#this is such a quick little moment but it's so nice
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HOW THEY E4T YOU OUT !
feature: choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toji
content: 3.3k+ wc — pssy eatin, spnking, degradation, sqrting [request are always open] mdni + not proofread
CHOSO KAMO ꔫ
Devours you every chance he gets as if he’s going to die if he doesn't.
His eyes were tired and his back was slumped when he arrived home like usual. On the days when he needs to leave for work and return once more, his muscle memory always searches for you before anything else.
He came in, forgot to take off his shoes, his phone in hand and an exhausted look on his face.
“Bad day Cho’?” you asked.
“M’just tired.” He hummed out.
“Aww i’m sorry Cho’ how can I make you feel better?”
“Can I see her?”
୨୧
“Mmngh can never get enough of your pretty pussy, baby— please.. she’s sho’ mghn delicious..”
Choso is a man who makes you tremble while he cries as he proceeds to eat your soul out. A man who cums in his pants just by looking at your pussy as if it were his first time seeing it. Because he doesn’t want to do anything but eat your pussy and make you feel good.
It was over the moment you allowed this man to taste you. His only desire now—was to have his face permanently pressed into your folds.
Choso keeps his face inside your pussy as if he were scuba diving, fuck the goggles. He thinks eating you out only ended successfully based on how messy he was when he finished.
With both palms keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. Like there’s a reward beyond the coma inducing orgasm destined to be achieved for the both of you when he’s done. He wants to see your cunt in full view, and access to every nook and cranny possible.
He’s needy and messy, he’ll stuff his face like he lost his house keys in your cervix. And doesn’t see himself done until, your juices are soaking more than just the bedsheets. He aims to see the mixed cum and saliva dripping down his chin and far past his stomach.
He just can’t help it, he wants to make you feel so good he's a pussy pleaser.
“F-fuck baby mmnghm, am i doin’ ghud p-pretty?..” he whines, his eyes hazy and lusted as his tongue makes rounds on your clit. Sucking and mumbling with his mouth full.
“y-yes jus’ like that cho’ so good f’me mmm…” you struggle, your palms ruffling through his hair for support.
“S-so good..thank you–mnuh thank you..” He slobbers sweet nothings to himself as the thousands of taste buds on his tongue individually roam in and out of your folds. Leaving no bare of your skin un-sampled. Tasting everything there is to taste without fail.
“Uhng, cho’ r-right there m’so close..!”
Abusing your clit with ease as he promptly twists and prods his fingers out and back in. “you gonna come? n-not yet, m’ not done—keep going just a little more..baby pleashh~”
NANAMI KENTO ꔫ
Caresses you with one goal in mind, that is the satisfaction that comes with making you finish.
When you knocked on his door and made your way inside, he was in a virtual conference.
The mere sight of him making your pussy excruciatingly wet.
His arms were visibly exposed, and his sleeves were rolled up. His clothing appeared tighter, especially with the veins on his skin throbbing. The buttons on his shirt could have easily burst from the way they were begging to be undone.
He glanced at you and motioned silently for you to come sit on his knee while he muted his call.
"baby, what's wrong?" he asks, sliding a hand to your waist to hold you in place on his thigh.
“Nothinnn’ just miss you is all,” you lie, leaning down to give him a quick kiss to his temple.
“Is that so?” he questions, his glasses slipping down just enough to reveal his content eyes.
“Mhmm I reaaally missed you ken’”
"I can feel you rocking your weight on my thigh, so don't lie to me."
୨୧
“Sit on my face baby—let me take care of you”
Although Kento Nanami is always pent-up, he is able to maintain his composure. He can, has, and will keep going for hours. He will drop to his knees and encircle your thighs with his huge arms the moment you ask him to. With his face burying deeper into your cunt as if he were employed on a graveyard shift from 9 to 5.
After all, he's a gentleman, which means that he's hooked on seeing your body shake just by making out with your cunt. The boulder in his pants twitching with every lustful movement the scene in front of him causes.
He’d never stop until you finish, making sure you emptied all you had on his tongue, before he makes you do it again on his dick.
“Umngh– that feel good sweetheart?” He goes on, your shaky legs being forced apart by his grasp so they are unable to get in the way of his view.
“Mhmm–keep going ken’ feels soo good..” you moan.
Kentos a clit lover. He never concludes these sessions until your clit is puffy and your pussy is gaping from his fingers.
And every time you are at a loss for words, frantically seeking for something to cling onto, he leaves a mental note that makes you whimper when he does it again.
He stones both his middle and ring fingers inside of you despite never once letting go of that puffy clit he deems so tasty. He sucks, strokes, and makes out with your pussy like a natural.
He’s the type to have an area 51 lockdown on your thighs, the type to let you grab a fistful of his hair and let you ride his face at any tempo your little heart desires. His palms rubbing circles on the inside of your thighs—leading you to your final destination.
“You’re doing so good—that's it, make me taste how good im doing love...”
GOJO SATORU ꔫ
Loves the way you give up under his touch, fighting against the orgasm he’s gonna take from you.
“Satoru Gojo, knock it off..!” you huffed out. you had enough of him toying with you all day.
He asked to go with you on your errands and promised not to get in the way.
Yet he’s been teasing you all day, telling you how good he’s gonna fuck your brains out. Putting his hand on your thigh in the car, just to play coy and ‘accidentally’ slip a finger through the hems of your panties.
Even as you were trying to reach an agreement on a new game for you and him to play, he made attempts to grind your ass against him.
"Huuh? Satoru Gojo? Who’s that? M’names toru," he chuckles.
"We’re in public, Satoru. You’re being so annoying." you groan rolling your eyes at him, before moving on to the next row.
"Whattt, a man can’t love on his girlfriend nowadays?” he exaggerates, following immediately behind you, copying your steps.
୨୧
“P-Put it in already toru’…!” you whined.
“You weren't this eager for me earlier…” he gasped dramatically, kissing up your thigh, pulling your panties down in the opposite direction.
“Quit teasing Toru’ jus’ need you in me...”
“If you wan’ it inside, gotta show me how eager you are to cum on my face baby...”
You won't believe how sloppy and vulgar this man is when he's eating you out.
Your eyes will be drawn to the back of your head by him. He'll put his blindfold over your eyes and make you only able to see stars.
His thick and lengthy fingers have enough ability to take the wind right out of your lungs and reach farther than any toy could alone.
“Hah..c-can’t toru’,” struggling to catch your breath, you try to push his face away.
He’s a man who makes sure to pleasure you first. And makes you cum no less than twice on his tongue. He swallows everything he can, and makes you cum again if he didn’t get it all the first time.
"C'monnn baby—mmnm, know your pussy got another one in her, tell her to give it to me.." he laughs.
Satoru loves to watch your body unfold under him. He adores the way your throat reaches the highest octave you can afford to give. The way he pulls countless moans out of your throat, causing your voice to crack. He loves to hear how much your ‘can't take it toru’” fuel his ego just so he can get ready to show you just how much he’ll make you take it.
He finger fucks you like crazy. Maintaining the pad of his thumb on your clit while stuffing your cunt onto his fingers in a rhythmic motion. He never wastes time to put his mouth to work.
“Too much toru’ gonna squ—nghmm..!” you yelp, getting cut off by the way he scoots your ass closer to his face—allowing him to focus on the deep areas within your pussy, causing you to squirt then and there without the ability to stop.
“Good fuckin’ job baby–wouldve mmhp- brought an umbrella if I knew it was gonna rain today,”
“...”
GETO SUGURU ꔫ
He takes his time eating you out, he just wants to see how desperate you can get for him.
"You were moving so much, love. What's the matter? Had a nightmare?" Geto asks out to you.
Gaining consciousness slowly, you watch the strands of his hair fall, concealing his half open eyes, before he pushes them back over his head.
Initially he turned away from you in an attempt to cool down your side of the bed since he believed you could have been feeling too hot. But when you kept shuffling under the blankets, he decided to wake you up.
"Mmm, no, it was more like auhh..." you pause, pondering on what you’re going to say, sitting up to rest against the headboard of the bed.
"Like what?" he inquires, positioning himself to align with your stance.
"You know..." You feel a little ashamed at the thought, but you avoid his gaze until you hear his laugh fill the room.
“Aw my pretty girl havin’ wet dreams about me?”
Throwing a pillow at his face as you huff out, “It’s not funny Sugu’, I genuinely couldn’t sleep…!”
“Why don’t you show me what I did in your dream then, hm?”
୨୧
“Go on uhmngh, let’s make your dream come true–as much as your pretty mmh.. pussy desires,”
Geto wants to see how horny you really are for him. He adores nothing but to see how desperate you really are to get off.
“uhhuhnn r-right there baby..” your breath hitching, while you ride up and down his mouth.
He watches you mindlessly use him like you’re the one in control. He’ll let you fuck his fingers—your nails clenching the strands of his hair, undoing the bun he wrapped up prior.
He feels the way the heels of your feet are snug deep in his broad shoulders. And he doesn’t care, because all Geto can care about is the way you’re haphazardly slamming your pussy in his face without loss.
He’ll agree when you say you need a moment, only to slam you back down on his face when your movement starts to slow. He’ll latch around your waist with the fore of his arms, and shove himself deep between your thighs.
“Sugu’ mnghn—slow down p-please..!” Playing dumb on how your vindications for him slow down fall on stone-deaf ears.
“Mmmnghm you said faster? sure thing baby..” Smirking into your clit while he devours you—his grip only gets tighter, mocking the same way your fingers begin to tighten against his scalp.
“Mmmn sugu’…don’t stop…c-cummin’ nghh-guh!”
Geto damn near inhales your cunt at this point, giving himself no air as he breathes and digests everything that comes out of your pussy, emphasising the slurping noises his lips bring as they're mingled in your folds while you squirt in his mouth.
“Atta girl..Can’t sleep now though, might as well keep goin’ till sunrise.”
SUKUNA RYOMEN ꔫ
He wants to drain the thoughts from your mind and watch you falter under him.
“Why are you ignoring me?” you press, but get an annoyed sigh in response.
You’ve asked him to let you accompany him multiple times so you could watch him box-train, and while usually he says no–today he said yes as an excuse to show off his pretty fiancé. Yet, he was pissed when he watched a group of shirtless scumbags surrounding you with brags about their meager accomplishments.
He saw you giggling up a storm but you weren’t laughing because of him and that thought alone made his blood boil.
"I was just bein’ nice Kuna’, so I'm not sure why you have an attitude."
"Maybe it's caus' you wanna go around flirtin' with every guy in the damn gym." Sukuna scolds, pulling his duffel bag out to put away his gloves—rolling his eyes in advance as he slams his locker door.
"I did not try to flirt! They came up to me, asked about you and then the talk continued. A cordial discussion some might say," you joke.
“Oh yeah? What were they sayin’ then?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow at your remark, leaning against the locker doors, an action forbidding you to walk away.
୨୧
“t-they we’re just sayingnn t-that you..—you mghn!”
Sukuna either goes all out or doesn’t, and when it comes to you, going all out is just the tip of the iceberg.
He’s a man who hates getting dirty, but when it’s your cunt? You know it’s ate right when your mattress is stained through like a sponge.
“I-I what brat? Spit it out." he spites, making fun of your efforts to speak—his fingers breaking and entering you with ease.
Sukuna's cruel and wicked, if you will. He has your pussy leaking and accessible to him completely. Eating and finger fucking you enduringly.
The filthy squelches and slurps fill both your ears whilst he fingers you till your internal juices coats his fingertips.
“that you–hah…w-win lots mphm…K-kuna pleash..!..can’t breathe..please..” you begin to writhe beneath his lips, swallowing in shock at his ruthless touch.
You can tell him to let you breathe and that you can no longer cum, all you want, but he doesn't bother to listen.
The palms of his hand repeatedly make contact with your ass, torturing the skin below them and causing acute pain on your cheeks, leaving no place for pity.
“Yeah? s’that why you were gigglin’ and given fuck me eyes?”
He makes it his mission every time to eat you so good no matter what you do it’ll never be enough. He’ll make sure those half assed attempts to get off alone don’t result in a happy ending without him.
“Mmgnh n-no! I wasn’t–ah..promise–I p-promise k-kuna’ please it hurts..!”
“You wanna play bimbo while I’m trainin’, but actin’ all innocent when we’re alone?” he hisses.
With his tongue stretching deeper than any man could ever hope to, he gives himself the advantage to tongue-fuck you all over by moving his palms under your lower back, titling your pussy deeper on his face.
“N-no!...g– mmm g-gonna’ cum..! so—close kuna..”
He finds it amusing how sensitive you are. “mnnguh …cum brat—since that's all y’wanna be good for.”
“K-Kuna m-mmmngh—!...”
Only allowing you a few moments to return to consciousness before he's prepared to fold you again like an expert origami master at work.
“Who said I was done? Open your legs n’ give me another one whore.”
TOJI FUSHIGURO ꔫ
Wants to humiliate you as you squirm and watch him violate your folds.
Toji didn’t play when it came to his gym routine and to have you with him every night as his gym partner was even better. He said he would take care of it for you, when you looked into what to wear to the gym, and he did just that.
He got you a matching colored windbreaker and Nike biker shorts. He wasn't giving it any consideration at first, merely noting that it'd be more breathable.
Up until the moment he realised he was staring at your ass each time you got on the treadmill. Addicted to the way the material made your ass appear, as you passed by his station.
His cock tensed because of the way the dark velvety material flaunted every curve of your pussy when you moved.
Sensing you approaching him as he was finishing up a set on the weighted arm raises—he dwelled more on the way your ass seemed to converse with him while he watched you slip into his line of sight.
"Hmm?" he hums, completing his final rep. He goes to get a complimentary wipe from the cleaning station and walks back to wipe down the machine. Leaving it sanitised and ready for it’s next use.
“Toji baby, sorry to interrupt but can you spot me next?”
"Oh, I see," a sneer lifted on his scarred lips as he continues; "finally doin' it today huh?"
You put on a smile and take over his former position. “indeed, I decided to give some new workouts a go today! I’m pretty excited y’know?”
He nods, "there's no rush, jus’ go slow, lemme know if it's too much."
“Yeah yeah yeah…I got this [...] wait Toji, aren’t you supposed to be by my arms?”
୨୧
“Thought you were excited a minute ago, all that energy go to your pussy?”
Toji Fushiguro, experienced and tongue-talented. You'll be cruising to the finish line like a race car thanks to him. He takes good care of your pussy—forcing you to understand how much he will always know your pussy far more than you and anyone else could.
Especially how the tiniest of friction from him that causes your walls to spasm on his taste buds—confirmation in itself.
He’ll force you to keep your eyes open and watch—as he makes love with your cunt.
“Keep your eyes open doll— m’ tryna see them turn white”
“Hmmph! T-Toji…What if someone comes in?...ngh, ah—“
“The only one cummin’ is you,” he retaliates.
With his left hand, he pulls back both of your legs as he utilises his right. Your whole-body quivering amid him from his constant clit assaults.
He finger fucks you swifter than previously, and immediately senses your insides clenching around his fingers, forcing you with no choice but to be filled to the brim, and disoriented due to his tongue.
“The thought of you bein’ caught spread open on a weight bench got ya’ pussy pulsatin’ huh?”
“Mmngh a-absolutleey..not…!”
Studying as a wave of humiliation passes over your expression, he puts a couple harsh palms to your ass with a SMACK. Making the area sting over and over, as the air creeps to irritate the burn.
“Denyin’ with a straight face as if I can’t feel you smotherin’ my fingers? Fuckin’ slut,”
“M’ not a slu-ngh–! Toji’...mmmh”, whimpering—you reach for the edges of the weight bench looking desperate for support.
“Wan’..mmm wanna cum Toji…please,”
“You wanna cum?”
“Mmhm!—” you cry out, your voice wavering in response.
“Only sluts get to cum—mmmh, ptuih—but yer not one of em’ are ya’?” he tests you, spitting on your clit as though your sopping pussy hasn't already caused enough fluids to run down his throat.
“Mm–m’ n-not–nnmugh!"
“You know what I wanna hear ma’ say it.” he demands, adding another finger to the two, fucking you fuller.
“I-Im a s-slut toji…mgnhm a slut—a slut for you, please let me cummmngh!—” you babble out, not even sure if it's for him anymore; the words bring nothing but a warning to anyone who hears—unable to stop. Feeling yourself reach your limit against his tongue.
“So needy—mmngh cum like a good lil’ slut then,”
#@𝗕𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 . . 𝗡𝗢 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso smut#choso kamo smut#nanami smut#kento smut#kento nanami smut#kamo choso smut#fushiguro toji smut#gojo smut#geto smut#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna smut#gojo x reader#sukuna x reader#toji x reader#kento nanami x reader#gojo x female reader
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tuesday in the park (a.d.)
pairing: divorced!art x reader
synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.
warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk
notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!
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City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.
Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.
Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…
And then suddenly… another pattern.
A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.
You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.
It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!
But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.
You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?”
“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.
“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”
“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”
The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”
“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile. And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”
“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.
“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.
The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”
“Come on, Daddy…”
“No way.”
“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,
“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”
The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too.
“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”
He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.
He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”
You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.
He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”
It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.
He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”
You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.
(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)
“Thanks, um…” he trails off.
You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.
He nods. “I’m Art.”
He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,
“Nice to meet you, Art.”
He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved.
“So what brings you out here?”
“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”
“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”
He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”
And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”
You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”
“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”
The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an interpreter.”
His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”
“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.
“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”
“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”
“But not today?”
You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”
“Fuck.”
“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.
Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”
You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”
He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”
“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”
Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.
You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”
But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.
Oh.
You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”
Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”
There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.
“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…
“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered.
If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.
“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”
“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”
The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.
Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”
“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.
“Oh! Um…”
And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”
Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter, “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.
“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”
“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.
The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”
You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”
He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.
Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.
“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.
“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.
His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.
“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”
“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”
She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.
#art donaldson#divorced!art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#divorced!art x reader#art donaldson fluff#eeeeeeeee im so h-word physically and emotionally for him#ava writes#challengers fic
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reader and joost being on a picnic just eating fruit, fluff and reader being a master of making flowers crowns? :))
LOW NOISE
pairing . Joost Klein x gn!reader
content . reader can be seen as male or female aswell, just fluff and short
summary . reader and joost decide to go on a picnic before he leaves to canada.
word count 329 words, 1,8k characters
author's note . THIS IS A QUICK ONE WHILE IM WORKING ON OTHER STUFFF
Underneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree, Joost Klein and you sat on a cozy blanket, surrounded by the vibrant sky of a summer afternoon. A basket carrying fruit inside, the scent of ripe strawberries and juicy watermelon wafting through the air.
The two decided that it would be great to have a picnic date. Mainly because Joost was traveling to Canada and today was the last day before he had to go.
Joost grinned as he reached for a slice of mango, his laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the distance. You nimbled on some fresh sour grapes from the little vine, popping them into their mouth with a satisfied hum.
"This is perfect," Joost remarked, taking in the serene. "I'm glad we decided to have a picnic today." You nodded, a soft smile gracing their lips as they reached for a peach. "Me too. It's nice to just relax and enjoy the moment."
As he savored the sweetness of the fruit, your gaze drifted to a patch of wildflowers nearby. With a playful twinkle in your eyes, you reached for a few blossomed flowers, carefully weaving them together into a delicate crown. You did this by making a vertical hole in the long stem, proceeding to stick in another flower inside said hole.
"Check this out," they said, placing the flower crown atop Joost's head with grace.Joost chuckled, adjusting the crown, "Am I a king now?"
You laughed, their eyes amurged with amusement. "Of course, your majesty.” You playfully bow, which was quite awkward to do since you were sitting down.
Together, they shared a moment of lighthearted laugh, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over their picnic beneath the oak tree. “I'll miss you. You've been so busy lately,” You stop your sentence, “But I'm so, so proud of you.” You placed your hand on his cheek, wiping your thumb left and right. Joost stares at your eyes,
“I love you.”
QUICKLY WROTE THIS SORRY FIR NOT UPLOADING, i am working on let me think, all i have to say is that i am separating part 2 into 2 parts !!
#joost klein#joost klein fanfic#joost klein fanfiction#joost klein fluff#joost klein x reader#joost klein x you#joost x reader#joost klein x fem reader#joost klein x male reader#joost klein x gn reader#im sorry if it's trash
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Fully Charged
*ೃ༄ summary: Gojo can't wait for you to get home to give him release so he attempts to do it himself
warning(s): MDNI, masturbation, teensy bit of phone sex, explicit sexual content
pairing(s): gojo satoru/reader
w/c; 5k
a/n: another self indulgent fic. I just like thinking about Gojo jerking it and getting desperate...also reader's pronouns are not used, the only implication is the reader having a pussy lol. no use of y/n as well. enjoy!
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“Fuck me,” Satoru sighs when he gets passed the threshold of his front door. He kicks his shoes off, slides his blindfold down to let it sit around his neck, unzips his jacket and beelines straight to his livingroom.
Late into the night was when he finally got home from fighting off four special grades. Day after day this week he was sent on mission that led to another mission and so on and so forth. Three days he’d been away from home, out and about with not even a single moment for himself! He couldn’t even bring himself back any souvenirs, suffice to say the week just hadn’t been all that great. Worst of all— Satoru had a raging boner all day that needed attention.
It was almost embarrassing, walking around town when the pressure of your pants against your hard-on was the only thing you could feel. God, why was it the worst times when he had to get all worked up? He’s the strongest, it didn’t cause him that much turmoil. Satoru could flip a switch and ignore it for the time being, but once home, where he could finally give his Six Eyes a rest and set his ass down on the couch was when the need between his legs became an absolute nightmare to handle. To make matters worse, you were also away on business and you weren’t planning on coming back for another day or two. You had your own business to attend, which led to this very moment— a quiet home, dark and empty of anyone inhabiting it for almost a whole week. Satoru laid across the expanse of the couch and let his head fall backward against the arm rest, releasing a long sigh as the weight of the week finally began to slip off his shoulders like running water.
Running water. A shower would be nice. With a hup and a swift jump off the couch, Satoru was heading down the stairs of his home to the bathroom. He stripped as he began his descent, slipping off his socks first with little hops to keep his balance, shrugging off his jacket and letting it crumple to the floor. He unzipped his pants but reached a hand behind his head to pull his shirt clean off with a quick movement, flipping the light switch to the bathroom on and not bothering to close the door behind him. He shimmied out of his pants, flicked the shower on and finally reached for his underwear, letting his erection spring free. He let out a not so quiet moan at the feeling of the air hitting his hot skin. His eyes look up at the mirror to see his figure, the hot water already creating steam on the glass.
Satoru knew he was good looking, he knew he was hot as hell for that matter. He smiles at himself in the mirror, pointing at himself with finger guns and raises an arm to see the way his bicep flexes in the reflection. He chuckles to himself, his hand cupping around his clavicle, his eyes follow as he trails his own fingers down, his hand touches over the divot of his scar that was left right in the middle of his chest. His fingers move past it and he cups his own pec, the skin gives under his grip and he almost lets his eyes flutter shut to picture your hand instead of his. But he keeps an eye open to follow the natural path of muscle down, feeling the hills of his stomach, then past his belly button where coarse white hair began to grow and make a path down and down and—
Satoru lets out a sigh, watching the way his skin turns a shade of red in the hot, steamy room. His hand cups over his cock, gently wrapping his fingers around it and his jaw slacks open at just the slight touch. He watches himself in the mirror, his dick twitches in his hand and he doesn’t bite back a groan when he sees his tip bead with precum. God, if only you were here to get on your knees and open your mouth for him, wrap your pretty hands around him and take him down your throat just the way he liked. His chin falls against his chest when his hand grips his dick and he gives himself a good tug before taking a deep breath in and pulling away.
Not now. Shower. Then you can finally relieve yourself.
The beating water atop his skin doesn’t help his need for release. Sure, it soothed his aching shoulders and the way it trickled down and wrapped around him like a blanket of warmth had been comforting. But the water hitting his erection only had him bracing a hand on the wall of the shower and ducking his head under the shower head, fighting back more moans. Lathering himself up with soap only seemed to make it worse. With his skin sudsy and slick, he could easily jerk off right here. He had half the mind to when he had to clean between his legs, letting his fingers find his length again to spread the soap over the skin. His forehead presses into the shower wall and he resists the urge to thrust into his hand. The pleasure becoming all too much, his thighs tremble and his knees buckle when he fists his cock again and swipes his head, a mixture of precum and soap washes away with the water and down the drain.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice low and rough. He supports his weight on one leg and braces an arm over the wall, pushing himself back to quickly wash the rest of the soap off. His dick— still needy for attention, curves with it’s heavy weight and it twitches from time to time as Satoru washes his hair clean and finally steps out of the shower. He doesn’t bother grabbing a towel, insisting on air drying his body all except for the towel he placed atop his head. He shakes the water off the tips of his hair and rubs the remaining water off, flipping his head back out of the towel with a sigh of relief and ruffles his damp hair with his hand. He stumbles back up the stairs, stark naked and picks up the trail of clothes he left on his way back up to the living area. Droplets of water make a trail behind him and follow him down a hallway towards his shared bedroom with you.
The moonlight pools into the room and Satoru lets his shoulders slump, forgetting again that you weren’t home yet. Remnants of you lingered still, your clothes riddled over the floor, your pair of reading glasses on the bedside table, untouched for days including the book that rested across the surface. Your slippers neatly sitting beside each other on the floorboards at your side of the bed. Your scent, albeit barely there, still lingered and the smell sent a jolt of electricity throughout Satoru’s body. His hand clenched into a fist, tossing his clothes into a nearby hamper when his cock springs back to life and he lets out what seems to be a whimper. His skin, still damp, makes his senses heightened, his hair sticks on end and a shudder runs across his body when he takes in that scent of you. God, he missed you. He needed you. He needed to lay down and jerk o—
His stomach grumbles and he holds a hand over his tummy, doubling over in the sudden pain. Shit! Barely even ate today. All he had was the sweet hard candy he sucked on throughout the day to give him the energy to get through his one and final mission of the day. He couldn’t even think about food by the time he was finally free and heading back home. He trots back out the room, passes through the hallway again and into the living room. The open space connects to his kitchen and he grabs his phone from off the couch as he makes his way around the bar that separated the rooms and he opens up the fridge. Nothing. Barely anything except for a bento box nestled in the corner of the top shelf. He reaches for it, pulls it out and inspects it for a moment, he doesn’t remember making anything. There’s a sticky note with his name and a few hearts drawn around it, Satoru smiles when he realizes you had made him this. You must have known he’d be hungry when coming back home, you knew how much the higher ups stretched him thin when making him go on a week long mission to exorcize that many special grades.
Satoru opens the box and his chest flutters with a love for you when it is packed with rice, some steamed veggies, a boiled egg and pieces of pork katsu. He remembers now, the night he was getting ready, you had been slaving away in the kitchen. Your back to him as you chopped some veggies.
“You better take this with you on your trip! You know you’re not gonna get a single thing to eat while you’re away.”
Satoru struts up to you, coming up behind and wraps his arms around your torso to rest his chin on his shoulder.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll buy some food, and the hotel has a kitchen, you know.”
You scoff, “So you’d rather have subpar hotel food than my cooking?” You elbow him, his Limitless turned off around you so the blow had sent him back a step and he rubs the pain away.
“Ehhh? I just feel bad you’re cooking for me! Should be the other way around, you have to head out soon tomorrow too!” He hugs you again, nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck and breathes in your sweet scent.
“You know I love your cooking more. It’ll make me sad seeing food you made when I get home because it’ll be a reminder you’re not here with me.” His hands slide down your waist, dipping low enough to raise your shirt to give him leverage to get underneath it and feel your skin. He closes his eyes, draws his hips forward and grinds into your backside. He hears a sound come from you, a sigh, then a slight whimper. Then, there’s an elbow to his rib again.
“Oi! C’mon! Can’t I have you before we both have to leave?” You look over your shoulder to him and wave a pair of chopsticks at him.
“You can after I’m done cooking! Go over there—“ You point past him to the bar counter, “have a seat and wait, okay?”
Satoru stands where you had been when cooking, the same chopsticks in his hand as he takes a large bite of rice. He flips through social media on his phone while he wolfs down his meal and he pops his hip against the counter. He looks down between his hands, yup, boner is still there. Thinking of you had been enough to keep the blood pumping and feel flushed all over. He had been embarrassed about how red he’d get in the middle of a heated moment; but once you had cupped his blushing cheeks in your hands and wrapped your legs around and locked your ankles together to drive him deeper inside you, you had told him how hot it was that he’d get this worked up over you. Watching his face turn red made him look more needy, thus making him look even more desirable. He always wanted to look that way for you.
He flips to the camera on his phone. He angles it down to his dick, dropping the chopsticks into the box so he can grab the base of it. He made sure to include the vein that created a path down his pelvis to where he was aching and hard. His tip was red and beaded yet again with his clear precum, he fights the urge to spit in his hand and start jerking it right then and there. But the lighting above had been too perfect for him to pass up a chance to send you a picture of himself. He snaps a photo, ensuring the curve of his cock is shown prominent and the veins of his hand that he knew you liked so well were in frame, including the dripping precum that dribbled down the underside of his shaft. He groans, rubbing his thumb where his length begins before typing your name into his phone and choosing the photo.
Missing you. He hits send and goes back to finishing his meal.
He finishes his food, disappointment rising to the surface as time goes by. Five minutes. He cleaned his bento box and set it on the drying rack. Then ten. He went back to the couch and sat there, contemplating the idea of jerking off right here. Then twenty. He decided against it, put on a show and tried to get his mind off the incessant throbbing. Then thirty. He sighs, the feeling too overwhelming to ignore now and lets his head drop, walks back towards the hallway back to their room where he tosses his phone on the bed and flops himself down in the same manner. Legs and arms sprawled over the covers, he groans into the mattress when he moves his hips to gain a little friction against his sensitive dick. Sliding his head to the side so he rests his cheek against the covers, he huffs out a breath and his mouth hangs open. Another moan escapes him when he grinds into the fabric, feeling the pull of skin, imagining he was pressing against you. He picks up the pace and lets his eyes fall half lidded, a hand grapples the sheets into a fist and he’s full on humping his blankets that smell like you. He brings the fistful up to his nose, taking in the scent and he lets out a loud whimper of your name.
“God, please,” he croaks, his throat tightening with a desire that sends his skin ablaze. He stops for a second, his high coming up too fast, he feels for his phone to see if you’ve answered. Still nothing. He lets the phone fall out of his hand with a forlorn sigh. He huffs and rolls over to lay on his back, scooting himself to his side of the bed so he can rest his back halfway against the headboard of the bedframe.
Satoru reaches over to his bedside table and pulls out his small bottle of lube and tissues. If you weren’t going to answer him then he better take matters into his own hands (literally.) He lets the lube warm in the palm of his hand before ultimately wrapping his long fingers around his cock and finally, finally starts to make an attempt to rid of this need.
He grabs himself at the base, squeezing gently to feel the blood pump through his veins, the warmth spreading across his body and he watches the way his tip leaks even more. If only you were here to be between his thighs— he spreads his legs apart as the image slowly appears behind his eyelids that he’s fluttering shut— your mouth open, tongue reaching out to lick a stripe across his head and taste the saltiness. His hand moves in slow and deliberate swipes, his grip hard enough to bring his foreskin up over his tip to spread his wetness across his shaft. He slides his hand up and up, his tip in the palm of his hand and his hand tightens. Satoru’s mouth opens to release a moan, his hips shift up into his hand as he imagines your throat closing around him. He brings his fist back down to his base, coarse hair tickling the skin before raising his hand back up to the head of his cock. His lubed and wet index finger swipes across the underside of his cock where the pink tip begins, his finger expertly swipes up and down.
“Ugh— ahh— Please!” Your tongue flicks and laps on his tip, he can practically feel it, mimicking the sensation with his own digits to make up for the fact you weren’t here to physically do it for him. Satoru’s eye screw shut and his finger quickens its pace, the stimulation rising makes his skin feel like it’s been lighten ablaze and his chest heaves.
“Please, please— fuck,” He breathes, “Just like that!” He groans, instantly becoming louder. Had you been there you’d be shushing him; Satoru had a tendency to be a little loud, so much so that you’ve gotten a few complaints here and there. The man had no shame in declaring his pleasure for you, even if you weren’t home and he was fucking his own fist to find some semblance of relieve with the lack of company.
He lets out a whimper and a moan of your name as his fist wraps around his head and he twists his wrist, rubbing his tip like that, his thighs trembling with the overstimulation. Satoru’s mouth hangs open when he slides his hand back down to where his cock begins. His hips help his efforts when he thrusts his fist up and down in a deliberate and calculated manner. He tosses his head back, hitting his scalp against the headboard but the pain doesn’t phase him. He’s so lost in his pleasure that he doesn’t feel anything but the tingling sensation when he swipes his thumb over where he’s most sensitive, nor does he notice the drool pooling in his mouth. It slides over the corner of his mouth and drips down his chin. He lets out another groan, even louder than the last, the wet squelch of his hand wrapped around his cock fills his ears and the image of him thrusting in and out of your mouth has his toes curling. He can hear his blood flowing in his ears, barely being able to hear himself when he lets a string of curses release from his mouth.
“Fuck— just like that, let me fuck your mouth like that—“ His fist quickens, one eye cracks open to see he’s swollen, red, and his veins traveling up his cock are prominent. The coil inside his lower abdomen begins to tighten, as well as his hand, the speed unrelenting. “Agh, so wet…and tight for me, huh? Taking my cock so well,” He whines, his legs raise, spreading apart as his hand holds one of his legs open and bent under his knee. His body rocks, the intense feeling of him about to cum is there, it’s almost there! If he can just thrust more into his hand then maybe—
He lets go instantly, breathing heavy and struggling to catch his breath. He looks down between his legs where his cock twitches, it’s heavy and leans to one side, resting against his thigh. Satoru watches creamy white ooze out of his tip. The cold air of the room hits his skin and the contrast of his heated skin has him gripping the sheets beside him and involuntarily thrusting up into nothing. He needed to cum, this was torture! He needed you! He needed to feel your skin, feel your mouth on him, smell your scent— your scent. Satoru whips his head to look around the room, locating a forgotten shirt on the wood floor, he leans over the bed, snatches it up and lays it over his chest. His hand grapples the clothing in one hand and grips his cock again with his dominant one. He brings the shirt to his nose, the smell of your perfume, your skin, your very essence engulfs his senses and his eyes roll back into his head. His drive comes back to life, a thin layer of sweat now sheens his skin. Satoru makes quick work with more lube, squirting more into the palm of his hand and continues fisting his cock. The tip slides in and out of the opening between his thumb and palm, the wet sounds increase in their volume, as does his moans.
It’s almost like you’re with him. Almost. He slinks down so he’s fully laying on the bed, his hair going astray as he presses his head into his pillow. Satoru turns over onto his side, he lowers his head to dig his nose further into the fabric and takes a deep breath in. He thrusts, sending a jolt down his body when he imagines fucking into you, his mouth opens and bites the fabric as if he was digging his teeth into your shoulder. He lets out a loud groan, it turns high pitched and into a whimper as he fucks his own fist and his hand smacks against his pelvis, creating a filthy wet sound. That feeling inside him begins to coil again, veins protrude on his pelvis in his desperation and his throat tightens.
“Ugh, please, please,” His words are muffled with the shirt between his teeth. His hand tightens around him in the same way your pussy would squeeze and attempt to keep him sheathed inside. “Please, I need to cum! Let me cum in you, please—“ He chokes on his words, letting the shirt go and rubs his cheek into the soft cushion. The bed begins to rock and it squeaks under his weight, he can feel you, inside you, the perfect image of you open wide for him and taking him in with an ease that made his hands tremble. He can smell you, he can practically taste you, he can feel you wrapped around him. But it still wasn’t enough.
“God, please, just let me cum. I need it, just let me cum in you! Be good for me,” He begs, rolling onto his back once again, shakes the fabric off himself, leaving it forgotten beside his shaking body.
The scent isn’t helping anymore, he needed more! Maybe more stimulation… Satoru uses his other hand, squeezes his cock and thrusts his hips up into both hands. The head of his cock is wet and sensitive, each thrust against his palms sends electricity down his body, eliciting a slew of connected moans and pleads for release. But it’s not enough, his head falls into the pillow in frustration, he feels that itching in his throat— his eyes begin to burn and his chin trembles as he fights back his angry tears. One slips past his eyelids, his hands begin to slow their movements, his cock twitches with the loss of contact when he pulls away and pats around for his phone. The room is pitch black now, the moon hiding behind the trees in the distance. When Satoru taps his screen to open it, the light blinds him, drawing out a frustrated sigh and quickly unlocking the screen to your contact. He presses the speaker button when the phone begins to ring.
The phone rings once, twice, thrice— there’s silence and when he brings the phone closer to his ear, he hears a slight groan and shuffling on the other end.
“Hello?” You’re groggy, clearly woken up out of a deep, deep sleep. Satoru practically moans into the microphone at the sound of your voice, feeling that adrenaline of a newfound arousal that creeps up his spine. His hand immediately goes back to its previous job. He grunts, and he hears you ask the same question before going silent. He’s sure you know it’s him, he’s sure you can hear him jerking himself off. He’s sure you hear him when your name tumbles out of his mouth.
“Please, please, I can’t cum without you. Just tell me I can cum and I’ll leave you alone until you get home, I promise.” His words are littered with desperation when he uses both hands again.
“Satoru, wha— are you—?” There’s another plea that leaves his mouth and you’re on the other end still struggling to wake up. The realization hits you in the middle of a yawn when his words are finally processed and you’re staring down at your phone as your name and a string of desperate cries surround you. You lay your head back down, eyes fluttering shut and resting your phone beside you.
“You needed me that bad? Couldn’t wait one more night?”
Satoru shakes his head as if you could see him. A strangled grunt leaves him and he’s turning his head towards his phone.
“I couldn’t wait! I can’t now! I tried so hard, tried to get off without you. I thought I could do it but—“ He cries, tears streaming down his face. His chest tightens, his thighs tremble and spread away from each other, his hands squeeze around him, his back arches off the bed. That coil is ready to snap, it just needs your word to do so.
“I thought I could do it but I need you. I need your voice. Please, please let me cum!”
You could be cruel, make him hold off a little longer to hear him beg harder, louder. If you were there you would, you’d have him crying and overstimulated, have him thrusting into you and grabbing you so roughly that he leaves crescent shaped dents in your skin from his nails. He’d grab you to hold onto his own sanity, he’d look up at you with pleading eyes, his mouth open to speak but no words can be made out. He’d be a babbling mess until you finally gave him the word and he was filling you to the brim with his passion. But the effort would be too much, and he clearly had been working on this for a while now. You flicked your phone out of the phone call to check the notification from him.
Ah. A dick pic. One and a half hours ago. So he had been working on this for a bit.
“You looked really worked up earlier. I wonder how much worse it’s gotten.”
Satoru releases a high pitched whimper at the attention finally given to him. The sleep still apparent in your tone, but your voice becomes softer— like the way you’d whisper into his ear to drive his orgasm out of him.
“I was— I am! It’s unbearable! It’s so— I’m so hard for you, fuck! Please, just say the word! Let me cum for you, I’m begging you!!” That tightening inside him is about to snap, it waits for that final word, those words that could drive him to salvation and have him moaning his thanks. You lay in the darkness of your hotel room, letting him plead over and over until you feel your own arousal rise up and spread a warmth between your legs. You open one eye, your hips naturally moving to find just a bit of friction between your clit and the fabric covering you. Sleep almost takes over, it’s stronger than your sexual drive and your eye flutters back shut before you finally whisper to Satoru.
“Cum for me, Satoru. Lemme hear you.”
Snap. Satoru’s jaw slacks open, his eyes widen and go cross eyed as the wave of pleasure takes over his entire body. His reddened skin ignites a fire inside him, his hands tremble and struggle to squeeze like before, his hips driving up into his fists with a sloppy and quick pace. The sound of your voice knocked him right off the edge and his cum spits out in ropes that land across his skin. The pleasure drives throughout his body, his throat closes as he rides out his orgasm, strangling cries come through the phone to your end and you can picture the way he looks. He’s releasing a hand to grab for the sheets again, his chest rises and falls, his muscles ripple beneath skin as more of his cum dribbles out of his tip in now weak spurts that travel down over his fingers. The orgasm has his head spinning, his vision blurs and his limbs begin to feel weak, and yet his cock still twitches and slowly begins to soften. Cum leaks out of him and he lets his eyes shut when the high begins to lower and the rushing blood in his ears deafens. His limbs go limp and he lets his head tilt to the side.
“Thank you,” He huffs, a whisper so quiet that he doesn’t know if you even heard it. He’s silent for a moment, his heart slowing down with each large intake of breath. Satoru strains his ear for you to say something. There’s a snore, and then another shuffle of what sounds like rustling covers. He sighs, letting his gaze linger at the ceiling as his body finally loosens from the tension that he had been building all day. He rests for a few minutes, letting his mind wander to you finally coming home and hugging him close in a greeting. A smile forms on his lips and his last bit of energy is used to get up and take another quick shower.
When he returns to his room, still naked except for the towel wrapped around his hips, he gets back into bed and leans down to speak into the phone.
“Excited to see you tomorrow. I promise I’ll make it up to you…you know, after waking you up in the middle of the night. Love you.” He hangs up the phone and settles into bed, a wide smile grows across his face as he lets himself fall into another dream of you coming home and stripping your clothes off. Pushing him into the bedroom and locking the door behind you, getting on top of him and exposing your skin to him. Raising his hands up to your breasts to cup them, you grinding down into his lap and then letting his name fall out of your mouth with a heavy need.
Satoru rolls onto his other side, his brows scrunched together in a sudden discomfort. He tosses and turns, a feeling boiling in his bowls and creeping it way downward toward— he looks under the covers, groans and slumps his head back into his pillow.
“Hard again.” He groans, grabbing his phone to call you again.
#pepper writes#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo smut#jujutsu gojo#my writing#gojo x you#gojo x y/n
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The Mango (The Surprise, Part 13)
Emily Prentiss x fem!reader
Warnings: explicit language, innuendo, implied sex, periods, mostly just fluff, reader taking care of Emily because our girl deserves it
Word count: 1.9k
Summary: Emily comes back from a hard week in the field and you treat her in all the ways you can possibly think of. Because she's baby girl and she deserves to be taken care of.
Week 23: The Mango
In both your personal and professional life, you were a wildly independent person. Self-sufficient, dedicated, proud of the work you did and how hard you’d worked to get where you were. You were nobody’s doormat, nobody’s housekeeper, nobody’s mom.
If anyone else you knew, especially men, asked you to cook for them or do their laundry or take care of them in any way, you would have been personally affronted. You would have said, “You’re a fucking grown-up, do it yourself. I’m not your mom.” And you’d mean it.
So it embarrassed you a bit that, with Emily, you acted like a full-blown ‘50s-style housewife and you loved it. Not all the time, of course. But enough of the time that you couldn’t just brush it off. Dinner on the table when she got home? Your pleasure. Packing her lunch? A joy. Doing the laundry and making sure she always had a second go-bag packed and ready in case there was a quick turnaround on cases? You lived for that shit, especially when you hid little notes in the pockets that said things like:
I love you (so does little mango)!
We miss you! <3!
So proud of you for saving lives and kicking criminal ass!
P.S. It’s hot. ;)
The bottom line? You were down bad for Emily. You had been from the moment she’d asked you out and all the years since. But after you’d gotten pregnant, your roles had switched a bit. Emily had always taken care of you well, but in the last few months she'd taken over significantly more of the household tasks since you were often tired and achy. You ordered takeout more often than you cooked (Emily had tried, but after her third time setting off the fire alarm you’d said, “You know what, babe, why don’t we just order out?”).
You missed taking care of Emily. God knows, she wouldn’t let anybody else do it. So when she’d called you from the jet to let you know she was on her way home after a grueling week in the field–made even more grueling by the fact that she was on her period–you set out to treat Emily right. To treat her in all the ways you used to treat her before you got pregnant, in all the ways that Emily deserved to be treated and so rarely let herself be.
You had groceries delivered to make her favorite meal, and when the little Find My dot that was Emily showed up at Quantico and started making its way back to DC, you ran her a bath–water scalding so it’d be nice and hot when she came in, fragrant with lavender Epsom salts. You lit candles, turned the bathroom lights low, even put her favorite hoodie and sweatpants and a fluffy towel in the dryer so they’d be toasty and warm when she got out of the bath.
You started on dinner, playing Emily’s favorite Salah Ragab record on the turntable. The food processor growled as it worked overtime to blend a homemade hummus, complete with your secret ingredient: a splash of aquafaba. You chopped parsley and mint for fattoush, made a marinade for the chicken flavored with all the spices Emily loved so much from her childhood years in Oman and Egypt, sumac and cardamom and coriander and all the others that you ordered online from a specialty Middle Eastern spice seller.
Your oven shawarma wasn’t as good as shawarma from a spit in Cairo, but it was about as close as you could get at home, and Emily loved it. And you made a damn good fattoush and hummus. You sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, whipped together a quick yogurt sauce.
You’d just put the chicken and veggies in the oven and were starting on the cream cheese filling for the stuffed dates when you heard the door open and shut.
“In the kitchen!” you called, hands sticky from slicing the dates.
Emily looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, her blazer rumpled from a long day of travel. But her face lit up when she saw you.
“Do I smell… shawarma?!” she asked, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your neck, her hands resting protectively over your baby bump.
“Mmhm.” You grinned, feeling Emily’s body melt into yours, the tension in her muscles already dissipating.
“What’s the occasion?” She turned you around, so she could lean her arms on your shoulders, running her fingers through your hair.
You shrugged. “Can’t a girl just want to treat her wife?”
“She sure can.” Emily smiled and leaned in to press her lips softly to yours. You held your hands out at your sides so you wouldn’t be tempted to press them into Emily’s clothes or skin.
Emily pulled away, watching you lovingly as you sliced and mixed and stirred.
“Can I help with anything?” she asked, lowering herself into a chair and wincing slightly.
“In the kitchen!?” You scoffed. “Absolutely not. There’s a bath ready for you, so go relax for a bit.”
Her eyes brightened. “Aw, honey. That’s so sweet of you.” She grabbed your hips again, once again turning you away from the counter so she could press you against it in a hungry kiss.
You giggled and swatted at her with a dish towel. “Go before the water gets cold!”
“Care to join?” she asked suggestively, pulling lightly at the waistband of your shorts.
You smirked, gently grasping her fingers and moving them away. “I have to finish dessert.”
Emily walked toward the bathroom like a scolded puppy, looking back with big eyes. “I can think of something else I’d rather have for dessert,” she commented, eyebrows raised.
You waved her off, blushing furiously. “Get out of here, you dork! Go take your bath!”
“I thought we were treating me tonight!” Emily called from the bathroom.
“That’s an after-dinner treat, honey,” you yelled back. “I’ve got shit to do first.”
“Fine! But I’m gonna hold you to that!”
You shook your head, grinning, as you spooned cream cheese filling into the halved dates, pressing them into a mixture of crushed pistachios and rose petals. God, you loved your wife.
When the dates were plated, the bulgur in the fattoush soaked through, the pita warmed, and the chicken covered in foil and resting on the counter, you washed your hands and went to find Emily, grabbing her comfy clothes and towel from the dryer.
You heart surged when you found her still in the tub, eyes closed, face relaxed. This is what your girl deserved. You leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.
“You alright, honey?” you asked, trying to squat down next to the tub, but ending up on your knees thanks to the baby.
She hummed in affirmation, keeping her eyes closed. “Thank you so much for this, baby,” she mumbled quietly.
“Anytime, love.” You watched her for a few more minutes, then set the stack of warm clothes on the bathroom counter. “There’s a warm towel and some PJs here for you,” you said, struggling to get to your feet.
“You good?” Emily chuckled, watching you out of the corner of her eye.
“Yes.” When you finally managed to make it to your feet, you had beads of sweat on your forehead. It wasn’t even that your belly was that heavy yet, it was that it threw off your center of gravity and made moving from one position to another awkward. “Get dried off when you're ready,” you told her. “I’ll get dinner on the table.”
You were proud of the spread when you stood and surveyed it. Shawarma chicken straight from the oven, spiced and heavenly-smelling. Warm pita bread and a swirl of smooth, creamy hummus with just a bit of paprika and olive oil on top. A lovely, vibrant fattoush, sliced cucumbers, juicy tomatoes. A little plate of stuffed dates, popping with green and pink from the pistachios and rose petals.
Emily walked in, hair wet around her shoulders, blotching her sweatshirt. You pulled her chair out for her but, before she sat down, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. She smelled like lavender and fresh laundry, and you breathed her in, holding her close.
You could tell by the way she lingered there, by the way she breathed easier with her body pressed against yours, that Emily would need a lot of touch tonight. Not just in a sexual way, though Emily’s sex drive was always through the roof on her period. You could tell that tonight, Emily would let you hold her, that she’d curl herself around you tightly, possessively, as if to cover the most that she possibly could of your surface area.
In other words, she needed comfort. And she didn't get it from anyone else, not really. It had taken her a long time to even ask for it from you, to seek it out. So when she did, you were always more than happy to oblige. More than happy to hold clingy, sweet, needy Emily for as long as she needed.
She whined a bit when you pulled away, and you kissed her cheek, playing with her fingers.
“You’ve got to eat something, love. Then I promise I will not let you go for the rest of the night.”
She sat obediently, squeezing your hand, and piled her plate with all the things you’d made, eyes rolling back in her head when she swiped a finger through the hummus and put it in her mouth.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she gushed. “I swear your hummus tastes just like my friend Zainab’s mom’s from when I lived in Oman.”
“It’s the specialty spices,” you shrugged, taking a bite of pita with shawarma and veggies.
“No, I think it’s the special person making it,” Emily cheesed, beaming at you.
You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, you’re getting it tonight.”
“I certainly hope so.”
When your plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked safely into the fridge, you led Emily to the bedroom, pulling back the covers for her, tucking her in.
“You know these are just gonna get untucked, right?” she asked, biting her lip.
“Shh,” you scolded. “Let me take care of you.”
You crawled into bed next to Emily, drawing her body into yours, holding her gently as you pressed your lips to hers. She melted into the kiss, already breathless.
You brushed her hair out of her face, placing your hand gently on her lower stomach. “How are your cramps?” you asked. “You want any medicine or anything?”
“The only medicine I need is you,” she said, guiding your hand lower.
You chuckled. “Alright, Romeo. Calm down.” You lowered your face to her neck, planting kisses all across her shoulder and collarbone. “I told you I’d take care of you, and I will.”
Emily held your face gently in her hands, looking deep into your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” she whispered.
You pecked her on the lips. “Because I love you. And you deserve good things.”
And with that, you started your long, slow journey across the topography of Emily’s body, ready and willing to give her every good thing you possibly could.
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss fanfic#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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I've woken up on this day with a few quick thoughts on this scene from DMC5
Some things ppl (maybe myself in the past) have noticed and stated probably before but I'll throw my thoughts in anyway.
So, after Dante and Vergil knock back Nero, to keep him from following after him and establishing him as the protector of the human world while they go on to the demon world to cut down the Qliphoth tree. You can see Vergil's gaze linger on Nero for a good moment.
And I mean for a hot minute, too. He's gazing at the one he just found out is his own son. After witnessing the kind of strength his son displayed. He's thinking, and you can tell.
What about, you may ask?
About giving Nero his poetry book, of course. A personal belonging of his that he's personally cherished. And you know...this is actually the most affectionate Vergil has been towards Nero, in his own why. Let me elaborate real quick on why that is.
In Visions of V, its established that Vergil sees his poetry book as his 'heart'. Its tied to all the trauma he's suffered at first, but lamenting with his younger self, he realizes that he no longer needs to run from it and instead face it. His Heart will protect him.
He goes on to say to himself that he doesn't have to toss away what he has left. It goes on, in this moment, to show how Vergil eventually believes deep down that he and Dante can be twins again. It twists the deep sibling rivalry on a more positive spin.
I say positive, because all this time Vergil's been very keen on proving his strength into defeating his little brother who he's lost twice to by this point. As himself (3) and as Nelo (1). Its why he splits himself to gain more power and laments over the whole thing as V.
Its why Urizen is so quick to bring up how he's stronger than Dante and no longer has to 'see him as a threat'. He doesn't even have to spare the effort.
Getting back on track, though. Its funny how its stated V's poetry book is his heart, because of how much its tied to not just him, but Urizen. He named Urizen after one of Blake's works after all, the 'Book of Urizen'. Both halves of him are tied to that one book. His heart.
So Vergil spending a moment to ponder and consider giving Nero that same book? Him having a taunt that involves asking himself if he should entrust it to him? And he does? He's giving Nero not just something personally cherished, but essentially a piece of himself as well.
I think the nice bow on top is that Nero picks up the book, very likely recognizes that its the one V was carrying around all the time and realizes just how important it is. Thus, he's actually reading it by the end of the game to maybe understand personally how it was cherished.
Vergil took a minute to decide on giving his son his 'heart', followed through with it, and now Nero is holding onto and 'protecting it' until the day they can one day meet again. Its basically Vergil's own way of displaying a sort of affection towards Nero, the way I see it.
Its the little things I like about these games, ya know...just the things you can potentially pick up when you think about it. Its a shame alot of added context is in a media that you can only read through fan translation (thankfully) and not accessible traditionally, but its a good thing the community has come around to getting a hold of and translating such things for others to read.
#devil may cry#dmc#leo's dmc analysis#I posted this on twitter so I'll cross post it here too#I love the symbolism of Vergil's nerdy book
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Chelley Week 2024, Day 6: Heartbeart/AU
(AU being Blue Sky but the other way around, lol - Orange Sky)
Somehow it didn't immediately occur to him that Chell wasn't covered in all those silly little colours barricading him from viewing anything at all, and took to what he was best at: speaking his mind. "Is that you?" a moment passed where said nothing in favour of rubbing his stinging eyes, "Oh, wow, you look awf-"
What he saw when he looked up again was certainly a sight to behold. One that stopped him talking, actually, so assuredly some kind of miracle. Or at least a world record.
Right next to where he'd left the cold, lifeless shell of a core, stood the prettiest, most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire existence, and probably before that, if it were even possible. What little light was left in the room from the instructional video he'd left on standby hit her just perfectly, emphasising every delightful detail and feature. Her eyes were a fairly dull colour alone, but when she stood in the light like that, he'd never seen eyes shine brighter than hers, like two burningly beautiful stars sitauted in the middle of a stunning night sky. The sort of sky that you usually wouldn't pay half a mind to unless you really, truly looked and realised just how beguiling it was.
Wheatley was having trouble focusing on one thing. Her skin looked soft and smooth, as did her hands - well-kept and taken care of, a contrast to his pale and damaged ones (he often found himself getting papercuts and getting too emotional over them, or being disappointed when his knuckles got all red and dry again in the hotter months of the year). Her hair fell oh-so-perfectly across her face, looking elegant yet messy at the same time, the combination of which just radiated an over all feeling of breeziness. And her face, she was-
'Okay', Wheatley internally spoke as he took a moment to compose himself, 'calm down, Wheatley, she's just a bit of light. Like a... photo..synthesis... or something. Something like that. Dunno what that means, but I remember it from somewhere. She is sort of like a photo, though. Pretty as one. AUGH wait, no, stop this... Just keep talking!'
"...Gorge- GOOD." quick to correct himself, nice save, "L-looking good, actually. Very... very nice."
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perfect
Happy SoMa Day to all who celebrate! A national holiday, as far as I'm concerned 😋I offer a fluffy, bite-sized little ficlet as my contribution, which features some of my favorite Soma tropes - grumpy Soul, domestic fluff, accidental cuteness, and BREAKFAST - all in less than 1k words!
Read it on AO3, or under the cut in its entirety!
-
“You’ll feel better once you have some food in you.”
Soul knows she’s right–Maka is almost always right, not that he’d willingly admit it–but still, he’s choosing to gripe about it.
He gripes about it all the way from his motorcycle to the glass entry doors of the restaurant, through the tightening of his meister’s grip on his wrist, until they're sliding into plush, squeaky booth seats and the hostess is shoving menus into their hands with a stifled smirk.
He bitches a little less, however, when his eyes fall upon the wide selection of food items displayed on the pages of said menus, as he flips through the smorgasbord of breakfast offerings. Banana nut pancakes and huevos rancheros, Belgian waffles and eggs benedict florentine. This place has every breakfast delicacy under the sun.
Unfortunately, the rest of the population of this po-dunk little Midwestern town must know this, too, as the restaurant is packed, and harbors every social annoyance under the sun as well.
Screaming toddlers. Middle-aged brunchers clinking their glasses of mimosa too loudly. Elderly couples staring at him obviously, their expressions aghast with horror. A crowd of servers gathered around a nearby table, presenting a young girl with a stack of birthday pancakes as they sing to her.
His head hurts, they got back to their hotel room after the mission way too late, and he’s running on a less-than-optimal amount of sleep. He wants to shovel a giant plate of scrambled eggs and bacon into his face and then promptly crash into the nearest sleep-able surface.
Soul groans and lets his head fall to the table, his forehead meeting wood with a heavy thunk. Moments later, there’s the all-too-familiar sensation of a pinch to his ear.
“You’re such a grump,” Maka giggles.
“I’m allowed.”
“Never said you weren’t,” she replies. He waits for her to continue berating him–’sit up straight already’ or ‘stop breathing on the table, it’s disgusting’- but she doesn’t. He rolls his head around, angling his eyes up to look at her, and finds her attention focused elsewhere.
“Isn’t this place just the cutest?” she muses. “I love the décor. It’s so cozy and welcoming.”
She’s gazing out at the room beyond, a twinkle of delight in her eyes as she takes it all in. Soul notices, too, for the first time–opposite them is a flickering fireplace framed by a brick hearth, and whimsical works of modern art hang upon every wall. Strategically placed ivy plants bring some color to the dining room, their jade-green, star-shaped leaves cascading down in long, elegant tendrils.
And on the wall of the booth they’re presently seated at, a lushly textured panel of artificial greenery. Maka’s flaxen head contrasts nicely against the darker shade, and–it would make for a lovely photo backdrop.
“Hey.” He sits up, suddenly feeling invigorated, and reaches a hand into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his phone. “Smile for me real quick?”
Maka blinks at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you… are you taking a picture of me?”
“No, I’m checking the weather for our flight home later,” Soul deadpans. In response, Maka sticks her tongue out at him and wrinkles her nose in an exaggerated grimace. Soul shrugs and hits the camera button, forever immortalizing the moment on digital film, and Maka blanches when she realizes he’s snapped a photo.
“H-Hey! Delete that!”
“No.”
“W-Well, take another one at least–”
“Pose nicely, then.”
Maka pouts, her cheeks visibly flushed and her brows cinched together, but before he can get that expression on film, she composes herself–adjusts her pigtails and straightens her spine, schools her face into a pleasant, soft smile. Soul lines her up in the viewfinder of his camera app, and–
Snap.
He examines the photo for several minutes, eyes darting between his meister and the image of her on his phone screen, before nodding subtly to himself.
“Well? How do I look?”
“Perfect.”
His fingers tap, tap, tap away as he uploads the picture to his story, witty caption and all–’She dragged me to a bougie brunch place instead of letting me sleep in’- and doesn’t realize Maka has fallen silent until he’s hit the post button.
When he puts his phone down and looks at her once again, she's staring at him with a strange expression on her face, her bottom lip between her teeth and her cheeks a shade of scarlet nearly rivaling his eyes.
“What?” he asks.
Maka clears her throat, runs a nervous finger idly around one of her pigtails and looks down at her lap.
“N-Nothing.”
At that moment, his phone pings–a reply to his story post from Black Star.
“Bro, you’re such a sap.”
#soul eater#soul x maka#SoMa Day#soul eater evans#maka albarn#soul eater fanfiction#cherry writes#fluff#ficlet#one shot#writers on tumblr#ao3 fanfic
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RealAgeAU - First Night
We are back because i had a new idea and i really liked it :3 and I really wanted to type a KillerPOV drabble so here we are
So we are back with a new drabble! also @spotaus get over here :D also. *nervous laughter* I think these drabbles keep getting longer and longer. don't expect long drabbles each time please hehe... Some concepts are just shorter in what they need to do them justice and sometimes i get multiple ideas for the same scenerio and they get longer to fit it all.
First Drabble
Prev Drabble over here
Next Drabble? One day
Look at these guys trying to parent their immortal child. Look they know the situation even if they are still getting used to the idea and all it implies
-------
Killer watches the farm house through the tree line with a frown. Cross stands next to him with his own frown "Think this was a bad idea? Maybe we can go to another place."
Killer thinks as he keeps staring at the door that Horror disappeared into "Maybe..." except they had been constantly universe hopping for the last four days. Never staying for longer than either a quick nap, meal or supply run.
A glance back to see Dust who stands with a very exhausted Nightmare.
Killer turns back to the house "Maybe for the better." even if they really need a night of rest and-
Dust huffs "Or you can just have trust in Horror's opinion and wait it out."
Killer turns back with a glare "I am being cautious!"
Dust doesn't even look at him "You are being an idiot. Crop is fine. He never sold Horror out to the Stars. He won't sell out Nightmare." Dust keeps looking at Nightmare who is very clearly on the path to fall asleep fully.
Killer glares but steps away from the treeline and marches over to Dust. He glares and takes Nightmare from his hold. Dust looks unimpressed but doesn't challenge him.
Nightmare grumbles but just turns around and holds unto him instead as Killer hugs him close. Killer can feel his soul getting a bit smushed between them but it feels nice. a pressure that reassures him that nightmare is there and alive and fine.
Ngihtmare is still so light and tiny and fits so perfectly and Killer honestly doens't want to let go.
There is a very good reason that Nightmare hardly has to walk himself as all four of them are more than happy to hold unto him.
Cross looks up "Horror is coming this way."
Killer turns to look in the right direction as Dust stands next to him with his hand in his pockets.
Horror joins them and looks between Dust and him. more pointedly at Nightmare before pointing back over his shoulder "We can stay for a bit." Then he stares at Killer "please just behave. Crop is nice."
Killer huffs as he hugs Nightmare tighter to him. Nightmare huffs as he looks at him annoyed but doesn't complain. Killer actually feels Nightmare hold unto him tighter as well. Clearly more anxious about this meeting than he wants to admit.
Killer coos and nuzzles the tiny skull "It is okay Nightlight, if anything happens we are out before they even have the chance to do anything." Nightmare ducks his skull and mumbles some words before nodding.
Cross pushes and pats his own clothes down. Trying to get some of the dirt and grime off "Okay. okay. good first impressions. We can do this." he straightens his spine and nods to Horror. Clearly giving up on being presentable.
Killer can admit the constant universe hopping hasn't been the best for their overall hygiene which was another deciding factor for even considering doing this.
Horror gives him another look and Killer grumbles "Fine fine! I won't start trouble." for now. unless that other sans tries anything to hurt or take their little nightlight.
Horror still holds his gaze for a moment longer before nodding and leading the group towards the house. Instead of knocking again he just pushes the door open and gives them a look "no shoes" he glances at Nightmare who still doesn't have fitting shoes and clearly gives up with having manners concerning their babybones.
Killer shrugs and easily kicks off his shoes by the door, Dust does the same while Cross puts his shoes neatly by the door. Horror removes his own shoes again and leads them in.
Killer holds Ngihtmare close and starts to hang back in the group, nearest the door but still able to keep a close socket on what is going on.
Steps on the stairs and a sans walks down. this one has green eye lights and looks up with a smile "Howdy! It is nice to meet you'll!" he nods to dust "Good to see you again Dust. How is the shoulder holding up?"
Dust shrugs and gives a thumbs up.
Crop nods and smiles at them "Anyway. Horror told me about... the situation." and it is obvious in his curius gaze who he is looking for.
Killer pulls Nightmare a bit closer to him but Horror shoots him a warning look and motions forwards.
Killer huffs but slowly walks closer. Making sure everything about him says not to even fucking try or there will be pain. Nightmare turns slowly to study the new skeleton.
Crop smile turns more nervous as Killer goes closer but his whole face lights up when he spots Nightmare. Killer is a bit torn on how to feel about that. Obviously it is the correct reaction, Nightmare is the most adorable little babybones. But this is their babybones and Killer feels possessive over him.
Crop smiles more gentle as he focusses on Nightmare "Hey there. I am Crop. Horror's friend. Nice to finally meet you."
Nightmare frowns and pushes closer to Killer. Still feeling a bit conflicted about being treated as a kid it seems. At least he isn't trying to deny he is a child anymore. Killer nuzzles the top of the tiny skull and Nightmare relaxes more in his hold.
Crop grins widely as he looks at Horror "Anyway. I was grabbing some stuff. I don't have a lot of children things but I do got some too small clothes for either my brother or me." He looks from skeleton to skeleton "I... think you all can use a moment to relax."
After which Crop points out the obivous living room and kitchen. He motions towards two doors to the side which he says are his own and his brother's room. Next he shows the door under the stairs that leads to a bathroom and he welcomes them to use it.
Dust frowns "anything apple scented? apples dont go over well with Ngihtmare."
Crop tilts his skull but clearly thinks it over "I don't think so... if you do find anything with apples you can just leave it in my room, I ask you not to throw it away because somethings are harder to get than others."
Dust nods and takes Nightmare out of Killer's arms again and Killer can't help but watch closely as Dust easily gains a secure hold on Nightmare and Nightmare gets comfortbale with practised ease.
Dust nods to them "I am going to wash us." and he goes towards the bathroom.
Crop frowns "I am afraid i don't have enough toothbrushes for all of you. Maybe I got some somewhere but i wouldn't know where."
Dust shrugs as he raises his own bag "Has some necesserities." and he disappears inside.
Crop nods before looking at the them "I can show you the spot I had in mind for you guys. It is the attic and I apologise for the mess but I am sure it can be quickly changed to fit you."
Horror nods and Cross smiles "Thank you so much. Sorry for springing this on you..."
Crop waves it off "It is better than Horror just showing up with a stranger who had a hlaf severed shoulder."
Killer and Cross both blink and slowly turn to Horror. Horrro just looks sheepish "The crystal wasn't charged and Dust had been the one injured. This was as far as I could get..."
Killer blinks, okay that explains why Horror had trusted this place and this person.
Even so as Crop starts to lead them up the set of stairs Killer shares a look with Cross and nods towards the bathroom holding Dust and Nightmare. Cross follows his gaze before nodding and easily going to stand guard by the door.
Perfect. that way if anyone tries anything there is Cross to stop them as Dust can get Nightmare away safely. Killer quickly goes after Horror and Crop.
The attic is full of old boxes. But also an old closet, a large lounge chair by the round window and a nice queen sized bed. It is bare at the moment but Crop walks over with some new sheets and blankets and puts them on the bed. After it he quickly goes to the window and opens it to let the room breathe.
Crop turns around and smiles "Well, this is the attic. obviously a bit of a mess but we can probably move all the boxes and old stuff towards that area" he points to the side "Which will open up the space for you five to use." he looks sheepish "my house isn't exactly made to hosue this many people so it isn't a long term solution but this should work for a little while for you guys."
Horror nods as he starts moving stuff around "Thank you again Crop. This means a lot."
Killer gets to work with putting the bedding on the bed and getting ti ready. He doesn't care to much about bedding himself but Nightmare can't handle the cold that well and he deserves every bit of comfort they can get him.
Crop smiles "no worries! I am happy i can help." he starts helping moving the tinier things around as Hroror does most of the heavy lifting "I can go into town aftr chores tomorrow to see what I other people in town have that we cna use. I will also call my brother after you guys are set up to tell him of the situation." he stops and shoots them a look "I already told Horror but I am going to need somekind of story to tell others around here. THe multiverse isn't a known thing and I honestly don't want to get involved with that too much." and he waits.
Horror and him share a look before they look back at Crop "We will... figure somethign out..."
Killer nods "We will have to talk with the others. see what we can say and get a general idea." Killer figures they can sell it as being one of their babybones having been stolen six years ago. Probably either Dust or Cross as both have purple magic and would fit genetic wise. Can probably fit somekind of abusive ex in there that would explain Nightmare's nervous and scared reactions.
He will offer it as an explanation to the others later.
Crop nods "I will for now just say some friends came by with a babybones and you guys aren't willing to tell me exactly what happened yet. Should buy us more time but also enable to get someone to come to make sure he is okay."
Cold dread and Killer growls "What the hell are you talking about?!"
Crop blinks "A healer? Horror said that there was magic at play that caused him to become an adult before and now a child again. I can only imagine what kind of strain and restriction that places on a child's magic and soul."
A new dread. a fear he hadn't considered.
Did the magical protection harm Nightmare's own magic?!
Horror nods "And a healer would be able to make sure he is okay?"
Crop relaxes and smiles "hopefully. But for that I am going to have to need somekind of explanation or they will worry any damage or wounds have been newly inflected." and he shoots them a look "Which... could cause trouble with the family situation you guys have established at the moment."
Hroror frowns and Killer knows they both know what Crop implied. If someone thinks they are actively abusing him they will try to take Nightmare away from them for his own safety. The fact they all have love and aren't the most... friendly looking monsters will work against them.
Crop finishes putting some spare clothes in the closet "Again, I can buy some time with vague answers but from there on the explanation is up to you four." he looks around the room "This good for now? Sorry there isn't anymore space but Papyrus will come back soon and need his own room."
Horror thanks him again and says it will work just fine. Crop welcomes them to use the shower and bathroom as much as they want and that his kitchen is open for them to use whenever.
After that is is mostly a blurr. They finish getting the attic ready for them and Killer takes his turn to shower after Dust as Horror and crop work together on some quick dinner for them all.
The meal itself is mostly silent as Horror tries to coax Nightmare into eating. Nightmare still has the bad habit of eating too little or not eating at all when he is nervous or anxious, which is often.
Killer is still not a fan of how Crop seem to stare mystified and in awe at Nightmare. completely enchanted by the sight of the small babybones.
soon dinner is ready and Killer gets ready for bed quickly as Dust takes over most of the duties to get Nightmare ready, having had the most practise up to this point.
Killer just lays in the bed waiting when Dust comes by to drop Nightmare off with him "get him comfortable." and Dust leaves to get ready for bed himself.
Killer immediantly hugs the tiny form close and purrs "busy day today."
Nightmare hums sleepily nad give shim the stink eye but Killer grins as he pokes one of the little cheeks. Nightmare grumbles as he pushes at the hand poking him "Killer..."
Killer chuckles as he hugs the other close "Tiny grumpy nugget." Killer laughs as he sees Nightmare's little skull explode with a purple blush as he pushes at him.
"Killer stop that" it is more of a whine than a real demand and Killer nuzzles the skull with a purr. Killer can admit it is amazing to just lay in a bed. feeling clena and having a Nightmare near while content, full of food, and clean. only thing better would have been to have him wrapped up in a warm blanket directly after a very warm bed. but Killer only had that happen once before.
For now he just holds the tiny being near and relaxes when his own soul is right next to the comfortable babybones.
Honestly? All of this was worth it to have Nightmare clean, well fed and ready to sleep in an actual bed. Killer will admit to himself that the others were right with them having to find a place to settle, at least for a short while.
By the time that Dust returns and joins him Nightmare is already sound asleep and Killer is close to going to sleep himself. He falls asleep before either Cross and Horror join them.
------
Cross finally finished cleaning up himself and feels so many times better. Cross can admit he has problems with being dirty and is a neat-freak as Killer likes to call it. Cross doesnt mind it much because despite his teasing Killer also makes sure they go to places and by places where Cross can get the time to clean himself up.
Cross was a bit unsure about this plan at first but with the absolute faith both Horror and Dust had shown in the plan it had been a quick decision to trust them on this.
and they had been right!
The sans, crop, had been nice and helpful and immediantly saw Nightmare as the child he was. Which honestly is amazing and the only correct answer in Cross's mind. He also apologised for only having one bed available to them but Horror had just shrugged and siad it wouldn't be the first time they slept in a pile. Crop had been confused but didn't demand an explanation. Which is good because Cross doubts any of them have an explanation for why they all feel so comfortable with eahc other and will gravitate to lay together.
The fresh ingredients and meal made with it had also been welcome and even needed by how clearly all of them had needed a calm evening. Seeing the others relax had been a welcome sight and Cross takes all their dirty clothes to the washer.
Cross takes time to put their things in the washer and turning it on the right cycle. They will probably have some clothes dye mix-ups but Cross isn't going to seperate it into three different loads and hog the washer and run up the electric AND water bill just to run three tiny washes when it fits in one.
Cross nods to himself as the washer gets to work and makes his way up the stairs, hearing Horror move around in the kitchen. No doubt cleaning up and preparing some food for tomorrow in advance. Cross walks up the set of stairs with a certain excitement, he hadn't seen the attic yet as Horror and Killer took care of getting their things up there and getting them all installed while Cross helped Dust with Nightmare.
Cross feels the clothes he is wearing. it is just old cotton t-shirt and old sweats but Cross feels so much better. Just the idea of not sleepign in his everyday clothes will be so nice!
He opens the door and moves silently into the dark room. THe window is still open to let in the fresh summer air and Cross sight finds the three sleeping in the bed.
Cross walks over and smiles as he sees Dust, Killer and Nightmare all sound asleep. Nightmare is held captive in Killer's arms but lays with his skull right against Dust's own skull. Dust lays mostly hidden under the blanket wiht Nightmare and Cross is pretty sure that Dust is rolled up around nightmare as much as he physically can with Killer being where he is.
Killer has two arms tightly around Nightmare but his skull lays higher on the pillow than Dust, making it seem both are slotted together.
The three of them hardly take up a third of the room on the bed like this but Cross can't get himself to lay in it just yet. Not with the sudden turbulance in his soul. He quickly, but silently, leaves the room and rushes out of the house.
He stands on the porch panting and shaking. What are they doing? They are going to mess this up beyond believe and-
A hand on his shoulder. Horror leans with his back against the fench and stares at him "What is wrong?"
Cross chuckles and lays his skull on the wood of the porch fench. It is cool in the night air "We are messing everythign up."
Horror tilts his skull "I mean. I think we have been doing alright."
Cross laughs as he holds his skull "alright?! We have been dragging a babybones through different universes and dimensions for the last two months, you know, after abandoning him for a month?!" How is that okay?! This is the first time that Cross saw Nightmare completely clean, fed and comfortable in a fucking bed. Three. Months!
Horror doesn't disagree with him and just rubs his back.
Silence around them and Cross groans "What are we going to do?"
Horror shrugs "Same as before? figure it out step by step and try to do right."
Cross pulls his skull away from the wood and looks at him "We couldn't even feed him regularly. we had no place to stay. We were homeless Horror."
Horror nods "And we will have to figure out a plan for that now."
Cross feels himself shake as the anxiety returns "How?! We have no money. we have no papers or passports. we have no plan. nothing!"
Horror gives him a calm look "We got a place to stay right now to figure it out."
Cross groans as he rubs his face "Great. just taking stuff."
hroror shrugs "We can help Crop on his farm as thanks." he shoots him a look "It wasn't like it was that different wiht Nightmare before. we did somework for him and in trade could live there and get things." he raises a brow "If it makes it easier. See it as a temporary job with included housing."
Cross blinks as he considers that. it... sounds better than just getting things and owning someone for a lot of things. he gives a slow nod.
Horror nods as he continues "As for the other things. we are still... figuring stuff out. We ar e new to all of this and didn't exactly have places to stay when we started this whole thing. I think we did okay." he shrugs and nudges him back inside "lets sleep. You are tired and it is making you anxious. Tomorrow we can talk with Crop about how this will all work and go from there."
Cross is unsure before nodding and following Horror back inside. Horror locks the door behind him before going upstairs. They get to the bed and Horror gets comfortable with practised ease and Cross follows his lead. a bit of rearranging and Cross feels himself relax as he lays near his... friends? colleagues? fellow co-parents? Cross doesn't think about it much longer.
Killer had once compared them to cats for their habit of laying on and enar one another and Cross can't help but agree. it helps to hear them and feel them close as Cross tries to sleep in an unfamiliar place.
He drifts off rather quickly as exhaustion makes itself known.
-----------
First Drabble
Prev Drabble over here
Next Drabble
And there we have the drabble on how their first night/day went when they started to stay with Crop!
I think they did okay :D
#utmv#realageau#nightmare sans#bad sanses#horror sans#cross sans#dust sans#killer sans#farm sans#drabble#deaged nightmare#We are back at it again!#I got this idea in my head and I could not let it rest#also#the gang sleeps like a pile of cats and you can not let me give up this headcanon#and they are actually getting comfortable and try to take care of themselves!#They are strugglign but trying!#poor cross is a bit anxious though#as he feels like he is failing at this and so feels like a failure#luckily the others are used to this and know how to handle it#You notice how this AU has me in a deadgrip? (:#I will never escape it#I mean probably once i get bored of it but i like it so :D#also yes#I read all the reblog tags and they often make me smile and laugh#let me know your own silly thoughts nad ideas people!!
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Hello! Could you please write 17. Audience for Fern Carmine!
##17 — AUDIENCE.
my kind anon, this ended up longer than intended, hence the header. this feels like a fic in its own right. and now there's some OC mitosis getting thrown into the mix with some background girls. anyways I love you fern carmine and you have a lovely voice <3
—
There’s no singing and dancing in the Army.
That was the first thing her father said to her, looking at the enlistment papers on her desk. There’s no singing, no dancing, no time to stir trouble like you so often do. Maybe he was just angry that, with no sons, he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with sending one of his own off to war. Maybe it’d be his intent to dissuade her.
But then she’d heard her uncle musing about how she’d “wash out” of basic anyway in their sun room, and there was no longer any doubt in her being: she had to go, just to prove that she could, just to make the statement that you don’t tell her what she could and couldn’t do.
So it turns out, both her father and her uncle were wrong. Fern did not wash out of basic training, and there was singing and dancing in the Army. Quite a bit of it, actually, and it seemed to only increase once they hit Europe and the men had their pick of pretty local girls who didn't know them too well.
So really, there’s just an addendum: in order to have singing and dancing and martini glasses with little olives, you must also go up in a fort and risk your life day-in and day-out.
She’s known quite a few men who’ve made worse deals.
The band is playing something quick and brassy — sounds like Goodman. The people on the floor are moving just as quick: Club Mobile girls and airmen, ground crews and local girls, reminding her vaguely of dances that she’d gone to in high school but without the need to spike the punch. A couple of the replacement girls had latched onto her already, not that she minds as she surveys the room and its occupants.
Wakes could be fun in a place like this.
“He’s got that look again,” Lorraine already sounds bewildered, and Fern follows her friend's gaze over to Bucky Egan — knee bouncing, fingers tapping like a kid waiting desperately for everyone else at the table to finish eating so he could run loose. One of the new girls, a gunner named Diane, looks over as well, and with that, her two crewmates Sherry and Kat follow suit.
“Who, Major Egan?” Sherry inquires, “Looks like he’s having a grand ol’ time.”
“Oh he definitely is,” Lorraine turns her head to fix her gaze on the girl once more. “Then he takes the mic stand and we’ve all gotta listen to him sing loud and offkey for the next hour.”
“Be nice,” Fern chides half-heartedly. There were few things that she knew could break Lorraine’s steely disposition: to see her being so bothered by something was amusing in its own right. “He’s mostly on key. Besides, he's got a lot of enthusiasm.” Lorraine gives her a flat stare.
“Uh huh. Sure. Weren’t you a chorus girl or something before? I don’t get why you don’t just take the damn mic stand.” At that, the shortest of the three, Kat, gasps a little and looks at her with a dazzled expression that has Fern grinning to herself.
“You were a chorus girl?”
“My cousin was. She taught me a couple things. I just did choir in school,” Lorraine waves her hand dismissively — chorus girl, choir girl, same thing — “And you could be a whole lot nicer about asking me, Lori.” Fern decides, dragging an olive from the toothpick they’d put in her glass into her mouth. Lorraine stalls a moment, then twists her body towards Fern further to put a hand on her knee, letting out a long, languide sigh.
“Fern, my dear friend, my favorite radio-woman, would you please go on and sing something to spare both me and the rest of the Hundredth from listening to Bucky’s piss-poor rendition of Takin’ the A Train. Again.”
Fern’s lips curl into a smile.
“You mean your dear friend, and favorite, most talented radio-woman.”
“Fern.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll do it…” Fern sits up, and Lorraine lets out a groan of relief. “If you get my special audience on the floor. No fun to sing with no devoted fans in the crowd.” Fern’s smile grows impossibly wider, morphing into the mischievous smirk she can’t fight back when she’s looped into a game of darts or cards. Lorraine’s eyes narrow.
“June’ll never agree to that.”
“Have a little faith, Ivanova. You’ve got three minutes or until Bucky pries that mic stand from my cold, dead hands.” Fern tucks an auburn strand back into its place, then watches Lorraine huff as she gets up to make her rounds to locate the rest of their crew. Some were dancers, others weren’t, and that’d be half the fun of it — at least on Fern’s end of things. That’d been half the fun in school; hatching a new scheme, observing who paired up with who or seeking out the trouble their parents had all sent them away to pointedly keep them from.
On their better days, Thorpe Abbotts could feel a little like a COED dorm.
Fern approaches just as the band’s finishing up another song, waving to catch their attention. Then she gives their conductor a smile.
“I need you to play somethin’ for me,” she declares, before murmuring her request in their conductor’s ear. He nods, parrots the request up and through the band as she sidles up by the mic stand, letting her eyes sweep once more over the room. Some of the guys were sitting in chairs, others in the middle of the floor and some dotting the edges — it’s easy to find Harrie grinning like a crazy woman as Blakely tries to keep her from stepping on his toes. Then she catches Buck yanking Bucky back down into his chair by the shoulder, Viv and Willie next to them. The hand Viv puts on Bucky’s shoulder to keep him sitting makes her snort as she counts heads. Lena, Jo, Carrie… Lorraine’s got June by the arm and June is giving her a look of melodramatic betrayal.
“You gonna sing us a little something, Fernie?” she’d recognize Viv’s goading anywhere, locks eyes with her brightly-grinning captain and flicks her own hair back into place.
“Well I just can’t say no to a face like that, can I?” There’s a few laughs, a couple shouts of encouragement, egging her on. She gives the band a nod as if they’ve rehearsed this a thousand times before and recognizes that loud brassy start as she brings her lips to the mic.
Days can be sunny, with never a sigh,
Don’t need what money can buy.
Birds in the trees sing their day full of song,
Why shouldn’t we sing along?
I’m chipper all the day, happy with my lot.
How do I get that way? Look at what I’ve got.
She makes a sweeping gesture with her free arm, leaning into the music in a way she might not have been allowed to way back when during school choir. Maybe she never got to be a chorus girl, but there were enough show-women and conmen in her family for her to mirror. She could be entertaining and funny like it was second nature — and Fern would still get back in the seat tomorrow all the same if need be.
The music kicks up, nice and quick, she watches Harrie scurry across to one of the clubmobile girls, Helen, and Fern’s grin only grows a little wider once her friends all start trickling onto the floor. She makes a show of walking with the mic stand this way and that, like it’s her own one-woman show. Guys spinning girls around, a couple of those replacements getting the courage to take to the floor with each other or with somebody new - she thinks she catches Sherry’s straw-colored curls among the moving bodies - that’s what Fern liked to see. No point in sitting and stewing on what could happen tomorrow when they could have fun right now.
Jo’s laughing as Douglass gives her a spin about the floor. Inez seems to be taking some type of lead with Carrie, who’s all flushed-cheeks and baby deer steps. Bucky’s like a springboard jumping out of his seat, Viv’s shaking her head no but she’s smiling as he says it. He’s pulling her by the arm anyway onto the floor, spinning her while Buck drags a hand down his face in amusement and Willie’s grinning to herself, as small as it may be. Fern tries not to laugh through her singing, but it’s a sight to see. Her special audience of girls, knowing that she’d only do something like this if it meant she’d get to see them let loose like that.
Fern was a dealmaker after all.
I got rhythm, I got music,
I got my man —
Who could ask for anything more?
I got daisies in green pastures,
I’ve got my man —
Who could ask for anything more?
#*poet writes#I LIKE THEM ALL UR HONOR#yeah maybe there's a bucky/viv pov of this SO WHAT!!#ch: fern carmine#harrie morgan can and will get a dance in with everybody#FERN: the greatest con was the one i ran to get all my friends on the dance floor actually
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— SMALLVILLE, “Craving” (1.07)
#this is such a quick little moment but it's so nice#I love lana's palpable relief when she realizes that lex actually Gets Her#(and as a bonus it spits directly in the face of that ridiculously OOC season 6 thanksgiving scene)#(because lex barely knows lana at this point and he can already tell that this kind of pomp and circumstance makes her uncomfortable!)#smallville#smallvilleedit#lana lang#lex luthor#lexana#dcmultiverse#sv 1x07#my gifs#I keep telling myself that I need to post more than one gifset per week to clear out my drafts but it keeps not happening lol
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they made him study a lot, train, not sleep, and didn’t give him any glasses . It was immediately hell on ice
#along with the whole but you’re special ! you can do it !❤️ pet pet#there are several moments where he is convinced he is going to die and no one takes him seriously#aether has the toxic trait of being overly positive. most complaints from grian ate met with but you can handle it ! you’re stronger !#you’re special. you were chosen by the universe. no one else is like you. better than other players-#and while it can brush his ego sometimes that’s not important !!!!#hearing an angel call you important can be pretty funky to the brain#anyway it takes awhile for him to learn the enchantment for his eyes so he struggles for a bit#i think all this pressure and harsh treatment turns him into a monster#by that I mean ridiculous. powerful. way too fast flying. he’s quick on his feet. his reaction time#they’re strict when he first joins. but lightens up after his first breakdown. mess with his emotional state a little bit#it’s pretty nice for awhile tbh at that point. stable.#still no autonomy tho 🤷♀️ still rules. but better. (their goal)
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"...we could just run away somewhere, the two of us.” (Patreon)
Too many for a single photoset, but since these are a bit on the scribbly side I didn’t want to split them up either ♪ Enjoy the added commentary!
Couple’a cut panels, Max is reacting to Dexter putting his plans in motion here
Very inspired from the ever-so-slightly earlier scene in Helix of Max covering his ears to block out Dexter’s call ♥ Even when things are going his way it’s too overwhelming!
*Summer home. I forgot what he referred to it as lol
Can’t be a meeting if you just ditch entirely!
Surprised by this turn of events, just keeps getting better and better
Of course he had to say something and make Dex mad again haha ♪
Unfortunately his dialogue here was a little too silly for being high and sad and stressed so I had to move it, but he still turned out cute so here it is instead!
Guilty guilty guiltyyyy
Knocked out from the long car trip ♥ He definitely needs it
I love this shot, Dexter leaning in to check on him 💕
He’s so flippin’ cute I fjdsklafd
Very awake all of a sudden, spooked out of sleep. You’re the first ones here, it’s all fine
Head tilts forever ♥
He is still coming down after all
Pathetic, as always
Walked to be within sight of the house so he doesn’t go wandering off
Staff at the summer home?? Sure, why not lol, maybe they’re preparing for the Vyers to come by
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#Max Vyer#Dexter Favin#Apparently I'm not done with this idea hm#I keep making Max's hair too long - I wonder who's the blame for this lol#I mean besides me pfft ♪#These are mostly planning doodles but I like so many of them! And as much as I'm still stuck I don't know how long it'll take#So impatient lol ♫ I want to do everything and have it all done!#I mostly just wanted to get the setup pinned down - where it diverges from Helix - and then little ideas started getting at me#Starting to make a proper shape in my mind!#The rest is pretty much down to the set I posted a while ago of Max imagining a life with Dexter hehe <3#Actually having to deal in reality tho hehe ♪ It's not so nice as just imagining an easy out! There are consequences!#Not all~ negative but consequences nonetheless hehe#I had a surprising amount of fun drawing the car interior from different angles here lol I'm not sure why! I wouldn't normally#Maybe I was just relieved I wasn't drawing the outside pfft#I'm also quite enamoured with how hard Dexter works to keep things peaceable <3 He's skilled at what he does!#Surely he has more than just tricks to keep Max tethered to his lovely cage :) Certain things ready at a moment's notice hehe#Or at least quick to get ready - guess it depends on how paranoid he is#With Max? Probably fairly pfft#I also love Max being pathetic about moving around haha he's getting what he wants but ough walking? Blegh...carry me pls (lol)#That one of Dex escorting him up to the door reminds me so much of a doodle I made ages ago with a couple of my DQIX characters actually#Similar dynamics in a way haha ♪ How fun
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i just had like A Thought, as im making lambda gifs?
its weird to articulate and might not make complete sense, so bear with me
but like... comparing lambda and nu’s sword effects. there’s a cool distinction going on there, which is:
lambda, who is a predecessor but not necessarily a prototype, per se. her swords are more....... bulky and needlessly. clunky. jagged. comparatively. (despite it being called sword summoner EX in fight, ignoring that for the sake of simplicity, it to me just indicates nu existed first playably). i mostly noticed this from crescent saber ngl.
but nu, on the other hand, the actual Proper murakumo unit wielder. everything is more streamlined and (they’re physically the same size but.. SEEMINGLY) compact and efficient.
it just struck me as an interesting detail
#crow.txt#blazblue#blazblueposting#by no means is this a nu appreciation zone fuck nu lives However i just thought it was cool?#there are only a handful that are still Identical and just have a different palette#but i thought it was interesting#iirc this was enacted in like... hm. i'd assume CP? i dont remember if lambda had her own effects in CSEX cause there was no. need?#nu WAS playable but it was literally just unlimited lambda so? hm.#actually i should crack open csex AND cpex because i kinda wanna see if nu in her other mode thing. the one from vanilla cp. facelift thing#if her swords ALSO change aside from just the properties. that's also intresting.#but yeah lambda's to me seem..... more. unrefined? than nu's. which seem more... sleek and rounded#its a nice touch honestly. makes narrative sense yknow?#and also i dont know if its just cause theyre bright ass green and i know a little gremlin catgirl is controlling her#but lambda's are also kinda Gamer Aesthetic which is funny to me. like the angular bits and sharp curves and stuff. you get what i mean.#literally just Look at the sword for exiga nail and tell me that aint some Gamer Shit#also i get why its there i guess but the stupid little... black hole or whatever effect on lambda in fight. is fucking annoying#like yeah yeah to tell the difference at a quick glance but... if you know shit about shit you will know the difference instantly#just from strategy and behavior. but thats just me i guess. like sure their normals are nigh identical but STILL.#the moment specials come into play its literally night and day#and honestly i love lambdas weird shit. shes a zoner But has some pretty decent close options#shes insane. what are you doing. i love you.#and yes lambda gifs incoming probably next weekend
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𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓 ( 04 / ∞ ) not really sure what i was going for with these edits, they were definitely kind of a making it up as i go along sort of deal. regardless, i like how they came out. they’re kinda pretty, even if they don’t totally match up. summery photos with an autumnal veil, i think it’s fun! anyway, i love rika. loml. angel. do not reblog pls & thank u! (unless you know i’d be chill w/it)
#« 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐙𝐄𝐒𝐓 (ʀɪᴋᴀ) » / 「 visuals. 」#« 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐙𝐄𝐒𝐓 (ʀɪᴋᴀ) » / 「 aesthetics. 」#sorry to throw out a dumb little edit instead of writing but i haven't been feeling THAT inspired to do things#so i'll take the motivation i can get!#this was nice though v relaxing to throw together#these were just quick little mini edits i wanted to make in the moment <3
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late night bcbgl update...
peace and love on planet earth :)
read from beginning
update log
#bcbgl#my writing#its a short one with not much going on but its nice and sweet :)#a lot is about to happen. lol. so this is a breather <3#a couple of little breathers and like... Character Moments real quick before some.... wild stuff starts#NOT TO HYPE IT UP TOO MUCH LMAO UHHH I MEAN ITS ALL UNINTERESTING FLUFF FOREVER DONT WORRY ABOUT IT#GO INTO EXPECTING SILLY GOOFY FLUFF AND BE PLEASANTLY SURPRISED WHEN OTHER STUFF HAPPENS SOMETIMES
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