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sanstropfremir · 2 years

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wait tell me more about your undergrad thesis play you did

ok i can't actually say too many details because it will doxx me (the play was deeply specific to the city i went to undergrad in) but i have to lay some groundwork first:

i did not actually choose to do this play. if given actual agency i would not have done this play, it was a bad play

hilariously, not every design program grad actually got to do a final/thesis show. our program only did three shows a year, which meant that a maximum of 3 students per discipline (set/costume/lighting) got to do a show. and usually it was less that that bc there were graduate students and occasionally a professor stepped in if the student crop was weak (it usually was). this is how you obtained a final show (for set design):

duking it the fuck out in a no holds barred semester long competition IN the set design class where the prof pits you against each other in every critique to see who can design the best show according to the director's specifications.

no i am not joking

i was not particularly enthused by any of the show selections in my graduating year (the season is picked in advance by a committee of staff+directors) but i sure as hell am ambitious so i decided i was gonna do preliminary designs for every show. and also interview to try and get a costume design slot, but the department literally stepped in and told me i couldn't design two shows in a year.

anyways. i go above and beyond building prelim models for these three shows, but again i get sidestepped by the department and told that i can't design more than one show, so i have to pick which one i want to do, so i went with the show that would become my final show bc the director was very adamant about working with me.

the play is a REWRITE of the government inspector by nikolai gogol, and that rewrite is being done by the director herself. the rewrite is set in the literal city that my university is in, part of it revolves around a very famous historical landmark

all of this happens a year in advance to the actual show (second semester of my third year, the show's run dates are late second semester of my fourth year), so i have the entire summer and all of the first semester to tidy up the prelim design and get it approved etc etc. here are a select few of some of the insane stories than happened over the time it took to make this show:

the director does NOT finish the script until about a week before rehearsals start

the director invites me to a 'design meeting' that actually turns out to be a private meal at a very expensive sushi restaurant and possibly the most expensive meal of my entire life. the director treats me to some extremely expensive fish and two bottles of sake, which i drink all of. i should point out that i am 21 at the time and the director is anywhere between the age of 65 and 85, no one actually knows. also the director IS LITERALLY MY PROFESSOR

the director will not decide on what she wants on the floor (has to function as both indoor and outdoor space, the floor is also a nearly 30ft diameter turntable (not my choice) so any patterns HAVE to match a circle) and when we finally settle on a mandala pattern she makes me draw FORTY DIFFERENT MANDALAS over a three week period before she decides on one.

i make the props department order over a thousand dollars of fake plants. it takes up a third of my budget, but they are most of the set pieces 🤷‍♀️

the head of shop somehow gets the actual city council to lend us real actual city lampposts. like real real ones made of aluminium and glass and shit. they get wired up with portable dimmer packs and put on small platforms so they both actually for real light up AND roll around the stage

there's a fuckup with the scenic painting class + the rehearsal schedule (the rehearsals are running behind and there are not enough scenic painters) so the mandala painting has to happen in only two days AFTER 10pm. i end up painting most of the mandala myself in those two overnight shifts that go until 4am

oh and there's also a fuckup with the new set design prof that's coming in so i'm literally left without a supervisor for an entire semester while the show is in pre production.

#there are so many other stories the whole year was a fucking nightmare sldkfjsdlf #the costume designers (there were two in an effort to try and make it 'fair') literally shat the bed with the costumes #so much so that they had to redesign outfits after technical rehearsal. aka WAY TOO LATE in the game #the turntable ended up getting cut from the fucking show bc an actor sprained their wrist being stupid #so all of that perfect symmetry point mandala work was for NOTHING (except a gorgeous floor im actually still very proud of that floor)#in addition to all those fake plants i had the poor first year grunts make over 100 custom giant ivy leaves #and when i say giant i mean 1.5ft across #in the final show literally half of the scene changes were just moving huge potted ferns around sldkfsdljf #oh and one of the costume designers tried to throw me under the bus at a production meeting by saying i didnt give them the colour palette #when i literally hand made booklets of paint chips and fabric swatches for BOTH of them #it was a right fucking mess #i was also designing another (smaller thank god) show at the time that literally opened on the same day #so if you ever wanted to know what theatre school is like: it's like that!#plus like at least ten more ethics violations. that school was a fucking mess #text #answers #non kpop questions

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osachiyo · 7 months

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my sunshine ・ gojo satoru ─── f!reader . daddy gojo (literally) approx 0.6k ᘎᘏ cw none !

everyone knew satoru had the biggest sweet tooth, and apparently his daughter took after him in that aspect.

"wan' that, daddy!" the cute 3 year old girl pouted, peering up at her father from below, stubby little finger pointing at the cookie-jar oh so neatly placed on top of the counter.

"you want the cookies, princess?" satoru asked, making her nod with a small 'mhm!' so damn cutely that almost made him fold. almost.

"but, buuut mommy said no cookies 'till dinner, remember?" satoru pouted, kneeling to be at the same height as his tiny girl, who only slouched her shoulders in disappointment− before looking up at the snow haired man again− shoving her hand into his face with only her pointer finger up, "jus' one, I pwooomise!"

he only chuckled in response, large hand reaching to ruffle her fluffy hair− which was parted into two cute pigtails, various clips and bows decorating it. "alright, fine. juuuuust one, okay sweet girl?" his voice was anything but strict− plump lips curled into the biggest grin. she only beamed up at him, giggling and squealing as he hoists her up and sits her on top of the marble counter, her legs swinging back and forth in sheer excitement.

satoru reached for the jar, carefully opening the lid before taking out two cookies; one of his precious sweet tooth of a daughter, and one for himself. he handed one of them to her, before making a 'zip' motion on his lips− indicating for her to keep quiet about this. she gladly took the cookie with her grabby little hands rosey lips parting to let out a little 'thwank you!' before nodding, agreeing to keep this a secret between her and daddy.

" 's so yummy, daddy!" she squealed, letting out the cutest fucking giggle known to mankind− in his words. he grinned, taking a moment to truly admire her− admire the sweet little bundle of joy that you, his woman, the love of his life had gifted him and he couldn't thank you enough.

he watched as his sweet girl happily munched on the sweet treat, her chubby little cheeks now stuffed with the chocolate chip cookie. god, he'd give her the goddamn world. he smiled softly to himself before taking a bite of his cookie, eyes sparkling at the taste. "you're right, baby. it's very yummy," he said with a mouthful of cookie, glancing at her with this cerulean blues, "mommy's the best baker out there, eh?" she nodded in agreement, before also speaking with a mouthful of cookie, "uh-huh! she's also the best mommy everrrrrrr! but she'd be better if she let me eat more cookies, y'know?"

satoru cackled at that− she really did take after him.

bonus :

"I'm home!" you yelled out softly, taking your shoes off and neatly placing them to the shoe-rack. you walked over to the kitchen in order to put the groceries in their designated spot when you noticed the cookie-jar.... missing.

you sighed, placing the groceries down on the counter before looking for your precious daughter and husband− and the missing cookie jar. and you found the both of them right as you walked into the spacious living-room, a children's playing on the tv, your eyes softening at the sight of gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer to exist, with his baby girl in his arms, snuggled up so comfortably into his chest as the fuzzy blanket covering them slowly started to slide off.

a smile tugged at your lips, walking over to them when something hit your foot− looking down, you saw the completely empty cookie jar laying on the floor, abandoned after they were done devouring each and every one of the cookies, most likely. you rolled your eyes with a huffed out laugh, walking closer to them before noticing the small cookie crumbs on their adorable faces. you shook your head with a defeated smile, like father like daughter, huh?

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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mmani-e · 2 months

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Hello! After all this effort, behold:

DANGANRONPA DEMIX, THH EDITION!

Dr Demix 2

Finally got the talentswap designs I have for the THH characters one and done with! You can click through the read more section for some fun design insights. I'm intending on uploading a doc containing short lore bits about them eventually.

Kyoko Kirigiri - Ultimate Affluent Progeny

So Kyoko's design was both kinda simple, kinda not, wanted to give her a very fine and regal kinda attitude to her but not arrogant as that's very much Byakuya's thing. Her story is that she loves her dad more than the family business and her grandpa so she abandons detective work and just uses her brain to help her dad out.

Makoto Naegi - Ultimate Novelist

Makoto is a wonderful guy, just great all around. He loves writing children's books and happy stories. This is his main coping mechanism so he doesn't have to process any negative emotions he gets, the rest he can't process… well they go into a murderous psychopath alter.

Aoi Asahina - Ultimate Lucky Student

Shoujo protagonist Aoi. Cute, headstrong, affective, competitive, these are all the traits that make her fight for her friends and clash with Kyoko (and more often than not Byakuya) in the killing game, even when all hope seems lost… she pushes through, unafraid to let tears spill from her eyes for all those lost, but pushing all the same.

Byakuya Togami - Ultimate Detective

This one, I wanna go into more lore territory, cause I kinda memed around his last desc I gave him so here goes:

"A disgraced heir of the Togami household, Byakuya lost the competition that would've secured his riches. Disdainful and bitter, he sought out to get to the bottom of why he lost, uncovering a rabbit hole in the process. By the end, he proved his sibling a cheater, but it didn't matter because by the end as he found the sweet satisfaction of uncovering secrets and crushing liars and cheaters under the weight of their hubris far more satisfying than any inheritance."

Sayaka Maizono - Ultimate Spirit Medium

So Sayaka isn't a clairvoyant at all like Yasuhiro, in fact her entire skillset is completely different, first of all she is like an actual psychic, and I based her design off of the japanese Itako, quite loosely. Very interesting group, look it up, also she'll never use these powers in the killing game because I dunno how to even approach these rituals or what they look like or how to write them while remaining respectful, so she won't do it in a killing game for the express reason of her not having the right tools available and not wanting to disrespect her traditions.

Leon Kuwata - Ultimate Swimmer

I really wanna draw him again, all these characters again tbh, and I wanna show off the patterns on his wetsuit. It's a whole coral reef under there, that anemone and clownfish bit is only one part of a whole reef stretching his midline.

Sakura Ogami - Ultimate Programmer

Sakura has installed chips into her body to help optimize her body processes and also cause why not. As for the muscles, she's an Assembly programmer, the programs she's made can run on calculators she loves it.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Ultimate Martial Artist

Chihiro's design here with the two belts is an explicit nod to his preferred martial art - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, so unlike Sakura in canon who'd be easy to imagine cracking someone's skull in half with a chop, Chihiro's approach is more crawling onto someone and bringing them down to the floor with grappling like an angry halfling monk. As for the belts themselves, on his head is his final junior belt, while around his waist is his current belt, he's not a black belt yet because he's still too young for it.

Celestia Ludenberg - Ultimate Baseball Star

Celestia actually isn't a legend in this AU, Taeko is. Celestia hates that and wants to start a baseball career going international, whatever the hell that means is up to her own definition, but she wants to be remembered forever as Celestia, not Taeko. Also extra sentence, but this is the SINGLE hardest design I've ever had to deal with here, I think in the future I'll be drawing all her little accessories and I have an alt costume for her I have in mind.

Hifumi Yamada - Ultimate Pop Star

So I changed Hifumi's story as I originally outlined in the OG post with him. He was friends with Aoi all his life, pretty much his only friend at all, and ever since he was little he had an obsession with writing songs, because he was obsessed with stuff like anime openings and was content to just keep the songs to himself. It wasn't till Aoi convinced him to share some of his songs that he started his journey to success, but bc he's not traditionally attractive, his first hits were literally just… his voice being played over other more attractive singers and it wasn't until very very recently that he even performed a song of his for the first time.

Toko Fukawa - Ultimate Fanfic Writer

So while Hifumi was clearly a Doujinshi but due to weird translation, ended up as fanfic creator, Touko is straight up a FF then Wattpad then AO3 girl, who would get obsessed with this really shitty, tripe manga that she didn't even like reading. It did however have super hot dudes in it, so she wrote good stories of those characters when she got frustrated with the actual authorial content - which was always.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - Ultimate Gambler

Quite LITERALLY the never stop gambling meme personified into a guy. He can lose 3 mil on slot machines but always comes out fine because it means if he keeps gambling he'll eventually run into his 1/3 and win giga millions, what he needs to pay off his debts. It isn't just with luck though either because his personality and lack of intelligence or understanding of most the rules of the games he plays means he'll never react the way he should when getting a good hand in poker or a bad draw in blackjack, so he wins those games almost always through just… stupidity.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Ultimate Biker

She's number 16 in her gang, and is easily the most loyal enforcer and taskman of the gang. She does anything she's told, to a grim and disciplined degree not typical for hooligan bike gangers, she doesn't really desire a seat as top dog of the gang though, after all she's got school to worry about, and her sister.

Mondo Owada - Ultimate Warlord

So his relationship and Kiyotaka's is gonna be interesting, because I don't want him to be exactly like Mukuro at all, who was just sort of an all-obsessed Yandere. It's more like he's always chafing under Taka, who is less than friendly with him in this AU, really the main way he even lets Taka boss him around is because he pays incredibly well and helps keep his gang members from devolving back into the unstructured, chaotic criminal life, the same that took his brother years ago.

Oh and yeah, he still looks like Guile, as he should.

Sparkling Justice - Ultimate Killer Killer

Yeah it's a reference to Killer Killer, sue me I love the manga. He has Hajirahara's ahoge, and I thought it'd be cute to also give him a mask just like the other Makoto from a Kodaka game series (Raincode.) Also, while Genocide jack stuffs all her scissors in her skirt, Makoto keeps a truth gun with "truth bullets" as his main weapon, the gun he stores inside the big book in the chibi of just Makoto, and the bullets kept on his person as the red buttons all over his body, which he pulls out when he needs to reload.

"Kiyotaka Ishimaru" - Ultimate Fashionista

Unlike Mukuro and Junko, Mondo absolutely cannot hide the fact that he acts nothing like Kiyotaka, though this is surprisingly fine to everyone else, because unlike Junko who plastered herself onto literally everything, Mondo always obfuscated himself from the public spotlight, at most showing only his suits while he hid his face behind something conveniently placed. Which played primarily to his vision of an ultimate fashionista, who was above everyone and catered to the rich and powerful.

Junko Enoshima - Ultimate Moral Compass

This was a fun one, I decided to let her have her red hair because I believe it to be the "natural" look of her hair, while attaching little clips of dyed hair to her buns as a replacement to keep her shape sorta and keep the strawberry blonde somwehere on her. Understand that while she is the "moral compass" she is still pretty deranged, and the only reason she focuses so much on keeping everyone on their best behavior is because it's endlessly entertaining to her to make her fellow moral committee members upset when she blatantly makes a mockery of the rules while still keeping kids on their best behavior to make a point.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Ultimate Fashionista and Tyrant, the Iron Hand of Despair

Taka's design I wanted to sort of focus on this sort of, holier-than-thou idea, where I wanted to make him look a lot fancier and upper-class than Junko does in his standard highschool fit compared to him. I wanted him to have an upper-crust sort of look

If you're reading this after reading this all, thanks! You're a wonderful person :) Signing off...

Mani

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deathbyathousandspiders · 1 year

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peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

1.4k.

Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.

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ivysangel · 4 months

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Honey clings to your fingers, viscous and sticky, stringing every time it touches itself. Lines of liquid gold run down the curves of your hand, streams of goopy liquid pooling in your palm and flowing down your wrist in a few collective lines. You plunge your thumb back into the honey pot, the thick substance clinging to your skin instantly, and you bring your hand back up again, the honey only stagnant for a second before it starts its descent down your arm.

A large hand, strong and veiny, grabs your wrist. An unrelenting grip bringing your hand forth to him. He presses your thumb to his lips, smearing the sweet substance to and fro, to the corners of his mouth and back, leaving translucent liquid behind when he catches your thumb between his teeth, grazing the appendage and scraping it clean. A guttural groan sounds in the back of his throat, and you know that means he likes it.

"'s good, huh?" you watch the way his eyes flutter as he lets the rest dissolve in his mouth, ecstasy written all over his features. An emotion he only exhibits when he's eating good food or fucking you. "Yeah, really good." His voice is hoarse as if the honey absorbed all moisture from his larynx and left him in need of a glass of water, ironic given its effectiveness in soothing sore throats. "Thirsty?" you hand him a cup filled with cucumber water, a palate cleanser. "Real sweet," he says before tipping his head back and downing the drink. "But I liked it. What's next?"

Your eyes peruse the board of half-eaten sweets and treats in front of you, searching for one that was untouched. The beech wood board, previously a nice light beige, is stained a multitude of colors. Splotches of deep reds and purple form puddles where you had put the berries, frosting is streaked across the entirety of the board from the multiple unfinished slices of cake, chocolate chips and sprinkles from cookies lay scattered on both the countertop and floor, spoons and forks that were only partially licked clean can still be found near their designated desserts. Cubes of angel food cake half-dipped in chocolate and tooth-rottingly sweet marshmallow squares sit on napkins, drying out more and more by the second while long-forgotten brownies soak up various fruity jellies and jams, having been discarded with no regard for keeping flavor profiles separate.

It was a nightmare to look at, an even bigger one to clean up, and if anyone else had been the cause of this mess, you wouldn't have even begun to entertain the idea of letting it get this bad, let alone cleaning it up. But it wasn't anyone else, wasn't just some random stranger; it was Jason, and to you, spending weeks curating the perfect Valentine's gift to satiate his sweet tooth was a testament to your love for him. Who cares if you have to break out the good cleaning supplies.

"Hmm," you do one last once over, nothing catching your eye that hadn't already been touched, "I don't think so." unintentionally, you start to clean up, collecting dirty forks and spoons for the dishwasher, stacking empty bowls on top of each other to toss in the sink. "What a shame," he mumbles, appearing beside you seemingly out of thin air and taking the utensils from your hands before setting them down haphazardly right where they started. You look at him with confusion, silently inquiring about his undoing of your work, and you open your mouth to verbally ask but are stopped by the wolfish grin adorning his face and the way he begins to lift the hem of your shirt up. "d'ya think we got anythin' else," he asks, moving in closer, eyes locked on you like a predator with prey. "I'm still hungry."

#happy valentines day from me to u #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x gn!reader #red hood smut #red hood imagine #jason todd lover

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eideticmemory · 8 months

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A LONG DAY | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

At the end of a long day, your husband really is the best person to come home to.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning/Includes: Husband!Matthew !!! Dad!Matthew !!! Delusional fluff!! Even more delusional smut!!

The worst part of getting home so late isn’t the body aches, it isn’t the exhaustion, it’s not even the dozens of bright headlights that blind you on the way home. It’s the darkness. Everything is so dark. You pull into the driveway and the porch light is out, the garage is pitch black. Shutting your car off, you take a moment to lean your head back and sigh, gaining the strength to grab all of your crap, open the door and stumble through the garage. You trip over your daughter’s bike, but you catch yourself and you think you’re going to burst into tears. Instead, you step into the basement where it is almost as dark, save for the soft light of TV where your husband sits on the couch, doing absolutely nothing but wait for you.

Matthew turns around and his face just instantly lights up, “Hey, mama,” he rises to his feet. He takes your bag, your lunchbox and sets them down so he can give you a big, tight, hug. Arms wrapped securely around your waist, face buried in your neck, he whispers, “I missed you.”

And your entire body melts into his, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as you sigh out, “I missed you.” Then he hugs you tighter, lifts you off your feet.

When he puts you down, you still don’t let go, and he chuckles under his breath, but he holds you until you’re ready to let go.

“How are the babies?” you ask him.

“Oh, they’re good,” he nods, and he takes your hand, guides you over to the monitors perched on the coffee table. “They’re asleep. Went down pretty easy.”

“Did they ask about me?” You ask, leaning down to caressing Leo’s face on the screen.

“C’mon, you know they did,” Matthew smiles. “I told them that you were at work but you love them and you’d see them first thing in the morning.”

Your fingertips trace Amelia’s face, and then slowly over Rhiannon’s and it makes you so very sad. Heavy weight on your shoulders, deep in your chest, sad. When you get home late and it’s pitch dark, bedtime has come and gone. The day has come and gone. And the guilt absolutely eats you alive.

Matthew rubs your back, running the heel of his hand up your spine, “Have you eaten?”

You sigh, “Not since lunch,” shaking your head, standing up straight.

“Oh god, babe, let me make you something.”

You release a sharp breath from your nose and instantly rest your forehead on his shoulder.

You are so tired.

“Hm?” he hums, holding you tight.

You give nothing more than a nod, but that’ll do.

“Yeah?” he whispers. “Okay, let’s go upstairs.”

He follows behind you with your stuff up and you close the door behind him, officially lock the house up for the night. Walking towards the stairs, you take a look around and comment, “It’s clean as hell in here.”

He laughs, “Well, thank you for noticing. Shout out to your kids for taking some good naps today so I could actually get some of their shit picked up.”

You give him a dry laugh. It would’ve been louder but you just simply lack the energy.

“Oh, baby, you’re tired,” he kisses your cheek. “Go ahead,” he nods towards the stairs. “I’ve got your food. Go lay down, mama.”

And you really don’t need to be told twice. So you give him a gentle kiss, a quiet, “Thank you,” and you drag yourself up the stairs. You hop in the shower with the pure intention of making it quick, but you take a seat on the floor, letting the water run over your body for much longer than you mean to. Still a bit damp, you throw on Matthew’s shirt and crawl into your bed on all fours, collapsing on the mattress when you reach your designated side. Snuggling into your pillow, you moan under your breath, the relief and comfort washing over you all at once.

Matthew steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. And with him is a small plate topped with a sub sandwich and a side of chips. “Is this okay, baby?”

You roll over to take a look, at the sandwich done up with your favorite meats and cheese, the chips you go to when you need a snack. And it is so obvious that someone who knows you and loves you put it together. “Yes, my love,” you smile. “Yes, it’s perfect. Thank you.” You take the plate from him and set it on your nightstand.

“You sure?” he asks as he crawls in beside you, plops down on the bed. “I packed you the same thing for lunch tomorrow, but if you’d prefer something else, I can do that for you.”

You look up at him, run your finger over his collarbone, hook it onto the collar of his shirt. You go to speak, but you lose your train of thought as you touch his hair and his chin, “…take your pants off.”

And you swear, he nearlys goes - what? - but he catches himself. He shuts himself up very quickly and nods, no questions asked. He slides his pants over his hips and down his legs, his briefs flying off the edge right along with them.

You push your panties down, kick them off like it’s what they were meant for all along. As you climb on top of Matthew, his breath catches in his chest and he moans at the soft touch of your lips on his. His arms take you in out of instinct, his hands work their way up your waist and grope your boobs. You hum, holding his face in your hands as you grind your hips on him, feel his cock come alive between your legs.

The warmth of it all has him struggling to keep sane, with him constantly groaning against your lips, digging his nails into your thighs.

“Wait, wait,” he huffs, pushing your hair out of your face. “Don’t…don’t you wanna eat first?”

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, arch your back and tangle your hands in his hair, “After.”

He nods and opens his mouth just a bit so your tongue can slide between his lips. Your mouths gets slimy and slippery but the two of you cannot stop. You only part so you can spit into your own palm, which you proceed to rub over your pussy. Matthew watches you in astonishment, his eyes glistening as you purr and touch yourself so close to his cock. When you notice, you give him a slutty smile, bite down on your lip and it almost kills him.

He pulls you in for another kiss. This one, longer. Dirtier, all consuming. You grab onto his rock hard cock, covering him in your saliva, feeling him twitch in your palm. His breath shudders and he buckles underneath you, looking up at you with hooded and heavy eyes. You press your nose into his, aligning his cock so that you sink onto it just right.

The small whine you let out is eclipsed by his deep, “Oh!” and he quiets down, muttering, “Fuck…”

You brace yourself on his shoulders, your foreheads pressed together as you move yourself up and down. Slow at first, but then Matthew rests his head on the headboard, his jaw dropped and his forehead beading with sweat and he mumbles, “Oh my god…”

“Yeah?” you moan, caressing his face, and your hips pick up in speed. In intensity, landing on him with a loud, wet thump each time.

“Oh, fuck yes, baby,” he whimpers. “Come here,” he pulls you in by the back of your neck, kissing you with his other hand planted firmly on your ass.

You run your hands down his biceps, squeezing them as you whine from the back of your throat. Your body loses energy but can’t stop bouncing on him, grinding your clit into his tummy. Your breath is shaky, but strong enough to grow in volume, your jaw dropping against Matthew’s mouth as you release your incessant moans. He puts his open mouth on your neck, his tongue on your skin and you gasp, dropping your hips on him, “Fuck!”

“Mm…” he hums, taking a quick bite of your neck, “Oh god, I love you. I fucking love you.”

And instead of saying it back, you just wrap your arms around his shoulders, squeeze him in a hug. He knows.

You grind your teeth together but it’s not enough to keep you quiet. You cry out directly in his ear and claw at the headboard, the motion in your hips becoming careless and sloppy. But, oh, so perfect. Your eyes roll back as you sit up straight, his eyes trained on you and only you.

“You gonna come?” he whispers.

You nod, “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m…f-fuck…” your eyes cross over one another and you focus all your energy on stimulating your clit, letting yourself get there.

“Fuck!” you shout. “Fu…Matthew…” you moan.

“What is it, baby?” he holds your waist. “Hm?”

You respond with a loud and sudden gasp, followed by a breathy groan that echoes off the walls. Matthew can practically feel the vibration and he can feel your thighs tight around his waist and your pussy tightening around his cock. You stutter and you mumble until it’s nothing more than his name coming out on constant and whiny loop.

“Matthew-“ you choke out. “F-fuck…” until you lose your breath. “Matthew. Oh god, Matthew. Matthew, Matthew…”

“I know, I know,” he whispers, tapping his finger to his lips, “Shhh, shhh, shhh…”

“Matth-mm…” he shuts you up with a kiss and your entire body tenses on contact. He mushes his face into yours but still, you will not stop. You will not shut up because it’s not possible. So he keeps his mouth on yours. He swallows every noise you make and muffles his own against your lips. His arms engulf your waist and you bury your face in his neck, helpless moans bursting from the back of your throat.

“Okay, okay…” he murmurs. “Shhh…just let it out for me, baby…c’mon…”

You gasp as you come down on his cock, your body weakening by the second, your arms draped over his shoulders. You lick his neck and he groans, “Shit.”

You grip onto him. Tighter, and even tighter, working your hips until you come with a long and loud groan, which would’ve been much louder if Matthew wasn’t holding the back of your head, pushing your face into his neck. You fall limp against him, grinding yourself on his lap to ride the wave.

“Oh, that’s my girl,” he purrs, peppering kisses on your shoulder.

You shudder and let out a small squeak, overstimulated as he starts to lift his hips, push his cock into you. “O-oh, fuck,” he stutters.

You hold his face, run your hands down his chest and watch his belly flex as he angles himself inside of you. You can hardly keep yourself up, keep your eyes open, but when he very suddenly chokes out a moan and lifts you off his cock, you gasp, “Oof!” and he shoots all over his stomach. He just didn’t want to make a mess on you. Or, in you. It’s been such a long day.

He trembles, his face twisted up as he finishes all over himself. And his muscles relax into this content smile, which widens once he gets a good look at you.

“Fuck…” he exhales, gives you a light slap on the cheek, “You’re loud, woman.”

You chuckle, covering your mouth, “And this is news to you?”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, laughing, “Definitely not.”

You lean down and catch him in a kiss. This one, gentle. Slow. Sweet. He pecks at your lips and promptly pats your ass, “Let me go get cleaned up, mama.”

You nod and roll right off of him, landing face first into your pillow. You feel the bed shift as he stands, but cannot muster the energy to watch him walk away. He returns to find you in the same position and because you are too lazy to look up, you don’t see it coming when he slaps your ass.

“Ow!” you shout and now you look at him.

“You still have to eat,” he grins, placing himself back in bed.

You bury your face in the pillow, whining, “But I’m so tired.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he reaches over you and grabs the plate from your nightstand. “You still gotta eat. C’mon, c’mon.”

You groan and roll over, sitting up to lay in the crook of his arm. He sets the plate in your lap and picks up a chip, holding it to your lips. You sigh and take it in your mouth, chewing it with your eyes half closed.

“Sandwich, too,” he holds it up for you.

You open your mouth to take a small bite and he pulls it away, “No, you can open your mouth wider than that, we both know it.”

You gasp and swat his arm, making him throw his head back and cackle. And just as you go to take a Matthew-approved sized bite, there’s a tired cry from the baby monitor and you both pause. Go absolutely silent. Still. You don’t breathe. Not until Rhiannon rolls over in her crib, grabs her lovey and goes right back to sleep. Then, and only then, do the two of you relax again.

“Phew,” Matthew says. “Okay, sandwich now.”

You roll your eyes at him and finally, you take a bite.

You fall asleep on his chest, but you wake up alone. You roll over to check the time, finding empty beds on every monitor and you grumble to yourself.

Just outside the door, Matthew is walking down the hall with Rhiannon in his arms, Leo holding his hand and Amelia at his side. The plan was, as always, to get them downstairs for breakfast. The plan, as always, does not go the way it should.

“Daddy?” Leo calls. “Where’s mommy?”

“That’s your favorite question, isn’t it?” Matthew laughs.

“Is she at our house?”

“Yeah, she’s sleeping, buddy. She had a long day at work yesterday.”

“But I want mommy.” Leo whines.

“Well, we don’t wanna wake her up. We gotta let her rest.”

“What if we just go look at mommy but we don’t wake her up?” Always, always Amelia with the bright and clever ideas.

Matthew purses his lips as they approach your bedroom door, “You guys have to be quiet, okay? Promise?”

The two of them nod, and they’ve got those satisfied grins on their face only reserved for when they get their way. Matthew quietly opens the door and they find you laid out on your stomach, your head facing the other direction.

“Mommy’s sleeping?” Leo asks.

“Yeah, buddy, I told you. She’s tired, but she’ll be up soon.”

“But-but-but-but…” he stammers. “Can we just give her a kiss?”

This question is what wakes you.

Matthew sighs and glances at your still frame, back down to Leo, “You can give her a kiss, but be gentle.”

He helps the two of them onto the bed and you feel the weight of them landing on the mattress, crawling over to you. You’re trying your best not to laugh, but you cannot keep yourself from smiling. Leo kneels at your side and just as he promised, very carefully and quietly kisses the top of your head. You poke your bottom lip out, melting from the act of love. Amelia places a soft kiss on your shoulder and you just. Can’t even.

“Who’s that kissing me?” you speak suddenly, reaching around to grab Leo’s leg, which makes him scream in excitement. “Who is that? Who is this?” you grab onto Amelia and she squeals.

You flop over and they burst into laughter, Leo instantly falling onto your chest. It knocks the air out of you but in the very best way possible. Amelia piles on top of him and you free yourself just enough to reveal your face to Rhiannon who kicks her feet once the realization hits. Matthew sets her on the bed, grinning like a mad man at the sight of you all. Rhiannon finds herself in the middle of a tight, tight, tight hug.

You kiss their heads, “Oh, hi, my babies,” you laugh. “Hello, hello, hello.”

“Um, mommy?” Amelia calls.

“Yes, my love?”

“Did you have to stay at work when it was nighttime?”

“Yeah, baby, I did. I know it’s hard when mommy works for so long, but I’m back now and I’m just so excited to see you!” you squeal, “Mwah!” and place another kiss on her forehead.

“Hey, do you think you guys can go help daddy with breakfast while mommy gets dressed?”

They nod and you whisper, “Thank youuu,” embracing them one last time.

Matthew smiles at you as they leave the room, and with a good orgasm, a good meal and a good night’s rest in your system, you hop right out of bed. You brush your teeth, change your clothes, fix your hair, until you have the perfect I’m-not-leaving-this-house-today look.

You step out of the bathroom and gasp as you see Matthew rushing towards you. Before you can react, he’s backing you against the wall and putting his mouth on yours, wide open, starving, with his hands gripping at your waist.

“Mm…” you hum when he suddenly pulls away. You giggle, shoving his chest, “Freak.”

He cackles and kisses you again. Again. Once more. Last one. He picks up your hand, places one single kiss on your knuckles, “C’mon, sexy lady, let’s go have some breakfast.”

#mine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler smut

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missmeinyourbones · 1 year

Text

WHERE LOVE LIVES

big bro touya & little snotty brother shouto, noncanon verse where rei got the kids the fuck out of that house!!!! slightly suggestive at first but shouto is a cockblock, i love u todobros, part 2?

Against the creaks of the floorboards and the buzz of the streetlights outside, the Todoroki household is relatively calm.

It’s barely the beginning of summer. Though it's rather late, the sun only set a mere hour ago and the humidity in the air still holds up, even without the harsh rays marinating the sky.

The Todoroki house itself is on the smaller side, especially for a family as large as they are. Filled to the brim with trinkets and out of place belongings, there’s not much wiggle room for architectural design or things that aren't deemed necessities.

But it’s well-loved, by a gentle mother and her four rowdy children. There are scratches on the floor from Shouto’s scooter that’s meant to be used only outdoors, and a chip in the beige paint from where Natsuo pushed Touya into the wall. Fuyumi’s work sneakers carefully sit beside the front door’s welcome mat. It’s a house and a home.

With Touya’s mother out for the night, the eldest son was left in charge of the house—and with that, his siblings. When your boyfriend charmingly invited you to spend the night at his place, he might’ve left out that tiny detail.

“Babe,” the squeaking of Touya’s mattress can he heard as he whines against your cheek, “you serious?”

You push him, though your warm smile betrays your rough action, “Deadly.”

Touya smirks at your resistance—he’s always loved a good challenge. His hands crawl up your sides, squeezing at the sensitive skin by your hips and waist. He laughs under his breath when you gasp on top of him at the brushing of his fingertips.

“Not even a quickie?” he smugly instigates.

“Touya, all three of your siblings are home.”

He remains unphased, shrugging beneath you. His chapped lips find your neck, crawling up to your jaw and right below your ear. He sucks a bit harshly on the one spot he knows you like so much.

“So? We can be quiet.”

You laugh at his bold words, and Touya hums happily against the vibration of your throat.

“You’ve never been quiet a day in your life,” you remind him.

“I could learn,” he’s quick to retort. With a sudden buck of his hips, you feel his half-hard length rub briefly against your heat. Touya doesn't miss the way you bite your tongue to hide your whimper.

At his foul play, you lean in dangerously close—not close enough to give him the satisfaction of your lips touching—before whispering.

“Sorry, I don’t fuck bad babysitters.”

Touya’s tongue skims his canine as he growls. “That’s a fuckin’ lie and you know it.”

You let him kiss you, and it's short and sweet despite his lewd words. But Touya works for more. His soft tongue tries to encourage your mouth to open, but you let him fail the first few times. On his third persistent try, you let your jaw fall open just enough to allow him access into your mouth.

A soft moan purrs in your chest, and when Touya opens his eyes to take in (what he knows to be) the alluring sight, his eyes catch a tiny figure standing in his bedroom doorway.

“Fuckin’ christ—” he jumps beneath you, bucking you off in the process and scootching upwards against his bedframe.

You turn in panic to look at the now cracked open door, only to see a tiny Shouto. With squinting eyes and a pout on his face, his dainty hand fiddles against the doorknob of your boyfriend’s room.

Touya runs his hands through his overgown roots in frustration.

Now, he knows how dramatic he can be at times, but he means it when he says that this might be the worst thing to ever happen to him. Shouto, of all people, cockblocking you two. It’s like a comedy sketch written by his own personal devil.

“The fuck are you doing up?” he dares to ask him, though you don’t miss the “fuckin’ perv” he grumbles at the end of the question.

“I—” a sniffled hiccup interrupts the smallest Todoroki’s declaration, “don’t feel good.”

Touya glares at his whimpering younger brother, unimpressed. “Go tell Natsuo,” he decides.

“He’s asleep,” Shouto immediately whines in reply, because of course he tried Natsuo first. “And Fuyumi is studying for her big test tomorrow,” his voice drifts off as his eyes find the floor.

Touya, the last resort sibling, kisses his teeth and throws a pillow towards the door.

“Well, ’m busy, too.” He returns to nip at your neck once more, but the glare you give him tells him otherwise. Unphased by your glare, he continus to lean in, but you dodge his advance and push his shoulder with your palm.

“Fuck,” he groans dramatically, throwing his head back in frustration. He turns his direction back to the boogery nuisance in his doorway. “Go drink water or something,” he waves him off with a hand.

“Touya,” you hiss at your boyfriend’s coldness. He looks at you and shrugs, as if you’d approve of his dismissive reaction. Your eyes roll just as quickly as your voice beckons softly, “Come here, Shouto.”

You move to the edge of the bed and the sniffly boy trots over to you on heavy feet. His pajamas are wrinkled, presumably from tossing and turning in his bed for the last few hours. His hands hover over his abdomen as he hunches in nausea.

Your hand finds his forehead, sticky with sweat. “What doesn’t feel good?”

Shouto’s nose crinkles in disgust, and Touya rolls his eyes at the dramatics.

You’re no stranger to any of the Todoroki siblings, especially the baby of the family. Between attending his school concerts and going out for ice cream celebrations, it’s safe to say there’s a lot of talk in the house about Touya’s pretty girlfriend—whom all siblings aren’t shy to vocalize is way out of his league.

“My stomach feels weird,” he whispers behind a frown.

You coo at his agony, fingers rubbing his boyish cheeks in an attempt to soothe his discomfort. “Well, what did you eat last?”

Shouto thinks for a moment behind his usual deadpan expression before his eyes slowly flicker over to where his older brother huffs on his bed.

“Touya got us pizza for dinner,” he remembers.

“Okay,” you nod. You remember seeing a few discarded pizza boxes when you first came in. “How many slices did you have?”

Shouto clams up in guilt at your innocent question, fumbling with his fingers and words as he croaks out a weak, “Seven…”

Your eyes grow in shock, but you’re able to suppress your surprise and merely nod before not so discreetly turning to his guardian for the night behind you in disappointment.

Touya looks like a deer caught in headlights when you hiss through clenched teeth. “Seven?! What is wrong with you?”

He shrugs defensively, gesturing to the blob of red, white, and sniffles behind you.

“He’s like… old,” Touya attempts to defend himself. “Figured I didn't have to watch him eat.”

Your eyes shoot daggers through his skin, and while he would normally love getting this look from you, he hates that it's in defense of his stupid brother.

“Okay,” you sigh, turning back to the younger Todoroki. His eyes soften when you extend a hand to his slightly chubbier one, “Why don’t we go find some medicine and lay down for a bit, yeah?”

Shouto’s face lights up at the offer—but naturally, with one Todoroki sibling’s happiness comes another’s demise.

“Woah woah woah—” Touya immediately stands up from his bed when his brother links your hand in his. He points at an accusatory at the little fucker when he gawks, “Who the fuck is ‘we’? Shouto knows where the medicine is.”

“Touya,” comes your same warning from earlier, and while Touya loves pushing your buttons, he knows his final strike is always the third.

So the three of you make your way downstairs—you and Shouto hand in hand while Touya grumpily trudges behind you.

Touya’s right—for once in his life—because Shouto naturally guides you right to the medicine closet, opening the door for you and everything. What a little gentleman.

A quick browse of the options and you decide on a bottle labeled for stomach relief. The bottle itself is opened but decently full, and Shouto behaves like a pro when he grabs himself a glass of water in preparation for his dose.

You pour the designated amount into a medicine cup and lightly cringe at the thick consistency. The artificial advertisement of bubblegum and strawberry can only do so much to disguise the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s still medicine. You hear Touya stifle a gag from behind you, but you know it’s half to piss his younger brother off.

Shouto remains unphased, downing the liquid like a champ and silently rinsing out his mouth with his water. You swear you see him shoot Touya a look, one with slightly raised eyebrows that reads something along the lines of victory.

You usher the two of them to the couch. Touya plops on the cushions obnoxiously, going as far as reaching for the television remote before you pluck it from his grasp.

Though you sit beside him, knees skimming one another, it’s not enough for Touya—because Shouto makes himself at home with his head in your lap. Bastard.

With a nod of approval from Shouto, you decide on some cartoon from the early 90s—something with talking animals and childish violence.

The silence between the three of you takes over, but it’s warm—like a relaxing blanket of weight. The Todoroki household is rarely quiet, let alone a good kind of quiet, so Touya decides to let Shouto win this round.

He shifts his gaze to look down at his youngest brother. Shouto lays comfortably on your lap, your hands delicately raking through his hair to help lull him to sleep. When he feels Touya’s hard gaze on him, he has no issue returning the stare. Under your embrace, Shouto smiles mischievously and sticks his tongue out in a taunt.

With Touya’s feet clunkily spread out on the coffee table and his arm loosely draped around your shoulder, he silently mouths to his brother.

“Bitch.”

#I had a BALL with this one #i love u todobros #touya x you #touya x reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya fic #dabi fic #touya fluff #dabi fluff

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ickadori · 5 months

Text

++ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

[summary] nanami comes to the school per gojo’s request, but finds you instead.

[cws] fem reader -> reader is a student. unedited.

Nanami wasn’t a teacher, but he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that a lot of the younger sorcerers saw him as one, and even admired him to some degree.

It was… troublesome.

He knew what becoming overly attached to people in this world meant and it wasn’t worth it. It would only make their death that much more painful when the time came, and Nanami had already experienced enough pain to last him in the next lifetime. So he kept everyone at a distance, even Ino, and especially you, but you had always been good at closing that distance time and time again and finding a way to burrow yourself into his thoughts and under his skin.

This is just another one of those times - except this time, his usual resistance had been nowhere to be found. You had managed to chip it away bit by bit with your salacious ways - a brush of your painted nails along the back of his neck whenever you passed him by, a sly bite of your lip whenever you caught his stare, a brazen spread of your legs whenever you wore a skirt in his presence, a brush of your breasts against his arm whenever you solicited him for his help, voice set in a low tone as you invaded his personal space.

You had employed those same tactics today; a low cut shirt coupled with a skirt that was completely out of regulations, and freshly painted nails that housed the same design as the tie looped around his neck.

He had come to the school on rare business with Gojo, and you had somehow managed to corner him in an empty class instead, eyes practically shining as you ensnared him in your trap.

“How nice of you to stop by to see me, Kento.”

“I’m here to see Gojo, not you.” He stepped around you, fully intent on leaving the room and you with it, but your hand snagged hold of his jacket. He looked down to your hand, then followed your wrist up to your arm and so forth, tired eyes clashing with your playful ones. “I don’t have time for your games today.”

“Luckily for you, this isn’t a game. I genuinely need your help.” You smiled, and he should have shaken you off and left right then instead of letting you step closer. “I’ve been having a bit of trouble with something, and Gojo-sensei is always too busy for anything one-on-one.”

“We’re both aware that I’m not a teacher here. I can’t help you.” There’s only an inch of space between the two of you now, and the faint scent of your perfume wafts up from your neck, and Nanami feels a strong urge to duck his head down to get a better smell.

“Oh, I think you can..” You look up at him through your lashes, teeth softly biting down into the plumpness of your glossy, bottom lip before you’re releasing it. “It won’t take up much of your time - pinky promise.” You cheekily offer your pinky to him, and to keep the smile on your face he lets you hook it around his larger one.

You lead him to one of the desks of his youth, and he settles down into the wooden chair, briefly wondering if they were always this small and uncomfortable or if he had really gotten that much bulkier in his older years.

“Like I said earlier, something’s been giving me a lot of trouble recently. I just can’t seem to get it right.” You plop yourself on top of the desk he’s sitting in front of, and his eyebrows raise just a bit as your hands move to clench the ends of your skirt. “It’s a bit embarrassing, so promise not to laugh, ‘kay?”

Your shoes hit the floor, leaving you in a black socks, and Nanami breathes through his nose when you settle your feet on his shoulders.

He swallows.

“What are you doing?” His voice is a low rumble, something churning deep in his gut, and he sucks in a sharp breath when you spread your knees and lift your skirt, revealing your lack of panties. Your lips take a moment to spread, the stickiness of your slick to blame, and his mouth runs dry at the sight of your clit just barely peeking out.

“I haven’t been able to come the last few days, and I’ve been trying so hard, Kento. I even think about you while I touch myself, because you’re so handsome and I like you, y’know? But I still can’t do it…so, can you watch and tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

And that’s how Nanami found himself frozen in his seat, eyes zeroed in on the way you rub fast, tight circles around your clit, hole clenching around nothing as it drools.

Your chest heaves as you work, and he thinks he might croak in his seat when your other hand dips down to push two fingers inside your pussy, a loud, dirty squelch sounding as your slick bubbles up around your digits.

“Ah, Kento,” you gasp, and a bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, over sharp cheeks and an even sharper jaw before disappearing into the neckline of his shirt. “You see…‘s just not working.” Your calves tense, fingers slipping out of your hole to spread your juices around, and Gods is he thirsty. “I need your help, Sir. You’ll help me, won’t you?” Your fingers, still wet and glistening, curl around his tie, and Nanami doesn’t resist as you tug him closer and closer to your heat, your overwhelming scent muddling his thoughts until you’re all he can think about.

Once again.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x reader

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starlightwritcr · 4 months

Text

android gojo headcanons

ok wow this was longer than i thought. i hope you guys enjoy

android sukuna version

You were a beta tester for Jujutsu Technology. Your job description was quite straightforward. You just acted like a customer who bought the product you were testing and gave feedback based on what you experienced.

This time, your employers wanted you to test out the newest of the Gojo line, the S4T0RU model. He was an android for a myriad of purposes. The engineers must've been quite proud of themselves for coming up with him.

He was the strongest and most durable out of all the androids they've come up with, possibly even surpassing the SUKUN4 model. Not only that, but he came with Jujutsu Technology's best intelligence chip, their most advanced one to date. He could learn at speeds no human could match.

He could protect his owner from any and all harm, he assists with all your chores with peak efficiency, he can tutor your children, help out with homework, he could provide companionship... and other more "adult" things.

In short, he's the jack of all trades for androids. There was a reason he cost the highest out of all of them.

For this simulation, you were meant to act as a single mother who recently lost her husband and needs assistance with her two children. The two children were androids created for testing, since it was too risky to use actual children in the process.

It started with unboxing him, the same way any buyer would. So far, you encountered no issues. Setup just required you to log into the app and configure the mode you need him for. Options included: Fighter mode, Caretaker mode, and... Pleasure mode. You clicked on "Caretaker mode".

When he woke up from his slumber, he greeted you and your children. Megumi didn't take too well to him, but Tsumiki quite liked him. You noted that his voice module was fully operational, no glitching or echoing. This version of him was still a prototype so his personality was a bit blank for the time being. It'd likely only start developing after spending time with you and the kids.

Your theory was proven right when you put the S4T0RU android to the test, asking him to do basic chores like vacuuming the floor and cleaning up the kids' toys. Tsumiki showered him in praises, which he basked in, wearing a smug smirk as he showed off his prowess.

You couldn't help the amused smile as you watched him pick up the sofa with one hand to vacuum, even though he could've just moved it to the side to achieve the same results. An android that was a showoff. How interesting.

Next task was to test his skill in teaching, asking him to help homeschool Megumi. It would prove to be a little more difficult than the basic house chores. This was especially the case with Megumi's model, who was designed to simulate a more... difficult and moody child. Androids who couldn't handle him usually didn't make the cut and got scrapped.

Despite Satoru's initial rocky start with him, he eventually got the hang of it and figured out how to get the child android to listen.

The more you spent time with him, the more attached you felt to the android. Out of all the androids, he seemed the most... lovable.

You weren't part of the Pleasure Department so you didn't have the most experience regarding the more... sensual androids.

But you couldn't quite recall whether the previous androids you tested were as... touchy as Satoru was. You never seemed to go a day where he hasn't had his large arms wrapped around your waist or shoulder.

While assisting you with chores, he made conversation, asking you about your interests and hobbies. He listened intently, hanging onto every word of your responses.

Whenever you got back home from "work", you'd find him playing with the kids, either having tea parties with Tsumiki or watching animal documentaries with Megumi. Upon noticing your arrival, his eyes light up with excitement. He rushes to your side, eager to help you relax after a long day.

He'd make you a cup of your favorite drink, making you sigh with relief. Every task you've made him do was a success. He should be good to go now. All you had to do was give him clearance to be mass produced and sold to the public.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, hearing the gentle hum of his system, you felt a twinge of pain, knowing that the life you've grown so attached to will eventually come to an end - that this fabricated life you've built with him would be gone in just a few days.

"Do you have to let me go?" Satoru's question made your heart stop. There was not a single android who has gained awareness of the simulation. But somehow, he acted like this was a fact he understood since long ago.

You let out a shaky breath. "I... have no choice. This is what they pay me for. You'll be taken from me regardless."

He gave you a chesire smile. "Their first mistake was giving me the tools to bust us out of here."

Satoru disconnected his system from the Jujutsu Network and grabbed the two kids, doing the same to them. Alarms started blaring, alerting all the workers that an android had gone rogue.

He picked the three of you up, breaking out of the compound.

You weren't quite sure what the future had in store for you. But you were sure that you'd be fine as long as you had Satoru and your newfound family by your side.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 9 months

Text

my love has no direction (and my anger is a vice)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: reader is physically injured but it doesn't specify the cause, jason is big protective and tries so so hard to be gentle

a/n: alright alright y'all know the drill there's more written lemme know if you want it

You're staring at your reflection in the mirror, gnawing your bottom lip as you wonder how you'll explain the bruises across your cheekbone and around your eye. You hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that Jason doesn't get back when he says he will - that whatever work he's away doing as Redhood will take just a few extra days and you'll heal enough to be able to hide it.

Your thoughts screech to a halt, though, when the man himself steps into the doorway of the bathroom and lets his duffle bag drop to the floor when he sees you.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" Jason questions immediately as he stares at you, his eyes trailing over your form, scanning for more injuries. Instinctively, you go to cover your wrist and forearm, cursing internally when you realize that the only thing that did was bring his attention to the hand-shaped bruises littering your skin.

"Hi," you say quietly. "...how was your trip?" Jason all but snarls and stalks toward you, bringing his hand to your face so that he can gently, gently, hold your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilt your head, examining the bruises. You can tell he's noticed the small cuts from rings making contact with your skin when his jaw clenches even more and his eyes focus on yours.

"Baby," he starts, and the edge in his voice makes you still. He's angry, you realize, in a way you've never seen before. It's right there, under the surface, straining to get out, and the only thing stopping it is the fact that you haven't given him a direction to shoot in yet. "You are not going to pretend this is fine. We are not ignoring this. You need to tell me what happened."

"I know, Jase," you respond, shoulders slumping. You're tired, he realizes, and it's most likely that the adrenaline of whatever happened is wearing off. He slides an arm around you and lets you lean into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I just… I'm not just deflecting, you know. You're okay? Everything went okay?"

"Nothing worse than some scrapes" he soothes, going to wrap his other arm around your waist. You flinch, though, small enough that he wouldn't notice if he wasn't so attuned to you. But you're you, his person, and every fibre of his being is trained on you right now. So, of course, he notices. He notices the way you ever so slightly suck in a breath and tense in his arms.

"Baby…" he begins. You drop your gaze away from his. "Let me see, yea? We can wait to talk about what happened until you're ready, but I gotta make sure you're okay."

"I am okay," you mumble, still determinedly keeping your eyes away from his as you fiddle with the front of his Redhood armour.

"Can I check?" he prompts, and he's so gentle about it, so soft and caring and loving that it makes your bottom lip tremble. You nod in response and he presses a kiss against your forehead, murmuring thanks into your skin.

You step away from him so that you can begin to lift yourself onto the counter, but Jason makes a strained sort of noise and stops you, instead lifting you gently up onto it, keeping a careful eye on you to ensure he's not hurting you at all. Once you're sat on the counter, you spread your legs so that he can slot his hips between them and he places his hands on either side of your hips.

"Can I lift your shirt, sweetheart?" he asks softly and the whole thing, how kind and considerate he's being, chips away at you a little too much. Your breath hitches and your hands tighten their grip on the counter and you rip your gaze away from his.

"You just got home, Jase. You gotta be tired - why don't you shower, get out of your armour and stuff. We can do this later."

"Baby," Jason sighs as he cups your unbruised cheek in his palm and brings your face back to his. When you realize you can't avoid his gaze anymore you simply close your eyes, refusing to see the way he looks at you. "Can you look at me, sweetheart? Come on, hey, I'm here to keep you safe, yea? I'm gonna help you. I'm gotta make sure you're alright."

And that's all it takes for a sob to make its way out of your throat. You move to hide your face in your hands as you begin to cry, but Jason stops you gently, using a hand on the back of your head to guide you into his chest, letting you bury your face there and weep.

"Shh, shh, baby. It's okay. You go ahead and cry, get it all out. You're safe now, yea? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." Jason soothes as your hands grab at the jacket that serves as the outer layer of his armour. Truth be told, he is tired. He was away for a week dealing with this job and he can feel the way his body is aching and his head is swimming with exhaustion. But none of that, nothing else in the world matters when he has you, bruised and bloody and weeping into his chest.

Truthfully, there's not much that scares him more than this, and seeing you in this state has him rattled, forcing his own tiredness to the back of his mind. You, his baby, who is always so brave and stoic, who he remembers as a teenager getting into street fights and laughing through a mouthful of blood on several occasions, is trembling in his arms from fear and exhaustion and he's not even sure what else because he doesn't know what happened and you're in no state to tell him. So all he can do is stand there, keeping you in his arms and whispering any sort of reassurance he can think of into your hair. His aching legs be damned, there is nothing, nothing, that is going to make him move an inch until you are good and ready.

#smsn.writes #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine

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linnamonrolls0 · 5 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there.

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink.

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!”

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely…

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard…

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him.

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking?

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all.

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

#lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin manuel x reader #hermes x reader #pjo hermes #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #my gif #my fic #pjo hermes fanfic #can't help it i love him

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quibbs126 · 4 months

Text

Oh yeah I been drawing these the past couple days. It’s mostly just random sketches

I don’t really know what I was doing with the line colors, but whatevs, it’s fine

First was the Dark Choco one, it was because I was thinking of the Nimona shark dance scene. I didn’t draw the shoulder pads because I didn’t want to

I think I wanted to draw one of the twin dragons with him, but since we don’t yet know what hey look like, I couldn’t

Then the Financier and Madeleine thing was just based on a headcanon I had about their relationship in the past. Basically my idea is that Financier was something of a mentor to Madeleine back in their academy days, with her being a couple years older than him. It’s also partially why in current day she’s not the fondest of him; not because she dislikes him, but because she’s frustrated he doesn’t live up to the full potential she knows he has. They’re supposed to be doing the Spider-Man pose meme

I had ideas for what to do for their hair, but nothing about their outfits. I just did whatever

After that I kind of ran out of ideas to draw. I asked someone on Discord and they told me to draw Parfait, so I drew her jamming out to rock on the floor. I had no references but I think it turned out fine

Then after that I decided to draw younger Carrow and Crunchy

Carrow was first, and it was like a redo of this old design I did of her old self back when I just got into the fandom

She’s supposed to be just starting out in the Watchers or training with them, around 12-14

Then after that I was going to draw small Crunchy Chip, but because I headcanon him to now be the oldest between this trio, I felt I had to draw him older to convey that, with him being around 18-20 here (at the time Carrow is 12-14). Honestly his design isn’t that good, Caramel Arrow’s is way better. I just didn’t really know what to do for it other than give him longer hair and maybe make him look moody? But yeah other than that he didn’t turn out that great

And after that I realized I had basically used the whole page, so might as well post

I might do more of these, who knows?

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark choco cookie #financier cookie #madeleine cookie #parfait cookie #caramel arrow cookie #crunchy chip cookie #headcanon #my art

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hellishjoel · 11 months

Text

blue collar man

4.1k / joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

Summary: Your boyfriend Joel is up to his ears busy with his contracting business. Tired and sore, he comes home to learn you’ve made the rest of the night all about him.

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: Fluff, mentions of sex (but no actual sex), mentioned age difference, fluffy fluff fluff because blue collar man Joel Miller deserves it! He’s running a biz-ness!

A/N: based on this lovely request! I hope I could bring your request to life, I breezed through it so fast because I love him, he’s baby.

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him. “Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.

Joel had found a lot of success with Miller Contracting over the summer months. Business was booming and his early mornings until late nights were dedicated to working on multiple projects to get things done on time for his clients. Joel worked on referrals mostly, so when he finished a client’s remodeled hill country home in late winter, the client had raved over Joel’s professionalism and hard work to their friends and now he had a list of upcoming projects.

Truthfully, you didn’t know much about contractors until you started dating Joel. You quickly began to understand the vastness of his duties. One day he could be working on home renovation projects where he was doing demolition like removing the walls or floors, electrical and plumbing work, flooring installation, even down to the last coat of paint.

Other opportunities were commercial like on a small office building downtown where he did site preparation, set the foundation, worked on the beams and columns, all the way up to finishing the roof. Whatever he couldn’t do himself that was a bit more specialized, he hired subcontractors to work on like heating, ventilation, and air conditioning.

What he hated the most was landscaping projects. He’d have to do the design layout of a large backyard garden and plant trees and flowers or work on seeding grass if it was a particularly hot Texas summer. Then he would add irrigation systems like sprinklers, pathways for people to walk on, pergolas for outdoor hosting, finishing it off with pretty and unique outdoor light fixtures. God forbid the client wanted a pond.

“Do you know how annoying koi fish are? They just… stare at ya while you’re tryin’ to work.”

You had grown to love the handy man that Joel was. Before you were moved in to his place, your shitty little apartment needed so much love that your asshole landlord never took the time to come and fix. But Joel would. That was his form of romance. He didn’t bring you flowers or chocolates on the first dates. Joel was replacing your leaky shower head and tightening your jiggly door knobs. He also managed to match the paint color on your walls so he could cover up the scrapes he made after he railed you into your mattress so hard that the frame made a few chips.

You were so happy to see his business getting the high recognition it deserved, however, Joel was taking quite the beating from it. You could tell by the way he slinked back into the house at the end of the night, his frame hunched over and walking with a slight limp.

He was sore, muscles aching and knees screaming at him. His joints were swollen by the end of the day and his sweaty, sticky skin ached for a refreshing shower.

The hardest part was always trying to shut off his mind when he got home. He was already thinking about the next day. What didn’t get done on time, what shipments of supplies were expected, how the delays would set the project back. He needed a break.

“Can’t take time off right now, baby. I’ve got deadlines to meet.”

There was this one specific project that was giving him hell. He called it the Astor because it was on Astor street. Every night this week he had come home beyond late because of the problems with the Astor. First it was that the project was exceeding the client’s budget, so they were giving him grief about that. Then it was labor shortage stuff, not being able to get people out there which then in turn caused timeline delays. With the client out of the country most of the time, Joel was receiving little to no communication from the owner. He was fighting permit and regulatory issues with the city, every day it was something new that caused a headache behind his eyes.

His dedication was admirable, but you knew that him being so physically and mentally clouded wasn’t good for him or for Miller Contracting.

You didn’t know shit about contracting, but you did know Joel.

You had texted him earlier in the day to drop whatever he was working on no later than 5 o’clock in the evening. You never did that, never told him to leave work early. But the last thing he wanted was for him to come home and have you upset with him. That was worse than any project issue.

Tonight would be about Joel. Anything you could do to make the stress melt away, you would try.

Joel pushed open the front door once home, a heavy sigh leaving him as he closed the door back in place and set his lunch box and keys down on the entry table.

“Joel?” Your voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Hi, baby.” His voice was low from the lack of energy.

Joel slowly moved down on one knee, a heavy breath exiting through clench teeth as his kneecaps throbbed while he untied one boot, then the other. They were covered in dust even down to the creases, steel toe covers making his feet sore.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked as you grabbed a dish towel to wipe your hands with before tossing it on the counter, greeting him halfway as he made his way through the living room.

You were up on your tippy toes for a kiss, not wanting him to have to bend over and exert himself. He hated when you treated him like an old man, but with this job, you always teased him that it was coming sooner rather than later.

He kept his hands to himself, knowing they were a bit greasy and sweaty. His overgrown beard hairs tickled your face as you peppered him with a few extra kisses, one of his eyebrows playfully raising.

“Was fine. Did you see what I texted you?” He asked as he looked down at you, watching as your fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, helping lift it off his head.

“Mhm. The HVAC guys didn’t show up until noon even though you scheduled them for nine in the morning. Did you see I texted you back? Five hours ago.” Your teasing tone made him crack a smile.

Joel was bad at texting. Typical guy thing, typical older guy thing. He said he wouldn’t even have a phone if it wasn’t for work and if Sarah didn’t insist on how texting was the new way of communication. Even though you texted him ten minutes after his initial one, his phone was already back in his pocket and he had long forgotten about your conversation as he returned to his work day.

His response came out in a chortle, a heavy breath through his nose since he was too tired to chuckle.

“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to complain, I guess.” He said as he watched you fiddle with his Miller Contracting shirt that had a worn in hole by the neckline. He went to reach for it, wanting to toss it into the dirty clothes bin, but you were quick to hold it to your chest.

“I’ve got it.” You said as you went to give him a soft kiss to the open plane of his chest, smiling at the salt and pepper chest hair he was sporting. It looked so good on him. You walked off to the bedroom and did it yourself, grabbing him a fresh shirt for the rest of the evening, a pair of boxers, and his worn dark plaid pajama pants he liked.

Joel’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. A heavenly smell was drawing him into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. You had green beans in a frying pan and a gravy softly bubbling in a sauce pan. Then in a skillet was the most perfect looking chicken fried steak, the coating coming to the perfect crisp. He pulled the oven handle open just an inch to see golden biscuits rising.

“I put clean clothes on the counter in the bathroom, go shower, handsome.” You said before returning to the kitchen, frowning as he found his dinner before you had a chance to plate it.

“Joel.” You playfully scolded, pinching at his hip. “You’re ruining your own surprise.” You teased as you shooed him out of the kitchen, hearing an audible grumble in his stomach. It made you sport a proud grin. It was his favorite meal, said it reminded him of his mom’s cooking growing up with Tommy.

“I’m making mashed potatoes, too.” You said as you drained the water the potatoes were soaking in, putting them in a new bowl and getting out some milk and butter.

“You’re makin’ me hungry.” He hummed with a small, tired smile as his hands came up loosely on your hips.

His hands on you instantly made you grin, gently shaking your head at him as his head came to rest by your own.

“You’re distractin’ me.” His low voice carrying the weight of his day.

“No, you’re distracting me.” You made clear as your elbow playfully dug into the core of his stomach.

“Go shower, please. You smell like drywall dust… and paint.”

He rolled his eyes with his smile still lingering.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.” He said as his lips dropped down to place a sweet kiss of sincerity at the base of your neck, a shiver rolling up you as you let out a huff and returned your focus to your five-star meal.

You heard the water hit against the shower wall and his small radio crackled to life, finalizing the last touches to Joel’s favorite dinner.

Joel came back to the living room in the clothes you had set out for him, his hair slicked back wet from his shower. God, he looked so good.

“Here.” You handed him his plate, seeing his lips part in excitement. His stomach let out an audible rumble. He probably didn’t have a spare minute to eat his lunch today, poor thing.

The two of you settled on the couch, Joel expecting you to turn on one of your shows since a new episode came out today.

“Do you uhm.. Maybe wanna watch one of those movies where they’re flying the jet planes? You said you wanted to show me it a while ago.” You offered, glancing over to see him already inhaling his food with the fork scraping across the plate to not let a single bit of gravy escape him. But your offer made him pause.

“You wanna watch Top Gun? You hate Tom Cruise.”

“Well, yeah, he seems kind of like a douchebag, but it’s okay.” His eyes narrowed on you as he thought about your offer but ultimately shook his head, shrugged, and kept eating.

“‘t’s fine, you can put somethin’ on.” He said as he stabbed a green bean, smeared some mashed potatoes on it before putting it past his lips.

You took a deep breath and issued him the remote control.

“You pick something tonight, honey. It’s your night.”

That caught Joel’s attention. His head whipped a little to fast towards you, his thick eyebrows furling at the concept.

“‘t’s not my night. It’s a Thursday.”

The look you gave him set him straight.

“Okay, okay.. It’s my night.” He declared in playful defense, taking in a deep breath through his nose and opted for some old Western show he liked. You didn’t care much for it, but Joel did.

Once you two finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table and discarded, your head was on his shoudler and your hand ran slow, soothing circles over his chest. You could feel him breathing deeply, relaxing with you.

You asked him questions about the main characters, showing genuine interest. Even going as far as to add a dramatic gasp when a shot was fired from a cowboy’s revolver which made him let out a hearty laugh.

“You’re so full of it.”

He was talking with a huge grin, you could hear it in how he spoke, and it warmed your heart.

Towards the end of your night, your hands were in yellow dish gloves as you washed your plates from dinner, sliding the clean ones between the dividers of your drying rack.

Joel slipped his strong arms low around your waist, his burly shoulders pressing into your own as you nearly toppled over with his presence

“Thanks for dinner tonight. Hit the spot.” He said as he kissed your cheek then on a spot where your jawline met your neck, right by your ear. His beard hairs tickled. You could feel that they were freshly trimmed now, he probably felt a lot better.

“Night’s not over yet.” You hummed, a playful smile on your lips that he was quick to take notice of.

“Oh?” His voice dropped an octave, rolling your eyes a bit as you dug your elbow into his stomach for the second time tonight to put some space between you.

“Okay, cowboy. Relax. How about you go to the bedroom and take your shirt off. I’ll be there in a sec.” Your choice of words were still leading him in a different direction, you almost felt bad. But it was funny watching him get worked up.

After finishing the dishes and blowing out the eucalyptus scented candles, you peaked into your bedroom. Joel was still cautiously removing his shirt, moving slow as to not disturb his aching muscles. You hated seeing him come home every night like this, as if his body had just been in a fight and taken a brutal beating.

Joel undid the clasp of his watch, the band and watch face dirty and making digging a bruise into his wrist, but it told the time. He felt better after his shower, having made it a steamy one to relax the stinging in his upper neck and shoulders as well as his lower back.

His belly was good and full, happy to have something homemade rather than a quick pizza in the oven or just a cold bottle of beer before bed.

You were taking care of him tonight. Not that you didn’t every other night. He was actually giving you the time to take proper care of him. It felt off at first, taking on all the attention he usually reserved for you after long days. But maybe it’s what he needed.

His head turned as he felt a warm pair of arms circle just above his plaid pajama pants, your soft fingers undoing the knot he had tied in the front of them.

“I would’a taken my pants off for ya if you’d just ask.” His tone taunting, stepping out of the soft material before spinning in your arms and attempting to scoop you into him.

“Lay back, goofball.” You said with that gleaming smile of yours. Made his stomach twist. Whatever you had planned, you obviously wanted the lead on.

He did as instructed, happily falling into the comfort of the mattress with ease.

“Close your eyes, please.” Your voice was sweet like honey. He’d follow it into the shadows, into hell, more likely into heaven since it’s where Joel thought you belonged.

He could already fall asleep, though it was no later than eight. He felt the bed dip first at his legs, your body shifting up to sit by his hip. His hand naturally felt out for you, his warm palm holding you at the curve of your lower back.

When Joel was given the okay to open his eyes again, he was surprised to see a few candles lit around the room, the golden glow adding a bit of ambiance.

He watched as you squirted a few pumps of a lotion in your hands, circling it up in your palms to make it a little warm before you started to lather it into his calves.

The sensation made his breath hitch. You were giving him a massage? He sat up on his elbows and watched the white-ish cream get all wrapped up in his dark leg hair.

“Darlin’-”

“Shh.”

He tightened his lips, feeling a bit futile all of a sudden. There was a pause before he spoke again.

“Don’t have to do this for me.” He insisted, his eyes on yours, but you were focused on adding subtle pressure to his calf muscles.

“Know I don’t have to. I want to. Lay back down.”

You wanted to. You wanted to take time out of your evening and bathe him in attention. You had cooked one of his favorite meals, and to perfection he might add. You also let him watch a show he wanted to watch, something he knew you didn’t have a taste for. But you were intrigued anyway, to show you cared.

He was so comfortable and at ease, the problems of today didn’t seem to matter much anymore when you were here to greet him so lovingly.

Your fingers kneaded gently into his skin, Joel’s eyes dipping closed as he began to sink deeper into the mattress. Of course he couldn’t just do nothing. He had his warm palm splayed on your back where the shirt you were wearing was riding up a little bit. You smiled at the gesture. No matter how much effort you tried to dedicate to Joel, he was still showing his care even when he was dead exhausted.

You worked the lotion up into his thighs, the slight tug on his hairs making his face crinkle a little. You dared not to get too high, again, not to give him the wrong idea of where the massage was heading. It was okay to be just attentive to his needs for tonight. You could relax him in other more sensual ways another time. He needed something a little deeper.

You leaned down and peppered sweet kisses up his torso and over those salt and pepper chest hairs you admire so much, stopping just at his lips with a small smile.

“So handsome.” You praised in a whisper, kissing him with a grin on your lips.

He hummed softly and moved his hand to gently cup the back of your head, keeping your kind presence in his proximity just a moment longer.

“I’m getting too old for you.” He whispered back in a teasing tone, making you bubble up a laugh in your shared space.

“You’ve always been too old for me.” Your thumb gently glided over his chin and admired a small white patch just at the base where his neck sloped down. “But I’ve never minded. Because you’re a good man. A hard working, blue collar man. It’s very sexy.” You teased with a smile, happy to see one blossom on his lips as well.

“Thanks for treatin’ me so good tonight. This week’s been…” he let the sentence die before shaking his head.

“I know, Joel.” You said with a small nod before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips again before sitting up straight.

“Wanna roll over and I’ll do your shoulders?”

He let out a breathless laugh as he looked up at you. “Please.” Like you had to ask.

He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but boy, maybe he should start asking for it.

Joel moved to lay on his belly, letting out a short groan in the process that made your chest flutter.

You let out a short huff before you straddled his back, topping yourself right on his butt after getting a short groan from Joel for being on his tailbone.

More lotion was squirted into your hands before you started to apply it across the landscape of his back.

“We should do a skincare night.” You said, feeling his body shudder at the cold lotion.

“Uh what?” Joel’s voice muffled against the comforter, his head to one side so he could see you just out of his peripheral.

“You know what skincare is, you see me do it every night.”

“I don’t know what the he-ll you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He said, his words stuttering as you pushed particularly harder in his lower back. Jeez, it was knot after knot under your fingertips.

“Ugh, Joel!” You whined as your motions paused.

Joel had a habit of doing this. Declaring he had no idea what it was that you were talking about, making you tirelessly explain for several minutes, before he goes ‘Oh, why didn’t you just say that? I know what that is.” It made you roll your eyes each and every time.

“You’re handsome, but you don’t listen.” You hummed out before cupping your hands at his shoulders and doing circles with good pressure, your upper body weight being put into his stern muscles.

“All I heard you say is that I’m handsome.” He moaned into the sheets, a blush creeping on your cheeks at his comment, but also his heavenly moan.

“It’s.. where you apply skincare to your face. You know, using a cleanser, applying an exfoliator, moisturizer..”

This was when Joel started muffling random nonsense into the sheets and you playfully pushed into his crying shoulders harder until he let out another long groan of discomfort.

“Okay, okay, I know what you’re talkin’ about. Skincare. I don’t need it.”

You tutted, shaking your head as you held in a laugh.

“Everyone needs it. Every. One.” You said as you leaned down and kissed the back of his head where his curls were starting to form.

“Especially you, Joel! Your pores are so big, you’ve got dust and dirt getting all in there. And it’s been so hot outside, your skin’s drying up. Gotta take care of your skin baby.”

“Why? So I’ll look young agian?” He teased as he reached a hand back and squeezed your hip as well as he could from his position.

“Because it’s good for you. Makes me feel good after a really long day.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a throat hum leaving his lips. “Thought I made you feel good after a really long day.”

A huff left your lips as you were back to doing circles into his shoulder with your thumbs. “Shut up.”

The last of the lotion had sunk into his skin, the massage hopefully healing more than just his dry skin.

Night’s like this with Joel were rare, but exceptionally special. He had energy to talk to you about everything under the sun, something you didn’t expect to transpire with your age difference at first. You discussed your mutual plans for the weekend, a barbeque at Tommy’s house. Joel was insisting on you wearing your new bikini, green to match his beautiful eyes. He could be such a horn dog.

He wanted to stay up as long as he could, but the long day he endured couldn’t help but put weight on his eyelids. His words turned to mumbles, his arms snaking around your waist in his silent gesture to fall asleep with you.

You shook your head with a small, tired smile, your hands planting themselves on his forearms to put a stop to his motions.

“Turn around.” You whispered, the notion making his tired eyes pop open with a “huh?” leaving his parted lips.

“You heard me, old man. Turn around.” You said as your hand roamed over his warm hip.

Joel assumed you didn’t want to cuddle tonight, maybe he was too warm for your taste despite the fan running above the both of you.

Joel’s chest tightened as he felt your warm body return right behind him, a bashful grin on his face.

“Are you tryna big spoon me?” His southern accent was dripping heavier than usual with the tiredness stringed in it.

The question erupted a giggle from you, Joel feeling you kiss over his taut shoulder blade.

“I don’t know how well I can big spoon you.. You’re so long.” Your arm tightened around Joel’s waist anway, his big hand finding yours as your fingers interlocked. He felt grateful in this moment, albeit a bit shy about the position. He was used to being the big spoon, it was different for him to be on the receiving end. But it was warm and settling, he couldn’t deny that.

“So I’m uh.. I’m like the ladle to your big spoon?” Joel asked. He could feel your grin on his back, your legs tangling with his own.

“Yes… you’re the ladle, but even the ladle needs a big spoon.” Joel’s blinks slowed until his eyes were closed, heavy with sleep.

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him.

“Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #fluff fic #joel miller one shot fluff

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phoward89 · 4 months

Text

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is a warning himself! Cussing, possessiveness, smoking, Dark! Coriolanus Snow, thoughts of murder to solve problems...

Chapter 1:

Coriolanus was walking downstairs towards your floor, like he did every morning, to meet up with you before school. Ever since he could remember, he walked to school with you. You lived in the same building on the Corso and after becoming friends in kindergarten, well…you became a constant in his life.

Even after he lost his parents in the war and got thrown into a life of poverty, you were still there.

You would always be there or at least that's how he felt.

Why would you be anywhere, but by his side?

You were his best friend; it was expected that you'd be glued to his hip til kingdom come.

But, truth be told, Coriolanus hasn't viewed you as his best friend in a long time. In fact, he was positive that he was obsessively head over heels in love with you.

Yes, he was insanely in love with you.

His best friend.

You've been his ever since you arrived in the Capitol at the tender age of 5.

Your father was an officer serving under his father, General Crassus Snow, in District 12 and decided to send your family to the Capitol when the rebellion started. It was a good thing that he sent your brother, mother, and you away too since he was murdered by rebels along with Coriolanus’ father during the dark days.

So, you've been by Coriolanus’ side during the war and after.

Maybe that's why he felt such a strong pull of possessive love towards you.

Plus, you were in the same boat as him. Living off of your good name and scraping to get by. Attending the Academy with the hopes of acquiring one of the few and highly sought out end of year prizes to pay for university.

Eh, at least your brother sent home his wages from being a peacekeeper to ensure you and your mother didn't starve (too much).

Your brother reminded him so much of his sweet cousin.

His cousin Tigris was stuck slaving away for Fabricia Whatnot. She was supposed to be her apprentice, but she was more or less a glorified maid to the designer.

Also, the pay his cousin received was very low. Unfortunately, she sometimes has to sell her body to afford them an extra head of cabbage or to get him new (old) dress shoes or something that he needed.

Shaking the thought of his cousin selling herself out of his head, Coriolanus walked onto your floor. The 8th floor.

He went over to your door and knocked on it like he did every morning. Except that unlike every morning you didn't answer it with your large smile full of sunshine and roses that you reserved just for him.

No…

This morning he was met with the sight of your mother opening the door in an outdated silk kimono. An opera length cigarette holder dangled between her fingers. The plum nail polish chipping as if she hasn't had her nails done in weeks.

Actually, when Coriolanus thinks about it, your mother hasn't had her nails done in weeks since your family's as poor as his.

Before he could even ask for you, your mother looked up at him with indifference in her eyes and revealed, “Y/N’s not here, but if you run downstairs and up the street I'm sure you'll be able to catch up with her and her new boyfriend.”

Coriolanus’ icy blue eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and shock. “Her new boyfriend?!” He bitterly spat out.

Your mother just rolled her eyes at the boy she thought was going to ruin your life if you continued to be up his ass all the time. There was just something about Coriolanus that unsettled her. That made her believe he was all wrong for you.

Maybe it was how possessive he was with you, as if he owned you, when you were nothing to him, but a neighbor and friend.

You weren't his girlfriend, but he paraded you around like you were. Got mad if you talked to anyone he didn't approve of. Wanted to be around you all the time.

Etc, etc, etc.

So, of course your mother encouraged you to accept Sejanus’ invitation to a dinner date. To accept his offer of picking you up for school.

When you talked to her the other day about how the Plinth boy (who was assigned to do an project with you for your Ancient History class) admitted he had a crush on you and would like to take you out; be your boyfriend, well, she all but pushed you into saying yes to the boy.

Anything to keep you away from Coriolanus Snow.

The son of General Crassus Snow.

Just the memory of her late husband's commanding officer sent chills up your mother's spine.

“Let's not beat around the bush, Coriolanus. You're not good for my daughter and have nothing to offer her, except a moldy 12th floor penthouse and some rotten food.” Your mother tipped her ashes on Coriolanus' too small shoes before continuing with, “But her new boyfriend has a lot to offer her. He's a good guy that has a heart of gold. Is heir to a fortune as well.” Your mother slammed the door shut in your best friend's face; leaving him to stand in the hallway stewing in his newfound anger and jealousy.

He was going to find out who your boyfriend was and then he was going to kill the asshole who even dared take what was his.

Fuck!

Everyone knew that you belonged to him. Who in their right mind would be stupid enough to ask you out?

Coriolanus found out who was stupid enough to ask you out whenever lunchtime came around. Unfortunately for him, you didn't have any morning classes together. That sucked, but he was looking forward to lunch so that he could ask you about what your mother told him this morning.

Whenever he walked into the cafeteria he saw you sitting at your regular table with that pathetic district dog Sejanus by your side. Why were you sitting with him, he didn't know. You knew that you're supposed to wait for him to sit with you before playing nice with the District 2 transplant.

Walking up to the table, Coriolanus set his tray down and took a seat next to you. “I went to your apartment to get you this morning, but your mom said that your boyfriend picked you up.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Coryo. I should've told you as soon as he asked me out.”

“It's alright, my little dove.” No it wasn't alright. Coriolanus was going to find out who asked you out and then rip their heart out of their chest and feed it to his neighbor’s cat, Boa Bell.

Sejanus had a stupid grin on his face as he looked at you. Wait, why was he looking at you?

Coriolanus’ baby blues looked between you and the Plinths heir, only to feel his chest begin to tighten.

No!

God no!

Please!

No, no, no!

Anybody, but Sejanus. Anynody but him.

Not him and you…

No…

But Coriolanus' pleas to a higher power went on death ears as you looked between the curly haired blonde and the warm hearted brunette while announcing, “Sejanus is my boyfriend now. We've been working on a project for Ancient History together and, well, he's taking me to dinner tonight.”

“Oh. That's nice.” Coriolanus said in a tone that was dripping with fake kindness. In reality he wanted to bash Sejanus' head in with his tray for tricking you into going out with him.

How dare he seduce you while working on a class project. You were such an innocent little dove. You could easily be corrupted and needed protecting from men that has ill intentions towards you.

Coriolanus always thought that he was doing a good job protecting you, but it turns out that he failed. You were no longer his and his alone.

Now he was expected to share you with Sejanus Plinth, that boy from District 2 whose Pa’s blood money bought his way into the Capitol. Oh, like hell that was happening.

Coriolanus Snow did not share anything.

At all.

And he wasn't going to share you.

He didn't know how, but he was going to get you back.

Feeling the need to lash out, Coriolanus excused himself from the table. Of course, you told him you'd wait for him to get back. Sejanus didn't say a word to him, just asked you if you wanted his cookie because he didn't feel like it.

How sickening, he was using food to win you over.

Coriolanus didn't stay and watch you accept the cookie. Instead he went to the nearest restroom, locked himself in a stall, and nearly pulled his hair out while letting out frustrated screams. He angrily cried at the thought of losing you.

He couldn't lose you.

You were his and he needed you.

Damnit, he needed to find a way to break you and Sejanus up.

Maybe he should just make the district 2 scumbag disappear. That would solve all his problems. Then he'd be able to get his little dove back.

And once he has you back, he'll clip your wings so you'll never be able to fly away again.

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