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minnaci · 3 months

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CALM AFTER THE STORM

contents: nanami kento x gn!reader, jjk s2 spoilers (shibuya incident), hurt/comfort, reader is implied to have died years before the shibuya incident, cooking together as a love language, kissing, reunions, death

what is death if not a new beginning?

or, nanami makes his journey to the afterlife. it's not so bad.

it's strange, nanami thinks. he had forgotten what it meant to move without pain, and yet here he is, dancing without a care in the world. his joints don't crack, his knees don't ache. he could have sworn he had injured his eye, and yet, here he is, witnessing the ocean in its full, unfettered glory.

pantai cenang is beautiful. idyllic. not a curse in sight. nanami takes a moment to soak it all in. fine white sand. crystal blue water. coconut trees. there's a distinct lack of people— surprising, given how popular the beach is with tourists— but nanami knows better than to question such a blessing.

there's a little cottage in the distance, one that doesn't exist on any map. in his heart, nanami knows you're inside, humming as you wash the vegetables you'd picked from the garden. it's been too long since he's seen you, held you in his arms. months. years. his heart squeezes. ah, that familiar ache— yearning. he quickens his pace.

absence makes the heart grow fonder. in his mind's eye, you twirl in the sand with him, feet nimble. he spins, more graceful than he’s ever been. he soars. he falls. fighting is dancing in the same way that the waves batter against the shore— beauty and violence, art and destruction.

nanamin! a shout echoes across the water, and nanami lowers his arms, turning on instinct to the familiar voice. even in his retirement, it seems that he can still hear the voice of his loudest student.

ah, he's exhausted— this is what he gets for indulging in the sun. he can sense your frown already. you'd always fretted over him, all soft hands and gentle touches.

the scent of blood rises on the wind, but there is no fear. even sharks need to eat. such is the way life and death dance together.

nanamin! the voice shouts again, or maybe it’s an echo of the first call, bounding across the surf. his fatigue overwhelms him like falling in love— slow, then all at once.

he is so, so tired of fighting.

faster than he can comprehend, there’s a firm pressure against his stomach. a mosquito buzzes around his face. he swats it away idly. there’s something he’s forgetting. something important.

nanamin!

ah. that’s right. he doesn’t have to worry anymore.

“itadori,” he says, voice carrying over the waves. “you’ve got it from here.”

there’s a gut-wrenching snap in his core. it severs something vital, and yet… he’s never felt more alive. he is a hollow-boned creature, like the birds. finally, the weight of the world is no longer his to bear.

your presence calls to him, draws him in from across the beach, and he turns towards your siren’s song. his lips form the shape of your name. in the blink of an eye, his hand is on the doorknob to your cottage.

"i'm home."

you whip around so fast that nanami almost fears your neck will snap clean in two. “kento?”

“it’s me.”

there’s a split second where the world freezes. the light from the late early evening sun dances amongst dust motes. your lips part, and nanami trembles with the force of his want for you.

then, like the tide to the moon, like planets to a star, you crash together. you fly across the room into nanami’s waiting arms, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. when he kisses you, you taste like salt, like grief, like joy. it makes him want to kiss you more, kiss you harder, so he does.

you pull away, and nanami only just resists the urge to chase your lips.

"you're... so early. i didn't expect to see you here for a few more decades." you cup his face, fingers tracing over the familiar curves of his cheeks, his jaw. nanami turns his face into the affectionate touches.

"and leave you to eat dinner alone?" nanami leans in again, kissing the tears from your cheeks in a few quick, fluttering brushes of lips against skin. “i’m officially retired. where else would i want to be, if not with you?”

“you’re so romantic today.” there’s a choked quality to your voice.

oh, nanami thinks. it’s really been too long. “i’m romantic all the time for you.”

“i missed you.” apropos of nothing, the words tear from your chest, like you can’t hold them back anymore. your face crumples. heat pricks behind nanami’s eyes as you bury your face against his chest, frame trembling with the effort of holding back your tears. “i missed you so much.”

comfort has never been nanami’s forte, but with you, it’s as easy as breathing to hug you closer, to make soft, soothing sounds, to rub gentle circles over your back.

“i missed you, too,” he says, a confession. the world swims in his vision. he blinks rapidly. “more than you could ever know.”

he rocks you back and forth, back and forth, holding you as you shake apart in his arms. there’s no pressure to perform, no shareholders to impress, no curses to exorcise. only you, and your love, and your touch.

and he gets to have this forever.

nanami’s not sure how long you stay there, only that his skin still hungers for yours when you press a teary kiss to his cheek and maneuver out of his hold. you sniffle, wipe your eyes, and offer him a familiar apron with a watery smile. “here. you still remember how to cook, right, mr. salaryman sorcerer?”

“what are we making?” nanami takes the proffered apron. i’m the cook, it reads. he glances down at your apron, already knowing what it says. kiss the cook. the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“hainan chicken rice,” you say. “when in malaysia…”

“of course,” he says. “pass me the knife.”

it’s been a while since he’s handled a sharp blade. the handle sits in the palm of his hand— rough, worn smooth by years of use. a tool of the home. he finds that he likes the weight of it.

the rhythm of cooking is an intimate waltz. one, two, three. he crushes the garlic under the flat of his knife, then minces it. bits of garlic cling to his fingers, and he picks it off, shapes it into a pile. the papery peel is swept aside, to be returned to the earth.

the edge of his blade is used to peel ginger. short, quick strokes— not a motion wasted. when he’s done, the ginger’s aroma tickles his nose, as sharp as his knife. he slices it thinly and places it next to the garlic.

you heat oil in a pan as he works, humming a low melody. he hasn’t heard it in years, but it’s as warm and familiar as the bed you share. when the oil starts to sizzle, you add in his minced garlic, his sliced ginger. the scent spreads through the room, savory and safe.

you produce rice from a small rice cooker. it’s not ideal to use freshly cooked rice in fried rice dishes, but nanami has every confidence you’ll manage. while you stir in the chicken fat and bullion, he looks around for something else to set his blade to.

cucumbers, fresh from your garden outside. nanami taps one gently, a faint smile pulling at the edges of his lips at the hollow, satisfying thock. it’s quick work to peel them, revealing pale green flesh. it’s even quicker work to slice them. he loses himself in the task, in the comfort of your presence, and lets his muscle memory take over.

“are you using your technique on those poor cucumbers?” there’s a smile in your voice. nanami glances down at the cucumbers, and sure enough, they’re sliced in uneven fractions of 7/10.

the motions of violence are not so easily forgotten, but true peace lasts only in the memory of war. nanami gives you a small smile, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and resumes cutting his cucumbers— evenly, this time. even the sharpest of blades can be repurposed.

dinner is a quiet affair. two plates, two cups of tea, two settings at the table. conversation flows as easily as wine. your foot nudges against his calf— once, twice. he nudges back, delighting in the radiant smile that you can’t seem to hold back.

both of your plates sit empty upon the table. the last dregs of tea cool in your cups. cleaning up is quick, made quicker by long-established routine: he washes, you dry. on the last of the dishes, he leans into you— a silent request. you lean back— acquiescence.

he will never tire of touching you. instinct is a trembling little creature in his heart, and you are the soft hands that soothe him, letting him pull you flush against his chest. minutes drip into hours, and the sun begins its slow descent as he cradles you in his arms. somehow, you migrate to bed, and then everything is warmth and love and perfection.

these quiet delights, this tender intimacy— nanami revels in it, revels in this little life, this future you share.

“the sun is setting,” you murmur, a tender look in your eyes. you’re a vision painted in gold light, an angel in soft sheets. he could soak in you forever. “it’s almost time to go home.”

“is home as good as this?” he takes your hand, presses a kiss to the back of it.

“it’s better.” you slip out of bed, and he follows you outside. a gentle breeze ruffles his hair, brings him the scent of salt and the sea. the sun dips lower on the horizon, and yet, the light only brightens. it’s not harsh, but a gentle, beckoning warmth.

“are you ready, kento?”

“you’ll be with me?” it wouldn’t be a home without you.

“i will. i promise.” you take his hand, lean in, press a kiss to his cheek. tension drains from his shoulders like the low tide. a home with you is more than he could have ever dreamed of. “let’s go home.”

together, you walk into the light. neither of you look back.

tags: @angelshub @enchantedforest-network

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk spoilers #writemin!#+nanamin

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littleredwing89 · 11 months

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SUNSET PARADISE

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Fluff. Mild jealousy.

A/N: This is a one shot following the series ‘PRINCE OF GOTHAM’. Pretty much picks up where they left off - an epilogue of sorts. A re-write of an Intern series one shot but remoulded for Jason x Reader x- ENJOY ALL oxo

----

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore, carrying the salty smell of the sea in the breeze made you relax instantly as you rested against the balcony railing. You pushed your oversized sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose and smiled, soaking in the early morning sun rays.

You looked out across the horizon, watching the glowing orange sun rising from the crystal blue waters. The light sparkled over the waves, making it look like tiny sapphires blinking at you. It was serene. Like nothing you’d ever seen before.

The coconut scent of your sun lotion lingered in the air and you arched your back, stretching out. You adjusted the strap of your halter neck bikini, untwisting it so it sat comfortably against your sun kissed skin.

A wolf whistle startled you, “Well, what a view”, a deep, gravelly voice rasped behind you, as the glass door slid open.

You turned to see Jason smirking cheekily at you. He clearly wasn’t talking about the gorgeous sunrise as he eyed the white bikini bottoms you were wearing. The material clinging to your curves perfectly.

“You picked a beautiful location”, you smiled, letting your eyes trail down his bare chest, a line of dark hair trailed down from his naval, disappearing into his shorts. He was bronzing nicely in the Caribbean sun.

“Only the best for you princess”.

“Smooth”, you giggled and turned your head back out to the sunrise. The sky looked like an artist's palette, colours streaking across majestically.

Moving close behind you, Jason slid his hands up the backs of your thighs before running his finger under the edge of your bikini bottoms.

“You look absolutely stunning”, he whispered into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing against it. You shivered and pushed back against him, feeling his hard cock through his beach shorts.

He growled and snapped the material against your ass. Sliding his fingers around your front, he brushed over your clit. Teasing slowly. You whined loudly before biting down on the inside of your cheek. Suppressing any more noises. You were out on the balcony, anyone could hear you both. And see you.

“Jay…”, you murmured, resting your head back against his shoulder.

“Shh”, he nipped along the side of your neck, letting his tongue soothe over your skin, “You don’t want to attract any unwanted attention, do you princess?”.

His fingers slipped your bikini pants to one side, dipping them through your silky wet folds. Jason cursed under his breath and muttered, “Always so ready for me”.

“Jay…please don’t tease”, you purred and circled your hips, catching his thick cock with each movement.

“You want me to take you out here for anyone to see?”, he teased, nibbling your shoulder, thrusting his clothed cock against your ass, “Is that what you want princess?”.

“Yes”, you moaned, frustration seeping into your tone as Jason languidly rubbed over your clit, making the coil in your stomach twist slowly.

“Please Jason…don’t make me beg”.

You heard him shuffling behind you, shoving his shorts down enough to free his throbbing cock. He teased it through your sopping folds from behind and grunted, “Fuck, you’re so wet”.

“I always am for you”, you whispered airily, wanting to play him at his own game. If he was going to tease you, you’d do it back.

“Princess…”, he warned and gripped your hips, the metal loops on your bikini bottoms pressing against his calloused skin.

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as Jason eased his length into you inch by inch. The delicious sting of him stretching you sent waves of desire up your spine.

“Oh!”, the soft moan left your lips without thinking and Jason clasped his hand over your mouth.

“We’ve got to be quiet”, he growled and drove into your pussy hard, enjoying the way your wet walls fluttered around his cock.

You licked the flesh of his palm and let him stifle your sobs of pleasure as Jason fucked you from behind, pressed up against the balcony railings.

“Fuck”, he pressed his face into your hair and inhaled deeply. The subtle smell of coconuts and pineapple filled his senses. He groaned against you, angling his hips so the head of his cock would hit your g spot.

You cried his name into his hand and wrapped your hands behind you, fisting your fingers into the back of his hair. You tugged as you felt your orgasm beginning to burst.

“Go on”, the deep timber of his voice rattled in your ear, “Cum for me princess”.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his thick cock continued to drive into your wet heat. The orgasm ripped through you in a short, sharp burst making you sting buzz with desire.

His hand captured all of the sweet sounds he drew from you. The sounds he normally drank in. Your skin rippled with goosebumps, soaking in the early morning heat from both the sun and Jason.

Feeling the way you contracted around him, Jason groaned loudly into the skin of your neck and released his hot seed, deep into your pussy. His breath fanned down your flesh, scorching as it went. He hummed in delight and moved his hand from your lips. Jason let his palm travel down your chest, over the curve of your breasts before settling on your toned stomach.

“Nice way to start the morning”, his voice was more gravelly now. Your fingers threaded through his dark hair.

“Mmmhmm”, your mind still reeling from your climax, you couldn’t form your words properly. You pressed backwards into his solid chest and sighed happily.

----

The midday sun was blazing, surrounded by a clear, dazzling blue sky. You soaked up the rays, feeling the stress dissipate out of your pores. You had been right about a vacation. This was just what you both needed. Sun, sea and tranquillity. You sighed happily, sinking further into the double sunbed. Jason’s hand rested on your knee, drawing patterns into your flesh.

“Do you want another drink?”, you twisted your body to his, letting your knee press against his thigh.

“I’m good princess”, his gravelly voice rasped as he stretched his arms above his head, yawning softly.

“I’ll be back in a minute”, you leaned across, kissing his cheek.

“Mmhmm”, he hummed.

Leaving Jason lounging back against the soft, plush white sunbed, you strolled across the pool side towards the tiki hut style bar, thankful for the brief shade and fan above your head.

“What can I get you miss?”, the bartender gave you a warm smile, hands resting on the wooden worktop.

“Strawberry daiquiri please”, you swept a lock of hair behind your ear before sitting at one of the stools. The bartender turned quickly and began preparing your colourful drink.

You tipped your head back gently, looking across the pool towards Jason. He was still sprawled out across the sun bed, his thick arm bent above his head. The sun oil you’d helped him apply earlier made his body glisten in the rays, his muscles even more defined. You bit your bottom lip, tugging it between your pearly teeth, sinful images flicking through your mind.

“Well, I’ll be damned…”, you heard a cheeky voice behind you, startling you from your train of thought, “Of all the hotels you had to walk into, you had to walk into this one”.

Well fuck.

Wade fucking Wilson.

You turned your head towards the voice, your eyes meeting him. He stood leisurely against the bar, a bright grin plastered across his handsome face. You could hardly believe it. Seriously. Of all the people, in all the places. It had to be him. You glanced over his figure briefly, noting the pair of black swim shorts he was wearing. They had tiny silver crosshairs embroidered on delicately and each time the sun caught them they glinted. His shorts complimented the tanned glow of his skin nicely. His short, dark blond hair was messy, a few strands dropping down into his reflective, aviator shades, hiding his usual sparkling eyes. You remembered, momentarily, why you’d agreed to go on a date with him.

Until he bailed at the last minute.

“Someone’s seen Casablanca one too many times”, you rolled your eyes playfully, a smirk tugging the corner of your full lips.

Wade moved closer slightly, the scent of his aftershave was strong as it surrounded you, along with the mix of sun cream, “Gotta make sure I'm suave for the ladies”.

You laughed, “Very suave of you to stand up dates”.

Above the top of his shades, you saw a slight crease in his eyebrows, “Awww come on, are you still mad about that, sweetheart?”.

“Considering, I dodged a bullet? Not really”, you looked down at your freshly manicured nails, the deep red really was an excellent choice on the technicians behalf.

He sucked in a gulp of air loudly, putting his hand over his heart dramatically, pretending to fall backwards in pain, “Ouch! You wound me”.

You poked the tip of your nail against his solid chest, before imitating a shooting gun with your thumb, “I only do what you deserve, Wilson”.

Wade captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips before kissing it playfully, “You know I was sorry about the whole thing, sweetheart”.

“Oh, I'm sure you were”.

“I just wish you’d given me a second chance…I tried to call you…”.

You were grateful for the heat which already had your skin flushed, hiding the blush rising to your cheeks. You tugged your hand back before occupying it with your drink the bartender had left for you.

Even though he was wearing shades, you could feel his eyes burning into you. Drinking in every inch of your bikini clad body. You suddenly felt incredibly naked under his gaze, shuffling slightly on the stool.

“Eyes up here, hot shot”, you pointed to your face, trying to cool down the situation.

“Can you really blame me when you’re wearing that?”, he retorted, hand waving over your body as he whistled appreciatively, “Wish you’d worn that at the Iceberg…”.

You were about to reply before you noticed his entire body stiffen. The easy going manner radiating off him was replaced with something more soldier-like. Wade straightened up, taking a step back from you.

You looked over your shoulder and spotted Jason striding across the pool side, his face knitted with an irritated scowl. Sunglasses propped up on the top of his head. Even in a pair of board shorts, Jason still managed to look intimidating. The second he reached you both, he immediately wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you away from Wade.

“Is everything ok?”, you pressed your palm to his chest softly, looking up at him as he towered next to you.

“Everything's fine”, he dismissed before turning to Wade, “Never expected to see you here, Wilson”.

Wade’s demeanour had changed drastically, he shrugged and looked around the resort, “I control the security operation here, I gotta check it’s running smoothly from time to time”.

Jason’s fingers gripped into your hip, “You better get to it then, huh? Don’t want any more undesirable characters in here, do you?”.

Wade looked directly at Jason before glancing down at you, huffing under his breath, “Enjoy your holiday sweetheart, if you need anything, give me a call…you still have my number”.

Surprising you and infuriating Jason more, he leaned down and kissed your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips. He gave you a sly smirk before heading out of the bar towards the hotel lobby.

Jason was rigid next to you, so you snuggled closer into his side, fingertips tracing the vein on his forearm. As his posture softened slowly, he turned and pressed a rough kiss to your cheek, his stubble grazing your skin.

You giggled quietly, “You don’t need to be jealous”.

“I’m not jealous”, he growled.

“My hip's gonna bruise if you keep holding it like that”, you murmured.

He retracted his grip instantly, “M’sorry princess”, his thumbs rubbed circles over the marks as he pressed his nose into your hair, the tropical scents soothing him.

“It’s ok, you can turn caveman mode off”.

Jason moved his hand to your ass, cupping the swell of it before squeezing it.

You laughed under your breath, “You know you have nothing to worry about”.

“Can't I just feel you up in public? Is that a crime now?”, he pressed a kiss to your temple, hand still resting on the curve of your ass, fingers occasionally dipping under the fabric of your bottoms.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, “You know Wade isn’t watching us anymore, don’t you?”.

He huffed bringing you in front of him and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your warm body into his. He never got tired of the way your frame fitted against his. How you sank into him naturally, like you’d always meant to be his.

You slipped your arms around his neck and toyed with the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes closed as he soaked in the bliss taking over his circuitry.

“How about…”, you whispered, “We spend the afternoon back in our private villa and I’ll make us some cocktails?”.

He ghosted his lips over yours, the faint outline of a smile playing on his mouth, “That princess, sounds like a very good idea”.

Your hands travelled down the front of his body slowly, before entwining in his, pulling him back towards your villa, “Let’s go handsome”.

----

You dropped your beach bag by the side of the villa door as you both made your way into the house, before stepping across towards the mini bar.

“Sloe sazerac?”, you looked over your shoulder at him, quirking an eyebrow up.

“Perfect”, he rumbled, leaving his phone on the kitchen worktop, watching as you sashayed away.

The ice cubes clinked as they hit the bottom of the glass, the sound oddly satisfying. You hummed under your breath, grabbing the bottle of whiskey, pouring a generous helping into both chasers. You could feel his stare boring into you, scorching your insides. His presence looming as you dropped the curled lemon into the alcohol.

“You’re hovering, why don’t you go make yourself comfortable?”.

Within seconds, you felt his hands gliding over your thighs, up and down, inching higher with each stroke, “I think the drinks can wait princess…”.

“But I’m making your favourite”, you protested.

Jason stayed silent, waiting for you to finish the cocktail, running his palms over every inch of skin he could reach. You shivered at the feel of his rough hands, sucking in steadying breaths whilst you finished your drinks.

You left his drink on the bar whilst you sipped at yours, watching him intently, eyes burning with want.

“Aren't you going to drink yours?”.

His gaze, practically black, flickered before Jason grabbed the drink, pouring the deep orange liquid over your chest. You gasped at the icy cool sensation of the alcohol dripping over your sun kissed body.

“What are you - oh!”.

Dipping his head down to your chest, Jason dragged his tongue over your flesh, groaning at the distinct taste of whiskey mixed with you. He discarded the glass carelessly to the side, focusing his attention only on you. His thumbs catching in the metal loops of your bikini bottoms.

You gasped and grabbed his hair as he slid down your body, his lips mapping you, the bitter lemon infused with the burn of the liquor. He settled on his knees, looking up at you with lustful eyes. Jason pushed your bikini bottoms down your long legs before tracing his tongue to your core. He blew over your clit, enjoying the way your body reacted. Goosebumps spreading like wildfire over your skin.

You fisted your hands in his hair, moaning quietly. Jason smirked, lifting you up onto the mini bar, pushing your thighs further apart. His growl was primal when he saw the slick glistening between your folds.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes, whining his name softly, “Jay…”.

“I know princess, I’ve got you”, he nipped your inner thigh, soothing his hot tongue over the light sting from his bite.

“Jay…please…”.

Hearing you say his name, in that breathy little voice, made the front of his shorts tighter and his ego soar.

“That's right”, he laid a soft kiss to your clit, “You’re mine”.

“A-Always”, you stuttered out, feeling the desperation bubble in the pit of your stomach. You needed him. Craved him.

Jason growled against your core before delving into you, his tongue licking long stripes through your folds. You whined, drowning in the overwhelming desire flooding your veins. Pleasure wracked your body in sharp pulses with every flick of Jason’s skilful tongue. You sobbed his name and tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him pressed into your pussy.

He smirked against your core, groaning deeply when your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging sharply when he hit all your sensitive spots.

Whining his name, you rolled your hips, eager to have him impossibly closer. You cried out when Jason slipped two fingers into your pussy. He thrust them in easily, enjoying the slick noises from your core.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please!”, you begged, eyes clamped shut tightly.

His lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue over it. He free hand bracketed your hip, holding you in place.

“Oh god!”, you screamed, fisting your hands tightly in his hair as you hit your peak. Jason growled against your pussy, lapping up your slick. His fingers slowed as he pulled back from your folds, looking up at you darkly. He loved the way you looked after you’d just orgasmed.

“Jay…”, you murmured, trailing your hands down his cheek.

He gave you a smile before kissing back up your inner thighs. Hands caressing up the outside of your thighs.

“What - oh!”, you gasped loudly and tipped your head back as Jason’s lips connected with your clit briefly.

“I think you’ve got another one for me princess”, the deep timber of his voice rattled up your spine.

Still shaking from your last orgasm, your body broke out in violent tremors as Jason focused on your clit. Both of his hands wrapped around your hips, gripping hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises.

“Fuck! Fuck! Jason!!”, you sobbed.

It was too much but not enough at the same time. You wanted to push him away but pull him closer. The intensity of it firing deep in the pit of your stomach. You shattered, his name a mangled prayer from your plush lips. You felt your body buzz from the euphoria. Panting, you heaved oxygen into your lungs, chest rising and falling heavily.

Briefly, you were unaware of your surroundings until you felt Jason standing between your spread thighs, littering kisses across your bare shoulder.

Shakily, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nails dragging up it, teasing the bottom of his hairline.

“I’m not done with you yet”, he murmured into the junction of your neck, grinding his hard, clothed cock into your pussy.

Tightening your legs around his waist, you hauled yourself up against his heated body, pressing into it, hands gripping his back, “What are you waiting for then?”.

Jason could feel the cocktail still staining your skin, giving it a slightly sticky quality along with the gleam of sweat from the humidity and your orgasm.

He gave you a wink before wrapping an arm around your lower back, lifting you off the bar completely. He grabbed your chaser glass then headed you both into the master bedroom, nibbling your lips along the way before dropping you down onto the thin cotton sheets.

You watched him place the practically empty glass on the bedside table, you frowned a little unsure what he was up to. Your thoughts halted as he knelt on the bed, his bulky form towering over you. Jason encased your body with his, his large frame covering you easily. He kissed you with a fiery passion, tongue dancing along yours.

You whimpered into his mouth, letting him swallow the sounds. His hands traced up the sides of your body, stopping when they found their prize. He grinned against your swollen lips as he tugged the bikini tie free, ripping the offending material off your body. Your breasts bounced free and Jason grunted feeling your hardening nipples scratch across his bare chest.

Tearing himself from your sinful lips, he reached up past your head and you heard the familiar clink of ice cubes. You felt the coil in your stomach twist with anticipation and desire. When Jason settled back down between your spread legs, you noticed a rapidly melting ice cube pinched between his long fingers.

“Close your eyes”, his voice was thick with lust as he openly admired your naked body.

“Yes Sir”, you whispered, letting your eyelids flutter shut.

The first touch was hot. Jason’s heated mouth peppered your collarbone with searing kisses. You moaned, letting your hands explore the muscles of his back.

He pulled back and you instantly missed the feel of his kisses. You huffed in protest and he chuckled.

The next touch had you arching off the back of the bed, gasping loudly. Bitter coolness dragged down the top of your breast, following the curve of it before circling over your nipple. Your skin erupted in shivers and you could stop the purr from your throat.

Your nipple pebbled, the ice cube numbing your skin.

“Jason!”, you mewled and writhed on the bed as he replaced the ice cube with his scorching mouth.

His teeth tugged your nipple, releasing it after a moment before flicking his tongue over it. Jason repeated the action on your other nipple, growling against your skin at your intense reactions.

You shuddered, goosebumps spreading over your preening flesh. The dire contrast between the blazing heat and the bitter ice was euphoric. Your mind felt fuzzy from the overload of stimulation. You could feel the slick dripping from your core, aching to feel his cock driving into you.

“Jason…Ah! Please!!”, you pleaded as you felt the ice trail down the valley between your breasts, along your stomach and over the dip of your naval.

Jason followed the watery path with his tongue, stopping every so often to press kisses to your body.

“Please Jay…”, you begged, your voice husky with need.

“Please what?”, his voice was smug, enjoying how he’d made you a whimpering mess with a tiny ice cube.

Frustration seeped into your bones and you opened your eyes to look at Jason.

He had to admit, the fire burning behind your eyes made his stomach twist. The debauched look curling the beautiful features on your face. You tried to glare at him as much as you could, but the overload of pleasure made it difficult.

“Tell me what you want princess”.

The ice cube had melted into the last remnant of water, letting Jason’s calloused hand caress your bare skin.

You whined, “Jay…please, I need you, I need you now”.

“Need what?”, he cooed playfully, nipping the flesh below your navel.

You moaned loudly and shivered. You hated but loved the way he teased you. Drawing out the deepest of desires from within you.

“Fuck me Jason, I need you to fuck me”.

Sliding back up your body slowly, he shuffled effortlessly out of his swim shorts, his thick cock springing free. There was a soft pap as it bounced against his abs. He fisted his shaft several times before teasing the head through your sopping folds, causing you to moan unabashedly, throwing your head back against the soft pillows.

He thrust into you easily, bottoming out instantly. He grunted into your ear, his hot breath fanning down your neck, “You feel so fuckin’ good princess”.

You purred his name and wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, locking him in place before coiling your arms around his neck.

“You always take my cock so well”, Jason growled, biting your earlobe. His hot lips travelled to the sensitive spot behind your ear, kissing and sucking to leave his marking.

You didn’t reply, words lost in your mind. If you’d tried to speak, it’d have been incoherent murmuring. Something which would’ve further fuelled his already inflated ego. All you could focus on was the feel of his pulsating cock stretching your pussy.

He continued to drive into you, harder with every thrust, groaning your name against your neck. You mewled in response, legs gripping him tighter as he angled himself deeper, hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Jay! Oh! Oh fuck!”, you sobbed, nails digging into his shoulder blades, dragging down his back.

He smirked and picked up his pace, hammering into you wildly. Jason knew he’d have your scratch marks streaking down his back but he didn’t care one little bit. He’d happily wear them with pride for the rest of the vacation.

“Are you going to cum for me princess?”, he teased, his hand snaking between your glistening bodies to rub over your throbbing clit.

You whimpered, your velvet walls fluttering around his thick shaft. You could feel the brim of your orgasm ready to shatter.

“You want me to fill that pretty little pussy?”, Jason ground out, fucking you with a brutal pace, growling when he saw your eyes behind to roll into the back of your head.

“P-Please”, you managed to force out of your lips before you felt the euphoria bursting through your body. Your vision blurred as your climax hit you with a delirious intensity, shudders took over your body.

The way your body reacted to him pushed Jason over the edge into his own powerful end and he released his hot seed, deep into your core. He cursed loudly and grunted your name before stilling, resting the weight of his body on his elbows.

----

Soaking in the afterglow, you threaded your fingers through his sweat matted locks. A content rumble vibrated from his chest before he planted delicate kisses along your collarbone. You purred happily and leaned into his touch instinctively, enjoying the way he made you feel.

After a few more moments, he dropped onto the bed, tugging you onto his chest, pressing you tightly into him.

“We should come on vacation more often”, he rasped, curling a strand of your hair around his finger carefully.

Your hand stroked over his chest, and down his stomach tracing the dark line of hair, “I told you, you’d enjoy it - you should know by now my ideas are always right”.

“I suppose”, he teased, kissing your forehead softly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but Jason caught the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“I think next time, we should go to Switzerland”.

“Not a chance”.

“Why not?!”, you looked up at him with a scandalous look. Only seconds ago he’d agreed that this was a great idea!

“Because”, he rolled you over, trapping you underneath him, “I can’t fuck you outside there”.

----

#ceo!jason Todd x reader #ceo!jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader insert #ceo!jason todd x reader insert #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #red hood imagine #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader insert

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smallmariofindings · 1 year

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Scottish heavy metal band Alestorm released an album called “Curse of the Crystal Coconut” in 2020, which references Donkey Kong 64 by featuring the same Crystal Coconut design as seen in that game. In addition, the background contains further Donkey Kong references such as Kremlings, a barrel, bananas, the “DK” symbol, etc.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source

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iamthekaijuking · 11 months

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youtube

This is made by the same guy who did the curse of the crystal coconut animation

God, the animation is so smooth, and this original song is as good as Disney renaissance hits like Be Prepared or Hellfire. It’s been stuck in my head since it came out.

I also love the idea of King K Rool coming back into the franchise after essentially being forced out of it for 15 years and having his role replaced, and him being extremely pissed about it and becoming more loony. To the point he almost becomes like the joker to Donky Kong’s Batman.

#animation #donkey kong #donkey kong country #king k rool #Alex Henderson animation #Youtube

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 1 year

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After several posts about Lance as a father, and also after a funny comment from @bored-farmer about The First Slash clan as a babysitters for Lance and the Farmer's child, I decided to write a small... fic? If you can call it.

In this story, I left the child and the Farmer neutral (like son or daughter, and Farmer pronounce what you want), so that it fits the other OCs in any way they want to come up with!

Also, the SVE Wiki doesn't have a similar pronunciation description for Guild members, so I made the classic Edmund, Drake and Gale - he/him, and for Brianna - she/her (simple because it's hard to translate others pronunciations in my language, but feel free to give in your own HC pronunciations that you want!)

Story under the cut! And feel free for feedbacks 😃 (and sorry for mistakes, English is still hard)

Warnings: language

________________________________________

Ah, Fable Reef...

Lonely, small, but still such a beautiful and lively island in the middle of a vast ocean, far from the mainland. Few people know that the headquarters of the famous Guild called The First Slash Clan is located here. For them, this is a very convenient post for protecting the ocean from any impending threat. And they chose a very good place - what a beautiful views from this island, truly admire! A breathtaking sunset, exotic palm trees with growing coconuts, crystal clear water with a huge school of fish around, colorful corals, local fauna in the form of small crabs, crustaceans, mollusks...

"Where is... Where is that brat!? Where? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking hell!"

"Language!"

Hmm, yes. These voices are, one might say, another representative of the "fauna" on this island. Namely - the brave members of the Guild mentioned earlier.

"Cursing and shouting won't help the cause, Brianna, - Edmund tried to remain calm and hide his worries in front of his friend and colleague, although in the current situation, it became much more difficult to do this every minute. - Moreover, the child can be nearby and hear all your scolding"

"Believe me, this little asshole still don’t understand shit no matter what am I saying", - Brianna snapped back at Edmund at his moralizing. She did not want to be rude to him, but her nerves began to slowly surrender.

To be honest, the situation was laughably absurd. Losing four-year-old child of Lance and his partner on a small island...

And how did it all start? And it started on Wednesday, everything bad always happened on Wednesday, Brianna thought. It seemed to be an ordinary day, nothing remarkable, nothing foreshadowed trouble. But then she, Drake, Edmund and Gale got an order from Jolyne to watch the Lance's baby for one day. Second-in-command and his spouse had to go to a very important meeting with Magnus and Camilla for almost the whole day, while Jolyne herself went to a meeting of the Guilds on the issue of a torpedo trout. The child was left in the care of four adventurers with Gale at the head, and it seem that it would not be so difficult to take care of the kid. If they only knew how this event will turned out...

For half a day everything was alright: the kid was not particularly capricious, was full, clean, sitting on a pillow in the main hall and drew something with crayons on paper, while the adults were in the same hall doing their usual things. And then bam - and the child disappeared after the magic cotton. Parents, of course, warned that the baby may have small manifestations of magic. The key word is "small".

At the age of four, to already manage, albeit not consciously, chaotically teleport - a talented little one, truly a child of Lance and Farmer. The distance of the teleporters was short, literally two meters from the old point. But before the adults had time to pick up the child, the fidget with a small cotton disappeared from the hall of the headquarters completely. Adults had no choice but to start searching for the "missing little magician".

Brianna couldn't understand why Lance can't just hire a nanny in their hometown. Why should they be the babysitters? Ah yeah, because it's a magical child, with the "gift". It is unlikely that the nanny would be able to keep track of the baby, who would cast mini fireballs or levitate throughout the house. But at least in this case it was possible to push the blame on the nanny, or the same parents. It's not good to think like that, but she's just so tired.

While she and Edmund were standing on the sandy shore and exchanging not too pleasant words, a worried Drake ran up to them:

"I've already searched everywhere, - he said, out of breath, - the main hall, our rooms, the rest room, the armory, the closet with elixirs, combed the entire coast - I can't find the little one!"

Poor Drake, it would seem, he is ready to burst into tears on the spot from the hopelessness of the situation and from the realization that he let his dear friend and idol down.

"Hush Drake, do not lose heart. The kid should be nearby, maybe they just accidentally became invisible. This happened to me as a child when I spilled a potion on myself" - Edmund, hearing the sad tone of the pink-haired Adventurer, began to calm him down.

"You were already a daredevil then, weren't you, Edmund?" - Brianna, of course, will not miss the opportunity to tease het friend, especially since this will somehow help dilute the directed situation. To her caustic comment in his address, Edmund decided to tactfully keep silent.

"Shall we recheck the main hall and rooms then? I feel that the child is somewhere nearby, but I cannot find it", - Drake suggested.

"Uugh.. - Brianna sighed wearily and rubbed her temples in hopes of easing her headache. - Ok, let's do it. But we also need Gale to help us too. Where the hell did he go?!"

"I saw him in the armory, he then teleported somewhere. Maybe he's looking for the shore again? Or..."

"Greetings, my dear friends" - A familiar voice came from behind.

The three adventurers gasped in surprise and abruptly turned their heads towards the source of the sound. Lance was already approaching them, a smile on his face, clearly pleased to see his friends. Behind him was his partner, beloved Farmer, who smiled as broadly and sincerely at their friends from the other Guild. Apparently, poor trio forgot that the parents always teleport silently to the island.

"We apologize for the delay. The meeting dragged on, mostly due to Camilla, who couldn't keep her ass still and interrupt and tease everyone" - The Farmer looked apologetically at the trio of people in blue raincoats.

Lance laughed softly at his soulmate's comment and said, "Careful, my love, or Camilla might hear you"

Then the gallant adventurer looked again at his three colleagues:

"I hope our little one hasn't given you much trouble?"

"I missed my baby so much! - The Farmer said impatiently. - So, where is our precious little treasure?"

Brianna looked at Lance and Farmer like she was seeing them for the first time. Edmund tried to find words that would not cause a sharp panic and the inclusion of the "a la crush-break" action. Drake, on the other hand, was standing, looking at Lance, and small, shiny water droplets appeared on the corners of his eyes. Another second - and the young adventurer is about to cry.

Edmund decided to break the silence: "Lance, the baby is now, uhm, is..."

"Here"

All five turned towards the entrance to the Guild building. Calm Gale approached them, with a chirping and joyful missing child in his arms.

"I decided to show the kid my small collection of shells before leaving. The kid was very interested in them"

In confirmation of his words, the child waved his arms cheerfully, holding a beautiful small rainbow shell in left palm.

"I'm glad that you also had a good time, - Lance picked up the baby in his arms. - "Apologize again for such a sudden request."

"It's okay Lance. You two and the kid are always welcome. I think Jolyne would say the same"

Briana, Edmund and Drake were still silent until at the end of the conversation they said a short goodbye to Lance, Farmers and their child. Now their attention has been completely switched to Gale.

"Gale, what the fuck was that?" - Brianna, even after the shock, did not miss the opportunity to express her emotions rather vulgarly towards her colleague.

"Well, the shell version was much more plausible than the version that the child teleported into another dimension."

"Another dimension?!" - Edmund said too emotionally.

Brianna just sighed and headed towards the entrance to the Guild: "...I need drink, something strong. Edmund, where the hell is your whiskey bottle? I know for sure to have a supply"

"But we're on duty... What would Jolyne say", - Drake tried to protest weakly.

Gale put a hand on Drake's shoulder and smiled warmly.

“I think Jolyne would have had a drink in that situation too.

#what a long post #I maybe can call it full fic #sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley expanded #sve #sve lance #sdv farmer #sve jolyne #sve first slash clan #sve drake #sve brianna #sve gale #sve edmund

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moonstar-mush · 6 months

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Other NPCs from the Exalted game im running.

Rasping Dove (she/her): an exorcist gravedigger and Thread of Life for the party’s Liminal, Zymo (basically she’s their cool gay mom). She owns a 12-foot skeleton construct named Forklift.

Marli (she/her): A Lunar with a pelican spirit-shape who’s recently started dating Rasping Dove. Kinda miffed that the party stole her cursed crystals and now she’s gotta help them out.

The Realmlings: Nightshade (he/him), Soot (xe/xyr), and Bloodflame (she/her) are a trio of edgy dragonblooded teens under Rasping Dove’s care. They are a handful in that very special way only a gang of 17-year olds with superpowers can be. (They also stole some cursed crystals and got animal shapes from it).

Aruba-Garasu (he/him): the party’s parrot mascot got a humansona from the crystal curse. Now he’s hanging around sipping fruity coconut drinks and dispensing wisdom.

#exalted trpg #exalted

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fimbriaetubae · 1 year

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Three Little Cockroaches, or, Cumrag Revenge

“The curse needs a part of him,” said the witch. The room was hazy with smoke, thick and stinging my eyes, making them water. Incense and cigarettes. It smelled awful. I breathed in through my mouth. I could barely see the witch, but what I saw was twisted and bent and dry like driftwood. A head small and hairy like a coconut poked out from beneath her concentric layers of shawls. “I know how curses work, and I’ll get something, alright? I will,” I said, “I just wanted to talk about payment first.” There were knick-knacks on the table in front of me, witchy stuff, crystal balls, and the likes. I picked up a little statuette, three bug-like things plated in gold, and held it to my eyes. The witch was watching me, watching me with her pruny little black eyes set deep in her wrinkly face.

“Payment?” The question came out of her like dust from the bag of a vacuum cleaner. “Payment. What you take from the boy, I use as well.” Fine by me. “Deal,” I said, holding out my hand to shake hers. The witch ignored me, crawling over to her library and pulling a grimoire out of it. A heavy-looking thing, of bound leather and metal clasps, bigger than her, bigger than the little old woman, really. Should I help her? She seemed to struggle with the huge, heavy book. Before I could, she dropped it onto the table, sending knick-knacks flying on the ground, raising a cloud of dust. The witch opened it to a page in the middle. I sat up straight, peeking. Nothing. The page was blank. Her brows furrowing deep on her wrinkly face, she turned the pages, blank, all of them, until she found the one she was apparently looking for.

“You want this boy to suffer, yes?” Her index moved down the page, like she was tracing an ingredient list. Sagging coconut of a woman. “I came to you for a curse. Of course I want him to suffer.” Her eyes ran zigzags across the parchment paper. I waited for her to speak. After forever, the witch spoke with her dusty basement of a voice: “The curse needs part of him. It also needs part of you.” Sure. Fine by me. Part of me, that would be easy. Part of him, not so much. “Sure, yeah, no problem, you’ll get something,” I said, as the witch ushered me out of her house, “couldn't be easier, really.”

I had no idea how I’d do it, get close enough to him to get some kind sample of him. Every day I saw him in the corridors of our high school, but I couldn't get close enough to steal a hair, or draw some spit, or something. He avoided me, that was the whole problem, really, pretended not to see me, to be deep into a conversation with a friend, or looking at the floor intently. Maybe he thought that’d keep him safe. Only for now, now that I still needed a hair. Just the one hair and I’d make him suffer. I sat behind him in class, hoping to drill a hole in his spine with my eyes alone, or at least make a hair fall from his scalp. No such luck. And no helpful follicle left on his desk after he left, either. I checked.

But I did know where he lived. Last resort. But I pictured his house bursting full of hair and spit, and that, that convinced me. No other option. I’d break in like they did in the movies. Only I had to wait until they all left, his parents, his brothers, him; I was watching them from my car, parked on the street in front of the house, his house, full of light, buzzing with activity, every room under an amber glow, his mom cooking, his brothers doing their homework on the kitchen table. Zipping my coat up tighter, breathing on my hands to keep them warm, I watched them, studying them, waiting for the perfect moment. When the house went dark, I walked around it, testing windows, trampling on their lawn with a sense of righteous revenge.

The perfect moment came in late November. They all left, the mother, a chubby woman with curly black hair, packing all her children into the car, the father, a tall man with a bald spot, getting into the driver's seat before driving off. I was alone with the house. The house was all mine. I’d get what I needed. Laundry room. That’s how I’d get in, in the back. I picked the perfect rock, a heavy thing my fingers barely reached around. Threw it at the window, breaking it. Cleared the glass from the frame, kicking the shards off with my feet. That’s how they did it in films, so they don’t get cut. I wasn’t gonna rush in and cut myself like an idiot on the shattered glass.

I fell to the laundry room, holding my arm, bleeding. I’d missed a shard, I guess, but no time to hesitate now, not while the neighbours might have heard, heard the glass shattering and the girl falling and screaming. I’d get what I needed, but I had to be focused. Couldn't let myself bleed all over their white carpeted floor. Or bleed all over the white walls. Upstairs. That’s where the bathroom was. Combs and hair brushes. They were left out on the sink. But there was no way to tell which was his mother’s, his brothers’, or his. All had the same black and curly hair. I needed something uniquely his. No harm would come to the innocent, only the guilty needed to be punished. Something, something uniquely his.

I set the cumrag down in front of the witch. The coconut woman stared. “There’s enough of him on there for an army,” I said, “ should be more than plenty for my curse.” More than enough for her payment, too. “So? You’ll do it, right?” I asked the witch. She nodded, wrinkles rippling down her sagging neck. “The curse needs part of you, as well.” I pointed to the blood drying in rusty rivers down my arm. Her coconut head nodded no. “Menses. Equal.” When I came back from the bathroom, the witch had set the cumrag in a copper cauldron over the fire and was pouring fizzing liquids all over it. “Should I drop it in now?” I held the tampon up by the little string, dangling it. She shook her head, no, her eyes never leaving her work. Dark vapours rose from the pot. Should I set it down on the table? There wasn’t any place for it, with all the knick-knacks, and I didn’t want to stain the tablecloth. So I just held on to it, hoping it wouldn’t drip.

“And now?” It felt like hours had passed and that the witch had poured into the cauldron from all of her dark and dusty bottles, dropping into it all of her eyes of newts and toes of frogs. “Last,” the witch grunted. So I waited. “Now?” Her boney fingers grabbed my wrist hard and pulled me to the cauldron. “It needs you to do it.” The liquid was opaque black, boiling with lazy bubbles. “You want him to suffer, yes?” I nodded. “Do it.” I dropped the tampon in the cauldron and it dissolved instantly, hissing with steam.

I’d put a curse on him and he didn’t know it. I stared at the vain, crisp line of his hair at the back of his neck. Effervescent. Where he went, I followed. I followed him through the corridors of our school, I sat behind him in our classes. I had drunk three ladlefuls of the witch’s potion, chanted with her holding onto her boney fingers, chanted with her until my throat was raw, and I had put a curse on him. I wanted to see what would happen, what punishment would befall him. And hoped it hurt. I hoped he suffered. So I followed him, followed him through the flowing rivers of students. Trailing him, I overheard him talking to his friends, talking about the broken window in the laundry room, blood on the white carpet, but nothing stolen, no jewellery, no electronics. Nothing. Well, nothing was stolen that he noticed, really. The only thing I needed was the rag, and it was the only thing I took.

I waited until sundown and parked my car in front of his house. From there I waited, waited for him to meet his faith. He was in the kitchen. Lots of ways to suffer, in a kitchen. Knives. He was dicing something. Took whatever he was cooking over the oven. An oven. Maybe it would burst into flames and swallow him whole. Maybe he wouldn’t even die, but survive, burned, but alive, alive, and in pain. I wanted him to hurt, I wanted the fridge to fall on him and crush him, the knives to slip and cut him a hundred times, the toaster to electrocute him, the garbage disposal to shred his hands into minced meat, and all the cords and wires of the appliances to strangle him.

Ambulance lights flashing red and blue woke me up. In my car, I made myself as small as I could. There was an ambulance in their parking lot. The paramedics wheeled a stretcher out of the house. Then they were gone. Took with them their flashing lights and wailing sirens. I drove home.

It was his mother, his mother they wheeled out from the house. Behind him in class, I saw his head slumped down on his desk. A seizure. In hushed voices in the classrooms, I heard them talk about his mother, his mother, in the hospital, while his head was in his hands flat on his desk. That wasn’t what I wanted.

“Please, this isn’t what I wanted, you have to fix this,” I went begging to the witch. “You said you wanted him to hurt. He is.” A smile on her yellow black teeth. “This is what you wanted.” Tears stung my eyes. I shook my head, no, this isn’t what I wanted, no, no, and what I wanted was wrong, I could see it, I could see it now, crawling towards the witch. “Please. This is wrong. Please, you have to make it stop, stop the curse,” I begged her, begged the witch. She put her hand on my head, her twig-like fingers running through my hair. “Quiet, now,” she whispered, wiping tears from my cheeks, rolling them like jewels on her fingertips. “Yes, I’ll do what you want.”

I heard his mother was better. That she left the hospital. But she wouldn’t have been there at all, if not for me. I stared at his black and curly hair. Like his mother. I ran after him down the school corridor, catching up, and grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry about your mother, I’m really, really sorry.” He was staring behind me, not seeing me, not hearing me. “Thanks, yeah, it’s fine.” He didn’t hear me. I tightened my grip on his arm. “I’m really sorry about your mother.” Still, he didn’t see me, just pried my fingers from him, saying it was fine, thanks. My sleeve rode up on my arm, and I readjusted it. His face turned white, seeing the cut. Now he saw me, now he really did. “I’m sorry about your mother,” I said. He drew his arm back like I burned him.

He towered over me, holding himself over me. “I didn’t mean to, please, I’m sorry.” I shrank hard against the brick wall, continuing to beg, to apologize, please, forgive me, it’s all my fault, please, let me leave, please, I’m sorry. He pushed me, yelling at me. I fell down. All around me rivers of students went by undisturbed, stepping around me. All I saw were multicoloured shoes, walking fast, walking past me, hundreds of colourful shoes, running all around me. Until there were none, until I was the only thing under the fluorescent lights of the school corridor. I sat, cross-legged, looking at the ceiling, gray.

I was at the witch’s house again. Through the thick incense smoke, the coconut woman called to me. “Ever saw a cockroach give birth?” Eyelessly, I made my way to where the witch’s voice came from. In her crooked, liver-spotted hands, she was holding something. “Come closer,” the witch said. She was holding a glass, with a sheet of paper underneath. A cockroach. I stepped closer, closer to the witch and her bug. It wasn’t crawling around, immobile, except the back of it, its abdomen. It was pulsating. The witch grabbed my arm, tight. “See? It’s coming.” Her voice was high, strained with excitement. Something was coming out of the cockroach, white, sack-like. I tasted bile. Its abdomen was vibrating, pulsating, each pulse pushing out the sack a little more, more and more. The sack was big as the cockroach itself, pulsating with life, gliding out of its abdomen, falling out, as big as the cockroach, like the cockroach was hollow, emptied out.

A flurry of tiny cockroaches hatched, pouring out from the sack, thousands and thousands of them, transparent, unfinished, filling the glass like a tempest. The witch let go of her claws on my arm. With both hands, she raised the glass, high, thousands of baby cockroaches like glitter in a snow-globe, carefully, she walked to the fireplace, her eyes never leaving the spectacle of birth, birth in her hands, a smile sending waves down her rippling jowls. I followed her. The cauldron on the fire, bubbling thick. And smoking, black smoke reeking of ash and rot. The witch held the glass over the cauldron, then, then she emptied it, emptied it all, all the cockroach nymphs falling into the thick brew like snowflakes into mud, not sinking, but crawling, crawling on the surface, some swallowed whole by the craters of bubbles bursting open, thousands and thousands of tiny white cockroaches. They burned, the little cockroaches, catching on fire as they crawled over the mud-thick potion, disappearing, white flecks of ash on the black brew.

The witch turned to me. Some cockroaches, the blessed few, crawled their way up her hands, into the rags she wore. “Changed your mind?” She smiled with her yellow black teeth. I nodded. “A new curse. Drink,” the witch said, pointing with one dry finger to the cauldron.

The house was dark, my mother at her work. I made my way to the kitchen, bumping into walls and furniture, my hands in front of me. I pulled a plastic bag from under the sink, took off my clothes and put them in the bag. Ghost cockroaches crawled all over my skin. I wrapped the lump of clothes in a second layer of plastic, putting a knot in it tight as I could. Three layers. Another plastic bag. Three layers of plastic bags. Three was a good number, a witchcraft number. It tightened the bag shut before dropping it in the garbage bin outside. I took a shower, scrubbed my skin raw. I microwaved leftovers my mother left for me, standing over the laminated counter-top, my fingers in the tomato-stained Tupperware.

I went through the day gliding, one hundred miles away from my skin, gliding through school corridors, to and from classes, classes I couldn’t remember or hear. Gliding through the corridors, I saw him, far away, looked in his eyes, and blinked three times for witchcraft. He fell to his knees coughing, choking coughs from deep inside him, cavernous, like he was hollow. Turning red, he coughed and coughed and coughed and coughed, a crowd of students forming around him. All I saw was a little bit of black hair, falling down. I elbowed my way through. Choking still, his head, turning purple, on the floor, in a puddle of his bile. I turned him over so he could breathe. His neck was pulsating, vibrating. A lump visible in his throat. Much bigger than his throat, moving up, up, with each pulse, moving up, so much larger than his throat. His mouth fell open. Past the uvula, I saw something white, and pulsating. He wasn’t breathing. I had to help. I put my hand in his mouth, far as I could, reaching for the thing, my fingers slipping on it, not gripping. Tried again. It slipped, it slipped but I held on, and I pulled. I pulled with each pulse, pulling, and pulling on the white thing, pulling out with each pulse the thing from his throat.

He was like emptied out, deflated, his jaw unhinged and broken open from the thing in his throat. Next to him, a sack, a sack of white membrane, pulsating, palpitating, full of life.With each pulse, growing, stretching, the membrane thinning. But not tearing. I had to help. I crawled closer to the pulsating sack. With my hands I tried tearing, stretching the film, but it wouldn’t, wouldn’t give. My hands kept slipping, the membrane wet with bile. I dug my nails in. Clawed it open, ripping it, shredding the wet film.

It gushed full of fluid, sweeping me in its wave. It was putrid. I was soaked. I wiped the fluid from my eyes, clouding my sight. The sack was torn open. Not pulsating anymore. White, covering something like opaque shrink wrap. I peeled it off, peeled off the film, peeled it from the face. She looked like me. Delicate as I could, I wiped the mucus from her face, dabbing gently, gently, on this skin like mine, wiping the fluids from her eyes, her nose, turning her so she could breathe. “A witch is born,” said the witch, her hand warm on my shoulder. Gently, I cleaned the woman, cleaned her skin, babbling it gently, just her, the witch, and me, in the corridor, warm, warm, under the glowing lights.

#short story #horror writing #body horror #my writing

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