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geltears · 3 months

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fratboy!geto

cw: college au, masturbation, smut, love confessions, miscommunication

fratboy!Suguru who’s in the most popular frat and on the football team only because his best friend and local campus manwhore, Gojo Satorou, is the captain and head of the frat

Suguru had sworn he knew almost every girl on campus from seeing them enter Gojo’s room at least once but he has no idea who you are when you’re paired together for a Psych research project

“Are you new here? Haven’t seen you in this class before.” And he’d know that you’ve taken this class for 2 semesters if he ever bothered to come to class not hungover.

He pretty much forgets about you after that until Satorou starts eyeing you up in the hall on their daily walk to class and he looks at you, actually looks at you and the frilly dress you’re wearing with your necklace tucked in the same way it was when he talked to you in class.

Suguru doesn’t know what happened to him and why he feels the sudden urge to stake some claim over you. “Hey, we still on to work on our thing at your place right?”

Except, you never had any plans to work on your project but when Suguru grins at you, how could you refuse?

fratboy!Suguru who shows up to your dorm late as hell, still in his football jersey from training, panting with his hair slicked down to his face with sweat. If it were anyone else, he would’ve just skipped the meeting entirely but he thinks he might just have a crush on you.

“What’re you some kinda slut? Why d’ya have a pair of panties like that?” he shamelessly says and points out your lacy thong that you had left out on your bed. He thinks it’s adorable the way you scramble to hide the pink material but he’s already engraved the image into his head.

He doesn’t do much studying or any kind of work (you should’ve known) and somehow weasels his way into your bed.

He’s a great fuck: sweaty toned abs pressing against the back of your thighs as he bends your knees into your chest to drill his thick cock into you. “Hngh Suguru- I can’t take it-“ you’re clawing at his arm and gasping from the stretch.

“You can take it,” he grunts, “C’mon be good for me and fucking take it.”

He’s so big you almost think you’re going to die— die from how good he’s fucking you. You can feel him in your tummy, his fat leaky tip pressing against your cervix as he jackhammers his hips into you with wet plapping sounds as his balls slap against your ass.

fratboy!Suguru who has an almost perfect attendance record this semester because he comes to class just to see you. He's sillier than you would have imagined-- do all football players play footsies under the table?

No, Suguru usually leaves these stuff to Satorou but he loves the way your eyes crinkle up in delight when he makes you giggle.

He chats you up every time you have class, brings you sickly sweet pastries because he doesn’t know what else you’d like and for the first time in years, Suguru feels a connection.

You still get a little flustered when he talks to you because why is he still talking to you when you've already submitted your assignment and he's gotten into your pants?

fratboy!Suguru who finds himself rushing to put in one last word with you after class. He had this all planned out but all he manages is “You coming to the game later?” with a sheepish grin.

And funny enough it’s your first time going to one of these games since you enrolled.

When they win, Geto surprisingly comes running over to you in the front row of the stands, pausing when he realizes he was leaning up for a kiss. He hugs you instead, grinning widely and looking handsome as ever as he pulls you flush to his chest.

It’s perfect until Satorou appears behind him and slaps a hand on his shoulder in that boyish way, sporting his signature toothy smile.

“Is this your girl or something? You’re gonna miss the celebration party.”

“Nah just....a friend,” he clears his throat, “See you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

fratboy!Suguru who ends up leaving the party early because things just don't seem fun when you're not around anymore.

He indulges himself silly and waits til his body is hot with need before heading up to his room to wait off the alcohol.

Suguru finds himself butt-naked, beefy thighs spread wide on his bed as he jerks his throbbing cock and thinks about you. You and your pretty face.

He spreads his pre over his fat tip with his thumb, moaning lowly at the thought of how your fingers would feel wrapped around him. He bites his lip as he thinks about it: your hands would shake as you wrapped around his girth but you'd manage and your small fingers would squeeze and pump his cock expertly.

With a few more lazy twists of his fist around his cock and a strained buck of his hips, Suguru groans out your name and cums in thick, hot spurts all over his chest.

fratboy!Suguru who feels ashamed and acts as if it never happened when he sees you in class the next day. He sits next to you and talks about the usual frat-party shenanigans like you’re just friends.

Because you are just friends, right?

Suguru’s attitude makes you want to curl into a ball and disappear. He makes you feel like a dumb little girl. Why did you think the hot footballer would take you seriously?

fratboy!Suguru who definitely has a huge crush on you and finally works up the courage to ask you out. It’s a shocker but he’s only ever had one girlfriend before and that was in high school and the girl tried to fuck Satorou (who refused).

He gets to class early to wait for you in your usual seats and he’s practically bouncing in anticipation at seeing you. He thinks about how pretty you look when you scrunch your nose in concentration and his cock stirs in his pants.

fratboy!Suguru who spent the whole class on edge and too worried to take notes because you never showed up. He runs faster than he ever has on the field to get to your door and he might’ve broken the door down if you had let him pound it a little longer.

“What? Oh, hi.”

“Holy shit- Where have you been?” he rasps.

He's pushing past you and letting himself in un-invited, burly shoulders shoving you away from the doorway with ease. "Is there something you need?" your words crunch on their way out.

For the first time since freshman year, he finds himself fumbling for his words. "Well yeah- I uh, wanted to tell you something."

Suguru can see the tick in your brow and he thinks it's the first time he's ever seen you get angry.

"I like you," he blurts, loudly and stupidly like he's never talked to a girl before," I like you a lot and I was wondering-"

He doesn't get anymore words in after his embarrassing little confession because you're already leaning up on your tippy-toes to kiss him deeply, small hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

fratboy!Suguru who realises that he didn't kiss you the last time y'all had sex so no wonder you thought it was just a quick fuck to him.

He makes sure to make up for it. That night, Suguru's mouth touches almost every intimate part of your body. He's nothing like how rough he was before. He kisses your inner-thighs and eats your pussy like a man starved, slurping and pulling you down against his face so his tongue can get as far as possible inside you.

He kisses you sloppy after too, your cum still fresh on his tongue and his face still covered in your slick.

Geto has never been this nervous about sex before. He bumps the tip of his cock clumsily against your clit, veiny length throbbing at the sound of your shocked squeal.

He kisses your ankle, spreads your legs wide so he can get a good view of where his cock sinks into your tight cunt and your clit twitches with want. He thinks you're so sexy-- he could cum just like this without moving an inch.

But he doesn't. He steadies his breath and angles his hips to hit your sweet spot, groaning every time you moan from the sensation and clench around his cock.

fratboy!Suguru who kisses your forehead when you wake up in the morning to being pressed against his firm chest, now with the title of his girlfriend.

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thequeenofuselessinformation · 5 months

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So basically the entire character list of The ballad of songbirds and snakes is the exes from hell

1. Coriolanus Snow

-Mansplain Manipulate Manwhore

-Great hair and fashion sense

-Love bombs you

-Old money

-His (grand)mom hates you because her son can do no wrong so clearly you're the problem

-His favourite hobby is emotional and mental abuse

-Snitches on you when cheating at family board game night (he's deflecting that he's also cheating)

-Emotionally stagnant (narcissist with mommy and daddy issues)

2. Sejanus Plinth

-Loves you to bits, so does his mom (your waistline will never truly recover)

-Indecisive about where to grab dinner always

-New money and it shows in his insecurity

-Supportive asf

-Breaks up with you because he can't be with a non pacifist/vegan

-Daddy issues

-Condemns Shein hauls

-Identity crisis every other week, you'll have to talk him out of a buzz cut, jumping off the ledge or giving all his money to scammers (if you collect all the stamps you'll get a financial compensation from his dad on the wedding day)

3. Lucy Gray Baird

-Her Ex is a dick, will stalk and harass you

-Her family is a bunch of hippies, will make you eat with your hands, on the floor, while singing Kumbaya

-Sings you to sleep, braids your hair

-Almost poisoned you thrice cause she doesn't understand you shouldn't mix cleaning products together

-Old soul

-Thrifts, recycles

-Puts salt in your coffee after arguments

-Ghosts you after your make or break argument

4. Casca Highbottom

-Never asks about your day, his is always worse

-Drug addict in denial

-Weird beef with his old classmate's son (he never lets anything go)

-Dislikes people, which would be fine if you weren't included

-Always on some sardonic shit, probably a business major with a psych minor

-His pills take all the space in the shared bathroom, your makeup will be shoved in the far lowest drawer next to the TP

-His ancient ass coworkers hit on you at symposiums, he's too high off bathroom cocaine to stop them (or gets off, either way you're tired and want home)

5. Dr Gaul

-Devil Incarnate

-You somehow rizzed her up at a function and she's been showing up at your house ever since (you don't how but she has both the address and a key)

-Petting zoo type of owner

-She always smells like chemicals and latex

-Asks you unhinged "Would you rather" questions and refuses to drop it (makes your Would you love me if i were a worm ex cute by a long shot)

-Will perform experiments on you without your knowledge or consent

-Insists her pet snake shares your bed

-Freak in the streets and the sheets (the restraining order won't even go through cause she's in cahoots with half the Government)

-Definitely wanted for war crimes somewhere, the G in Geneva convention stands for Gaul

6. Lucky Flickerman

-A clown.

-His hair and skincare products take over the entire bathroom/vanity

-He can't dress to save his life, but he sure thinks he can

-Golden retriever boyfriend energy

-Steals your concealer, refuses to admit it

-Would you like to see a magic trick? What do you mean this is a serious fight, there's a quarter up your nose

-Impulsive buyer, has 13 snow globes of panem because they were on sale and looked shiny

-Even his pet thinks he's a dumbass

-Cries during movies

7. Tigris

-Yes she do the cooking, yes she do the cleaning

-Insecure about her appearance (critical, will cost you)

-Her family is a bunch of snobs

-Anything she touches turns into gold

-Her cousin can do no wrong, you have to accommodate everything for him or she'll die (and he never even visits, "just in case")

-Her grandmother is a package deal, I hope you like boomer propaganda and info commercials early on Sunday morning

-Empathetic asf

-Puts everyone's needs above hers (and unfortunately yours)

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dreamerdeity · 7 months

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𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

*ೃ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Choso Kamo x Fem. reader

*ೃ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4.1k

*ೃ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : A hectic schedule and impending deadlines require you to be at your sharpest, yet you can't seem to get a second of sleep thanks to your heedless dorm-mate's nightly jam sessions. To scold him at first, you make your way over to his room, but suddenly he's teaching you how to strum a guitar, and suddenly again, you're somehow in his lap .

*ೃ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧��𝐬 : Hand job, Praise kink (f. giving), unestablished relationship, cursing, slightly perverted behavior (?), 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, the rest, please proceed at your own risk.

*ೃ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : YAYYY first Kinktober piece in my series!! This one's quite long only because it's Choso and I've recently (2 years and counting) been on my Kamo boys d riding shi so they get special treatment. Also, please do not report my work! I'm tired of getting flagged, so if you are uncomfortable, do not read.

⇄ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Football season approached its grand commencement, dawning an atmosphere of vibrance and vitality upon a typically spiritless college campus (mid terms tend to have that sort of effect on people, you supposed). Every kid around the buzzy premises had begun to eagerly place their bets, ready to squander their humble savings on predictions pertaining to games they weren't exactly a part of.

But as elating as it all sounded to the average student with heaps of coursework and limited entertainment, opening week was an incredibly hectic time for you, and if you were normally indifferent about being on the cheer squad, you sure as hell hated it during this time of year. Because let’s just say, sore muscles and ill-functioning ankles weren’t exactly your idea of fun—Neither were tight ponytails that threatened to rapture a vein in your temple, however—oh however, setting all of that aside, there was one thing you always, always looked forward to: Catching a glimpse of Choso Kamo languidly slumped against the least congested corner of the bleachers--if he were lucky enough to score a corner seat, that is—his bored eyes barely following the figures of beefy men running around the field at breakneck speed.

His entire existence within the stadium was an anomaly of sorts as raging crowds jumped and screamed around him, and it baffled you to say the least; How he never failed to show up—all dressed up and equipped, mind you—but barely reacted. Why the hell was he here when he clearly looked like he'd rather be doing anything but this? Like, maybe, spending the evening in his lair (his room) all alone, drowning in stifling darkness (he refused to raise his blinds. ever). Though the more you saw him around the stadium, the more you looked forward to being there.

pretty weird, pretty sappy.

You often found yourself discretely glancing over at the crowds in search of him when a game was on, smiling to yourself with a giddy skip to your step every time you did. The circumstances were ordinary, unfavorable even—and you racked your brain left and right—for any logical justification to the sizzling concoction of emotions that bore itself into your psyche every time he so much as uttered a single unenthusiastic “Hi” your way.

Sure, he was aloof and mostly kept to himself, emanating a brooding air that bordered on intimidation as his sharp features wordlessly screamed “don’t talk to me” while you greatly contrasted him in demeanor, carrying yourself ever so vivaciously, always high-spirited and bubbling with energy, but something about him made your head spin. Perhaps it was the way he towered over you as he passed by in the hallways, his guitar case handle firmly secured under the grip of his ring-stacked fingers. Or maybe it was those tired half-lidded eyes that met your own for a speck of a second every time you encountered one another on the way to your neighboring dorm rooms. Granted, you’ve barely exchanged a full sentence over the past two years you'd "known" him, apart from the occasional “good morning”, and “the weather sucks today, doesn’t it?”, but damn.

Choso on the other hand simply didn't have a single fucking clue how to approach you. Despite his good looks, he was too awkward to pull the girls he wanted, and he didn't have much game anyway, he knew that much, though that never stopped him from stealing glances at your pretty round ass every time your skirt rode up your thighs a little too high while you passionately cheered for your team down by the field, or how his vivid imagination raced at a million miles per second every time he caught a whiff of your vanilla bean mist as you skipped past him with your friends. It seemed like you weren't the only one having a hard time, and yet the both of you were acting like cowardly hormonal teenagers, too afraid of laying your feelings out in the open for each other to see.

You fancied the man, that was the conclusion you'd reached, but boy did he love to get on your nerves sometimes. Matter of fact, you'd pray to whatever deity if it meant getting him out of the damn dorms and off somewhere with whatever friends he had for once, because at this rate you won't be getting any shut-eye for the rest of your days. You always heard him toying with that blaring guitar of his late into Friday nights, missing a single note and deciding to play the same riff again over and over until your eardrums threatened to pop. You swore it made you want to rip your hair out every time, and tonight was no different. You dramatically pull the covers over your head in an attempt to block away the ruckus, making a point of huffing and puffing dramatically, hoping he'd magically hear your distress and quit his shit.

To absolutely no avail. He did not quit his shit.

After what felt like an eternity of agitated tossing and turning, you get up with an exasperated sigh and stomp out of your dorm room, making your way over to Choso's to give him a piece of your mind.

"Open up, will you? I've been hearing you fiddle on that thing for an hour, ya know. Some of us need to sleep!" You knock a little too aggressively for his liking and shift your weight between your feet in awaiting. A few beats later, muffled shuffling echoes from within his room, and you can hear him groan in annoyance as he trudges toward the door.

It cracks open at first, timidly almost, like he was debating whether to step out there and confront you, or shut the door right back at your face. Under any other circumstances, you think you might've found that cute, how a grown man double your size was so unnerved by your presence, but right now, you needed sleep, and you needed to scold him. So you lightly block the door with your hand and he finally yields, stepping out in all of his glory.

Fuck.

Whatever bitter words you had planned to hurl at him stick in your throat. He looms over you in nothing but a black shirt that hugs his pecs a little too tightly, sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking just above the waistband. It just dawned on you that you'd never been in this close a proximity to him before, and you involuntarily trail your eyes downward, gulping at what you thought you saw under the thin fabric of his sweats. Probably packing a horse or two down there if you dare say. Stop being weird, damn it.

"Sorry. I'll play unplugged then." He tells you blandly, his guitar still hanging around his waist and his digits hover over what looked like the B string, giving you a view of the bulging veins and stacked up rings hugging his thick index and middle fingers. Pretty hands. Really pretty fucking hands. You wonder how it might feel to intertwine your fingers with his own, or trace the callouses on his palm, or maybe even have those fingers in your—

"You uhh...you good?" He clears his throat to grab your visibly wandering thoughts and you shoot upright like a child caught sneaking a bite of candy right before supper.

Great. You were staring. He caught you staring.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, you do that." You just smile like an idiot, having forgotten why you knocked in the first place at this point and quickly avert your eyes, haphazardly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear in a failed attempt to busy yourself with any kind of movement, anything to dissipate the cloud of tension (or awkwardness, you tended to get delusional sometimes so you weren't so sure) that had loomed over the two of you.

"That song you were playing. It's really nostalgic. I didn't know you had a thing for the oldies." You beam at him with a tilt of your head, expertly deflecting from whatever he might have said after following your eyes that cast down. And maybe even an implicit apology for your irritated banging earlier

"Yeah? You know it?" His stoic eyes light up ever so slightly with a glint of enthusiasm, and you wouldn't have noticed it at all had you not been standing mere inches from his form.

"Yeah, my dad used to blast it in the car all the time I almost got sick of it."

"Well, he's got taste." His lips curl up in a faint smile, and he pauses for a moment, internally battling with himself at the inevitable prospect of having to cut this conversation short, so he does what any normal person would do, perking up slightly and gesturing behind him, "Hey, you uh, wanna come in? You could watch me play or something, I dunno."

This was the closest Choso was ever going to get to making a move. Quite frankly, he expected a rejection right then and there, and he would have preferred if you just got it over with as soon as possible instead of staring at him with wide eyes and an indecipherable expression, but you would have been a fool to decline his invitation. After all, this was your chance to get…closer to him. Whatever that may mean, and so you too did what any normal person would do...

"Yeah, sure!"

Accept his invitation.

It takes him a moment to realize you've said yes, going into a momentary stupor, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was...shocked. Though he doesn't hesitate in retreating to the side, holding the door open for you with his free hand. There was plenty of room to smoothly make your way inside, and yet you deliberately brush your hip against his arm as you wiggle in, fleetingly glancing up at him with a knowing smile, because, my god, there was no denying the fact that he caught onto your subtle gesture, pulse quickening and faint flush steadily creeping up his cheekbones as he averts his eyes some place else to avoid your own. He's so cute.

"Neat room." You trail off as you make your way around, unceremoniously plopping down on his gaming chair.

"Thanks. Your posture is terrible, by the way." He quips with a quirk of his eyebrow, making his way over to sit across you on the carpeted floor.

"Oh well, aren't you a peach, insulting me in my own home!" You glare at him, voice laced with feigned offense that hardly masks your amusement.

"Your own home? You're in my room."

"This entire building is the home in question."

"That makes no sense becau—"

"Shut up!"

“Ok sorry.”

My god, he really is so cute, and you wonder when was the last time your heart fluttered at a man as he pliantly drops the subject and crosses his legs, adjusting the guitar in his arms. He’s wearing Christmas socks in March, you note. Gotta marry him. When hes happy with his posture, he glances back up at you as you swivel and spin in his chair like a child.

“Got anything in mind?” He tilts his head to the side, calloused fingers absently strumming on amp-less strings.

"Something easy to play. I know a thing or two about guitar you know. You're not the only cool one here." You quip with crossed arms.

"That so?" Choso chuckles at your words, grabbing his pick and steadying his posture. " 'Kay, how about this?"

He starts off softly, a recognizable riff reverberating within the walls of his dark-lit room, and the notes are barely audible over the buzzing of the air conditioner. His eyes cast down to watch the movement of his fingers, head bobbing slightly to tone-less notes and foot tapping leisurely to the rhythm. You watch. Your eyes focus on his face, then fall to his dexterous hands, then back up to his face. Was he always this sexy? It takes you a moment to realize he had stopped playing, wrist relaxing and eyes following your own.

"'Smoke on the Water?' Really?" You snort at him with an incredulous look on your face and he frowns in return, his lower lip jutting out in an offended pout.

"What? You said easy to play. Besides, it'd sound better if I play it plugged, but somebody would have a problem with that."

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Then you burst into a fit of laughter, causing him to subconsciously replace his own pout with a smile that mirrors your own. He's so lost in every wave of your hand and shake of your shoulders that it takes him a second to register what you say a few seconds later as your giggles die down.

"You're cute. Like, really cute."

You're going to kill him.

"Ah, y-you too.." Great. How fucking lame, pathetic even. Did he really just say that?

"Teach me guitar... Mr. You Too." You say a little too breathlessly, a sweet lilt to your pretty voice that has blood rushing to places he'd rather it didn't. But god, was he supposed to just ignore the way you were looking at him right now? The way your arms squeezed those perfect tits of yours together over the thin silk of your sleepwear? The soft flesh of your thighs spilling past your tiny shorts? How was he supposed to foc—

"Sure." Swirling thoughts and rushing blood are set aside. He rises to his feet, taking a step toward your sitting figure and meekly handing you his guitar, something incredibly surprising in and of itself, because typically hell would break loose if a soul dared touch his guitar, but it was you. And he liked you. So damn much it almost hurt.

You take it from his hands, fingers brushing against his own. Awkwardly, you try to adjust the startlingly heavy instrument within your arms, struggling to set it at the right angle, huffing and puffing to yourself as Choso does nothing but watch you with a lazy snicker in your state of distress, and when you finally manage on your own, the notes come out far from what you had expected, deepening the frown on your face. Choso thinks you look adorable when you're mad, but he's not so cruel, so he senses your distaste at the muffled notes and plugs the guitar into the amp for you. His lips curl into a little smile as he watches your face light up.

"Woah! How does it literally sound so different?" You gawk in excitement at the rich timbre of crunchy notes.

"Trippy as fuck, isn't it?"

You hum in acknowledgement and rack your brain for the right notes to play. Which string was D again? More frowning. More pouting, and Choso remains unmoving, too fixated on your cute expressions to do anything.

He feels bad. Eventually.

"Here, let me help you." Gruff voice reassures you softly as he makes his way behind your chair, hunching forward, breath fanning against your cheek, and fingers planted over your own, so very gently guiding you to the needed fret. The distinct scent of cedar wood and whisky floods your senses and fuck, you don't even want to play anymore. You want him. All of him. Maybe if you just—

"Choso..."

"Hmm?"

You're not even sure what came over you, but your head is suddenly void of reason when you turn your face to his and crash your lips on his own. So soft. This is what you were missing? Fuck it, there's no time to be embarrassed of your boldness-out of the blue, not when he returns your kiss with as much fervor, lips melding with your own and tongue eagerly swiping over yours, and definitely not when he’s picking you up and throwing you on his bed, climbing right after you and situating you on his lap. Guitar lays forgotten as it haphazardly rests on the chair across the room. His thoughts are all of you, and you of him.

"This okay?" He mutters quietly, like he was embarrassed, cheeks flushed as he seeks permission to place his hands on your hips. You smile down at him, wordlessly placing your hands over his rough ones and guiding them to your curves. How could a man looking so strong be this gentle?

Before he could say anything more, your lips are on his again, tongue sucking on his own and fingers entangled in tousled strands of jet black hair, hips grinding frantically against his lap, feeling him harden under you with every delicate roll of your hips.

"Mmph.." He groans softly into the kiss, grip tightening impossibly on your hips as he guides your movements. Up, down. Left, right. Fuck, he's wanted this for so long he might cum in his pants from this alone. That won't do. What would you think then? He's got to hold out, he's got to—

"sh-shit." Pulling away from those glossy lips of yours, he buries his face in your neck, breath ragged and hands halting your grinding hips. You were so lost in your feels that it took you a second to put two and two together, glancing down and seeing the object of his distress; A dark patch of precum staining his sweats. What a development.

"So worked up just from this? You're so cute." You coo at him so sweetly, so softly he thinks he might just lose his mind, and your hands find his pretty, blushing face, gingerly cupping his cheeks to place a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and trailing down to his jaw. You nip and suck on his skin, sloppy kisses peppered along his jaw and down the junction of his neck and shoulder, a hand reaching under his shirt to brush against his abdomen, and just as he thought his heart couldn't race any faster, he could feel it vigorously thump against his ribs with the tickle of your breath against his earlobe.

"Just... let me. Wanna make you cum all pretty for me." You whisper so tenderly against his skin when your hand reached for the waistband of his sweats only for him to block it with a grip to your wrist, too flustered to have you see him that way. But, god, with the way your voice drips with honey, your soft fingers dance along the skin of his stomach, your warm breath teases his cheek, he's got no choice but to hand himself over to you. Let you have him whichever way you pleased. Make him feel good.

His grip around your wrist loosens and his hand rises back up to your waist. He's biting his lip, eyes so dazed already and you haven't even done anything yet. You search his features for any signs of discomfort, finding none and taking it as invitation to go further. You slowly reach into his sweats, palming him through his boxers and grazing your nails over his thighs. So agonizing.

"Please..." Choso whimpers, desperate, soft, and fucking hell, it's your turn to cover your face, a surge of electricity traveling up your spine from his voice alone. You don't respond, your actions speaking for themselves as you pull his twitching cock from within its confines and give it a few experimental pumps, slowly circling your thumb over his slit and smearing precum along the rest of his length. His breath hitches at the contact, tip so wet and sensitive as arousal dribbles down his cock in a shiny stream.

"You're so perfect like this. Doing so good for me, Cho..."

Stop it.

"You're gonna kill me if you keep saying shit like that..." He hisses so faintly you barely catch it, and brings his forehead to rest on your shoulder as your hand sets a rhythmic pace around his cock, twisting around the base when you glide down and the tip when you glide back up. At least if you couldn't see his face and him yours, he'll last longer. Maybe.

"Do you like it though?"

Of course he likes it. What kind of question even was that? Could you not see the way he involuntarily bucked into your hand with every word of praise you gave him? How a brilliant blush crept up his cheeks as you called him cute that first time around? How he could barely keep himself upright just now? But he tells you none of those things, instead, he nods against your shoulder, eyes closed and hands brushing up your waist so gently you almost melt into his arms.

"Yeah, keep talking—fuck, j-just keep talking."

And you do just that, dipping to suck on the exposed side of his thick neck as you murmur every honeyed word you could muster. "You like it, huh? Look at you bucking into my hand all pretty. Makin' me wet with all those sounds you're making." And fuck, he groans so loudly in acknowledgement, hips jerking upward to meet your strokes like a bitch in heat. You pump him as expertly as you've been doing this entire time, deft hand relentlessly gliding up and down, determined to make him cum all over you, to give you what you've been craving for as long as you could remember, because fuck was he so pretty like this, black strands damp with sweat as they stuck to his face, body shuddering with each and every touch of your hands, lips parted and his breath fanning against your shoulder, flush reaching all the way down to his neck. Hell. You might be the one to cum untouched after all.

"I-if you keep this up m'gonna—fuck..m'gonna cum."

You don't stop.

"Then cum. Wanna see your face when you do though. Wanna see how good it feels, Cho." You murmur desperately against the side of his neck, his face still nuzzled in your shoulder, but your tender coaxing drives him to meet your gaze, lips parted and breath picking up as his chest rises and falls in tandem with his jerking hips. His eyebrows furrow, his head falls back, he bucks violently into your hand, a throaty groan tumbles past his lips and he grips your hips so hard you're positive it'll leave a bruise.

"Oh fuckfuckfuck c-cumming..." He babbles frantically, so lost in the feeling and you stroke him vigorously through his high, watching as his cock twitches and a string of thick white shoots past your hand, painting your fingers and the hem of his black shirt porcelain. Delicately, your movements slow down, eyes not leaving his face for a single second, though he's too busy attempting to recompose himself to notice your relentless gaze.

"You did so good." You finally coo at him softly.

"Whatever." He murmurs, averting his eyes as fast as they met your own and covering his face with the back of his hand, post-nut clarity finally hitting him like a truck.

"Don't be like that!" You stifle a giggle and swat his arm, watching as he refuses to look at you like some teenager touching a girl for the first time, and you lean over him, gingerly bringing his face in your hands.

"Hi." You grin down at him, your hair tickling his face and giving him a good reason to close his eyes, avoiding your gaze even further.

"Hey."

"By the way, I have a question that's been eating me up for ages."

"What is it?" His curiosity piques, eyes finally meeting your own.

"Why do you always show up to games when you look half-asleep and bored out of your mind every single time?"

He eyes you incredulously. Out of all the things you could've asked at a time like this...

"Ah, my little brother is on the team. I've gotta be there for him somehow."

You're squeaking and giddily bouncing in his lap and he thinks you've gone crazy, staring blankly at you as you bring your hands to squish at his cheeks yet again. "That's so adorable! You're so adorable! Who is it? It's Yuji isn't it? I knew it! I somehow did. I'm so sure it is!"

"Whatefuh you shay, and yeah. Can you let go of m'face now."

"Right! Sorry--" You let his cheeks fall back into place and begin to rise from his lap, but he holds you back down with a firm grip to your waist.

"Where're you goin'? You didn't get to cum." He drawls, raspy voice hitting you right in your core as he leans closer, lips brushing against your own as he speaks again. "I'll make it up to you... 'Just let me.' "

Fine, you'll just let him then...

@kimhargreeves

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso kamo #kinktober 2023 #choso jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #choso x female reader #choso smut #I'm crazy why is this 4k something words

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wanderingtycho · 1 year

Text

For the longest time in Disco Elysium, I couldn’t figure out why Empathy was the stat chosen to represent Moralism, the other political stats made more sense to me.

Rhetoric is Communism, constantly arguing for you and dismantling the arguments of others, choosing to feel smart and miserable over acknowledging your hopelessness under capital.

Endurance is Fascism, purely physical, purely reactionary. No intellectual angle and not the emotions of your mind, but of your gut. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling of your insides telling you that everything sucks in your life because of *them*.

Libertarianism is Savoir Faire, the slimy show off stat, the ooze and groove and grinding of a real hustler. The kind of mentality that leads a terminally poor cop to walk around the most destitute ghetto in the city bragging about his net worth and his visionary money manifesting, to which normal people rightfully treat you as if you’re insane.

All well and good, all tracks, but then there’s Moralism, the political center, the Kingdom of Conscience. The stat for this would seem plainly obvious, Volition, right? The self control stat, the stat of temperance and rationality and measured action. The boring stat. Hell, Volition is the one who chimes in approvingly when you try on the Moralist pants. It seems like a perfect fit, but no, the stat for Moralism is Empathy.

Empathy, the stat that lets you, even forces you to feel for others. To reach them at their level, cut through to the source of all their feelings, the Superego. What does any of that have to do with Moralism? With slow, incremental progress and La Responsabilité?

At first, I thought it might have been an oversight, one Psyche skill swapped with another. Then I thought maybe it was meant as a subtly pro-moralist statement, that extreme political ideologies make it harder to connect with others, and being more “sensible” politically makes you more relatable. But that doesn’t really gel with the games stance on centrism, which is decidedly not positive, with the Moralist International depicted as a cold and dehumanizing force of oppression.

It didn’t make sense until I completed the Moralist political vision quest, which is by far my favorite out of all four. With Harry on top of the statue of Frissel III, begging and pleading with Coalition Warship Archer, it’s an Empathy check you have to pass to make the faceless drone on the other side of the radio see you. Hear you, acknowledge you as a person who is suffering, acknowledge the suffering of Martinase and Revachol under the unfeeling negligence of the Moralintern.

That’s when it hit me, Empathy is the Moralist stat because it taps into a universal human experience. Most people don’t have consistent political beliefs, even those ascribing themselves to more radical points on the spectrum. Most people have a complicated relationship with faith. But that moment of Harry on the statue, shouting desperately at a dreary sky for someone to please do something about this, that moment is empathetic to us all.

Regardless of political leanings, whether secular or spiritual, that gnawing existential dread is consistent. The world keeps getting worse and worse, and nobody with any power seems to care, every day we’re met with the silence of God and the silence of Capital. That’s why Empathy was chosen to embody Moralism, to recognize that deep down we’ve all felt that anxious longing. To look up at the sky and hope that something, someone. Anything, anyone, would please just listen and hear. Please just do something about this.

#disco elysium

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bluecollarmcandtf · 6 months

Text

Ruining his Night

Jamie left everything on the field that night, and it paid off. His team celebrated the win inside the locker room with jovial claps on the back and cries of triumph. It was impossible for the other team to ignore the shouting as they filed on their bus, already resigned to a sad silence for the long ride back home.

However, no one was quiet in the locker room. The home team was far too pumped from the success of the night.

"Now that's how you play football, boys!" Jamie cried to his team, "You think those twinks are celebrating anything tonight?"

"No!" everyone shouted back in unison.

"You think we have something to celebrate, boys?" Jamie's smile beamed at his teammates.

"Yes!" they roared.

Jamie's grin didn't falter as he showered and dried up. He and the rest of the players were already planning the biggest rager the college had ever seen. The word was already out, and their fans were already setting everything up.

Jamie slipped a clean T-shirt over his head. He was finally done changing, but something felt off. A strange fog fell over his thoughts.

His victorious smile faltered.

"Yo, Jamie?" a teammate asked, "You good?"

"Yes," Jamie answered flatly.

All emotion seemed to disappear from his face. It was like he'd completely dissociated from his surroundings. The victory didn't even seem to register on his face anymore.

"What the hell, dude. Liven up!" another jock chimed in, "We just won for God's sake! I thought you were ready to party!"

Jamie didn't seem to listen. His face remained unexcited, and his eyes seemed to glaze over. He was like an entirely different person from the man who was gloating in success a few moments earlier.

"I can't go to the party," Jamie suddenly broke his silence.

"What the hell!" his friends scoffed in disbelief, "What do you mean you can't go? We have to celebrate, right?"

"I have plans," Jamie responded apathetically.

The football players couldn't believe their star quarterback. Jamie had just won the game and psyched the team up for a party, and now he wanted to bail? It didn't make sense.

Jamie was set. He left his team and abandoned the locker room, ignoring his perplexed teammates. Jamie pushed out the door and into the cold night, marching past his parked car. He trudged several blocks in the opposite direction of the house party.

Jamie turned into a neighborhood he'd never been in before; he walked right up to a house he'd never visited before; and he knocked on a door he'd never seen in his life. He had no reason to be here, but none of this seemed to bother him in the slightest.

The door swung open and, robotically, Jamie relayed, "Quarterback Jamie is reporting for duty."

The scrawny guy inside grinned maniacally at the athlete standing in the cold. He seemed utterly dumbfounded by both Jamie's presence and his words.

"Oh my God, guys!" the boy screeched, "He actually came!"

Jamie was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the house. The quarterback allowed himself to be dragged into a messy living room where several nerdy men were sat around a table playing some sort of board game.

"Look," the boy who answered the door whined, "The hypnosis actually worked! And he even said the line!"

"No way!" one of them gasped.

"Jamie," he slapped the quarterback on the back of the head, "Say it again."

Again, in the same monotone voice, Jamie relayed, "Quarterback Jamie is reporting for duty."

The nerds sent their seats flying as they fumbled out of their chairs. Jamie stood there and stared ahead while the impish geeks admired his superior form, eagerly feeling the thick flesh beneath his small muscle-T. He didn't mind having so many hands travelling all over his body. They pinched his nipples, groped his butt, and even explored his crotch, but he just stood there and waited to be told what to do.

That was what he'd been programmed to do.

Jamie stood there for the rest of the night, wearing nothing but a bowtie and apron. He was commanded to fetch the drinks and hold them like a "Good Little Seltzer Boy." That was what the geeks called him. They quickly became engrossed in their Dungeons and Dragons campaign, occasionally turning to Jamie and grabbing a drink from his tray or copping a feel of his muscles.

Jamie didn't mind. His phone was going off like crazy. All his teammates and friends were wondering why he wasn't at the party, but one of the geeks quickly silenced the device and tossed it in the corner.

"Jamie is ours tonight," he giggled, "Aren't you, Seltzer Boy?"

"Yes," Jamie answered numbly.

"There's nowhere you'd rather be, right?"

"No," Jamie said.

But Jamie wasn't really answering. He wasn't really thinking at all. One of those geeks was a waterboy on the football team and had been slowly hypnotizing the star quarterback in secret. Jamie had ultimately fallen under trance and received programming to report to the nerd's house after the football game.

Once the match ended, his mind couldn't do anything but go blank and obey.

Jamie continued to serve drinks late into the night. The nerds continued to take advantage of the quarterback's presence, ordering him to fetch more seltzers from the nearest liquor store. Jamie subsequently marched several more blocks through the cold and loaded several cases of the fruity drink on the check out station.

"Aren't you the quarterback," the store-owner commented, "Is this really the stuff you drink?"

"Yes," Jamie answered mindlessly, and then handed over all the cash in his wallet.

The nerds were overjoyed to see the jock lugging back as many cases of their favorite drink as he could carry. They became more brazen with him as they got more drunk.

Jamie began rotating between massaging the shoulders and feet of different D&D players as they demanded it. He was completely indifferent when one of them ordered him to massage the more intimate area between their legs. Jamie didn't mind.

"Who cares about this game," one of them finally tossed the board aside, "Jamie, get over here."

Jamie was already kneeling on the floor to massage somebody else's crotch, so he proceeded to turn and crawl over to the speaker, completely ignorant to the fact that his apron left his muscled rear completely exposed for the rest of them to gape at.

The players forgot all about their campaign, devolving into a band of horny brats with a mindless jock at their whim. Jamie couldn't be more unbothered by the different ways the nerds bossed him around. His mind knew his body was theirs to use.

By morning, he'd be made to clean everything up and forget. He'd tell his friends he got drunk at a different party though he had no memory of any of it. Needless to say, Jamie's night of triumph had been thoroughly ruined.

"Will you at least go out with us tonight?" a fellow jock asked.

Jamie shook his head as a familiar blankness washed over his face, "I have plans."

#gay hypnosis #mind control #hypno story #gay mind control #hypnotized #servant #gay ai art

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otdiaftg · 19 days

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The King's Men - Chapter Sixteen (18)

Day: Friday, April 5th / 6th* Time: 7:40 PM PST

Jeremy holds a folded piece of paper up. Instead of taking it Kevin walks him back to the Foxes. Jeremy turns it over to Wymack, who unfolds it and skims the printed list. "Our line-up," Jeremy explains. "It's late to be getting it to you, I know, but we were trying to avoid as much of a backlash as possible." "Backlash?" Dan asks. Wymack hands her the sheet and watches her face go white. When she looks up at him again Wymack shakes his head and turns on Jeremy. "Your pity's a little misplaced. Tell Coach Rhemann we don't want handouts." "This isn't pity," Jeremy says. "We're doing this for us, not you. Your success this year has us rethinking everything about how we play. Are we second because we're talented or because we have twenty-eight people on our line-up? Are we good enough as individuals to stand against you? We have to know." Kevin snatches the paper from Dan's hands and looks at it. Matt leans over his shoulder to see and says, "You're joking. You're joking. You're not?" he asks with an incredulous look at Jeremy. Allison yanks hard on his sleeve, wanting an explanation, so Matt says, "There are only nine names on it." "Two goalies, three backliners, two dealers, two strikers," Jeremy says. "You've made it this far with those numbers. It's time to see how we'd fare in that situation. I'm excited," he says, with another toothy smile. "None of us have ever played a full game before. Hell, most of us don't even play full halves anymore. We don't have to because the numbers are always in our favor." "And you called me a crazy fool," Kevin says. "You'll lose tonight if you play like this." "Maybe," Jeremy agrees, unconcerned. "Maybe not. Should be fun either way, right? I don't remember the last time I was this psyched for a game. Look at this." He holds his hands out to them and laughs. "Bring it, Foxes, and we'll bring it too." He leaves them staring after him, his head high and his smile honest.

Art used with permission by Rainbowd00dles. Thank you @rainbowd00dles!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

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daytaker · 2 months

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The Demon Brothers React to Watching a Horror Movie with You

CW: discussion of gore (Satan)

I didn’t include the dateables in this one but if people want that, y’know…let me know.

Lucifer

"You frighten yourself... intentionally? Interesting."

He fails to see the appeal, quite frankly.

Not only does he not find them scary, he doesn't understand why you watch them if you do.

He's too used to playing the babysitter to take you grabbing his hand as an excuse for physical contact. He interprets it as you tapping out, so he'll pause the movie and give you an out.

Of course, if you insist on finishing the movie regardless, that's an interesting choice in and of itself.

What an opportunity to observe a tortured human psyche at work.

If you insist on holding hands at this point, he won't fight it. He is a bit more dubious than before, though. Are you really doing this because you're scared? You wouldn't happen to have any ulterior motives, would you?

He will gladly reassure you after the movie is over that you are always welcome to come to him for comfort if you're afraid in the middle of the night. You know where his room is.

Mammon

"Just so we’re clear, I ain’t afraid of no horror movies. Not even a little! Not even a teensy-tiny bit, all right? Like, seriously."

He's lying.

This isn't even headcanon stuff, this is just common knowledge.

Also common knowledge: he will insist on proving how cool and brave he is by watching a horror movie with you and protecting you from the monsters and gore onscrEEAAAUUUUGH???!!!

He wasn't scared, he was just startled.

And he's only up here on the lights fixture because he remembered one bulb was flickering earlier. There. He fixed it. He's just being responsible.

Anyway, if you're nervous and want to hold his hand, he understands. Humans are fragile as hell.

In fact, you don't need to stop at hand-holding. You can just hug hiMYEEAAGH!!!!

He's hugging you instead. He's being a good demon and taking care of his human.

Yes, he's in your lap. He thought you'd feel more secure that way.

Stop laughing!

Leviathan

"So I read that the film set for this movie was cursed by a mangaka who never got credit as an influence for the story..."

Time for some J-horror, obviously.

He read up extensively on the production before asking you to watch it with him. He figures he'll be less terrified if he has plenty of background knowledge about the film as an artistic piece to remind him that the happenings onscreen aren't real.

Instead he found a bunch of rumors about how the movie was cursed. But he'd already poured so much of his valuable time into researching it. Sunk cost fallacy: activated! You're watching this damn movie.

He's scared. He's so embarrassed to be this scared but he's scared.

When he's by himself, he doesn't mind that he spooks easily. He likes it. That's the fun of horror games and movies.

But with you here, he feels the pressure to be your emotional rock during the harrowing film-viewing process.

You can hold his hand. You know, if you want to. He gets it if that idea grosses you out, but he did wash his hands right before you got here, so...

If he gets too scared, the demon form comes out, and suddenly you have a scaly tail wrapped around your waist and webbed fingers clutching you.

He's sorry, it's just... It just happens sometimes, okay? Laugh it up, normie!

Actually, it feels kind of nice when you stroke his scales like that. If you really want to, you don't have to stop.

He is no longer watching the movie.

Satan

"This is an extremely unrealistic depiction of decapitation with a hacksaw."

There is nothing less scary than watching a horror movie with Satan, because his smart ass can't stop telling you about everything wrong with it.

The movie is starting. Are you nervous? He'll hold your hand. He has enough basic sense to at least get that part of the process right.

...That's not even close to how it looks when you disembowel a deer.

There's a lot more blood spatter than you'd expect when head wounds are involved. Apparently the special effects crew on this movie didn't do their due diligence.

Hmm, that's actually a pretty convincing amputation scene. Credit where credit is due.

Sorry, but he thinks that calling this one a "psychological thriller" is giving it a little too much credit.

Asmodeus

"Nooo! Ahhh, I can't take it, it's so scaryyy!"

He's not scared. Not even a little.

He's not even grossed out.

But he thinks that seeming terrified is cuter than seeming mildly amused and a little bored.

So before you start watching, he makes sure to lay down some ground rules.

If he's scared, he gets to hold your hand. If you're scared, you get to hold his hand.

If he's scared, he gets to hug you. If you're scared, you get to hug him.

If nothing scary is happening for more than five minutes, he's allowed to request a kiss. Just to keep you both from getting bored.

Why are sex scenes in slashers so awful? Even before the stabbing starts. They're just so... blah. It's disappointing every time.

Ahhh! There's the killer! He's so scared! He's going to hide his face in your neck and cling to you for dear life!

Beelzebub

"What's wrong? Why do you look so sick?"

Bro will eat nonchalantly through the most brutal and gut-wrenching scenes of gore, entirely unaffected.

And he will.

He will do that, right in front of you, and not even have the decency to understand why you have to go vomit.

He doesn't really get most horror films. But occasionally something will resonate strongly with him and he will become very quiet and potentially fairly upset for awhile.

If something reminds him too much of Lilith or her death, for example.

But even if that happens, he won't stop eating.

Belphegor

"Wake me up if something interesting starts happening."

Another one who is entirely unaffected by horror.

Nothing is more horrifying than living as himself in this fucked up world.

He's very annoyed whenever Mammon or Levi watches anything horror-related because their screaming makes it hard to sleep.

He doesn't mind if you scream though.

He can fall asleep to the sound of you screaming.

Take that however you wish.

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cerastes · 2 months

Note

Do you think at some point early on in Arknights the intent was to be a buildup to a more critical look at Rhodes as more morally grey than it first appears? Because when I started the game I was so sure that's where it was going. Popukar probably being one of the first characters you get, the idea of SWEEP, the understanding I had at the time of darknights doctor and y'know, the villains being who they are. I just thought it would be more of a thing.

I don't think necessarily, I think the intent was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state". I do think it bears mentioning that child soldiers/children and teenagers with a job as a concept don't seem to really carry a stigma as they do in the real world: The only real times in which these are painted in negative lights are when the conditions or results of these decisions end up in something negative:

Popukar was clearly indentured labor at the lumberyard. The part that's condemned is that she was miserable and practically a slave, not really that she was working per se, and she's given a job by RI later after Kal'tsit personally gets her out of there.

Frostleaf's being a child soldier even before Rhodes Island isn't really all that condemned, the effects it had on her psyche is.

Absinthe, just orphaned, is made a Rhodes Island Operator. This notion isn't rejected or truly contested, no more than "maybe we can send her somewhere proper for care". Hell, all the Ursus kids also get made into Operators.

Even outside of this, we hire children frequently: Bubble, Suzuran, Shamare, you name it. Sure, each has a context, especially Shamare who is Fucking Haunted, but the matter of the fact is that Rhodes Island isn't just housing them, it's also showing no real qualms with them taking the Operator Testing Battery and, if they succeed, hiring them. It's mentioned several times that Rhodes Island has many non-combat roles -- Angelina used to be a Messenger for Rhodes Island before taking the Operator test, Orchid was offered a desk job at Rhodes Island initially, and Weedy was a Rhodes Island researcher who explicitly worked out and trained so she could pass the physical components of the test -- but there's no real turn of eyes when a child says mmmm yeah I'll do the Battlefield Supporter Battery please, thank you.

Amiya is, you know, the CEO of Rhodes Island, and that IS pointed out in a "damn, fucked up" way, but what's being lamented is not her having a job, it's her having a BIG difficult job. I think no one would bat an eye if Amiya was a regular Operator under Theresa instead (granted, because she's the owner's daughter, but even without that link).

These are some examples of in-universe logic regarding the whole child soldier and kid with a job. I'd wager it's because life expectancy in Terra is pretty damn low from what we've gathered: Armed conflict, crime, Catastrophes, Oripathy, there's plenty of ways to kick the bucket in Terra, much like it was in Ye Olde Ages in real life, which is coincidentally an era in which by 16 you already were an adult and were expected to start having adult responsibilities.

Pre-Amnesia Doctor was definitely not a stellar person but it's always understood that they weren't bad as much as broken: Scout put it best that it broke his heart to have seen this kind educator and fun, loving individual become a heartless tactician. Even when described this way, though, it wasn't like Doc became this Brooding Evil Mass, it's still mentioned plenty that they were pretty beloved by most people and a person they liked being friends with -- Ace, Scout, and Amiya all corroborate this, and in flashbacks, you have Theresa being pretty warm with Doc -- but if you were a footsoldier, Doctor was probably your worst nightmare because you were disposable -- W, Ines, Hoederer and Flamebringer can tell you as much -- so we had less a villain or a vile individual and more a broken individual who was remolded into someone that could withstand the immense psychological pressure that came with having their role. That's not to sanitize pre-amn Doctor, it's to echo the game's own words on them as per the characters in the setting that knew them from back then, and who held both positive and negative opinions on them.

Looking at all of these from an in-universe lens, they all have coherent in-universe explanations. I also think they would have foreshadowed any sort of Rhodes Island Insiduous Vileness with characters or actions by now: Less than stellar, antagonistic high command, dubious orders to do some vile stuff, other such things. The closest we get to this is Kal'tsit hating Doctor's guts, but also Kal'tsit is a really good person and her hatred of Doctor stems from her knowing them pre-amnesia, seeing how that happened, and what Doc did in those times, particularly one big event that's pretty lore relevant.

You may have noticed the elephant in the room [SPOILERS FOR PEOPLE NOT DONE WITH THE REUNION ARC YET]: I didn't address the enemy part yet. That's because that's the part that I still have some conflicted feelings over: The real enemy, in the end, isn't Reunion's ideals -- which are shared with Rhodes Island -- but rather it's what Reunion has become, a false flag operation for the Ursus Empire to justify a war. On one hand, I like that, on the other, I do think it's something that should've been more graciously hinted at in the very early chapters, because in those very early chapters, you REALLY are rent-a-cops in essence, putting down the people you set out to help. Of course, it's not that simple and there's a nuance as to why and the business dealings and all that, but given the relative simplicity and pace of the early chapters, it really is easy to see it come across that way.

It does, however, ring consistent with what we were previously talking about, though: The essence of, more than the act or thing in itself. Or, in other words, in Terra, the onus of things seem to be placed on the result or context surrounding something more than that something in itself: Child soldiers are fine, unhappy and in-risk child soldiers are not. Teenagers with jobs are fine, teenagers with huge stressful jobs way out of their league are not. Revolutionary movements are fine, revolutionary movements with civilian casualties are not. And so on. There is DEFINITELY commentary that can be had about this, mind you, but that can be for another post in another blog.

With this in mind, I go back to what was first said in this post, I think the idea was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state".

#arknights

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enkas-illusion · 5 months

Text

Two Can Play a Game

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: suggestive, Gojo being a menace, roommate shenanigans, wingman!Gojo, violent games, friendly banter, geto’s huge fingers…

Chapter Summary: You are stuck with your awful roommates on their Saturday games night. You were ready to be bored to death this weekend but what you were not expecting was being stranded on Geto’s lap by the end of the night.

Author's Notes: gamer!Suguru rotting my mind. Let me know if I should make a part 2! If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment; I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading!

-Nanami's Munchkin

Part 2

Being roommates with Satoru and Suguru was nothing short of an adventure. It always felt like you were taking care of two cats who actually did pay rent but were a pain in the ass to handle.

The tamed one was Suguru, the black cat with black cat energy. Satoru, on the other hand, was worse than the orange cats, a menace, making your life miserable. However, you wouldn't have it any other way – a cat person always loves the little devils immensely, despite the hell they raise.

Saturday nights were game nights for the boys. Usually, Shoko, the fourth person in the house, your white dove of peace between the guys and you was out for the weekend. The dove in question, however, had betrayed you to flock in someone else’s nest so you were left alone with the men-children screaming over a stupid game.

It's true that you don't know what you've got till you don't have it anymore. You think back on all the times you open a bottle of wine, enjoy a smoke on the balcony, and share the gossip of the week with Shoko.

You weighed your options – scrolling through reels while silently drinking your wine while pretending you don't exist would be a lot easier than spending the night witnessing your two roommates behave like toddlers.

So you did just that, flopped down on the armchair scrolling through feed, sipping your wine quietly. You'd downed more than half the bottle before boredom hit, causing you to look up at the TV to see what Suguru and Satoru were up to.

The amount of fun they were having playing a violent and gory game made you cringe. For them, this was no less wholesome than a fluffy princess ride at DisneyLand.

“Seriously guys, is this fun to you? You just go around killing people!” Ideally, it'd be better to let it slide without the unnecessary commentary, but this is far from ideal so you let the boredom and booze speak for you.

“Oh and Genshin is not violent at all!! Sweet little Hillichurls getting hit by a meteorite just for existing is fun, right?” Satoru mocks back in an instant without taking his eyes off the game.

“I don’t think you know Hillichurls to be calling them sweet and little,” you argue, offended that your favorite game was dragged into the conversation.

This time Suguru replies,”Maybe you are just salty because you don’t know how to use a console.”

Taking full offense, you challenge, “I would've learnt it ages ago if I wanted to…”

“What's stopping you? That way you can play your precious Genshin on the console as well. It will be fun. Then we can all have a game night.” Suguru's tone is condescending but you understand him well enough to know when to take the bait.

“Hard pass! No way I wanna play with you both. It would only make my hair whiter than this dumbass.” You say pointing at Satoru.

“Huh! The feeling's mutual darling. I’m not psyched about you ruining our sacred games night. Also, you might finally start to look a bit attractive with hair like mine.”

Satoru’s comment ticks you off, you know better than to let it get to you but you're too far gone to think straight now. So you put down your wine glass as you stomp to where they're sitting, ripping out the console from Suguru, settling in the tiny space between the two manspreading, “You’re on, bitch!”

“You really think you can beat me?” Satoru looks amused, Suguru has a similar look on his face.

“Just shut the fuck up and start.”

As the game starts, you realize how dumb this decision was – you'd walked right into the trap. Not only do you not know how to use the console, you don’t even know what this game was and what you needed to do.

“I’m going to find youuu~~” Satoru says in a creepy singsong voice that makes you shriek as you try to run in the game.

Suguru just lies back on the sofa laughing at both your antics. No matter how much you tried to believe the cat analogy exclusively applied to the two, everyone knew you were one too.

“Found you!” Satoru squeals as you nevertheless try to hide and fail miserably. And before you know it, your screen turns red with the words DEFEATED on it.

You pout at Satoru and he says, “Aww, that was no fun. Let me heal you so we can go again.”

“Really! You can do that?” You ask, looking up to him with glittering eyes.

“Satoru!” you hear Suguru suddenly scold, causing you to stare at him with confusion. And before you can ask what was wrong, you hear a few more gunshots from the game. Satoru, being the absolute worst, continues to shoot your already dead character.

‘SatoruAlmighty_89 WINS’ the screen displays.

“Suguru! Satoru is so mean!” You look at Suguru with those puppy eyes that you know makes him melt. Your final trump card, given that he may or may not have called that look adorable in the past.

“‘Toru, your name doesn’t really look that well on top of the leaderboard… kind of used to seeing my own.” Suguru pokes at his best friend just to rile him up.

“Bitch please… Do you wanna go again?” Satoru takes the bait.

“Nope. Not me… her.” he says, tilting his head in your direction.

“Hmm?” you simply give him a confused look. But before you can decipher the meaning behind his words, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you to him in one swift motion till you’re sitting on his lap. Your face turns hot as you quickly slide down to adjust between his parted thighs instead – trying to keep the atmosphere pg-13, what with Satoru in the room.

Suguru, on the other hand, couldn’t care less – he leans forward till his chest is flush against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. His huge arms wrap around you, enveloping you into him as they hold the console in front of you.

“Okay, let’s defeat him, shall we?” he whispers sweetly in your ear, “Let me take it from here.” you feel his hot breath behind your ear, making you blush harder than a rose.

Satoru gives you both a disgusted look, “Ugh… get a room!”

“Somebody’s bitchless.” you tease Satoru. It wasn’t hard to sense the sexual tension that had always lingered in the back ever since you had started living together with Suguru – sure, you had two other roommates but you never wanted to tear the others’ clothes off in a fervor. Shoko had once teased you that ‘if one could try cutting the sexual tension with a knife, the knife would grow blunt due to how thick it was.’

As you’re laughing at the now-pouting Satoru, you twist your neck to look back at Suguru, giving him a big grin that makes his heart do summersaults.

Suguru’s fingers encompass your dainty ones as he guides them to the console. As the guys start playing the match, you move your fingers to the side of the device, letting Suguru take control as his fingers rapidly slam and rotate the buttons. You can’t look away from his hands even when the game begins. His fingers look so sexy moving around the console that you can’t help but imagine how they would feel on you.

“Pay attention to the game, sweetheart.” he whispers into your ear. His words catch you off-guard as your eyes shoot up to the screen, embarrassed that he’d caught you staring. His comment puts you into a deeper daze but you shake it off to focus on the screen, still you find your mind wandering, barely caring about the game.

He’s so into the game that his chest often presses against you as he tries leaning forward when a battle gets too intense. At one such moment, before you can talk yourself out of it, you shift your hips back ever so slightly to press against his crotch. You swear you feel his otherwise restless movements still for a split-second but he doesn’t let his composure falter since he had a match to win.

Suguru actually manages to win as his name makes it back on top of the leaderboard. You cheer out loud and turn around to hug Suguru, but not before tilting your head to blow raspberries at Satoru.

“What are you… like five?” Satoru complains. You simply bring your hand up to do a blah-blah gesture, rolling your eyes at him dramatically.

“It’s not fair! It was two vs one.” Satoru pouts.

“Go cry about it somewhere else. A win is a win!” you tease him further.

Satoru gets up from his place and walks off saying, “I anyway don’t play with cheaters.”

If you weren’t reeling in the high from your win and laughing at Satoru’s antics, you would have noticed the wink he gave to Suguru before retiring to his room.

You’re still laughing as you watch him go back to his room and shut the door behind him with a ‘night, cheaters!’

When it gets quiet, you suddenly become super aware of the way you’re still perched comfortably in Suguru's lap.

“You need to actually teach me how to use this thing.” You say as you try to break the impenetrable tension, fumbling with the console before tossing it on the sofa, beginning to get up.

Before you can move any further, you’re pulled right back into Sugurus lap as you let out a tiny squeal at the unexpected move. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his clearly evident boner, hard against you.

“Did you really think I'd let you off so easily after you pulled that little stunt during the game?”

#nanamismunchkin #jjk x reader #jjk x you #erensbirdie #jujutsukaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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