspondent.Â
hi kai. she seemed to be more like her s15-s17 characterization than her bg/chorus cameo characterization for the 30 seconds she was present (which I remember really disliking)
wash is in the hospital as prisoner 619bâŚbros did the UNSC arrest him again?!?
âIâm not even sure I got his voice right this time.â okay so restoration IS another simulation
the director being a therapist when the counselor is right there lmao
bros no way they got elijah wood to voice sigma again??
is that the counselor I hear on the PA system??? thatâs what the subtitles said anyway. but anyway BROS HE ACTUALLY FUCKING LIVED LETS GO (but why is his ass not in jail??????? thereâs no way he managed to get a job, let alone one in a UNSC hospital, but if this IS a simulation which I think it is and epsilon himself admitted to making mistakes already then Iâm okay with that development ig)
NO IS DOC A FIGMENT OF WASHâS IMAGINATION NOOOOOO MY MANS IS FINALLY LOSING IT FR
âListen to me! Youâve gotta listen to me!â
479er??? Iâve always had the hc she was arrested w wash and the other pfl personnel at the end of s6
âOur mission menâand blueâ caboose is trans confirmed
âDonât feel bad afterwards. I forgive you. I know itâs not your fault, Iâm sorry this is happening to you.â omg caboose not dunking on tucker is what he presumed to be his final moments.
SARGE GOING TO SAVE CABOOSE <3
oh okay I predicted months ago before the 2nd trailer came out that at least one of the bgc was going to die and I was right! I thought it was going to be caboose but rip sarge (and doc)Â
Iâm really disappointed that wash didnât get to do more tbh. the meta was HIS enemy but he was regulated to comedic relief :(
also wash jumping off a cliff to activate the recovery beacon is :/. bro was literally a recovery agent he should know how to activate it to summon lina like sheâs a deployable unit in uhh. ways that were NOT that.
did not expect tex to come back but okay, also tex/lina fighting together feels like fanservice but mmmmmmmmmmnh.Â
awww tex and church get to be together again, dying together as one like they did at the end of s6. TEX SOFTLY HOLDING CHURCHâS HAND YES!!! WE LOVE SOFT TENDER TEX IN THIS HOUSE!!!
damn the âwash and lina having their trauma and traits swapped for no reasonâ thing is. hmmm donât like that, have never liked that. I tried to see if I had any posts on my old blog about this topic bc I remember talking about it in the past and I sort of do? eh whatever tldr; lina is the one haunted by the past and wash is supposed to be the one giving the emotional speeches but hhhhhrng. will definitely be talking about that more later even though I thought the scene was super sweet (also ct!!!!!!! my girl!!!!)
I donât like that they were all separated and that grif was going to leave, these mfs were forced together in a shitty box canyon at the start of the series and I feel like it wouldâve been better if instead of being forced together they all chose to stay together but it is what it is.
âBow chicka bye now.â bros itâs overâŚ
okay ngl it was pretty rushed pacing wise and Iâve got so many bones to pick (mostly about wash bc ofc) but speaking as an ending to the series I think it works. it all started in a box canyon which was later revealed to be an elaborate training simulation, so itâs fitting that it it was revealed very early in the run time that it was all a simulation, and it all ended in the box canyon they started in. I thought the themes of feeling guilty and being able to forgive oneself were very interesting (might get into that more later as wellâŚ) so yeah.Â
itâs flawed, but for such a long running series that had originally been intended to only be a few episodes, I think it ending with tucker telling us itâs over and to go home is honestly the best way they couldâve done it. all the other times the series had âendedâ it was done in a way where it worked as a standalone end for the series, but it was always open-ended enough that a continuation could be made if they wanted to.Â
there isnât going to be a continuation this time, the story is over, but just because the story has ended doesnât mean that we canât make our own stories. red vs blue will live on so long as there are people who want it to, which feels pretty on the dime doesnât it?
#mine#rvb spoilers#rvb19 spoilers#rvb restoration spoilers#eli watches rvb19#not t/oaru#rvb19#rvb#red vs blue#rvb restoration#red vs blue restoration
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