#so that kids like me can know that they’re just as capable of being like that
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does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭
“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can.
“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before.
“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.
“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place.
“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.
“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”
“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.”
with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head.
“satoru, please don’t freak out—”
he freaks out.
he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”
you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”
“what grade curse was it?”
“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”
“you’re only grade one. why would they—”
“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”
“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently.
“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.”
“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”
“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”
“well when you come home hurt, yeah!”
he regrets it as soon as he says it.
and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“hey…”
he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.
_____
freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.
“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.”
“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket.
he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”
“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him.
“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.”
(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)
“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”
wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat.
“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.”
“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”
“ah. about that….”
_____
“alright, dinner’s served!”
you the kids exchange a look.
megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”
“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”
“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.
tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.
“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”
“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk angst#keeping up with the fushigojos#keeping up with the fushigojos: extended cut!
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summary: your best friend brags complains that he can't get laid due to his huge dick posing a threat to random girls at parties, so you offer to fix his little big problem
pairing: soobin x reader
genre: smut, best friends to lovers
warnings: explicit language, big dick soobin (canon event), size kink, foreplay, eating out, blowjob, hugging, fingering, size training, creampie, consensual intercourse, kissing, aftercare, allusions to death in a sexual context, lowkey possessive soobin at the end
author's note: the killa is on my mind 24/7 and im down bad for soobin 25/8 🥵 so i had to get it out of my system somehow 🤷
word count: 2k
“You’re kidding, right?” you ask your best friend when he makes a rather shocking confession as the two of you are sitting in his bedroom after one of your usual anime marathons.
“I wish I was. But I would never lie to you,” Soobin responds truthfully. His big moist eyes look a 100% genuine but it still sounds so...bizarre.
“Let me get this straight…Every time you try to hook up with a girl at one of those parties Yeonjun keep dragging you to, you go to a room, eat them out like the generous, selfless guy you are, and then after you take off your pants, they get scared by your gigantic cock and refuse to have sex, running away in horror?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to explain for the past 10 minutes, yeah,” Soobin confirms with a very adorable pout on his stupid face.
You shake your head in utter disbelief.
“I’m sorry but this is just ridiculous. Any girl would be happy to hook up with a guy that has a huge dick.”
“Well, I guess not any girl ‘cause this shit has happened three times already and I’m at my limit. Why can’t I just get laid?” Soobin bemoans his tragic destiny.
“No, I don’t get it. The least they could do is give you a quickie or something to return the favour. It’s so rude to just sprint away. I can’t believe your cock is that terrifying.”
“Ugh, please stop saying that. It’s so embarrassing,” Soobin covers his face behind his big hands. Hold on a minute…
“If what you’re saying is true, then I think it’s pretty hot. Those girls are surely missing out.”
“Or maybe they’re just looking after themselves. Like…I’m not mad at them for being spooked out, I just wish I could finally get some, you know?” Soobin sighs.
“Death by dick does seem appealing,” you shrug.
“Y/N!” he exclaims.
“Listen, what if I make you an offer? You prove to me that you weren’t exaggerating about your size and I promise I won’t run away and will take care of your…frustrations.”
“Are you seriously suggesting this?” Soobin freaks out. “This could ruin our friendship.”
“I won’t be weird about it, I swear. What do you say?”
“Fuck it. I’m so horny that this actually sounds like a good idea,” Soobin admits. “Can I eat you out first?”
“Erm, if you insist,” you reply, suddenly feeling nervous.
“I just wanna take care of you, make sure you’re all nice and wet for me,” Soobin explains patiently.
“You really don’t have to,” you reassure him.
“I know but it’d be awkward for me to just whip it out. Please?”
“Oh…okay,” you really can’t imagine saying no when he’s asking you so sweetly. God, what did you get yourself into?
Soobin takes off your leggings and panties in one swift movement and pushes you down gently on the bed so you are in a lying position. He spreads your thighs apart and looks at your pussy, already glistening with wetness caused by the conversation you’ve been having. Soobin smirks but doesn’t say anything about it. You’re grateful for that as he dives in, licking and kissing all over you. Fucking hell, if his tongue is capable of making you feel this way, you are slightly unnerved to find out what his cock can achieve. But unlike those girls at the parties, you are determined to never run away from your best friend.
Soon enough, you reach your high, overwhelmed by Soobin’s insane tongue movements and his big hands gripping your thighs. You need a few moments to gather your thoughts and when you are finally able to speak, those are the first words that leave your mouth:
“I think they fleed because you eat pussy like a starved animal. Seriously, what the hell was that?”
Soobin chuckles nervously and runs his fingers through his black hair, pushing it back and exposing his forehead for a bit.
“Trust me, it’s not that.”
“Prove it,” you challenge him even though you are fairly certain he’s telling the truth. Your best friend has never lied to you, so why start now?
Soobin takes off his pants, his hands are shaking and you immediately feel bad. You put your hand on his in an attempt to calm him down.
“Hey, you don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.”
“I do want this, but after so many failed attempts, I’m so anxious…”
“I’m not going anywhere, Soobin,” you insist and squeeze his hand reassuringly.
His skin complexion looks slightly less pale and your words seem to give him the confidence he so desperately needs. Moment of truth. Soobin takes off his boxers and…Oh damn, he was not exaggerating. He’s not just big, he’s so huge a part of you wonders how is it humanly possible to carry such a weapon around and maintain the gentle, humble composure with which Soobin carries himself.
“You’re not running yet,” he jokes.
“Soob?”
“Y-yeah?” his voice cracks, he is obviously terrified of what you’re going to say.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, I finally get why these girls ran away.”
“Oh,” he sounds a little dejected, as if already expecting you to go back on your offer.
“But! That’s not gonna stop me. Just tell me what you want first and I’ll try my best to make you happy.”
“Huh?” Soobin is too flustered to process your words.
“My hands, my mouth, or my pussy, what do you want first?”
“You mean…you’re willing to give me all of them?” he blinks in shock.
This poor, precious boy. Did he really face disappointment so many times that he is now looking a gift horse in the mouth with such uncertainty?
“Just pick, Soobie, I promise I’ll give you anything you need.”
“Um…can you suck me off? Please?”
Gosh, he’s so adorable you want to eat him.
You nod a little too enthusiastically and go down on your knees, taking as much of his cock as you can. It’s a tight fit but what you can’t put inside your mouth you make up for by wrapping your hands around him. You suck and lick and touch him, eager to give him as much pleasure as he did you. Your beloved best friend has obviously been frustrated for a while now because it doesn’t take him long to cum inside your mouth. There is so much you can’t manage to swallow it all despite your valiant efforts and you see some of it falling down your cheeks. You wipe it off with a finger, sticking it into your mouth, grinning widely at Soobin.
“Fuck, you’re incredible. What…how…are you okay?”
He presses his big palm against your cheek and it takes a lot of self-control for you to not melt right there and then.
“I’m great. Did…did it feel good for you?” you ask sheepishly.
You’re not particularly confident about your skills but you genuinely did your best for him.
“Are you crazy? It felt insanely good,” Soobin takes your hand, lifting you up and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.
“I’m glad,” you respond, feeling safer and warmer than ever before in your life.
“Do…you still want to…you know?” Soobin asks.
“If you’re asking whether you can put your cock inside my pussy, then yeah, go for it. As long as it’s something you want, of course.”
You keep reminding him to only do things he’s completely okay with, because you would hate to put your best friend in a situation he doesn’t enjoy just because of your greed.
“I want you so bad, you have no idea. But I think I’ll need to stretch you out a bit, yeah?”
“O-okay,” you quickly agree and in no time, Soobin’s long fingers are inside of your pussy, going deeper than your own have ever been and making you feel things you never even dreamed about.
“How does it feel?” Soobin asks in concern.
“Heavenly,” you admit and just as you’re about to reach your second orgasm, Soobin’s fingers leave you.
“N-no, why’d you do that?” you whine frustratedly.
“Wanna feel you come around my cock.”
As it turns out, you'd like this just as much so you quickly forgive him for ruining your orgasm.
“I think I have a condom in my-“ Soobin starts but you cut him off.
“I’m taking a pill. And I believe we’re both clean, so…”
“You gon’ let me fuck you raw?” Soobin inquires, not wanting to make assumptions.
“Yeah, I trust you,” you reply with conviction.
“You’re a dream,” Soobin chuckles and nudges the head of his cock against your moist entrance. You brace yourself for some level of discomfort and are surprised that it doesn’t come right away. Soobin takes his sweet time getting inside you, making sure you’re okay.
“Fuck, Soob, you're so big,” you moan, already feeling overstimulated.
“This is just the tip, baby,” he explains shyly, which makes you lose your mind.
Soobin goes deeper very slowly, making you feel every inch, stretching you out bit by bit.
“How much more?” you ask somewhat impatiently.
“Just a little bit. Can’t help it that your pussy is so tiny,” he teases you.
“Not my fault your dick is so gigantic,” you bite right back.
“I promise, I'll try my best not to split you in half,” Soobin jokes, which does little to ease your worries, but at the same time only makes you wetter.
“Keep talking to me,” you plead for him.
“Does it hurt?” he wants to know, as he keeps entering you further.
“It’s a good kind of hurt,” you explain, wincing slightly.
Once you’ve gotten used to it, you signal to Soobin that he can start moving and he does just that, fucking into you with an impressive speed. You try to meet him halfway, lifting your hips up for him, melting into one.
“You’re taking it so well, my darling best friend,” Soobin praises you relentlessly.
“Anything for you, Soobie,” you cry out in sweet bliss.
“I’m close,” Soobin confesses soon enough.
“Fill me up,” you beg him, almost in a daze, deeply affected by his overpowering presence.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice and spills his seed inside of you. It feels so good that you cum with him, walls clenching around his enormous dick. Soobin leans down to kiss you, further blurring the lines between friendship and…whatever this is.
Then, he takes his cock out and you realize something far more terrifying than his intimidating size - you are falling in love with your best friend.
Soobin quickly brings a towel and a bottle of water, taking care of you like no one else before. You want to cry, touched by his sweetness and falling even further.
“How do you feel?” Soobin brushes a piece of hair behind your ear.
“I feel…like I'm on another planet,” you confess shakily.
Soobin chuckles, visibly relieved to hear that.
“You’re so cute,” he murmurs, enveloping you in a hug. His large frame towers over you and if it was anyone else, you’d probably feel slightly threatened. But this is Soobin, and even though he just fucked your brains out, you feel completely safe and protected. Safe enough to be honest about how you feel.
“I know I promised not to be weird about it but…I don’t think I can go back to being friends.”
Soobin pales for a moment, scared of losing you.
“Why not?” he blinks, barely restraining his tears.
“I wanna belong to you,” you try to ease his worries by openly saying what your heart and soul desire.
“Oh…But baby, you already do,” Soobin suddenly beams with excitement. “And I belong to you, too.”
“I think you killed me a little,” you laugh. “Killed my pussy with your big cock and ruined me for other men.”
Soobin raises an eyebrow.
“Bold of you to assume that I’d let other men near your pussy. You’re all mine now.”
The End
#txt#soobin#txt smut#txt hard thoughts#txt hard hours#size k!nk#soobin x reader#soobin smut#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#txt imagines#soobin imagines#writing
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WHEREVER YOU WANNA GO, THAT’S FINE WITH ME — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
cw mentioned/talks about death but not like… in a serious way 😭 this whole thing is very unserious and stupid it’s just a thought i couldn’t get out of my head, megumi being… megumi, f2l but what’s new, also inspired by some clip from a tv show i’ve seen on tt but idk the name of it, if you do pls let me know
you ask megumi you make one of those marriage pacts with you—that if neither of you are married by thirty-five, you two will get married to each other—and he just hums for a moment before asking, “do you think i’ll be better suited for marriage at thirty-five?”
“what? n—i don’t know? maybe? it just seems like an appropriate age to get married if you’re not already, that’s all,” you explain.
more humming. he blinks, “i don’t think i’ll be all that different at thirty-five.”
“well, that’s concerning,” you joke, “you’re supposed to change—grow a little bit as a person and all that, megumi. even you are capable of it.”
“i won’t want anything different out of a marriage at thirty-five than i would right now,” he corrects you, then turns to you, and with all seriousness demands, “so, state your stipulations. what do you want from me, let’s figure out of this is gonna work now.”
you scoff, and cross your arms. “what do i want from you? that’s not how a marriage works.”
“that’s how this friendship already works.”
you say, megumi does; he pushes it than he should have, you say to stop, and eventually he does, and the cycle continues. he’s always stubborn, and sacrificing himself beyond necessity, and you’re always pulling his ear for it.
“okay. fine,” you settle, straightening your posture, “i want a house. three bedrooms, so nobara and yuuji don’t have to bicker about sharing when they stay over.”
megumi considers it, then counters with, “four. gojo needs a bedroom, too. one floor, i don’t like stairs.”
“where the fuck are we going to find a one-level four-bedroom house? i don’t want to live in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”
“we’ll find one,” he shrugs, doesn’t flinch when he promises: “or i’ll have one made for us. next: vacations.”
“twice per year. somewhere tropical, and somewhere metropolitan.”
“i don’t like the beach.”
“then you don’t have to go on the beach.”
“you’re responsible for me if i burn.”
“i’m responsible for you either way, i’m your wife,” you taunt, “pets, next. i want dogs. two. maybe three. and a bunny.”
“no bunnies, they’re too much work.”
“but i want a bunny, megumi.”
“you won’t have time for a bunny,” he rolls his eyes, “and you’re gonna get pissed when it chews up the expensive couch you’re gonna make me buy, and takes a shit in the expensive fruit bowl you’re gonna con gojo out of. no bunnies.”
you pout and frown, but megumi doesn’t budge: “no bunnies.”
you sigh, “no bunnies, but i want the dogs.”
“i didn’t say no to the dogs. unless you want a golden, then i’m not raising that.”
“why not? we already have yuuji.”
“exactly, we already have yuuji.”
“fine. i want a king sized bed. the really big, oversized ones you get in america.”
“done. children?”
“you want children?”
megumi shrugs, but you swear there’s a dust of pink on his cheeks, “maybe. maybe not. if i did, no more than two.”
and suddenly you can’t help but feel heat in your own face, hot with the image of two tiny megumis running around.
“that’s fine with me. maybe kids, but no more than two,” you cough, “i want one of those heated driveways for the house.”
“i’ll have it built. i’ll clean and do laundry and take out the trash if you cook.”
“what about days i don’t cook?”
“then i’ll do that, too,” megumi nods, “anything else?”
“yes. if i die first, you can remarry, but you visit my grave at least twice a year, and bring peonies. and that picture of me from prom where i look really good.”
“no.”
you stop. you blink. “what do you mean ‘no?’ you wouldn’t visit my grave?—kinda cruel considering i birthed your up-to-two future children and raised your dogs.”
“i won’t remarry. and i don’t want you to if i die first,” he corrects you, again, “and there’s no dying first and leaving me behind, i’m going with you.”
he doesn’t leave room for debate in his declarations: won’t, don’t; not wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t—you have to pinch yourself to stop chasing the rabbit of temptation running through your mind.
“i don’t… think you get to decide that,” you chuckle.
“of course i do,” megumi grins, uncrosses his legs and leans over. he reaches a hand to the back of your head and pushes it forward until your foreheads meet gently; and as if the affection wasn’t shocking enough, he continues, “where you go, i go. that’s marriage, right?”
he widens his smile a bit, before letting you go, leaning back into his seat again with crossed arms like nothing happened, and you’re left staring, blinking, breathing shallowly like prey that narrowly escaped being caught.
you don’t speak, so megumi does, “i have one more thing.”
and slowly, you unthaw enough to let out a questioning hum. megumi tilts his head before telling you, “i want your last name.”
“what? you—you would change your name?” you stutter, “but fushiguro is so pretty! and it’s your mom’s name, so few people get their mother’s names.”
“yeah. this way, our up-to-two children get their mother’s names, too.”
“i—okay… yeah, i guess they do,” you gape, then pout, “wait, what if i wanted to be mrs. fushiguro?”
“tough luck,” he grins, “you get everything else.”
you get me, instead, is what’s left unsaid.
“okay, fine. sounds like a deal to me.”
“great. we can’t have a spring wedding because gojo and toji will sneeze obnoxiously loudly, and we can’t have a summer wedding because the anniversary will conflict with our tropical vacation, and nobara will kill us if it’s too close to her birthday,” he says, standing up from the couch to head to the kitchen, “so i’ll see you at the courthouse in september.”
you nod reflexively, sinking back into the couch with a satisfied smile. it’s a while before your brain processes his words, and when it finally does, you spring up in a fluster, “october? megumi, i said when when we’re thirty-five and if neither of us are already married! megumi? megumi fushiguro, come back here!”
#i......... need to inhale him. that's all.#you can ignore all of this i just NEEDED to get this out of my head he's SO. he's his daddy's son that's what he is#which daddy? it doesn't matter 😐 which is why he's extra terrible#this also lives in an au where megumi is like 'are u done dating other guys yet 🙄 dont u know that we're endgame'#and has never made a single romantic comment to u before in ur entire life OH i hate him#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk scenarios#jjk imagines#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#megumi fluff
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thinking about bunny being in a slightly difficult mood, grumpy, huffing and stomping her foot around tannyhill. rafe’s trying to let her have her temper tantrum since they’re a rare occurrence. but after a few hours of her sour mood not letting up, he manhandles her rove this lap to put in her bunny plug and finger her till she cries and he’s cooing at her about how “only dad can fix that little attitude huh, bun?”
oh my god??????
(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡
he can handle the grumpiness, stomping around in little heels and huffing at minor inconveniences. sour moods never last too long with you, so having to deal with you isn’t exactly something that concerns him. however, he is a little surprised to learn that after a few hours — you’re carrying that same amount of aggression, manicured nails digging into your palm as you storm around with clenched fists, shrugging carelessly to whatever rafe asks you and bottom lip permanently jutted into a pout.
the final straw is when you go to pull your shirt from your dresser where it was folded, tugging a little too hard and hearing a tear. usually, this wouldn’t bother you. you knew deep down that it was no biggie to get something like that fixed, and rafe would never let you walk around with holes in your clothes — but the simple act of it happening sent you over the edge, screaming at the top of your lungs and repeatedly beating the shirt on the dresser, kicking your kitten-heeled feet against the wood of it until the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend had arrived behind you.
“the fuck is —” he cuts himself off, seeing the scene before him, taking in the dramatics before instantly doing what he knew should have done hours ago. in seemingly one quick movement, rafe yanks you by the arm out the way while opening the drawer and pulling out the clean bunny buttplug just waiting for usage. “alright, alright — alright!” he yells over your fussing until it was just broken whines and cries, the boy forcing you over his lap on the bed.
“its broken—” you go to yell once more as rafe yanks up your skirt, but he cuts you off quickly — asserting his dominance in hopes you’ll simply relax.
“lower your voice kid, won’t ask you again.” he commands sternly, and luckily you don’t bother again, sucking in short breaths and sniffling into the bedsheets as he works your panties off completely, knowing you won’t be needing them anymore.
you groan when rafe slots his hand beneath your throat and lifts your head with his grip, bending as much as he can to crane over you and hold the plug to your mouth. “c’mon. get it wet. don’t waste my time.” he taps your bottom lip and you sniffle, drooling until not only the metal was coated but his fingers were too from the run off. “shit, crazy girl.” he tsks as he leans back, touching the tip of it to your puckered hole. “you’re gonna calm the hell down. alright? once this is in you’re gonna chill out. i know you need me to fix that little attitude, okay i know. but you gotta use your words and not freak out on me. daddy can’t help you otherwise. yeah?” he talks to you as he pushes it in, feeling relief in the way your body melts on his lap, still sucking in harsh breaths but slower.
“yeah.” you repeat, knowing you had to say something but your brain was in melting mode, not capable of thinking of much else.
“alright. good. now, look at me — m’gonna ask you something n’i want an answer.” he demands, slowly helping your trembling body to stand between his legs. you clutch his white shirt in your fists, grounding yourself as your tearful eyes flicker over his face. you make a noise of acknowledgment so that he can continue. “what do you want? i— i can’t fix it for you baby ‘cos i don’t know what it is.” he flings out an arm, gesturing the shirt you left strewn on the floor. “is it that? do you want me to look at that? do you need a nap? food?” he shakes his head in exasperation, wide eyes searching yours with parted lips like he was really trying to figure you out.
you sniffle, shuffling on your feet as you stand inbetween his legs, his arm around your lower back keeping you leaning on him — and you’re not saying anything. he blinks, before speaking once more. “its dick. you want dick, huh?”
you didn’t know you did. truthfully, you’d been in a god awful mood all day, feeling like everything was going wrong — and in that moment things became just a little clearer as to why that might be. rafe hadn’t fucked you all week, you’d been out and about doing your own things — which is normal and okay in every relationship — just not in yours. you needed rafe to remind you who’s boss, because you didn’t wanna have to think anymore.
“please.” you nod, fiddling with his shirt button and the hand around your back slides down to beneath your skirt, tugging at the tail before massaging his fingers over your empty hole, feeling the way it gets sticky around him.
“hm. i should’a known.” he drawls, eyeing over you before plucking at your clothes. “gotta take this off, yeah? lemme see you.”
(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡
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astro observations 12
heyy here are some of the things i found out lately while i was wasting time
——
🎠 An aries moon and capricorn sun man, I always find this mix intriguing. Can give off the vibes of a character straight out of a webtoon, or a fuck boy that’s just visibly toxic. Either way I find them so incredibly magnetic. They possess strong fiery auras and usually have a rebellious streak to them. If they act out of their shadows they can be arrogant, insensitive, disloyal and only chase after the physical.
🎠 Initially I wondered why eminem doesn’t give me libra sun vibes at all, then I looked a bit deeper into his chart and realized that he’s just textbook uranian, he even looks like an alien and acts like one at times. He got sun conjunct uranus, aquarius moon, mars conjunct uranus, and uranus square nn. He was born to be a rebel.
🎠 He’s one of greatest rappers to exist and it’s worthy to mention some of the aspects that indicate his unique talent for rapping. First of all mars conj uranus is known to give unique talents, so that’s that. In this case sun and mars conj uranus granting him a natural rhythm, quick thinking, and unique expression. But the supersonic speed doesn’t come just from that. What’s interesting is that his ability to be a fast rapper and master lyricist is amplified by pluto also being in libra, conjunct his mars and pallas, fueling him with anger, intensifying his capabilities with determination, and heightened mental control and intelligence. Saturn is also in an air sign (gemini), indicating speed and intelligence. This gives rise to a grand air trine, linking his powerful stellium of sun, mars, uranus, pluto, and pallas in libra, his moon in aquarius, and saturn in gemini. The stars really aligned there making him the rap god huh.
🎠 If you know eminem's story you'd know that he had a tough upbringing. From a difficult mother and absent father to being an outcast bouncing between schools and sketchy neighbourhoods, the only white kid in a black community, being bullied by gangs, and even beaten up till he drifted out of consciousness, then dropped out of school. Makes me think it's why he keeps his bodyguards with him all the time! He was left with nothing and a daughter to provide for, encountered racial prejudice in rap contests for being white, despite these obstacles, he rose to become the best-selling hip-hop artist and earned recognition from rappers as one of the greatest of all time. Leads me to the next obs.
🎠 Heavy uranus/aquarius or 11°, 23° can easily become misfits without trying to. They’re constantly put in new environments, places where they’re the only ones of their kind, like a white kid in a black community, a foreign in a mostly local area, the new kid in school. There’s always ‘something different about them’ that people pick up on even if it was as early as elementary school. Which may get them outcasted or bullied. Their experiences at times lead them to hate school and drop out.
🎠 People with these placements have something special to offer the world. It may seem like obstacles are constantly put in their way without them doing anything, but it’s their path unfolding. So they can wake up from their conditioned states and break from the status quo. The more that happens the more they realize who they are.
🎠 Here’s why I think those that got capricorn north node can be the best fathers or the child’s favorite parent. It’s part of their destiny to be a caregiver and a good example for their children and they have the biggest hearts when it comes to caring for them and protecting them. They desire to give their child what they themselves may have lacked in their youth and shield them from the pain they experienced. Their child is their inspiration and reason to keep going in a way.
🎠 The biggest two examples I can give, Eminem singing mockingbird (one of my favs) for his daughter Hailie. He often mentions her in award shows, and did a whole diss track (killshot), in 13 minutes btw lmao, just because MGK made a tweet about his daughter. The other example is Travis Scott singing goosebumps for his daughter Stormi on stage and bringing her to his concerts. She has always said that her fav parent is her dad. Anyway, don’t mess with these ppl’s kids they’ll go after you to the end of the world.
🎠 Men with mercury conjunct saturn have deeper voices, speak slowly and eloquently like they’re a 50 year old even if they’re 25. They are very grounded, have a methodical way of thinking and are wise beyond their years. Also masters at dodging questions.
🎠 I’ve seen it a lot and experienced it myself having an aries stellium. Women with a lot of aries or mars placements can often feel like they’re more cute, youthful and sexy in a cool way rather than the typical feminine way. They often have toned bodies, smaller chests and a lot of masculine qualities that trying to appear too feminine can feel fake to them.
🎠 People with north node in capricorn can feel like they've been robbed of the success they deserve. It's giving the vibe of a musician that has worked so damn hard on their album and received public success but no official awards, then released another album and did it again and again and still haven’t gotten a grammy. I mean grammys are scams but ykwim. Along the lessons of success and accomplishment, there's also a profound lesson in patience and self-validation, a focus on recognizing one's worth from within rather than seeking external validation.
🎠 I noticed that aries, gemini, aquarius and capricorn placements or heavy mars, mercury, uranus and saturn can prefer skirts over dresses or just wear pants all the time.
🎠 Those with uranus-neptune in pisces really brought back the love for anime, manga, webtoons, cosplay, colourful cute aesthetics, dreamcore, surrealist aesthetics and art. They just got a dreamland vibe to them and it’s quite fascinating to see.
🎠 I have north node in leo and I'm starting to look like my 5 year old self, no joke, connecting to your inner child can do that. Looking at my childhood photos stirs up emotions within me. I often find myself reminiscing and yearning for that carefree time when I was simply myself, devoid of societal pressures. Plus, I can't help but notice after fixing my fucked up teeth I got my child smile back. I feel like I'm in a journey of rediscovery as I start to recognize that childlike spirit within me once again.
🎠 Those with sagittarius, libra, taurus, gemini, leo and aries placements have the most beautiful smiles omg, like it does something to your heart. Please keep smiling it really brightens up this world. I mean I can fit all the signs here I just love when others smile. 🥺
🎠 Mercury opposite pluto, these native can say exactly what would get them mocked or bullied. They keep starting the wrong fights for the wrong reasons. They could get triggered of people who communicate better than them. Their lesson lies in improving their communication skills, cultivating tactfulness and diplomacy, and learning to reclaim their power in a psychological manner rather than resorting to mindless verbal confrontations.
🎠 Mars conj/opp pluto can at times experience violence early on, in school or their neighborhood. They experience a lot of obstacles constantly, inner and outer pressures that they may feel like giving up. These challenges ultimately instill within them greater resilience and determination to pursue their goals. Many martial artists and athletes have this aspect, seeking an outlet to channel the intense anger they experience.
🎠 People with aries north node really go from one battle to another without a break. Leaving behind their need to compromise and avoid confrontations can be challenging but is the very thing that brings those battles. Eventually they will find themselves needing to defend themselves alone with no support, fighting back relentlessly no matter what and stop compromising to keep the peace. They will gain this sense of self assurance and bravery to face anything in life.
🎠 I know someone with a lot of saturn oppositions, aquarius sun and stellium opposite saturn, capricorn moon and aries nn. This person has always been underestimated by their parents and always felt like an outsider. They had controlling parents that imposed so many restrictions on them. They also were targeted in school for having a funny and likable personality. Being their aquarius mc and aries mercury bestie I saw their potential and encouraged them to fight back even if it meant making a scene. They eventually built up the courage to stand up for themselves no matter how alone they are. But they also have this wisdom to know when to pick their battles and when to ignore things and let them go, which I look up to.
🎠 People with a lot of chiron conjunctions or oppositions have a heart of gold. Real angels on earth that have been through it. They have so much compassion and understanding for others because they’ve been hurt in many ways. They know what it feels like to be wounded by life and have tremendous amounts of empathy for that. They have sensitive souls and their presence alone can make others feel seen and heard. I appreciate these people a lot, like thank u for existing.
#aries moon#uranus#capricorn#aries north node#capricorn north node#leo north node#astro observations#eminem#astrology#astro community#astro notes#mars conjunct uranus#sun conjunct uranus#mars conjunct pluto#gemini saturn#degrees#mercury conjunct saturn#pisces uranus#neptune#pisces neptune#north node#mercury opposite pluto#saturn#chiron#saturn opposite sun#aquarius#aries
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Reader as Persephone's only daughter? And she doesn't get into relationships bc of her mother's past as she was kidnapped by Hades?? Like History repeats itself with Luke being so obsessed with her and the reader doesn't know that she'll just end up like her mother
hello, hello! this one is definitely long overdue. i've been very busy with uni, but this ask was very intriguing!!! thank you for sending, anon ♡ (bonus scene at the end lol)
Luke Castellan wasn’t immediately taken by her the first time she set foot on Camp Half-Blood, that much was certain. She was only a topic of interest because she was Persephone’s daughter, promised yet unexpected all the same. He was far too caught up with claiming his own hoard of kleos to entertain ideas of attraction; however, she became a friend soon enough.
“What are you growing?” He asked her during a spring afternoon years ago, so insignificant that a normal person would forget it entirely.
“I don’t know yet actually.” She responded with pursed lips. Her open palms lingered just above the brown earth, colorful beads dangled from her wrists.
Luke raised an eyebrow.
At his silence, she looked up then waved a packet in front of him. She smiled. “Secret stash from Persephone.”
“Now, I’m not really the boss or anything but I think I’ve been here long enough to know the rules.” He perched his forearm against the bark of a tree, leaning his weight against it. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”
“But you wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” She batted her eyelashes sweetly, jokingly. She turned back to her lump of land. “‘Sides, they're harmless… I think.”
He remained silent and observed as a sprout quickly rose from the depths of her plot. A number of curved leaves on top leaning stems dotted the once empty ground. She rose from her knees, dusting off pellets of grass that hitched onto her clothing.
“That's it?” He asked her, sounding very unimpressed. Was this the extent of her god-gifted abilities?
She narrowed her eyes at him as she stretched. “I don’t give a show for free, Castellan.”
“What do you want in exchange, then?” He asked curiously. He wanted to see— witness what Persephone’s little seedling was capable of flowering.
She thought for a moment then shrugged her shoulders. She walked away from him with a wave. “Grow something of your own then we negotiate the terms.”
A few weeks later, he proudly paraded a plant pot all around camp in search of her. Most of the younger kids looked at him a bit judgmentally when he held it up like he was Rafiki and the little thing was his Simba.
She emerged from the greenhouse after several vexingly loud knocks. She looked down at Luke’s outstretched arms, her lips twitching in amusement at the container filled with inch-long two-leaved sprouts.
“Strawberries?” She pursed her lips. She motioned to the fields of berries sprawling to the left of them. “A bit unoriginal considering…”
“Well, you didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed to grow strawberries.” He reasoned.
“Touché.” She ceded. She placed a hand over the pot, the sprouts growing exponentially before she took it from Luke's hands. She spent a handful of minutes transferring them into the dirt.
Luke watched silently, interested and intrigued by the alacrity with which she moved.
“Can you look away for a sec?” She spoke suddenly. She turned towards him, all seriousness. “The glaring is pressuring them. They’re a bit self-conscious.”
“Oh.” He looked away immediately, distracting himself instead with the silvers of light that shone through the canopy of branches of a tree not far from him. He listened to her hum as she worked. He couldn't help but return his gaze to her once in a while.
“Done!” She proclaimed excitedly, pulling off her gardening gloves with a satisfied look on her face.
Three strawberry bushes stood before him, taking up residence in what was an empty patch of land mere seconds ago. His lips parted slightly in surprise— it definitely wasn’t uncommon for demi-gods to inherit some of their parents’ powers, but he was startled by how quickly it manifested, especially for botanokinesis.
“Impressed enough?” She crossed her arms with a grin.
“Just the right amount.” He responded casually, returning her smile. He bent down to pick a big ripe berry from the branches.
He bit into it, the juices trickling down his chin. “Sweet.”
He offered the other half to her. She looked down at it skeptically before Luke urged her with a slight little shake from the bundle of leaves at the fruit’s head. She took it into her own hold then lifted it up to her mouth.
𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍
In her iteration of the story, Luke wasn’t merely a stand-in for Hades. He wasn’t simply her captor— he was also her pomegranate. His smiles, his looks, his words, his lies, his charm and his wit were all the seeds she foolishly consumed over the years. She yearned desperately for the tart sweetness he offered and unknowingly caused her own captivity.
Bound, bent and broken: this was the fate of Persephone’s only child.
In the darkness of the night, with the hum of Luke’s faint snoring keeping her senses alive despite the late hour, she wondered to herself briefly: was this how her mother felt?
She paused at the thought. Surely, it was a thousand times worse for her mother— a dread and pain so unfathomable that she couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Persephone was innocent; she was tricked and taken advantage of. She, however, was complicit: ignorant at first, but willing to succumb to Luke’s pleas and promises even if she knew the horrors of what he was attempting to do.
“Can’t sleep?” He whispered suddenly, jolting her out of her reverie. His hand moved to rest against her hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles onto her skin.
“Hm,” She hummed absent-mindedly. She turned around to face him, breathing in the scent of sea and sweat that lingered on him— a glaring reminder of what he was getting himself into.
Luke caged his arms around her then pressed a kiss against her temple. "Mine."
"Yours." She responded softly.
He returned to sleep in a matter of seconds, but he held her firmly against him. She couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. She didn’t even want to, anyway.
She closed her eyes. Luke’s presence was her prison, and she was insane enough to willingly stay shackled, albeit metaphorically, regardless of how horrific that sounded.
This was her underworld— her own dauntingly lovely elysium.
BONUS scene from my first draft that i didn't continue writing:
“Well, what’s her master plan then?” She asked. “Why kidnap me?”
“You’re Persephone’s daughter.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was enough explanation as to why the leader of a rebellion against the gods wanted to kidnap the spawn of the Goddess of Spring— really, what did he think she was gonna do for him? Grow daffodils and tulips to distract his enemies? It didn’t seem like horticulture proved useful on the battlefield.
“I am not going to grow potatoes and peas for her little revolt, Castellan.” She scoffed.
Of course she knew why she was being held captive. Pretending to be foolish and ignorant never hurt anybody, though. Let him think she was dumbed down enough to bend to his will.
“You’re basically Hades’ daughter.” He continued, essentially bypassing her reply. It was a bit rude, honestly, but the fact that he kidnapped her showed plenty about the state of Luke’s manners.
“Careful what you say, Lukey.” She would’ve wagged her fingers if her wrists weren’t so tightly bound together. “You might just insult another one of the gods.”
Her relationship with her stepfather was… civil yet glacial at best; definitely on brand for him, actually. On her annual winter-break visits to the Underworld, he’d just ignore her for the most part (very understandable, there wasn’t much in common between an eons-old powerful god and a nineteen year old, except the angst probably, but that was a very awkward topic to breach with a father figure). Most of the time, she assumed he just tolerated her because of her mother.
“With you on board, Hades is going to think twice before attacking,” He explained further. He began to pace in front of her. “Your presence might even dissuade him from attacking at all.”
Oh. Oh.
“Sweetheart,” She called him softly with a condescending coo in her tone. “Oh, sweetie. You’re delusional.”
#luke castellan x you#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#pjo tv show#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo
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hello! first post on this blog. how lovely! i’m not normal about miguel o’hara. specifically yandere miguel. i wrote some hcs. theres also what i believe is called a drabble down there.
warning: not proofread, lowercase, kidnapping (twice), mentions of miguels past, hcs in no particular order, sfw surprisingly, descriptive + gory threats directed at a random person, miguel is paranoid, reader is gender neutral but masculine, i haven’t watched the movie yet, i used that spanishdict.com website but i am not a native speaker so help is appreciated, lmk if i missed anything
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i respect everyone’s headcanons very much but imo: y’all got yandere miguel SO terribly wrong. he is a stoic, violent asshole, yes, but think logically!!! would this man, who watched his wife and kid die, ever hurt the object of his love? /lh
i think he’d probably treat you like glass no matter how much you insist that you’re capable of autonomy and he’d try to have the patience of a saint, but it can run thin.
if he gets severely pissed off, expect furniture to be thrown and screaming to ensue—but one look at your fearful eyes, all watery as he backs you into a corner, it makes him melt and cradle you in his arms. he cares for you so, so much and would never want to scare you.
miguel is kidnapping you. absolutely no doubt about it. he can’t trust you to be in other dimensions where so many things could go wrong, where it could collapse or you could be caught in the crossfire of a canon event or—no. no, you have to stay with him, where he can watch out for you at all times. i think if you retaliated, all he’d do is restrain you in an inescapable hug and sink his fangs into your neck, putting just enough venom to make you sleep for a little. he apologizes profusely once you come to… but he doesn’t mean it. he’s sorry to hurt you, sure, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe. with him.
miguel has no qualms about hurting anyone else, though! barista seems just a little too gregarious? miguel’s talons spring from the pads of his fingers as he taps his fingers on the table. he smiles at you. it’s a warning. ‘i could kill them, you know.’ he says with his eyes. ‘right now, if i wanted to, i could rake my claws across their throat. i could pick you up and run out before anyone else caught me. before they’d even get a chance to fall to the ground dead.’ his gaze flickers to the door. he runs his tongue across his fangs. ‘or i could bite them. shoot venom all inside their bloodstream. they wouldn’t pass out like when i did it to you, they’d die. they’d die painfully and slowly, their body shutting off as the pain made them wish it happened faster. all because they were smiling at you just a little too long.’ his eyes shine with mirth. he thinks it’s all a joke. you decide to put and end to his cruel mocking by standing up abruptly, grabbing his hand, and dragging him towards a different table far away from the poor barista.
at home, he’s affectionate. so saccharinely affectionate. he doesn’t—won’t respond to his name, you have to call him some nickname or pet name or something. “miggy.” “guel.” those are accepted, but he cracks a genuine smile whenever you call him by something corny and sweet like “baby” or “love.” he’s more likely to comply to a request if you call him a pet name, but he allows you some freedoms at the least. internet: heavily monitored, only when he’s with you. tv and video games are fine, as long as they’re only local co-op or singleplayer. you’re only allowed a phone so you can text him if you need him.
he nearly always finds time for you. as soon as he’s home, he’s attached to you like a lifeline. his touch never leave your body—he’s always holding your hand or waist or kissing you from behind and murmuring words into your ear. “mi cariño, i missed you at work. i’m tired, hermoso, please can we go lay down for a little?” he’ll ask. you’ll comply, if you want, and subject yourself to being smothered in his arms for 1-3 hours while he cuddles up with you and sleeps, but if not then he’ll whine until you let him lay his head down on your lap as you watch tv and ignore him. he so desperately craves the domestic affection he once had with his family.
speaking of ignoring him, please don’t. he’ll go insane. before the first day’s up, he’ll beg you for as much as a glance towards him, even if it’s a scornful glare it means you’re functional. he’ll become more and more desperate, clinging to you and your every word, movement, and nonverbal communication. after a long time—maybe a week, if he can stand it, he’ll cry into your chest until you explain what it is you want. at that point, he’d be willing to do almost anything just for that never to happen again.
…almost anything.
(okay i’m gonna be real. i don’t know the difference between a fic or a drabble. i assume what follows is a drabble)
he wouldn’t let you leave, it’s too dangerous. you somehow managed to escape, and he tracked you down in a panic-induced frenzy. as soon as he wrapped you back in his arms, you realize you’ve seriously fucked up. he’s silent on the way back home and even silent until the next day. you wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and you find him in the kitchen. he acts like nothing happened at all, but begins a rather unsettling spiel as you eat.
“i did some thinking. i realized… it’s just not safe for you here!” he says slowly, circling you as you stared at the sizzling food in front of you. you don’t know if you should eat or not. his hands snake up to your shoulders, giving you a gentle back rub. “so i’ve decided we need to move. somewhere where you’re safe, you know?” miguel evidently noticed you hesitation to eat. “something wrong with the food, amor? i made it just for you. at least try some.”
you decide not to eat. you make a lame excuse about not being hungry. his hands tighten around your shoulders and then just as abruptly leave your skin. “you mind telling me why you won’t eat?” he whispers in your ear. you insist that you’re just not hungry. he growls in his throat, but suddenly switches into a smile. “of course. i’ll put it in the fridge for when you want it.” miguel says gently. he wraps the plate in saran wrap and set it in the fridge. “i took a day off. looks like we’re going to be together all today now.” he says. he leads you to the couch and assumes the regular position, laying with his head on your lap.
“i love you, y/n. i really, really fucking love you. you believe me, right? you know, right? you know how much i need you? to eat, to sleep, to breathe? i need you.” he says as you watch whatever show was on. “i… i don’t feel… well, i’ll explain later. how about you lay down this time? i know you like getting massaged.” he offers. you lay down, expecting to feel his hands press the knots out from your back, but instead you feel him grab your hand. “i’m sorry. i can’t imagine this is pleasant.” he apologizes, pressing one hand to your back so that you can’t move. his other hand brings your wrist to his lips and he kisses your forearm before sinking his fangs in. within seconds, you feel more and more drowsy.
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woohoo go me! i did it
anyways i’m super tired i wrote this all in one sitting
part 2
#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x male reader#miguel o’hara x reader#yandere miguel o’hara x reader#yandere miguel o'hara#tw yandere#yandere x male reader#m no im not actually ever gonna stfu about him. he’s so babygirl.#yandere miguel x reader#male reader#x dom male reader#dom reader
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Baby Mama (OPLA HEADCANNONS)
In honor of mothers day, here some little headcannons I cooked up for our faves! Hope yall enjoy lol
Luffy
-This mf was like...actually capable of conceiving a child lmao.
-There was really no like initial shock, it was more like overwhelming joy? There was honestly no need to reveal it to the rest of the crew since the second you told him he shouted it loud ad fucing possible.
-"Luffy, uhhh I think im pregnant." You huff, hand over your forehead as you try to figure out the next course of action.
"YOURE PREGNANT?! THATS GREAT!"
"Y/N IS WHAT?" Nami gasps, eyes flitting form you to Luffy, then to your belly.
"YOU’RE PREGNANT?! HOW?" Usopp questions, only to have Sanji interrupt,
"Well Usopp, when two people love eachother- or well... lets talk about he birds and the bee-"
"I KNOW HOW THAT WORKS DICKHEAD-"
-Luffy is a.....he's a great dad, just a little uhhhh...wild?
-You have to explain tho him that this baby cannot fucking eat solid food.
-He's learning and that’s all that matters. He knows when to get serious about his kid and when its okay to be a lil silly.
-Oh and be prepared for when your kid hits about 6-7 cause they're so much like their father its crazy-
Zoro
-He's thuroughly convinced its your fault because he knows for a fact he has impeccable pull out.
-"That’s not mine." He hums, pointing at the newborn with a raise brow.
The fucking liar this baby is his spitting image. Like your genes didn't evens stand a chance. The baby even fucking mean mugs like he does, that lil stoic face.
-"This isn’t yours?" You question, holding the baby up side by side with his obvious father.
"Nope"
-Once he’s like fully processed and accepted the fact that your pussy just so happened to weaken his pull out game, he will claim the child and make sure he's being helpful with both you and the infant.
-It was actually pretty fucking hilarious to see the baby try and latch to his nipple cause his tits are fucking massive. Heeee didn’t think it was that funny tho💀
-Just let the kid grow up a little bit and they’re all about their father, and even though he may not show it all the time, he adores his baby. And they will always be a baby in his eyes. And he things you’re a phenomenal mother even though it was sort of a surprise.
Nami
-You had come aboaded with a toddler. And sure enough they latched to Nami in a heartbeat.
-“AHT! No, you stay with me and let them work.” You reprimand, giving a quick apology to the tangarine haired girl.
“Oh no they’re okay. Hey, you wanna see something cool?” He hum, taking the 2 year old by the hand before you can protest.
-Auntie Nami accidentally turned to ‘mamami’ (Mama Nami) andddd it just stuck.
-one night the three of you had fall asleep in Nami’squarter and she had woke up and just, admires you both. She couldn’t help the way her chest squeezed when she thought about raising this child with you or how much she loved being a part of your lives.
Your eyes flutter open and you give her a knowing look, her face already tinted pink.
“Nami,” you begin, your free hand pushing hair behind her ear as she hold your wrist, placing a kiss there.
“Thank you, love you.” You hum, letting yourself fall back asleep.
-yeah she’s stuck with you two for life
-unironically calls you her baby mama
Usopp
-is literally the best fuckinf dad. Literally ever.
-he wants to make sure he’s an active part of your child’s life, being sure to keep you both in good health and high spirits.
-when you broke the news he was terrified. How good of a father could he be? He just don’t want to let you down.
-“W-What if our kid hates me?” He voices one night, hands holding your tummy.
“I doubt that’ll happen. You’ll be okay Uso.”
-Guess having impeccable aim runs in the family because by time your child is year they’re already throwing projectiles with phenomenal accuracy.
-you can’t tell me he doesn’t make most of your babies toys.
-he loves seeing you just have little moments with your baby, he definetly cried when they took their first steps.
-keeps a picture of the three of you tucked away
-hints at wanting another one from time to time
Sanji
-fainted when you told him.
-honestly he’s a little shocked. He didn’t really put ‘father’ on his goal list but here yall are lol
-he’s very supported and knows that morning sickness is a bitchhhh
-“how’re my girls…or boy” he greets, pressing a kiss to your tummy then to your lips.
-much to his surprise, he was right on both parts because you’re having twins! Yayyyyy
-you cuss him out when your in labor.
-“SANJI YOU ASSHOLE! YOU DID THIS TO ME! WHY DID I FALL FOR YOUR DELICIOUS FOOD YOU FUCK!”
-he’s not allowed in the delivery room lmao he fainted again when the nurse asked if he’d like to see what was goin on
-after 6 horrendous hours, your baby boy and girl are finally born and he’s too delighted.
-“good job baby.” He praises, peppering your tired face with kisses.
-when the kids are older he’s always falling victim to their puppy eyes and begging when they ask for dessert before dinner
-“please dad! We won’t tell mom! Pleaseeee!”
-he loves being with you and loves that he’s been blasted with a wonderful wife and two beautiful children
Shanks
-oh the minute he found out he was stunned! He was sure he already had an illegitimate baby somewhere but for one of the baby mamas to actually let him know was, a bit of a surprised?
-and that’s it. He doesn’t really go out of his way to go visit and see if it’s true. He goes on about his business truely.
-one day, he comes across a lady at a bar, her bright red hair thrown up and she waits tables, her gaze almost immediately locking on his as she frowns
-….what the fuck she looks just like him.
-she goes to a couple other of the waiters/waitresses and the minute they catch his gaze they’re nodding profusely at her.
-it took, shit you not. 3 hours for them to get a table and that was only because her boss came in and MADE her seat the crew.
-“what do you want.” She huffs, her notepad clenched so tight it crumples the paper.
Shanks only further studies the girl, her rage ever present as she slams the notepad down.
“I SAID, What. Do. You. Want. Quickly, or I’m leaving you here to wait 3 more hours. Spit it the fuck out you old bastard.” She spits, leaving him somewhat shocked.
-“How about the-“
-“we’re all out. Deadbeat.” She finishes, dropping her apron and notepad, then walking out.
Safe to say that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
-when he finds where you guys live and YOU answer the door thank god, he firstly apologizes (which you don’t accept right away) and explains how he already met your daughter.
Speak of the devil she had just rounded the corner asking who it was.
“Don’t let this fucker the house mom, please.” She begs, gaze flittering form you to her sperm donor.
-yeahhhhhh this is why he hardly ever makes the effort to see his unsuspecting kids. Doesn’t quite pan out how he thinks.
Mihawk
- you’re not the only one at all. He’s got plenty fucking kids running around and you’re fully aware of that, having run into more than one child that looks just mf like him.
-he won’t deny any of them, but he doesn’t feel like he owes them anything either? It’s weird and you usually feel bad that he picked you and your child when he could very well have done that for the rest of them.
-he often assures you that we’re were one night stand situations he hardly remembers after being so damn drunk.
-he’s a good dad though and a great husband. He makes sure you’re taken care of even is he’s gone a lot of the time. When you told him you were having a baby he didn’t leave from your side.
-when the baby is born he’s a bit suprised they don’t look like him but as soon as they open their eyes he’s so mf smug. Those eyes are a dead giveaways that’s his baby.
-don’t let that baby ask for something be used Mihawk will without a doubt give it to them no matter what.
-“Honey I-“
-there standing in front of the fridge, in laminated with its light are your husband and child. Their eyes wide like an owls, staring directly into your soul.
-“We wanted ice cream.”
Buggy
-he loves his babies. Hands down loves his fucking babies. Plural because of course you were blessed/cursed with triplets.
-two boys, one sweet girl, and not one of them look like their daddy, besides that faint tint of blue in their hair.
-and he’s maddddd, well. not at you but at his genes.
-“honey wait, they might just grow into it?” You encourage, trying not to laugh as he tried to figure out why his kids don’t look like him.
-thank god you were right because by time they were all 4/5 that blue had brightened and the little red glow of their noses were ever present.
-he’s so attentive with you, taking care of the three of them when you need rest or just in general cause how gorgeous wife needs rest after making three gorgeous babies
-freaks his babies out when he takes his head off
-then they won’t leave him the fuck alone about it and will often take pieces of him while he chases them around for them back.
-his babies get their own spot on the show and it fucking adorable watching toddlers dance to circus music with face paint they insisted they do themselves
-best dad buggy 100%
#x reader#one piece#reader is black#one piece live action#i don't care he's hot#headcannons#one piece x reader#opla#hes so hot#opla luffy x reader#one piece zoro x reader#nami x reader#opla usopp x reader#opla sanji x reader#opla shanks x reader#opla mihawk x reader#opla buggy x reader#Mother’s Day headcannon
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dad ghost and ucle soap doing something for me so what if their adopted (read :kidnapped) kid secretly a mermaid?
— Yandere Dad! Ghost and Uncle! Soap with a mermaid kiddo
Warnings: yandere behavior, fantasy AU, and all Platonic!
A/N: This was fun to write! Enjoy!
It’s hard to keep this secret, no? Being a whole different species and forced to hide your ‘real-self’ is a pain, and once these two find out, they’re flabbergasted; looking at each other with wide eyes. And once, in their lives, they have no idea what to do. A good ‘welp…’ coming out of Johnny as Dad! Ghost stands there, unsure what to do or how to properly respond to the situation.
Despite their surprised state, they quickly adapt — equally getting fascinated, and wondering how the hell you’ve hidden this for so long, without anybody knowing.
Within a span of a couple of days, they educate themselves on you and your sea life. Buying books, reading internet articles, and sharing their own questions with you. They even go in depth about what your diet is, how your body works, if there’s any more mermaids like you, or if you eat fish. Of course, Uncle! Soap asks if you’re a siren, there are a lot of common traits in both of them, and honestly asks if you can sing.
Despite your obvious need for water for survival, they both understand the phrase, “clean water”, and they both work on getting an enormous pool built just for you. Even if the cabin of a house is built deep in the mountains, you have a large pathway to a lake that they own; a sum of water that’s clean, and deep enough to discover minerals and kelp.
They enjoy watching you swim, smiling at your happy state, and whilst Dad! Ghost won’t join you in the water, rather watching from afar as he reads on files or such. But as for, Uncle! Soap, he will literally cannonball himself into the water.
Opposed to your lovely uncle, he’s quite touchy and loves to touch your tail. Of course, he won’t touch it if he sees you annoyed, or if you say no. But, when he gets the chance, he likes to admire the different shapes, scales, colors, and weight of your fins.
As for Dad! Ghost, he’s oddly attentive to you. Whilst you know your body better than anybody else, he still tries to care for you. He goes out of his way to buy you special cream to keep your tail moisturized, ensure you’re hydrated enough, and keeping your gills healthy; looking for any tears or wounds of any kind.
Uncle! Soap can be a menace with his teasing, and when you’re being snarky or breaking a few rules, he’ll joke that he’ll make sushi outta your tail. Of course, Ghost hits him in the back of the head. But he wouldn’t do that… would he?
They both work together — very hardly — to ensure the government doesn’t find out about you. They know what it’s capable of, people kidnapping you and poking you with needles to find out more information; keeping you captive like a pet. And they’ve both promised, as your guardians, that nothing like that will ever happen whilst they’re breathing.
And because of that, they will execute any type of threats possible. If they see your friends getting suspicious, one day they randomly ‘disappear’. Any type of adults asking specific questions, or why you like the water so much, are found dead on the news.
They both understand how much water means to you, which at times, Uncle! Soap sometimes suggests moving, and building a house near the salty sea; a place where you’re visibly comfortable and feel like you belong. He might even recommend taking a few trips back to Scotland a few times a year, letting you swim in the large lakes.
—
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© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
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They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.
He sees Eddie sometimes.
Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.
Now he looks bloodthirsty.
Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.
Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.
They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.
Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.
They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.
Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.
Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.
Really fucking weird.
The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.
“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.
So it’s February fourteenth… But —
“How old am I?” Steve asks.
“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.
Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.
Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.
“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”
“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”
“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”
“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”
None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.
Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.
It’s not hard to guess what happens there.
“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”
He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.
“I will see what we can do.”
And then he‘s gone.
Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.
It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.
On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.
So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.
He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.
He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.
The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.
They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.
Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.
The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.
They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.
Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.
I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.
The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.
“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”
Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.
The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.
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#this is the first chapter so go on to chapter 2#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#vampire steddie#vampires#my fics#eddie munson#vampire eddie munson#vampire steve harrington
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summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)
cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds
wc: 2.5k
block & move on if uncomfortable,
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You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.
Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.
You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.
Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.
They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.
“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”
Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.
You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.
Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.
“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”
Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.
“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”
Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.
“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.
“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.
They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.
“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.
He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.
Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.
You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”
You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.
Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.
A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.
Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.
The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.
You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.
“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.
You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.
Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.
Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.
It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.
The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.
No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.
The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.
Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.
You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.
“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”
Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.
You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.
You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.
Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.
“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”
You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.
The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.
For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.
“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”
“But father-“
“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”
“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”
“Don’t start with me, Paul.”
All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.
#dune#dune x you#dune x reader#dune smut#dune fanfiction#dune fic#leto atreides#leto atreides x you#leto atreides x reader#leto x reader#leto x you#paul atreides#paul atreides x you#paul atreides x reader#oscar isaac#timothee chalamet#oscar isaac x you#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac fanfiction#oscar isaac smut#oscar isaac characters#yandere themes#⚰️.deaddove#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet x you#timothee x reader#timothee x you#tw dubcon#tw dark content
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Hi, how are you?? Would it be alright to request a drabble where Daryl and his partner keep trying to have some alone time between their jobs in the Commonwealth but keep getting interrupted by Judith, RJ and Dog? And when things get hot and heavy at night, one of the kids has a nightmare and wants to sleep in their bed?
Thank you and take care lovely <3
DarylxFem!Reader
warnings: p in v, poorly written smut.
this is something I think about a lot, tysm for the request!!
You’d settled into the commonwealth now. In the beginning, it was difficult, you had grown so accustomed to hilltop and being surrounded by people you already knew, and most of all, you were used to being with Daryl all the time.
Things were different now, Daryl had some big important job that didn’t leave him much alone time, he was surrounded by dumbasses all the time and if you knew Daryl then you knew how much he struggled to push through the days sometimes.
You’re job wasn’t as big as Daryl’s but it was important to you because it helped you feel like part of the community. You worked in the ice cream truck and you loved it, it wasn’t a demanding job, it was simply just scooping ice cream and seeing the smiles on the kids faces when you handed it to them. Daryl had described it as ‘the perfect job for you’. He knew you were capable of so much more but he also knew that his girl deserved a break and he’d be damned if he took your little ice cream job away from you, there was no need to overexert yourself now you were here, so he was just glad you were enjoying yourself, even if he didn’t particularly have the best time at his own job.
You were the one to pick the kids up from school whilst Daryl was the one who ushered the two Grimes’ to get ready quickly in the mornings, since he had to get up early anyways. Daryl rarely got any days off and it was showing, he was becoming short with people, not being hurtful or rude but he was just exhausted and quite frankly just wanted to sleep as soon as he got home which left very little time for the two of you but you understood.
One morning, you woke up from Daryl planting a soft kiss on your forehead. Opening your eyes and staring at him, you were confused. He wasn’t in his gear or in his black attire, he was just wearing his worn black jeans and button down with his leather vest.
“Mornin’, darlin’” he swiped some hair off your face.
Your eyebrows furrow, “why aren’t you- why are you still here?”
Daryl scoffed with a smirk.
“Ouch…” he chuckles, “ain’t got work today, gotta day off to spend wit’ ya”
Instantly, a grin took over your face, reaching your arms out to your partner which he gladly took in his calloused hands and pulled you to sit upright.
“Want ya to get ready… gon’ be just me n you today, okay?”.
God, you love him so much!
“Okay…” you reply with a soft giggle.
Halfway through your shower, you feel a sudden surge of panic.
You rush out of the bathroom to find Daryl sat at the small table in the kitchen area.
“Daryl! Where are the kids?! It’s the weekend!”
Daryl looks up at you and nearly chokes on the water in his mouth when he sees you stood stark naked.
Then he stifles laughter.
“Christ girl… they’re with Carol. Ya really think id just lose em?” He raises his eyebrows and can’t help his eyes from darting between your chest and your face.
“Get back in the damn shower, been in there long enough anyways… hurry up”.
Ten minutes later, you’re dressed and ready to go… wherever Daryl plans on taking you.
Just as you leave the apartment complex, Daryl almost bumps straight into Carol, who was coming the opposite way with RJ in tow, looking teary-eyed.
“Daryl… I’m sorry, I know you had… plans, but RJ’s not feeling so hot and he just keeps asking for you”.
As RJ lets go of Carol’s hand and quickly latches on to Daryl’s, you can hear Daryl sigh.
“Nah… s’alrigh’… thanks Carol”, Daryl ruffles RJ’s hair and then turns back towards the apartment complex, walking in without another word.
Lord knows he’s pissed off, not at RJ, but just at the world but… what’s new?
Once inside, you tell Daryl to go sit down whilst you deal with RJ, tucking him in and giving him some medicine. After he’s all snuggled, you tell him to shout if he needs anything and then you shut the door, making your way to Daryl.
He’s sat in the same chair as earlier, he looks up at you as you stand beside him.
Cupping his face, you lean down to kiss his cheek, “its okay, we can still spend time together inside…”
Daryl forces a smile and nods, you’re always the positive one and he loves you for that but he wanted to do something nice with you today.
You spend the rest of the day taking care of RJ and playing a real old, shitty board game with Daryl (who doesn’t play by the rules) until Judith came home from being Carol’s care all day.
You and Daryl do your job as make shift parents, getting the kids to bed and then the two of you go to bed together. Daryl holds you protectively against his chest and you can sense he’s upset with how the day panned out. And, just to top it off, dog decided to bark at a bird through the window at one AM, causing the entire family to wake up. You offer to be the one to get up, close the damn curtains and get the kids settled again but Daryl being Daryl, is stubborn as hell.
“Shhh... Just go back to sleep, I got it”
You groan inwardly, knowing that your man will be grouchy the next morning.
And boy were you right.
Not being able to treat you to a nice day was pissing Daryl off to high heavens, but that mixed with three hours sleep after having to get two children back to sleep and a dog to stop barking, was a recipe for disaster.
Your man was running himself into the ground and you knew that if you didn’t do something soon, he’d get overwhelmed and most likely have some sort of mental break down. There’s only so much the great loverboy Daryl Dixon can take!
A few days later, you’d managed to work your magic.
Daryl had the afternoon off and the kids both had sleepovers to attend.
And so did you and Daryl.
Daryl got off from work at two, bursting through the door and practically ripping his gear off. He was stressed.
As soon as he sees you, he walks over to you but just stands in front of you, no advances.
As you look over his face, you notice he looks about ready to cry, so you squeeze his biceps then rub his shoulders, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.
His strong hands wrap around your waist and pull you closer, deepening the kiss. He starts to guide you backwards until the back of your knees hit the mattress and your fall onto your back.
Daryl practically growls, he’s HUNGRY and it visible in his eyes.
He lifts you to the centre of the mattress, leaning over you and kissing at your neck, sucking and nibbling as you emit desperate whimpers, you’re both just as needy as each other.
Daryl wants to kiss every part of you but he’s already painfully hard in the confines of his trousers and he’s so fucking pent up he’s afraid that if he keeps up the foreplay, he won’t last much longer.
Standing on his knees, he undoes his pants, pulling them down swiftly, along with his boxers, his impressive length springing free, his tip producing a fat bead of precum.
“Bend over.” Is all he says.
You do as you’re told, of course, getting onto your hands and knees, arching your back and pushing your ass out for your man.
Grabbing the skirt of your dress, he pushes it up to your shoulder blades, making sure its out the way.
He spreads your soft ass cheeks with his calloused hands, running his thumb over the wet spot on your panties.
“Such a good, fucking girl fer me, aint ya?”
You whine as a reply and then he’s pulling your panties to the side, running his thumb through your wet slit then stopping to massage at your clit.
“Please…”, you whimper out.
His hand leaves your pussy, gripping at the base of his cock and guiding it to your folds, pushing in without another warning.
“Fu-uuck… so fucking tight y/n…”
Daryl holds your hips in a grip like a vice, pounding into you from behind whilst he grunts with each thrust. He leans down to kiss your back, his hands leaving your hips to slide up the front of your dress, squeeing your tits.
Daryl’s grunts turn into whimpers as he gets close, but then you both hear the front door open, followed my a chirp voice.
“Uncle Daryl, Aunt y/n…?” Judith’s steps can be heard coming towards the bedroom as she searches for the both of you.
“Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me”, Daryl quickly pulls out, throwing a blanket over you and then roughly pulling up his pants.
“Aye, Jude just- just wait out there, kid!”
So she does, and when Daryl exits the room he’s met with a knowingly raised eyebrow.
“Don’t gimme that, ya ain’t s’posed to be ‘ere”
“I had a nightmare… I wanted to come home”
Daryl expression softens.
“Ya walked back here by yerself, in the dark?”
Judith nods, clearly a little shaken. “Can I sleep in your guys’ bed? Please?”
Daryl sighs but ultimately gives in, making sure you’re decent before leading Jude in.
Daryl was not happy that Judith had walked home by herself in the dark, not telling the adults she was with, but he was less happy about the fact he left you hanging.
But that would have to be solved another time, now Daryl had lost all horniness… almost being walked in on by your ‘kid’ does that to a man, specially when the plant themselves right in the middle of you and your girl.
Judith fell asleep pretty fast between the two of you.
You reached across the sleeping child to squeeze Daryl’s hand, whispering a meaningful “I love you”.
Sure, Daryl was a little down that he couldn’t love on his girl like he wanted to but boy was he lucky, and he was smart enough to see that. He was grateful for his little family, so he returned the gesture.
“Love ya too, baby”
“Ssssshhh!”
You and Daryl scoffed at Judith’s demand, but followed suit, falling asleep eventually.
God this felt so rushed! Alsooooo I struggle so much with tense so I’m sorry about that lmfao.
#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x reader#norman reedus#daryl dixon smut#daryl smut#twd smut
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Masters of the Air Fanfiction
Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding
Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)
Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”
Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy
Word count: 10k
“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”
“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.
“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.
12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.
“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”
“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”
Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.
“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”
“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”
“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.
“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.
“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”
“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.
John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”
“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”
“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”
“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”
“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.
“Go on?”
“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”
“That’s your ultimatum?”
“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”
Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.
After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.
Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.
So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.
Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”
It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.
Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.
But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—
“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.
Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.
Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.
He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.
“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.
“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”
He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.
“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.
Do you know? He wants to ask.
“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.
It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.
It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.
“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.
She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.
“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”
Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-
“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”
“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.
“In on what?” Her face falls.
He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.
“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”
What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.
The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.
“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.
“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”
So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.
He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.
As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.
Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.
By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.
It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.
The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.
Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.
He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.
“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.
Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”
“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.
“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.
Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-
She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.
“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.
“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.
“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”
Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.
They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.
“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.
“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”
“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”
“I have lied before.” he balked.
The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.
“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.
“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“
“Stop.” he begged.
“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”
“I did it for you!”
“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.
“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.
“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.
“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“
She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.
“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.
“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.
“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.
“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“
“-Ensign!-“
“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”
Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.
“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”
“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.
“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”
“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“
“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”
Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”
“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.
“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”
“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.
“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.
“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.
“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.
“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.
“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”
“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”
“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.
If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.
She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.
A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.
Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.
Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.
She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.
When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.
“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”
“Do it.” he let out with a wince.
“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”
Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.
“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.
“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”
“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”
“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.
“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.
Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.
He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.
“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.
She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”
Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.
“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”
Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.
Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.
He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.
“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.
“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.
Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.
Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.
“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“
Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.
“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.
“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”
It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.
“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.
“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”
It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.
She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.
“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.
Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.
“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.
“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.
“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.
The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.
No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.
Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.
She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.
“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.
“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.
“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.
“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.
“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.
“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.
“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.
She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.
“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.
“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.
“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”
She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.
“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”
“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.
“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”
“Sure, Maureen.”
“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.
“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.
She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.
“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.
“What baby?” she pulled off him.
“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.
Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.
He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.
“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.
“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.
“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.
“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”
“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.
“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”
“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.
“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”
“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.
He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.
“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”
Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.
Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.
“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.
Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”
“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.
“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”
He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”
“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.
Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.
His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.
“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.
Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”
“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.
“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.
Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.
“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”
“Huh.”
“Pretty common.” she assured.
“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.
“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.
“Move?” he was perplexed.
“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”
“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”
Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”
“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”
“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.
“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.
“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“
-a shudder from him.
“and a clever tongue-“
-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.
“-or a tool this capable.”
“Maureen.” he groaned.
“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”
Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.
“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.
“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.
Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.
“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”
“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.
“Are you -?”
“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”
“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”
“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”
“What?”
“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”
“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.
“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”
“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.
“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”
“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.
“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”
“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.
“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“
“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.
“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”
“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.
When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.
“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.
“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.
Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.
“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”
Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.
MOTA taglist, I only have one so please ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for. 🤓 :
@stylespresleyhearted
@ab4eva
@earth-to-lottie
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#masters of the air#mota#mota fanfic#mota fanfiction#masters of the air fanfiction#the pacific#friends in the crucible#mota smut#gale cleven x oc#gale cleven#gale cleven x john egan#hints of at least#Gale x Maureen#Gale Cleven fanfic#austin butler#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler smut#austin butler imagine
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i don’t go into it explicitly in my essay so i may as well cite my armamentarium of examples here. please note that some of these examples will be pretty uncharitable towards zuko, but i figure that zuko’s actions receive enough (overly) charitable interpretations that he can stand to be criticized harshly from time to time.
when he said to aang “nice try avatar, but these little girls won’t save you,” he was being overtly infantilizing and dismissive to extremely capable girls his age in a way that emphasized their gender to diminish their capabilities. this is quite overtly misogynistic.
the way he treats katara in “the waterbending scroll” is pretty fucked up. i know that a lot of people find the way he seductively circles katara after tying her to a tree, threatening, and bribing her to be hot and even romantic, but in this scene, he is explicitly imitating ozai (we see him employ this same tactic of circling ominously with zuko in “the awakening”) to scare katara into submission. this is not only sexist in the sense that he is attempting sensuality to threaten a young girl (only a few years younger than him, but still, not great), but also just creepy and horrifying and bad in general.
“well aren’t you a big girl now?” is what he says to katara once she can finally hold her own against him in a fight. katara is only a few years younger than him, but he treats her like an incapable child, and uses that patronizing infantilisation to taunt her like he did with the kyoshi warriors. (and in fact, he continues to do so in book 3, but more on that later.)
zuko shouts “girls are crazy!” after azula manipulates him into falling into the fountain. i think this example is pretty negligible all things considered, seeing as a couple of girls did just deviously orchestrate a plot to humiliate him for kicks, but it’s at least equivalent to sokka saying “leave it to a girl to screw things up” to katara in terms of making unfair generalizations about an entire gender in the quest to insult your annoying little sister. but pretty much every sibling says something like this as a kid, so it’s pretty innocuous to me in the scheme of things.
on his date with jin, zuko remarks “you have quite an appetite for a girl.” this is obviously sexist, but it also makes me sad for what it reflects about the eating habits of every single woman he grew up around (compounded by the fact that they’re nobility and thus must adhere to strict gender roles as informed by class). i wonder if seeing jin eat was the first time he ever saw a girl actually enjoy her food.
zuko’s treatment of mai throughout all of book 3 is highly misogynistic. he expects her to coddle, comfort, and support him unconditionally while he never once considers her feelings, desires, or thoughts. i don’t even think zuko knows that mai is a human being (with a rich inner world of her own). at the beach, he behaves in a way that is controlling, jealous, volatile, and borderline abusive. he insults her, calling her dull and unfeeling; he polices the people she talks to; he feels entitled to her unconditional affection even when he treats her terribly. even when he gives her the conch shell, he asks “what? don’t girls like stuff like this?” which is incredibly patronizing and presumptuous. he demands that she act as his perfect mommygirlfriend, takes out all his frustrations and inner turmoil on her, is entirely thoughtless and inconsiderate when it comes to considering her feelings beyond giving her the most shallow, superficial gifts (and for a prince, giving someone cheap desserts and/or beach trash is not exactly a grand romantic gesture), and can’t even bring himself to break up with her face to face. mai does an incredible job of supporting zuko as best she can despite being incredibly unhappy herself and frustrated by his behavior, and somehow she is still framed by the fandom as being a bad girlfriend to zuko, when in fact the reverse is true.
zuko is also incredibly patronizing, dismissive, and downright cruel to ty lee. he basically calls her shallow, stupid, oblivious, and myopic, when of course this only betrays his own obtuse inability to read others, as ty lee is quite possibly the most perceptive, intuitive, socially clever, skilled, and brilliant character in the show. like many other characters in the show, including azula, zuko falls for ty lee’s bubbly ditz persona, and assumes that her hyperfeminine affect signifies her shallowness and stupidity. this undervaluing of femininity is of course not unique to zuko, and even the most feminist women are prone to make assumptions about people who present themselves in the way ty lee does (even katara says that ty lee doesn’t seem like a threat), which is of course also why ty lee deliberately presents herself in this way. she knows that she will be underestimated, which is all the more imperative to achieving her primary goal: survival. however, just because ty lee encourages this perception of her doesn’t mean that zuko is let off the hook for falling for it, or for being cruel to her.
while i don’t fault zuko for this as much as i do his treatment of mai, katara, or ty lee, his lack of generosity towards azula is a problem. obviously there are extenuating factors informing why he views azula as a rival. their fractured relationship is a tragic product of ozai’s abuse, and neither zuko nor azula is entirely at fault for how they view and treat the other. but zuko never makes any attempt to understand his sister or why she behaves the way she does, and never shows her the affection or concern azula shows him (in rare but nonetheless important moments), even after she has clearly undergone a nervous breakdown before their final agni kai. i know that zuko would view azula with hostility and suspicion no matter what, and a lot of it is of course deserved, but i cannot help but wonder whether his misogyny serves to reinforce his assumption of her that she is a manipulative, hysterical, dishonest harpy whose sole purpose in life is to make him miserable. lol
zuko constantly dismisses suki throughout “the boiling rock.” when sokka first points her out, zuko frowns at the notion that sokka is suddenly going to give a girl the attention he has, up until this point, been the only one receiving. of course suki does monopolize sokka’s attention, suddenly making zuko the third wheel where he was formerly a partner, but it’s hardly suki’s fault for being sokka’s girlfriend. he only barely apologizes for burning down suki’s village (which is probably the worst thing he ever did in the entire show, btw), and basically ignores her existence throughout the rest of the episode. in “the southern raiders” he refuses to read the room and barges into sokka’s tent despite sokka and suki clearly having a romantic evening planned. suki is perfectly nice and friendly to zuko despite having absolutely no reason to forgive the guy who burned down her village, but zuko is nonetheless dismissive of her as if she isn’t even there. which is rude, but also, kind of funny, so take this one with a grain of salt because it honestly makes me laugh??
ultimately, the way zuko treats katara, not only in book 1, but up until they become friends at the end of “the southern raiders,” is genuinely egregious. despite having that incredibly meaningful moment in the catacombs together, zuko doesn’t register it as significant in the way katara does, and cannot comprehend why katara would feel particularly, personally betrayed by him compared to the rest of the group. at the beginning of the episode, zuko pushes suki out of the way from falling rocks (dismissively) and then jumps directly onto katara and rolls her away from the rocks (patronizingly) as if she is some kind of baby whose legs don’t work. when katara is rightfully pissed off that a guy she hates has pressed himself directly on top of her and won’t get off, he scoffs and says “I’ll take that as a thank you” as if she is simply a truculent, ungrateful child. he later completely invalidates katara’s feelings, following her after she leaves the group, and yells at her for her audacity (because she is still not best friends with the guy who betrayed her trust and facilitated the near murder of her best friend), and barely seems to understand the source of her rage, assuming that she is displacing her anger towards her mother’s killer onto him instead of simply acknowledging the ways in which he has tangibly harmed her. he interrupts sokka during one of the only truly happy moments in his entire miserable life to ask him to rehash the most tragic, horrific day in his whole horrifically tragic life, and in this moment he reveals that he somehow does not even know katara’s name. until sokka refers to katara by name, zuko only refers to her as “your sister” (and at no point refers to her by name throughout the show until later in this scene), dismissing katara while simultaneously begging for her approval, which he admits he doesn’t even know why he craves, as if he doesn’t even respect her as a person but simply wants her approval because her totally valid anger towards him is just a pesky irritant he wants removed. he then imposes his own desire for revenge onto katara, not even realizing that his passionate fury is a product of his own personal feelings being displaced onto katara’s parallel situation (both their mothers were killed in their place as a sacrifice), and simply assumes that katara would benefit from going on a dangerous revenge quest with him. it is only once zuko realizes the sheer extent of katara’s power and empathizes intimately with her complex feelings of rage, grief, and guilt regarding her own mother that zuko comes to respect katara deeply, and from then on out their friendship is one of mutual respect, understanding, and a deep, prevailing love. but until the antepenultimate episode of the entire show (assuming that the four parter finale counts as just one episode), zuko constantly infantilizes, patronizes, dismisses, belittles, ignores, and trivializes katara.
“zuko has no frame of reference for sexism” his uncle literally sexually harassed (and possibly even assaulted depending on how you define it) a female employee on the job (june in “bato of the water tribe,” if you’re wondering). yes zuko is rightfully appalled by that, but mostly because his uncle is displaying desire for a far younger, hotter woman, and zuko finds all displays of iroh’s desire disgusting. to say he’s in no way familiar with patriarchal logic and the mistreatment of women in society is just plain absurd, when not only do we see him mistreat women, but we also witness him witness other men mistreat women—in particular, a man whom he admires and strives to emulate in all aspects of his life.
and finally, while this point is fairly obvious, the question “how is zuko sexist?” is just patently ridiculous for the simple fact that he was raised in an extremely patriarchal society and internalized rigid roles and hierarchies of class, race, and gender. so like, even if we didn’t have manifold examples of him behaving misogynistically in various ways across the show, he’d nonetheless be sexist because of course he is. like, real talk, what do you guys think sexism even is if not being informed by patriarchy and its assumptions? answer quickly
#katuko shippers are gonna come for my throat rn i know this…..#whatever . it needed to be said -_-#id in alt text#itdoesntmatter-21#asks#not really but like. tagging it anyway#analysis#zuko#katara#suki#ty lee#mai#azula#jin#iroh#june#sokka#katara&zuko#tylee&zuko#suki&zuko#iroh&zuko#azula&zuko#and of course#mai&zuko#society if zuko realized that he was gay BEFORE dating mai so she didn’t have to put up with all of that 😭😭😭😭😭#the way he treats suki is deeply unjust ofc but also just kind of funny to me im sorry#he’s so mad her for being sokka’s gf he’s like why CANT I BE SOKKAS GF???? HUH??????#just goes to show that homos aren’t exempt from misogyny#hence why he is the saionji of atla. btw#(does that make mai anthy? i accept this tbh)
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Lower Lifeforms
Someone has broken into The Batcave. They don’t know how, but suddenly two lifeforms were detected in the middle of the Batmobiles runway. Lifeforms, Tim noted, not humans. They all rushed into the cave, and were met with two Damian’s.
They could tell who their Damian was by the Robin costume so not a shapeshifter, but he was wearing a black suit with white gloves, boots and cape with a pulled down hood. His hair took the form of a flame, and his eyes were glowing red. Despite this his facial features were identical to Damian’s, even the scowl directed at them looked to be pulled right off of Damian’s face.
He heard Jason shout and turned to see a girl, also identical to Damian and more so with the other one, fighting Jason and Dick at the same time. She was wearing a suit similar to the other, just the top was cropped and half was white and the other half black. Tim joined the fray, but they were quickly defeated. Ice was wrapped around their arms and legs, and Damian was already iced to the floor. The girl whooped and jumped over them playfully.
“Great,” he heard Jason mutter, “more demon brats.” The girl paused and turned, as did the boy. They tilted their heads in sync, the boy looking far more annoyed and the girl amused. “‘Demon brat’,” she repeated thoughtfully, “Is that a new slur humans are callin us?” The boy scoffed so much like Damian and walked towards the Batcomputer. “Wouldn’t surprise me.” He turned towards them and glared.
“It’s just as uncreative as the other ones.” He turned back to the Batcomputer and started typing. Ok, Tim thought, let’s recap. There were two kids who looked identical to Damian in the Batcave. These kids were a different species that had interacted with humans before, and all these interactions had been bad enough and gone on long enough that there were human slurs for their species. These Damian-lookalikes wanted information on all the meta laws and extraterrestrial species laws in place on earth, from what he could see the boy looking up on the Batcomputer.
“It’s not! Really it’s not! It’s just that—“ Dick didn’t get to continue. The ice around his arms extended to cover his mouth, stopping just below his nose. The same happened to them. “Hey!” The girl whined, “I wanted to hear what he’d say!” The boy scoffed. “Humans don’t have anything good to say about us, so I don’t understand why you always want to hear them talk.” The girl huffed and went to the boys side.
“It’s history! We can put it in the books ‘humans called us this for this reason, and it meant this’,” she mimed reading from a book, and the boy huffed. “We already know why they call us names. It’s not any important as the other ones.” It was silent as he typed quickly, and more information came up. Earths relationship with the Martians, the Tamaraneans, Kryptonions, magic users and ultraterrestrials. So they were from off planet.
“What if they’re nice?” The girl asked, and the boy sighed. “Have you ever met a nice human?” The girl answered no. “Have you ever heard of a nice human?” The girl thought, then answered no. “Has any human even pretended to be nice to you?” The girl answered no again. “Humans aren’t capable of being what we know as ‘nice’ or ‘kind’; kindness is a form of higher cognitive ability and empathy, something human brains haven’t developed over the hundreds of years they’ve had the chances to. What they instead developed is a higher level of aggression.”
The boy touched screen, and the Batcomputer glitched as something green spread into the boys hand. He pulled his hand away, and turned towards them. The ice around their mouths and Damian melted away, leaving no water behind. “What are you?” Damian hissed, and was easily knocked to the ground. “If you hate us so much, why not kill us?” The boys scoffed and leaned in close.
“Because we are better than you. The only thing humans see as an answer is war, is blood and death. We’re capable of more than the senseless violence you’ve built your societies on.” He stood smoothly and walked down the way they’d appeared. “Da⃠nella,” he called, “let’s go.” Da⃠nella waved and the rest of the ice melted, and they scrambled to follow.
The last they saw of Da⃠nella and the boy they were walking into a bright green portal.
#dan phantom redemption#dp x dc prompt#batfamily#dp x dc crossover#dan phantom#danielle phantom#Ghost are different species au#Ultraterrestrials au#If you want to continue this please do!
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Obey Me boys as dads
I won’t be doing Luke for obvious reasons and I won’t do Raphael and Mephistopheles either because I don’t really know them. Anyways, here are my headcanons on what the Obey Me boys would realistically be like as dads. No sugarcoating, no idealism, no fangirling, though other headcanons I have about them will come into play. I will theorize about what they would be like as dads based on their personality and relationships to each other. So without further ado, let’s begin:
warning: slight spoilers for Simeon
Lucifer
With Lucifer, it is pretty easy to imagine what he would be like as a father given he acts like a father towards his brothers. And in all honesty, he is downright abusive. His go-to method of punishment is hanging his brothers from the ceiling or threatening them to do horrible things to them like feeding them to Cerberus. Not to mention that, given he is the Avatar of Pride, he can’t admit he’s wrong.
If he had a child, Lucifer would treat them no different than his brothers, given he basically raised them, too. I do believe he would be able to teach his child well, but not without giving it mental health issues. He would give physical affection such as cuddles and kisses, and I do believe he would love his child like he loves his brothers. However, the child wouldn’t actually feel loved because he’s always being so harsh on it.
Mammon
Mammon would be a decent dad, though he would definitely teach the child how to steal. Given he is the punching bag of the family and gets the most shit from Lucifer, he would do everything in his power to protect his child from that treatment. I do think he would spoil his child with gifts and spend time with it by playing with them. He would also teach him all kinds of gambling games and take them to casinos once they’re old enough.
However, Mammon would be oblivious to obvious dangers for a child and underestimate a child’s stupidity. He’s the type to let the kid run over the kitchen counter and not think of the possibility it might fall, but he would also learn whenever his behavior was pointed out because he really wants to keep his child safe.
Leviathan
Leviathan would raise his child to be an otaku. He will teach it all about the Tale of the Seven Lords and all his favorite anime. He would be more of a buddy dad, not really good at teaching him life lessons because he can barely get his own shit together. If his child displays any interests he doesn’t share, he would find it difficult to engage in their hobby. He would probably self-loathe, thinking his child doesn’t love him or that he’s a terrible father.
Generally, he would constantly question his abilities as a father and spends many nights crying that he’s not good enough. But his child would genuinely feel loved, they might think their father is wimpy, but would never think of him as a bad father.
Satan
Satan would really struggle not lashing out at his child every five seconds. He’s the type of dad to get irritated whenever the kid asks for his help. He did not prepare for having to give his child 99% of his attention and gets frustrated that he can’t do the things that calm him down, like reading and petting cats. That causes him to lash out at his child more than necessary, which in turn makes the child fear their own father.
However, I can imagine that he becomes a better dad over time and bonds with his child by reading to them and taking them out to cat cafés. Still, he’s the Avatar of Wrath, and those anger issues don’t just go away.
Asmodeus
Surprisingly, Asmodeus would be a great dad. I imagine him being very fond of children. He loves their innocence and wants to protect it at all costs. While he is called narcissistic by the game itself, he isn’t actually narcissistic. He’s vain and openly loves himself, but that’s not the same as being a narcissist. Asmodeus is capable of loving others, such as his brothers, Solomon and MC.
Asmodeus would shower his children with affection and will never miss a chance to tell them how much he loves them with hugs and kisses. Also he would definitely have the most children because… lust. I don’t think he would play favorites, he would try to treat them all equally. He would not accept self-loathing, he wouldn’t want any of his children to suffer any kind of depression or body dysmorphia as he’s been through that himself. He would strictly keep his sin away from them, though once they reach the age he would be the best out of all the brothers to have the birds and the bees talk.
Beelzebub
Beel would also be a wonderful dad. He would definitely make sure his child is well-fed and exercise with them as soon as they can. He would constantly look out for his child, his biggest fear being something happening to it. He would definitely have some war flashbacks, thinking about how he failed to protect Lillith and desperately wants to make sure he doesn’t repeat his mistake.
Beel would also make sure to attend every game or school event his child has. He wouldn’t even let his gluttony control him enough to miss that.
Belphegor
Honestly, I think Belphie would lowkey not want any children. To him they’re a hassle and too much work for the Avatar of Sloth. If he did end up having a child, he wouldn’t be doing any of the hard work. No changing diapers or feeding them, and gosh someone get them to shut up so he can sleep. He’ll probably get earmuffs so he doesn’t have to listen to the screaming.
Belphie would spend time with his child when he’s in the mood, mostly teaching it mischief to annoy Lucifer. He would also come to enjoy napping with the child once he realizes they sleep well when he’s with them.
Diavolo
Diavolo is the chaotic, but often absent dad given he’s the future king of the Devildom. He wouldn’t have much time for his child because of his duties, so the child would mostly grow up with nannies. However, whenever Diavolo has time, he will use it to give his child the best time possible. He would take it to all kinds of amusement parks, fun fairs and other events and give them all the toys they want as a way to make up for his lack of presence.
Diavolo would also be pretty irresponsible, like Mammon he would underestimate the dangers certain activities pose for a child. but unlike Mammon, he wouldn’t learn from his mistakes, thinking it’s fine as long as nothing happens. And even if something happens, he would be like “Welp, better be careful next time” instead of not letting a next time happen.
Barbatos
Barbatos would be an emotionally distanced dad. He would not be absent, in fact he would carry his child around everywhere because he believes nobody could look out better for his child than himself. Given he’s a timelord, he would also want to monitor them in case they inherited his power, so that they don’t tear apart time and space.
Given his stoic personality, he wouldn’t be good with showing his emotions and showing how much he loves his child. However, he shows them by baking with them, letting him help with his chores and teaching them. His punishments are harsh, but not as over the top as Lucifer’s and he would never even threaten to hurt his child.
Simeon
Simeon is basically a dad to Luke already, though I don’t think either of them think of it that way. Unsurprisingly, he’s the religious dad, and there’s a chance he unintentionally gives his child the same religious trauma he suffers from himself. He’s a good but strict teacher, seeing how he lets Luke find answers to certain questions, which I believe is a good approach to teach independence and problem solving skills. He’s the type who helps his child through emotional turmoil through rational solutions, trying to teach them the “proper” way he himself has strayed from, and he paid the price.
Simeon was demoted from a seraph to an archangel for defending the brothers during the Great Celestial War, and later to a human for stealing the Ring of Light. He believes he has strayed from the right path and wants to set things right by making sure the same doesn’t happen to his child, but in the process of doing that he unintentionally gives them religious trauma, which might cause them to fall from grace even harder than himself.
Solomon
Don’t give this man a child. The child would probably die of food poisoning before it can walk.
If you'd like to see this for twisted wonderland or enstars, let me know.
#obey me#obey me headcanons#headcanon#obey me solomon#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#dad headcanons#obey me shall we date#obey me nightbringer#obey me fanfic
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