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1-800-kami · 3 months

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how to (properly) make tomato soup | gojo satoru

.. it’s three pm, you’re sick, and satoru takes it upon himself to take care of you (except there’s one problem: he does not possess any shred of culinary ability whatsoever).

content: 1.7k words, no explicit gender mention but pet names like angel and baby are used, gojo being silly while geto is absolutely done w his bullshit, reader has a migraine, mainly a self indulgent comfort/crack fic

when you feel the pounding in your ears again, tears start to form in your eyes. fuck, you just can’t help it.

you’re tired. so tired of the constant headaches–the migraines that plague your days and make staying awake completely unbearable.

the familiar ache settles in, but you can tell that this time, it’s much worse than usual. the nauseating pressure that can be described as thousands of needles pricking the back of your eyes, the blinding light in the room that’s assaulting your vision, the overwhelming sounds around you that are so intense to the point where you want to do nothing but cry.

so… that’s exactly what you do.

you succumb to the pain, letting out a choked sob that arguably just makes everything worse. tears slowly make their way down your cheeks, and you put your head in your hands to simultaneously muffle your cries and shield yourself from the light around you. you want to turn off the light. your head screams at you to turn off the light, but you’re so dizzy that you can barely even move.

“y/n?”

the first call of your name barely registers amidst the ringing in your ears. you hear it when your name is said a second time, though, and you feel yourself coming back to your surroundings.

he’s… here.

your boyfriend, satoru. yeah, he’s here.

head still buried in your hands, you carefully move one of your fingers to peek at him. he’s crouched down in front of you, a look of concern on his face. he’s saying something…

“where does it hurt, baby?” you’re still so stunned that you can’t find the strength in you to speak. so you close your eyes and point to the area where it hurts the most, sniffling. “is it okay if i massage that area, angel?”

throughout the midst of all your pain and tears, your heart manages to swell. it swells for satoru, because he’s here–he’s present, and he cares about you.

you manage out a small nod, eyes still shut. you let out a shaky breath—a breath that you just found out you were holding, since everything hurt so much that you forgot to breathe.

satoru massages your temples gently, even making an effort to softly wipe the tears off of your face. he feels your forehead with the back of his hand and frowns at your temperature. you’re starting to burn up. “s more than a headache, baby. i’m gonna take you to the bed, okay?”

this was going to be a long afternoon.

he carries you bridal style to your bedroom and gently places you on the mattress. he turns off the lights and draws the blinds shut, providing a welcome respite from the sensory assault just moments ago. you exhale a sigh of relief, slowly opening your eyes as you wipe the dried tears off your face. he climbs into the bed with you, and you instinctively cling to him for support as you wrap your arms around his neck. it hurts. everything hurts, but satoru’s presence makes it slightly more bearable. “my poor angel. have you been overworking yourself lately?”

you bury your face in his neck, finding comfort in being close to your boyfriend. he presses a feather-light kiss on your forehead, and it makes you want to cry again. “maybe. the headaches are getting worse.”

“you should take it easier on yourself. i can’t have you cryin’ like this. not on my watch,” he remarks, making sure to keep his voice low as not to overwhelm you. “y’know, if your migraines were a person, i’d make sure to hollow purple ‘em. no hesitation.”

a soft laugh escapes you, but you regret it almost immediately as it just intensifies the pain. he lets out an apology, but you just huff.

you close your eyes again, exhaustion taking over as your eyelids grow heavier. satoru slowly releases himself from your vice grip, much to your chagrin. you try and weakly protest, but he just shushes you gently. “just go to sleep, baby. i’ll be right back, okay? when was the last time you ate?”

“hm… i remember having a little bit of breakfast when i woke up-”

“alright.” he says, making a mental note that he should make food. “i’m going to go make you something, okay? i promise i’ll be back soon.”

“...don’t burn down the kitchen, please.”

“i can’t promise that, though.”

“you found the soup packet? okay, finally. now you just turn on the stove…”

satoru’s a little embarrassed to say that he doesn’t know how to cook.

growing up, he’s had practically everything served to him on a silver platter, so he never had to worry about making his own food. and frankly, despite your statement earlier being a joke, he is genuinely afraid to burn the house down. so, he has his best friend suguru on a video call right now, teaching him–gojo satoru, a twenty-eight-year-old man–how to make instant soup.

“the stove?”

“yeah…? don’t tell me you don’t know-”

“-no, no. i know how to turn the stove on. of course i do.” it feels like he’s trying to convince himself more than suguru. the camera shows satoru in his kitchen, sweating profusely and glaring at the stove like it’s his biggest enemy. satoru has fought countless curses in his life, has had near-death experiences multiple times, and even faced the king of curses himself, but he thinks that everything pales in comparison to this task. he tries to turn the knob, but it won’t budge. “what the hell?-“

“satoru-” it seems like the azure-eyed man doesn’t hear him as he keeps trying to turn on the stove (suguru swears he hears him muttering the phrase “with this treasure i summon”, but that’s not even his technique). he can’t help but facepalm for the hundredth time during the duration of this call. “satoru!”

he finally gets his attention, and satoru looks at his phone and sees geto with a look that screams “are you fucking kidding me?”—or really, just a look of utter disappointment. “you’re turning the stove the wrong way.”

“...”

he turns the knob the opposite way, and the burner sets ablaze instantly.

“oh, yeah… um, i definitely knew that.”

“satoru, how do you survive whenever you’re not on a mission?”

“sometimes i think about that too, really. i think it’s because y/n is the one who always cooks.”

“you think i can’t tell already?”

much to both of their surprise, satoru managed to make a pot of tomato soup. it only took him approximately forty-five minutes. satoru seems so proud of himself, meanwhile suguru looks so ready to block his number and never talk to him again.

he pours some of the soup into a bowl, and places it on a tray. he also takes a few painkillers from the medicine cabinet–along with a bottle of water. he thanks suguru for helping him, and is about to hang up but stops short when his best friend freezes. “wait, hold on. did you turn off the stove?”

and after making suguru swear on his life to never speak of this event to you and airing out the house to get rid of the smell of smoke, gojo satoru, “the strongest”, thinks he’s the first ever man to somehow burn a pot full of soup.

“it’s an impressive feat, really.” he claims.

suguru just says that he should never be allowed near a kitchen ever again, and satoru actually finds it in himself to silently agree.

an hour has passed, and he sets the tray on the nightstand, relieved that the past hour of his life is finally over, never wanting to do that ever again. you’re sleeping soundly on the bed, and he almost doesn’t have the heart to wake you up, but he knows that you have to eat something. he turns the nightlight on and gently taps you on the shoulder as you wake up with a stir. “toru? s’that you?”

“it’s me. can you wake up for me, baby? i promise you can sleep again after, but you need to eat.” when you slowly sit up from your sleeping position, he places the tray on your lap and softly coaxes you to eat. you take a spoonful of soup into your mouth, relishing in the flavor as you’re just now realizing how hungry you are.

“this is good,” you say, letting out a smile. the nap helped you come back to your senses a little, and you can finally breathe a little easy now that the pounding in your head has eased. “didn’t know you could make this.”

“yeah, well, you better savor it.” cause i’m never making that again.

when you finish the soup, you swallow a few painkillers while taking a greedy gulp of water from the bottle on the tray.

just in case the pain comes back, you think. though you really, really wish that it wouldn’t.

satoru sets the tray on the nightstand, and you settle back into the covers, wanting to just sleep the rest of the day away. satoru follows not long after, turning off the nightlight and letting out a yawn.

you bury your face in his neck once more, kissing him on the cheek. “thank you, for um—for all of this.”

“s nothing. just promise that you won’t overwork yourself again, okay?” he says, carefully caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“i’ll try not to.”

“hey, you can’t say just that. you have to say, ‘i promise not to overwork myself again, toru. i love you, and thank you for the tomato soup.’” he says while poorly imitating your voice, and you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, okay. i promise not to overwork myself again, love. i love you so, so much.” you say while peppering kisses all over his face, and he’s so glad that the lights are off so that you’re unable to see how his cheeks are beet red. “thank you for taking care of me… and for the soup. it was good.”

and as your eyelids begin to grow heavy once more, satoru thinks that his efforts aren’t in vain after all. because the sight of you, finding comfort in his presence, stirs a little bit of determination from within him. and maybe, just maybe, he’d take it upon himself to learn how to properly cook, not just (partially burnt) instant soup, but a real meal for the next time that you’re feeling like this.

and as he watches your chest rise up and down as you sleep, he can’t help but whisper, “yeah. next time, i’ll make you more than just soup. i’ll cook something special, just for you. ‘nd i won’t burn the pot again, either.”

because for you, satoru would do anything as long as he gets to see you happy. and part of that includes learning how to (properly) make tomato soup… and more.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru comfort #gojo comfort

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loganlermanstanaccount · 9 months

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Rigor Mortis (part 6)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 5, Part 7

summary: Everything unravels. You teach Miguel a lesson.

warnings: soooo much smut. mutual masturbation, grinding, slight femdom, Miguel is a submissive switch cuz I said so, m! masturbation. very very 18+ Minors DNI (ageless blogs will be blocked, thanks!)

a/n: yeah...so. ya.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in your half-hearted hubris,

Miguel is not a jealous man. Jealousy implies something he thought was shed long ago: a second skin of something green-eyed and crooked.

One minute, he's watching you kiss someone else. And when you sigh into it; imperceptibly, but he notices because he always sees these things about you; he's biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood. The guy you danced with, and now your lips are on his. Is… Is that your type? Jun is slender and charming; a pretty boy, through and through . There's a hand on your thigh, he notices, milky white and willowy. It has Miguel looking at his own, rough and tan, the ghost of soft skin and pillowy thighs on his fingertips. The illicit foray of one night, one night with you , and he's second guessing himself.

Insecure.

His hands are rough and calloused. He picks at hangnails, the skin is raw from rubber gloves and mystery chemicals, and knuckles creaky because he cracks them too often. Is that what you like? The kind of thing you touch yourself to; his hands, pawing at flesh. Jun cups your chin, slender fingers pulling you closer, and your own come up to wrap around them. You seem desperate for it, panting and pretty lashes fluttering when you separate.

And you look at Jun like… like he wants you to look at him.

There's blood in his mouth when you finally do. He looks away, quick and furtive, like you've caught him doing something wrong. It's not right or wrong, he supposes, just tripping over a muddle of thoughts – still stuck on the image of your hand on Jun's.

He was a late bloomer, awkwardly proportioned and too tall for his limbs. Clumsy, if you can believe it. He's always been a bit of a bull in a China shop; bulldozing and brutish and still growing into a body that pools at his ankles and is tight around his wrists. Like an ill-fitting suit; the kind he wore to Fernanda's quince, skirting the rental hall with a bottle of j2o. In and out of conversations, tripping and stuttering over words in stiff dress shoes and a waistcoat . Gabi took a lot of photos: peace signs and pointer finger looped into coat pockets.

Point is; he's not felt this way in years . Tongue-tied, hot and cold, heart-pounding. Jun decidedly isn't; able to talk to you like a normal person, making you smile and laugh. Curling fingers into the crest of a wide palm, he digs his nails into the flesh: producing a sting that makes it crystal clear. Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

One minute, he's nursing a warm beer and trying not to take a chunk out the inside of his mouth. The next, he's on the floor of Lyla's living room, blinking up at bright lights.

There's soft hands all over him. Holding his own, cupping his cheek, moving his head this way and that as he tries to focus. He's looking at your pretty lips, pert and pressed into the lean line of a frown. There are… people talking over the other; strained and hushed in a quiet corner.

He recognises Lyla's voice, distinctive despite the ringing in his ears.

"A-All over a drink…. pushing past 'em, Jess…. he threw the first punch…"

~~~

The drive home is terse, air thick with something. Stewing, you've got your arms crossed and head turned to the windows. You're watching the streaky lights of the city zip past, lips pursed. Head on the glass, you're making a point not to turn back or utter a word to Miguel.

"You picked a fight." You swipe a finger on the condensation, finally ready to talk.

He shrugs limply. A beat passes.

"....this is the part where you explain what happened, Miguel."

"I picked a fight."

"...that's it?" Your brows shoot up. "You just… there was no build up? Why? "

"Wanted to give 'em something to bond over in the morning." He deadpans, glancing over to the passenger seat. "Matching black eyes."

You shake your head slightly. "Don't believe you."

You see something flash in his gaze, and then it's gone. He smooths over features, and that Miguel is back: lifeless and blank. Steadfast, he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Okay." He says simply.

"All that Ophelia shit from a couple of weeks ago, and you still won't –" It's under your breath as you clamp down anger. If Miguel hears, he doesn't indicate. "I just want to understand."

He purses his lips. "Nothing to understand. I'm an insecure piece of shit, and I picked a fight. I ruined Jess' birthday, and fucked it up for everyone else. I know. Can we… Can we speed this bit up? I'm exhausted. "

"No-one… I didn't say that." Your voice is hoarse. He's being mean. He's never been all that nice; sarcastic and smug, for sure, but never cruel. It feels spiteful. You're blinking away a hot tear before you can stop it. And then they become angry tears, ones that sting your cheeks on the way down.

You're not good with fights. Never have been. And it's not even the confrontation that scares you, it's the apathy. Sifting through your guts and begging someone to care, when they don't. It's like screaming at a brick wall and expecting the mortar to shift; a pointless exercise in delusion. You'd grown sick of it with Jamie; the hand-waving and the what do you want me to do about it of it all. It's the one thing you've grown to like about Miguel, about all your little fights. He's rarely the bigger person, petty, and able to get down in the shit and stink with you; because, on some small level at least, he gives a fuck. He cares .

You're embarrassed that you even thought he would be any different. Disappointed, but not with him: with yourself for getting caught up in all of this.

You're sniffling, wiping up and flattening out of sheer spite; refusing to let him see how a stupid thing like this affects you. The tears well up in your eyes, hot and blurry and you're focusing on holding yourself together by the seams before you get home.

You don't notice him pull into a side road and park the car. It rolls to a stop, and he's reaching over to the backseat; and pulling out a box of tissues. The box is floral and tissues scented; rosy and sweet in a way you wouldn't expect from him.

When he nudges you with the box, apologetic, you're still not looking at him; not even flicking over to give him a dirty look.

"Chula. " It rolls off his tongue so softly, but you jut your chin in the air. "Please. I'm sorry."

You purse your lips.

"I'm a dick."

"Yep." You manage.

"I picked a fight. I'm an insecure piece of shit–"

"No, no." You're turning back, quickly. "Stop saying that. Why are you saying that?"

He shrugs again, and you flop into your seat. You notice, he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

"Relax , Miguel." You wrap a hand around his, and watch him visibly melt. His gaze softens. "M'not trying to push, I'm sorry."

You take his hand off the wheel, inspecting the purple and blue that spreads across taught skin. His palm is rough, knuckles bony and bruised.

"When we get home–" Home. You sigh, bringing it up to the little car lights. "I've got a first aid kit, somewhere. We need to clean this up, or it might get infec–"

Looking up, you catch Miguel staring , stars in his eyes, and it… it knocks the breath out of your lungs. All of a sudden, you're flustered and letting go of his hand in a hurry.

All he does is nod, starting the car. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling away with a palm on the flat of the wheel. In the light of street lamps, shadow cutting his cheekbones just so. He's beat up, he's tired, but even then; Miguel is so, so pretty.

~~~

You end up in the bathroom, first aid kit splayed on the countertop. He insists on standing, despite a slight limp he tries to downplay, and so you're sitting on the faux marble with Miguel between your legs. Your dress rides up but you're too tired to care, ripping open gauze and tapping disinfectant on a little pad. At least he has the decency to be still and quiet, with his palms on the counter top and kissing bare thigh.

Miguel is tall, still having to bend over when you pat the peak of a split lip; hand on his chin ever so gently.

"Where'd you get all of this from?" He asks because your first aid kit is comprehensive : micropore, gauze and antiseptic with a name that sounds like sleeping pills.

You're swatting him gently, trying to keep his jaw still. "My ex was a med student."

He smothers a smile, like he's trying not to laugh.

"...what?"

"...is he the one that couldn't make you cum?"

You stop tending to his wounds, hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Never have I ever faked an orgasm – the words start ringing in your head. You're not a blushing virgin, but his crass word choice makes you flush.

"None of your business."

He smirks. "So that's a yes. "

"I faked it once or twice , sue me. But… I mean, the sex wasn't bad. It was even good, sometimes."

"Sure." He cringes, and you bat his shoulder.

"Don't want to hear it."

He hums, pressing a little closer to your front.

"What was he like, then?" He seems nonchalant; but his tone is unusual, sending shivers down your spine.

"He was… nice."

"Nice?"

"Yep." Four years, and that's the best you can come up with. It's all you can verbalise, at least. How does one describe the feeling of getting hit by a metaphorical train? One that leaves you on the tracks, thinking of picnic dates and IOUs and diner coffee? They'd describe it as poorly as you do, most likely. A moment passes. "I loved him, I think."

You don't know why you said that, but the melancholy of the night starts to sink in.

"Then why'd you break up?"

You shrug. "Wasn't enough."

He looks surprised, eyebrows drawn up momentarily, as if that's the last thing he thought you'd say. You strike him as a romantic; ditzy and dopey when you have feelings for someone, a love conquers all type of person.

The mood sours, air heaving in that little bathroom. You finish up in silence, applying strips to a gash above his brow. It takes some time for him to speak, as if he's been building up the confidence.

"Is that your type?" He asks, finally puncturing that pressure.

You shake your head, a little confused.

"Nice? Like that guy you were talking to."

"...Jun?" You hesitate, sensing something else behind his words. "I mean… I just wanted to get laid."

He doesn't really react, thumb grazing the silk of your slip dress. The skin his hand brushes past feels a little hotter.

"He's pretty, though." You're careful not to make eye contact, getting to work cleaning the cuts on his knuckles. You smile to yourself. "And yeah, he's nice. More than nice, actually. "

Jun works with computers. Jun is good with his hands. And you really were going to fuck him. Until… until…

…until Miguel got into a fight. After watching you kiss someone else. The gears turn in your head, creaky and lumbering because you haven't had to navigate a shitty pseudo-situationship in forever. You're wrapping up his hand with gauze, mouth moving quicker than you can think.

"Are you jealous?"

He splutters, flashing pearly whites in indignation.

"No… No . You can fuck whoever you want." He says it too quickly. "I don't care."

He looks a mess; a gash above one eye, a nasty cut glancing the side of his lip, and knuckles bruised. Suspecting more hiding beneath his shirt, you look at him, gaze heavy. You're worried, even when you shouldn't be, even when he doesn't deserve it.

"Oh my God." You're connecting dots, and your stomach churns with the realisation. "What the fuck ?"

" M-not -"

"Just because you don't want to fuck me– "

"I never said I didn't want to–"

"You didn't have to, you just refused to acknowledge how we almost did for two weeks. "

"Neither did you!"

"I wanted to… after. And you said we couldn't, because I had a lecture."

"You did have a lecture, and you were high! That doesn't mean anything… I need you to mean it when you say it."

"So you resort to sabotage? I was gonna get laid, you fucking asshole."

"You kissed him."

" So? "

"You didn't kiss me."

That one takes the wind out of your sails, and you're stammering with the amount of brainpower it takes to wrap your head around it. You slip off the counter, putting some space between you both.

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not saying you can't kiss him… o-or you're not allowed to, or some crap. I just don't get it. I don't understand."

He's holding your hands in his,

"You just met the guy, and you kiss him on a stupid dare–"

" –he kissed me." You correct him, voice hoarse.

"He kissed you . Cool. Whatever. You kissed him back. But when I tried to kiss you, after… " He trails off.

"I dodged one kiss . Maybe I wasn't feeling it."

"And that's fine. I respect that, and I respect you. But it wasn't just one kiss. It's all the time , around here. I say something, then you say something, and then… we have a moment. Time just stops. Can't you feel it? I-I feel like I'm going crazy."

You keep quiet, only the sound of your heart racing to punctuate thoughts.

"Miguel… "

He gets even closer, pressing you against the counter, his bandaged hand migrating to your waist, and then the small of your back. Your knees are weak as you swallow roughly, with Miguel; strong, annoyingly handsome, perceptive Miguel; resting his forehead on yours. You come together, intimate, even allowing your eyes to flutter shut, waiting for the press of lips on yours.

It never comes. Wrenching yourself away at the last minute, you're standing in the doorway; arms folded, because you don't know what to do with your limbs anymore.

He doesn't look disappointed. Just deflated.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He asks. Yes , you answer, but he can't hear it.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me?

This feels different. Not as simple as a yes or no.

Your face must say it all for you, because he sighs. "I just want to know why."

His behaviour has been erratic, to say the least. You've spent a good month and a half terrorising each other, before coming to an uneasy truce – and he fucked it up. All that talk like he knows you, that he sees you, and it all feels for naught.

"After all the shit you've pulled… what gives you the right? I was so worried about you–" Your voice is barely above a whisper. " Fuck this. M'going to bed."

Slipping into the gloom of the hallway, and then into your room, leaving Miguel there.

It's different, why can't he see that it's different? A one night stand, with Jun, with someone else; kissing a guy in a dare doesn't have consequences. You get off, you go home. Simple, clinical, no need for niceties. With Miguel, as you've come to realise, there are other things to navigate. Even when high, you knew ; with someone like him, it's too intimate – the possible consequences too dire. He's your roommate, for God's sake.

You can hear him now, turning off the bathrooms lights and padding into his room. For once, there's nothing to be heard from behind the wall. The dim light spills in, warm yellow pooling around the door. Your window is open, moonlight and the city below to keep you company.

And you want him to stew in that room, to punish him for all the shit he's put you through in the past week; hell, the past few months you've been here. But you can't. If you're sick of the mind games, you can't keep this game of chicken going – you're both careening towards the edge faster than you can say the words: Yes, Miguel; I want to sit on your face. If you could get rid of the attitude, that would be great, too .

So you're knocking on his door, still in your dress, tugging down its hem when he opens. He's in that shirt and slacks, bloodied front and all.

Deep breath. You straighten your back, and make sure you're heard, loud and clear.

"I don't like it when you bring over girls to fuck them in your room. The walls are too thin, and I can't sleep because I hear everything. Everything, Miggy."

He's stony-faced, unreadable as ever. Still, you continue.

"I don't like it when you look at me… like that, and then pretend it never happened. You're inconsistent, sarcastic, you freak out whenever there's a sock out of place and it drives me fucking crazy–"

" I don't –"

"I'm not finished. You're a prick. You don't tell people you love them enough, when… when you do. You so clearly do. Lyla was worried when you took so long to get to Jess' – just give her a call, sometimes. Let people know what's going on."

His face is stuck somewhere between abject horror and plain old shock. For Miguel, that means his eyebrow is raised a half-inch higher than usual.

"...you finished?" He strains.

"One more.. ." Another breath. "...your poker face needs work. Because you look like you need a shit half the time."

His jaw shifts. You maintain eye contact; despite everything screaming that you should run with your tail between your legs.

"I fucking hate you , Miguel."

"I know." He softens, running a hand through his hair. Leaning against the frame, he steps a little closer; and imperceptibly, you're both pulled by the gravity of the other. All of a sudden, your head is on his chest, blood-spattered cotton that smells like him, arms wrapped around his middle. Hesitant, he pulls you even closer, slotting into the crook of your neck as best he can.

Wordlessly, you separate. You knit your eyebrows together, looking up at him. With your hand on his cheek, he leans into your touch. You graze a thumb on his lips, eyes fluttering at the broken skin: plump and messy and pretty.

"Sit down." You say it so softly, he convinces himself he didn't hear it.

You go again. "Sit down."

Your tone makes him flush, and then he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans back, you step forward; legs brushing his knees splayed atop the sheets.

"Do you want me?"

He's nodding before he even hears the end of the sentence, eyes locked onto yours.

You shrug.

"Prove it. "

And it goes straight to his cock: the way you say it, blasé and casual, like you haven't put words to the way he's been feeling for weeks. Usually, he'd start to spiral, endlessly loop around what you mean. Want , strong and heady; and to him that means a hungering that leaves his throat dry and innards bare.

Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me?

And yet, he doesn't quite know the answer. Instead, he shows you; hoping and praying he hasn't read this wrong.

Barely breathing, studying your every move, he takes your other hand. You hinge slightly at the hip, coming closer, eyes still locked onto his and he places your little palm onto his crotch. It spans his whole length, quickly hardening. When you don't react, he panics, trying to move your hand away…

…and then you squeeze .

Miguel keens, bucking into the pressure you apply with the heel of your palm. He starts a slow roll of hips, other hand wrapped around yours on his cheek; melting into it, in a way that brings heat to that sweet spot between your legs. And then he stutters to a stop, lips parted and panting.

"Why'd you stop?"

"G-Got carried away. Sorry ."

His brows are knitted, shoulders hunched, and when you slide your hand down to the corded muscles of his neck, he tenses. He always seems so stressed, but you've never seen him like this: desperate and falling apart at the seams.

"You're okay, Miguel. Relax. "

You shift your wrist, rolling around that growing tent in your palm. He hisses, palms flat by his side and head thrown back. With a little smile, you watch his shoulders melt, satisfied.

"Does it feel good?"

"Y-Yes." He groans. Despite your quickening pace, he seems to clamp down instinct; biting his cheek to muffle wanton moans.

"How about you get more comfortable for me?"

At first he doesn't understand, grumbling when you take your hand away from his clothed cock. Pulling him upwards, you make a start with his buttons, helping slide the fabric off of his shoulders. He slips his slacks off, and then he's left in black boxers; it's band hanging dangerously low.

They're tented, sporting a wet patch of precum around the fat tip of his dick. And he is large, its outline clear under the thin fabric.

You wrap a hand around his waist, other hand tracing up to his chest.

"What about you, chula? "

You look up. Miguel looks down at you, eyes low, large hand splayed between your shoulder blades.

"You don't like what I'm wearing?" Doe eyed, you don't really expect him to take you seriously.

"N-No, no. " He's stuttering, now. "You look beautiful. Always do. I just… I want to see more ."

You click your tongue with faux disapproval. "Don't be selfish, baby. You wanted my attention, right?"

He nods, with the self-awareness to be hesitant at your tone.

"Then," You start, slipping a hand into his boxers. You wrap a dainty hand around his length; thick and slanted and weeping at the tip. "Learn to be grateful."

"Ayy-" He wraps around you, head bowed to dip into your shoulder.

You pump his cock, other hand around his neck; eyes sparkling as you force him to look to his side, at you.

"F-Fuck–" He's breathing heavily, mouth open into a pretty little O , and you clamp a hand down to his jaw.

"What do you want?"

"R-Rapido, mas rapido por favor -"

[Faster, faster, please-]

Surprisingly vocal, he loses it as you press your thumb onto his slit; flushed and pouring with precum. You rub his wetness along the length of his shaft, squeezing and turning your wrist as you get to his tip. He likes that; hips bucking to fuck into the ring you make with your hand.

You want to savour this moment: Miguel stripped down to his boxers, beautifully tanned skin pressed up against yours. And of course, that look on his face; a lusty haze, even stronger than the one you were under when high, all those nights ago.

His lashes flutter, and you watch as his core tenses; watching and waiting for just the right moment to… stop.

You pull away, and he chases it, bucking into thin air. You're pushing him back onto the bed, with a hand to his chest. Eyes blown , he leans back onto his forearms; unable to tear himself away. There's a certain glow about you, a glint in your eye, one that takes his breath away. Something smug , a little smile as you drag a black thong down your pretty thighs. It's long forgotten when you chuck it onto the bed; Miguel still can't get over the sight of legs and a flash of your cunt, committing it to memory.

Sidling up to his chest, you kick a leg over and seat yourself onto his lap. Flush against the fabric, you settle onto your knees. The look in Miguel's eyes almost bowls you over; stunning and windswept, as he runs a hand over your thigh. Eyes wide at the way the fabric pools around your body: the swell of tits cupped by silk, how good it looks against your skin.

He's staring at where you meet, that spot between your thighs when it happens; when you guide his hand to the apex of your pussy. His thumb slots against your clit like it belongs there, rough pads applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Oh f-fuuuck," You sigh into it, pressing your tits to his chest in a way that makes him hump into the pocket left by your body and the smooth fabric of your dress.

Even in his haze, Miguel is hyperfocused on your pleasure, obsessed with the noises he can pull from you. With a big hand on your waist, he pulls you closer to slot you against his front. It's your turn to moan, the prettiest thing he thinks he's ever heard, slipping his cock between your lower lips with a swirling intensity.

You're drunk with the pleasure, hands on his shoulders to angle him towards your clit. He thinks you look like an angel, head tilted back to expose the expanse of your neck. Bringing his teeth to that slight vein, he's a killer; sucking rough hickeys to the skin.

"M'close, fuck –"

"Damelo, hermosa, " He places two palms at the globes of your ass, squeezing and pressing into you even closer.

[Give it to me, beautiful.]

"Miguel…shit–b-baby, think I'm–"

You cum, gushing and clamping down around nothing. Miguel is more interested in the way you transform ; fine lines and deep furrows of your face softening, the pure bliss written into the gentle arch of your body. He did that. It makes his chest warm, it makes his cock swell; and with the feeling of slipping through your pretty folds, he gets so, so close to that biting edge.

You stop, slipping off of his lap and he whines at the loss of you. Tugging down your dress, you make your way out of the room and he's reeling , clutching at your arm so you don't leave.

"Chula ," He's babbling, tucked back into his boxers, but on his knees for you. "I'm sorry, please. Do you want me to beg? Because I will , baby, I w–"

Helping him up, you give him a little smile that he's too pussy-drunk to realise its true nature. Dangerous, you cup his face with both hands, brows pressed together and large, sparkling eyes. Not quite sympathy, but it's enough to make him think you'll wrap a hand around his cock out of pity, press those pretty tits against him and–

On your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss between his brows. You flash him a stunning smile, bottom lip hooked under your teeth.

"Goodnight , Miguel."

And then you're out the door, down the little hallway and into your bedroom. Miguel runs a shaky hand through his hair, unsure whether to laugh or cry. And he knows, still rock hard, body burning with the memory of you: he's fucked.

~~~

When morning comes, Miguel wrenches open his eyes, bloodshot and sore. He feels like shit , barely able to sit up without feeling like his chest will collapse.

It feels like he was ran over in a headfirst collision; and he was, essentially, wincing at the memory of that fight. He can feel strike one and two; between his ribs, to the side of his navel; but the real knockout punch was you – a deadly, calculated assault that he almost hates you for.

Almost.

He came harder than he has in months last night; bent over his cock, pumping shakily. It had only taken a couple of rough tugs until he spilled all over himself; embarrassingly quick. He lasted longer the second time, unable to help himself.

In his defence, the black thong you had slipped off was right there ; rumpled amongst the sheets. He had pressed it to his nose and then wrapped them around his shaft; eyes closed as he imagined being buried in your plush pussy. All his fantasies; quickies in the shower spent jerking off to the thought of you, where he'd hold onto the feeling of brushing past you in the kitchen, or little touches on the couch. You've surpassed them, well and truly.

Now, he stumbles into the shower, stripping on the tiles. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he pokes at flesh; purple bruises stretching over brown and tan muscle. Turning around and craning his head, he follows them all the way to his back and then… oh. He can see them: scratchy-sharp lines, spanning the width of his shoulder blades. You did that, he thinks.

Fuck . He's hard again, sighing heavily as he clambers into the shower. It sputters to life, ice cold, but he grits his teeth and takes it , trying to free his mind of cotton and cobwebs. As the water warms up, he presses both hands flat on the tile, head down and eyes closed. The water washes over him, down his back, and like a flash of lightning he's imagining you pressed up against him, bent in half over his cock. He'd press a thumb to your clit, slamming into your ass; fucking you hard, like you deserve. You'd like that , he thinks, from what he's heard of you in your room, the filth that spills from your mouth and to his side of the wall.

"Miguel?" It's a little muffled over the shower, but you get closer to the door.

"Yes?" He shouts over the rush of water. He shouldn't . He really shouldn't.

"You've got a call!"

He hums. With the way you say his name he caves, making a tight ring around his length.

"It's Lyla, and-" Something clatters. " Fuck , sorry."

Your voice is breathy, little groans as you pick up whatever's dropped to the floor. Miguel feels like a perv, turning the water pressure down to listen to your voice properly. All the while, he keeps a steady pace on his cock.

"Should I just let it ring? Keep it going?"

Keep going is what he hears, and then he speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him. What would it would it take to have you babbling and begging for more? How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length.

"Miguel?"

Or maybe you'd be on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God , thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

H-Harder, please–

That's how you would ask him, clawing at his back, and he'd capture those pleas in a searing kiss.

"–Miguel!"

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes onto the tiles. He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool tile.

"Just take a message," He strains, panting as you say something in response. He doesn't quite catch it, of course, too busy reeling from the aftershock.

The shower croaks and gurgles, spluttering to a stop. He listens as your footsteps recede beyond the door, moving away.

Shit. It's going to be a long day.

~~~

You sleep like a baby. Lulled into blissful sleep, after practically floating into bed. That orgasm does wonders; and you sleep better than you have in months. You dream of cotton candy clouds, flowing green grass, and tanned, muscled men on their knees; in the kind of sleep that wraps around you like a blanket.

Surprisingly fresh in the morning, you wake up before Miguel does. You're milling about the hallway when he barrels into the bathroom, and on the couch when he leaves.

"Mig?" You poke your head towards the door, and he almost jumps half a foot into the air.

Eyes wide, and he can barely manage a weak smile.

"Lyla called."

"Yeah, you…" He sighs, clutching the towel slung around his waist a little tighter. "You mentioned it."

In the light of the morning, you're able to assess him a lot better. To put it plainly, he looks rough ; blinking at you oddly, shifting when you come closer. You don't touch him, Miguel seems much too antsy for that, but you get closer to inspect the bruises that bloom across his side. It looks even worse than yesterday, purple and blue across taut muscle. You reach for it and he flinches, so you pull away.

"...you okay?"

" Yep. " He grits it through a plasticky smile; and the fact that it reaches his eyes is a red flag in of itself for the usual grump.

The side-eye you respond with isn't quite enough to chip at it, so he continues.

"M'just fine."

" O–kay . Lyla said something about a debrief , earlier."

"At the usual place?"

"...uhhh. She said at HQ? In about an hour."

"Okay… okay. Nonono, that's fine… okay." He's muttering to himself and about to turn around when something catches his eye. Your lips; pretty gloss and freshly done. In fact, you're fully dressed to go out; in a display that has him confused.

You answer the question he posits with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"She invited me, Mig."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Of c.. of course she did."

Distracted and haphazard, Miguel gets dressed; squeezing into the car with a flask of coffee to-go. It scares you; the way he barely flinches while taking sips of the bitter liquid you know must be piping hot. He's acting weird, even weirder than usual; but you let it wash over you and move on.

Eventually, you pull up to HQ ; a shitty dive bar that is inexplicably serving breakfast and other miscellaneous items at 12pm. At least, that's what it looks like, arriving to see one overcrowded table and a sea of pancakes and coffee. Jess sports a croissant and orange juice, whilst Peter scoffs down a burger almost as big as his face.

"Miguel!" He says it with a mouthful of pickles, beef and patty, slapping the man in question heartily on the back.

He winces, batting Peter away before sliding into the seat next to you. For barely a second, your legs brush together and he's shifting away. Okay. That's… odd.

You're sifting through menus when you glance over to the counter and you see her : a pretty woman of about 25, tucking red hair away behind her ear. Your heart stops, and then you're tapping Miguel.

" Look, " You hiss quietly, nodding towards the counter. " Isn't that…? "

June McGinnity, the premier main character in the hit tv soap, And Everyday Before The Last; The Final Season. It's the very same show you've been bingeing for the past 6 months. 18 seasons, 3 spinoffs, and a revival currently in the works; you're obsessed with the show that's gotten you through your last breakup – and the one before that, and a couple of rocky moments with your parents.

She's been a staple for the last couple of seasons, quickly skyrocketing to popularity in her minor role, and now , in The Final Season, she's got her well-deserved spot as a season regular. June is tenacious, smart, absolutely hilarious, and–

" –she's coming over here . Shit, Miggy, she's coming over," You whisper to him and for the first time this morning; he smiles, wide and genuine. It takes you back; not just because he looks so pretty when he smiles, but because you have no idea what's so funny.

June slips into the seat besides Peter, and your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. She gives him a kiss on the cheek , as Peter brushes away blunt bangs. Frantic, you turn to Miguel, who's trying not to piss himself laughing.

He's borderline howling, and you put a hand around his arm to get him to keep quiet – to stop embarrassing you in front of June – but he's too busy wiping away tears.

Peter turns to the scene, clearly confused. He says something to June, and then he's turning to you, saying your name.

"Hey, I don't think I've introduced you to– Miguel, please shut the fuck up– this is–"

"MJ." She smiles, brilliant and sparkling, with her hand outstretched and you think you might pass out.

"I'm–" You're stumbling over your words, grasping her hand before you can overthink it. Maybe it comes off as overzealous, but you're desperately trying to shut out Miguel's laughing. "I'm a massive fan, you're so incredibly talented ; as June – I always cry at that one scene when you meet your long-lost sister... a-and when you find out that Jackie is actually your Mom, I swear, I get chills–"

The man besides you splutters, hunched over and gripping onto the table for support. It's getting egregious, now, and you make it known as best you can with a dirty look.

"I'm, oh fuck, no… I'm done, I promise." He clamps down a smile, hands up in surrender.

"Was that… too much?" You gain some semblance of perspective, and then you're falling over yourself to apologise. " Shit , I'm really, really sor–"

" – No, no. You're good, it's nice to get recognised for that show! Most of the demographic is old people and pensioners, honestly. Not a lot of IRL interaction with fans, if you know what I mean." She flashes you that smile, again, and you melt. She turns to the man beside you. "Don't be a dick, Miguel."

"Yeah, Miguel." Peter continues to inhale what you think is his second burger, wagging a sauce covered finger. "What she said."

Miguel rolls his eyes so hard you think they might rattle about in his skull, and you give him a rough shove for good measure. Down the other side of the table, you spot Lyla; downing a brightly coloured drink and massaging her temples.

"Shit , Lyla. You want to slow it down?" Jess says, and then her eyes are flicking over to yours. She does a double take, giving you a wide smile. " Hey , y'all! When did you get here?"

"Not long!" You call back, and she gives you a thumbs up in response. Lyla coughs beside her, sporting a nasty grimace; and then she's up and looking around the table, as if taking a headcount. At least, you think she does, as it's hard to see her eyes between pink tinted shades. They slip down her nose and she brings a fork to the empty glass; silencing the rabble.

"M-Morning…" She stills, hand on her chest like she's got heartburn; throat bobbing as she gags slightly. "Morning, everyone. First off, hope you all feel as shitty as I do."

And then there's cheers and good-natured elbowing, especially towards Ben and Miguel. Apparently , if you're to believe the whispers and rumour mill; Ben took to bar-hopping across town, ending the night without a shoe and someone else's shirt. He gives a rueful smile, holding up a mug to scattered laughter. And Miguel… well, he's Miguel , sitting back in his seat with folded arms.

"Second," She pauses, for dramatic effect. "Someone's volunteered to pay for the next round of food to apologise for last night… everyone say Thank you, Miguel."

She starts a limp round of applause with a flourish, and sits down. There's only about a dozen people there: most you recognise, and some you don't. There was no attempt to explain what exactly a debrief was; so you're left disorientated in the mash of voices. Miguel picks at waffles besides you, in his own world. Without a word, you get up, making your way towards neon bathroom signs in the corner.

It's some peace and quiet, a moment to think as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You look lighter , as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders last night. Your skin looks a little brighter, eyes sharper and even your hair falls differently, today. You feel good, and it seems to translate to the person looking back it you. Wow. You're practically–

" -glowing. Shit , you look good." Lyla calls out from behind you, entering the little bathroom with Jess.

Jess gives you a warm hug, and Lyla follows before pushing up heart shaped glasses.

" Damn, girl." Jess gives a low whistle, hands on her shoulders to turn you this way and that.

They make you giggle, with a warmth that blooms at your chest.

"Was it that cute guy from last night?"

Lyla interrupts. " Jun! Did he send you a little something after you got home?"

"Did you ditch Miguel to get some?"

"God, did you invite Jun over? "

Jess gasps, before quickly adding. "No judgement, of course. Once upon a time, we probably would've done the same thing."

It's a back and forth that gives you whiplash, dodging fastballs that get hit into the tiles. Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head, demurely.

"...are you telling us you didn't have sex last night? Because that glow says something different."

You clamp down any words that might give you away, but Jess' sharp eyes latch onto the cracks: a little smile tugging at the sides of your lips.

"So not Jun … but someone else? Last night…? "

The penny drops and then she's grabbing at you and Lyla. When realisation hits the mousy brunette to your side, she's flinging off pink shades to look you in the eye.

"You fucked Miguel?"

"No!" You're hissing, trying to calm raucous behaviour. "Technically, not… yet."

"Not yet? " Lyla repeats, astonished. "I mean, I thought you two were already–"

"It makes sense! Could've sworn I saw his knees shakin' today…"

"Okay, okay…" You're laughing, finally understanding the magnitude of the grenade you've just lobbed at them. "It wasn't like that . It's not a thing."

"...do you want it to be a thing?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think on it. Yes , you want to ride him till something breaks; but Miguel is a walking red flag. You know, deep down, nothing good can come out of it.

"Don't… don't say it like that."

"Look, Ly, she wants it to be a thing. "

" Definitely. It's basically already a thing ." Lyla concurs, nodding firmly.

"Fuck you guys." It's not said with spite, leaving your mouth with a smile.

"Oh, no. You like 'em tall, and tan, and a little grumpy. You mean: Fuck me, Miguel. "

You're swatting her away, whilst Jess is doubled over in laughter; hand on the ceramic to steady herself. They're good fun; raucous and boisterous and making you feel welcome, when you know they really don't have to.

The laughter dies down, and they're leading you out of the bathroom to their side of the table, chattering away. Jess digs into another pancake, rock hard, and all of a sudden you're telling her about the waffles at Pam's Diner, and all the interesting characters you've met there. Lyla nurses another sweet cocktail, chattering on about a pre-game she's got in a couple of hours; and then you're exchanging stories about hangovers and missed lectures.

From their conversation, you slowly learn what a debrief entails: the remnants of a tradition they'd started when 19 and spotty. All of them, friends of friends, roommates, classmates; growing to know each other in the dinky bar across the street from their dorms. Tending to hangovers in the morning from an all night rager, or pre-gaming before the biggest events of the year: it's something that trickled down to every so often later in their adulthoods. It's something else Miguel started, surprising you yet again.

So absorbed in their heart-to-heart, time flies by; and late breakfast turns to brunch. You're exchanging phone numbers, and left smiling from lots of little tete-a-tetes, before Miguel tries to drag you to the car. One last goodbye had turned into two, which had turned into four; and then he's grumbling alone in the car for a dire couple of minutes.

You open the door, glowing. Your mood dampens immediately as you sit down; soured by Miguel's own swirling dark cloud. He seems worse than before, somehow. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the air thick with something. Where you would've bit your tongue before, pushed down difficult-to-say words, now, you find a surge of confidence.

"Miguel," You start, and he turns; key still in the ignition.

You look around at the parking lot, mostly empty, except for you two.

"Can we talk?"

"...sure." His tone seems anything but sure; which feels like a first, for him.

"About last night."

"Oh." And then he's gone again, eyes flicking around the cab of the car. All of a sudden the mirror needs fixing, and he's fiddling with some buttons on the dash.

You place a hand on his to still him. He doesn't flinch.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. You don't believe him.

"Did you like it?"

He pauses, chewing his lip. " Yes ."

You believe that .

"Good." You hum. "I liked it. But you made me feel like shit, too."

He softens. "I did?"

"You did. You only wanted me after you saw me with someone else. After I kissed Jun."

You wait to see if he admits it, and his hand curls into a fist, tight. His grip relaxes, and then his voice comes out in a whisper.

"Y-Yeah… I was jealous." He seems remorseful, at least.

You sigh. "I don't want a relationship with you, or anything. But it made me feel like… an object. A conquest, another notch on your belt because you only want me when you can't have me. It made me feel shitty, Miguel."

"I fucked up," He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't really thinking, chula. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Miguel. I like fucking around with you." You say it with a small smile. "I want… more ."

"Me too." He's smiling back, shy, brushing against you with fingers stretched out.

"That's fine, more than fine. We can do this because I make you feel good, and you make me feel good, and somehow… this works . But we need to keep this," Gently, you push away his hand, gesturing between you both. "...and us separate. My heart can't take the possibility of this blowing up. And… And it's probably going to be me; 'cuz I seem to like getting my heart broken."

You give a watery laugh, but he doesn't laugh with you; instead, boring into your soul with red-brown eyes.

"If we're going to do this, it means I can't kiss you, properly ; it means no cuddling after sex, or staying the night in your bed." It's why you couldn't kiss him before, and you hope he understands. "You can say no… you probably should say no. But that's what I want, right now. And those are my terms."

It takes a moment before he respond, mulling it over, and you barely breath in the interim.

"I want you ." He nods slowly, and then more firmly as he turns the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, as Miguel turns to you with as best a smile he can manage. Lip cut, hair smattered across his forehead, and thick brows softening; he says, firmly, " Yeah, I'd like that."

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@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #rigor mortis 😼#kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

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therealcocoshady · 2 months

Note

Hi coco I wanna try putting in a request

Marshall x fem reader

Marshall and reader have a child there 4 or 5 (boy or girl idc ) and marshal and reader are indulging in late night activities (18+) and there child wakes up screaming bc they heard y/n screaming . So they come running knocking on the door to see if she’s ok .

You don’t have to do this kinda a bad idea

Hey ! Thanks for your request ! I love your idea ❤️. I had a lot of fun writing it, I hope you enjoy reading !

The Monster

Eminem x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : Lily gets scared when she hears Reader screaming during sex. Her and Em need to come up with some explanation.

Tags : Smut - Fluff - Comfort

Warning : SMUT (P in V, use of toys, anal, oral, biting, squirting…).

Author’s Note : I decided to use the same characters as in the one shot « One more baby ? » because why not ?

Your daughter was finally in bed, which only meant one thing : it was on. Baby-making time. Ever since you had decided to try for another child, your evenings with Marshall were filled with… spirited activities. Your sex life had always been active, but trying for a baby had you ten times hornier than you usually were. Same for your husband. For the past two months, as soon as Lily’s bedroom lights were out, you couldn’t jump on each other fast enough.

Trying for a baby not only made you hornier, it also made you more daring, more creative, much to Marshall’s delight. He was definitely enjoying the many new lingerie sets you had bought, as well as the toys and accessories. Since you had Lily on your own, with IVF, you decided to have as much fun as you could as you tried to give her a sibling. New positions, games, accessories, toys… as long as he was cumming inside of you, everything was fair game.

You were ovulating and had been a horny mess since this morning. It didn’t help that your dutiful husband had decided to work from home, staying in his grey sweatpants that you found him so sexy in. Days like this, he would usually stay in his home office but, for some reason, he had decided to work in the dining room. You weren’t going to complain : at least you got to admire him.

It was the holidays so were taking care of Lily but you couldn’t help but throw longing glances at each other. Every time he got a chance, he would tease you, brushing against you, gently squeezing your butt… and you got right back at him, leaning and bending forward every time you were in front of him so that he could have a good view of either your ass or your boobs. You felt your phone buzzing in your back pocket.

From Husband ❤️ : Keep on teasing me like this and you’re not walking for the next week.

You flashed him a smile and « accidentally » dropped the pencils you were holding.

- Mommy, did you drop something again ? Lily asked in an annoyed voice.

- I did, baby, you replied as you tried to hide a smile. I guess I’m really clumsy today…

- Daddy always says that we should be careful with our things, your daughter reminded you.

- And Daddy is always right, Marshall added with a smirk. I swear, Lily is the only good girl around here…

You giggled and bent to pick up the pencils as your husband stared at you - or rather at your cleavage that also showed a hint of the lingerie set that was waiting for him. You saw him licking his lips. Obviously, black lace was always a good choice. You forgot where you were and eye-fucked each other for a second before being taken out of your trance by Lily.

- Daddy, will you come and draw with us ? She asked.

- I have work to do, sweetie, he said with a small pout. I’d love to draw with you but Paul is going to be very unhappy if I don’t review these contracts for tomorrow.

- Uncle Paul always gives you work, she complained as she rolled her eyes.

- True, he chuckled. Next time you see him, you tell him he needs to leave Daddy alone, alright ?

- Yes, she said. You’re my Daddy and I miss drawing with you.

You could see Marshall’s heart melt at these words. He threw a guilty glance at the contracts on the dining room table and you could tell he was tempted to drop everything.

- I really have to work, baby, he said. But if you let me work in peace, I can go quicker and then we can do something together, ok ?

- Ok, she said. Can we make pizza just the two of us tonight ?

- Of course, he said with a smile. We can cook for Mommy. I think she’s a little too clumsy to be in the kitchen today anyway.

You giggled and took your daughter to the living room to draw for a little bit. As the evening came, Marshall kept his promise and cooked with Lily. Pizza was her favorite thing to make with her Dad. The two of them always made a mess in the kitchen, but it made them so happy that it was worth it. When it was time for bed, she insisted that Marshall be the one to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story. She was clearly in her « Dad phase » and he was her favorite parent. You’d read it was normal so you didn’t worry much. Plus, it was fair : he was working a lot lately, so she probably missed him.

You decided to make the most of it and wait for your husband in the bedroom, only wearing your lingerie and high heels. With a 5 year-old, you didn’t wear your heels too much, but you knew how much Marshall loved the sight of your legs when you wore these red bottoms. You were searching for something in a drawer when you heard him enter the bedroom and lock the door. The familiar sound was always arousing to you. It was time to play.

- I have a bone to pick with you, Mrs Mathers, he said playfully in your ear as he stood behind you.

- Do you ? You giggled.

- You drove me crazy all day, he whispered. Time for consequences.

You were about to turn and face him when you felt his hands on the back of your neck, forcing you to bend over the dresser. He got closer to you until you could feel how hard he was. You couldn’t help but moan. After all, you had spent the whole day waiting for this moment. Little did he know that you were soaking wet.

- I could take you right here, he whispered in your ear.

- Please, you moaned.

- Not yet, he chuckled. Let me enjoy the view.

He ran his hands on your sides, your back, your legs, spilling kisses all over your body as you stayed in this position, all his to enjoy. He kneeled behind you and kissed your ass cheek before making your lace panties slide off your legs. He kissed your thigh, going higher and higher until you felt him kissing your pussy, from behind. You let out a soft moan as he ran his tongue up and down your slit. He slid a finger inside you, feeling how wet you were.

- For me ? He asked playfully.

- I was actually waiting for someone else, you couldn’t help but say.

He stopped and you felt a slap on your butt. Of course you had to run your mouth. It was going to be the death of you. You silently cursed yourself for making him stop what he was doing. You wanted his mouth and fingers back to your pussy, in their rightful place. He got up and whispered in your ear.

- Am I not enough ? He asked teasingly. Do you want more ?

- Marshall, you moaned. Please.

- No, he chuckled. I’ll give you more.

He opened the drawer next to you, where you kept your toys, and got your butt plug. He put it in your mouth, telling you to suck on it. When it was wet enough, he inserted it in you, before resuming his initial position and sliding two fingers inside of your pussy. His tongue worked his magic on your clit and you tried hard not to make too much noise. The sensation of the plug, his fingers and his tongue at the same time was sending you in overdrive. It was delicious. You thought you were about to come in no time but he seemed to have other plans.

- I’m not done with you yet, baby, he said. You teased me, now it’s my turn to have fun.

He just loved driving you crazy and you knew he got off on seeing you wrestle with your pleasure. Not that you were going to complain, mind you. After years of dating selfish men when it came to sex, Marshall was a breath of fresh air. You knew you had married the right man but, in that moment, you wished he would just pound into you and make you come already. Patience was definitely not your strong suit, and especially not when you were ovulating.

He grabbed your hand and pushed you on the bed, ass up, face down. In no time, he got rid of his clothes and he did not even bother undressing you. He just pushed your panties aside before entering you. His hip thrusts were painfully slow and you knew it was on purpose. However, you were not having it, so you rocked your hips in turn, owing you another slap on the ass. However, he indulged you and started moving faster. He reached for the plug and moved it a bit, causing you to whimper in pleasure. You were on verge of orgasm when he stopped again and laid down on the bed.

- Get on top, he said.

- You’re killing me, you groaned.

- Told you I’d get my revenge, he chuckled. Now, get on top before I leave you high and dry.

You were pretty sure he wouldn’t do this to you, but you were so needy that you weren’t willing to risk it. You were craving for release and he knew it. This gave your husband way too much power over you. He was smirking I when you got on top and lowered yourself on his length, taking all of it. The presence of the plug in your butt maximised the sensations and Marshall felt even bigger than usual. You moaned as you started moving, closing your eyes and chasing your high. Your man seemed to enjoy the sensations, too. He was usually a rather quiet lover but you could hear him whimper.

- God you’re so tight, he moaned.

- I’m close, you warned.

- Come for me.

Your movements started to become sloppy, much to your frustration. You were on the edge but couldn’t quite get there. You looked at Marshall. You didn’t have to say a word for him to understand you needed a bit of help.

- I got you, he said.

He reached in your nightstand and grabbed your Satisfyer. He turned it on and put it on your clit. Your body’s response was immediate. You were shaking on top of him and your soaked sex was clenching around his. It was so strong that you let out cries of pleasure. Marshall captured your lips in an attempt to shut you up, but to no avail. Your nails were digging in his chest.

- Fuck, he said as you felt him twitch inside of you, his release being imminent.

There were too many sensations at once for you to be able to think straight and control yourself. Every inch of you was stimulated. You let out screams of pleasure as you reached orgasm. You could feel your husband try and cover your mouth but you instinctively bit his hand. He pulled you close to him and your teeth found his shoulder as you kept on having spasms. It felt like never-ending waves of pleasure. You weren’t even sure if that lasted seconds of hours. Time and space had become vague concepts. All you could hear were your own sounds.

Your head was buried in Marshall’s neck as you came to your senses, both of you panting.

- Holy shit, you managed to mumble.

You were taken out of your zone by Lily screaming. Parental instinct kicked in and you stared at each other. « On it », Marshall said before hurrying into some clothes and out of the room. You quickly got out of bed and got rid of the sextoys before getting dressed as well. You were about to check on Lily and Marshall when you heard a knock on the door.

- Mommy ? Your husband asked. Can we come in ?

- Yes, you said.

He opened the door and you could see he was carrying Lily who seemed terrified.

- Mommy ! She cried.

- What’s wrong, my love ? You asked. Did you have a nightmare ?

- I heard you scream ! I’m scared…

You threw a glance at Marshall who was trying to hide a smirk. You never realised you could be this loud.

- It’s alright, you said as you walked to them and kissed her head. Everything’s fine, baby.

- Why did you scream, mommy ? She asked nervously.

- I was… scared, you said, trying to come up with a quick excuse.

- Of what ?

- Of the monster under the bed, Marshall tentatively explained. But don’t worry, I got rid of him.

She looked anxiously at her Dad, who have her a reassuring smile. The mark your teeth had left on his shoulder caught her eye and she looked at him anxiously.

- Did the monster bite you ?! She asked.

- What ? Oh uh… yeah, he said. I had to wrestle him. Scratched my chest too. But you should see him. He looks worse.

You let out a giggle. Thank God for his brain and quick thinking. Your daughter looked at you.

- Are you alright Mommy ? Did the monster bite you too ? She asked nervously.

- He didn’t, you said reassuringly. Thank God for your Dad. He’s a hero.

- I am a hero, Marshall said proudly.

Lily hugged him tighter and gave him a peck on the cheek.

- Thank you for saving my Mommy from the monster, she said. I’m proud of you, Daddy.

- Of course, he said with a big smile. I’ll never let anything happen to Mommy, or to you, or your sisters.

- Mommy… did the Monster pee on your bed ? Lily suddenly asked.

Marshall and you glanced at the bed. There was a huge wet spot, caused by a mix of squirt and sweat. You couldn’t help but blush. You might have had your most powerful orgasm ever, tonight, but you were definitely paying for it. You were absolutely mortified, while Marshall was trying really hard not to cry from laughter.

- I guess he did, you said sheepishly. That’s how scary Dad is.

- Why don’t we go downstairs for some water ? Marshall asked Lily. So that Mommy can sort the mess the monster made in bed.

- Yes, you do that and I’ll join you, you said.

- You should also open your window, Mommy. The monster stinks, Lily pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong. The room reeked of smells typical of sex : sweat, squirt, pheromones and God knows what else. Marshall chuckled and winked at you before carrying her downstairs. You opened your bedroom window and changed the bedsheets. When you joined them in the kitchen, they were eating ice cream. You frowned, as they both knew what you thought of having sugary snacks before bed.

- We’re having a celebration, Marshall grinned. We’re celebrating the defeat of the scary monster under the bed.

- Oh, you giggled. In that case, I won’t say anything.

Lily was sitting on Marshall’s lap. She still seemed a little freaked out. He talked to her reassuringly as she asked some questions.

- I don’t want to go back to bed, she whined. What if the monster comes back ?

- I beat him real bad, you know ? He pointed out. I don’t think he will be bad anytime soon.

- What if his family comes back for revenge ? She asked nervously.

- I’ll wrestle each and everyone of them, he said. Come, I’ll tuck you in.

As he carried her up the stairs, she started hiccuping again. He stopped in his tracks and looked at you. Her cries were heartbreaking. You were a little mad at yourself for scaring her with your screams. You joined and hugged the two of them.

- Can I sleep with you tonight ? She asked.

- Of course, you said. But just for tonight, ok ?

The three of you settled in bed and you were ready to turn the lights out when she started asking about the scary monster again. Both you and your husband kept on trying to reassure her but it didn’t seem to work too well. Marshall sighed and got up. You wondered what he was up to, but you quickly understood as he came back with his huge lightsaber replica from Star Wars, which served as decor in his home office that also doubled as a man cave.

- I thought it was not supposed to be taken from the wall ? Lily pointed out.

- Yeah… except in case of monsters, duh, Marshall replied with a grin. If anyone comes in here, I promise you they won’t last long.

Your little girl nodded and settled between you and Marshall. You kissed her forehead as she held your hand tightly. Your husband smiled at you and mouthed « I love you » before turning the lights off.

In the morning, everything was back to normal, though Lily still mentioned the monster. You weren’t too sure how to deal with it and you were a bit scared you had unlocked a new trauma… you were anxiously staring at Marshall, who proved (once again) to be a quick thinker and the real genius in the house.

- How about we call Lainie and ask her if you can have a sleepover at her house tonight ? He asked Lily.

- Why ? She asked.

- Well, I think Mommy and I should check the whole house for monsters tonight, he said as he winked at you. Just in case, you know ?

Author’s Note : I hope you enjoyed this short story ❤️. I really like writing with these characters (I think Marshall and Lily are so cute) so if you have any requests for them, please keep them coming 💖.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #recovery fanfiction #marshall mathers imagine #eminem headcanons #eminem smut

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novthewolf · 9 months

Text

Two’s company, three’s a family - Part two

Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, oblivious to the actual reason...

Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Parts : Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : Language, mid-violence, near death, slight angst, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +3k

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(5 years later)

"Alright, Eden, this is how it's going to be : I'm going to help our dear friend with his little inconvenience while you stay here and eat every bit of grass you want. Okay ?" You said, deadpan.

And the only response from your white Dexter mini cow was a simple nudge against your palm. Aw, how could you resist her when she just looked at you with such cute eyes ? You just couldn't ! That's why you brought her with you in the first place.

"Perfect." You nodded firmly before bending down to kiss your forehead. You started to retreat. The sensation of tall grass touching your shinbone You loved it. Every sensation this world had to offer amazed you and urged you to experience everything. But right now is not the time !

"I'll be right back, sweetie ! Don't wonder off too far !" And you took off towards the meeting location.

Love angels are quite particular creatures with special abilities. As they say, love makes you blind, and even though you couldn't prove that statement, you knew that love allowed you to be blind in other people's eyes. You were capable of becoming invisible. Not all the time, but you could manage to stay this way for a few days if really necessary. You had a lot of free time.

This power was mostly there to permit you to supervise dates, gather information on your clients, and occasionally spy on a demon's secret meeting. If anyone asks, you never do that.

But lately, demons have been more and more pushy with Crowley's results, summoning him to Hell for his report. However, some lower-class demon got brave enough to come up on earth and confront him. They were jealous of the redhead; you smelled the salty taste, similar to burnt meat. And despite how stupid they sounded, they were really starting to cause trouble by sensing Aziraphale's presence and also influencing Warlock.

Thus, you decided to go help the duo by playing bait. Certainly those demons' boss would be thrilled to know they successfully scared off a love angel. Right now, you slowly flew towards the meeting point, watching closely for any aggressive behaviour. Crowley had called them to "calmly" persuade them to leave, as they were starting to draw too much attention.

It wasn't really the case ; Warlock's parents were incredibly lax. But you could always trick most of the supernatural beings since they don't spend as much time on Earth as you three. You gently leaned on a nearby tree, your expression fixed as you followed their movements.

"Go back to Hell ? So you can receive all the credit to yourself ! Don't count on it, Crawley !" The smaller one snarled vehemently.

"It's Crowley, and I really never meant to take your place in a mission you are so obviously deserving of." And he seemed to actually appreciate that; they weren't great at sarcasm either.

"What the.. urgh.. angels ? Have you had any trouble with one of 'them 'em sneaking around ?" The taller one almost gagged when he mentioned them. You knew that one, actually. You leaned in a bit more on your branch, Crowley glancing quizzically in your direction (he probably heard you), and you recognised the guy's features.

Yeah, greasy yellow-ish hair ; his right cheek was necrotic; his hideous teeth were poking out. You were just so glad Crowley had clean teeth; you honestly thank God every day for it. You've met him before during a lot of your missions; he's always there to fricking ruin every one of them. God, sorry, he was so annoying... But you loved tormenting him back. But he was getting really obtrusive in your monthly life, so today you would do your best to put them in a lot of trouble. And set his friend along; you wouldn't want him to feel lonely; you were not that mean.

"Angels ? Naaah, they are way too uptight and skittish to properly go against our forces... Why ? Have you been struggling ?" He was holding back his mockery. Which was a real struggle for him.

"Just that little wuss of an angel. They keep missing me, never brave enough to truly face me. Just waiting for the right moment to get at 'em." he growled. Oh, how strong-willed he sounded, considering he always gave up mid-chase. You looked over Crowley for a second and got almost startled at how dour his face was. You bit your lip and focused back on Bobby (not that it wasn't his name; you just didn't care enough to call him something else).

"Oooh, I'm sure you'll find the right moment to strike once you muster enough courage to step out of your mud puddle." He briefly laughed, sardonic as always.

Heh, the way some demons made their entrance was so flattering. Now, thanks to his taunting, the two have started to get aggressive. I guess that's my cue to go.

"What the fuck did you just say?" The greasy boy said it directly to Crowley.

"Oh, I think you exactly understood what I meant." Obviously, he wouldn't back down ; you didn't expect anything else from him.

Calling off the spell, you stood up. Your legs were wobbly, and you tried to stabilise yourself. And leaned casually against the trunk.

"Well, what do we have here ? Hiding away from the city, I see. Why ? Was I too intimidating for you ?" you bugged. You saw his sludge vest boil, his face scrunching, and his awful teeth showing. His little friend growled behind him, ready to launch right at you. How sweet. Crowley's eyes widened. He leaned back, arms crossed in front of his chest, observing what was going to happen next.

"You... I should wring your neck !" He was an impulsive little thing, so he wasted no time and jumped on you.

You dodged him, if you can call it that : you took off your branch and let him knock his head against it. The second came running in your direction; you decided to let gravity do its thing by letting yourself fall and firmly stepping on his bald head. Wow, I almost slipped there.

You jumped off and landed on the ground. You looked up at Crowley and mouthed to him "Eden". You didn't have the heart to leave her here by herself now that you were going to have a little fun. He rolled his eyes, sighed, but nodded anyway. You knew he had a soft spot for her. You smiled brightly and ran off.

"Don't let her near the Anti-Christ !" the shortest one bawled at Crowley, getting back up.

You halted for a second, quickly building up a plan B.

"Anti-Christ ? Is that so ?" You said, teasingly. You had to turn around, bending yourself into a position that conveyed every bit of smugness you could manage. Crowley's lips twitched upright.

"You idiots !" He snarled.

"Get 'em !" Bobby roared as best as his croaking voice could.

You burst into brief laughter before finally dashing off the scene. If your plan failed, you had a backup. You really liked running, but you couldn't let yourself drown in the feeling.

The smaller one sent an electric shock your way. You leaped up, flew for a brief moment, did a half-loop, and landed back down.

"Hey ! Don't get too flashy now ! You wouldn't want to be seen making an ass of yourself !" You mocked.

"Shut the fuck up !"

Rude...

The town wasn't that far away, and you wanted to get to a more populated area as soon as possible. Because, you know, your weapons weren't lethal, so we depended on your miracles. You were used to the human environment and what they would perceive as coincidences, odd occurrences, and full-on magic. They weren't, and you believed they weren't that dumb to expose themselves too much or hurt anybody.

Bobby had summoned a huge pit right in front of your feet. Luckily for you—not much for them—you had explored everything your human body could do, including physical effort. You grounded your feet, flexed your slightly trained legs, and leaped over the trap.

You took a sharp turn, arriving in some kind of small square, and climbed up the metal fence, winning some time. Now that people could see you, you started running, but no one was in sight. Ugh. Ooh, expect those two wild geese, plainly walking around. You smiled, determined. You materialised your bow and visualised their bound. Mmh ! Better than you expected. You could give it multiple forms; get utterly creative. This time it looked like a mini-crossbow for stealth. You put your weapon on your forearm, aimed for their chest, and let go. The geese quacked, chocked by the sudden rush of emotions. Bound complete.

You skipped past them like an antelope, nearing the entrance of the park, leading into town. More people wondered in the street, and some intended to enter the square. Worry squeezed your chest ; your breathing was itching. Please don't hurt them.

They didn't bother slowing down, recklessly running in your direction. Your brows frowned, irrated by their stupor. Mud Pie ignored the cuddling geese and violently pushed a man's shoulder with his.

"Hey ! What in the bloody hell is wrong with you, man ?" The man yelled after him, holding his arm in pain.

You took a step back. No holding back. Two were too much of a handful right now; you had to get rid of one of them.

You took two steps back. So, unwillingly, you miraculously shoved one of the geese onto the second guy. Panicked and certainly repulsed by his slimy appearance, the poor thing started to attack the pariste with all its might. Without a second thought, the mate started chasing as well. The demon desperately tried to shove the two off, but so satisfyingly failed.

You didn't have time to further appreciate the show, as your dear friend didn't even glance in his companion's direction. He was like a bulldozer, ready to wipe you off the map. You took a step back and collided with an old woman.

"Oh, I am so sorry, madam ! I really apologise !"

"No worries, dear, but why are you in such a hurry ?"

The road was right here, and you saw a car coming your way. Go across and let the car hit him. Let's go.

"Mh... Life's too short ! You must enjoy it," you said, sending a happy memory orb her way. No time to waste !

You ran as fast as was naturally possible to the other side. You looked over to the other side. Everything was blurry. Great. He was coming. The car ? Not fast enough.

The black car seemed to accelerate at the last crossroad and was steering incredibly fast. Come on, come on ! Knock him out.

He was crossing the road ! ... But you gasped in terror when you saw him pulling the grandma with him. He had pushed her as well, in front of him.

His eyes snapped at the car and morphed into those of a deer caught in headlights.

He walked forward, taking the woman with him in the process. They both fell to the ground abruptly.

The car brutally stopped.

"Miss !" you cried, fright gnawing at your insides. You dropped to your knees and shoved the mud boy away from her, checking for bruises. Broken wrist. You winced and very discretely healed it. You scanned your surroundings and almost felt your ears peek up in interest.

The Bentley.

Crowley.

"Sorry, Madam, for the incident. I hadn't expected to so suddenly cross the road," he said, his glasses hiding the not-so-guilty expression. "You were lucky this man was here to save you". The smirk he wore was devilish; he barely hid his nature, and you were honestly surprised no one had found out his true nature yet. It was so obvious.

A crowd had formed around you, people helping the poor granny and the cunt up. Crowley approached, trying his best to correct his walk.

Oh, that's right ! Where did he go ?" A bystander wondered, searching for the mysterious, dirty man.

"Maybe he's shy and couldn't appreciate all the praise he would receive for saving a person's life." You smiled in your own charming way to dispel all suspicions. Still, the secret meaning behind it made Crowley scoff.

"Will you be alright, ma'am ?" you asked.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. It's always good to know that my heart can still go through so many emotions and still be up and running." Her lighthearted laugh brought a small, tender smile to your face. You parted ways and went to Crowley.

"C'mon, sweetheart, I'll give you a lift home," he said, looking away. He seemed upset, so you tried to humour him.

"Really ?! Can I drive ?" You beamed at him, your eyes eager to receive a refusal.

"Never. Again." His teeth were grinding so much that you wondered if they would break. You pouted but didn't insist. Suddenly, you remembered your little companion.

"Eden ! Oh, my poor girl ! Where is she ?" "You grabbed the demon's arm. You were actually much more tactile than Aziraphale and him, but they got accustomed to it.

He stopped, looked back, and rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I put her in the trunk of the car." He nonchalantly explained as he sat down.

Wait... W-Where...

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You absolutely didn't want to live with your poor baby in a small, cramped place, so Crowley accepted to go back near the dear little Anti-Christ place to check on your mini cow and pick up Aziraphale. You quickly got rid of your seatbelt and raced out.

When you opened the trunk, you sighed when you heard Crowley complaining about your "brutality.".

Mh, at least I'm not a barbarian who stuffed a baby cow into the back of a car.

You stopped mid-thought when you saw what the interior really looked like. Crowley had manipulated the space inside and made it wide enough for Eden to fit in nicely. It looked like a small meadow, too.

"Aww, Crowley !" you squealed in his direction as he was pretending not to see you.

"Ooh, my dear baby Eden ! Are you okay ? Are you good ?" You reached out and pulled her out. She rubbed her head against your belly and mooed lovingly. You kissed her forehead.

"Ooh, you really took good care of you, huh ? " You quickly glanced at him and saw him tensing up. He knew what you were going to say, and you smirked, delighted. "Yeah, you're right, he really likes you ! I totally agree. What a nice guy he is indeed."

"Don't you call me that !" he exclaimed, literally fuming.

"Shh, don't scream this way at her!" you lightly scolded.

"Oh, like hell, I'm going to let you insinuate things like that," he groaned. So easy.

You started to jump around, going down slowly like a feather. Eden happily did the same.

"I'm solely stating facts! You are a good demon—ah!" you screamed, surprised when he started to try to catch you.

"Come down here, you little minx !" He snarled, frustrated at your agility.

You stooped your tongue out, Eden still running around cheerful as always.

"What are you two doing ?" A familiar voice asked, deeply confused and surprisingly joyful at the same time.

"Aziraphale ! Hi !" you waved as your feet connected to the ground again.

Crowley was right behind you, hands twitching and mumbling complaints mixed with threats. Even if you knew that the angel had already seen the upset and irrated side of Crowley, you still needed to point out his good deeds!

Every opportunity mattered!

"Is everything alright ?" No time to worry ; you've got to praise!

"Yes, yes, of course ! It's just that Crowley doesn't want to admit how nice he's been today." You got behind the raging demon and gently shoved him towards Aziraphale.

"Oh, really, Crowley ? How come ?" He teased and smiled almost slyly.

You slowly backed off, letting the two interact in peace.

"Argh, it was nothin'. Just some demon who tried to jeopardise the mission, and Y/N over there immediately jumped in and lurked them away." He looked at you while saying it. You smiled with tight lips before I tilted my head for him to continue.

"And, urgh, well, I followed them and helped get rid of the nuisance." It almost burned his tongue.

"Aaand, you made Eden a comfy little space in the back of the Bentley!" you said, in the most jovial tone, making him growl.

"Aww, Crowley ! So do you have a soft spot for her, uh ?" He looked so touched. He was so adorable, you couldn't help but smile. Crowley looked bashful for a second before turning away.

"Oh, shut up. I only did it because I know what an awful thing you two feed her, so I just thought she deserved a little treat." He calmly taunted.

Awful things ?! Wait up a minute, mister !

Aziraphale regularly accepted keeping Eden with him when you had to work for a long time. He even arranged a room for her; he was very fond of her. And the food you gave her was the most healthy grass and hay you could find. Aziraphale was the one who helped you pick up a kind.

"She's perfectly healthy and happy; thank you very much !" You sprinted his way. He held up his hands in innocence, though his smirk revealed his thoughts.

"Of course, but also utterly bored." He leaned in, his smugness emanating from his whole body.

"Sure." You crossed your arms. "Because you know everything about having fun, Mister, I will never let you drive !" Yes. You were pouting. No. You will not apologise.

"Ooh, believe me, sweetheart, you're lucky I even let you near it."

Alright, so Crowley might not have appreciated how you drove the Bentley, but you both ended up having a great time ! Well, you and the car. But since you had driven with so much energy, it actually encouraged the demon to steer a little bit slower. You just shrugged the comment away.

"She's not a kart nor a race car, for that matter !" He exclaimed, throwing his arms everywhere.

"Don't underestimate her ; she's capable of a lot of things." You closed your eyes and nodded slowly. "Ah, such a shame you don't realise it..."

Speaking of realizing...

Shit. Aziraphale.

Great work, love angel. You felt bad for neglecting him and a weight settled on your shoulders.

"Anyway ! How was your day, Azi' ?" You gazed back, ignoring Crowley's ramble. The angel was facing the horizon, his absence crystal clear in his eyes. He snapped out of it, though, and a tight smile crept in.

"It went perfectly well, thank you ! Now, can we please head back to the bookshop so we can discuss our respective summonings ?" His hands were joined behind his back as he went to climb in.

"Of course ! W-Wait ! I'll go behind; this way I'll be close to Eden." You laughed nervously. Damn, you were way smoother with your other clients than with these two.

"No problem, Y/N." He simply said and smiled at you sweetly. Ah, what an angel, right ? Unworthy was what you were.

You heard Eden mooing in protest as Crowley picked her up to stuff her in again.

"C'mon, big girl, in you go- no ! No ! Not the jacket !" You tried to suppress your laughter at the sight.

"Hop on in, dear."

Aziraphale was holding the door open for you. You overdid your bow and got comfortable on the back seats, with the guardian doing the same after you. You felt guilt watching you from afar, ready to slay your throat.

"Let go, Eden ! Let go ! AAARGH-"

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"No need to overreact..."

"Overreact ?! She ate my jacket! Ugh... so ungrateful..."

Aziraphale shot him a disapproving look but didn't add anything; instead, he grabbed the torn fabric and fixed it.

"There. All gone."

The angel sat back on his seat but couldn't keep his eyes from rolling as Crowley kept on wailing about your mini cow's "betrayal". As for you, you enjoyed being the only one back there and having all this space to yourself.

You safely lay there, your mind drifting as you watched the pair talk to each other. A mushy smile painted on your face. The gentle melody of the song "Too Much Love Will Kill You", by Queen, gave the impression of a waltz in your small, confined space. Your hand was massaging your scalp to sooth you and your drumming heart. Your smile fainted with a sigh. Control your emotions, you repeated to yourself. But when you felt, you lived it thoroughly. And deep down, you suffered from it. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to bring an angel and a demon together. And you weren't supposed to stand in between them.

Your hand slide down your body and firmly grabbed your right arm. Aziraphale was upset; you sensed it through your own emotions. He was hoping to spend time with Crowley alone without you teasing him for your own amusement. You couldn't stand in the way. You didn't want to ruin it for them. You were running out of time.

Stay away from them. Let them be...

Your chest ached as tears welled up in your eyes. The seats squeaked as you turned around, your back facing the road. Eyes shot tight, lips shivered, and a lonesome whimper crossed the barrier of your mind. The sound alerted the angel, his nature urging him to react.

"What's wrong, dear ? Do you feel ill ?"

His concern will be your death.

"Just worried, that's all," you lazily replied, seeking to close the conversation as soon as possible and give your spotlight away.

Don't worry about me...

"No need; I'll be there to help you ! Once we get to the bookshop, we'll plan out our side of the story and stick to it." You felt his eyes on you.

Forget about me...

"Don't fuss about it." Crowley said as well. "Y'know, they're... well, they're not very bright." He laughed in a breath. Aziphale couldn't restrain himself from laughing either.

A smile brushed your cheeks, not strong enough to remain there, but warmth at least tried to make its way to your heart. You looked up hesitantly, and your eyes met Aziraphale's... affectionate? You blushed involuntarily. Not affection, but compassion. Sympathy even !

Bashful, you quickly turned your eyes and looked at the interior mirror. Crowley must have sensed your eyes on him, because he almost instantly looked up at you through the mirror and winked. You rolled over again and hugged yourself tightly.

Mmph...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I didn't expect it to be so long, but if I continue it would really be way too long 😭

Hope you enjoyed it ! I'll try my best to post once a week !

Parts : Previous - Next

Tag list : @legendary-maddie @kpop-athena @drugs-for-memes @emo-queer-boi @cunning-girl @mochikofi

#good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #micheal sheen #neil gaiman #crowley x reader x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #lgbtq #polyamory #twoscompanythreesafamily

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ms-nesbit · 5 months

Text

Sweet home chicago (jason todd x afab!reader)

chapter one

Rating: 18+

Warnings: eventual smut, swearing, father figure dick grayson, skater tim drake, sad jason todd :(

Summary: dick and tim trick jason into taking a vacation in chicago. There, he meets someone he hopes to never forget.

Note: im sorry for dipping, yall. I really had some important things to take care of.

ao3

Amber and rose peeked through the hedge between the array of buildings on Michigan Avenue. Jason blended himself with the sea of tourists and chic aristocrats. He didn’t necessarily stick out like a sore thumb, as there were a few Chicagoans dressed casually like him; even in the late-November evening, he sported his signature red hoodie and straight fit jeans, tattered and dirty near the hem. No matter what, he wanted to appear mildly stressed, only mildly, so as to not draw more attention to himself than his six-foot-four frame already did.

He wondered how he got here. Was it the phone call from Dick, or the two dozen from Tim? Could it have been neither, and he perhaps wanted to rush the plane during the busiest season, nudged in a lousy middle seat between an obnoxious preteen and a middle-aged woman watching poorly edited, extremist conservative media? To be fair, Jason treated himself to Portillo’s once he left the airport - a well-earned reward for not lashing out at the self-absorbed individuals beside him.

He stepped briskly, moving in sync with the less-anxious of the crowd toward the shopping district notoriously named Magnificent Mile. On his left ear, he heard the excitement in the tune of indistinguishable conversations and the season’s final water taxis boarding; in his right, a wireless earbud, softly playing his childhood favorite, Diana Ross and the Supremes.

Once he reached the other end of the bridge, he strolled to the sidewalk in front of Tribune Tower, pulling his phone out and indiscreetly sending a message of his coordinates to-

A call. “As much as I love the smell of fish, garbage, and the crooked CPD, why did you and Tim want me here?” Jason was more curious than upset, but he’d rather not disclose his true feelings to his brothers.

“C’mon, Jay, it’s the Windy City! You ever been to Chicago?” Dick asked. “Beautiful everything here. Tim’s at the Van store up the street, and I’m grabbing a slice of pizza across from ya. You wanna come over and get a slice, grumpy? You get a little hangry sometimes.”

Jason sighed, and his stomach grumbled in response to the offer. “Alright, but I’m not goin’ outside. I sat next to some wackjob on the flight who sounded like she needed to be in the looney bin, and I’m not lookin’ to make friends.” As he spoke, he quickly turned his head before dashing across the busy street, waving off a car blaring its horn at him. “What’do’ey have?”

“How about you see?” Dick approached Jason, smiling mischievously. Jason ended the call, moving his eyes to Dick’s hands behind his back. “Guess what I got?”

“Dick, I’m not in the mood for games-”

“Ta-da!” Dick shifted in his coat, revealing a white box with a drawn pizza and the name Lou Malnati’s on it. Jason pretended like his mouth didn’t water at the smell of grease and garlic. “I had ‘em make a classic cheese with those square slices. How about we sit down on the riverfront and talk?”

And talk. No matter the temptation, be it a buttery, gooey pizza right under Jason’s nose, he still believed it wasn’t worth the compromise of having to make more than small talk with others. “Listen, Dickie, as much as I appreciate the offer, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about-”

“Dude, this isn’t about Artemis, if that’s what you’re about to say.” Dick shrugged in his beige peacoat, a piece of his thick, navy, knitted cardigan spilling from his waist. “I just want to, y’know, see if you want to go to this thing tonight.”

Jason cocked a brow in his theatrical manner. “So you and Tim badgered me, had me fly all the way to goddamn Chicago, all to just talk over some overpriced pizza?” Around him, he felt the glare of customers, but he doubled down, giving them knowing looks. “I’ve been here. Want a real place? Go to the goddamn place off Clark and Dickens. You’ll thank me later.”

Dick rolled his eyes, already tired by Jason’s heels in the sand. “Always gotta be a drama queen. Just…come with me. I’ll explain once we’re out of earshot.” His voice was hushed, signaling Jason to follow suit. They walked together to the riverwalk, sitting on the cold high-risen edging. Dick delicately opened the lid of the box, revealing the savory American delicacy and motioning for Jason to take the first slice.

Once Jason reached for the slice, taking his first bite and stretching the rosemary-seasoned cheese from its bed atop the crust, Dick began. “Tim and I were thinking that the three of us could use a break.” Jason grumbled indistinctly into his pizza slice, swirling the string of cheese around his tongue in a tight noose. “Bruce has been a handful lately - I mean, he always is - and I think it would be a good lesson for him to finally be on his own instead of taking us for granted, y’know?”

Jason nodded, rearranging his food to one side of his mouth so he could speak with the other. “You do know that Bruce is probably better off without me, right? Since I-” he swallowed the food, kissing the excess sauce and garlic from his teeth, “leave a ‘pretty big mess’, as he says.”

“You also help. Gang-related crime decreased about 37 percent when Red Hood regularly patrolled, and the Gotham Gazette did a poll, based on before and after Red: thanks to Red Hood, 6 out of 10 female Gothamites feel safe walking home at night, compared to the 3 out of 10 prior to Red Hood’s introduction.”

The statistic surprised Jason. He was used to the smearing from Justice League’s best, so it was nice to hear a compliment for a change. “And Timmy’s on board with this?” He didn’t hesitate to take a second slice, while Dick left the pizza untouched.

“He was the one who coined it.” Dick looked out at the river, mildly put off by Jason’s shameless eating habits. “We were patrolling one night and he just said it out of the blue. I get it, though.” He pursed his lips, staring wistfully. “I couldn’t tell you before because then you wouldn’t agree to it.”

Dick was right: when he’d offer to take Jason in after they reconciled, Jason refused. Though not Bruce’s blood son, Jason was comparably stubborn, sometimes surpassing the Dark Knight. “And where are we gonna stay?”

“That’s the best part.” Dick finally reached for a slice, folding it in half and dipping a chunk into his mouth to cut from the slice. “Tim hacked into Bruce’s business travel account and used some of his points to book a stay at some fancy place called Waldalf…lemme check.” Dick reached into his peacoat pocket and pulled out his phone, checking the reservation. He continued to chew, as did Jason, and Dick leaned over to show Jason the reservation email. “Astoria. It’s a couple of blocks here, I think. Worst case, we can just use a taxi or Uber there or something.”

“I’m banned from using Uber.” Jason said nonchalantly, squinting at the details on Dick’s pristine phone screen before looking the name up for himself. “I can walk as long as I can have another slice.”

Dick blinked at Jason blankly before glancing at the remnants of the pizza. “Take the small one right there.” Removing a wrinkled, discolored restaurant napkin from his back pocket, Jason snatched the slice with an asymmetrical, genuine smile, now holding a slice in each hand. Dick bit his tongue in his mouth to keep himself from laughing. If he hadn’t held a slice in his, he would have snapped a photo to send to the family group chat. “We’re already checked in, so just bring whatever luggage you have with you.”

Jason looked up from his slices like a deer in the headlights. “Sorry, I didn’t think to bring anything other than the usual.” With a slice, he vaguely gestured to his dirty clothes.

“I was…expecting that.” Dick chuckled lightly. “I brought you some clothes so you could go out and enjoy yourself for a change.” He spotted Jason’s eye roll. “You’re in your twenties, for crying out loud. Enjoy yourself! Make a friend. Would it kill you to just live?”

As Jason shook his head, a few strands of grey fell from his messily combed back hair and onto his forehead. “What, is coming back from the dead and seeking vengeance to blood-thirsty psychopaths not living?”

“No, it’s not.” a voice came from the other side of the riverwalk, by the bustling street: a lanky-built male, wearing a beige Santa Cruz sweatshirt and dark jeans, strolled on his skateboard toward the brothers. “And by the way, Jason, you look no different than the bourgeoisie skimming the racks at Urban Outfitters over there.” Jason’s frown dropped at Tim, already bugged by him. “Me and Dick were basically wanting you to, y’know, socialize like a normal human being. I know you’re an introvert, I get that, but you’ve gotta, y’know…converse.”

Jason stood from the platform, brushing the suggestion from his broad shoulders. “Jesus, and you wonder why I don’t want to hang out with you guys.” he made an excuse and walked back toward Michigan Ave, finishing his slices along the way.

“By the way, Dick.” Tim nudged Dick with his elbow, showing him a photo of zoomed-in Jason, a few minutes earlier, smiling goofily with his two slices of pizza pie.

Dick erupted into laughter, doubling over and nearly knocking over the box.

“You got the terrace suite?” Jason muttered in blustering shock. “Bruce is going to be so pissed.” His lips stretched into a wide smile.

He plopped onto the sleeper sofa, sprawling his limbs out to relax. Dick assigned Jason to the couch (“Finder’s keepers!”), while Dick and Tim each slept in their separate rooms. “We already received a warning about how you’re dressed, Jason, so if you could please promptly change into something more appropriate, I’m sure this stay would be more enjoyable for all of us.” Dick managed to remain calm while conveying, despite the fatherly-level of disappointment underneath his skin.

Heeding Dick’s advice, Jason made his way to Dick’s room, where he opened up the luggage Dick neatly packed for him: a pair of dress shoes, two pairs of socks and boxer briefs (all red, for continuity’s sake), along with a lightweight, tightly knitted sweater, t-shirt, long-sleeve undershirts, and two pairs of slacks (one beige, one black). Jason sighed halfheartedly, bummed by the array chosen for him. He knew, of course, it was his responsibility to select his own attire, but of course he’d forgotten it, lost in the chaos of his everyday life; Dick anticipated Jason’s reaction, and packed something nonetheless, and although grateful, Jason still hesitated to express it.

While Tim and Dick explored the depths of downtown, Jason immersed himself into the room, quietly exploring the channels that Astoria offered.

Knock, knock. “Housekeeping!”

Jason yelled back, “Come in.” while munching on a bag of corn chips on the couch, eyes lasered on the television screen.

The housekeeper, wearing a black and sky blue uniform, pushed his trolley in. “Are you enjoying your stay, Sir?”

Jason shrugged. “My ma was a housekeeper for a bit. Don’t worry about the ‘sir’ stuff, it’s all good.” The response was new to the employee, who stood for a moment before excusing himself to clean the bathroom and bedrooms.

“Sir,” the housekeeper returned, gripping the trolley behind him with a single hand. “Would you mind vacating the room while I clean, or should I return if you are…busy?”

Jason looked at the chip crumbs on his hoodie before looking back at the housekeeper. “I’ve no problem leaving. I’ve gotta change, so I’ll go the other room. Could you just lock the door when you leave?”

“Absolutely, Sir.” the housekeeper said before Jason shut the bathroom door, slacks and sweater in hand.

—

Stepping out from the courtyard of the hotel premises, Jason wandered down the corner, unable to prevent himself from making grotesque faces at the high-end stores nearby. The breeze chilled the skin on his face to the point where it eventually felt like he was kissed by needles, and he unlocked his phone to find a place to settle down and (hopefully) eat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an approaching blotch of yellow and blue, to which he immediately hailed down. A taxi parked along the curb, and Jason hopped in. “Could you please take me away from here? Some place with some good food?”

The driver gave Jason a look of uncertainty, pondering before nodding and starting the meter.

Jason sat back and relaxed as giant metallic letters standing proudly on top of clear, godliness glass storefronts began to disappear, one by one, until they were replaced with bulletins and signs, and tented storefronts matched with painted, worn down brickwork.

He exhaled in relief. Despite living with Bruce and his luxurious lifestyle, the unspoken language of wealth was still foreign to Jason. He didn’t understand why the affluent would whisper, and why evil would poison their tongue and burn away at their heart once their financial wealth accrued.

After slipping the taxi driver a couple of hundred dollar bills, Jason abruptly left the vehicle, reading the name of the restaurant to himself. “Like the song…?” he asked the driver, who nodded.

“Different spelling, different things.”

Jason inhaled nasily, chest rising. “Alrighty, thanks, man.”

The driver nodded once again before waving and merging back into traffic. Jason entered the restaurant and was instantly greeted with sweet and savory notes, causing Jason’s stomach to cramp in pain. He walked up to the counter, so clean that he could almost make his reflection out, and waited for an employee to serve him. While he waited, he studied the menu: sandwiches, soups, and more appetizers to choose from. He chewed on his bottom lip, distressed when deciding between pasteles (mix of plantain mix and meat, wrapped in a banana leaf) or mofongo (stuffed plantain).

“When you’re ready, I can take you.” A voice notified him as he stood like a bronze statue before the menu.

He didn’t take his eyes off the photos above the counter. “Sorry about this, I’m a first timer - what are your pasteles filled with?”

“Usually pork or chicken, but we make them with cheese now since there are some vegetarians.”

“Could I have just pasteles, one with cheese filling and one with chicken?” Jason asked.

The clerk pressed a button on the register, which was a tablet with a brightly lit screen. “Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Yeah, and…pastellitos de guayaba? Can I have that, too? And water.”

The clerk pressed the screen a few times, noting down Jason’s order. “Of course. For here or to go?”

Jason finally tore his eyes from the menu to look at the clerk, and his mouth fell open at the sight of the clerk: hair was tightly curled, coiled from their roots; lips plump and glossy, appearing much more enticing to Jason than the food he ogled at.

“Here.” he stuttered, feeling heat rise up to his neck. The clerk smiled at him, and they placed their hand on their wide hip, bringing Jason’s eye to it.

“It’ll be ready in a bit. We’ll bring it to your seat, yeah? Sientate.” They motioned with their nose at the dining area, a selection of polished wooden chairs and tables to choose from.

Before he could ask for their name, the clerk rushed to the kitchen of the restaurant, repeating his order to the rest of the staff. Jason watched them walk away, their bottom half swaying in the leggings they wore, before he realized his leering and chose an empty seat and table near the colorful mural.

Thoughts rushed to the tall man’s head, some impure ones welcoming themselves for the first time since he and Artemis parted. Their relationship was, in short, complicated, and neither of them were fully transparent toward another, leading to the inevitable diffusion of the once-kindled fire; it didn’t break Jason’s heart, but rather disappointed him, and he felt that his fate of inescapable loneliness was encapsulated.

The clerk reappeared from the kitchen, holding two plates of food. They walked past Jason, ignoring whatever eye contact he attempted to make at them, and attended to the table diagonally from his. “Y te quedas a tu mama, ok?” They spoke warmly but sternly to the couple, before leaving with a grin. “And you,” they pointed at Jason, “your pastellios should be ready in one to two minutes, okay?”

Jason nodded frantically, popping an optimistic grin. “Can’t wait.”

“I know.” they winked at Jason before turning back around and walking through the revolving door leading to the kitchen. Jason felt something distant in his stomach. Perhaps hunger?

In a few minutes, the mysterious clerk returned, holding what Jason hoped was his food. When they arrived at his table, settling the plates down delicately before handing him cutlery and a glass, he beamed first at the food, then at the beautiful clerk. He didn’t know which he was more excited for. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem.” they returned his smile, eyes glistening at him. “Our chef is working on something else for you to carry out, free of charge. Can’t let you starve out on us, right, big guy?” their eyes briefly scanned Jason’s figure, which caused Jason’s cheeks to flush a bright pink.

They’re hitting on me, the fuck. “Thanks! I was hoping maybe I can come back, get your name?”

“Oooh, I like the sound of that.” their voice dipped an octave, and Jason swore he felt his pants tighten under the table. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “How about I save you the trouble and tell ya now, that way next time you can take me out for dessert?”

Jason smirked at them, slowly checking their figure out before focusing his attention back on their eyes. “Sure.”

“It’s y/n.” they purred, reaching their hand to rest on Jason’s bicep. Their skin was soft, yet calloused. “And you are…?”

“Jason.” he grinned. “Sorry, I’m new at this.”

“Don’t worry.” they assured. “I’m here if you need anything. And if you decide to take me on that offer, my number is in the check right there.” they pointed to the black checkbook beside the plates of food. Jason’s skin was burning under their touch, and when y/n had to leave, Jason felt a twinge of sadness when they retracted their hand.

Unraveling his cutlery from the napkin, Jason made sure to make an important phone call before his vacation ended.

#mine #my post #jason todd #robin #batfamily #red hood #dc #dcu #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x reader #jason todd x plus size reader #yes the reader is plus size fuck u #plus size reader #adab!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

Note

fic writing ask game: 4 and 13!!

Hello!

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Assuming that their wording here was meant like "your three favorite fics currently" and not a demand to link "your three favorite fics ever right this minute," here are a few I've been returning to lately! (I've really had Steve accidentally getting his feelings crushed/revealing fucked up coping mechanisms on the brain, so there's a theme!)

perfectly misaligned by @emchant3d Honestly, I adore em's version of Steve and Eddie and anything by them is going to get a rec from me, but this one is a particular favorite. Draws the tension out just long enough that the comfort feels thoroughly earned once we crack Steve like an emotional egg <3

Still So Much to Learn by @bonitabreezy I love this one because a) it speaks a bit to the fandom's casual disregard for Steve's canon style and interests and eloquently addresses how dismissing the things someone enjoys can be as harmful as dismissing the person themself, and b) such well-written hurt/comfort

the bitterness of an apology on the tongue by loverboysteve (I know they have a Tumblr but I can't remember what it is right now, if someone knows it, I'll link it!) I just. really enjoy reading about Steve having fucked up coping mechanisms he thinks are Perfectly Normal™ because this is the way it's always been, only for someone who cares about him to go "Steve, what the fuck" and then deal with the emotional fallout. I'm so glad we all seem to agree on this

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

So here's the thing. I have two settings when it comes to writing: strict outline, and "I know the ending, that's good enough." If I outline something, I have a lot of trouble deviating from it even when the story wants to pull naturally into what might be a better direction, so I feel like my writing is a lot better when it comes from the second method. Unfortunately, my memory isn't... as good as it used to be, so if I'm writing something a bit longer or with a lot of things happening at once that I want to keep track of, I need to outline it

On the other hand, this means that my outlines are really more like very rough first drafts. I can't just stick random words in there and hope I'll remember what they mean later, so I write down ideas and plot points in full, sometimes with dialogue attached. The only thing that might give someone a headache is the structure; I use that tiered bullet point feature in Word and indent things as the mood takes me. Trying to decipher my method of organization when I write it by hand might prove even more frustrating, but if you can get past that, you get a fairly complete story!

Fic Writer Ask Game

#devondespresso #thank you for sending this #I feel so crappy today and answering some questions was a very nice distraction <3 #might be why it's a little long-winded though sorry D:#answers from solar

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sunnixsunshine · 2 months

Text

UUUUUUUH heres the one piece au/thing!!!! Ive got time skip designs for these guys so far but Im still figuring certain things out. Plus slight changes for when they enter the grandline but those are going thru a few revisions rn :d

Ive been having a loooooot of fun talking about this with my friend over on discord lol, it takes place roughly 300 years after Luffy’s story. Yoko, reincarnated Luffy himself, is the captain of the Smiling Pirates. Theres also Oppie, a descendant of Usopp, very book and sailing smart, the crew’s navigator. Greer is a military pilot, a talented shooter with impeccable aim, Nami’s descendant. Both Silas and Mamoru are descendants of Zoro and Sanji(we ship zosan, we’re having some cringe fun lol) cousins with differing personalities ut shared trauma. Silas learned to fight defending his family farm, hes the crew’s cook. And Mamoru has possible brain damage from using his head one too many times— literally. Trained boxer and in deep debt.

More stuff to em but i dont wanna put it all in one post, but there are more crew members/characters under the cut!!

In order:

1) Silphion is the crew’s doctor, Mint is his late daughter. Fin is the bunny. I wanna show him off now, but I wanna draw some stuff for their story :)

2) “Captain” Hopper* of the Jasmine crew. He’s Yoko self proclaimed enemy. He doesnt have his own crew, unless you count the puppy dog and guinie pig. Got a high bounty from a mistake with cannon trajectory ending in the marines calling him Huggy the pyromaniac. Cant confirm if hes a descendant of Buggy or related in some other way. Cries more than he fights. Not taken seriously by anyone around him. Theres sooooo much more I wanna say but hnnnnngh I cant rnnnnnn

3) Oppie’s dad Auden. Joined the marines for the free boat. Not serious about it, literally got thru everything just for the boat. Only desire was to get to chill on the open water. BUT dont underestimate him, Auden is a marine captain and not canned for a reason. Never was around for Oppie for long but sends gifts thru the mail all the time. Its not his fault, his ex is just a huge jerk :( literally just wants to cloud gaze, dont tell him to go catch his pirates…

*Hopper IS NOT his final name, its his stand in name for now. Probably. I havent found a better name yet lol

#this is cringe i knowwwwwww #but me and my friend are having fuuuuuuuuun #i just met chopper btw im screaming i love him so muchhhhhhhh #one piece #one piece au #one piece oc #zosan #zoro x sanji #ayo zoro sanji your great x whatever grandkids are traumatized come get em #GOD i cant wait to ramble on about mamoru and oppie lmaooooo #one piece 300 years au

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olivia091108 · 6 months

Text

Drunken haze

Summary:you and Steve o on a night out

Word count: 1342

Pairing:Steve o x reader

The whole of the jackass crew was out celebrating the wrap of jackass the movie at a bar even tho we’re all so fucking tired. I wore a black mini skirt and a crop top which makes my boobs look tit-tastic and wearing some black boots suck look so sexy.

We all got here about 11:30 and got straight into shots before Chris dares me to do a suicide shot and he will buy me my next 5 drinks and that was a done deal even though it hurt like a Bitch all of them cheered me on though and I did try to convince Preston to do it with me but he pussied out

1:00am

Bams walked in carrying a skateboard he must’ve stolen from someone outside and I quickly grabbed my drink off the bar before bam skated across knocking loads of peoples drinks off.

I was dying of laughter clinging onto Ryan so I don’t fall when a biker started to chase bam around the bar cos he knocked his drink and wasn’t paying even though we all know bam has the money.

I don’t know what happened but bam walked back in through the front door and had a huge smile on his face he probably messed with the guy and did something horrible like usual.

1:30

The bar was still thriving which made it even harder for us to get served with the rest of the crowed shouting at the bar tenders to make their drinks. So we lifter wee man over and he grabbed a few bottles from behind the bar and passed them over quickly and we scurried to the back of the bar and I challenged Johnny to a bet

Who’ve can get darf out first chooses the losers punishment

“Dave come do shots!” I get Dave to do 4 shots with me bffs Knox drags him away and it goes back and forth and to be honest I thought darf would be here by now.

I head to the bathroom and as soon as I come out I see darf running about and sweating in peoples faces once he spots me he picks me up and drops me onto ehren and we just watch darf mess about.

“Darf I dare you to snort the salt”Steve o says already making a big line

This goes on for a good hour at least until he started to pick up the chairs and dash it across the bar probably hitting people and he had to be escorted out and Preston left with him saying that he needs to get up early. BORE

3:00

Let’s do some body shots bam shouts and they all get very excited to do it all hoping to do it with me.

Y/n since your the only lovely lady here were drawing tooth picks whoever gets shortest does it.

I slowly see each of their faces drop once they pick their stick until ryan happily shouts that he had the shortest.

Mom the table y/n Ryan tells me I can hear the excitement in his voice

Actually Dunn I was thinking that I do the body shot off you.

Alright but be warned I haven’t showed in a couple days.

I lick his neck and put some salt on put the lime in his mouth and then begin. I slowly lick off the salt making the group oooh and drink the shot no hands and take the kind out his mouth by kissing him a bit wich I hope he enjoyed.

The night carried on like this till 3:45 when everyone was getting tired and wanted to leave

Cmon guys one more hour

Nah it’s late I’m gonna pass out soon

I ahve press in the morning Jeff would kill me if I’m too hungover

Sorry y/n next time

With all of them leaving I knew who I could count on to stay. I grab Steve o’s hand and get on my knees and start begging him to stay

Steve o please you know how much fun we have don’t be boring just another hour.

“Yeah dude.” I jump up and fling myself onto him and he spins em round before we say bye and head back into the bar.

We drink a lot more and still ahve as much fun without them. With Steve o anything could be fun even doing bills he would do something to make me laugh.

5:00

We were the last two inside and they have been asking us to leave but we don’t want to just yet steve o even tried to but the bar so we could stay longer.

I climbed onto the bar and pretended to be a stripper on the counter but when the a manger came out and started to shout at us and call the police I grabbed some tequila and grabbed onto Steve o’s shoulder and he helped me jump down and we ran out of their even with my heals I could outrun him.

“Omg Steve I’m so hungry are you hungry?”

“I’m fucking starving”

“Let’s go and get a kebab”

5:30

We are walking down the street and both devouring the dinner kebab when Steve o makes me laugh so much and I put my hand out to grab onto the pole but miss it by a mile and I just feel my body collide with the floor.

It doesn’t even hurt i just start laughing and hear Steve o begin to aswell until he’s crouching holding his stomach. Once our laughter has died down i see that Steve o dropped the rest of the kebab and I roughly push him.

“M’ tired”

“Samesies my place isn’t far but help me take this stupid boots off please” I bat my eyes at him and he helps me take them off and we both start waking with my boots in my left hand and I try to dodge all the broken glass

It took us twice as long as it should’ve because we were winging to eatchother and he kept putting his whole body weight on me and I thought he fell asleep then and there.

We get to my apartment building and get into the elavator and one of the other men on my floor was in there he looks like he’s going to work. Steve o stands behind him and starts to copy him wich makes us both laugh before receiving a dirty look from him and the rest of the ride up we both laugh while shushing the other.

I fumble with the key and slip it into the lock and swing the door open “stevie cmon your gonna get cold” I grab his hand and pull him up from the floor which I’m sure he would’ve slept on

I keep ahold of his hand and keep a firm grip once his eyes latch onto the sofa and continue to pull him towards my room. We both flop down onto the top of the covers and I start trying to remove my uncomfortable party clothes. Once I slide off my skirt and top I’m left in just my thong and I move over to Steve o and help him get out of his clothes but he’s not moving so it’s a lot harder than I thought.

Stevie please just sit up for literally one second I’m tryna help. He does and I raise his arms and take off his shirt revealing his hot torso I then drag his jeans down leaving him in just his boxers.

“Thanks babe” I love when steve o calls me that even though he calls everyone that I feel special when he says it to me. I slide under the covers and steve o follows suite and he’s just as quick to push himself right up against me and wrap his arms round me and lay his head on my chest using my boobs as pillows and he starts to grope them whispering things to himself and soon we are both asleep when the sun starts to come up.

I love nights out with Steve o

Omg this is actually horrendous they barley even fancied eatchother and that maybe I’ll redo it or just fix it when I have the time

Speaking of I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a week I’ve had so much home work and I’ll try and post more often (I literally only have 19 followers don’t thing anyone noticed lol)

Requests always open 😁

-liv

#liv’s writing #jackass x reader #steve o #steve o x reader

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rubyreduji · 9 months

Note

Talk about your moots; what do you like most about them (could be a paragraph or a single sentence, spread the love!!)

IM FINALLY GETTING AROUDN TO DOING THIS OKAY FDSJAKL

its too long so it's under the cut :') i just have to much love ig

MIKA (@toruro)

my mika...ah...what do i even say about her. tbh i shouldn't say anything because if i talk about why i love mika then you guys will fall in love with her too but she's MINE. jk the real reason is bc if i talked abt how much i love her i will write a whole essay BUT here are few reasons why i love mika: we just click, like i can't even remember how we went from like having one conversation to suddenly talking all the time but i would not have it any other way i love listening to mika's 30 minute voice messages and like she just supports me so much not even in a writing aspect like i can just talk abt my problems and mika will be there for me. she's also SO TALENTED??? like i will always hold her to the highest praise bc she is perfect and amazing in my eyes forever ☆☆ things that remind me of mika: coffee dates, flower fields, pretty trinkets in antique shops

BRIE (@leejihoonownsmyheart)

one of the first moots i ever made and tbh the most important one, she was the only person on this site i talked to for like months and she basically held my hand through the first few months of this blog as i figured out what the fuck i was doing and she has never been anything other than supportive. brie literally is so nice to anyone she interacts with and she just has such a sweet presence, like i love whenever we talk even if it just for a few mintues like brie really is my big sister and i will forever be greatful for her xx ☆☆ things that remind me of brie: friendship bracelets, ice cream on a hot day, blurry candid photos

SAR (@cheolhub)

me and sar's interactions are super sporadic but always so funny and i love how unhinged sar can be like she will be feral over her men and i support that like we don't talk that that much (talk to me more sar djkfsal) but like i know that it will always be such a good time ☆☆ things that remind of me sar: stars (obvi), cool sunglasses, fun wall posters

SAVV (@savventeen)

I LOVE SAVV OH MY GOD i just love talking to him like the vibes are always so chill and like he lets me bounce ideas off of them and it's so nice because i have no clue what i'm doing every and also just his fics are like a giant warm hug and so is his personality ☆☆ things that remind me of savv: pillow forts, running a successful show (theatre kids unite), board game night with your best friends

ELV (@userelv)

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND LIKE FDJKLDSLA elv is a caratblr legend in my mind like literally friends with everyone, writes the most insane amazing fics, and super unproblematic like i am blessed to be moots with her. i just love seeing her on my feed or in my activity it makes me all giddy and happy AND she tags me in snoopy content >>> taking her out on so many arbys dates fr ☆☆ things that remind me of elv: sunflowers, honey pots, fun photobooth photos

EM (@gyuswhore)

okay so em's whole energy is just the cutest thing every i can't explain it but like literally just makes me so happy whenever we interact like UGH WE SHOULK TALK MORE but also like i just feel like em is so funny i need more of her in my life and like her writing is just so feel good to me i love it so much (also soooo talented at drawing like wtf dfjklsa im obsessed) ☆☆ things that remind me of em: golden hour, late night baking, homemade jewelry

KAI (@lovelyhan)

you guys kai is just so cute and sweet and like fjdsaklf first off their blog theme is always so cute and well put together i love it and their writing???? HOLY SHIT I ASCEND EVERYTIME I READ SMTH FROM THEM but also just in general kai is so sweet and nice to talk to and like you can see that in the way they interact with people on their blog and just how everyone loves them so much (as they should) like i would love to talk to kai more just bc like i want all the good vibes they bring ☆☆ things that remind me of kai: cute novelty stamps, doodles in the margin of your notes, linking pinkies

SALEM (@hoeforcheol)

RAHHH FDSJKLSA so brie is basically the reason why salem and i are moots and its insane because like SALEM IS SO SWEET AND SUPPORTIVE??? we haven't talked in a hot second tbh but like i fr feel like i could talk to them abt anything whenever and wouldn't feel like a bother like it's just a safe feeling around salem i love being moots with her and talking to her and just everything ☆☆ things that remind me of salem: screaming to ur fav song in the car, silly inside jokes, exploring a new city with your best friend

#rru.answers #anonymous #rru.moots

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nine-of-words · 10 months

Text

No Vacancy (Part Two)

M Orc x M Merfolk Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 2915

Content Warnings: Brief depiction of Sexual Harassment, Discussion of Sex Work, Oral Sex (Reader Performs)

Noa’s POV this time!

"Here." You set the full bag of gold, your earnings from the recently finished spawning season, on the pirate’s desk.

Uttar, your debt collector, grabs the pouch from his seat behind the desk and starts counting out the coins one by one, painfully slowly.

You hate being here. The whole ship has an overbearing vibe; particularly Uttar's cabin, with its mishmash of pirated luxury goods strewn about, contrasted with the generally ratty condition of the rest of the furniture and decor. The scent of resinous cigar smoke and half-rotted wood permeates everything, staying in your nose long after you've left.

It's much less inviting than Varuj's cabin, that's for sure; but that may or may not be because of the present company.

If only he'd hurry up already… but you swear the bastard draws things out just to mess with you.

"You're short." The orc says with a grim expression.

"What?" You snap, attention focused sharp once more. "No- It should all be there. I swam here directly from Madame's place. I didn’t even stop anywhere."

"I know how to count, fish. The coins ain't there." He stresses, motioning to the splayed open gold pouch on his desk.

"Well, they should be. That's all I have."

"Oi, it'd be a real shame to have to get your folks involved…" He drums his fingers on the table. "Let 'em know about the whole situation …"

"No! No. Don’t do that.” You shake your head. The last thing you need is him giving them any idea of where you are, let alone what you’re doing to scrape by. “I'll have to make up the difference somehow.”

"Oh, I could think of some ways for you to make it up alright." The orc strokes his frizzy beard and licks the corner of his mouth in a way that makes your stomach churn. You begin to quickly recount the gold while he’s lost in thought. "You could come sit your tight behind on my lap for a spell. Gimme a peck or two. Then we can see from there-"

"Ugh. It is all there!" You finish recounting the gold as he prattles on, shoving the pouch back across the worn velvet tabletop.

Uttar erupts into deep bellows laughter at your expense.

"Man, do you need something delivered or not?" You cross your arms in exasperation. “I have places to be.”

You don’t really. But anywhere would be better than here.

"Right. Time is money, eh?" He says in a surprisingly diplomatic tone. You expected him to take rejection much worse; you've seen him blow up on others for it before.

He produces a heavy, wrapped package and sets it on the desk, before handing you the slate with directions written in grease paint. You know better than to ask what it is.

"Needs t'be there by midday tomorrow. Drop off only, so don't expect nobody." With that, he kicks his boots up on his desk, dismissing you in his usual manner. "Don't be late or I'll be having a fish fry."

You grunt a goodbye and rush out to start your next job, utterly relieved to be getting out of that suffocating place.

And before you know it- it’s been weeks.

The pace of the courier work Uttar has been giving you has been grueling, but unfortunately necessary. At least your debt is paid for another month…

These particular back-to-back jobs didn't bring you anywhere close to Varuj’s ferry ship’s route, let alone give you any time to relax.

What it has given you is enough time to mentally torture yourself about what happened last time you were here. You struggle to get it out of your head; an especially difficult task when you’re left with just the open ocean and your own thoughts.

But you’ve finally got some free time tonight, because you don’t pick up your next courier delivery until tomorrow afternoon.

Unsurprisingly, your fins brought you here when left to their own devices, your body seeking out the feeling that’s been preoccupying most of your idle mind.

You hold the key to the submerged entryway hatch of Varuj's cabin in your hand, feeling the worn spots of the metal.

You’re welcome any time, he said when he gave you the key last time when you left in the morning. But did he really mean that?

You just need to actually use the key in your hand and get into the boat, instead of swimming along, excruciatingly slow, underneath the boat.

But you’re stuck, waging an inner war with yourself.

You never even considered another merman before all of this, let alone an orc man. Especially not one you had already befriended…

It's as exciting as it is bewildering.

On one hand, fooling around like this is only going to leave your closest friendship in shambles. Things like this never seem to end with the friendship intact.

On the other hand - you clearly think he’s hot, and you’re horny.

But last time… it was spawn, anyway - Was I just out of my mind?

Your side gig as a spawn partner for hire was nearly over for the season. But the cyclone prevented you from getting to your last client and sowing your over-accumulated seed. It had to go somewhere…

But summer spawn has finished, and you’re still thinking about him like this.

Despite your attempts to convince yourself to leave - you’re still here. While you like to think your willpower is strong, you just can’t resist.

This is stupid.

You finally line the skeleton key up to the locking mechanism on the hatch. You hastily undo it and close the hatch behind you after swimming inside. Then you ascend up into the moon pool, forcing yourself upwards through the watery tunnel towards the warm light of the cabin before your better judgment kicks in.

You crest the surface with a small courtesy splash, peeking out into the familiar quarters. The air is humid here, and the scent of sandalwood immediately washes over you.

Varuj stands in front of the mirror, in the open tiled area next to the bathtub you got acquainted with last time. He has some sort of white foam along his jaw and neck, and he’s using a straight razor to remove it in slow, careful strokes.

Of more interest, he seems fresh from bathing, since he’s covered only by a towel wrapped around his waist, broad, bristly-haired chest and torso exposed. Even the sight of his slight gut peeking out over the fabric is charming to you.

Varuj’s face lights up when he sees you in the mirror, the smile on his face forcing him to momentarily pause the movement of the razor in his hand before continuing.

"Oh good, that old key still works." Varuj quips. "What brings you here this fine evening, my friend? Need a room?"

Before you realize it, you've launched into speaking without considering your response.

"I…What we did before- last time I was here," You're not used to mincing your words this much, not over this topic of all things. “I’d like to do that again.”

"Oh?" He completely stops the motion now, his smile growing somehow wider, and uses another small towel from the sink to wipe the remnants of foam from his face. "I’m glad. I’d like that too."

Equal parts relief and excitement wash over you at his positive response.

"I have to tell you something first," You brace yourself to have your burgeoning hope shattered. "Because you might change your mind."

Varuj nods, listening. At least he’s patient.

“When I told you last time I was going to Spawn, it was the truth. But I didn’t mention that it was for work.”

“Huh.” Varuj looks a bit perplexed. “I suppose people need things delivered no matter what they're doing, huh?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I was… delivering…”

There’s never an easy way to say this, is there?

"I mate with women for gold. Just during Spawn - When I'm not doing my courier job..."

"Ah." You watch his adam's apple bob visibly in his throat from the small, dry gulp.

“Yeah.” You say, ready to defend yourself and your choices as soon as the hammer drops.

“...But you’re clean?”

The fact that's his first question gives you momentary pause, but you quickly recover.

“Yeah. Regular tests; My employer takes care of that.”

“Hmm… No, if that’s the case, it doesn’t change my mind at all.”

It takes an extra moment for you to internalize his words, the tension in your shoulders dissipating along with the meaning sinking in.

“Huh. You’re sure?”

“You seem surprised.” Varuj laughs.

“Yeah.” You say, finally pulling yourself out of the water and only the tile floor now that you’re sure you’re not getting your welcome unceremoniously revoked. “Not the usual reaction at all.”

“If that’s what you choose to do for gold and it's not hurting anyone- that doesn’t have a lot to do with me, does it?”

“I guess not.”

"In fact, there's something I should probably share as well, if we're being fully honest here."

You wait for him to continue, your tail sloshing the water in thought where your caudal fin is still submerged.

"I'm still technically married. Separated, now."

"Do you still love her?"

Clearly that's not the question he expected either, apparently, as he's the one that needs to adjust his thinking this time, clearing his throat.

"That's complicated. I suppose I'll always love her as family, we've known each other since we were children. It was an arranged marriage set up by our parents… and as bad as it sounds, I never really loved her in a way a husband is supposed to."

"Huh. Why stay married then? Is this an Orc thing?"

"Clever as ever. In my culture, she's the one that would need to initiate the coupling - that counts for the uncoupling, as well. And… she hasn't. Believe me, I've sent many letters; it's been years and still nothing. I've stopped wasting the postage."

"Mmm… Then I don't care." You say bluntly enough that it causes Varuj to laugh in surprise.

"That's quite the relief to hear."

"Same. I think we're in the same boat."

"Well then, if that's settled-" Varuj turns and faces you, one hand framing the towel where it hangs perilously from his hip, the fabric clearly already marginally tented. He nods towards his bed. "Care to join me? We can do the same thing as before.”

You don't give him time to move from where he's standing. You don't even shift your tail into a set of legs, instead gliding your lower half across the polished tile floor, easily propelled by your arm strength.

"No- I want to do it this time." You say firmly, gazing up his hirsute form from your newly claimed spot at his feet. "Return the favor?"

"How could I reject such an offer? Varuj chuckles and undoes where the towel is fastened, holding it open in either hand at his sides.

You spend a moment just taking the new sight in. You've never seen what someone with two legs has going on down there before.

His cock is girthy and gnarled with bumps and veins; framed by dense, coarse hair just below two minute golden studs at the base - every detail a stark difference from what you would expect from merfolk, where everything in the design is geared towards smooth and sleek.

It's just so different from your own. The feel of it- the tip of his has a bulb and… what the hell are those? One particularly obvious difference is the heavy, wrinkled sac hanging behind his phallus.

…Sperm sacs? Why are they on the outside? You almost verbalize, but manage to keep the thought to yourself to avoid sounding foolish. Instead, you take one in your hand and rub, causing him to make a grunt somewhere between surprise and approval.

"I've never done this before," You warn him as you tentatively begin to stroke up from the base of his cock with your other hand. You can feel him growing stiffer in your fingers already. "Not on a man, at least."

"Mnnh- I'm sure you're more than capable, but I can give you some pointers. You can start by putting your mouth on me…"

That small bit of encouragement is really all you need to properly get started, the timbre of his voice when he gives the direction making the groove in your flank twitch.

Carefully positioning your head so that your horn isn't in range for an accidental and ill-timed gutting, you take his bulbous cockhead into your mouth. You're immediately met with a gruff noise of pleasure.

You may not have done this before, but you've been on the receiving end enough times to know what your body likes - and that should be simple enough to recreate.

You start off slowly, and tentatively; more trying to acclimate and find your footing than with any imminent goal. You take the time to explore all of him with your lips and tongue as you suck, acclimating to the feel of the foreign texture of his non-amphibious skin.

“Just relax and take your time- Nnh- You can use your hands, too.”

Your hand holds him by the shaft, your fingers fiddling with the small studs and intermittently squeezing the novel new lumps of flesh in your other hand, forcing guttural, impolite noises you’ve never heard him make out of his throat.

Are you doing this right? You need to do this right…

"That's good," Varuj huffs appreciatively, as if picking up on your concern. "You're doing great."

You didn't think you'd actually like this. At least not as much as it seems you're liking it, if your body's reaction is any indication. But his taste, the gruff noises and huffs of heated breath coming from deep in his chest, the feel of each and every knob and curve pressing against the soft flesh of your inner cheeks and tongue- you can’t help but find it all irresistible.

Most of all though, it's his obvious reaction to your effort that's doing it for you.

The sight of him looking down in approval at what you’re doing fills you with a sense of lewd satisfaction you haven’t quite felt like this before. You take pride in always doing a good job at anything you do, and that also applies to sex- but this is a different intoxicant entirely.

It makes you want to chase more of this feeling- You don’t want to stop until he’s completely gratified, sucked dry and undone, because of you.

“Spirits, you’re so hot.” He huffs.

In more ways than one; there’s no relief, with both of your hands occupied. Even the tile floor beneath you has been warmed by your tail, so you can’t even press your hot, oversensitive slit against it to mitigate the ache.

You hastily take him farther into your mouth, as deeply as you can without gagging. Both of your hands move to grasp the back of his fuzzy thighs for leverage as you pump your head on him.

“Nngh-” The towel drops to the floor behind him; One of Varuj’s hands moving to grip the edge of the sink, the other gently gripping your head as it moves. His thick fingers flex against your scalp.

Looking up to gauge his reaction, you’re pleasantly vindicated, seeing the captivated, glazed look on his face, and his mouth ajar in silent appreciation. His guidance has melted into much less coherent grunts and sighs as you work him with stronger vigor.

Putting your all into it brings him to the edge much faster than you expected.

“Close-” Varuj manages to annunciate through grunts as he leans his weight on the sink.

But you’re stubbornly determined to swallow it, regardless of your inexperience. That’s what you should be doing here, right?

“Unngh-”

Despite the warning, it still catches you by surprise. You gulp down as much as you can, but your awkward attempts aren’t enough. The fluid spills past your lips, dribbling onto your chest.

You pull back and cough, finally unable to hold back from gagging, gasping for breath and your gills pulsing wildly between your rib bones in an attempt to take in oxygen, but failing to function out of the water.

Stunned, you gaze at the aftermath, using your teeth to favor the hot swell of your bottom lip from all the use.

You could’ve done that last bit better… You resolve to not make the same mistake next time.

…Next time?

The discarded, slightly damp towel is within reach, so you scoop it up. Varuj’s eyes stay fixated on you as you clean yourself up, and you can’t seem to pull your own away from his, either.

"I have to admit," He says through a ragged breath and pushes his hair back, still coming down. "You certainly didn't need any pointers, haha- Might’ve been the best head I’ve ever had."

"Glad you're satisfied." You say and leave the towel on the floor when you shift your tail into legs. You rise from your knees, now on more or less eye level with him. "Was thinking about what I would want done for me. It was easy after that."

"I wouldn't mind doing that for you." He quips and grazes your flushed pink abdomen with his hand as he passes towards the bed. “But you might need to give me some direction, now...”

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #mlm #monster x reader #monster x monster #male monster #orc #orc x reader #male reader #merman reader #gay exophilia #mlm exophilia #oc: varuj #oc: noa #series: no vacancy #nine of words

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crystallizedday · 15 hours

Text

So I’ve been hyperfixating on both Demongo & Fusionfall as of late, & I wanted to put that energy to good use somehow.

But since I currently do not have the energy to draw anything as of late, I decided to do something

A little different.

Since Demongo is only ever canonically shown as an enemy/obstacle in Samurai Jack, Fusionfall had to make a few creative decisions to better flesh out his character so he could interact with players in an organic way.

This means that Fusionfall added QUITE a lot to his character, something that I have been keeping track of for quite some time now. While it is very unlikely that any additions to Demongo’s character line up with Genndy’s vision for the character…

I mean

Genndy doesn’t do shit with the character anyway. Y’all remember what happened in season 5?

Heartbreaking shit for any Demongo fans out there…

To show some appreciation for my boy

& also to talk about what exactly Fusionfall added to his character

I want to cover every single significant detail regarding Demongo’s character.

I will split this up into 3 sections: his NPC voice lines, his Nano voice lines, & his text box dialogue.

Let’s start with his

NPC VOICE LINES

Because not only are the lines coming from the original Demongo, but they’re voiced by his og voice actor as well, so if any of these sections were to be considered the most “canon” depiction of him, it’s this one.

I have actually found & recorded all 15 different voice lines from him & packaged em all into a zip file… but I’m stupid & I don’t know how to insert that shit into Tumblr, or if that’s even a good idea considering zip files tend to be sus as fuck.

So uh

For now

Y’all just gotta take my word.

After thoroughly reviewing all the voice lines, there is ONE key addition to his character here that stands out right off the back.

This version of Demongo is the SASSIEST he’s ever been.

He literally will either greet you by sarcastically asking if you’re looking for a mission to do like an absolute smartass, or he’ll just talk down to you & refer to you as “another human child”.

Hell, referring to you as a child is something he commonly does in these lines.

Most of the time, he will speak to you in a way that emphasizes his own importance, especially when he talks to you via the nanocomm.

He definitely displays that classic huge ego his original character had, but he sometimes has a bit of a cheeky tone about it, like the sorta vibes you’d get from a rich & spoiled kid who thinks they’re the greatest thing to be put on this planet.

One of my favorite examples of this is when you accept a mission from him, & he’ll sometimes tell you “Do you think YOU can save the world?”

However, as much as he downplays your abilities, he also will sometimes find interest in your endeavors & even be impressed when you complete a mission.

One of his victory lines also has him actually openly celebrating your accomplishment, which is a cute detail that’ll come back later when we talk about his Nano lines.

While this isn’t exactly something that says a lot about his personality, I also wanted to point out how one of his victory lines has him remarking “Your soul BURNS with a warriors fire!” This remark actually attempts to connect Demongo’s fire theme in his design to his whole soul-collecting shtick, suggesting that to HIM, stronger & more determined souls will have a fiery aura to them… which is unsurprising considering that ONE Japanese legend about blue fire & souls &- I’m getting ahead of myself WKWWKSMSODMOM

No matter what Demongo says to the player, he always speaks in a manner where his tone of voice drastically shifts from word to word.

You know that whole bit where the fandom likes to call this guy a theater kid?

Well

With how he says shit in such a dramatic, expressive, & ever-changing tone…

He kinda IS.

He SOUNDS like someone up on a stage, putting their heart into EVERY SINGLE line they say.

It’s honestly kinda adorable.

One last thing I found significant about his lines his how he fully admits that he often schemes in his downtime. However, while this may be interpreted as him scheming against the good guys, I don’t think this is the case, especially since we’ve never had a mission from him that either relates to Aku or gives him something powerful that HE could use against the heroes. I will talk more about this once we get to the text box section.

But before we do that, we need to move onto the

NANO VOICE LINES

There are… a LOT of voice lines for his nano counterpart.

Thankfully, all of these lines are publicly available here!

So y’all can have a listen to them whenever you please!

I am unsure just HOW much of the original Demongo carries over in his Nano counterpart’s personality, so what I’ve done is cross-reference Nano Demongo’s lines with Nano Aku’s lines. After all, Aku is a rather interesting character since he’s both a terrifying threat while also being a lil bit of a fucking dork in the original show, & while HE isn’t present in Fusionfall, his nano IS.

So anything goofy Nano Demongo displays that Nano Aku doesn’t suggests that these lil quirks ARE things that originate from the original Demongo (the Fusionfall version, of course).

Imma list each of my individual findings numerically so they’re a bit more organized & easier to read.

Ahem…

1) Demongo enjoys dancing

Considering even Aku enjoys boogying a bit (at least in season 5), it isn't all that surprising that this trait carries over to Demongo.

However, comparing Nano Demongo's lines with Nano Aku's, Aku acts more so like he is forcing YOU to dance, & sounds like he does not enjoy having to dance himself.

This makes sense considering the very specific circumstances season 5 Aku was in, so I’m certain Aku wouldn’t typically be in the mood for that sort of nonsense.

On the other hand, Nano Demongo LOVES to dance. He ADORES it, & even though one of his lines is rather demanding, it isn't in a "you will dance or I will disintegrate you" kind of way like how Nano Aku’s lines would be like. Nano Demongo wants you to dance WITH him, not FOR him.

His lil “Go go DemONGO!!” as one of his lines is so fucking cute that it actually makes me a lil mad KWMWKWMWKDMEODMON

HE IS SO PROUD OF HIS DANCE MOVES, I CAN’T

FUCK

… ahem

Him loving to dance actually lines up pretty well with the theater kid energy he already has, so this trait actually fits for him.

I think he’d be pretty damn good at ballet KAMWKWMWKSMSODMDOM

2) Demongo can experience love

Look

I know this sounds fanfictiony

But

When one of his lines is basically just “Demons need love too!” & like ACTUALLY DOING THE FUCKIN DREAMY SIGH THING in another line

Come on

How are you gonna disprove that?

& this isn’t something exclusive to the nano counterparts.

Nano Aku will just say shit like "love is for losers" & pushes the love narrative onto someone else, claiming THEY are infatuated with HIM.

So while Aku doesn’t give two shits about the subject (aromantic icon /j /j /j), Demongo's out here acting absolutely SMITTEN, one of his lines being him promising not to eat a person's soul purely out of infatuation.

Damn

Like Aku's canonically tried impressing literal children before so they adore & look up to him before, but Demongo really do be shaping up to be the bigger dork of the two KWMWKWMWOSMWO

It’s probably HARD to imagine even Fusionfall Demongo having the capacity to love, but since even Nano Aku is disinterested in that sort of shit, it’s hard to just excuse it as a nano-exclusive thing.

Plus

I think it’s cute. KAKWWKISDMOSXKOMK

Makes me wonder if FF Demongo has exes, cause that would be kinda funny to explore KAWNWODMWOMDOWDM

3) Demongo cries. Hard

Not only does Nano Demongo have TWO SEPARATE lines where he's just bawling his fuckin eyes out, like straight up whimpering & wailing, but Aku's lines in comparison are just "this is so sad" with the most fake fuckin crying I have ever heard KWNWKWMWKSNWOXKONWC

& when I say “fake crying”

I mean like

“Oh booo hoooo, lemme play a sad song for you on the world’s smallest violin…” kind of fake crying. There’s like NO effort behind it KWMWKWMWODKEON

Aku out here never expresses sadness to such a dramatic degree (& only ever gets like… emotionally depressed in season 5 where he just doesn’t feel like doing anything)

Meanwhile Demongo is bawling like SpongeBob during the dark ages of the show KWMWKWMWOSMSODMON

Im almost convinced FF Demongo has the ability to cry on command, just so other people will pity him so much that they’ll do shit for him.

It’s a good substitute for threatening them when uh

He can’t exactly live up to his threats

Since his powers got yoinked…

So what better way to get other people to do what you say than to make them feel like a piece of shit for NOT helping you?? OWMWKWMWODMWODM

4) Demongo can get overwhelmingly terrified

Yeah

Duh

He’s helpless without his powers

So it makes sense that without them, he’d feel like anything could kill him at any minute.

But he straight up sounds like a cornered mouse in one of his lines. It sounds like he’s balled up in a corner, panicked for his well-being.

It’s actually kinda sad…

For all his talk of being the best there is, I can imagine that if he finds himself powerless, he just goes into panic-mode if he feels like he’s in danger.

& the fact that this is one of the more canon-accurate additions to his character breaks me wee lil heart…

… oh also

Nano Aku’s scared lines are like

Let’s just say they DON’T sound like he’s scared…

So that again isn’t a nano-exclusive part of Nano Demongo’s personality.

But this isn’t really a big claim, so :p KWMWKSMWODKS

5) Demongo laughs like a god damn dork when he genuinely finds something funny

Like we know he's got that gremlin laugh in the show & it's wacky as fuck, but according to his audio files, when bro is fuckin AMUSED, he displays some of the DORKIEST laughs l've ever heard out of a cartoon demon.

I’m not being biased.

Listen to the files yourself.

He like

Does the nerdiest lil “HEH!!” in one of them. It’s so fuckin GOOFY WOEMDODMDOSKDODK

Meanwhile, Nano Aku sounds like what you'd expect Aku to sound like when laughing.

Just evil laughs all around.

Not Demongo though, no no NO.

Bro laughs like how me or my own buds laugh.

Like a fucking nerd.

This is another cute addition to his character.

I dunno. I just like the idea of Demongo being such a sassy dork, but often puts up a tough & menacing front so people will take him seriously.

It’s that kind of characterization that inspired me to make the Duo of Doom AU, actually.

Speaking of the funni fella being a fuckin dork

6) Demongo is adorably ECSTATIC when victorious

Nano Aku's out here with his classic bellowing evil laugh & shit

It’s what you’d expect from Aku

& then there's Demongo

Who sounds like a god damn excited cheerleader when you & him win a fight (it’s in the “Battle Outcome” folder, if you’re following along with the audio files).

& then you have bro's cute lil "let us REJOICE!!"

Like that’s the kind of shit you’d hear an optimistic or comic relief character say at the end of an episode or animated movie where they’re like “Let’s PARTY!!” or something.

You don’t get that shit from Nano Aku, & especially his og counterpart.

I like to think that if FF Demongo did end up pulling off something cool or successfully accomplished something, he’d get so fuckin excited over it, maybe even doing a short celebratory dance cause he just feels like he NEEDS to with how excited he is KWMWKWMKWMWOSKOM

& then promptly panic when he realizes he’s not the only one in the area & fears that someone just saw him dancing like a fuckin dork OWMWKWMWOEKEODMSOXKSOCKOM

There’s so much you can do with his character in FusionFall that it pisses me off how no one in the FF fandom’s taken advantage of this shit…

Y’all keep writing him as this super serious character, & I’m just sitting here like

Naw, man

You don’t know him like I do /j /j /j KQMQKWMWKWMWKWMWOEMEOEM

Okay.

Now we have ONE more section to cover before y’all can understand this character just as much as I do.

We now need to look at his

TEXT BOX DIALOGUE

You can find all his dialogue on various wiki pages covering the missions he gives & missions that he just so happens to be a part of for one reason or another.

I recommend using the breezewiki Fusionfall pages since they actually showcase Demongo’s lil “emails” he gives you as you progress through the missions he gives you.

However, if that website doesn’t work for you for whatever reason (like how it is on my end), the fandom wiki will do just fine.

I’ll also provide SOME screenshots of my findings so I actually have some photo evidence for what I’m about to claim.

Before we do that, however…

Yes

Demongo DOES often speak in third person in the written dialogue.

I dunno why, since he doesn’t talk that way in his debut episode…

So I just like to ignore that trait of his

Or just say that he started talking like that cause Aku tends to refer to himself in the third person sometimes, so maybe he got it from the big guy himself…

Speaking of Aku

Hot take:

I don’t think Demongo’s working for Aku.

I know this doesn’t say much about FF Demongo’s personality, but it’s just something that I want to address cause I feel like I’m one of the few people that believe bro isn’t snitching on everyone to Aku.

There is a mission where you need to retrieve something for Demongo before a timer runs out. If it does, Demongo says this to you.

Notice how Demongo refers to Aku here.

Isn’t it a little odd that he refers to Aku as his “lord” & not his “master”?

It COULD be an oversight

It could be that he currently sees Aku as his lord, much like a civilian to a king, rather than his master, someone he directly works under.

Additionally

Isn’t it also odd that the only time he mentions Aku to you directly is when you fail him?

Sounds like SOMEBODY remembers that time he first failed Aku & got fucking crushed…

But considering Demongo gives you a second chance to fetch the thingie for him…

Mmm

Seems kinda generous of him, don’t you think?

I like to see this as Demongo, having experienced that position before, not wanting to do the same thing to you (especially since… well, he can’t do shit to you while he’s weak like this).

He doesn’t wanna be the Aku in THAT situation…

& the only other time he mentions Aku is this line here, when you ask him about his allegiance on behalf of Jack.

Yes. It IS shady that he doesn’t outright say that he’s working for Aku.

But like

If Aku is watching

Then why the fuck would he say that he ISN’T working for him?

He doesn’t wanna be offed for potential treason after all.

& if he was REALLY working for Aku, then he wouldn’t be in the position he’s in right now.

He’s powerless. He has to rely on others at the campsite to ensure his safety.

If he was working for Aku, then bro would be FINE. He wouldn’t be HERE, at the campsite.

If Aku is watching, then he doesn’t need a spy to keep an eye on Jack & the others for him.

THAT’s why I believe Demongo isn’t just fooling everyone to get info for Aku.

Hell, a friend of mine suggests that Demongo may not even KNOW if Aku still wants the fiery lil guy working for him, like he just pissed off his boss but never got that notice that he got fired. Maybe Demongo genuinely doesn’t even know.

Also, all of his missions are either about the master weapon or about himself & ensuring his reputation isn’t tarnished by his weakened state.

He doesn’t ask for anything suspicious.

Hell, when you DO get all the master weapons, he doesn’t get all giddy about having such powerful items at his disposal. No.

Because he too expects the player to use them to help win the fight against Fuse. He KNOWS their chances of winning are greatly enhanced by having the weapons in more capable & experienced hands…

& then Jack asks you to destroy them, but that’s a whole other story KWNWKWMWOSMWO

Demongo just never acts like he’s doing anything FOR Aku, & is just focusing on himself, probably because that’s the only thing he CAN focus on without his old master being there as a safety net.

Overall. I find this interpretation to be a FASCINATING way to better humanize his character a bit…

Speaking of humanizing him

The entire “Infernal Racket” set of missions talk about how hard it is for Demongo to concentrate when a bunch of floating rock head guys across the campsite keep smashing into each other like football players, & he remarks how he’s losing sleep over the noise.

Meaning he actually sleeps.

& considering he resides at a campsite

I can only imagine that one of those tents is his.

I just find that fact cute KWMWKWMWODMW

This also makes me think that Demongo has trouble concentrating if the environment isn’t quiet enough.

As someone with ADHD…

I can relate KWNWKWMWODMWODMOEFK

It is ALSO this line of missions that reveals something adorable about him

He has a favorite color.

& he doesn’t DEMAND blue ear muffs either.

He says it like he just asked you to get him a slushie, & he’s just like “I mean, I would LIKE a blue raspberry, but if they’re out, it’s fine. It’s whatever. I mean, I’s be a lil bummed out about it, but it’s no big deal, I guess.”

… which is also something I can relate to KWNWKWMWOWMWODKK

It’s like

One of the few times he acts so casual with you as the player.

It makes me think that he honestly WOULD act a lil more casually if he were to drop the whole “I’m super powerful” front & actually

Ya know

BE emotionally vulnerable for once.

& I think that’s a really sweet idea…

… Ah!!

I almost forgot!

Remember that “scheming” line from his NPC’s dialogue?

THIS is what I believe he is referring to when he says that.

He seems to actually STUDY the master weapons you collect.

Even Jack admits that he had immense knowledge regarding this kind of magical weaponry, which appears to be quite useful.

Additionally, Demongo is also the one to initiate one of the final & direct attacks in Fuse’s territory, having planned to use Eduardo’s imaginary energy against Fuse’s forces.

I’m almost certain HE planned out this attack.

Him being a good strategizer (if that’s even a legit word) honestly fits with his whole “making souls fight for him” shtick.

Sure, he probably isn’t a genius (ESPECIALLY in comparison to Dexter or Mojo), but he KNOWS how to plan attacks, & thus probably spends a lot of his time doing THAT as well.

That’s probably what he means by “scheming”.

It’s honestly a shock that he doesn’t boast about this clear skill of his like he does with his “powers”.

JACK is the one to point out how knowledgeable he is about magic & strategy.

To me, it kinda feels like Demongo takes his knowledge on these subjects GENUINELY seriously. Maybe it’s cause these are things that take him time to flesh out & perfect & shit, & he’s just so focused on learning & executing what he can that he doesn’t even think of it being necessary to brag about this shit.

I dunno. I just found that lil detail interesting KWMWKSMWOSSMOD

… speaking of having to interpret shit

This shit

Confused me

For the longest time

Until I eventually realized something:

They help him keep up a semi-menacing appearance.

I can imagine he uses them as discount fog machines, helping to make the atmosphere around him more mysterious & intimidating…

Which is SO fuckin dorky & also plays into his whole “theater kid” personality…

… which can ALSO be seen HERE.

Guys

For the love of god

All we need now is confirmation that bro sings in his free time KWWMOWMWOSMSEODMEKN

Actually

Since we’re on the topic of Demongo’s goofy attributes

There is ONE more thing I wanted to share before I wrap up this post.

The world is fucking ENDING in this universe

& Demongo is FAR TOO PETTY & butt-hurt to even talk to Jack directly.

It is HILARIOUS KAMWKWSMWOSM

He’s such a brat sometimes, but that’s what makes him such a fun character in my eyes KWMWOWMWOSM

AAAAAANYWAY

That’s all I have for now.

If there’s anything I showcased here that you have a different interpretation for, POP OFF!!

I LOVE hearing people’s different takes on this kind of stuff!!

I love seeing how creative people can get OAMWKWMWKWMWOWMWOEOM

Uhhh anyway

I hope this post has opened some of your eyes about how much potential Demongo has as a character, inside & even outside of Fusionfall.

…

& ALSO makes you wish that Genndy treated him with just as much love & respect as the Fusionfall team did KWMWKWMWKDMEOFM

#Demongo #Fusionfall #fusion fall #Cartoon Network #samurai Jack #sj #day’s late night rambles #it’s technically night right???#7pm counts as night right?????#bah #I’m keeping the tag anyway KAMWKWMWOS #Hopefully I’ll find a reliable place to put that zip file for his NPC’s audio lines #cause I LOVE how sassy he sounds #& I want y’all to have that resource too KWMWKWMWOSMSODK

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archivist-the-knight · 20 days

Text

oh my god... spoilers under the cut but i need to talk about here for sweethearts

this is the first arcadekitt game i've played [not the first ive seen!! i saw my neighbor enid in a playthrough format and decided to check out the author's other work.] and??? best one i could've chosen i loved the experience.

first off even without the plot twist the game is really good. its so sweet and genuine, all of the characters are super nice and the dialogue feels natural. each character is likeable, and you have equal reasons to like and dislike each of them. their flaws are balanced out as equally as their pros. also?? the pride flags were really cleverly incorporated into the designs. especially acanthibar... the others are cool i love em but acanthibar... he takes the cake. the aro sleeves... the trans sash... he's giving it his all dude highest respect for my frog guy. also, i do like how the pride flags kinda matched with each of the characters personalities if it made sense? there's more to be said about that but biggest example i can draw from is vatilis and crowven... vatilis, try as they might, wears their heart on their sleeve and has a hard time keeping their emotions down, so theirs is a sweater that compliments the rest of the outfit, but you can still see it. crowven is casual about it, if you bring it up he'll confirm it with pride and isn't as scared of hiding his emotions. his main alt sprite is him itching hsi nose with the pride bracelet hand...

also mary... the fact that until we see her most of what we've heard about her is the fact that she's "scary" and weird from netina, and that she doesn't like being called that from crowven. and when we actually meet her... she's so kind, out of everyone in the game she has the most decorated, personality-filled room, and is generally just a big sweetheart. also points. she and reggie are autism4autism ace4ace they're literally adorable together... who gave them the riiight oh my goddd /pos

anyway!!! :-3 i really like games that subvert your expectations both narratively and aesthetically. which sucks, because i don't see it done often. but??? oh my god here for sweethearts filled that niche perfectly... the genuine suprise i felt hearing them mention "hunger" until i realized... the protagonist never mentioned anything beyond "i'd feel nice" to why they wanted that connection... and then i was pleasantly surprised by the twist that the protag was here to feed off of the heartbreak ooooh my god... genuinely everything i had building up for the dance stopped in the best way possible.

like the signs were pointing towards natina being the secret killer, but... reginald being the supposed killer the ghost saw was actually the first witness of the crime, and twyla actually being the one to commit the murder? and how, once you realize this, it's already too late?

and twyla being onto us the whole time... asking us if we eat in our room at all, having gunther distract us when she literally said she just needed him out of the way for a little bit to get his keys, which she could have easily done without us. once you get that information, so many events prior make so much sense! hell, some of the incorrect dialogue makes sense! of course we'd accidentally slip up, we're hungry and desperate!! its just .... ooo eated. pun intented.

anyway the only real con i had about this game was that there wasn't a seperation between how you presented and what pronouns people used for you. but even then i'm fine with that!! theres only like two moments that i encountered it, its fairly casual and ultimately didn't take away from the experience. + i know it would've been hard to code... the game already has so much going for it in that department so i get it!! and plus... they were all conveniently terms i'm okay with being used for me so there's that hehe [oh they also all still use they/them for you no matter what. its just like a few instances of them calling you pretty so again; its okay and in fact im fine with it being kept that way tbh]

regardless!! i had so much fun with this game, please play it on itch.io its free and really entertaining. it takes a while to complete, it took me an entire afternoon, so keep that in mind. but i personally really liked it!!

bonus... the player character looks exactly like me/one of my sonas. HELP...

#eden mrraps #here for sweethearts #arcadekitten games #ask to tag #spoilers

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himebushou · 1 year

Text

For Day 1 of #KazukiWeek2023! Content warning: Mention of dead animals.

Acceptance

“You’re lookin’ at that bird like ya wanna eat it!”

“Am not,” Kazuki says automatically. He rips his gaze from the sparrow – fixes Kiyoshi with the filthiest scowl he can summon. Kiyoshi grimaces and sticks out his tongue. Then, he smirks. He cups one hand around his mouth and hollers,

“HEY! Kurusu’s dreaming kitty cats again!”

Clamorous laughter. Over the last few weeks, the others have become obsessed with Kiyoshi’s feeble joke: Kazuki’s so dumb he thinks he can turn into a cat and gobble up a bird. Poor ickle Kazuki’s sooo hungry. Poor itsy bitsy Kazuki wants a tail and whiskers and to chase birds around and say, “Miaow miaow miaow!” all day long!

More than anything, it’s the stupidity that’s irritating. Of course he doesn’t want to be a cat. What good are they? Stupid strays, slinking from home to home, never belonging anywhere, hissing and spitting like oil in a frying pan. Kazuki is far more interested in growing wings (like crow or a dove or a crane) and flying far, far away – until these memories fade into fragile specks and the sun dissolves, a red pin-prick on the horizon.

Not everyone remembers to be horrible all the time.

Some of the girls like him, a bit. They find his golden hair fairy-like. And some of the little ones appreciate that Kazuki doesn’t mind reading out loud, occasionally, if he can find a book that still has most of its pages. And some of the boys sort of admire how far Kazuki can kick the deflated soccer ball.

There’s also Kiyoshi.

Kiyoshi’s the oldest because he’s been stuck here the longest. That’s it. He got here a whole day before Kazuki and that virtue, apparently, is enough to make him Kazuki’s senior. Never mind that there are at least four kids at the House that are a few grades above them both – Kiyoshi’s parents obviously loved him the least and that means that he deserves the most, even though he isn’t the smartest or fastest or strongest.

It’s pathetic.

They’re playing hide-and-seek (Rika’s idea) and they’re playing on the streets (Aoi’s idea) and Kazuki and Kiyoshi are on the same team (an unlucky draw – so, fate’s idea).

Kiyoshi wants to lead, but Kazuki digs his nails into Kiyoshi’s wrist and pulls him down an alleyway. Kiyoshi whimpers at the sudden gloom and Kazuki snaps, “Don’t wet yourself!”

Kiyoshi swats at Kazuki – snarls in denial – and is swept into silence when Kazuki says:

“Don’t bother. I saw ’em hanging out your sheets this morning.”

He can imagine Kiyoshi’s face; it’ll be scarlet, a glowing heat-lamp warming the late autumn afternoon. Kazuki smiles as they round a corner. He strides forward and something moulds itself into the sole of his shoe; Kazuki’s stomach convulses and, instinctively, he throws out an arm. Kiyoshi snarls again when he’s impaled by Kazuki’s elbow – Kazuki growls, “Shut up!” and forces Kiyoshi to retreat.

Finally, Kazuki can see what he stepped on.

“Oh, what the hell,” Kiyoshi breathes. “Ya reckon it’s still alive?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Kazuki returns. “Half the bird’s missin’. This thing’s dead, Kiyoshi. Dead dead.”

“Oh. Oh!” A sniffle. Kiyoshi blows his nose on his sleeve. He clears his throat. “We gotta bury it or somethin’,” he says at last. “Since it ain’t alive no more.”

Kazuki rounds on Kiyoshi, incredulous.

“Why?”

Kiyoshi starts. His lower lip trembles. “Well. You know. Because we found it. Since no one else is here, we gotta be the ones to sort it.”

“It’s sorted,” says Kazuki. “This is nature. Some cat probably ate half of this thing – don’t really know why it left so much meat – and some other cat’ll be along to take the rest. Things live and die, Kiyoshi. You know that.”

Kiyoshi mumbles, “Shoulda known you’d side with the cats.”

“I’m not siding with anything,” Kazuki’s voice is steeped with scorn. “If you want to give it a funeral, Kiyoshi, be my guest. But don’t expect me to cry about it. It’s just some stupid bird.”

Kiyoshi nods.

Later, after the group have trooped home from their game and been scolded and sent to bed without supper, and the days have erupted in floods of ruby leaves and Kiyoshi has had enough time to tell the others, usually in whispered tones, about Kazuki’s words That Afternoon, there’s a… change. The collective know, now, that Kazuki won’t cry or be shocked by nothing. He’s the toughest. He’s ruthless.

That’s how you establish dominance.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies fic #kurusu kazuki #kazukiweek2023 #HI I AM STILL HERE #this is such a weird way to celebrate one of my favourite characters but #also!#the dialogue is heavily influenced by to kill a mockingbird #i've been listening to the audiobook in my car and PHEW

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12timetraveler · 1 year

Text

Beware the Jabberwocky

Summary:

Arthur and Hosea go on a boys trip. But when Arthur picks the wrong mushrooms, they take a trip of a different kind

CW: Mushrooms, recreational drug use

Word count: 3936

Notes:

For my dear friend @hoematthews on his birthday. Based on a late-night conversation we had with some other friends. I hope you enjoy!

AO3

~~~~~~~~

"So what are we hunting exactly?" Arthur asked, realizing he really had no idea what they were doing out here.

Hosea had asked if Arthur wanted to go hunting, and after weeks of doing job after job after job, constantly working, he was ready for something different. Any sort of change of pace.

"Moose, didn't I say?" Hosea chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Arthur.

"Oh. So we're just pretending we're going hunting," Arthur chuckled. He and Hosea had gone after moose many times over the years, but never caught one. Arthur had only even seen a moose a handful of times in his life, and never when he was looking for one.

"Nonsense," Hosea huffed. "I've been watching this area for a while. It's a little lake, remote in the mountains. All the wildlife around drink from it. Including a number of moose. We'll catch one this time, you'll see."

"Whatever you say," Arthur huffed. He wouldn't horribly mind if they just wasted time. Hosea was probably his favorite person to waste time with. He always ended up with a story to tell, and came back to camp feeling refreshed. Just getting out of camp with the man, spending a few days watching the lake for the elusive megafauna, that was just fine with him.

~~~~~~

They reached the lake just before nightfall. No time for hunting that night, but just enough time for Hosea to catch a couple fish while Arthur set up camp. Since they'd be there a couple days, Arthur used the canvas of his travel tent to make a sort of lean-to between the trees in case it rained. But he set up their bedrolls around the fire.

He knew his old friend would want to lay out under the stars, weather permitting, and enjoy the view. He'd likely tell Arthur the same stories he always did, legends and myths that made up the constellations. Arthur didn't mind. It was nice to hear Hosea talk about simple things.

It reminded him of the old days when he'd wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares and go sit by the fire only for Hosea to join him and talk his ear off until the sun rose. Back when it was just the three of them, and he was nothing but a gangly little street urchin.

So much had changed, and yet he always found comfort in Hosea's voice. Most of the time nowadays Hosea was busy helping the others in the gang. He was good at talking folks through their troubles. But that meant he didn't have as much time for Arthur as he used to. Arthur didn't get many chances to just sit with him and listen to him talk anymore.

"A feast befitting kings," Hosea crowed, drawing Arthur out of his musing. He approached the makeshift camp holding a pair of sockeye, which he'd already bludgeoned and gutted.

"Nice catch," Arthur hummed, looking up at Hosea from where he sat by the fire. "Here. I can filet 'em,"

"You'll do no such thing," Hosea huffed, swinging the fish away from Arthur's reach before sitting down by the fire. "You'll lose us all the meat the way you butcher fish. I'll do it,"

"Whatever you say," Arthur sighed, but there was no malice behind his voice, only familiar affection.

Hosea was right, it was quite the feast. The fish were so savory and tender, even with the crude ways the men had of seasoning and cooking. When Arthur lay down on his bedroll he felt pleasantly full and sleepy.

Across the fire Hosea was also settling down on his bedroll, grunting and groaning dramatically as he settled in on his back, hands resting on his chest. It was quiet for a moment, just the crackle of the campfire and the sounds of night.

"Do you see those three stars lined up," Hosea started, pointing up at the sky. Arthur couldn't help but smile as his earlier prediction had been right. "That's Orion's belt,"

"Is it?" Arthur hummed tiredly. He knew all the constellations Hosea knew. He'd been shown them time and time again. He didn't even have to look for it, he knew right where it would be.

"Yep," Hosea chirped. "Goes right across the constellation. You can see Orion himself, just around it,"

"So I can," Arthur murmured, his eyes closing.

"And right there, do you see the big dipper? It's crystal clear tonight," Hosea murmured.

"Oh yeah," Arthur mumbled.

"You know, escaped slaves used to call it The Drinking Gourd. They used it to guide them north to freedom,"

"Well I'll... Be," Arthur sighed, barely even awake.

"The big dipper is also part of Ursa Major, the great bear..."

Hosea kept talking long after Arthur was snoring. He knew how Arthur liked to hear him ramble.

~~~~~~~

The next morning the hunt began. After a breakfast of bread and some pheasant eggs, they set out from camp along the lakeshore.

The lake was truly stunning. The surface was smooth and sparkling in the morning sun, disturbed only by ripples of fish catching a morning meal of mosquitoes. The image of the trees and mountains reflected off the surface of the lake like a giant mirror.

It didn't take Hosea long to find some large moose tracks. Unfortunately they headed directly into the water, so they couldn't be followed more than a couple yards. There was no sign of the moose on the other side of the lake.

Hosea led Arthur up a slope overlooking the water, and the two sat there for a while watching the wildlife visit the lake, hoping their large friend would stop by. Plenty of other animals came to the lake. Elk and deer, foxes and rabbits, even a pack of wolves drank across the way, but after hours of sitting and watching no moose came to drink.

Some time after noon Hosea sent Arthur down to the lakeshore with some potent herbivore bait, hoping to lure the moose down. It certainly drew in a number of ungulates, but never a moose.

Finally around mid afternoon they decided to circle the lake and look for tracks that might lead them to their quarry. But the only tracks they found were old, or too small for a moose.

Along the way Arthur gathered some plants on the shore. Mint and burdock root and some mushrooms that looked like parasol mushrooms. Arthur was always a little hesitant with mushrooms because he really didn't know what the dangerous ones looked like. But these looked enough like parasols that he was confident in picking them.

By the time they were almost back to their temporary camp, the sun was starting to dip low in the sky. Arthur had a bag full of plants and mushrooms, but no moose.

"Well, seems our friends have eluded us today," Arthur huffed, stretching his shoulders.

"For now," Hosea sighed. "I'll see if I can catch us a rabbit to eat,"

"Alright. I'll get the fire going again," Arthur said, clapping Hosea on the shoulder. He could tell the old man was a little disappointed, but not completely disheartened. Mostly he was just tired after circling the lake. Arthur knew letting him hunt dinner would boost his spirits some.

Arthur had the fire going strong by the time Hosea returned to camp with a rabbit, already skinned and gutted.

"Good catch," Arthur hummed. It had been a big rabbit, he could tell.

"Not bad," Hosea shrugged, passing the rabbit carcass to Arthur. "Any of those plants you picked today good with rabbit?"

"Mmm maybe," Arthur hummed, opening up his satchel. He looked through the bundles of herbs in his bag. "Could stuff the rabbit with some mushrooms and wild carrot to cook. And a couple spices," Arthur pulled out the plants.

"A rare feast," Hosea chuckled, sitting down and pulling out his knife. Arthur handed him the carrots and Hosea chopped them roughly with his knife while Arthur halved the mushrooms and stuffed them and the carrots into the rabbit before sticking it over the fire to roast. As rustic and thrown together as it was, it was fancier than the usual plate of stew.

Soon a nice aroma filled the air as the rabbit meat cooked at the carrots and mushrooms began roasting in what little fat the rabbit had.

Both Hosea and Arthur were feeling a little funny, but both assumed it was likely just from being out in the sun. Neither had made the connection between the funny feeling and when they started handling and cooking the mushrooms.

The fire cooked the rabbit quickly, and soon enough their supper was ready. Arthur carved the rabbit and dished some out onto Hosea's mess-kit plate before dishing some out onto his own.

After a long day of hunting, the men were ravenous, neither worrying much about talking or table manners. Before long they'd scarfed down the rabbit along with the mushrooms and carrots, and licked those plates clean.

"What kind of mushrooms were those, Arthur?" Hosea asked as he licked up the last crumb.

"Just parasol mushrooms," Arthur shrugged.

"Really? Didn't taste much like parasol mushrooms," Hosea hummed. "Must have been something to do with cooking them inside the rabbit,"

Hosea set his plate aside before flopping down on his bedroll with a contented sigh. Arthur followed suit, rolling into his back to look at the stars.

Arthur was starting to feel really funny, almost like he was drunk. But not quite the same. Not any kind of drunkenness he'd ever felt before. He felt floaty and spinny, like he was drifting through a dream, but he was sure he was awake.

The stars above him began to twinkle brighter, and the colors seemed to shift in a beautiful rainbow of colors. The stars rippled like scales on a fish across the sky. It was all Arthur could do to stare open mouthed at the light show above him.

"H-hosea?" Arthur mumbled dumbly. Hosea hummed in response. "The stars look different to you?"

Hosea had been drifting off to sleep, feeling thoroughly relaxed after dinner. He opened his eyes and frowned upat the sky. When had the sun risen? And why was the sky such a strange purple color? But... No, there were stars, and the moon out. But the world was much brighter than it had been a moment before.

"Now that you mention it..." Hosea grumbled, rolling into his side. The world seemed to zoom in and out as he did, before settling into something akin to focus. "W...woah. Arthur you... You've grown!"

Indeed the man laying across the firepit seemed to have grown at least three feet in length.

"I have?" Arthur grumbled, holding up his hands, looking for any sign of growth. Arthur pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking over at Hosea. His eyes widened comically as he took in the sigh of his friend.

"Y... You're a moose!" Arthur gasped.

Indeed before him, instead of his oldest friend, a man who was more father to him than his own blood, an anthropomorphic moose sat on Hosea's bedroll. He had sprouted ears and magnificent antlers. His nose had grown long and looked remarkably squishable. His body had sprouted fur and though he moved like a man, pushing himself to his hind legs and using his front legs as hands, he now had hooves.

"Am I?" Hosea asked, looking down at his hands. And as if by magic, Arthur was right. No longer did he have fingers and hands. Instead he saw two large cloven hooves. He looked back at Arthur, who only seemed to be growing bigger, but was somehow still looking up at him with comically wide eyes.

"What... Are we dreaming?" Arthur mumbled.

"I don't think so..." Hosea hummed, still staring at his hands. "But..." He couldn't help but giggle. "But I'm not sure what else could be happening,"

"Maybe a bear got us," Arthur huffed, starting to panic a little. "Maybe we got mauled to death. Is this heaven?"

"I doubt it," Hosea chuckled, walking over to his giant friend. He practically had to break his neck to look up at Arthur as the man stood up. Hosea settled one cloven hoof on Arthur's giant arm. "Don't worry so much, huh. What's that thing Javier says sometimes? Que sera? Just relax,"

Hosea had a sneaking suspicion of what was happening. He'd tried his fair share of substances. They were very popular among theater troops. He'd never had an experience quite like this, but he was sure it was something in that realm. But telling Arthur would only make him anxious, and he knew during experiences like this, anxiety and fear were not your friends.

The sound of a flock of ducks coming to land on the shore near the lake caught both of their attention. Moose and giant both turned to look at the water.

Hosea gasped as he saw the lake before them, sparkling under the purple sky. The water was a rippling rainbow of colors. Shades and hues Hosea had never seen before. Colors no human had ever witnessed, he was sure.

Arthur was focused on the ducks along the shore, frowning as they laughed at him. They teased him for being so strange, for his hair cut and the scruff of his beard. They mocked the way he could only walk, and couldn't fly like him. None of their words really upset him, or cut him deep. But had they been some barfly he'd likely have smashed their faces in. But fighting ducks just seemed unfair. They were too small. Especially with his new size.

"Come on Arthur, let's get a close look!" Hosea cheered, inexplicably grabbing Arthur's arm with his large hoof and dragging Arthur behind him toward the lake.

"At the ducks?" Arthur grumbled. He wasn't sure he wanted to get even closer to the mean old ducks.

"No at the lake! Look at it!" Hosea gasped, coming to a stop right at the shore.

Arthur blinked, not quite sure what Hosea saw in the water that had him so excited. But as he studied the waves he began to see it. Or at least he saw what he assumed Hosea was also seeing.

To Arthur the water seemed to be made of flower petals. Reds and yellows and whites and oranges all rippled in waves across the water, lapping at the shore in front of him. Arthur bent down and scooped some of the petals up in his hands. They seemed to trickle out between his fingers like water, something between a liquid and a solid.

"Remarkable," Arthur murmured, watching the petals ebb and flow before him.

"Let's go swimming,"

Arthur looked over to see moose Hosea shedding his clothes until he was just down to his drawers.

Hosea tossed his clothes on the shore, ready to leap into the lake of colors before him. He whooped as his feet splashed into the rainbow water. It was crisp, like mountain lake water should be, but something about the cold water seemed to warm him, like the rainbow of colors was filling him with light.

Once he was deep enough, Hosea dove into the water, letting the strands of color and light woosh over him. He was pleasantly surprised to find that even if he swirled the water, the colors never muddied. They just swirled together before pulling back into separate streams.

Hosea surfaced, gasping for air. "Come on in, dear giant boy," he called to Arthur at the shore. "The colors are incredible,"

Arthur shucked his clothes quickly, getting down to his drawers as well. He'd always loved the feeling of flower petals against his fingers. He couldn't wait to see what they felt like as he swam through them.

The water was cold, and the moment he was up to his hips Arthur felt his balls draw up inside him. But against gritted teeth he kept moving through the water. The petals swirled around him moving aside for him but hugging to his body as well.

"Isn't it incredible?" Hosea asked, laying on his back in the water and floating around him.

"It is. I've always wanted to swim among them," Arthur mumbled, still wondering at the petals around him.

"Me too," Hosea admitted, thinking of all the rainbows he'd seen in his life.

The two men spent some time just swimming around, lost in their own hallucinations. Time meant nothing to either of them. It may have been a half an hour, it could have been a week. In fact it seemed to be both combined.

"Ahh. Just listen to the musical sounds of nature," Hosea sighed.

Arthur paused, listening for what Hosea might be hearing. Slowly the ducks, the fireflies, the crickets and frogs and bats, all the creatures around the lake began singing a familiar tune.

<I>The ring dang do

Now what is that?

It's soft and round like a pussy cat

Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two

That's what they call the ring dang do</I>

"I didn't know they knew that song," Arthur mused.

"Of course they do, Arthur," Hosea chuckled loudly, slapping Arthur's bare back. "They wrote this song,"

Hosea of course was referring to the loud symphony of quacks and ribbits and chirps that seemed to drown out all other sounds. It was growing so loud in fact he couldn't even hear Arthur humming along to Ring Dang Do.

"We should go back to camp," Arthur said after a moment. The water was cold, and he wasn't entirely certain but he thought it may have snapped his balls off. He no longer could feel them between his legs.

"What?" Hosea called, as if talking over a great cacophony of sounds.

"Camp," Arthur yelled back, grabbing Hosea's hoof-hand and tugging him back to shore.

Arthur didn't bother trying to find their clothes. He was pretty sure he saw his shirt fly off with a couple of ducks when Hosea started yelling.

Back at camp, the two settled onto their bedrolls once more. Arthur not so subtly pulled at the hem of his drawers, checking to see if his balls had indeed frozen and fallen off. He breathed a sigh of relief when they still seemed to be there, though he swore for a second his scrotum blinked up at him, but he didn't want to think about that too hard.

"Is the sun rising or setting?" Hosea asked.

"Erm... I think it set a while ago," Arthur mumbled, not really trusting himself.

There was a big ball of light in the sky but he wasn't sure if it was the sun or the moon. Or maybe it was gods eye staring down at his miscreant children.

"The stars are still out so it must still be dark," Hosea mused. He easily located Orion's belt in the sky.

But... Wait, had Orion always worn a gun belt? Since when was Orion a gunslinger? Oh shit he was drawing his weapon.

Hosea quickly reached for his rifle next to his bedroll, aiming up at the sky. At the same moment Orion pulled his gun, and the two gunslingers fired.

Hosea wasn't sure where Orion's bullet landed. His own shot seemed to go just over Orion's shoulder. Like gentlemen they'd both shot over each other, neither wanting to take the other's life.

"A draw," Hosea called out, setting his rifle aside.

"Nice shot," Arthur hummed, looking at the new home in the sky that Hosea's bullet had ripped through. He obviously had not seen Orion draw his gun on Hosea, else he likely would have tried to tackle the constellation out of the sky.

"Thank you," Hosea said proudly, laying back on his elbows.

He sighed, staring up at the stars once more.

The two men lay there for a time, lost in their own hallucinations. Eventually they both drifted off to sleep, just before sunrise.

~~~~~~~

When Arthur woke up, the sun was high in the sky. Actually it seemed like it was already on its downward journey, on the western half of the sky. They'd slept through most of the day already.

Arthur took a moment to take stock. He was still in nothing but his drawers, and it was only the shade of the trees they were camped under that had saved him from a terrible sunburn, laying out in the sun all day.

Arthur looked over the smoking coals of their dead campfire. Hosea was curled up around his bedroll like a cat, knees tucked up under his chin. That could not be comfortable, especially on older joints. Carefully, not quite trusting his balance after the night he'd had, Arthur pushed himself to his knees and crawled over to Hosea.

Carefully Arthur guided Hosea to lay on his stomach instead, easing his muscles out. Hosea grumbled and groaned, stirring but not quite waking up. He weakly tried to swat Arthur away.

"Come on, let me sleep," he grumbled.

"Fine, but if you keep sleeping like that your back is gonna seize up," Arthur chuckled.

Slowly Hosea seemed to wake up, rolling into his back and blinking up at the bright sky.

"You know, Arthur," Hosea grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. "I don't think those were parasol mushrooms,"

"Really?" Arthur huffed, rolling his eyes. "What gave you that idea?"

"But you know what?" Hosea sighed, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "I ain't felt that good in... I don't know how long," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I suppose," Arthur huffed a laugh. He had to admit, he hadn't slept so well in quite some time. True now he had a bit of a hangover. The sun was quite bright and he still felt sleepy. But he also felt relaxed and calm.

"Why don't we take a walk back around the lake to were you found those mushrooms. Take a closer look," Hosea hummed with a little gleam in his eye. Arthur recognized all to well the signs that Hosea was not-so-subtly trying to coax him into going along with something.

"What, you wanna do that again?" Arthur laughed.

"Why not?"

"Well I think it'll be pretty hard to hunt a moose when the trees are dancin',"

"Ah forget the moose," Hosea scoffed, waving his hand dismissively, smiling at Arthur. "You and I hardly ever get to just relax and have some fun. Let's just take a few days and... Let loose,"

"Whatever you say," Arthur shook his head. But Hosea could tell from his big grin that he was on the same page, just as ready as Hosea to have a good time.

~~~~~~~

"Well," Dutch called as the two rode into camp some days later. "You two sure took your time. Did you catch the moose?"

"No?" Hosea mumbled, uncertain. "No I don't... I don't think so,"

"You don't... Think so?"

"We got a little, er... Distracted," Arthur chuckled sheepishly.

"Distracted by what?" Dutch asked, looking between the two. Suddenly Dutch felt like he was faced with a young John and Arthur having just gotten back from doing something they shouldn't have been. "Don't tell me you two spent the entire trip drunk out of your minds," Dutch sighed.

"Er... Something like that," Hosea sighed.

"I did manage to find some mushrooms. You can have some if you want," Arthur mumbled, holding out a handful of the special mushrooms.

In sync Arthur and Hosea burst out laughing, nearly falling over with glee at Dutch's confused face.

#arthur morgan & hosea matthews #mushrooms #recreational drug use

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