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chlorinecake · 4 months

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𓂃 watercolor eyes | park wonbin oneshot

⚡︎ pairing: Stoner!Wonbin x Female!Reader | ⚡︎ word count: 7.8k | ⚡︎ genre: mutual pining, college au, smut (⚠︎) | ⚡︎ contains: awkward relationships, an original character + sungchan and shotaro, swearing, drug use/distribution, angst (?), mild dacryphilia, sexual tension mixed with fluff, kissing, unprotected sex while buzzed, heavy petting, oral (m. r)

ON TOP OF countless other obligations in your life, upcoming exams were kicking your anxiety's ass with the biggest fucking boots imaginable.

All you wanted was to take the edge off, and at this point, you didn’t care what it’d take to do that.

Introducing Exhibit A: Your closest friend and roommate, Roxanne, who so conveniently happened to be a junkie.

You brought up your need for a “quick fix” (so to speak) while studying in your dorm together one afternoon. Though, she offered to get you some help from another friend of hers who you’d never met before.

“Wait, you want me to go with you?” You asked in confusion, already prepared to reject Roxanne’s proposal at the idea of personally consulting her drug dealer.

“Yes, you're coming with me… What do you think this is, Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

“No, but… I-"

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out, ____,” she chuckled, turning the steering wheel as she trailed down a shadowy lane.

“No, I… I want this… I need this even, it’s just that…I don’t really know what to expect…”

“Then don’t expect anything,” she answered, giving you an encouraging smile that came off as more condescending, “Expectations are for pussies anyways.”

“Roxanne, I’ve never even met this guy before,” you pressed, hoping that she’d maybe let you sit outside in the car instead of actually speaking with him.

“Look, I’m close with my dealer, and as I always say, a friend of mine is a friend of yours.”

Cue your internal sigh of submission.

“Okay,” you said, straightening your posture in your seat with a feigned confidence.

“Uhhhh, are you sure with that ‘okay,’ or is it more like an ‘okay, I have more questions’ type of ‘okay’?”

“No,” you clarified, “it means what I said… I’m okay.”

“Okay,” she nodded, before giving you a brief synopsis about this friend of hers: STEM major, weed connoisseur, and art-hoe with a shy guy undercut.

Doesn’t sound anywhere near as daunting as the drug dealers on TV shows appear to be, right?

She pulled up to one of the apartment complexes a few miles from your university. It was one of the lower quality establishments, with the only oddity being how nice the vehicles parked outside the apartment divisions were, a sleek black motorcycle belonging to none other than the mysterious drug smuggler named Wonbin Park.

“Hey, take off your hood, silly, it’s rude,” Roxanne nudged, locking her car from the keys in her pocket more times than necessary.

“But… what if someone sees us?,” you whispered, walking closely beside her.

“Then I’m glad their eyes are working? Hell, I don’t fucking know what they’d want me to tell ‘em,” she shrugged, walking up to the front door.

“So are you acting like a nonchalant loser on purpose, or is this just your way of trying to calm me down?”

Roxanne laughed hysterically at your words, showcasing the sparkly pink gem decorating her upper canine teeth as she patted you on the back.

“We’re just here for weed, babe. That will help calm you down before I can.”

You had almost missed the part where she knocked as you got lost in your head, the front door suddenly opening and basking you both with a sudden warmth, contrasting with the cold evening weather.

“Roxie?,” asked the male from the doorstep that you fought with every bone in your body to avoid making eye contact with.

“Wonie?” Your friend mocked goofily, walking up to hug the boy briefly before grabbing your hand and pulling you inside, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a friend.”

“Not at all, my place is always open to you and your girlfriends,” he chirped with forced yet gentle enthusiasm.

“Uhhhh, she’s just a friend, considering how we’ve only slept together while clothed before… but thanks anyway!”

“Any time,” he replied confidently, walking up to the sink that was conveniently in his living room before re-lighting the dead bud of the joint he held gracefully between his plump lips, ashes falling from the tip before he inhaled a thick huff.

Some of the ash fell on his lower abdomen, and you were just now realizing that he didn’t have a shirt on.

Good thing you were used to the smell of pot by now, thanks to Roxanne’s inevitable habit of greening out every Friday night.

“So, what brings you ladies in today? I’d hate to break it to you, but I used my last condom just a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, we’re actually here for a different kind of pipe this time,” Roxanne answered, blinking as if trying to communicate with him to ditch the wild language.

“Oh,” he said, doe eyes widening as his mouth hung a little, his bunny teeth shining right back at you.

Stop staring at his mouth.

Stop staring at his mouth-

“I uh… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything,” he smiled softly, and of course you noticed because that’s where your eyes were glued the entire time, so distracted that it startled you when he reached to shake your hand.

“I’m Wonbin, but… you can call me anything you like, really.”

“It’s alright,” you returned, finally coming back to the present, “I’m ____.”

His initially confident demeanor stemmed from his assumption that you were more flamboyant like Roxanne, but he made note to be less vulgar until he could tell you warmed up to him.

Until he properly warmed up to you.

“So uh, yeah, do you want the usual, or were you thinking to try something new?” Wonbin asked casually as he leaned on the back of the sofa.

“Hmm,” Roxie hummed in thought, “yeah, my usual’s good. Just lay off the stronger stuff in the mix, though. It’s her first time.”

Something about what she said made Wonbin smile, wide and excited, peeking at you through his shaggy bangs with zero intent of hiding it.

Was he… flirting with you?

“Well, it’s my pleasure to be your first then,” he winked, getting up from the couch and heading to another room on his flat.

“You two kittens just wait here and I’ll be back with your stuff in a minute,” he claimed, which actually ended up being around an 8 minute wait while you and Roxanne went on and on about something you can’t even remember now.

The smile evaporated from Roxanne’s face as Wonbin returned to the living room while reciting the order. “You’ve got two ounces of-”

“I know the recipe, moron. You might scare my friend away if you say it out loud…,” she joked, feigning a pout as she hugged your shoulder, “so how much do you want for it, candy man?”

“It’s on the house this time,” Wonbin said, “so long as you bring me dinner tonight.”

“Fucking fat ass,” she spat, “what’re you craving?”

“Something warm,” he replied almost immediately, “with seasoned meat and a sauce… Maybe some rice, too.”

“Gotcha,” Roxie chirped as she pushed off of her knees to stand up.

Wonbin walked up to hand her the goody bag with such politeness, almost in the way that a child would give something to his big sister.

“Cool. I like eating around 7 o’clock, so you know when and where to find me.”

“Yes, through your stomach and all the way up to your greedy little heart.”

“Mhm,” he said with a satisfied hum, taking Roxanne’s spot on the couch as she walked towards the door. You and Wonbin were now sitting next to each other, his arms spread out on the back of the couch in a relaxed manner.

“Uhm, ____?”

“Oh, right! Sorry… I didn’t know we were finished,” you stammered, getting up from the couch to meet Roxanne at the door.

“Yeah, took him long enough,” she rolled her eyes, “I was starting to think he wanted us to spend the night…”

“Alright, get out of my apartment already,” he said playfully, waving a hand as if shooing you two, “and make sure to secure the bottom lock for me, I don’t feel like getting back up yet.”

“Whatever.”

Slam.

The door was closed, 50% locked, and you two were heading back down the staircase, cold air greeting you once again before you both got back in the car, driving back to your dorm room to drop off the drugs first, and then to the grocery store…

… to buy a bag of rice and a fresh pack of chicken.

“WHAT’S THAT NOISE?,” Roxanne asked with animatedly furrowed eyebrows, holding the grocery bag you two had packed Wonbin’s “dinner” in.

You ended up making a chicken roast with carrots, potatoes, gravy, and steamed rice like he asked.

“Here, hold this,” Roxanne mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear before she dropped the bag, your reflects luckily kicking in fast enough for you to catch it before the glass container could hit the concrete stair well.

“It’s as cold as a snowman’s grave out here, Wonie, open up!,” She yelled while banging on the front door, the little dream catcher that hung on the inner side jingling with her forceful hits, “Hellooooo?”

“You’re like Doordash but with the temper of FedEx,” you heard a deep voice say from behind the walls.

“But I only charge herbal fees for my services,” she added while crossing her arms.

Creek.

The door slung open, Wonbin’s muscular arms framing the entrance with a fed up look plastered on his face.

There were two people sitting behind him on the couch playing video games. A violent game, you’d assume, given the sporadic and sharp flashes of light that filled the room.

“Is there some kind of a secret password now or something?,” Roxanne asked impatiently, not as entertained my the view of Wonbin’s still shirtless body like you were.

“Oh, right… come on in ladies,” he said with a feigned smile, extending a hand to welcome you two back in, “hope you brought enough food, because I have guests.”

You followed Roxanne and Wonbin to the kitchen, where you placed the steaming bag of food on the counter before taking out the containers. That’s when Roxanne started grabbing dishes from the cabinet.

The glass plates clinked behind you as you went to search for a serving spoon in the drawer. “Hey… where are the spoons and forks?,” you asked while still looking through one of his kitchen drawers before Wonbin suddenly tapped you on the shoulder.

“I uhm… I keep the utensils in here,” he smiled shyly, just as he reached for the overhead counter to grab the silverware he kept in a box. Your breath got caught in your chest as you felt his hips nearly fuse with yours in the moment. Luckily, he couldn’t see how flustered you appeared underneath his shadow.

“Gimme that,” Roxanne giggled, snatching the box from him and taking out two large ladles, one for the rice and another for the roast.

“Gosh, that smells amazing! Can you put cheese on mine, pretty please?,” you heard one of the boys ask from the couch, peeking over his shoulder with soft eyes.

“Yes, Taro, I can put some cheese on it for you… even though I think it’s weird,” Roxanne smiled.

“Ahh, thanks man. Oh- and who’s the new girl?” He went on, placing the controller down as he was no longer interested in playing.

“Just a friend in need of a good time—” Wonbin answered, which shocked you to say the least, “—so be nice, Sungchan.”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?,” The taller boy pitched in, “but does she even talk?”

The room went quiet for a moment, the only sound being Sungchan’s clicks from the remote controller before he got gunned down by a random player.

“Dammit, Shotaro! Why’d you stop playing? Now we’re tied with the other team!!”

“Too bad, so sad, bro. I’m hungry,” he chirped, getting up from the couch to help you bring the plates to everyone.

“Woah, who’s the big plate for?” Shotaro asked with widened eyes.

“Me and Sungchan,” Roxanne said with a satisfied smile, “we’re sharing.”

“Oh… you didn’t tell me you and Sungchan were on good terms now,” you said, breaking your awkward streak of silence, just now recognizing the taller boys face from Roxanne’s phone.

She always talked about Sungchan and his “big stupid dick,” as she liked calling it.

The pair stopped being cool with each other for reasons you don’t really remember anymore, but you’d take her sudden affection towards him over the violence you witnessed during one of her texting fits the other night.

“Shhh,” she giggled, meeting Sungchan on the couch before sitting on his lap, “I hope you don’t mind me feeding you in front of your little friends… unless that makes you shy,” she pouted.

All he did was open his mouth in response, savoring the taste of the first spoon she fed him.

It was a sickeningly cute sight to be honest.

“Sick and twisted,” Shotaro said as if reading your mind.

“Cry about it,” Sungchan joked between a mouth full of saucy rice, heart swelling from the way Roxanne cooed at him.

You and Wonbin were just now making it to the living room after getting some napkins for everyone. There was room left for the two of you on the couch thanks to Roxie sitting on Sungchan’s lap, but that meant you and Wonbin would be sandwiched together in the middle.

Great.

“Come on guys, take a seat,” Roxie said before taking a bite of the food, her teeth grazing the metal fork with a loud scrap.

“God, I hate when you do that,” Sungchan sighed, tickling her sides as she laughed uncontrollably.

“Stop that, asshole, before I drop this food everywhere!”

“That’d be a shame, this chicken is so good,” Wonbin hummed with a nod, stuffing his cheeks with more of the gravy.

“____ made it,” Roxie pitched, giving you a look.

Despite how hard you tried to fight it, you were started to feel pretty awkward.

You knew it had a lot to do with Wonbin, thanks to his cripplingly annoying quirk to not put a damn shirt on.

You did eventually warm up to everyone, even pitching in on some of Sungchan’s dad jokes.

Though, the stack of empty dishes in the center of the living room table seemed more alive than your spirits right now.

The inevitable tiredness that came with staying up late without a phone in your hand started to kick in.

“Hey, I’m gonna go wash up these dishes real quick,” Wonbin said, glancing your way for reasons you almost couldn’t process between the loud laughter of Shotaro and Roxie over whatever dirty joke Sungchan told about SpongeBob and Patrick.

Did he want you to come with him? Alone?

Yes.

By now, Wonbin was no longer in the living room, having walked to the kitchen sink where he proceeded to run soapy dish water.

The scent of lemon wafted through the dimly lit space as you stepped beside him to get the dish towel.

“Sorry,” you said nervously, noticing the way he jumped as your hand grazed his arm slightly.

“It’s alright, you just surprised me,” Wonbin smiled, drying his hands before walking over to the other side of the counter, opening a plastic bag filled with what appeared to be blunt wraps and another bag filled with fluffy green.

“You just leave that stuff out on your counter?,” You asked, voice kind of quiet over the running water.

“Mhm…,” he started, “it’s not like the cops are just gonna raid my house randomly… unless… you were to say something,” he winked, putting a filler along the inside of the wrap before sprinkling in some herb, then tucking it tightly.

“Your secrets safe with me,” you said, the faucet squeaking as you turned the water off.

“____.”

“Yes?” You asked in confusion almost… he was already starting to use your name so normally.

“Pass me that lighter from over there,” he pointed before sticking his tongue out, licking the inner side on the blunt wrap to seal it.

His pretty tongue glistened underneath the kitchen lights, captivating you once again.

Fuck, stop staring, you internally swore at yourself.

He put the blunt between his lips, waiting for you to light the tip. “Stop moving, silly,” you giggled, holding his face in place with your other hand to keep him still as he playfully moved his head around to give you a hard time.

A tiny giggle erupted from his throat, too, making your smile linger for a little longer before he bid his thanks, inhaling a huff of the smoke and exhaling it through his nose.

“Hmmm,” he hummed as he cleared his throat. By now you were leaning against the sink with no intention of washing the dishes any time soon. No intention of leaving the kitchen, either.

“C’mere,” he offered, reaching for your chin in the same way you did to him earlier before inching closer to your face.

“Wonbin-”

“Just part your lips for me, okay?” He asked in a light voice, “I want you to try it with me.”

You nodded at his words, hesitantly parting your lips as he slowly set the blunt between the opening you allowed for him.

“Okay now seal your lips,” he said, licking his own, “and inhale… slowly.”

You obeyed his words, taking a steady breath in as the warm and cloudy smoke filled your mouth… then your stomach… then your senses.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, coughing at the way the smoke hit the back of your throat, to which Wonbin only laughed at your reaction.

“Good job, newbie,” he teased, running you a glass of water before passing it to you, your teary eyes staring back at him in a mix of embarrassment, regret, and intrigue.

“How was hitting it,” he asked, pearly eyes staring back at you.

“Just as bad as I thought,” you admitted.

“Yeah… they effects will start kicking in pretty fast, too,” he chuckled, proceeding to take a huff from the same blunt. “But,” he started, voice falling to an alto, “you know that wasn’t free, right?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, watching as he lazily cradled the joint in his two fingers.

“I only do favors for Roxie because we’re chill like that…,” he paused, biting his lip derisively as he tilted his head, “I hardly know you, though.”

You didn’t even bother checking your pockets because you knew you came empty handed.

“Aww, what is it, baby?,” he cooed, turning your chin to face him again as he took another huff from the joint.

“I didn’t bring any cash with me, unfortunately,” you replied with a halfhearted expression, already feeling yourself get dizzy.

He noticed the way you began to tear up even more from the smoke he was now gently blowing in your face.

“You’re eyes look pretty right now,” he smiled, staring way harder than he should’ve, “how do you feel?”

All of a sudden your core starting to heat up, making your legs feel as though you were merely hovering over the floor. You didn’t feel grounded anymore because you were overcome with a feeling of light.

“A little warm,” you started dryly, “but like… numb and euphoric at the same time.”

“In here?” He asked, placing a hand on your upper stomach, resting dangerously close to your tits.

“No…. It’s uh… a bit lower,” you said, reaching for his wrist before pulling his hand away from you.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of a colorful splash decorating his wrist. “That’s pretty,” you smiled, adoring the tattoo from afar.

“You think so?” He asked sarcastically before whispering in your ear, “too bad compliments won’t pay my bills.”

You sighed at his words, watching as he braced his body weight on the counter before your right hand found a mind of it’s own, reaching out to trace a line up his defined abdomen.

“Then allow me to repay you in another way,” you offered, poking his flesh with your nail a bit, “you like my cooking, don’t you?”

“Very much so, yes. But you could try pleasing me somewhere else… ‘A bit lower,’ like you said,” he whispered seductively, eyes in a daze as he guided your hand by your delicate wrist to the center of his belt buckle, a line of hair leading to the bulge buried behind his baggy jeans.

A thick vein trailed from his thumb to his forearm before his grip left your wrist.

“Wanna take a closer look?” He offered, drawing your attention back to the colorful spot on his skin even though your first mind thought he was talking about something naughtier.

“Sure,” you answered quietly, taking his hand again to examine the design, “a butterfly?”

“A moth, actually… it’s a little more masculine if you ask me,” he added, the shadow of a proud smile ghosting over his lips.

“But it has watercolored eyes,” you pointed out.

“True… So it’s like.. more ambiguous I guess?”

“Maybe… or it could just be a beautiful man,” you voiced, stroking over his skin with the pad of your thumb.

You liked this.

The look of his skin, but more so the way it felt.

The way touching him made you feel.

“Uhmmmm, guys?,” Shotaro cried out from the living room, the energy in his voice breaking the stillness of the moment, “I’m pretty sure Sungchan and Roxie are about to start fucking each other in a few seconds, and I could use a little help in here!”

You and Wonbin made eye contact at Shotaro’s words, the same thought filling both your heads:

“What?”

“Just get in here, quickly! They’re taking each others clothes off!!!”

“FUCK, MY STOMACH still hurts like a bitch from laughing so hard yesterday night,” Roxie sighed, cheeks a flushed hue either from the three shots of brandy she just guzzled or the three comforters she was wrapped in on her side of your shared room.

“Yeah… I had a great time hanging out with everyone,” you said, only half-present as other thoughts floated around in your mind.

Thoughts about when you would get to see Wonbin again?

What you two would even do?

How Roxanne would react if she knew Wonbin had been stuck in your mind like gum on a-

“What the hell are you thinking about?”

Oh shit.

“Uhm… Nothing, why?”

“It’s gotta be something,” Roxie pressed, staring at you from across the room through her false eyelashes, “you were moaning in your sleep last night with that same look on your face.”

Wow. She was quite a fast talker for someone so tipsy.

“I was?”

“Mhm,” she smirked cheekily, trailing a finger along the knitted seam of her bed sheet.

“Tell me who you were thinking about… I’ll know if you’re lying, too,” she pressed.

“I was just… gosh, why is that making me so flustered,” you sighed, hiding your face in your pillows.

“C’mon, spit it out, ____!”

“I was thinking about Wonie, okay?,” you finally admitted, hoping it would make her shut up.

“Hmm…,” she started with a satisfied smirk, “you’ve already starting calling him by a nickname, I see… what’s up with that?”

“Nothing at all,” you smiled aggressively, watching as she spread herself out on the mattress like a star fish, “would you like me to call Sungchan over to keep you company while I’m out?”

“He’s already on his way over, silly,” she smiled, flexing her fingers around nothing, “wait, where are you going, anyway?”

“Nowhere special… probably just gonna talk a walk around campus. But don’t worry, I’ll wait for your boyfriend to get here before I leave.”

She pouted at your words, lower lip poking out like a baby, “Aww… stupid… big dick Sungie’s my boyfriend… ehehe…”

SUNGCHAN SHOWED UP shortly after you managed to get Roxanne back to bed. Praying that they wouldn’t end up fucking in your bedroom while you were gone, you put on a jacket with hopes of taking that walk to clear your head, even though now you simply hit a joint to calm your nerves.

That’s when you heard a pair of footsteps approaching from outside your door, just as you were about to zip up your winter boots.

Knock, knock, knock.

A a warm feeling erupted in your stomach, making your fingers freeze at your ankles.

Standing up to peek through the door-hole, you saw Wonbin’s plump lips first, before his bright brown eyes stared back at you.

Shit, why was he here?

“Hey, I can hear you breathing from behind the door… well, whoever you are,” he giggled, which made you giggle a bit too.

There’s no way you were gonna get out of this now, but you still counted down from ten before opening the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, letting him in, “don’t know how you got on campus, let alone to my dorm room, but okay.”

“I’m friends with Roxie, remember?”

“Yes, but I don’t remember you visiting here before… like, ever.”

Even if he had, it’s not like you’d be able to forget a face or presence like his.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” you teased, poking him in the stomach to which he smiled.

That terribly cute smile of his.

“Yeah I uh… wear them sometimes,” he replied, adjusting the beanie he wore before speaking again, “Where is she, anyway?”

“Pretending to be asleep so I can cuddle with her while she sucks on me… well… not there but… nevermind,” Sungchan interupted, walking from the room with now disheveled hair.

“Hell, I left for like three seconds, what happened,” you asked, observing the fresh purple bruise on Sungchan’s neck.

“Roxie gets unbelievably horny whenever she’s drunk for some reason, and I refuse to do anything with her when half of her mind is on fucking mars,” he sighed, going to the fridge and pulling out a can of soda.

“She’s lucky I let her do this much… Wait- I thought you said you weren’t coming?” Sungchan said to Wonbin with a suspicious look.

So Wonbin was invited to your place. How fun.

“Ahh, I changed my mind out of boredom...”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded while walking to the front door, “I’ve gotta go get a lighter from my truck, but I’ll be back if Roxie asks for me.��

“Hey uh, me and ____ can go get it for you if you want,” Wonbin offered, flashing you a look.

“Really, I mean I parked pretty far away, but-”

“It’s fine, really, I saw where your truck on my way here.“

“____?” Sungchan said your name as if searching for your approval, to which you nodded which a humble, “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Alright then, go ahead. But take your time though so you don’t slip and break your asses…”

WONBIN LOOKED IN the roof compartment of Sungchan’s truck, just as the lighter fell down, slipping between the small crack in the seat.

“Shit,” he cursed upon trying to reach for it, “my hands too big to get it.”

“Hey, I can try getting it for you,” you offered, watching as he made room for you to take his place in the vehicle.

The drawstring of your underwear clinging to your hips as your shirt fell down your waist with gravity.

“Are you wearing a thong?” Wonbin asked, cold index finger hooking with the thin strap of your panties before pulling back and releasing it with a snap.

“Ahh, what the hell, Won!,” You yelped, retreating from the seat to swat his hands from you, “you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“No, we’re supposed to be helping Sungchan. Now get back to work,” he order you playfully, pointing back down to where the lighter fell.

You shook your head, bending back over in an attempt to retrieve the lighter once again.

He was only teasing you because he wanted to see more of your personality.

He couldn’t say that things were moving fast between you thanks to the inevitably awkward grounds your first impression of each other was cultivated upon, but he still wanted to get past the shy stage.

Skip all of the a baby steps and just start running with you.

Weakened grunts fell from your lips as you desperately fished for the lighter, your hips looking a mere second from bursting through your tight jeans given the position you were in.

“Shit,” Wonbin cursed under his breath, feeling a sense of warmth grow on his cheeks as he darted his eyes away from you.

“Oh,” you said with a muffled sounding voice.

“Um, y-yeah? What’s up?” He stuttered, still looking off into the distance.

“I’ve got the lighter… And some spare change,” you chirped, clasping the findings in your hand before reaching a foot down cautiously.

“Isn’t that stealing?” Wonbin teased, finally looking back to only see your foot slipping on the wet condensation from the truck’s running board.

“____, watch your step!” He called out with a slightly raised voice, his hands finding your waist to protect your fall, which only led to you both tumbling down together.

A strained groan erupted from Wonbin’s throat as his back hit the cold hard ground first, your body weight falling onto his center as your hands hit the gravel, slightly scuffing your skin.

You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed the entire time until you finally opened them, the coins you held being scattered about as Wonbin’s wide bunny eyes scanned you with shock.

His arms framed his head, nose a little red from the weather and a sprinkle of snowflakes dusting his black beanie.

“Are you…are you okay?,” he started, voice trailing off as it finally clicked in his mind that you were straddling him on the ground, essentially in public.

He couldn’t pin a finger on what it was about you that made him feel all shy like this, especially whenever he wasn’t buzzed.

“I-I’m… uh… I’m fine,” you stuttered, freeing him of your body weight and extending a hand to help him up.

“Thank you,” he huffed, a puff of cold air escaping his mouth before circling around your warm bodies, “I told you to watch your step….”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that those stupid coins distracted me,” you shivered, just now feeling the effects of the weather as goosebumps sprouted on your skin, “At least I got the lighter, though!”

Wonbin chuckled, both at your enthusiastic words and the uncanniness of this moment, taking off his beanie and adjusting it over your head before closing the door to Sungchan’s truck, pulling you close to him by the shoulder.

“Alright… let’s get back inside before we both freeze to death.”

AFTER GOING BACK inside, Sungchan had somehow managed to get Roxie out of bed, the four of you sitting on the couch while watching a random movie till midnight.

It all brought you a strange sense of déjà vu. You and Wonbin sitting awkwardly together while Roxie and her Sungchan sat like Siamese twins. The only thing missing, aside from some good home cooked food, was Shotaro’s infectious smile and a recreational drug in your system.

A soul booster.

You had gotten lost in your thoughts again, not even realizing when Roxie kissed Sungchan goodnight before he headed home.

Nor when Wonbin pretended to be sleep so no one would wake him as you slept peacefully on his shoulder.

Nor how he left your side once Roxie went to her room to sleep, reaching for the dust-ridden acoustic guitar hiding in a corner of your loft after a long forgotten ex-roommate left it behind as a “farewell” gift.

Nor the warm and woody melody he started to play from the other end of the couch, the gentle hums from his throat luring your busy mind from its slumber.

Your eyes opened with lazy blinks, vision slowly keening in on the lit joint that hung from his mouth, the sound of his fingers sliding against the fretboard and strings sending shivers down your spine.

Or maybe that had more to do with the winter air thrumming through your dorm room's cheap windows.

From the look outside, you’d guess it was sometime around 1am.

The stars were sparkling in the sky and the world beneath almost dead quiet.

“Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Wonbin said in a half-whisper, noticing the way you were glancing at him before taking the blunt from his mouth.

“Oh, no… it’s okay, I was just… I didn’t mind…” your words trailed off to a mumble as you sat up a little straighter on the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “What song was that? It sounded really pretty from what I heard.”

“Yesterday… by the Beatles,” he smiled, getting up to set the guitar back in its original place of abandonment, “it would’ve sounded even better though if I had a pick with me.”

He took another huff from the blunt, exhaling through his nose in a familiar manner as he offered it to you, “Want some?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking the blunt from his hand before inhaling the herb yourself, though, it was slightly different from the one you had in Wonbin’s kitchen the other night.

“It’s some of Sungchan’s pot,” he said in a husk voice as if reading your mind, “Don’t go too crazy though, ‘cause his shit’s pretty strong.”

He peeked at you through his wavy bangs, waiting for a cough from you that never came.

“Are you buzzed yet?” You asked after taking another huff or two yourself, playing with the smoke in your mouth before blowing it out slowly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “don’t know how I managed to play a full song, but... yeah... I'm trashed.”

“It must be a talent, I guess,” you hummed at his words, just now noticing the lit candles sitting at random areas in the kitchen and living room.

Good thing, because it helped to drown out the scent of marijuana.

“What else are you good at doing while high?”

His tongue clicked at the roof of his mouth as a subtle yet unmistakable smirk creeped on his face, perfectly matching the rosy hue that began to stain his cheeks.

“You thought of something dirty, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” he chuckled, widening the distance between his legs a bit as he sat.

Was he… teasing you?

Your eyes fell down to the blunt he placed on the ashtray beside the table, it’s lit bud ceasing with a quiet hiss.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t free either, huh?” You joked, shaking your head at yesterday's memory.

“Nope,” he smiled, “but… you still haven’t returned the favor from your first hit, so I won’t be too mean for now.”

Of course he’d bring that up again.

Right here, right now as you sat mere inches in distance from each other, both buzzed out of your minds.

“And if you were to be mean,” you started hesitantly, biting your lower lip before continuing, “what would that look like?”

He thought on your words carefully before answering, “Well, I doubt it’ll ever come to that anyway, so don't worry about it.”

“Oh, and is it the weed making you confident all of a sudden?”

“No, just the simple fact that you’ll pretty much do anything I tell you to.”

You scoffed, “That’s crazy talk.”

“Is it?“ he pressed, inching closer to you. "Kiss me,” he said, lips just a gentle wind's push from touching yours.

You didn’t budge, but your heart beat escalated all the same.

“Cute,” he smirked, his large hand finding the length of your neck, gliding up to your jawline as his thumb toyed with your lower lip. “I can see it all over your face that you want me, ____.”

“Then why are you asking for it?,” you teased.

“Because I wanted to hear you say it first… even though I already knew you’d let me do this,” he whispered, closing the space between you with a kiss, his warm mouth engulfing yours as the scent of his woody cologne filled your senses.

His other hand found your lower back, pulling you impossibly close to him as the sound of both your hearts beating and his needy grunts consumed you.

Much like the watercolor moth on his wrist, Wonbin’s gentle and vibrant masculinity couldn’t get any more precious in this moment.

This is exactly what he was looking forward to, whether he decided to guise it under the façade of a favor or be completely straight up with you, he finally got you right where you wanted.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you tugged a bit, desperate to hear more of his pretty sounds before the shadow of a smile wavered over Wonbin’s face at your actions, up until he felt your knee bump his hard-on through his pants, causing him to hiss.

“You’re being rough with me,” he said in between kissing your mouth, his hot and thick tongue darting past your lips as the kiss become messier.

Louder.

“And?” You asked, pulling away from his lips before leaving a trail of wetness down his neck, paying extra attention to a spot that made him twitch in his seat.

“And it’s so fucking hot,” he almost moaned when your teeth grazed his skin, his back meeting the couch arm as you subconsciously grinded your hips against his pants, straddling him.

“Is this how you wanted me earlier,” you said, stopping your movements, “when we were outside in the cold?”

By now his shirt was off and your fingers unbuckling his belt with gentle clinking sounds from the metal.

“No,” he said in an impossibly deep voice, looking dead at you as he spoke, “My first mind wanted to fuck you silly in the backseat… but I couldn’t to that to you.”

You giggled at his choice of words given how high you were, shimmying his pants down a bit further before halting at the waistband of his boxers, palming him gently through the fabric.

“Why not?” You asked in a soft voice, contrasting with the fierce grip you had on his clothed shaft.

“Because... even though you’re being an impossible tease right now, I felt like you deserved better than to be fucked in your best friends boyfriend's truck,” he said with a shaky voice, gripping at the couch to contain himself.

You appreciated his consideration in your heart, but didn’t wanna say anything out loud, especially not while your hands were on him like this.

And thank God for these thick curtains, otherwise the whole world would’ve seen how red his throbbing tip looked after finally being freed from the restrictions of his boxers.

You started at the base of his length before gliding upwards, spitting on the head that was already leaking a bit of his early release.

You started to pump him slowly, pearly white precum standing out as it mixed with your clear spit like watercolor.

“Use your mouth for me,” he almost begged, eyes falling victim to a blurry haze as his knuckles turned white with his grip on the cushions.

You teased him a bit by letting your warm breath ghost over his tip, eliciting a groan from him as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

The desperation inside of him only grew from here as your warm and wet lips finally wrapped around him.

You hollowed your cheeks a bit, hands resting at either side of his hips as you began using your tongue to help you take him inch by inch.

“Mmm, feels so fucking good, baby,” he said with a strained voice, his hands finding your head before his thumbs grazed your lips, one of them prying to squeeze itself into your mouth with his already thick cock.

The sight alone was enough to make him buss, so he threw his head back, biting his lip harshly to contain his sounds.

You hummed against his dick, almost feeling it in your chest once his hands pushed your head down further.

He just couldn’t deal with your teasing anymore, wanting to feel you more than he could begin to explain.

He bucked his hips upwards, rutting into your mouth like a bunny in heat. “Aww, fuck,” he cursed, watching the way your eyes glazed with tears.

He always managed to see you crying one way or another, and he loved it every single time.

Your fingernails dug into his sides as the sound of your gagging became hard to miss. He released your head with a sigh, panting as both of your faces burned with heat.

He didn’t expect you to start pumping him again though as soon as your mouth left his cock, but you knew he’d end up missing your warmth in seconds anyways.

“I wasn’t trying to be mean when I did that, by the way,” he sighed, biting his lip as you looked back at him with moist eyelashes, “I just couldn’t hold bac- nghhh~.”

A broken moan escaped his mouth once your hands found his balls, gently cradling them in your hands while alternating with pressures, your other hand still stroking him.

“I’m doing quite the favor for you, Wonbin,” you said with a rasp voice, your throat a bit sore from his actions on top of the smoke you huffed earlier, but he figured it made you sound hotter anyway. “Are you sure I’m not overdoing it?”

“Mmm… no, p-please don’t stop, baby,” he whimpered shamelessly, screwing his eyebrows tightly.

You felt yourself clench around nothing at the nickname, and judging from the way his face changed, you’d bet he noticed.

By now, he could hardly keep still, the muscles in his stomach flexing just as you felt his balls tighten, just as he was finished, chest heaving with need as you rode out his high.

That's when you started to take off your jeans, tossing them in the corner somewhere as he practically drooled at the sight of you in just a baggy top and panties, a dark spot forming at the center of your core where your arousal started to leak through.

“____,” he paused you, bringing you into his lap, your warm core sitting right atop his aching hardness, “you don’t have to go this far if you don’t want to.”

“Well maybe this isn’t just about me owing you anymore,” you whispered, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, “what if I want this?”

His cock stimulated you through your panties as he thought on your words, subconsciously rocking your hips back and forth.

“Then I’ll let you have your way with me…” he said with a rasp whisper, kissing up your neck as one of his hands massaged your tits, his other hand sneaking past your underwear to find your soaking wet clit, rubbing it slowly but with such a pressure that your fingers clung to his broad shoulders.

“I want you to make me feel like I’m falling apart,” he groaned against your skin, spreading your slick all over your aching pussy lips, “I want you to ruin me.”

You didn't waste any time with aligning him at your entrance, sliding down with ease most of the way given how wet you were.

He groaned as your tight walls fully consumed him.

“Fuck~,” you whined, feeling euphorically full as he started thrusting into you, hands gripping at your back as he became overstimulated inside you.

The drugs must've made you feel extra sensitive, especially with the way his tip fucked against your g-spot. You looked into his teary eyes, stoking his face as you helped to bounce with his movements, lewd sounds bouncing off of the walls.

“You’re being so fucking good for me, baby, just like that," he moaned as you clenched around him, too high to give a damn about filling you up raw with thick spurts of his cum.

“Wonie,” you whimpered, feeling as his hands roamed all over your climaxing body.

You felt every part of him in every part of you, and to say the least, it was worth all the awkward moments it took to get here.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke up with your head resting on Wonbin’s chest, his messy hair spread about his head as you felt his breath faintly on your head. You probably looked like two babies with the way you were cuddling each other under the blanket.

It was a sickeningly cute sight, one might say.

“Sick and twisted,” you heard Shotaro say in the back of your mind, just as Wonbin groaned beneath you with a cat-like yawn.

“I still feel high,” was the first thing he said, making you giggle a little more than necessary before looking him in the face, the effects of your night together ever-present on his face.

“I feel…good,” you smiled.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hummed back, peeling yourself from his body as you blinked the tiredness from your eyes.

“You can keep a secret, right?” He asked hesitantly, voice barely audible given how quietly he spoke.

“With my whole life,” you answered, now making eye contact with him which was surprisingly way easier to do than a day ago.

He found your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “We should do each other favors more often… but… maybe not call it that.”

Was he initiating a sexual relationship with you?

Maybe something more?

“Well…” you started curiously, “what would you wanna call it instead, then?”

A grin peeped on his face that quickly softened when he licked his lips, giving your hand a squeeze once again before parting his lips to speak. “Maybe-”

“Fuck,” Roxanne sighed with annoyance, “you horny ducks didn’t blow my candles out last night… now the wax is no good,” she sulked.

“Oh, s-sorry about that, Roxie, we were smoking and it helped the smell,” Wonbin answered first.

“… wait, did you just call us horny ducks?” You asked with a mix of confusion, offense, and realization.

She heard you two.

Hell, of course she did.

“What? You think I didn’t hear Wonbin and his vocal ass practically singing as you did… whatever you did to him…?,” She rambled on, washing her hands in the sink before pulling some from produce from the fridge.

“Oh my God,” Wonbin cringed at himself, covering his face with his hands, though his ears were clearly burning red now.

“The blanket… you brought it in here, didn’t you,” you asked her, just now noticing that it was one she kept at the end of her bed.

“Yep! You’re welcome, freaks,” she chirped through a mouthful of raw celery, drawing your attention to the knife and cutting board she handled, “I’m gonna need your help soon though, ____. We're cooking for a mini get-together later with Taro and Sungchan.”

You hummed at her words, folding up the blanket while thankful that despite how high you two were last night, you managed to put your clothes back on before the sun came up.

“You guys should get cleaned up first, too, by the way,” she said, side-eyeing you as she diced a few green onions. “And preferably not at the same time, please... I’ve heard enough moans for the rest of this week, thanks to you two.”

⚡︎ a/n: I just wanna say thank you to everyone who read this goofy lil piece I wrote !! It's been a while since I wrote something that wasn't requesting, and I had so much fun getting back in my creative mode again !! Hopefully you guys enjoyed it as much as I did huhu !!

📍 check out my NEW RIIZE masterlist

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#riize smut #riize x reader #wonbin smut #wonbin x reader #riize scenarios #park wonbin #jung sungchan #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize ff

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mojogojocasahouse · 4 months

Text

Just in Time Part I

Satoru Gojo x f!reader (Principal Gakuganji's daughter)

On the eve of a wedding of your father's arrangement, you call upon your reliable yet agitating old flame Satoru Gojo in an act of desperation and defiance

words: 4.7k content: infidelity (in an arranged marriage so does that even count?), smut, unprotected p in v, oral m-receiving, face fucking, rough sex, minor choking, spit kink, creampie, jealous!Gojo, protective!Gojo (moreso in part ii), minor degradation 18+ only

[9:37 pm] Are you busy?

[9:38 pm] Aw. Kamo family party not as lively as you’d hoped?

[9:38 pm] Just answer the question, Gojo.

[9:38 pm] Gojo is busy. Satoru on the other hand can be persuaded.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, scanning the room again for anyone who might be taking an interest. Of course, no one seems to even remember you’re here at all..

[9:45 pm] Yes or no

[9:45 pm] What’s in it for me?

[9:45 pm] You’re joking

[9:46 pm] With all my options, why do I choose the Kamo bride tonight? Hmm?

[9:50 pm] You’re a piece of shit.

[9:51 pm] HARSH!! You’ve convinced me. Send me the address.

[9:52 pm] Oh and tell daddy hi for me!

“Fuck you!” you hiss under your breath, sighing as you toss your phone back into the small bag you were carrying.

Your history with Satoru Gojo has always been…tumultuous. It started in high school, as the daughter of the principal of the Kyoto branch, you sought him to get back at your father, Principal Gakuganji, and he’d been more than happy to oblige for the same exact reason. Exchange events had been less about competition and more about the time stolen in dorm rooms and behind buildings, far more than goodwill being spread.

It had all come crashing down the day you turned 18.

Not that there had been an air of commitment between either of you, but whatever physically beneficial relationship that had sprung up and the hopes that it would be more frequent after graduation were wiped away with one sentence.

“You’re getting married,” your father had said, the Kamo boy from a year ahead of you smiling at his side.

That was the day you’d realized you’d been nothing but a pawn from the day you’d been born. Despite being a Jujutsu sorcerer, you’d begged to go to university, prolonging the inevitable for as long as you could. Gojo had frequented your dorm room there, too, arriving at your door with his cock already stiff, you barely made it inside before you were on your knees, pulling him into your throat.

Those years were as close as you got to happy.

The Kamo clan had taken possession of you two years ago, and while meetings with Gojo became less frequent, they also grew more hostile. Satoru Gojo wasn’t known for his kind, warm nature, and his frustration in losing his favorite toy was on full display whenever you’d been able to get away from lackluster events and days of learning customs you couldn’t care less about; you were too weak to end it entirely with him. He made you feel too good, it was a reprieve from the life you faced day in and day out. But maybe it was just a different breed of nightmare.

As things continued, you realized it wasn’t actually you that got his cock throbbing. It had always been the satisfaction of how much your father would hate Gojo being in your presence, never mind your bed. You felt the same, being with a man your father loathed above all else was just as thrilling to you. And now, on the evening of your arranged wedding, you’re standing outside a small sushi cafe in a misting rain waiting for a ride to the lavish Tokyo apartment Gojo uses for one thing only. You can’t help but wonder how many others have seen those barren walls.

Typically, he sends a taxi service, letting you know the details of the car to look out for, but it’s been twenty minutes and you’ve received no information.

[10:19 pm] You better not have fucking bailed on me.

You hate how the thought makes your cheeks burn and your chest hollow in what you try to convince yourself is anger, but you know the truth.

“Why would I bail on you!?” The sound of his voice yelling from his downed window has the muscles in your shoulders loosening. “You look ridiculous. What is that makeup?”

“Fuck you,” you spit at him, rounding the car to slide into the passenger seat, “Just go.”

“Well, aren’t you tense? What’s a‘matter? Already hating marital bliss?”

The disregard he displays about your impending doom digs under your skin. Your bladed gaze shoots over to him, you’d just noticed he was wearing his white bandages over his eyes still, the high collar of his uniform unzipped just enough to reveal the stretch of his throat you’d be decorating soon.

“Were you working?” you ask, the hour a little strange for a teacher to still be on the clock.

“Uh-huh,” he practically purrs, flicking through the songs quietly humming from the radio.

Well, that explains why he was the one that rolled up to get you. However, more dangerously you consider that he’d dropped what he was doing for you.

“Seriously, what are you wearing?” he asks again with a chuckle.

“Shut the fuck—“ your retort was cut short by a long, slender thumb pressing down on your tongue, your lips locking around the digit and sucking instinctively.

“I’m gonna tear it to shreds.” The whisper is almost menacing, and your core throbs at the husky tone and malicious intent.

When you’d texted him, you knew tonight would be different. Tomorrow you’ll be signed away. Not that it will change your arrangement, at least you had no intention for it to, but it won’t be the same. It couldn’t be. You’ll be princess to the Kamo clan, officially, and while you find pockets to escape now, soon there will be hurdles even Satoru Gojo can’t leap over.

“Did you have any trouble?” he asks as the car comes to a smooth halt at a red light, your lips pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb before he can pull it away completely and check whatever alert had just pinged his phone.

“No,” you answer, turning your attention out the window.

In fact, the lack of resistance had given you pause. When you’d told your father you wanted to head home, he hadn’t even asked why. You’d already prepped the excuse of a headache and buzzing nerves, but he’d waved you off and returned to his conversation with one of the many Jujutsu society higher-ups in attendance. You hadn’t even bothered to check in with the man you were set to marry in just over twelve hours. Instead, you took the easy way out and ran.

The apartment is pitch black when you arrive, Gojo forgetting to turn the lights on as he throws his things onto the kitchen counter and heads straight to his fridge, grabbing a glass bottle of soda and sending the metal top skipping across the floor. Your eyes can’t help but try and follow it, even in the dark, the thud of Gojo’s hands slamming against the door behind you echoing in each of your ears. He’s centimeters away, his sweet strawberry breath huffing out against your lips, and your lungs seize up, your chest shaking with traitorous little gasps. It’s been almost ten years of this, and still, he leaves you quivering.

“I know what you wanna do.” His voice is smoother than melted chocolate, sweet and rich.

“You don’t know shit.” Maintaining this ruse is futile when your voice is trembling, but you try anyway.

“Oh? I think I know you best of all.”

He’s right, and the fact that he knows that has your stomach knotting. As he flashes that cocky, toothy grin there’s no helping the relief that floods through your body. The night had been tense, you’d been nothing but a stranger in a strange land, sat down and expected to abide by customs and etiquette that made you sick. It was a hierarchy, and you were the very bottom rung of the ladder, only there to push the others around you up higher towards their goals.

“You called me, remember?” he croons, backing away enough to have your body following his on pure instinct, “So come and take what you want. I’m all yours.”

For one last night. The leather of his belt is smooth as you grip it with one hand, yanking him back into you. He has a significant height advantage, but when you seek his lips he’s already curled himself down, the kiss you find solace in waiting for you. It’s sugary and warm, the soft cloth of his eye-covering pressing against your forehead as his palms swallow your sides whole, he’s learned the intricacies of your preferences in ways no one else ever would. He knows to tease you until your fingers thread through his hair, a gentle tug the welcome invitation to swipe his tongue along your swelling lower lip, but he’s also well aware you won’t take that step, but it’s one he’s always happy to leap into.

Snowy, white strands fall over the back of your hand as the bandages around his eyes loosen and drape over your noses, your nails still raking through the buzzed hair of his undercut and you know if you dared open your eyes, the infinite blue that the sky itself envied would greet you. Both your fingers and his work to pull the troublesome fabric free, his succeeding before threading with yours and pinning your hand above your head, the fraying edges of the cloth dancing against your hair as his pace picks up.

Every inch of your body burns, the tight material of your assigned outfit suffocating and the room growing seemingly smaller around the broad shoulders in front of you. All you can smell is him as you search for the zipper of his jacket with your free hand, pulling it open and making quick work of the buttons of his overpriced shirt. His skin is smooth and cool to the touch, the peaks and valleys of his defined torso solid beneath your brushing fingertips. It takes all your concentration to keep up with him, he’s almost frantic, pushing you further and further into the wood behind you as his chest heaves until suddenly he pulls away.

You’re left cold and buzzing in anticipation, his predatory gaze burning through you from where he stands just out of reach.

“I want that off,” he mutters, low and menacing, his teeth gnashed together, and you know he isn’t talking about your clothes.

He’s faster than you are, his pointer finger and thumb gripping the gold ring on your left hand and tugging, the ping of the metal skittering across the floor after his haphazard toss in sync with the speed at which he claims your mouth once again. You knew he could feel it catching in his hair and grazing over his chest. Typically, you remembered to take it off prior to even stepping foot in his building, but today the surprise of Gojo himself pulling up to get you had sent everything out of whack.

“Satoru,” you sigh, his appreciative groan from hearing his given name falling from your lips hitting where he was currently mouthing at your throat, “Satoru…”

You sound pathetic and you can't care less, he’s eating your blatant need for him out of the palm of your hand. He always does, and you wonder if he’s like this with everyone else who gets to see these walls.

When your hand shoots to his belt, undoing the buckle and finding the button and zipper that’s keeping him contained you can feel the stretch of his smile against your neck.

“I win,” he croons, tugging his arms free of his sleeves as you push his pants and boxers down to his ankles.

“I volunteer,” you correct as you sink to your knees, his finger keeping your chin in place and eyes on him as you drop down.

Satoru usually won this little tradition, his hand diving between your legs first and claiming himself the “loser” as he spread your thighs wide and worked you on his tongue until he’d had his fill. Tonight, however, belonged to you, his cock thick and long as you ran your tongue along the underside, greedily collecting the small pearls that had already begun to leak from the tip.

“Lookit me,” he slurs, mouth already hanging open as you keep his flushed head sitting on your tongue, “Good girl.”

His thumb rubs reverent circles on your jaw as he spits along his ridge, your mouth immediately locking around him and sucking him clean. With each bob of your head you take him a little deeper, your lips loudly suctioning around him as his head falls back in bliss and his shoulders drop from their tensed state. He sighs in relief, his thighs flexing beneath your hands when your throat constricts around the intrusion, your hair quickly knotting in his grip as he takes two steps forward, pinning you against the door.

“Come on, princess,” he urges, pinching your chin, “don’t be a tease. Gag it down. All of it.”

It’s times like these when you remember the man towering above you is just a few criteria short of being a monster. Spoiled rotten and all-powerful—there is nothing the world could offer that was out of his reach. His confidence is otherworldly and earned, there is no task he isn’t proficient in, and in turn, you’ve always worked hard to stand toe-to-toe with him in all things. Even this.

A wicked grin stretches across his face as he watches your expression morph into one of ire and determination, he knows how to push every button and pluck every string and he’s well aware of it. With your head firmly in his grasp, his hips start to move, his cock sliding over your tongue like silk as you try to force back the urge to wretch it out. Your eyes burn, tears sliding down your cheeks and mingling with the drool coating the lower half of your face, and he doesn’t relent, nor do you ask him to.

“There we go,” he praises, yet your nose still hasn’t touched the thin patch of white curls that’s still an inch away, “Fixed that hideous makeup.”

He can tell that you need air, and he pulls himself free while still keeping you pinned by the hair, a string of spit connecting your gasping, swollen lips to the shining tip of his dick. He’s chuckling to himself at your haggard state, your lungs burning as they pull in the air that tastes like him. He bends, forcing himself to your eye level, his free hand thumbing at your gaping mouth.

“You’re such a whore,” he whispers, and it sounds like a compliment in his tooth-rotting, sweet tone, and he spits once again straight onto your tongue.

“Prick…” you cough after swallowing down what he’d left, his high-pitched giggle echoing in the room as he stands back to his full height.

“Well, you don’t come here cause I’m nice to you. Do you? Open up.”

Your response is a swift obeying of his command.

“You like this kind of attention,” his tone is lower now.

Once again, you have to resign to the fact that he’s right. There’s no warning now, no preparation, just his cock slamming into your throat, and your eyes snap shut as you breathe through your nose. He reaches down to feel the bulging of his thrusts, being careful to not pinch off whatever airflow you may have just yet, his hum of approval shooting straight to your throbbing core.

“And only I give it to you,” he finishes, your tongue laving out against his sack drawing out a whine, “Stay still.”

He knows exactly what you can take, moving his hips at a speed he knows won’t be too much and stopping when your mewling turns frantic, kissing your lips as you suck in air before returning to fucking your throat hard enough the door rattles on its hinges. You want to reach between your legs to relieve the ache that’s becoming unbearable, but you know he’ll scold you, prolonging any relief indefinitely.

“And what would daddy think of you now?” he snarls, pulling out and smacking the side of your face with his cock, “When are you gonna stop letting that old man run your life?”

The question comes out of nowhere, shocking you enough to give you pause. His nostrils are flared again, and his chest heaving; he looks furious. He takes full advantage, a firm grip around your upper arm pulling you to your feet before he does exactly as he’d threatened, tearing your outfit off in one effortless tug. The question of what you’ll be going home in flits across your mind, but it’s background noise, drowned out by the confusion at his sudden uncharacteristic question and the oceans swirling in his eyes staring down at you.

“I hate what you do to me.” Words you weren’t sure you were meant to hear push the air from your lungs as he tugs you towards the bedroom, your feet following until your back hits the soft down comforter stretched across his bed.

You want to contemplate what he means by that, but he doesn’t give you time. He’s nudging your legs apart with his knees, his cock flushed practically purple in his grip as he finds you dripping wet and ready for him. There’s nothing slow or gentle about the way he fills you in one hard thrust, his arms immediately pulling you upright and flush to his chest, your thighs trembling from the burning stretch between your legs as he lifts you slightly and lets you sink down onto him.

“You know, out of everyone,” he purrs, all signs of his previous anger neatly tucked away, “your pussy is still my favorite.”

Whatever of his anger had quelled now coiled in your belly at his words, and you shove at his shoulders, his unsuspecting body toppling over with a clumsy “oof!” as your knees straddle his thin waist.

“Ohoo, ha! That makes you mad doesn’t it?” he taunts as you do your best to pin his wrists above his head with two hands, “That you have to share.”

It’s a thought that shouldn’t irk you in the slightest, but it makes your eyes flash green with envy. He doesn’t even flinch as you hold him in place despite how easily he could overpower you in less than a second. Tufts of white hair fan out around his head like a halo for a man anything but angelic, his hands wriggling free just enough to entwine his fingers with yours. You go from feeling in control to once again at his mercy as he cradles your palms in his, the gentle press of his lips to the point of your chin waking the butterflies in your stomach. There’s no reason for him to be this reverent, this intimate, he was spitting in your mouth just minutes ago, but he continues his soft path, your head turning to allow him to trace your jaw and find the sensitive hollow behind your ear.

“Now you know how I feel,” he breathes, and you clench around him as a shiver shoots down your spine.

The sharp point of his nose grazes along your skin and you’re twitching on him now, but you’re too content like this to move. He’s so close, you feel hypnotized, almost serene as you breathe him in and just feel him. The worst part is that he gives in, letting you have this tease of a moment, a flickering and fleeting ruse of something that will be ripped away. You like holding his hand, as it turns out, his grip is strong and delicate all the same, his fingers practically at the bend of your wrist. You’re just breathing each other’s air now, noses bumping as your eyes flutter closed, and part of you just wants to collapse and fall asleep.

“Am I still a prick?” he asks with a devious lilt.

“Yeah,” you confirm, but for reasons that aren’t entirely his fault.

“Hmm. Want me to be nice to you?”

Life will be easier moving forward if you refuse his offer, but before your train of thought catches up with the autopilot currently in control, you’d already nodded.

The pillow is soft under your head as he flips you onto your back, your bodies still connected while he situates himself comfortably between your legs. With the first slow roll of his hips, a kiss to your forehead sends your knees into his ribs, his smile stretching across your dewy skin before he repeats it all over again. It’s cruel, and immediately you loathe the woman who has seen this side of him before you have.

“You need to relax,” he commands, flicking his tongue out against your pursed lips, “Before you drive me insane. How long d’you think I can make it with you clamped around me like this, huh?”

“Aren’t you the strongest?” you sass in reply, trying to distract yourself, and he laughs.

“Most of the time.”

He’s found the angle that drives you mad, every drive of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you that inches you towards ecstasy. Your vision goes white around the edges, his lips still close enough to kiss but neither of you can focus enough to close the distance. At some point, your fingers had wound into his hair and his in yours, the muffled whines and gasping breaths escaping into the room more obscene than the guttural cries of his name of times past. This was raw, honest, desperate. He’s muttering obscenities as he tugs hard enough to have your scalp twinging, the sudden pressure of a hand clasping your throat dragging you up to the surface.

“I need you to…” He’s wrecked, sweat dripping down his temples, his hair stuck to his face, “I need you to come. I can’t…”

A reassurance that he can cut the act and do what he needs to is cut short by a blinding, white-hot wave surging from your middle outwards. Your nails seek to permanently indent their half-moon shapes into the marbled perfection of his back while your face buries in his neck. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you can feel the vibration of his voice against your cheek until your senses begin to regulate, and it’s then you realize it’s a pleading whine of your name he’s been chanting like a prayer.

Panic sets in, he looks like he’s in agony, his face twisting and eyes clamped shut but when your hands cup his jaw it melts away. A lazy kiss allows you both to settle, lips tugging and pulling, tongues brushing softly, and you can feel him softening inside of you as his cum and yours soaks your inner thighs and drips onto the bed. You want to know what he’s thinking, but his face is unreadable now, it’s almost as if he’s half asleep, opting to rest down on your chest for just a moment, his ear directly over your still-hammering heart.

There’s no time to decipher exactly what had just transpired. It’s better that way. He lifts you with ease and carries you to the shower, his fingers scrubbing your hair before he drops to his knees in front of you–a silent plea to return the favor. You take it slow, scraping over his scalp and combing through his thick locks until his head falls to your stomach. You stay until the water runs cold, not a word is said, and there’s no use in translating the silence. It doesn’t matter anyway.

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he chuckles as he passes you a t-shirt from his drawer, watching intently as you pull it over your head before focusing on the way the hem hits the middle of your thighs, “Maybe you’ll have to climb in through a window like the old days.”

The memory makes you smile.

He’s in nothing but sweatpants when he walks out with a wink, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel in your hair. Once you leave this room he’ll call you a taxi, and then it’ll be tomorrow. So you sit there surrounded by everything that makes Satoru him. Empty soda bottles on the nightstand, mochi wrappers surrounding a half-empty trash can, his uniform for tomorrow folded and set neatly on a chair in the corner of the room beside the moonlit window, expensive watches he rarely wore, an array of sunglasses, and a single photo of him, Shoko, and Suguru Geto from their second year at Jujutsu High tucked back on the dresser like a relic he dares not move.

When you finally shake the lead from your feet and trudge into the kitchen, Satoru’s at the stove, music playing lightly from his phone on the counter, the symphony of the orchestral tune mixing with the sound of metal scraping on a pan. As you approach the table, he slides a plate across to you, your stomach rumbling at the sight.

“What’s this?” you squeak out, staring down at his offering.

“An omelet,” he states bluntly, flipping the one he’d started for himself.

It’s like an anvil has been dropped on your chest, the control on the tears that had been threatening to break free since he’d pressed worshipful kisses to your stomach in the shower waning. It’s insane that for a moment you consider he actually cares, the lack of common decency you’re shown in your daily life making every gesture grand, even something as simple as this.

“Do you…not like omelets anymore?” he asks, you hadn’t realized how long you’d been in a staring contest with your late-night snack.

“I do.” Your throat is closing in on itself and it’s becoming impossible to mask.

“Okay…”

Etiquette takes over, and you sit to take a bite of what he’s prepared for you, but the small piece you’ve cut off only makes it halfway to your trembling lips before it goes clattering down to the table.

“What is–” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Why?” The question is much more harsh than you intend.

“Why what?”

“This.”

“Because your stomach has been gurgling since I picked you up. It’s annoying. And you said you wanted me to be nice to you.”

You can’t help the knowing laugh that snaps you both out of whatever daze you’d been trapped in. Your appetite ducks and runs once again and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. It’s all part of the act; he could be whatever it was you wanted, all you had to do was ask as long as the request wasn’t honesty. If he won’t call you a cab, you can get one yourself, and you find your discarded bag on the counter on the other side of him, but of course, he blocks your path.

“What is your problem?” The concerned furrow of his brow almost makes this all believable, like he can feel remorse.

Footsteps coming up the sidewalk catch not only your attention but his, and although he slips around you to separate you from whatever lies on the other side, his arm held out to keep you safely pressed behind him, your anger has already taken over.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” you snap, shoving at the barrier of infinity he’s activated.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Is your next visitor here? It is a Friday, I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Tch. I was working before I dropped everything to come rescue you. Left poor Megumi to finish the job on his own.”

“As if you couldn’t have just done it yourself.” You mimic the way he unleashes that destructive purple technique, flicking against his invisible wall right behind his ear with your middle finger, “Just let me leave–”

“With no pants? Good luck.”

The color drains from your face when it isn’t a woman’s voice heard on the other side of the door, but a very familiar one. Three raps of a wooden cane echo through the palpable silence, your body going rigid in terror as the sound of your pulse turns deafening.

“What did you do…” you mutter under your breath, backing away from Satoru who’s playing the part of shocked exceptionally well, “What the fuck did you do?”

“What did I do?!” he responds in a hushed, frantic whisper.

“You called him.”

“Of all the stupid conclusions you’ve had in your life!”

“Gojo!” your father’s voice echoes through the room, “GOJO!”

Part II is almost done! Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs=love

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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kokomos · 2 months

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✴ ⅱ. new habits die hard ࣭ ๋ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ‏☽

— starring AU! LUKE CASTELLAN ! ♆

⤷ ⅰ. new habits die hard

MDNI 18+

warning : weed! luke & reader smoke together.

alternate universe : takes place in an au! where there are no gods, or demigods for that matter. luke lives with his mother, alone, and takes care of her full-time when he's not off doing odd jobs for the locals.

description : after moving several states away from his home in suburban connecticut, luke found himself in unfamiliar territory and in need of a new plug. lucky for him, you're the town's resident drug dealer.

tags : fem! reader, dealer! reader, loser! luke, au! luke; dom! reader kinda, subby! luke; luke can't handle his weed.

honey's note : somehow this got turned into a slow–burn? next part will contain more action, promise <3

it hadn't been a full week since luke castellan, new to town, stopped by your trailer to get his fix. it seemed out of the question that the plug he'd be buying from would be you. even as he neared the residence for the first time four days ago, impressions formed based on the unkept and rather disastrous front lawn, nothing would have him guessing a girl would be the one behind it all.

his neighbor's son, a permanently befuddled teen who luke deemed ‘nice enough’, offered up your contact as soon as the older boy mentioned smoking. he certainly wasn't your wisest customer, that's a given, but you know he meant well and there's no denying that he definitely did you a service despite his impetuosity.

a few messages are exchanged between you and luke prior to his arrival. you pick the time, telling him to swing by around eleven—it’s later than he cares for, his mother always advised him against driving late at night, but he’ll oblige without a second thought if you're the one asking.

in all honesty, luke didn't even need to pick up more bud—the surplus he underpaid for had only diminished by a gram or so, less than two. still, he wanted to see you again. something in his heart was telling him that it was a necessity not a desire; that you couldn't be separated from actions taken in the name of self-preservation. though, luke wasn't dauntless enough to tell you the truth and he certainly didn't have the confidence to back it up either, so he'd keep that to himself—just for now.

his hands were trembling slightly as he hobbled up the stairs, across the makeshift porch, to reach the front door. even the very tips of his fingers couldn't conceal the fact that his heart was racing.

luke was quick to note that the steps were broken; shoddy craftsmanship combined with neglect over time—the same treatment that the rest of the property had received. for a moment his mind wandered and he thought about how he could fix them up for you; he could fix up a lot of things around this janky, old plot. there's no way he would even think to charge you for the labor, though he has a feeling you'd insist anyway. a payment from your finest stash, luke surmises. but that was neither here nor there, and he needed to prepare himself to greet you.

his right hand forms a fist before connecting with the frame of the door. he knocks twice before adding one more for good measure, a pace behind the other two in uniform.

the crooked door swings open, and there you stand. luke had already been wearing a flare on his cheeks, but it only intensified further at the sight of you in a pair of pajamas. tight short-shorts and a simple tee.

“hey,” you welcome him so casually it makes him feel like a fool for being so nervous. he has no time to properly greet you as planned, instead providing a remarkably sheepish smile as you move a bit to the side, beckoning him through the doorway. “you comin’ in?”

of course he is.

he complies in an instant, more or less meek in appearance as he glides past you. luke takes a few steps away from the entrance of your home, and plants his feet firmly into the warped hardwood of the living room, turning his attention to you in wait.

“so, you smoke a lot or did’ya have to supply your friends some?” you ask after closing the front door shut. the question is brought about with an air of nonchalance, though that does very little to calm his nerves.

he chuckles, feeling both caught off guard and put on the spot. “uh—,” he clears his throat as his eyes flicker to yours. “yeah,” he falters for a moment before finishing with forced conviction, “i kinda smoke a lot i guess.”

you shrug it off, giving him the benefit of the doubt, though there isn't much belief in your expression. “sure,” you dismiss, “come sit with me.”

there's not much room for luke to debate. your feet are already in motion and you brush right by him to cross the space, path set for the sofa. luke follows and takes the seat beside you, sinking into the cushion with visible unease. he makes an attempt to get comfortable, and fails, unable to decide where he should put his hands. after several moments and careful consideration, he decides on extending his palms to rest over the expanse of his jeans. in the same moment, you prop the heels of your feet up onto the table in front of the couch, angling your legs into view for the nervous wreck to your right. a small sigh of content draws his attention from the sleek skin of your thighs towards your rosey lips.

that smirk you've formed causes some alarm and his nerves flare up once more. “have you never seen shaved legs or something?” you enunciate each word in your query, goading him into a more playful mood.

his cheeks flush, and he feels like a fool for the second time tonight—must be a skill of yours. tearing his gaze away, he lets out a shaky breath, one that he'd been holding in since he first took that spot next to you. “sorry,” his speech stalls and his eyes warily meet yours again. “i wasn't trying to…” he staggers off, hoping you get the memo—which you do. but there's no fun in not teasing the boy, especially when he's just so easy.

“to perv on me?” you finish for him, smirk left unrestrained and etched into your face.

his eyes widen, slowly leaving yours, and his head shakes from side to side. “i would never,” he stammers quickly to plead his defense.

“i'm just fucking with you,” you reassure him, light-hearted words paired with a jaunty wink. it wouldn't be fair if you were to chastise the boy for simply looking your way, certainly not after the last time he made your acquaintance—and you were doing far more than just looking at him.

you draw your legs back, letting your heels hit the floor, before reaching for some supplies laid out on the table. you unscrew the top of the grinder, unveiling the packed chamber. a whole glut of green and purple tints. your fingers pinch some of the ground weed and you begin filling the bowl for the bong—both crafted from pink glass and marked by hearts. suddenly, your efforts cease and you turn your head to catch his eyes.

“you wanna stay to smoke, right?” you smile a bit ingratiatingly.

luke immediately nods his head; and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight. instead you opt for returning your focus to the task at hand, finishing up and placing the bowl in the stem.

“guests first,” you offer the bong out with a grin luke could only describe as endearing; a contrast to the mischievous curve your mouth usually carries.

there's only one thing replaying in luke’s mind as he reaches out to take the glass from your hands.

don't embarrass yourself, don't embarrass yourself, don't—

he flashes a quick, grateful smile for your hospitality. “thank you,” he mumbles, ignoring the unabated warning currently clouding his thoughts.

your pupils dilate the moment his lips wrap around the same piece you'd had your own two lips on not twenty minutes earlier. such a natural, you praise him without a word. he pulls a hit from the bong with ease, yet coughs on the exhale. the glass, with the bowl still lit and burning through the remainder of the green, is mindlessly passed towards you as he desperately tries to compose himself.

a snicker escapes your throat. instinctively, your hand reaches over the middle of his back and you pat a few beats to aid his efforts. “you okay?” amusement accompanies your concern.

by now, luke was entirely out of sorts; but your chaste touch, an attempt to soothe the discomfort from the smoke infiltrating his lungs, was enough to make him catch his breath and hold it. “luke?” you inquire, curious about his condition.

“i’m fine,” he tries to laugh it off, flustered by more than just the way his name rolls off your tongue. his head turns your direction and for the first time, he makes real eye contact with you—not just for a brief few moments before he inevitably glances away.

a smile lifts your cheeks slightly and you retract your hand from his back. much to his disappointment, you break the contact in favor of taking your own hit from the bong.

there's a few more exchanges of the glass back-and-forth before luke taps out. you hadn't realized he saw each offer of your generosity as some sort of competition between the two of you, to see how much he could handle.

he's melted into the back of your couch, eyes fluttering shut. cute. you’re feeling the effects of that friendly contest too—not as much as he is, evidently. years of smoking every day, all day, granted you a higher tolerance for the substance, and the opportunity to tease your client. “do you have something to prove?” you titter with delight.

“hm ?” luke hums, tilting his chin to view your face instead of the wall he'd been zoning out on.

“i asked if you had something to prove,” you restate plainly. “you know you didn't have to keep up with me, yeah?”

you're drinking in the look on his face by the bucketful. lips parted as his mind whirls, searching for an answer to a question he's already forgotten—“huh ?” his voice comes out more soft and airy than you've recently been accustomed to, not that you'd ever complain about that.

“nevermind, man. just, uh—” you stifle a snicker, holding back from full-on laughing in his face, “—take it easy.”

he mumbles something in confirmation, ‘okay’ it sounded like, and allows his eyes to rest once more.

“sleepy?” you coo, applying a tone one might use on a child rather than the man luke was trying to portray himself as.

he manages a faint chuckle, but barely opens his eyes to respond. “mhm ,” he murmurs, with a dopey grin on his face.

you square your shoulders, leaning against the back of the couch with your thighs flat against the cushioning. “you wanna lay your head down?” you simper.

the weed had mitigated some of luke’s anxiety, and his inhibitions were at an all-time low. “sure,” he agrees, unwavering for a change.

a couple pats drummed on the upper portion of your leg coax him closer. without delay, he kicks his feet up and stretches across the sofa until he's properly situated on his side. with his left cheek now pressed into your thigh, you can feel the soft hum of contentment contained behind his lips. your hand reaches out towards him, fingers seeking refuge in the soft curls atop his head. it doesn't take more than a few minutes for your eyelids to grow heavy, and a small yawn signals the inevitable. when the clock strikes twelve in the trailer, all is silent—apart from the snoring of you and the customer you forgot to sell to.

ᡣ𐭩 with love , honey

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dealer!reader #loser!luke #dealer!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan headcanons #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo imagine #pjo headcanons

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clonerightsagenda · 1 year

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I know this is just a numbers game like every other tumblr poll but I am still agitated on Death's behalf. Discworld Death:

Loves cats and fills his otherworldly home with strays (possibly ones that he was supposed to reap)

Gets takeout and attends costume parties

Named his pale horse Binky

Quit his job for a while and worked in food service

Had to pretend to be Santa Claus the Hogfather and got a little too into it

Was contractually obligated to ride out with the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse during the end of the world but pointed out to his fellow riders that nobody ever specified whose side they had to be on

Spends time living as a human and realizes that if death is inevitable, the least he can do is make sure someone gives a damn, and makes this argument successfully to the manifestation of universal entropy in what is my favorite monologue in the entire series

Goes through an amazing books-long character arc centered around reinterpreting his catchphrase "There is no justice. Just us." from meaning 'Life's not fair, shit happens and then you die' to 'There is no external force ensuring that life will be fair, so it is our responsibility to make the world better ourselves'.

Vote Death. No one but MY Reaper Man.

#discworld

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astrosky33 · 1 year

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HOUSE MEANINGS IN ASTROLOGY

[READ] People often question why there’s so many meanings for each planet/house and the reason is so that you can learn more than just one thing about yourself through each placement. Otherwise astrology would be very vague and boring. These are all meanings that I’ve learned from my astrology classes at Kepler College

1ST HOUSE: identity/self, outward personality traits, outlook on life/approach to life, appearance, physical body, beauty, confidence, beginnings, how you initiate/ambition, your mannerisms, your outward behavior, physical fights, your presence, individuality, and passion

2ND HOUSE: money/finances (how we spend it, store it, and manage it), work, short term jobs, your work ethic, material possessions, self worth, values, emotional security, stability, financial security, how you meet financial obligations, your singing voice, giving/receiving, and resources (both material and non material)

3RD HOUSE: communication, your speaking voice/the way you talk, your mind, the way you think/your thinking skills, your perceptions, your opinions, your conscious mind, neighbors, siblings, interests, gossip, ideas/information, mathematics, literature, transportation (only ground not flying/air), local media, social media, cell phones, phone calls, visits, social activity, publishing, early education (before college), short trips, and short journeys

4TH HOUSE: homes/houses, family/family roots, your parents (particularly the mother/motherly figure), your inner child, emotions, foundations, your childhood, heredity, tradition, self-care, places of residence, real estate, properties, femininity, and conditions in early life

5TH HOUSE: children, childlike spirit, talent, creativity, drama, risk-taking, spotlight, romance (shows short term relationships, flings, hookups, and if long term relationships then only puppy love), hobbies, pleasures, objects of affection, vacations, games, speculation, fertility, concerts, festivals, and joy

6TH HOUSE: daily routine/day to day life/daily tasks, your health/fitness/the work you do on your body, your duties, self improvement, consistency, step-siblings, your hygiene, innocence, systems, service to others, co-workers, analytical nature, diets, animals, and your pets

7TH HOUSE: long term relationships, marriage, concern for others, attraction/attractiveness, charm, conflicts, partnerships, business partners, contracts, love affairs, open enemies, close associates, lower courts, negotiations, peers, agents, equality, harmony, and sharing

8TH HOUSE: major transformation, sex, death, longevity, changes, joint/shared finances, investments, stock market, your partners resources, taxes, inheritance, reproduction, seduction, intimacy (in general not only sexual), rebirth, merging, taboos, resurrection, loans, assets, secrets, mystery, businesses, spiritual transformation, magic (especially black magic), psychology, surgery/operations, trauma, periods, and the occult

9TH HOUSE: wisdom, law/laws, beliefs, religion, philosophy, higher education (college/university), viewpoints, languages, foreign environments, in-laws (your relatives through marriage), ethics, long journeys, travel, ideologies, higher courts, media, television, interviews, cross-cultural relations, grandparents, and learning

10TH HOUSE: your legacy, your career, your public image, your status, your reputation, fame, long-term goals, worldly attainment, sense of mission, responsibilities, recognition, authority, father/fatherly figure, experts, bosses, achievements, and professional aspirations

11TH HOUSE: friends, friend groups, gains, money made from career, desires, step/half parents, step/half children, uniqueness, inventions, technology, film, social awareness, influence, manifestations, hopes and wishes for the future, ideals, humanitarianism, associates (not just close ones), groups (in general), politics, social networking, where you make your debut into society, companions, allies, science, socialization/social interaction, clubs, organizations, and parties

12TH HOUSE: healing, the hidden, karma, karmic debts, old age, sleep, mental health, solitude/isolation, dreams (the ones you have when you sleep), hidden enemies, hidden causes, illusions, secret bed pleasures, spirituality, fears, losses, endings, escapism, impersonations, closure, need for withdrawal/privacy, afterlife, limiting beliefs, subsconcious memory, subconscious mind, hypnotism, self-undoing, hidden desires, the past, delay, and restrictions

MASTERLIST

MORE BEGINNER ASTROLOGY

PLANET MEANINGS

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

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I know it's been done quite a bit but

Soft!dom Aemond please? Modern or canon era your choice ❤️ maybe some degradation???

is there really any limit to soft!dom Aemond tho? I hope you enjoy this nonnie xx apologies me writing smut is so shit, I wish you guys could just see what I see (that sounds weird but you get me) !!!

Serve Me.

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x Servant!fem!Reader

WORDS: 3,477.

WARNINGS: soft!dom Aemond, degredation kink, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, fingering, hint of power kink/dynamics.

A/N - I left this in the HOTD universe, but please feel free to request for a modern AU version / HC :) BIG BIG THANK YOU to my soulmate @sahvlren for helping me to jump start this, I was experiencing terrible writer's block and my main girl pulled through. I love you baby <3 sorry if there are mistakes, I'll edit tomorrow LMAO but enjoy this heinous writing for now x

Aemond Targaryen, the notorious one-eyed Prince, was an enigma to many... Including yourself. You had only ever known him as your Lord or Grace, and you as his mere servant. Aemond scarcely spoke to you unless to give orders. Although from much close observation, you'd figured, he hardly spoke to anyone at all, unless to command or vex. His endearing silence, and impenetrable demeanour itself was quite intimidating, let alone the nobility and authority the young Prince possessed, did not help to ease your fears of the man.

Aemond often would use this to his advantage to seek out what he sought for, so you've heard.

You knew from your upbringing and low social standing, not to dare provoke such a man. Being trained the etiquette to serve and obey was all you'd known, and that would remain unchanged. Much to your oblivious nature, however, Aemond had been carefully watching you. He hadn't spotted you initially, amongst the servants that greeted him in the morrow, for it was difficult to decipher who from who, as you all moved about in haste and in identical, ragged uniforms. Yet the moment, you caught his eye, a yearning began to ignite in the pit of his stomach. With each passing day, of your close presence, this feeling began to stir into something more palpable. Whether it was the blatant vulnerability or the innocence in your eyes, [he had yet to determine] something about you had intrigued him to no end.

Not to mention, you were some sight for sore eyes...

In comparison, to most of his servants that he had been raised with, some far older than he and others not suited to his acquired tastes, you, you had captivated him. He had no idea where his mother had found you, and yet he never fathomed to question her decision. Aemond did also often prefer, if given the chance, to gather some background on servants, that had been newly entrusted to serve beneath him. He knew their day-to-day service would mean he'd be exposing himself to vulnerable situations, whether it be to help run a bath, attend to his wound care from training, or even so, if the Prince had fallen into illness [although rarely]... He refused to oblige in trusting others so lightly.

And yet, he made the exception with you. He wanted to directly hear your story from your own words, as he could envision your luscious mouth moving, forming the words as you spoke gently. In actuality, he'd only would’ve granted you the chance to speak so freely, for he knew you were just a helpless maid: he knew could easily overpower you, even if you foolishly attempted something... Aemond felt he could read you like a book, the evidence was blatantly obvious in your frightful, uneasy eyes. The way he gave you orders, he'd paid close attention to how often your eyes would dart and flutter to his voice, your body shuddering when nearby, unable to maintain even a minute of contact. It drove him wild, that he had such a profound affect on a woman. He could understand that perhaps it was an authorative play, and yet, he enjoyed it immensely. His curious mind often pondered over devious thoughts, endless possibilities of what other things he could compel you to do...

Attending to such time consuming, domestic duties, you'd often be accompanied with a few other maids or servants, although after some time, they began to disappear one by one, until only you were the only other being presenting yourself to Aemond in his chambers. It was only after you had questioned your fellow colleagues about there whereabouts after, that they'd openly disclosed, "the Prince has solely requested for you".

Gradually, you began to notice subtle changes in his routine. He would now often, or what you felt, was an attempt to delay your dismissal from his duties as much as possible. Spoling himself longer in your presence, if he had called you in initially for one thing, you'd end up having a thousand other tasks set to do, as he lurked on. During these moments, Aemond remained persistent in not talking, just observing you with a watchful eye, from a reasonable distance, as though not to pounce on his prey just yet...

Unlike his elder brother, Aemond refused to lower himself to such vile behaviours. There was no denying, if he wanted to, he could've easily forced himself onto you. Yet, was adamant to control his urges. Intending to take his sweet time with you, although that primal, almost animalistic part, was weaning less and less in patience. Whether he sat by the fire, immersed in some ancient text, or as he roamed by the windows and balcony of his quarters, he was always there, never ceaselessly leaving you alone. You could always sense his firm gaze subtly lingering over your body.

Now, he got bold...

As you tended to the adjusting the white, soft sheets on his king sized bed, as you did each morning, you’d heard the faint eerie creaking and sudden thud of the door shutting. Your attention snapped towards to see Aemond stood by the door, returning from his familial breakfast feast, watching you unfalteringly, before you refocused your attention to the task at hand.

He had never shut the door before... Always leaving it even just the slightest bit agape, it made it less daunting.

Trying desperately to avoid lurking towards his unnerving direction, you were oblivious to his faint footsteps creeping up behind, as the sheets rustled in your shaky grasp. You felt an instant, light graze against the tight, thick fabric of your waist, an arm snaking its way around, prompting you to straighten your posture up. Feeling his lean body against your frozen state, his firm grip felt incredibly tight around you, although bearable enough to breathe.

"Hmm, tell me who you are...Strange girl."

You remained silent, paralysed in both movement and speech, you felt your courage melt away, if there was even an ounce of it.

His hand that remained free, gently rubbing down the side of your clothed thigh, found its way, firmly clenched around your jaw. Guiding your face slowly towards his menacing gaze, his height over-towering you. Your teary eyes gradually wandered up to find the Prince looking hungrily down at you. You could feel him devouring you, just with his eye.

Qilōni issi ao? [Who are you?] He lowly growled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your tender, flushed cheek.

Pathetically whimpering out your name in a quiet stutter, caused the one-eyed Prince to grin. A wicked grin.

"Gevie hāedar [Beautiful girl]..."

You had no comprehension whatsoever of the meaning to his words, although you were wise enough to know the words he spat belonged to his Mother Tongue, remnants of Old Valyria.

Oddly enough, it sounded poetic to your foreign ear, how eloquently Aemond was able to pronounce the words, the way the words rolled off his tongue.

"You are going to listen to every word I say. If you disobey me, rest assured Y/N, you will be punished."

Again, you struggled to formulate the words nor found the pluck to speak. Simply nodding to his words, as he nudged your body to turn, now completely facing him.

Pathetic, the dreadful thought echoed in your mind... Aemond probably thought the same.

"Take off your rags, you filthy girl," His words spat like venom, and yet the devilish smirk on his face said other wise, as the young Prince found himself comfortably seated on his wooden chair by the fireplace.

Reluctantly your body obeyed, loosening the straps and ties of the run down dress you called uniform. Lost in your thoughts of what was to come next, you hadn't realised that you'd picked up speed, until Aemond uttered "slowly."

You paused for a mere few seconds, registering his words before realising that as the seconds zoned by, you'd given Aemond the faintest idea that you may have been refusing him.

As you hastily resumed, although this time taking extra caution in slowly removing each layer of fabric, you realised you that you did not consider to fight back.

You had heard of rumours, of many servants attempting to fight back against their higher class lieges, only to have either been dismissed, silenced or even some disappearing for good, especially those bestowed upon Aegon as servants. You heard no such accounts of this kind, relating to the Prince that you had served, and yet you so easily succumbed to this. Perhaps you were not as brave, as you had naively convinced yourself to be...

As you finished taking the last of your garments off, nervously standing bare naked in front of Aemond, your eyes reluctantly fell on him. You observed him watching you, relishing himself in the passing time, as he examined each crevice, detail and flaw etched to your body.

Say something, you desperately thought. What is it you wanted the Prince to say, you had not the faintest idea...

"Gevie [Beautiful]."

The foreign tongue yet again, cursed your ears, you remained clueless and at a loss to its meaning. Did he enjoy his view? Was he satisfied with how you were? Did he relish in stripping you bare of not only your rags, though of your dignity?

His stoic expression did nothing to relieve the tension, you could feel your breathing growing heavier, as your bare chest heaved deeply with each long breath.

Instinctively, your arms began to cross, folding over your front, you felt it did minimal help to maintain some last delusional thought of integrity that you'd had. Aemond immediately pounced off his seat, gracefully striding towards you in a few, short steps. There he stood, in all his clothed glory, as his rough, large hands reached over gripping your wrists as he guided your arms back down to your sides.

One hand released its grip over your wrist, reaching up as his palm lightly cupped your breast, his thumb gently stroking, flicking your sensitive nipple.

He was amused at how you winced under his touch, a blatant smirk on his face.

"Hmm-"

Slowly glancing up at Aemond, you could've sworn you saw the young Prince licking his lips lustfully, convinced that there was a slight possibility may-haps, he was satisfied with the sight before him.

"Lay on the bed."

"Yes, your Grace," You softly whipped back, in a timely manner and without much consciousness to your words.

As you were about to turn to kneel yourself into the bed, his grip on your wrist tightened once more, this time tugging you aggressively, as you felt your body pull to face him, in a swift reaction.

"No, 'your Grace'-" He mimicked, in his same, deep tone.

"Just...Āeksio [Master]."

Repeating his words mentally, you were smarter than to dare question Aemond again, not inclined to vex him in the slightest.

Y-Yes... Āeksio" You anxiously stutter. That familiar, devilish grin reappearing on his chiseled face, almost amused by your poor attempt of a pronunciation of his Mother Tongue. He should be insulted, not amused, you figured. Yet you obediently stammered onto the soft bed, sprawling yourself on the newly clean linen, your back towards the mattress, as your hands kept you propped up.

"Spread your legs."

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words, refusing to maintain eye contact, as Aemond unbuckled his coat and leggings. Your legs quivered with reluctance, and he had noticed your delay immediately.

"I said spread-"

Leaning himself forward on the thick mattress, his clenched fists keeping him balanced, his threatening gaze remained fixated on your, showing no signs of mercy or remorse for what he was capable of. He'd exhaled a deep sigh, almost signalling a refusal to jest with commands longer, your legs began to slowly part in distance, exposing your bare cunt to the Prince.

"Do not dare to test my patience ever again, disobedient girl."

You responded, whimpering with a nod, sensing hot tears pooling in corner of your eyes, desperately trying to hold them back. One escaped, streaming down your blushed cheek, as Aemond removed his shirt and leggings completely. Now the Prince, just as bare as you, except for the remaining leather eye patch, his body was as you had imagined it, even more perfect in reality.

Chiseled and lean, his muscles prominent from the long days of training had paid off. The appealing sight before you, acted as a distraction to the situation at hand.

"Hmm-" Aemond lowly growled, as he steadily kneeled over the bed now on all fours, his attention spanning from your face to your cunt.

"I own this cunt, just like I own you..Ñuhon [Mine]."

Without a minute to spare, he crawled himself closer, his head hovering above your lower abdomen, as one arm wrapped beneath your tender thigh, tensing under his grip, he pulled your thigh further apart. His other free hand slowly reached towards your entrance, the cold tips of his long fingers, gently tracing over your moist folds. A tingle coursed through between your thigh, his thumb swiping over the skin.

"So you are wet for me? And I haven't even started... My pathetic, innocent girl."

"M-Master- Àeksio-" You squeaked urgently, remembering his command.

"Please, I-I am just here to serve you, b-bid me leave and I shall not tell a living soul."

Immediately, Aemond shot his eyes up at you, and he was far from impressed. Fury streaked across his face, he looked even more forbidding than initially, if it was even possible, his eye slightly squinting as though in shock that you'd even attempt to bargain for freedom.

He exchanged no words, only hastily shoving two, long fingers into your cunt, without even a merciful warning. You could feel his fingers, slowly swirling between your folds, circulating in sensual slow movements, before he began to found some pace, thrusting them in and out.

"A-Aemond-"

"Insolent girl, you were doing so well taking orders. And now that you've given in to me, you've lost all your senses.”

His fingers began to pace faster, although now he added an extra digit, widening your entrance even more, as your wetness began to pool, lubricating your cunt and inner thighs.

As you pleaded for Aemond to stop, refocusing your attention from the stony ceiling, to his handsome face, that wicked smile was once again, struck beaming up at you. This time he even let out a sinister chuckle, amused at how effortlessly your body caved under his touch.

Instantly pulling all three fingers out, his hand had been coated in a viscous clear-white film, eyeing his glazed fingers hungrily, Aemond looked to you menacingly, before lapping your sweetness with his tongue.

"Hmm-" He moaned, closing his eye for a split second as he took the time to savour the taste.

"Just as I thought... Delectable."

Wiping away the last remnants of your taste from his lips, Aemond relished in the moment. His eye fixated on you, he began to crawl himself up closer, your faces now only inches apart, as his fingers reached for your cheek, grazing your soft skin before combing back the mottled strands of your hair.

"Beautiful."

His word nor did his tone feel venomous, you earnestly stared at Aemond, as your eyes scanned over his features in greater depth. You'd never been this close to the Prince, and you'd been working with him for months now. His healed scar now peaked your intrigue, instinctively, your hand reached over cautiously, as though not to startle him, although more as a precaution for you.

Your fingers gently traced over the prominent, scarred line down beneath the patch, careful not to provoke any potential pain, as Aemond had initially winced beneath your touch, only to gradually lean into you.

"Are you frightened by it?" Aemond uttered, almost in a sorrowful tone.

"No, Āeksio."

"Are you disgusted by it?" He once more woefully questioned, his eye yearningly lingered over your lips, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

"No," You softly whispered, still reluctant out of fright to speak.

"Where have you been, you."

Hastily he removed his eye patch, flinging the material to the floor, revealing a mesmerising blue, sapphire gem stone carved perfectly, in place of his lost eye. You were not startled at all, although enthralled. And he had acknowledged your response pleasantly. Without a second to spare, Aemond found himself plummeting his lips down against yours, in a passionate kiss. His heavier mass weighing down ontop of you, caused you to lay back completely on the bed for support. His tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring and swirling inside, as his semi-hard cock weighed atop of your lower abdomen just above your cunt.

His breathing became slower and heavier, unable to take breaths in between, similarly your chest began to heave against his, your breasts caressing, pushing in towards his lean chest, as your back gracefully arched.

Your legs instinctively began to pull apart once more, as he adjusted himself below, feeling his throbbing cock, pulsating against your sensitive spot. His lips finally left yours, as he left a wet trail against your soft skin, trialling down the crook of your neck, to your breasts. His hands gripped to your wrists, as he pulled your arms overhead, pinning you down,one hand freed itself, reaching down below as he gripped at his hard cock, causing him to moan, he positioned himself at your entrance, adjusting himself to plunge in, before taking one final glance at you.

That was his warning.

His cock felt long and girthy, as he shoved himself in, your walls stretching to fit his pleasurable mass and length. It hurt, for this was the first time you had laid with a man, unimaginably, it also happened to be the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. And yet, it felt so wildly right. An electrifying jolt coursed through your body, although it was tolerable and became enjoyable the more time you spent immersed to this new sensation.

"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly moan, a satisfied look appearing on Aemond's face, as he watched you intently from above, your reaction to his movements: causing you to arch once more, bucking your hips upwards as your face turned up towards the ceiling in retaliation.

"So needy for me, needy for your Prince. You'd be nothing without me, no one."

"Y-Yes-" You agreed bashfully, although at this point you'd agree to anything Aemond proclaimed, so long as he kept this steady and slow pace up.

"Such a needy whore, Y/N. My needy whore, who takes such good care of her Prince."

"Y-Yes, I forever w-will."

His thrusts became faster and he kept steady at it, his endurance was unfaltering [you'd come to be most thankful to all the years of training he endured]. His groans and growls became louder and more frequent, as your walls clenched tighter, feeling more of your warm cum coating his cock inside, oozing from your entrance coating your thighs and his balls.

"Forever mine. You belong to no one else-" He grunted, struggling speak in coherent sentences as he tried to manage his breath.

"Understood?"

No response. This only infuriated him once more, causing his grip on your wrist and one on your waist, keeping you planted, to tighten, as he squeezed firmly for your attention.

"Yes, Āeksio! Yes!" You delightfully cried out, reaching your climax.

A few long minutes went by, and Aemond felt himself releasing his cum inside of you, a breath of relief escaping his mouth, grunting in pleasure, as his grip still remained firm on you.

"Fuck, now you are definitely mine."

You knew the potential consequences, although in the moment you could not fathom nor consider what may occur. You were concentrating on your breathing, just as Aemond was, relinquishing you from his claim, pulling his cock out carefully, he hastily stood himself up out of bed, reaching for some sheet, to clean himself.

"If the Gods be good, you'll carry my child. Bastard or not, you are mine, regardless."

Your breathing now steady, you felt your sweaty body cooling in the air, as the rush had settled, nodding to Aemond's words, although it still felt more like commands.

"Wh-Whhat will the others think of me? What excuse shall I say? Your Mother, the Queen, what will she say if-" You worryingly stutter, as your consciousness begins to return, seating yourself up, as you shakily wrap the dampened sheet around your naked body, still petrified of Aemond's judgement.

"These matters must not concern you anymore, Y/N. I will see to take care of it myself. Your only duty remains the same, to serve me faithfully."

You simply nod against Aemond's words, as he wipes himself with a wet cloth at the basin set by his table. His leggings now on, he remained but shirtless, walking back over towards you, as he comfortably seated himself down beside you. He brings forth a wet cloth to your forehead, wiping away the sweat beads. Lustfully, he gazes over you, a genuine, heartfelt smile on his face, before he succumbed to planting a small, soft kiss on your clean forehead, before refocusing his attention on you.

"Understand this, you belong to no one, Y/N. You will continue to serve me, as I see fit. In return, I will take care of you... Alas, as I see fit."

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srbachchan · 2 months

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DAY 5843

Jalsa, Mumbai Feb 16/17, 2024 Fri/Sat 4:03 am

Many send greetings and wishes for Basant Panchami - the day Abhishek was born, was that auspicious day - and all obviously desire a response ..

But the volume of work is large and time consuming, hence an acknowledgement here on the Ef platformic Home ..

The day begins in the hours of laziness .. and matures to some discussions on management .. not having any presence or education in this rather complicated sphere .. it never has, or never shall be, understood by the rest ..

But .. the argument is that just when you become a recognised face, an entire Universe is created around it ..

For, it is assumed that the individual has been gifted with solutions and answers to all that needs them .. at birth ..

Wrong !!

No .. we are not proficient for this job or work .. dumb as hell and immature in its outlook .. we consider the advice given by those in the echelons of management ..

But choosing the right people, and extracting the work protocol from them is another management task ..

So there is reliance on others of trust to find and appoint such to be able to manage affairs, without giving any stress to the creator .. in a sense giving the individual an apparatus that gives the personality, relief from day to day running of his schedule and curriculum and protocol .. and an entire gamut of work now being handled by the TEAM - an oft used word in today's times .. bringing sufficient relief for the professional to have the freedom of thought and mind to conduct what he or she feel about their work .. and to be conducted in a manner that takes care ..

When my own choice of recruiting individuals has been, and is, a most trying experience .. I would be the happiest to find that my management, looks after, all else and gives me peace of mind to concentrate on what is believed to be my forte ..

😒

It is all very well to conceive and ideate what creatively may be of interest to me .. but does it also attract a similar sentiment with the rest .. is what my dilemma is !

In today's world there is no dearth of set ups, organisations in consultancy , that take charge of the situation and brings the joy and independence, from what seems to me to be far too complicated ..

I also feel that, many offer services in their grace towards me .. and I never feel comfortable to be seeking obligation from any other, even when the gravest condition is blown upon , coerces you to share the issue with those that are in proficiency related positions ..

Yes, there are dime a dozen organisations that readily take up this job and bring it to fruition .. but how to demonstrate to them what is it that gives comfort .. for, there is no time for trial and error .. now ..

And ever the fear , whether I am losing something or not, in having gone about it in a systematic professional manner ..

Many give opinion, that if the boat sails safe and comfortably in the oceans of the existent Universe .. why rock the boat at all ..

And the dilemma again .. in finding out that what was before, was the best methodology, than what is being desired now ..

Ahh .. life is so complicated .. !!

And then the learnings from Babuji and the return to his thoughts and wisdom .. make way and suddenly everything falls into place ..

For I am certain whenever any of us has faced an issue, the first thought that comes to mind is .

"what would Babuji and Ma have done in such decision making situations .."

And suddenly everything falls into place ..

The human psychology ever thrashes any fixed or formed ideas, and thoughts on issue ..

The most oft repeated being ..

" when I have 1x .. how has the other got 3x ..

And this becomes the base of diffident thinking, which propels one to compete and fight to beat .. and win ..

BUT .. just as you have succeeded in this trail and laughing your way to the bank , nature throws another sidewinder gauntlet moment , challenging all that you may have felt comfortable with ..

Hence either you get out of bed and determine the mind and body to fight .. or merely accept the condition, lie back quilted , and reminisce the days gone by ..

Remember .. enough is never enough ..

Love and more ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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onesidedradiostatic · 1 month

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Personally, I think both Vox and Lucifer are hot as fuck. But as a chronically online iPad baby with a fondness for tv head people, I feel I have an obligation.

Now if we can look in-universe for a second and realize that Alastor is very likely not the ONLY sexy man in Hell, I feel like Vox is likely to have a few admirers he isn’t even aware of due to the difference in status. Or maybe he’s aware they exist but wouldn’t recognize them on the street unless they noticed him first and he Knew what their giggling and squealing and blushing faces meant. Lucifer, on the other hand, has been kind of a shut in due to depression. He has potential but isn’t there on account of sad boi. Meanwhile Vox has probably gone on TV doing some light fan service to boost his ratings. Nothing too far, nothing Val would suggest! But y’know, he did a cruise ship kinda outfit during Stayed Gone, implying there’s oceans in Hell and that implies beaches and it’s not like wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks and some sandals would be out of place if he decided to do a beach-themed episode of anything…

I actually can't really say if I find either of them hot I'm just more attached to vox that's why I want him to win against lucifer. I have already spoken in favour of him though so I have to double down on defending the tv head thing (and anyways choosing the more normal head sounds boring. y'all are boring. we are on tumblr. sexymen are supposed to be weird and have a questionable aspect to them. I will keep saying it! idc how obsessed with ducks lucifer is he is too normal!!!)

ANYWAYS. vox having like. canon thirsters would not surprise me. he would thrive off having admirers but at the same time he wouldn't care about them because they're nothing special to him. but he thrives off attention so he enjoys it. I feel like he's on social media enough to at least be somewhat aware of it. he'd act smug about it but ultimately gotta be more of a freak to be his type. lucifer... I mean I'm sure there's some out there but most sinners seem to hate hell's royalty LMAO they're like so mean about charlie already. lucifer definitely isn't aware of his own fanbase at ALL he's been completely shut in and disconnected from the sinners. also vox doing fan service for views? I could kinda see that but also, he literally wears clothes under clothes in stayed gone... he may do it for ratings but at the same time I'd also see it as a result of a val-encouraged thing LMAOOO

#ask #osrs.txt #this is the part where I type while half asleep and become unsure if anything I say makes sense #btw I feel like when I say a character is “hot” it may not be in the same way some others do #they are hot as in I would not want to do anything to them but their characters just entice me in a certain way #or some expression they made spoke to me idk #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox

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itshype · 1 year

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Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss, Godhood (DC x DP)

What’s the best way to cover up a secret when Danny can’t lie very well? Make an even more elaborate lie – but one that tugs on the heartstrings! My DC x DP Previous Works: Space Lover Danny, Kingmaker Danny, Service Animal Cujo, Danny yoinks Connor, Ghost Bruce HC + Ghost Jason HC

So, Danny's government just made his existence illegal. Which is rude and very othering and mean. In canon, Danny sort of slides around this but hey, this should be a pretty upsetting incident.

So, Vlad immediately switches his attitude (because your girl loves redeemed Vladdie!), and the two work together for weeks to try and minimise any chances of either of them getting caught. Danny is really feeling the whole “Only two of their kind” when his president declared open season on Danny (I don’t care if this isn’t how laws work in America. I’m not American I don’t care for foreign legal accuracy).

And so, weeks later, they’re actually together in ghost form with Extended Team Phantom (Tucker, Sam, Jazz and Valerie) trying to figure out their best way forward because if Vlad openly opposes these laws as Mayor too publicly the GIW might start looking at him way too closely and everything would unravel. They really can’t pretend that revealing the possibility of a human/ghost hybrid wouldn’t put events around whichever of them hadn’t been caught under a brand-new light.

Valerie is there pretending not to be emotionally invested in her boss’ and Danny’s welfare while reading a book and occasionally leaping in with “Devil’s Advocate” comments of how the Fenton parents and GIW might respond to some of their ideas.

Then the Justice League show up. Now there’s a whole law (please see Navigate any storm for my HC about the JLA’s relationship with the anti-ecto acts) they're obligated to step in. Now, I’ve been pretty uniform with who I’m including in these notfics so for a change, here we get Wonder Woman, Barry Allen’s Flash, Supergirl and I think Jason Todd but dressed up as Batman (Bruce got a booboo on his ickle frontal lobe and is out for the count, Flash and Supergirl are here because I loved their dynamic in all crossovers in the DCTV universe PRE-crisis).

Here we have the perfect storm of well read (Diana and Jason) but kind of gullible and not-as-paranoid as Batman (Flash and Supergirl, Jason is definitely suspicious but would defer to an expert like Wonder Woman in the right scenario).

Diana has shown up ready to fight, Hestia’s lasso glowing in her hands, and Team Phantom is sharp – they’re well trained and smart, but they can’t really compete against superhumans like the JLA. Diana demands that they all surrender and relinquish control over their human sycophants before being taken into custody for violation of the anti-ecto acts and performing actions of war on civilians or whatever other legal stuff she knows about.

The two halfas are floating and green so denying any knowledge would be bad. Vlad steps forward to try and babble on to buy Danny time and he scrambles for an escape. He doesn’t see a way out, but what he does see is the book that Valerie was reading. Percy Jackson. He looks back at Wonder Woman. Back at the book. Back at the Daughter of Zeus.

“Cousin! It’s so great you came to visit us at last!”

That at least gets Wonder Woman to pause. She asks what he’s talking about. Then “Batman” says not to let the ghost confuse them. He’s glaring at the vampiric ghost who seems to be trying to protect the smaller one. Vlad has legs, Danny has his little tail form.

Danny lets out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard. He explains that ‘of course’ they weren’t ghosts. They were superpowered beings. Superpowered beings are protected by metahuman law.

“Batman” points out that they both look a lot like ghosts. Danny’s mind is scrambling for the right names. He finds them.

“Oh, I am actually the son of Melinoe, goddess of ghosts.” Daughter of Persephone, would make him Diana’s first cousin, once removed. Totally fit in with his power set plus she was a really obscure goddess who wasn’t very well known or documented, and therefore he could make up stuff about his ‘mother’ if he so chose.

“And who’s the vampire?” Barry asks, though Jazz, at least can tell that everyone is way less on-guard.

“I am…” There’s a very long pause. “His Father. Deimos. God of Dread. Son of Aphrodite and Ares!” Danny wants to smack him.

Okay, great, Vlad just ‘yes, and’ed Danny from being a demigod to the both of them being full-blown gods in their own right. Sure.

“Yes! I am Phantom…”

Jazz cuts him off to say that his name was Phántasma [φάντασμα] and of course the locals just anglicized it to Phantom from the original Ancient Greek. Danny agrees and goes onto explain how he was a pretty new god – y’know, comparatively – and these were some nice humans who were all considering becoming his priestesses and priest. Sam ducks in to explain how Phantom – sorry, Phantasma, was the god of ghosts finally relinquishing hold on their forms and surrendering to the afterlife. Something chill and small, nothing that would necessitate him getting involved with human affairs and no abilities that would mean any extra attention from the Justice League.

Diana starts to cry, she thought she was all alone in the world and right here was her cousin. All along she had family in the realm of men, family who had been so excited to meet her yet who had not reached out. Unfortunately, Danny made a mistake. Melinoe isn’t Hades and Persephone’s daughter. She’s Zeus and Persephone’s daughter. Diana connects the dots and in a single instant stops crying.

“A baby brother!” She reaches forward to squish Danny’s face.

Jazz takes great offense at that. Danny is her brother (though she can’t admit that). Danny’s at closest, Diana’s half nephew – but since he’s her half nephew on BOTH sides she’s willing to concede him as her full nephew. Diana argues that since her Dad is Danny’s grandfather and great-grandfather plus great uncle, their ichor is close enough that he’s basically her full brother. Ironic as Deimos would actually be closer to being her half-brother. Vlad is a creepy old vampire though, not an adorable teen superhero.

Tucker makes up a very elaborate story about being too insecure to reach out before now. He requests Phantasm’s blessing to convey this story to Wonder Woman so that Danny doesn’t have to say anything.

Valerie gets out a notebook to try and map out this fictional family tree while googling all the deities’ names she doesn’t already recognise. It makes her thankful it is only fictional. Phantasma’s family tree looks more like a Christmas wreath. “Batman” is also trying to figure out the most appropriate relationship between Phantasma and Diana in his HUD.

This is when everyone has made their biggest mistake, not paying attention to Vlad for more than a minute. This is a problem he is thrilled to remedy. His chest swells and he starts to prattle on about how hard it’s been for him as a single father since his beloved Melinoe died in the God War (Wonder Woman’s cinematic canon prequel). Of course, Supergirl asks how they survived, and they say some very broad things about sheltering in the afterlife where Ares could not reach them, as gods are most powerful in their own domain.

Disregarding the fact that if this all were true, Danny would be about 100 years older than her, Diana acknowledges that a child without a mother must struggle and offers to help Danny whenever necessary. If he wanted to, he could come live with her in DC and meet all her superhero friends to help guide him.

They’re scrambling for a reason as to why Danny would turn down this offer. Vlad speaks first. He explains that since his mother’s death, Danny has overtaken her domain as the god of all ghosts and, while Phantom is very clearly not a ghost, he couldn’t possibly leave all his subjects. Especially since the stupid GIW keep attacking father and son. Vlad says that honestly, the US government should be glad that they haven’t smote them, the GIW and everyone else who would challenge them.

Diana is horrified. Ghosts are revolting scum, and her two new family members are full-blooded gods who shine with otherworldly power and definitely not the glow of ectoplasm.

Whenever any of the other superheroes (who are more clear-headed at this time) try and ask any probing questions either:

Danny insists that a mere mortal wouldn’t understand the scope of his abilities

Tucker yells at them for daring to question “Phantasma’s” great authority

Sam insists that she would hate to be told the answer, that everything her god does is for her to decode. She asks what they think the symbolism of Danny robbing a bank could be.

She offers to get them in touch with the president and he could make them both special advisors to the GIW – the JLA had only been called in due to how much trouble the agency were having and bringing two gods in would be a quick way to get the entire situation ship shape.

The flash gets in touch with Phantasma’s high priestess next week, he reassures everyone that the ‘misunderstanding’ is all cleared up. Danny’s officially the CEO of the guys in white.

Hope everyone enjoyed. Masterpost coming soon.

((Dan as Hades???))

Here's "Phantasma's" family tree - simplified

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jmdbjk · 29 days

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Bangtan weekly report

I hope everyone is having a great day so far. It's been a busy week/weekend for Bangtan.

Hobi's Hope On The Street album dropped on Friday and I got my ass to Target first thing to get it!

The album is amazing, as I knew it would be. Hobi continues to amaze me. I'm struggling to find the right words to express how I feel about him. As I told my bestie, Hobi is the blood and bones of BTS. Namjoon might be the big brain lyricist, the leader and Yoongi might be the constant melody maker and realist, but Hobi makes the whole thing come alive and beat with movement.

The first two episodes of the HOTS docu-series were also amazing. To hear and see him delving so deeply into the thing that makes him who he is and therefore makes BTS what it is brought tears to my eyes.

The Hope On The Street Pop Up location in Seoul is an overwhelming success as were the parties that Hobi threw for fans in LA, Chicago and NYC.

Items from his Hybe studio are on display at the Seoul pop up event and merch that is available there might be the same that will be available on April 9 on Weverse Shop.

Neuron dance lessons were being conducted today and look like they are being filmed. Maybe they will end up in a future Bangtan Episode! If you'd like to see more of what's inside the pop up, you can view this thread on X.

(image from @ddaisyy94 on X)

Yoongi has entered the Nonsan Training Center, the same one where Namjoon and Tae did their basic training. Yoongi's basic training will last 3 weeks and then he will return to his alternate service assignment. He looks so good! (sarcasm)

And it was mentioned that Jin accompanied Yoongi on this day. Jin wasn't going to let Yoongi enter military basic training without having his only hyung in the group see him off.

Speaking of Jin, his Weverse post for March was 77 DAYS LEFT!

Jimin has made a scholarship available at the Department of Physical Therapy at Dongeui Science University in Busan. According to the information, Jimin made this donation prior to enlisting. Physical therapists are important in his and the members' lives to keep them healthy while performing at such high levels.

Taehyung was spotted at a soccer match in Chuncheon. He was with a group of fellow soldiers in uniform. However, also present were Manager-nim and several recognizable Hybe security guys. Interesting.

Namjoon shared some moments from his weekend with us. I will assume he is taking his proper holiday now that he's past the 100-day mark of enlistment. He visited Sorol Art Museum in Gangneung, he hugged the sky at a beach, smelled the cherry blossoms and was lurking in and about the Hybe building because he saw a banner from Army. It's possible the banner was installed by the owner of a nearby restaurant.

Hiding his beard stubble with hotteok:

Stopping to smell the flowers during his time off:

Hugging the sky at the beach:

And I can't leave my precious Kookie off this week's report. We don't know if he and Jimin have taken the vacation that is due them now that they've also passed the 100-day milestone of their enlistment. They've completed just over 20% of their obligation as of yesterday/today and tomorrow they will be promoted to Private First Class II.

We've seen more pics of Bam than of JK this year.

(photo from @holicare.barf on Instagram)

#bangtan weekly report #bammie!#jimin #jungkook #hobi #yoongi #jin #namjoon #taehyung #bts military service

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batrogers · 3 months

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So, which Links pay their taxes, for real?

This is a somewhat fast and loose approximation of my recall of historical taxes, who paid them (or didn’t) and how, how they were collected and from whom, and what kind of taxation was even possible under different governments. This is pulled from a couple decades of study into historical society and books I’ve read on feudalism, the social duties of knights, and government structure and instability in both medieval Europe and the Ottoman Empire, among others.

Notes on organization:

1. While this is a response to a Linked Universe post, I am going per game not per Link because a few games must be split. The implications about taxes are drastically different between LttP & LbW, and Minish Cap & FSA. I also wished to include Spirit Tracks bc it’s fun. I am not linking the inspiring post, because I don't believe in attacking people for a ten minute list just because it twigged my history brain.

2. I am excluding games in which Link is not implied to be a tax-paying resident of the country he’s in, so Majora’s Mask, Oracle of Ages & Seasons, and Phantom Hourglass are not included.

3. There are usually overlapping taxes in a society. Here I will mostly address taxes on residents, on vocations or landownership, whether they can pay in coin or in kind, and if they have a household that would pay tax for them.

4. I have placed Hyrule Warriors in Child Timeline here for a few reasons, mostly related to army structure implications, the martial norms of the game and the two preceding ones (large standing armies in FSA and HW; mentions of “prolonged wars” and very military flavoured royal regalia in Twilight Princess.) Obviously this doesn’t strictly mean anything or oblige agreement, but its my habit to do so and I wished to explain the choice.

I apologize so much for how long this is. If you wish to read it in a different format, it's also on AO3. This is 2000+ words. I suppose if you click, I hope you enjoy.

A note on Knighthood:

Knights were a specific, highly trained profession often (but not always) associated with landownership, either someone who was in the household of the landowner, or who was the landowner themself. The trappings of knighthood (weapons, armour, and horse) were quite expensive and belonging to a family of knights implies a specific degree of social status in and of itself.

While a sovereign can in theory bestow any title they want on anyone at any time, usually this requires that there be some service rendered for which this is a gift. (Fucking them, or just being hella attractive, counts.) Because of this, there is a wide variety of things “Knight” can mean, but here we will presume it means some degree of professionalism and attachment to a social status that is both someone who collects taxes from subjects and pays them to a sovereign in turn.

IIII

Skyward Sword =

There is no evidence of centralized government in Skyward Sword, therefore the taxes are going to whoever is in charge of the settlement. They were likely paid in kind (material goods), although Skyloft does have coin. Given we know who’s basically running Skyloft, we can guess they were paid to Gaepora, and at least one tax-funded organization: the Knight’s Academy.

Did students pay taxes? Graduates might be exempt from some taxes if still in service to the city. Afterwards, given he’s usually presumed to be married to Zelda, we can say Link is either paying taxes (or hearing about it personally at dinner), and/or helping collect and distribute taxes to others.

Or, even funnier, setting taxes on the new community because they need supplies to build it.

Minish Cap =

There is a central government in Minish Cap, because they have a monarch! This is probably a small territory: some “kings” have a few villages and fields and that’s it, but it is a castle which requires taxed goods to function because it’s not producing its own.

Link’s grandfather is a blacksmith, and also alive therefore if the census tax is paid per household, Link has nothing to do with it. If its paid per business, he’s an apprentice or employee so it’s still paid by his grandfather. Depending on which taxes were being paid when, they might pay coin or in kind (eg. Labour or goods produced.) While people absolutely did lie and cheat and not pay taxes, I expect the con artistry didn’t involve “refunds” in a modern sense, but that’s probably tax history specialization territory...

Four Swords =

This game doesn’t have enough of a framing story to comment on its social structures, but is superficially similar enough to Minish Cap we can assume the situation matches.

Ocarina of Time =

We literally see Talon paying his taxes in kind in the game. Like, you can’t pay milk as a lump sum so delivering it reliably to the castle could be counted towards his taxes, or he’s getting paid enough for it that will be paying for it later. Either way, supplies are delivered from Lon Lon Ranch by its owner who is still alive after the game and presumably will continue to be responsible for it until he is no longer owner of Lon Lon Ranch.

(Malon likely is a valid heir to Lon Lon Ranch. There is no reason to assume marriage affects her legal claim to Lon Lon Ranch. It is not common for a woman to lose her property in marriage – British law is the exception to historical norms – so even if Talon died she could still be sole and/or primary owner of Lon Lon Ranch, whether or not she is married.)

Link starts out the game not even on a Hyrulean census, with no property to his name, and no social connections. He is not paying taxes because he does not legally exist. Until he is counted on a poll as a resident of either Castletown or Lon Lon Ranch, and until he’s considered an adult (usually by means of acquiring personal property or skill of any value) he’s unlikely to be taxed.

Now, if we include into the assumed connections to the Hero’s Shade who died in elaborate plate mail we get a very different answer. Someone who owns elaborate plate mail of that sort has significant money. He may have received it as a gift for service to the crown, but if so it likely wasn’t the only gift. Plate mail is often associated with knights; a knight of some consequence is likely attached by some means or another to property. Knights under a King usually collected taxes for them... So, in a world where Link has platemail and is a valued knight of the Hylian Crown he may also, like Skyloft, be the person collecting taxes to pass them on. Whether or not that means he now technically owns Lon Lon Ranch by means of owning the land it’s on.... I leave that up to you.

Wind Waker =

Outset Island most likely operates like Skyloft: there is a headman or prominent family who collects surplus to give as aid, either in terms of money or food or services. Within that space, Link living with an invalid grandmother and also underage sister was probably one of those families receiving surplus as social support, possibly on top of whatever his grandmother was still capable of in her old age.

However, Link is implied post-game to leave with Tetra. What taxes did a ship and its crew owe? Harbour dues, customs, and other duties! This varied a lot and was usually addressed whenever someone docked at a controlled port. Often questions were asked about where the materials came from, more or less scrupulously. Sometimes people cared if you just happened to have something without a sound origin, that you had taken from someone else... like we see Tetra’s crew doing in-game...

It may indeed be possible Tetra (and her crew) are wanted for tax evasion and Link gets to be included in that, whatever his age.

Spirit Tracks =

This boy works for the centralized government’s transit system. If he doesn’t pay taxes, it’s because he doesn’t owe taxes because he’s working a tax-funded job and likely has been since he was an apprentice. He is possibly also union and knows the local tax law in extremely nuanced detail. He will judge you for not paying your taxes.

Twilight Princess =

The start of the story is also framed around the village blacksmith making some kind of tax-like offering to the royal family and setting Link up to take it. This is likely not a normal tax, but it does tell us that Ordon Village is considered a designated social unit within Hyrule and therefore we may assume that “Ordon Village” is a taxable entity in its own right. Link, as a resident of Ordon Village, would pay his portion of the village’s tax to the Mayor who arranged for its delivery. If Link marries Ilia, you can expect once again this is someone who either hears about taxes over dinner, or is helping collect them.

If Link leaves and moves to Castle Town, he’d have the joys of all the things large city residents pay for, up front or not, that village residents who are not transporting food and goods long distances but those will be sales and customs taxes, not per-person taxes based off the census or his vocation.

Four Swords Adventures [Game + Comic] =

Link’s family is explicitly positioned as either a knight family, or a legacy castle guard family with close personal ties to the royal family. He also has a living father, who is implied to survive the game/comic. As such, with Link a minor, he’s not paying taxes because he’s not liable for taxes. He also may be paying taxes by means of collecting taxed goods from the lands over which his family has ownership and paying a portion of that income to the Crown themselves.

Interesting, this could also tie into something I’ll mention in more detail below but one form of “evading taxes” can be “refusing to do labour.” If he is from a family whose young men are supposed to provide service to the Crown in the form of military labour, “leaving” is a crime.

Hyrule Warriors =

In this game, Link explicitly starts as a base soldier. It is possible for soldiers to be a form of population tax (and/or control) especially in larger kingdoms or empires. He likely did receive regular pay, but he might also have been considered legal property of the Kingdom, eg a slave. Either way, his upkeep was entirely from the taxes that went into the coffers, whether it was in food or kind. Post-game, he’s likely been involved in rebuilding which again would be in large part executed by taxed goods and labour. He might even be part of the apparatus collecting or setting taxes, especially if he becomes close with Zelda herself.

Link to the Past =

Link is explicitly stated to belong to a knight family, with an adult family member who is (arguably) alive at the end of the game. If he is paying taxes, he’s paying them from taxes paid to his family. Not paying your taxes as a knight family is infinitely more suspicious than not paying them as an individual, because then your monarch wonders what you’re using that money for. Is it rebellion? It better not be rebellion.

Link Between Worlds =

THIS Link is a Blacksmith apprentice. He does not have any known adult family. He may be assessed as part of the household he is apprenticed to; he might be assessed as independent depending on his age and where he is in his training and what the local tax law looks like. If there is a guild he may be assessed by means of his membership... but that may also be a separate tax from what he’s paying per the census. He could likely avoid it altogether, because he’s not exactly important at this age and social rank.

Ravio, on the other hand, is in some way involved with the Royal Family of Lorule (Hilda is personally betrayed he left.) However, Lorule is a failed state. There is no means by which they can collect taxes, nor distribute them... which is likelywhy Hilda has no control over her guards. (People aren’t very obedient when not getting paid.) Recovery to a state where taxation is reliable and people feel it’s worth doing will be a long road.

Zelda I & II =

Same as above: Hyrule is a failed state, at best in the process of recovery in Zelda II. People likely do not trust the tax collectors who do exist to pay their dues to the Crown vs keeping it for themselves. This is a matter of power rules. Link, a minor with no property, is likely of zero interest to anyone unless they sell children. In Zelda II, where he lives close enough to approach Impa with a question, he may be paying taxes if he has a vocation or he may be helping work in the castle, which brings us back to he’s collecting, distributing and/or paid by taxes.

BOTW & TOTK =

Hyrule here is NOT a failed state because they do not have a central government attempting to exert control. Here, things are more like Wind Waker or Skyward Sword: village mayors or prominent families control local taxation. There is limited intercommunity interactions, which are likely a matter of market tax. Link, if he settles in Hateno village, would be accountable to them.

In TOTK, we do see some kind of centralization: there’s the joint effort to construct Lookout Landing and the monster patrols, both of which would require outside support until local agriculture begins. Which communities contribute is hard to say, but most villages at this time are more than prosperous enough to spare the means. A new settlement would reduce overcrowding, increase the land available to farm, and so on: all good things for a prospering world.

(This does NOT imply they are re-establishing the monarchy. None of these groups call themselves “royal”. They’re monster patrols, not royal guards, and Lookout Landing, not a new Castletown. The location has access to already-quarried stone and trade routes going for it, after all.)

Given how Link behaves in both games, it seems likely he would contribute whatever surplus he acquires to these efforts. Out of every Link, I think he is the most likely to be cooperative with taxation... although there may be some arguments about what his taxable means is. Should this be paid in rupees or bokoblin guts? Let’s negotiate!

TL;DR =

Taxes vary wildly across time, space, regions, and forms of government. While some Links live in similar social circumstances, we have at least four really distinct categories: the Knights, the failed states, those with vocations, and the villagers. Similarly, many forms of taxes are for social support, things that Link tends to be characterized as valuing in the games. When people refuse to pay, they either do not see the request or authority as legitimate, or do not have the means to do so.

IDK it’s just infinitely funnier to me to say “Wind Waker Link is wanted for tax evasion because Tetra has never paid a harbour duty tax in her life” vs stating the evasion without cause. All the best!

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