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sophiamcdougall · 9 months

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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deunmiu-dessie · 6 months

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ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.

꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.

Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.

The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.

Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.

The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."

You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.

Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.

Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"

The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."

The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."

Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"

"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."

The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."

As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"

"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace. The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.

The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller.

Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.

After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.

—

Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.

"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.

Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.

Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.

Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.

Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.

Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.

"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."

You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."

The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."

You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard, he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.

He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty."

You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.

The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."

You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared, causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.

After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."

You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating, and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.

Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm. Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.

As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience.

You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.

With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly.

"Might I inquire about your name?" Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."

Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes.

A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.

His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.

You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "

You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.

The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.

Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.

After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.

Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips.

Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.

With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )

His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.

With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies. Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.

He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.

Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "

Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.

With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.

A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )

Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!”

With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby ) "Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?"

Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face. Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix.

Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.

" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans.

He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs.

"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"

With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls. A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."

With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”

The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.

You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"

Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.

You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.

He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)

Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.

He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick.

Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.

He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.

The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.

Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole

" Dismissed. "

The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.

"Loran, please."

The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue.

Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.

Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...

connected with this post!

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chuluoyi · 2 months

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࿐ ࿔ hot, hot summer !

in which you got the offer of a lifetime—takes place in 2006-2009 era! @mrrpmiao miao, you’re so responsible for the brain worm you’ve instilled in my mind🙂‍↕️

a part of gojo's love entries

summer is as hot as you are pretty.

it’s an undisputed fact to satoru. after all, he chose you. so of course you were the best. he supposed even strangers here would eventually come to realize it too… as it wasn’t the first time their kind had done so.

kamakura beach was packed in summer, and he stepped away a bit to get you shaved ice only to come back to this appalling sight.

“miss! ooh! you’re so gorgeous!”

this suspicious-looking middle-aged man—with goatee, long tied hair, wearing palm shirt and beach shorts—approached you so merrily as you were chilling under the parasol.

“ah thank you…?” you pasted a taut smile, totally clueless and spooked, hoping he would go on his way.

“i mean it! your body is so—wow!” the man gasped dramatically, appraising you from head to toe. “your bust—it’s perfect! you’d make a good cover girl, you know!”

you were wearing the bikini of the same brand inoue waka endorsed at satoru’s insistence, and true, it was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

his sore eyes, specifically. not others.

satoru scowled, and he marched towards where you were. he would do his job as always—chasing away no-good men from you.

“hey you,” he barked. “what business do you have with my girl here?”

the bearded man regarded him with surprise, before he assessed him from top to bottom. “oh! you’re mr. boyfriend? whoa, you don’t look bad yourself!”

“if you’re trying to bother my—”

“no, no! you’ve got the wrong idea!” the man defended, raising both hands in surrender. “you see, i’m about to offer the pretty lady a gig as a gravure model!”

wha? you gaped. satoru blinked.

“m-me?” you stammered, flabbergasted, pointing at yourself. “uh, are you sure?”

“yes! 100% sure!” the agent man replied with stars in his eyes. “miss, with your assets, you’ll outshine even inoue waka or kaoru sakurako themselves!”

“really?!” you almost laughed. it was a strange compliment, but a compliment nonetheless.

but next to you, satoru’s face darkened, his eyes obscured. his fists clenched around the paper bowl of shaved ice so hard it shook. the next thing you know—

“here, hold this.” he suddenly shoved the shaved ice to you, before he plucked his sandal off and—

“YOU!” satoru raised the flip-flop above his head, his eyes blazing with fury, ready to swing it at the man. “GET LOST YOU SLIMY BOZO!”

“—?! WAIT, YOUNG MAN!”

and then came the most disastrous scene before you: your boyfriend chased the agent with his sandal, throwing it at him that it bonked his head, then grabbed someone’s big-ass water gun without permission and continued the pursuit, determined to catch him.

. . .

“how could you?! why do you seem even remotely interested!?” satoru fierily questioned you after he was done cooking the gravure video agent, panting and sopping wet. in the end, the two of them got into a water gun fight that ended with him winning.

you turned to him, feigning an unimpressed expression. “he said i can outshine inoue waka. who wouldn’t want that chance?”

“you can’t!” he retorted almost immediately, aghast. “i mean, yeah you can! but no! no way! you can’t flaunt your body for everyone to see!”

“why?”

“you are mine!” he pouted hard, irked. “i don’t want to share you! you are for the consumption of my eyes only!”

his blatant response made you giddy, truthfully. and as if to stress his point, he suddenly pulled you to his chest from behind, wrapping both arms around you, making you squeal.

“satoru, you’re wet!”

“so? when i marry you someday, we’re going to share a lot of things together. wet is one of them.”

“does this mean you’d pick me over inoue waka?” you threw him a suggestive smile, looking up at him expectantly.

his face then turned pink, as he smooched you in the head. “you know the answer to that, dummy.”

who would have thought that he would really keep his promise and that you'd come to the same beach years later...?

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teaboot · 3 months

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OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

#I wanna be a PI someday but here I be for now #There are a few PIs that check in on child welfare and I like the idea of that #Like scoping out foster homes #Supervising parental visits #I might like that #Teablart

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xiaq · 2 months

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I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

#someone write this please #steddie #steve/eddie #eddie/steve #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things

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gojoest · 4 months

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the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader

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