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deadghosy · 2 months

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How would (Separate) Hazbin hotel (Demons &Angel) react to a green thumb gardener whose elegant, classy and attractive and she went to hell by mistake but it was a happy one (She's not completely weak as she has her plant to protect her and everything)

HAZBIN HOTEL X GARDENER! READER

prompt: a common mistake made demons and angels swoon over a gardener who just wants to take care of her/his plants

cw! Sir Pentious is alive for this so he can witness your beauty in flowers💗

note! I listened to Lana Del Rey while making this lol.

HELL

You didn’t know you were supposed to be in heaven as you started your own flower shop. It was the biggest know hell flower store with actual flowers.

You were practically poison ivy, but more kind and definitely calmer. Hell, even some of your regulars call you poison ivy. Mostly because if people touch you metaphorically the wrong way, then you technically show them a harsher side of you. Literally, a plant impaled a sinner trying to rob your store.

What you didn’t except to get friends or even people interested into you as you just have a normal as shop you dreamed of before dying.

“Welcome to my flower shop, what can I help you with?” You said with a soft smile as a flower vine is watering other flowers in the background. Some imps, sinners, and hell borns go all the way to just see you and your flowers.

I can see you wearing a flower crown or just flowers in your hair. Like dead ass giving rapunzel. Possibly so, your alive flowers and vines had made that for you as you worked.

You most definitely wear those cute gardening outfits like overalls or those dresses if you prefer one of them or both.

See this is what I can imagine, I can imagine the whole damn hotel having a flower competition and you show up with a big ass plant with a neat pink bow on it 😭. You definitely had a smile as you drank tea with a secret smirk.

I can see you visiting the hotel Charlie has as she invited you to do some flower decor for a reopening of the hotel.

Imagine how pissed you were when a couple of sinners came in to make your shop look like shit. But you wasn’t gonna stand for it as you raised your hand grabbing the sinners by their necks with vines. “If you want flowers, I wouldn’t mind making you a funeral for you to have some.” You said with venom as the sinner practically shitted themselves as they were thrown out the windows of your shop.

A sinner had thrown a Molotov cocktail once in your shop all because he thought it was weird to have a “girly” flower shop in hell. As the fire spreads in your shop, you sighed having plant vines cover you in a big ball as one of the vine slither to find the culprit. After finding the culprit, you forced them to clean your shop since killing someone for such a petty crime like that in your opinion isn’t worth killing. You can always make a new shop and fix it.

Vaggie most definitely knows you as you hooked her up with flowers that Charlie might like. You told her Charlie seems like a simple girl would just like roses since they represent romance. And basically it was Vaggie and Charlie’s date night. And it was a success.

Angel dust loves how you don’t judge him for who he is by his work. But he definitely loves how you two gossip over some tea, well he drinks while you drink tea or water. You are like an older sister/brother figure to him. He loves resting in your bean bag you have in the back, he could just come in and and lay down straight.

I headcannon your whole palette to be like green, pink, yellow and white. Literally just spring ass colors to seem classy with your flower shop.

I can imagine you having the personality of applejack but more of a flower and gardening person as gardener! Reader were most definitely born in the south. Like I can imagine reader to be a mix of applejack, rarity, fluttershy but 100% of applejack’s honesty and a lot of Rarity’s elegance.

Niffty adores you! Literally she goes in your store to rant about she wants the hotel to smell fresh and ready. And you hook a sista up with how you give her scented plug in. She immediately starts worshipping you like Alastor which makes Alastor raise a brow seeing a shine of you in her room and drawings of you.

Charlie immediately loves how vaggie and angel ador you and find you as a loyal friend. She would love to have you at the hotel as a resident. She could even beg Alastor or her dad to make a flower shop for you to even stay longer by briding. She would also try to become your friend for her to succeed.

Sir Pentious went to your store to apologize again to Alastor as he felt that Alastor didn’t forgave him. He was scared you weren’t a kind “sinner” that only had a flower shop to scam people for their money. But when you spoke with kindness and care towards the snake demon. He felt calm in your presence, to the point when he got his flowers. He gave you one which made you smile at him and put it in your hair. He blushed and ran off.

The egg boiz love too appear in your store as their boss, penthouse is very nervous to talk to such an attractive person like you. You welcome the eggz to your humble store as you give them flowers to give back to the hotel staffs.

Angel and Cherri most definitely asked you to give them flowers to match their personality. You gave them both a Carnation flower which you thought was good for their personality. Or even a Lilly.

Husk kept seeing the crew leave the hotel to see them come back with flowers. He grumble confused at why they kept getting flowers. That is until he asked Charlie, and Charlie ranted about what a beauty and how kind you are. Husk raised a brow thinking you were putting up an act, so he went to see you. Let’s just say he got a rose coming back with a soft smile and a purr.

The Vee’s heard about you, Vox heard about you first and looked you up to see you are a popular florist and gardener with the power of Chlorokinesis. The power to mentally and physically control flowers. Vox smirked hearing about your 5 star rating shop. If it was that high ranked with people commenting it on yelp saying you were the best business to be at. You definitely got his attention at most.

Lucifer went to your store for some flowers to give to his daughter, and when he heard how amazing your store was. He went to se it himself. He definitely felt your pure spirit making him stumble into confusion on why you weren’t in heaven already. But he got his flowers and felt with a cup of tea you gave him. He shortly came back at the end of the day to give you his own flowers as he smiled with a snake smile and left leaving a note that says, “you’re welcome to come stay at the hotel! :)”

Alastor finally decided to meet you after hearing all the good things you did for the hotel and for the staff. He must say he was jealous how you won their hearts so damn quickly. He went to your store to see what’s all the fuss about and got hit with a lavender scent in his nose. He covered it as he wasn’t use to such sweet smell in hell as it’s filled with fire and blood. And there you were sitting there with a smile as warm plate of teas sat by you. You welcomed him as he made chat with you to find your heart pure with gold. He also left with a rose and a genuine smile.

I imagine how sweet you get your own flowers by regulars and your friends at the hotel as they love your passion about plants.

Headcannon on Gardner! Reader to be a Lana Del Rey fan as the song to match her/him is “born to die” 💗🦆

Vox was obviously the first Vee to meet you face to face as he had researched you so many times on the internet to get any scoop of you to only end up with an empty hand. So he decided to see you in person and smile with a charming one to see you greet him with a smile and show him the recommended flowers for loved one and family. He was not into the flowers as he watched the plant vines in the back work like hands. He smirks trying to use his hypnosis, but failed greatly as a flower in a vase covered his sighting of you. Thanks to your plant vines.

Velvette was the second one to come to your store as she was not impressed at how “boring and plain” it was in your shop. She was snarky about the decor and gave you tips on how to make it “pop” in here. You just smiled, and with a snap of your fingers, the decor changed to a more fashionable flower place. It made the female Vee almost drop her jaw and composure. But she can’t let some flower store shock her. So she left with one last snarky comment under her breath.

Valentino definitely came in last to see what was up with your whole popularity of your “business” of flowers as he was so busy working his porn industry. So when he walked in yo see you reaching for some flower seeds to get for a customer. He grabbed your waist, wanting to seem flirty only for it to backfire as a vine punches him away from you. You already knew who this bastard was, and you weren’t gonna let him get you like how he got angel. So during his entire visit at your shop, you made it a living hell. Literally.

I can see the Vee’s coming back every weekday to try and get you to be their little flower pet, but you ain’t buying it. 😘

You most definitely have a vine hammock in the corner of your store as you just sit there and nap during your breaks.

Imagine how cool and sweet you are to the imp and hell born children that come to visit your store for father day and mother day. Hell, even valentines days

I can headcannon that gardener! Reader has once in their hell life down there had to drag out a rude Karen ass bitch by their hair. You fuck with their plants, you fuck with them.

Imagine how chill you are just sipping tea as your plants and vines attack some dude trying to steal your sunflower seeds. Yeah, no one gets out without being traumatized by plants 😍

You came into the hotel once and immediately got love bombed by everyone. But not in a manipulate way, they just appreciate how amazing you are to people even the staff at most. They go as far to throw you a “welcoming” party 💗

Lucifer had most definitely sent ducks with mini flower crowns and a Gardner duck to you as he finds you very elegant and beautiful in your own way. He even accidentally tries to court you with his wings when he leans against at the front desk of your store staring into your eyes.

HEAVEN

Adam had eventually was sent to take you back into heaven as sera realized her mistake. You willingly went with Adam who smirked at your sweet smile and took you up by your hand. Like, let’s say whatever happened in the hell section didn’t happen as you just had a bad time in hell itself.

St. Peter immediately greets you, making feel welcome to your new home. He even baked you cookies with a smiley face. He tries to make chit chat with you when he isn’t on duty getting people into the gates. He literally visits your workplace in the flower store you own, bringing cookies, making sure you are okay. Hell-, I meannn heaven gods..he must be a househusband cause GYATT DAMN this man is making sure you are well and healthy in heaven’s care. 💗💗

Sera most definitely have showed you around heaven with a please smile to see a Gardner. You would’ve been great for the Garden of Eden, is what she says in her head as you smile at the trees and potted plants around. You even showed the seraphim your powers, and she must say that she was pleased and made you a gardener around heaven and even your own garden shop and house.

Emily most definitely tries to go visit you everyday to try and find flowers that match you so you can be surprise when she buys you flowers herself. You and Emily definitely have a sibling relationship at most because of how she looks up to you in a gardening way as she also wants to impress you by making her own garden and green house. She also makes sure you take breaks as she wants to help with the customers as you take a break in the back. Your friendship with her is so wholesome and lovely.

Adam likes how classy you are, you don’t even cuss him out when you are angry at him. You just put your hand in his face and walk away. Sassy, but classy enough to not curse someone the fuck out. Yeah sure that might’ve turned him on a bit at how hot and “bitchy” that was of you. Cause no one has ever rejected the “Dickmaster”. So it was his duty to make you his friend…sorta😨. But it’s all fun and games at how you guys are like frenemies at most since Adam actually can’t stand you, but still flirts at how attractive and kind you are. Hell even strong minded.

The angels absolutely love coming in your store! They find every single plant and flower you made incredible. You practically almost run out of business when it’s Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day. But you can’t complain when they leave so much heaven bucks for you to get more plant seeds and such. The angels also love how pure of gold your heart is as you even give some off free for the heaven borns and winners.

Big headcannon on how your Gardner outfit in heaven, the palette is a soft green and pink pastel. But Adam and Sera had thought about you wearing a gold, white, and blue type of Gardner outfit. They want you to stay pure and mighty.

OOOH IMAGINE HAVING CUTE ASS WHITE GLOVES 😭😭 LIKE THEY HAVE THOSE STITCHED IN GOLD THREADS AND LIKE THEY ARE SO CUTE AND COMFY INSIDEEE💗💗

Since i headcannon that Gardner! Reader to be a damn Lana Del Rey fan, their song that matches them in heaven is “young and beautiful.” As you are young and beautiful and mostly, you’re in heaven.

Literally imagine Adam just shows up to just degrade you, but it doesn’t work as you just sit there reading your daily newspaper or on your phone to just see plant and gardening instagram from earth and heaven. Adam pouts or even scoffs before taking your phone and acting like a fussy cat wanting attention.

You really don’t give a fuck about Adam but he definitely gives a fuck about you.

The angels sometimes ships you with Adam, but they also ship you with st.peter at how he is basically the house husband and you are the girl boss who works their ass off😭

Lute and Adam are definitely the type to be those teens who visit their local market..dead ass when they are free they just come to your store and just start “window shopping”…but really they just either want to mess with you or actually know about your day.

I can see you literally just chilling, and Adam busts open the store door that has that jingle bell on it so harsh and all he says is. “Wassup bitch!” With his usual grin and a soda cup as you just groan annoyed.

St.peter literally tried to work beside you ok his days off to just see how “calming” your job is. Until rush hour comes😭 that’s when hell itself unleashes with people wanting to grab any scented flower candles and flowers for theirselves. Have mercy on Peter’s soul that he doesn’t get grabbed and clawed all because he said that the last product was in the back. 😭😭

Imagine how cute your damn angel wings must be. Cause I imagine them to be some god damn fairy wings to match a beautiful aesthetic with your flower and gardening store.

I headcannon you actually had thrown Adam like how vaggie thrown the staff like in the episode of “scramble eggs.”

lol I can see you just slapping Adam with your plant vine because of one misogynist joke he made. He had the most whip lashed mark on his face. He stopped making those fücking jokes like that as he just flinches as a vine comes near him. “WALK HIM LIKE A DOGGG!!” 😘😍

Sera loves gaining flowers from you as the angelic guards bring them in as she is doing her work.

Emily also feels the same way as she smiles and makes the guard send you flowers as well for a thank you. 💗🥺 please give this sweet baby a note back saying you appreciate her damn note so much..

Imagine having a whole tea and cookie station by your front desk where people pay. Like they get a nice drink and a snack in case they were hungry and thirsty from their trip to here. 😘☀️ you care about your customers and regulars deeply.

St. Peter had one time mistook the glass doors to be opened and fell back so dramatically onto his ass, he might as well confirm himself as dead 💀

Emily most definitely actually tried to grow a plant or flower to show you how much she learnt from you, only for the damn thing to fail. She wanted to cry and shrivel up in disappointment, but you taught her and help fixed her mistake on what she did at most.

Lute most definitely acts better without Adam, of course she could act better with Adam. It’s just that Adam is her home dog, and she is Adam’s homegirl. So of course they are besties. So with Adam not interfering with you and lute talking one on one for the first time. You two get quite long to the point she grabs your hands and smile. Leaving with a flower you gave her.

Your plants just causally changing into the liked flower of the customer or regular due to your plant magic on sensing what flowers they like supposedly💗

Headcannon on how short you are. Literally you are shorter than lute to Adam and Emily. It’s really funny but to you, it’s annoying asf since Adam picks you up like a stray cat found at the front porch ready to be taken in.

Emily and sera would have tea time with you definitely. Or coffee if they prefer. You don’t gossip of course but just lift each other up and talk about hanging out later in the days or weeks later. Heck even the day later maybe if Emily is very eager.

Lute most definitely had thrown flowers in your face as she isn’t use to showing affection towards a person she actually admires. Yeah she admires Adam, as a boss and best friend. But there is something about you that makes her stumble on her words.

You had to actually stay home once, forced by sera who got told by Adam you were overworking yourself. Adam and sera hated it as sera showed go to your job looking serious. Forcing you to stay in bed until you had a good sleep for the week.

Imagine just gardener! Reader literally accidentally making Adam spit out a four leaf clover as they were saying a spell in Latin to have four leaf clovers for St. Patrick’s day.

I headcannon Adam sometimes tries to court you with his wings, and you are confused as hell as you aren’t use to being courted by some fucking feathers.

I can see you having a potted plant pet beside you. It was practically a sapling as it smiled with heaven magic and told positive affirmations to waking customers. It’s so fuckin adorable

I imagine you just sleeping as your overworked at your store and Adam comes in pissed off you didn’t come home. So he literally picks you up over his shoulder and walks Home. He has the damn key to your house but he decides to just go to his house and lay you on his bed as he sleeps on the couch grumbling.

St.Peter, after that little incident with him walking into a glass door. This mofo literally puts his hands out towards any glass door 😭 like a little kid being traumatized after a glass maze. It’s so funny but so sad.

A young heaven born had brought you back a freaking flower crown in your most favorite flowers and you were so amazed. You gave the small little angel a flower crown of their own.

The visits are always welcomed to your store as Adam brings you his own set of flowers to try to impress you. 💗 you snickered seeing the note that says, “i hope you like it..bitch. *middle finger drawing* I heard this plant was your favorite.” Sweet, but sour ass motherfuker. 😭😭

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campbell-rose · 4 months

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Charlie Redesign!

I want charlie to look super out of place in Hell. I wanted her color palette to resemble the sky, as the sky can symbolize infinity and is usually associated with the place gods reside, high above it all. The main point is looking super out of place in Pride, which will carry over to Vaggie. I made her colors bright because i can’t be bothered to alter the colors of Viv’s hell to dull it down and from the trailer it doesn’t seem like shading is that important. Not shitting on that btw, i hate shading my drawings.

The way I imagine this version of Charlie is that she helps do the paperwork side of things, since Viv’s hell is just earth but red, I'm just assuming her heaven will be similar. Charlie helps schedule things, she’s kind of a secretary and works under Adam to help make sure the Exterminations go smoothly. She takes stock of weapons, sees what was lost, tallies up the total deaths, general stuff like that, you feel me? She doesn’t like the Exterminations; she thinks it’s horrific and that the people in hell ought to have a chance to come to heaven.

So it’s basically the exact same plot as before and her personality is the same because Charlie was the only character i liked from the pilot the others all had something that threw the vibes off slightly. Charlie’s relationship with Alastor will be a little different, because he’s one of her benefactors. He wants to watch the pretty little angel’s plans crash and burn, and she is determined to prove him wrong. Side note while I'm thinking of him, I’m changing the overlords – they aren’t sinners that got powers because sinners don’t have powers in this version. Well, no, they are sinners, just sinners that made contracts with demons and gained favor with hell during their lives, earning their own place in the hierarchy of hell. Speaking of which, it goes: Sinners, Overlords, Hellborn, Ars Goetia, Princes/Seven Sins. Overlords are given the power to torture other sinners (so it makes sense that Valentino makes Angel’s life miserable, it’s his job to torment other sinners)

Once the show actually drops, I might add more benefactors in my rewrite. Like, since Alastor is backing Charlie, the cannibals from cannibal colony will be friendly towards her, things like that. Hell, maybe Val backs her, idk don’t want to jump the shark.

Either way, i think Charlie being an angel sets her up for a better character arc with her naivete and attitude towards sinners. Also i think my design for her is literally beautiful she’s so pretty, she’s my baby i love her. And for the sake of making things easier, i fused her little goats Razzle and Dazzle with the key cat KeeKee because i think having three cute little pets is too many and R/D didn’t really do anything in the pilot. I’ve doodled them a bit, haven’t settled on a design yet. In my mind this little kitty is a cherub thing that Husk adores as his first hint of not being a complete ass.

Any who. That is all.

#anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin charlie #ignore her fucked up hand i got lazy oopsies

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urgonnaneedabiggership · 11 months

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Host of a Ghost

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Spoilers (Miguel's backstory is mentioned). Mild violence. Very, very light mention of a foiled SA (not to reader). Some angst.

Word count: 4.1K

Short A/N: This man has become my hyperfixation since I watched the movie and I'd been wanting to write something with him and today finally the muse came to me do I deliver you this decent-sized thing I wrote. Hope you like it <3

PART II

“Unusual” wasn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your life at all. At least not until about a year ago.

It was unusual to find a spider with such an odd color palette roaming your apartment since you were used to more dull-colored typical critters. It was also unusual that you didn’t panic enough to turn the apartment upside down to look for the thing before it bit you, but there was too much work to do, and a million notes from Dr. Connors to go over. It was equally unusual that you hadn’t rushed to the hospital the minute you noticed the tiny marks on your thigh.

“I mean, if it was really dangerous, it would have hurt more.” Was your reasoning to ignore it and keep scanning the pages before you. Nobody said pursuing a Ph.D. was without sacrifice.

By the time you tried to stand up to make more coffee just to end up collapsing on your kitchen floor, it was much too late.

From then on, “unusual” was pretty much every day’s motto.

Having a nightmare that night about being suffocated and unable to escape just to wake up hanging upside down and wrapped in sticky shit was the first clue. Turns out you were actually able to produce said sticky shit at will in the shape of a thin thread, then you discovered the wall-climbing abilities, and before you knew it you were roaming the city at night trying to get comfortable threading between the tall buildings, running across rooftops and challenging yourself to climb this or that building as fast as you could. You felt indestructible, alive. It was wonderful.

You’d never forget the night of your first save either. For several reasons.

It was an ordinary night, right before returning to your apartment, when a violent shiver abruptly ran up your spine and every cell in your body commanded you to stop. When you did, a scuffle in a nearby alley caught your eye. A young girl was violently shoved against a wall by a man who pressed his hand against her mouth. The same second his hand came dangerously close to the zipper of her jacket, you practically tackled him from above and pinned him against the ground, having no clue of what to do besides throwing punches at his face until you knocked him out. A whimper coming from a dumpster behind made you realize you had an audience.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, remembering your uncovered face, the only solution at hand is to wrap your scarf around your head to try and hide as much as possible, “Oh god this feels too much like cultural appropriation for my taste,” You kept nervously rambling to yourself as you slowly approached the dumpster.

“Um…hi,” You greeted, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Being met with nothing but silence, you were about to leave when a soft voice replied.

“No. He didn’t. Thank you so much.”

“Is there…I don’t know; is there somebody you want me to call?”

“I want to call my mom.” She replied, her voice still shaking, “He took my phone.”

“Right. Phone. Okay.” You quickly made your way back to the unconscious man and pawed his clothes looking for it. He let out a groan in protest.

“Yeah it doesn’t feel right, does it asshole?” You muttered as you retrieved it from one of his pockets. Then you shoved him onto his stomach to tie his hands and legs behind his back before returning to the girl.

“Here. It still works,” You just held it over the dumpster, seeing nothing but her pale hand as it reached out to take it before you took a few steps back.

“No, wait,” She immediately pleaded, “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“Like hell I am. I’m staying right here.”

So you waited with her until the police arrived. However, the minute you saw the flickering lights and heard the approaching siren, you retreated into the dark part of the alley and climbed onto the nearest building to escape through the rooftops.

It wasn’t until you were back in your apartment that you realized you’d been smiling all the way home. Carefully shutting the window behind you, you let yourself fall onto the couch and screamed joyfully, the pillow muffling the sound.

She was okay. A person was okay because you could intervene and do something about it.

However, a new wave of shivers flooded your veins so abruptly that you sat down immediately.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Came a feminine voice from the unlit kitchen, “Being able to help, I mean.”

You scrambled to your feet and started walking backward. However, the voice didn’t remain hidden for too long. A woman emerged from the shadows, dressed in red with a yellow hairband pushing her near-afro hair back. She greeted you with a soft smile.

“Your reflexes need polishing,”

“My…?” You repeated, dumbfounded.

“And you have to learn how to fight properly. Randomly throwing punches isn’t always going to cut it,”

“I’m sorry, who are you? Why are you in my apartment? Were you following me? Do you know about…?”

“Whoa, slow down, kid. I know you have questions, and I might be able to help you with that. But you’re going to have to come with me.”

“Alright, I’ll…let me just get my car keys,”

“Oh, sweetie,” The woman said in between laughs, not malicious but truly amused, “You have so much to learn,”

You were starting to wonder why she had elongated that “o” like that until, after pressing a few buttons on the device around her wrist, something that you would’ve described as a “black hole on LSD” erupted in the middle of your living room.

That night you learned that her name was Jessica Drews and that she was completely right about you having so much to learn. With a four-second-o.

Over the following months, you became capable of things you didn’t think possible. Walls that took you a minute to climb became easy obstacles that didn’t take up more than fifteen seconds of your time, your fighting skills had also improved exponentially under Jess’s tutelage, and of course, going from a life where you could count your friends with less than one hand to being constantly surrounded by amazing (no pun intended) Spider-People who not only understood the changes you were going through but warmly welcomed you into their circle was more than you could’ve asked for.

Well, perhaps some more willingly than others. And by others you meant him.

He, who seemed to be always around, silently watching but never intervening.

He, who despite being allegedly “always locked up in his lab” always seemed to personally oversee your training since day one.

Whom you’d tried to greet as gleefully as you did the others just to receive, if anything, a vague nod of acknowledgment. In your first three months, you had spoken maybe four times. Well, you had. He only hummed, nodded, or answered in monosyllables. You knew better than to waste your energy with people like that, but for some reason you were unwilling to just accept Miguel O’Hara didn’t like you and that was that.

“For some reason” being code for “I’m one second away from fainting every time he as much as looks in my direction,”

You weren’t a child, for crying out loud. You were aware that no matter how cold, distant, and seemingly indifferent the leader of your new team was, he was an insanely attractive man. Even with the fangs…no, especially with the fangs, for some reason. His whole aura that screamed “completely-inaccessible-frighteningly-powerful-twice-my-size-man” had you harboring a huge crush on him within two months of meeting him. So painfully unrequited that it was embarrassing. Just the fact he could ignore your greetings and surely never think twice of it but you would spend the rest of the day wondering what you could’ve possibly said to make him at least say “hello” back made you want to scream into a pillow until your throat burned.

It was right up there with the time he’d muttered ‘much better’ when he saw you land a kick you’d been practicing and those three seconds kept playing on your head for the rest of the week.

The night of your first mission you decided you were going to prove your worth, not to your crush but to your team leader.

“I told him you’re ready,” Jess said with a proud smile, “He’s going to call you in sometime throughout the day to let you know where you’ll be going and with whom, probably me. How do you feel?”

“Excited, I guess,” You replied, pressing your lips together anxiously, “Also nervous. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“With me as your mentor? That’s unlikely,” Jess replied with a wink, giving you an encouraging pat on your shoulder as she walked away.

However, the day continued normally. You did some assigned tasks here and there, which mostly included helping Spider-Byte to keep everything running smoothly given your background in the tech field. You grabbed lunch, then thought it would be a good idea to train some more before going away.

You were beginning to lose all hope when, as you leaned down to fix some wiring, Lyla popped right beside your head and called your name so loudly you hit your head against the metal and hissed. One year and still you hadn’t used to the way she appeared out of nowhere.

“Oops, sorry,” She promptly apologized, “Well you’ll have to walk that off, Miguel wants to see you STAT.”

“How am I supposed to walk a head injury off, Lyla?” You joked, rubbing your forehead as you rushed across the halls with the holographical figure floating after you.

“Not in my code,” She replied using her usual excuse.

When you walked into his working space, Miguel’s back was turned to you as he used a digital pen to do some annotations on what looked like blueprints of new equipment. After he didn’t react to your presence for a few seconds, you hesitantly walked closer and cleared your throat.

“That looks nice. Is it a new suit?” You asked, as always, trying to start a conversation.

“I just received an alert about the…” He stopped and sighed as if saying the silly nickname was physically painful to him, “…the Go-Home-Machine. It said there was a small power overload since we sent back that Vulture from the 192-011 Universe.”

“Yeah, but Byte and I are already working on that and it should be fully functional by tomorrow morning,” You replied, a bit confused as to what that had to do with your mission.

“Good. Let me know as soon as it’s fixed.” Miguel hastily replied, not even turning to face you until a whole minute passed and he realized you were still standing there. Even then, he just barely turned his head.

“That’s all, (Y/N). Thank you.”

That’s all? What do you mean that’s all?

“Was there something else you wanted to do?” He asked. Shit. You’d said that out loud.

“I…Jessica told me that I’m ready to go on a mission and that today you…”

“I said I would think about it, and I have.”

He fell silent again. No matter how attractive he was, you were starting to truly get pissed at his stupid theatrical antics.

“And?”

“And the answer’s no. You’re not ready yet.”

That felt like all the disappointments in your entire life added up and multiplied by ten. Especially because of how easily he dismissed you despite being aware of how hard you’d worked, how many nights you decided to forgo hours of sleep just to train and polish every movement until it was as close to flawless as you could.

“Not ready yet?” You practically hissed in a voice you almost didn’t recognize. Hell, it was enough for him to put down the pen. “Not ready yet? That kid Pavitr has been here for what? A month? And he’s already going off on missions. Alone, I might add!”

Unsurprisingly, he did not answer.

“And he’s very, very good, I’m not saying he isn’t. But I’m just as good. And more experienced, both at being here and at being a Spider-Person. I have completed every training scenario you’ve thrown my way, worked my ass off to understand every bit of information regarding interdimensional traveling, and studied the protocol to control anomalies, what is it that you still need me to prove?”

He took a deep breath. So deep that his shoulders rose, flexing the muscles of his back in such a way that if you hadn’t been so angry, you would’ve been too distracted to keep arguing. Even with your blood boiling, you couldn’t help but stare and feel your stomach tense at the sight.

“Do you like being part of this team, (Y/N)? Do you like training in our headquarters, having access to all our information, and maintaining contact with the other members of this society?”

“Of course I do,” You replied immediately. Slowly, Miguel turned around to face you completely and walked towards you, descending the two small steps that separated you until he stood towering over you. Even if your knees were about to give in to this unexpected closeness, this wasn’t the time to fold. You held his glare defiantly and folded your arms in an attempt to mentally guard yourself against him.

“Then I suggest you get in line and do as you’re told,” He said in a low voice. But it wasn’t threatening, or condescending. It was an odd, flat tone. Tired, perhaps. Almost as if…as if he was reprimanding you against his will.

He was almost unbearably close. You could feel his breath hitting your face. If right then all logic flew out of the window and you stood on your tiptoes you could…

“I’ll do that when you’ve earned my respect, and I have a policy of reciprocity when it comes to respect, Miguel. I’ve been in line for a year, I’ve listened, learned, and improved so much that if you’re still looking down on me, then it’s your problem, not mine. And no self-righteous, big-headed…”

“Just get out,” He cut you off, once again turning his back to you and walking towards the blueprints again.

“Oh no, I’m not finished…” You insisted, trying to follow him. However, as soon as you gave one step forward he turned around so violently that you stumbled backward and stared at him with something you hadn’t felt towards him up until then: fear.

“Yes, you are,” Was his only reply. As dull as the others.

While you could only see his face for a moment before he walked past you and left the room, something about his expression stuck with you even hours later, when you laid on your bed at night and combed through the scene over and over. You thought he would be fuming, maybe even shocked that you’d dared to talk to him like that. The last thing you expected was for him to look…upset. Hurt, even. The mere thought of you being able to hurt Miguel O’Hara was as ridiculous as imagining a goldfish fighting back against a shark. Still, you realized that even if you thought he was in the wrong, you felt bad about how things went down back there. You would never understand what being the leader of hundreds of super-powered people was like. Commanding each and directing their particular abilities as best as he could all while maintaining a vigilant eye on endless strings of causes and effects because he knew firsthand the consequences of being careless with them.

Even if he had made a mistake with you and of course you still wanted to address it later, right then all you wanted was to apologize.

And so, not even an hour later you were roaming the halls of the HQ, your heart beating furiously as you got closer to his quarters, wondering what you could even begin to say.

When the automatic doors slid open, you stepped inside and turned back to look as the doors closed behind you. Well, no turning back now.

“Miguel?” You called, looking around the large room, pondering whether a first-name basis was okay. After everything that had happened, going back to Mr. O’Hara sounded terribly stupid. Then your eyes landed on the row of screens where he spent most of his time. An extremely ill-timed wave of curiosity filled your chest as you approached them, taking another look at the seemingly empty room before stepping onto the platform. Getting bolder, you reached out your hand and brushed your fingertips across one of the screens. It immediately came to life with a blue glow, startling you and making you curse under your breath. You were about to look for a button to switch it off when a video started playing automatically from where he had left off. He was in it, holding a young girl. Miguel wasn’t just smiling. He was laughing. His laugh was exactly as you’d pictured it. Not particularly loud, but hearty and low. He had the kind of laugh that made you unwittingly smile as well as a newfound sympathy filled your chest as tears filled your eyes when you pictured that being taken from him just like that. How could one have a family, and then one day be completely alone and keep going?

With a renewed disposition to make things better between you, your hand reached out for the switch that would turn the screen off until a third voice piqued your interest. It belonged to whoever was holding the camera.

“Would you please stop hoarding her? I deserve some mother-daughter time too! Here, hold this thing and give her to me,” The voice said between laughs. There was something about that voice that made an extremely cold shiver run down your spine.

“Fine, you’re right. Bueno pues, mijita, ve con mamá, ¿quieres ir con mamá?”

The picture became blurry as the camera switched places with a giggling Gabriella, who could be briefly seen stretching her arms toward the third figure.

“Alright,” Came Miguel’s voice again, “But when I turn the camera towards you I want both of you to blow Daddy a kiss, can you do that for me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned the camera around.

And then you found yourself staring into your own eyes. They weren’t quite the same shade as yours, and “your” hair was styled differently. And “you” had freckles. But otherwise, it was like staring into an interdimensional mirror. Then, your voice spoke.

“Okay sweetie, let’s humor him, shall we? Blow Daddy a kiss. And another one from me because now I have to use both arms to hold you, my big girl!”

Miguel laughed again at the way his daughter’s face lit up at being called a “big girl”.

“¿Saben que las amo a las dos, verdad?”

“And Gabriella loves you too. I think you’re…nice enough.”

“(Y/N), I don’t think you marry somebody for ‘nice enough’, mi amor,”

“I love you too. Against my better judgment.”

With one last interrupted laugh, the video ended, and, in a cruel irony, the once again black screen showed your actual reflection.

Except this time, it wasn’t the only one. With a loud gasp, you turned around. After seeing him in that video, it became much more evident that the Miguel in it was nothing but a memory of the past. And in a matter of seconds, everything shifted into place like a gloomy puzzle. His expression was unreadable, though he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were fixed on the empty screen.

“I wasn’t supposed to ever see that, was I?” Was the only thing that came to your mind after a lengthy, tense silence.

“What good would it have done?” He replied, almost numbly.

“So that’s why you’ve always…stared?” You kept pushing. Against your better judgment, you thought.

“It was at first,” Came his only response. Like always, it seemed like you would have to tear the answers off him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning your head to look for his eyes. Even then, something warm filled your chest. Something that made your heart beat so quickly you felt as if it would stop at any moment, and it spread all over you no matter how much you tried to fend it off. Hope.

Surprisingly, this time he caved in and looked at you. Still, the answer never came. For the first time in all the time you’d known him, Miguel O’Hara was at a loss for words. And that said more than anything he could’ve come up with.

“And you expect me to believe that, by sheer chance, you happened to catch feelings for somebody who is practically your wife’s interdimensional twin?”

“It sounds so much worse when you say it like that,” Was that a hint of a smile? An attempt at a joke? One year and the only time he’d bothered to be decent to you was when you were talking about how much you looked like her?

With an annoyed look, you moved away from him and started to make your way to the exit.

“Do you think I wanted this?” He spoke rather loudly, his whispers going out of the window as he started to follow you across the room.

Miguel O’Hara following you to keep you from leaving. Just hours before you would’ve died of happiness at the mere thought of this scenario. Right now, your brain was a flurry of thoughts and emotions that you didn’t know how to handle.

“I was doing an amazing job at keeping my distance. Watching you from afar, seeing you laugh, grow, win everybody over with that awfully big heart of yours, and still I reined myself in,” He continued, “Today’s the perfect example. You thought I didn’t respect you, for fuck’s sake! I respect you so much that every single day I have ignored you and pretended you are nothing but another face in the halls. Damn it, (Y/N), I couldn’t even look you in the eye when for months you’ve been all I’ve wanted. All because I didn’t know if I loved you or what was left of her. And I didn’t want you to get involved in shit that’s mine to figure out.”

Hearing him not only withdraw his previous statement of you not being capable of doing things and accepting the problem was his and not yours made you stop in your tracks.

Fine, the sudden (though odd) love declaration had something to do with it too.

“So you don’t think I’m not ready?” You asked, turning around and even taking some steps towards him.

“Are you serious? I’ve watched you closely all these months. You learn in days what others do in weeks. You push yourself way more than so many of our members and yet I’ve never, ever seen you become overconfident. Today you never said you knew everything. You said you knew enough.”

This time, it was you who remained silent. There was something else you wanted him to elaborate on, and from the look in his eyes, you realized he knew damn well what it was.

“You were right. The problem wasn’t yours. It was mine all along. I could manage to push you away and keep my feelings at bay. But knowing that you were eventually going to go out there and take so many risks...worst case scenario, you could get hurt or not come back at all. That was too much for me to handle, s’all.”

“Were you afraid of losing me…?” You started to ask just for him to interrupt you.

“Yes. Very much.” However, you lifted a hand to stop him. You weren’t finished.

“Were you afraid of losing me, or were you afraid of losing her again, Miguel?”

Three seconds later, when no answer came out of his mouth, you were about to turn around once again when he rushed and stood in front of you. For a second, you thought he was going to grab your shoulders to keep you in place. Not wanting to come off as if he was forcing you to stay, his hands just hovered on both sides of your shoulders without touching you.

“Listen, she wasn’t a picky eater like you are. But I swear that woman never drank enough water and every time I see you there’s either a bottle in your hand or laying around. And she was so, so messy. It took us at least ten minutes to find the keys every single time…and Spider-Byte said you sort your tools by size and color. Color. (Y/N), I don’t think even I…”

“Are you getting somewhere with this?”

“You’re not her, (Y/N). You have never been, and you never will, I know that. I want you to know that I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. I love you.”

After that, he moved out of the way and folded his arms.

“If you want to go back to your dimension and stay there for a while…or for good, I don’t know, I completely…”

“I love you too, you know?” You cut him off, pressing your lips together after blurting out the three words that’d been haunting you for the past months. Words that up until now you were sure would never leave your chest. When you turned to look at him, you saw in his eyes what minutes ago had filled yours. Hope.

God, his face was so hauntingly beautiful when his features softened.

“What do you want from me?” You finally asked him, your voice shaky from the effect you knew his answer would have regardless of what it was.

Miguel moved closer to you almost hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. When he was close enough, he reached out with both his hands and slid them up the back of your neck, his thumbs tucked in front of your ears as his warm palms engulfed the back of your head so he could hold you while he brought his face down to press his forehead against yours.

“Mi amor, I’d give you all I am and be happy with whatever you’re willing to give me for now,”

You knew it would take some time for you to get used to hearing him say things like that without wondering if you were the only one in his mind when he did. It would be a while until you felt completely certain that you were made of flesh and bone and not just a ghost in his eyes, but it would happen. You saw his eyes as he drew his face closer to yours and when your lips touched, you knew that it would definitely happen sooner or later. Until then, you thought as you stood on your tiptoes when he almost desperately pressed his lips onto yours, he was very much worth the wait.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv

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ryanmarshallryan · 1 month

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I've been having a lot more people reach out about the vore stories I write, so thought I'd throw it out there if anyone wants to donate to help me have more time to write stories, or likes my style and wants to commission something let me know over dm!

I usually write thinking from a prey perspective, but was feeling hungry after eating salads for a month and switched to pred for this story.

DIET BACKFIRED

I love my weight. I think my belly looks great on me. When I see those old statues of historical figures with dad bods I see myself and love it. But after gaining 25 pounds in a few months from stress, I decided to try out a diet for a bit, just to be cautious of my health. Man, it was hard. And this morning my hunger took control.

I was preparing a salad, heated up some chicken to mix in, sprinkled in some shredded cheese, spinach, lettuce, cucumber, tomato and such. All I could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have a full belly again. Not just feeling satisfied, but pigging out and shoving as much down my maw as possible. Feeling the gainer bug while also trying to diet was not going to work for me. I tore through my cabinet to find an old box of cookies. I opened the box, came to my senses and closed it, then decided I didn’t care and ate the remainder in one sitting. To try to slow myself down and tire out my palette, I tried to eat a bunch of lettuce, but then added a bunch of croutons and snacks without thinking. I still felt hungry, but just left the kitchen to stop myself.

Later, I hung out with my work-out buddy, Max, and vented about my hunger, “I’m still eating a lot! Just replacing chips with a lot of low fat snacks. So if the quantity of food I’m eating is the same, why am I always feeling sooooo hungry? Ugh.”

“Bro, sounds like you need a cheat day. But, hey, if you’re stressed about having too much high fat food, I can help you eat big while still holding back on the chips.”

“Well it can be helpful to sit with the feeling for a while. So if you start feeling hungry, write down exactly what you are craving and what that feels like. By the time you are done writing it out, if you’re still hungry for it… go for it. If the feeling passes, then move on,” Max continued.

“I’m sure we could try it, but I don’t see how much of a difference it’ll make.” I replied. I knew Max worked as some sort of private personal trainer or something on the side, so I felt inclined to believe him, but my stomach was doubtful.

After our workout, we visited a smoothie place and got large chocolate banana protein smoothies (after writing out what I was craving and waiting a moment before deciding to go through with it). I sucked mine down so fast I got a mild brain freeze.

“So how are you feeling? Hungry for another one?” Max asked, playfully placing a hand on my gut and giving it a quick rub.

“Ugh, I would totally go for a burger and fries right now… no, onion rings… actually both,” I replied, as Max handed me a notepad and pen. I wrote down the menu in my mind and thought about how it can be nice to feel so full without another care in the world.

“It’s been a few minutes… still hungry?” Max said with a sly smile.

“What do you think?” I asked him, lifting my gym shirt up to reveal my hairy belly, which gave a perfectly timed gurgle.

Max drove to my favorite burger joint and ordered a few meals and insisted on paying “This is my idea, don’t worry about it… for science!”

After downing two large burgers, a full bag of onion rings and a couple sides of fries, plus an apple that came with Max’s meal that he was too full to finish, I sat with my gut extended out in front of me.

Max leaned over to me, pulled my shirt up over my belly and patted it with his closed fist as if knocking at a door, “So how are you doing, hungry guy?” He put his ear to my side and listened intently to the stomach gurgles, occasionally making sounds of “Mmm,” “Yes, I see,” “Interesting.” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of Max speaking to my belly.

“What’s so funny about listening to your gut? Intuitive eating is no joke,” Max said with a joking smile, “What is your stomach telling you?”

I thought for a moment, grabbed the notepad and wrote down ‘Though I should be full and done eating… Ice cream would hit the spot right now… Surely that would fill me up, and fill the void the low fat snacks have opened.’ I handed Max the written note.

Max looked from my belly to my eyes with a poker face, “I know just the place.”

In a few minutes we rolled up to Max’s apartment. Inside he pulled out some pints of cookies and cream ice cream and some mint chocolate chip. He handed me a spoon and opened the containers and sat across from me.

“Do you want me to get a bowl?” I asked.

“Nah. Try to intuitively eat. Just eat until your body feels done.”

“So… eat until there’s a nationwide ice cream shortage?”

Max threw his head back laughing, “If we get to that point, maybe we’ll pivot to a new tactic, but for now, feel free to eat as much as you want.” He looked endearingly into my eyes, and I felt my gut rumble, whether by digestion or hunger, or both, I couldn’t discern.

As I scooped down ice cream, we chatted about hunger, about scarcity mindset when it comes to food, and he told me some interesting facts about digestion and how to make room in one's stomach faster than normal by laying on the left side.

“Is this the stuff people need to know for your personal training work and such?” I asked.

“Personal training stuff?” Max gave a look of puzzlement then laughed, “I think I said that sarcastically a while back. A few guys pay me to help them gain weight and eat big. So sort of a personal trainer, but kind of the opposite effect that most would expect.”

“Ohhh, this tactic makes a bit more sense now,” I replied, continuing to eat the ice cream.

“Well, I thought if I encouraged you to experience the ability to eat as much as you want without restriction, you’ll realize that you don’t have to eat everything. It sounds like you are always hungry, because you are always denying that you want food.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” I went to scoop up more ice cream then realized I’d eaten all of it.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, rubbing the top of my belly.

I felt a grumble deep in my stomach.”I can definitely feel my belly full of food, but I also could definitely do the whole thing all over again.”

Max considered me for a moment, then started listing off some random digestion facts again. He put his head on my stomach again, lifted my shirt off my body, listened again, took his hands and gently opened my mouth wide and peered down my throat, until I started laughing and he couldn't hold my mouth open.

“What are you doing? You think my stomach is gonna speak back to you in English?” I joked.

“No… but I wonder if I could better understand your hunger if I could better see inside your gut. Hmmm, maybe even just peering down your esophagus…”

“Don’t you need a fancy scope for that or something?”

“Not if you’re willing to relax your throat for a moment…” Max said. I shrugged, and he straddled my lap and shoved his head into my mouth. I could feel his energetic breathing against my tongue and wondered how on earth he could see anything down my throat with his head blocking light from the outside.

I heard a muffled “I’d like to see a bit further…” and felt him push his whole body forward into me. His shoulders shoved their way into my maw and stretched my jaw wide like an opera singer. I choked a little bit feeling his scratchy hair make contact with my uvula and the bottom of my tongue. I reflexively closed my lips over his skin and swallowed as the hair and breath tickled my maw. I realized that my peristalsis must have taken a bit of control, because I was surprised to see that I was looking down at his lower back with his arms pinned to his sides. I felt his nipples and pectoral muscles sliding against my tongue and felt his head squeezed tightly through my lower esophagus. What was going on? Though the sensation was filling me with dopamine and adrenaline, I realized that somehow my body was getting ready to eat a whole human, so I mentally prepared myself to try and regurgitate him. But instead I felt him force himself deeper into my throat, as his feet pushed off against the floor, and his upper torso wriggled and squirmed to slide deeper into me. I felt a sloshing in my gut, and heard a muffled intake of air and the continuation of more digestion facts being spewed out of Max’s ever curious mind obsessed with digestion.

Since Max seemed so intent on getting inside my stomach, and I knew I would need to breathe soon, I decided to help him out. I lifted his legs up over my head and felt gravity pulling him down my throat. I pulled his gym shorts and such off him and felt the interesting texture of his little belly over his abs, mixed with gym sweat and belly hair, felt past his hard on and groin, and his thick thighs as they all passed over my tongue and against my soft palate. My stomach finally began to feel full, as it sloshed with its soupy contents of dinner encasing Max’s squirming upper body. I knew Max’s hands had been freed from the tight grip of my esophagus as my inner stomach felt a peculiar tickling sensation with Max rubbing it from the inside. I felt him poke around and heard his muffled casual observations about my stomach.

I felt Max’s muscles seize up as he put his legs together tightly and let them slide easily down my throat. I felt his cold feet tickle my tongue, uvula and esophagus until they finally plopped into my stomach and I felt my throat open enough for me to exhale and breathe in more oxygen finally.

I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and catch my breath, feeling Max move around and curl up into a ball inside my tight stomach. I looked down to see the bulge his head made toward the top of my belly, with other odd bumps sticking out that I assumed were his knees and feet pressing up against my stomach walls. I felt his clammy hands push up against my stomach as he surveyed his new situation.

“Max, I forgot to write this craving down first.” I said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry I already did!” I heard him shout back, hearing it almost come up through my own throat. I stared in confusion at the opened notepad next to me and flipped to the last written note that read ‘Ice cream and everything else isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe eating me will do the trick. - Max’

My belly gurgled in surprise, “You planned for me to eat you?”

“I did shove myself down your throat, didn’t I?”

“But why would you -”

“Hey you didn’t try and stop me, bud,” he replied. I felt a pat against my belly, and shivered a little bit.

“Yeah, but I thought you just wanted to glance inside, but you wriggled in deeper!”

“Are you mad that I did?” Max asked. I felt him shifting his weight inside my gut and resting into me.

I considered the events of the night. I had really craved a day to just eat all I wanted, and Max gave all that to me and more. Even though I definitely didn’t expect him to force his way onto the menu, my belly felt much more satiated than it had been. “... I’m not mad at you… just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into… but I do have a confession.”

“What is it?” Max asked, shifting around and pressing his head up against the place where my hand was resting on my belly.

“I could go for some orange sherbert right now… I think your diet tactic failed.” My stomach added a large grumble and groan in agreement.

“Failed for you, maybe. But I’m cozy!” Max tried to stretch out a bit and I watched my stomach bulges shift in a funny manner, and felt my belly tighten and knead Max in response. “Plus, I think I figured out why you’ve been so hungry lately.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“That you should have eaten me ages ago! Once I’m digested into belly fat you’ll have more energy stored in your cells for longer, so you won’t be as hungry all the time! It’s simple science,” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not sure that science is sound, but as long as you’re happy, I’m fat and happy.”

“If you don’t think the science is sound, maybe you ought to repeat the experiment. Have a cheat day every once in a while,” Max replied, as he curled into a tight ball again and let my stomach relax and get to work over him. “I know I’ve been seeing that cute guy at the gym drooling over your gut, you know, the one who always wears that green hat? I’m sure he’d love to be a part of your next cheat day once you’ve had enough of your salads and diet again.”

I enjoyed the peace of feeling Max getting comfortable deep in my gut. I took deep breaths and felt my diaphragm move Max around slightly as my chest expanded and contracted. “Maybe I’ll ask him. But I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to take it as far as you did tonight.” I rubbed my belly and stared, mesmerized at the lumpy spots on my belly indicating Max’s body relaxing against my stomach walls. I felt his heartbeat in polyrhythm against mine, with his breathing patterns tickling my stomach walls. I tasted the lasting flavors of his skin on my tongue, mixed with ice cream and other sustenance I had downed throughout the evening. Good thing we worked out first, to balance out this sharp intake in calories. So I suppose even if I had a cheat day from my diet, eating a whole human balances out to be healthy, right?

#gayvore #male vore #m/m vore #fat

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codgod · 8 months

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y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

#.png #jrwi #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi chip #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi spoilers #THEYRE FINALLY DONE zoo wee mama #the lines are thicker on the little armour drawings because i did the sketch thing and then went yk what. good enough. and just coloured tha #also got rid of gills button nose it was too annoying to draw #i’m so used to straight and aquiline noses #another thing that could’ve been unique for him in terms of my character designs #but nah #pls ignore that i drew them all standing on diff planes/angles btw i wasn’t trying very hard w that #weirdly proud of myself for managing to give them all pretty unique profiles #that’s normally something i kinda get stuck on. drawing people from the side #in different ways besides nose shape

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shiorimakibawrites · 3 months

Text

The Accident (Part I of Happy Little Accident)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7, 368 Summary: You tripped in the elevator and covered your neighbor in paint. Your ridiculously hot neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. Warning(s): Anxiety, Female Gaze, Referenced Sex, Referenced Character Death, Reference to assumed Attempted Murder, Thoughts about sex Happy Little Accident Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

The Accident

You were painting in Central Park when your phone rang. You let out an irritated huff as you fished your phone out of your apron’s pocket and looked at the caller ID. Abby, your boss at the Daily Grind. It was tempting to ignore the call, pretend like you had forgotten your phone. Very tempting. It was a lovely spring day, one you would much rather spend painting than working. But in the end the knowledge that Abby wasn’t prone to bothering her employees during their off hours without a good reason had you accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Abby said, sounding apologetic. “Can you cover for the afternoon shift today? Peter is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!” you repeated, feeling immediately concerned. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Peter was one of the cafe’s newer employees. You didn’t know him very well yet but he seemed like a nice kid. If a little absentminded, given how often he arrived for his shift at a rush. And possibly even more clumsy than you are since you had often seen him with bruises which he claimed were the results of tripping over things.

Assuming he wasn’t lying about how he had gotten hurt. Which you thought that he was . . . some of those injuries didn’t look like they had came from a fall . . . It worried you. It worried others at the cafe too. Abby wasn’t usually so forgiving of such frequent tardiness and absences.

“He got hit by a car. Claims that he’s only got minor injuries but the hospital doesn’t want to discharge him without running some tests first. So can you come in today?”

You suppressed the urge to sigh. You didn’t want to sent the wrong message. Because you weren’t actually annoyed with Abby or Peter but the situation. These things happen. Sometimes people got hurt or got sick. And when they did, someone didn’t get their day off. Today was simply your turn.

And well . . . it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the money.

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your apron before starting to gather up your things. Your newly acquired shift started at three. It was only a little after noon, plenty of time to get back to your apartment and get ready, but you didn’t like rush. Rushing tended to make you even more of a klutz.

You swirled the used brushes in the water jar, trying to get as much paint off of your brushes before rolling them in a small towel. A second towel, already stained with old paint, was used to wrap up your palette. The paint was thrown back into their carrying box. Which was technically a small tackle box but you had repurposed it for art supplies. The box went into the bottom of your tote bag along with the water jar, double checking that lid was screwed on tightly. You didn’t need to ruin another sketchbook. You squeezed your current sketchbook behind the tackle box. Next went your pencil case, followed by the towels and their respective cargo. Now the only thing left was your painting and the portable easel.

You removed the painting from the easel, careful to avoid the spots where the paint had spilled over onto the tacking edge. Your fingers already had enough paint on them. The painting was propped against a tree, fingers crossed for two things. One that the wind wouldn’t pick up and send your painting flying. And two, a police officer wouldn’t start yelling at you for it. You didn’t think using the tree as a momentary support while you packed up violated any park rules but you weren’t entirely sure. You had read the park rules but they were written like a legal document . . . which it probably was . . . but that made you feel like you probably weren’t understanding it right. After all, you weren’t a lawyer.

Luck seemed to be with you. You were able to get easel broken down and put away without incident. You swung your bag into your shoulder before picking up your painting. After making sure you had a good grip on the stretcher and the tacking edge, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Then you started making your way home.

Your lucky streak continued. You didn’t drop anything. No one dumped into the wet canvas or you while you were walking. The subway was busy as usual but not packed to the gills. Your feet resisted the urge to get tangled up in some random piece of debris. Or your own feet. Or the absolutely nothing that you somehow managed to trip over sometimes . . .

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was too good to last.

Things began to go awry when you were waiting for the elevator to arrive. You looked down and saw a tube of paint in your aprons’ pockets instead of the tackle box where it belonged. Normally, you’d shrug and try to remember to put it away later but it looked like the cap hadn’t been screwed back on correctly. Your frown deepened after you transferred your painting to one hand and realized that the cap was loose. Loose enough that it was a minor miracle that it hadn’t fallen off somewhere between the park and here . . . you hoped the paint hadn’t gotten dried out . . .

You heard the elevator dings its arrival as you pulled the paint out of your pocket. Trying to one-handedly shift the tube so its cap could be gripped between your fingers and twisted close, you didn’t look when you heard the elevator door slide open. You just moved forward. And immediately tripped over . . . something . . . you had no idea what.

You just knew that you were falling, that you had lost your grip on your painting as your hands instinctively rose to protect your head from the oncoming impact. An impact that never came. Someone caught you before you could hit the floor. Unfortunately the hand holding the paint had squeezed down, spraying paint on yourself and the chest of your rescuer.

It was like a train wreck. You didn’t want to look but you always couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You stared in horror the giant splash in the middle, the magenta color of the paint shockingly bright against the light gray suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie . . . Your eyes darted to the array of smaller droplets that radiated outward like shrapnel . . . you raised your eyes with the growing dread. Because you recognized that suit and tie, that broad chest . . .

Sure enough, when you looked up, you were greeted with the very surprised face of Matt Murdock. You felt your heart sink. Of course it was Matt. It couldn’t have been someone else. Anyone else. Preferably a random stranger that you would never see again. But no . . . it had to be your neighbor. It had to the man you had developed an enormous crush on.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. You wanted to cry. Matt returning your feelings had always been a long shot . . . but now? There was no chance. You had turned out of his nice suits into a terrible Jackson Pollock . . . you were going to be lucky if he ever talked to you again . . .

You don’t know when you started apologizing. One minute, you were frozen in humiliated shock, the next increasingly frantic words started spilling out of your mouth. What words you couldn’t say. You couldn’t hear anything past your heart pounding in your ears . . .

A hand cupping your cheek was so startling that it immediately pierced the panic clouding your mind. Big, warm hand . . . you blinked and realized that someone was speaking to you. A familiar deep, soft-spoken voice . . .

“. . . shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Sweetheart?! You would hardly believe your own ears. But that was definitely Matt’s voice, his face that you were looking at, and those oh-so-kissable lips were moving . . .

This wasn’t the first time that Matt had called you sweetheart. He had been doing that since the first time you meet. If literally running into someone counts as meeting them. You would like to say no but it wasn’t like your second encounter with your then new neighbor had gone much better. You weren’t always a klutz around him but your bouts of clumsiness did occurred around him with embarrassing regularity.

And provided he was nearby when it happened, Matt always caught you when you started falling . . . so finding yourself in his arms also happened on a regular basis.

This had some upsides. For one, it gave you an appreciation for how much muscle must be hiding under those suits of his. Because he never had any trouble catching you or helping you get back onto your own feet. There was something very hot about the way he could lift you up like you weighted nothing. For another, he is very warm. Which had been especially nice during the recent autumn and winter months. And he smelled good. Like plain soap, ink, paper, and something woodsy like sandalwood with fainter notes of leather, cooper, and something else familiar but that you couldn’t quite remember what it was or where you had smelled it.

On the downside, you were never in his arms for very long. Certainly not long enough to really enjoy being held by those strong arms. He’d catch you, make sure you were steady on your feet again, then his arms would slide away and he stepped back. Taking all of his warmth and good smells with him. Which was always a little disappointing even if you did appreciated that he didn’t assume that he had permission to hold you longer than was absolutely necessary. And that he didn’t use those moments as an excuse to get handsy. Which you knew some people would have.

Further on the downside, being in his arms for any length of time made it very hard to pretend that he didn’t get you all hot and bothered. That having his warm breath brush against your neck and ear when he said something like ‘Careful, sweetheart’ didn’t make the skin there prickle and the rest of you shudder. Or, last week, when your shirt had gotten ridden up, that feeling those callused fingers against your bare skin didn’t make you shiver. Or the absolute worst, when you had to act like you hadn’t just been touching yourself while fantasizing about him, that you hadn’t just been moaning his name, that being in his arms hadn’t renewed the heat between your legs . . .

Those moments, it was really difficult to stop yourself from doing something crazy. Like ask him if you can find out if those pouty lips are soft as they looked . . . or if how much of that beautiful ass you could fit in your hands . . .

You suppressed the urge to groan. Serena, your best friend in the world, was right. You needed to get laid. Because even at the most embarrassing moments of your life, when you were half-considering changing your name and moving somewhere far away, you still couldn’t keep your mind out of the gutter.

Your imagination was out of control. It kept trying to convince you of the wildest things. Like that there was something more to the way his fingers had rubbed that little sliver of bare skin last week than just some mild curiosity when his hands didn’t encounter the expected shirt material. Or those tightening grips on your waist was anything other than making sure he wasn’t about to drop you. Those moments when his voice went deeper and huskier weren’t due to attraction but Matt was obviously coming down with a cold or something.

You ignored the grumbling inner voice that pointed out, aside from when he had the misfortune to get stuck in the elevator with that guy from the third floor who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, you had yet to see Matt so much as sneeze. Or that none of those moments had overlapped with the times Matt had looked ill – tired and moving like his body ached.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up. Matt was way out of your league. So far out that you weren’t even playing the same sport. He was incredibly good-looking, easily one of the most handsome men you had ever meet. You were the textbook definition of Plain Jane. Not ugly but not beautiful either. He was confident, outgoing, and charming. You were anxious, shy, and awkward. He was a lawyer with a successful law firm. You were an artist whose work didn’t sell well enough to make a living off of it. Hence the waitress/barista job at the Daily Grind.

Maybe not the most sensible job choice for a shy klutz but there were only so many options for someone with an art degree. Plus you had been working there since college and Abby had displayed remarkable patience for your clumsiness (and the periodic broken dishes that went with it). Mostly because you were otherwise reliable. And while you would never enjoy making small talk with strangers, you could do with a smile. It helped the majority of the regulars were nice . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Any blood that managed to drain out of your cheeks immediately flooded back. You were really batting a thousand today. First you spray him with paint, then you babble incoherently at him, then you stand there like a moron ignoring him for god only knew how long. If Matt didn’t already think you were awkward and weird, he certainly did now.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure of what to say.

He smiled at you. That sweet one that seemed . . . .dare you say it? . . . fond? Which did nothing to diminish the flush in your face. Neither did the little circles his thumb was rubbing into your right cheek or the reassuring squeeze from the hand at your waist.

He’s just trying to keep me calm, you told yourself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He just didn’t need you panicking again. Lawyers were busy people. He had probably had things to do and didn’t want to waste anymore time on you.

“And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not going to sue you.”

You had actually said that? Out loud? You closed your eyes and let out a low groan. Everytime you think this situation couldn’t get more embarrassing . . . that idea of moving some remote mountain which hopefully had no insanely hot lawyers living on it was sounding better and better. The only thing thing that would have been worse was if your word-vomit had decided to detail just how attractive you found him. Then, in addition to everything else today, you’d have to listen to him say ‘I’m flattered but . . .’ while your heart shattered into a million pieces . . .

“Sorry,” you repeated. Because what else you could you say to something like that?

“No need to apologize again, sweetheart,” he said as his hand slide off of your face before joining its fellow in helping you get back on your own feet. Then, as usual, his arms pulled away entirely and he took a small step back. As usual, you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed or felt colder. Both were a lie.

“It was an accident,” he continued. “You said you were sorry. No harm done.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering around his suit. The mess hadn’t miraculously disappeared. It was still here.

“No harm?” you repeated. “You’ve got magenta splattered all over your suit!”

“Which one is magenta?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I remember what magenta looks like,” Matt said, sounding thoughtful. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Er . . . pink?” you said, trying to think of how to describe it. “This particular shade is darker than bubblegum, more purplish-red? Like some plums just under the skin or a pomegranate?”

“Sounds pretty,” he said. “Foggy has been telling me that I need to wear more color.”

“I think he probably meant new clothes that were different colors, not paint splattered on your existing clothes,” you said slowly, unsure of what to make of this conversation. It was not turning out at all like you would have expected it to.

He grinned. “Most likely but he never actually said clothes. Just more color. He knows better than to leave the terms of a contract that vague.”

While you didn’t know Foggy Nelson very well, you had the feeling he would not be impressed. You had also seem him and Matt needling each other at Josie’s often enough to picture the irritated look he would level at his partner if he returned to work looking like this and tried to make that argument. The image was so absurd that you had to giggle.

“Not sure that is a winning argument, Mr. Murdock,” you said,

“Sure it is,” he said. “Any ambiguity in a contract favors the party that didn’t write it. Foggy wrote the contract without defining his terms. So I am free to interpret those terms as anyone might reasonably expect them to mean.”

Which only made you giggle even harder. He was being so silly. “It’s not very professional?”

“Regretfully, I have to agree,” he said, sounding almost like he genuinely disappointed about that. Provided you couldn’t see the cheeky grin on his face. “Will I need anything special to remove the paint?”

“No,” you said, silently thanking Past You for choosing to work with acrylics today instead of oils. The faded spots the turpentine would leave would be less noticeable than magenta but still probably not something he wanted. Also even the low-odor version didn’t smell good. You didn’t know if there was any truth to that whole ‘blind people’s other senses get stronger’ thing but real or not, Matt seemed to have a pretty sensitive nose. “Acrylics are water-based. As long as it is still wet, warm water and soap is enough.”

“See? No harm done,” he said, giving that flirty smile that always made your heart go pitter-patter. Even when you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. Matt was a charming guy who flirted a little with everyone. You had seem him get a little flirty with Mrs. Gonzales, the third resident of the sixth floor. Who was, as she pointedly reminded him, old enough to be his grandmother and scolded him for shameless flattery. She had rolled her eyes a little when he retorted the truth wasn’t flattery but did seem pleased. Pleased enough to make him tamales. Which honestly made you a little jealous. The tamales you had bought from her at during the holidays had been really good . . .

Serena thought Matt wasn’t flirting with you just to flirt. That he actually liked you. But she was your best friend. It was her job to believe that you were wonderful and agree that the hot guy you had a crush on was into you. And if it turned out that he wasn’t . . . well, then he was an idiot wasn’t worth your time. You wanted to believe her . . . you wanted that to true so badly . . .

But you had seen the women Matt used to bring home. And the ones who flirted with him at Josie’s. Beautiful, self-assured women with successful careers. They were everything that you weren’t. Granted, you hadn’t seen one of his paramours leaving or arriving at the building for a while. And the only ones you had seen him leaving Josie’s with lately were his friends.

Or you. Which you refused to read anything into either. Matt just didn’t think you walking home alone at night was safe. And it wasn’t. The Kitchen might have Daredevil, its guardian in red leather, but he couldn’t be everywhere. Couldn’t save everyone through if the rumors were to be believed, it certainly seemed like he tried.

Regardless of his reason, you always ended up agreeing because you were too weak to say no to spending just a little more time with him. And it wasn’t like you were making him go out of his way since you both lived in the same building . . .

The point was that Matt would the same thing for anyone. Even someone who really didn’t need it. Like Jessica Jones. Through he claimed that was just to save himself or Foggy from needing to make another late-night trip to the police station because she had punched some creep into a wall. While he agreed that yes, they deserved it for treating someone like that but the police didn’t see that way, Jessica . . .

“As long as it’s still wet,” you repeated. “It’s harder to remove once its’ dry.”

“How does that take?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good thing I’m so close to home then.” Then he seemed to hesitate. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Absolutely,” you said, cringing a little at how eager you sounded. But you had gotten paint all over him. A favor was the least you could do.

“Can you help me get this cleaned up?” he said, gesturing toward the paint. He gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Otherwise I might miss a spot.”

“I can do that,” you said. You had been intending to offer help anyway. You had made the mess. You should help clean it up.

He frowned suddenly, his head tilting to one side. “Are you sure? I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t need to be at work until three and it’s . . .”

You tried to check the time on your watch but it had a smear of paint across the face. Unfortunately the hands were hidden by said smear of paint. “Probably not three.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Problem with your watch?”

“Paint is hiding the hands.”

He gave an amused grin as he ran his fingers around the edge of his watch. “The downside of wearing non-tactile watches. It’s a quarter til one.”

“Plenty of time,” you said. And even if it wasn’t . . . Abby was a reasonable person. She would completely understand not leaving any neighbor, let alone your blind neighbor, to clean this up.

He smiled before reaching down to pick up his fallen cane. You felt your face get warm again. Both because you just realized what you had gotten tripped over (which made you feel like a jerk) and because that action had pulled those trousers taut over his ass (which made you feel . . . other things). But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. Not when you had a front row seat to one of the best asses in America. Possibly the world.

Matt couldn’t possibly know that you were checking out his ass but that smug little smirk that he flashed in your direction made you feel like he did. You averted your eyes and tried to find a distraction. Before thinking about his ass (or other body parts) got you worked up. More worked up. Which not only would be awkward but make you nervous and prone to say something embarrassing.

Then you remembered your painting. You had dropped it earlier. Where was . . . you let out a distressed groan as you picked it up. The good news was that your painting hadn’t landed paint-side down. Which had saved the mostly dried paint from smearing or chipping. The bad news that hadn’t escaped The Magenta. It didn’t get hit as nearly badly as Matt but there was still a giant splat right in the middle of the lake . . .

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a giant glob of magenta in the middle of the lake,” you said.

“The lake?”

“In my painting,” you said. “I was doing one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Maybe,” you said, looking at the mess and trying to think of how to incorporate the random splatters into the image. You could remove some of it without taking off the underlying layers but not all of it. That would have to be incorporated somehow . . . Maybe a boat? Or a float . . . some of the smaller ones could be turned into leaves if you switched the setting to autumn just as the leaves were turning . . . or a flowering tree with pink blossoms . . .

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents,” you reminded your inner perfectionist.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It’s something Bob Ross said a lot,” you said. “He was–”

“That guy on PBS who painted the landscapes?” Matt said. “Soft-spoken, sometimes had a squirrel in his pocket and talked about happy trees?”

“That’s the one,” you said. “The Joy of Painting. I watched it religiously as a kid. How about you?”

An odd little smile spread across Matt’s face. “Not often enough to qualify as religious but you could call us regular watchers. My dad wasn’t much of an art guy but he found the show relaxing . . . and it was quiet. I could turn it on in the morning without waking him up after he had worked late.”

He sounded nostalgic, like these were fond memories but also deeply sad. Then you remembered that Matt’s father was dead. Killed when he was a little boy. Which you only knew about because you had once given into temptation and googled Matt Murdock. Most of the search results had been about his law firm and the Castle trial but further down the page, articles about the accident that blinded him and his father’s death had also appeared. But by then, you had felt guilty enough about snooping into his life that you hadn’t read any those of articles beyond their headlines.

“Did you ever try to follow along?” you asked softly.

“A few times with the watercolors from my school supplies,” he said. “I was terrible at it but my dad hung up every picture on the fridge like it was the Mona Lisa.”

“Mine did that too,” you said. “My mom might still have a few of them tucked away with the baby pictures, waiting to embarrass me with them.”

He chuckled. “Did you ever fall asleep watching the show?”

You laughed. “Yes. Usually after I had stayed up too late reading.”

“Same,” he said, then gestured to the control panel. “Shall we go up?”

“Yes, we shall,” you said, a little amazed at how well this was going, despite the mishap. And that the elevator had remained here at the ground floor for this long. Probably it was the middle of the day and therefore most of the other tenants were either at work or school right now. As the elevator rose, you tried to think of something to talk about. You didn’t mind quiet but your earlier anxiety about his reaction had been replaced by your more usual nerves at being around the man you had spent almost half a year pining over.

Nervous You tended to be a chatterbox with chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Nervous You might blurt out that you liked him. Might detail how you wanted to go on dates, snuggle on the couch, hold hands while you took long walks, call each other by cliché nicknames like honey or dear. Basically be one of those disgustingly adorable couples . . . And behind closed doors, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that would leave you walking funny with a big smile on your face . . .

That thought alone made your cheeks warm. Among other places. Maybe work? Work should be a safe enough topic. Nothing naughty about work . . .

“What brings you home this early?” you asked, injecting as much cheer as possible in your voice to disguise your nerves. “Does no one need lawyering today?”

He chuckled. “No, we still have plenty of people who needed lawyering. I just forget my phone this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to retrieve it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as the elevator dinged your arrival to the sixth floor. The doors slide open and you walked out. Or rather you tried. But apparently you just had no luck with elevators today because you managed to slip on nothing. For the second time today, you started to fall. Only backwards this time.

And despite what happened the last time, Matt still caught you.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling the earlier flush to your cheeks deepen.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he said. “I like having a beautiful girl in my arms.”

Which only made the warmth in your face start to spread down your neck. Even if he didn’t meant it, it was nice to be told that you were beautiful. You couldn’t help liking it. You did your best to ignore the nasty voice in your head – the one that sounded a lot like those awful girls in high school who had bullied you – saying how would Matt even know that you were beautiful or not . . . he was blind . . .

Your more optimistic side – which sounded like Serena – pointed out that for obvious reasons, that Matt was unlikely to find someone attractive based solely on their appearance . . . so maybe he really did find you beautiful . . .

You blamed those pernicious thoughts for making you feel like there was hint of hesitation, of reluctance, in Matt’s hands as they slide back off of your waist once you were standing upright again. But not matter how many times you told yourself that it was just your overactive imagination . . . part of you couldn’t help but hope.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said as you followed him into his apartment. While he disappeared down a hallway, you propped your unfinished painting against a wall before slipping your tote off your shoulder with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t very heavy but those almost falls had jerked it and its contains around, making the straps dig into your shoulder. After sitting down the tote, you prodded the area. It was a little sore but it lacked the tenderness you associated with oncoming bruises.

You walked toward the kitchen and looked around, curious. In some respects, his apartment was a lot like yours. Both displayed the buildings’ previous life as factory in the exposed brick, scuffed hardwood floors, and visible HVAC and pipes. Both had large windows that let in a lot of natural light if even the old glass was a little wavy or different colored. Both had galley-style kitchens and generally open floor plan. Both of you seemed to have opted for a mismatched collection of secondhand furniture in either earth tones or neutral colors. But that was where the similarities ended.

The first and most noticeable difference was size. His was a lot bigger than yours. Which honestly you had expected, knowing very well that your side of the sixth floor had been turned into two units whereas his was left as one. Yours didn’t have access to the roof but in all honesty, you were fine with that. You weren’t afraid of high places in and of themselves but you were afraid of falling from high places. The outside of your windows wasn’t dominated by The Billboard. Which even during the day looked rather bright.

Matt’s apartment struck you as unfinished, like there was something missing but it took you a moment to figure out what. There was nothing decorative. The walls were bare and furniture were bare. It was sharp contrast to your place where the walls had been turned into a gallery for your unsold paintings and the furniture was festooned with the efforts of Serena’s knitting or your embroidery. You wondered if this was due to preference (Matt was simply a minimalist who considered decorative items to be annoying clutter) or to circumstance (Matt hadn’t found anything that he liked yet).

Another difference was the level of tidiness. You weren’t outright messy. You cleaned up after yourself. But there was always a certain amount of controlled chaos. For example, you were just as likely to find your pincushion and scissors on the kitchen table as in the sewing bag where they belonged. Or how your books often ended up stacked on the floor by your reading chair instead of being put back on the bookshelf.

Matt’s place, by contrast, looked very well organized. Everything obviously had a place and was always returned to its spot when not in use. Which made sense when you thought about it. No one wanted to go on a scavenger hunt every time they needed something. And given how busy Matt was, he also didn’t have time to be doing that.

Plus there were things that no one would want to get mixed up. Like grabbing the shampoo bottle when you wanted the mouthwash. Yes, there were other things that would clue him in before he inadvertently washed out his own mouth with soap. But, as your grandmother liked to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

“Will any soap work?”

You jumped at a little at Matt’s voice. He sounded close. Much closer than you would have thought he could get to you without you noticing. Especially on these old hardwood floors which had so many places that creaked or groaned when stepped on.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s . . .” you started as you turned toward the sound of his voice. And promptly felt your intended words get tangled up in your throat. Your heart began to race as blood rushed back to your cheeks at the sight before you.

Your eyes greedily took in his broad shoulders, then down arms so thick that you doubted that you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it. Back up and across to the well-defined pectorals, then down through to sculpted abdominals until they disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. All covered in a skin that looked like it was as soft as satin.

You swallowed hard. You had known for a while that Matt had some muscle. He had saved you from your own clumsiness too often for you not to know that. But this . . . you had no idea he was hiding all this under those fancy suits of his . . . It was like someone had brought the statue of a Greek god or Michelangelo’s David to life . . . and then someone had apparently convinced him to put on pants. Whoever that idiot was should be fired . . . because if the rest of him looked this good . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Once again, you jumped at his voice. You raised your eyes up to his face. Your breath caught for the second time. Because Matt wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. You had never seen him without those glasses. Predictably, his eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him. Big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement and confidence. It matched that cocky little smirk he was sporting. The same one he had given you earlier. Only this time, you were positive that he knew that you were staring.

But it was so hard not to . . . he was so beautiful . . . it filled with you competing urges. The artist longed for your drawing pencils and a couple of hours to sketch. You weren’t sure you had the talent to fully capture his beauty but you would love to try. The woman, however, wanted him to fuck you. For him be inside you. Cock, fingers, tongue . . . your cunt didn’t care which. Any or all of them would do.

Watching that pink tongue dart out from between those oh-so-kissable lips before disappearing back inside his mouth did nothing to quell your arousal. Nor did the almost hungry look in his eyes. All it did was make you think about all things a man could do with his tongue if he was so inclined . . .

You dug your hands into your jeans to keep them to yourself. Silently you reminded yourself why you had to control the later impulse. First – Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your neighbor and maybe a friend. Second – even if you were his lover and consented to having sex, neither of you had time today. He needed to go back to his office and you had to be the cafe at three. Abby would understand you being late because you were helping Matt clean up The Magenta. She would be far less sympathetic toward hanky-panky induced tardiness. So as much as you would like him to bend you over his kitchen table, you had to ignore that particular desire.

As for the artistic urge . . . since he didn’t seem to hate you for The Magenta, maybe he would agree to model for you? And you were friends of a sort. Friends could ask friends to model for them, right?

“L-liquid soap,” you said, doing your best to sound normal instead of incredibly turned on. “I-I found it easier to work with when cleaning up paint.”

Matt didn’t look like he was convinced by your non-existent acting skills. But he went along with the change of subject. Then gave you another heart attack by revealing that his shirt and tie were silk while his jacket was wool with a silk lining. You had no idea how to clean paint off of those without damaging them . . . isn’t stuff like that dry clean only?

The answer was yes and no. The shirt was made of a type of washable silk that he could launder at home – on the gentle cycle with mild soap. The suit and the tie, however, were both dry clean only. But Matt knew how to prevent stains from getting set in his fancy clothes and you knew how to handle paint. Between the two of you, you worked a plan that should get the paint off while preventing damage to his clothes.

Using an old gift card that you used as a painting tool as a scrapper, you removed the bulk of the paint from the tie and jacket while Matt used his bottle of liquid dish-soap and water to wash his shirt in the sink. Then, you dampened a white washcloth with lukewarm water, added a tiny amount of the soap, before dabbing the affected areas. Before dabbing again with a separate cloth that was just dampened with water, then carefully blotting with another washcloth that was completely dry.

You tried to keep your mind on the task in front of you but kept getting distracted. By his . . . everything. You wanted to trace every muscle with your fingers. Or your tongue. Either would be enjoyable. Or both. Both was good . . . the only thing that wasn’t making you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache in your cunt were the scars.

Not because you thought his scars were ugly. The scars were like kintsugi. The healed but visible damage made the person more beautiful, not less. But because the scars worried you. It looked like someone had tried very hard to kill Matt.

You hadn’t realized that being a lawyer was so dangerous . . . but then, Nelson & Murdock had gone up against some powerful people. People like Fisk. Had Fisk or someone like him sent someone after Matt? You glanced at his hands. He had the same calluses on his knuckles as your ex who was a boxer. Did Matt know how to box? Was that how he had survived the obvious attempt on his life?

You were curious but realized that some of the answers you wanted might require a lengthy conversation. Which you didn’t have time for. Assuming Matt was even willing to answer those questions. He might not be. Which was fine. Trauma was rather personal and you didn’t really know each other.

You returned to your task. Despite your frequent distraction, soon the clothes were cleaned to the best of your ability. All three items were hung on hangers to dry in the case of the shirt or await a trip to the dry cleaners for the other two. Something that you offered to pay for.

“No need for you to do that, sweetheart. It’s about time for that suit to go to the cleaners anyway.”

“But it’s my mess,” you protested.

You didn’t win the argument. But it wasn’t a fair fight. First, he was a lawyer. He argued with people for a living. You painted or served food and drinks. Second, he still hadn’t put on a shirt. It was very distracting. And he knew it. His opposition in court was so lucky that he had to keep all his clothes on in the courtroom. Otherwise, they’d might never win.

“Stupid, sexy Murdock,” you muttered quietly under your breath as you washed your brushes and palette. Not quietly enough because he laughed.

“I’m sexy?” Matt asked. Warmth flooded your face. Judging by that cocky smirk, he knew the answer to that question. Yes, absolutely yes. But you were absolutely not going to say that.

“I plead the Fifth,” you said. Which only made him laugh harder.

He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, when his phone started ringing out, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said.

“Go ahead,” you said quickly.

He flashed you a smile before answering his phone with a “What’s up, Fogs?”

You put away your things while Matt talked to his partner. From the sound of it, he was explaining why retrieving his phone was taking so long. A check on your watch – now cleaned of paint – warned you that you really needed to leave now if you wanted to be ready for work on time. You swung your tote up onto your shoulder.

Then found yourself in a quandary. It was rude to interrupt someone while they were on the phone but it was also rude to leave without saying good-bye. But it wasn’t like you could go just wave good-bye.

“Matt?” you called out.

“Hang on Foggy,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got to go,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t.”

For a moment, that answer confused you. But only for a moment. Blind joke. Not the first one he had made around you. It wouldn’t be the last. He seemed rather fond of them. Well, it was his disability. It certainly wasn’t your place to tell him that he couldn’t make jokes about it if he wanted to.

Besides sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he made them were very funny.

“Left myself wide open for that one, didn’t I?” you said.

“Yep,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “But yes, I’ll see you later.”

That made you smile. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said before returning to his phone call. You closed the door to his apartment as quietly as you could, then made you way across the hall toward your own apartment. Time get for work.

Step one – a cold shower.

Notes

There are portable easels that are designed to be collapsed down and easily carried. I have one. Some of them come with an attached box that is meant to carry paint, brushes, and whatever else you need but that type is more expensive (about 70 dollars on the cheaper end) than one that is just the easel (which is about 20). Reader has a limited art budget and those fifty bucks she didn’t spent on an easel can buy a lot of paint and canvas.

I’ve found that tackle boxes and tool boxes make great carrying cases for arts and crafts supplies. The divided trays are very useful if the creative thing you are doing involves a lot of little pieces or tools like beading or jewelry making.

Reader took the subway for part of her journey because, according to what I could find, getting from Hell’s Kitchen to Central Park via subway takes about 14 minutes while walking that same distance would take about 40 minutes. So the subway it was.

Magenta is, generally speaking, purplish red color. The shades vary between more pink, more red, or more purple. Even paint doesn’t always agree. I have one set on acrylic paints that labels a color as ‘light magenta’ while a different set calls the same color ‘magenta’ and third just says ‘pink.’

Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) was an American artist who was part of the abstract expressionist movement. He is best known for his ‘drip’ technique where he would pour or splash liquid house-paint with frenetic movement onto the canvas which was laying flat on the floor. In some ways, his work reminds me of acrylic pouring which looks very cool but also very messy.

I mean no disrespect to those with an art degree. I started off majoring in fine arts and part of me wishes that I had stuck with it despite the challenges. One of my professors recommended getting your masters if you were going to major in art simply because then you could get teaching jobs in many places.

That contract thing is true but I’m not a lawyer and have never taken Contracts 101. Always get your legal advice from actual lawyers.

Turpentine is used to clean paint brushes and other tools when using oil paint. A low odor version is highly recommended but remember to only use it in a well-ventilated place as the fumes are toxic. It is also very flammable. You can use it to get oil paint off of your skin but it is very drying and probably isn’t be safe to use on places like your face. The skin there easily absorbs things (which is the primary reason that make-up has go through FDA approval).

For the record, blind people don’t have better senses than everyone else. They just pay more attention to the information from their other senses provide, things that us sighted people tend to ignore. And arguably have more practice identifying different sounds, smells, etc than someone who largely ignores that input.

While I cannot say that this happens in NYC, as I have never lived there, where I grew up (American southwest) and where I live now (Florida), the grandmas and aunties in the Latin community make and sell tamales during the winter holiday season. Maybe for some extra spending money for said holidays. In my experience, they are always excellent. I almost don’t consider it Christmas without some tamales.

The reason Reader feels like a jerk for tripping over Matt’s cane is that messing with someone’s mobility aid and/or not giving them enough space to use it is a dick move.

The Bow Bridge is a bridge in Central Park. You have probably seen it before since it is pretty popular for movies and television. Probably because it looks perfect for your sappy romantic moments, dramatic love confession, meet-cutes, etc. It also helps that it looks just as nice surrounded by leafy trees as it does covered in snow.

Bob Ross (1942 – 1995) was an American painter who was the host of an instructional art show called The Joy of Painting, which aired from 1983 until 1994, on PBS (public broadcasting station) in the US but also in similar public stations around the world. You can find the episodes on YouTube.

According to the internet, you can spot clean wool, silk, and other such fabrics like how Reader does without damaging the fabric. But it was the internet so take that with a generous portion of salt.

Yes, I do use an old gift card when I paint. To make smallish straight lines, very handy for fences and rain effects. I cannot speak for every artist but my painting tools aren’t limited to brushes and painting knives.

Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that has been dusted or mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The point is not to hide the damage but highlight it, to treat the breakage and repair as simply part of the object’s history. And that having such a history makes it more valuable, not less.

#fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem! reader #matt murdock x you #happy little accident series

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thedustyleaves · 5 months

Note

Sorry if you’ve answered this before, but I really love how your illustrations have such a cohesive color palette, how do you pick your colors to have a certain theme without looking monochromatic?

(In your breakdown on the saloon/western BP illustration, you mentioned that the overall color was reddish brown so you added blue to the main group to set them apart. But like how did you decide on which reddish brown colors to use for the flats?)

Thank you!! Your art is really expressive and the colors always work so well in the illustration. I’m always in awe of your pics

That’s an excellent question! My drawings actually start out pretty monochromatic because I tend to put most of my effort into the lighting and shading part to help differentiate where I want people to look.

For all of my pieces, I want my characters to be in focus. So no matter what, I always have to keep their main colors in mind and make sure their outfits and the background don’t clash with them (Kain’s red hair tends to be a problem, pft).

For my flats, I generally work with two main colors that tend to contrast each other and then I mix a lot of neutrals around them. (Sometimes the main colors are in the light and shading itself, but I’ll just focus on the flats!).

Sometimes, I will change the hue of their colors. So while Kain has bright orange hair, I will dull it down if it overwhelms the piece or doesn’t fit with the tone - like I did for the cowboy drawing - but never so much that it no longer looks like him.

With the cowboy drawing as an example, if I strip it down to my flats, it instantly becomes very dull and monochromatic. I really enjoy working with these colors because they’re easy on the eyes (or my eyes specifically) and I can see the difference in subtle hues a lot better than if they were very high in contrast. I like working with subtleties when I want background characters to become a single unit but still be separated as individual people.

When I picked the colors for the background, I wanted to separate the characters from the walls. Therefore, I kept the walls red and gold, and the characters brown - they’re still within the same warm-colored family, but they’re far enough away from each other that they don’t become one with each other. I also like to not have clothes from different characters blend together, so overlapping colours can't be the same. I made one coat lighter than the other, the glove warmer than the dark jacket, and so on.

(their coats are also in the same realm as the green/gold colour of the details for the curtains and the frames on the walls)

For the paintings I actually chose to put a bit of blue and green in to help create some interest for the main characters and keep your eyes around that area, as it matches the blue they’re wearing, just a whole lot darker. It also makes them pop just enough so they look interesting against the wall, but not enough to overshadow the main characters

I know, because of the way I work with layers, that when I add my overlays, I automatically brighten and saturate the colors a lot. It’s a lot easier for me to saturate something “dull” and move it into all kinds of hues than saturating something already high in contrast and then trying to force it into a new color theme.

But because of this, I usually have to go back and change the colors I work with constantly while the overlays are on. Since the overlays don’t know what sort of materials they’re laying on top of, everything gets lighter and washed out, so dark skin tones, hair, and clothes have to be corrected one by one afterward. If I were to remove the overlays after I corrected it to make it feel like a dark blue outfit on Raki, it’s basically just a black void now; but with the overlay, it’s a dark blue outfit. Before that, he simple blended in with the background too much and he didn’t feel like he was a part of the group either.

I always try to put down colors how I imagine they’re going to look like, unaffected by light, but I’m also naturally drawn toward more earthy and warm tones, so all of my color choices will tend to lean that way.

Here’s another example of main colours vs. neutrals; the main colours are red and green/turquoise, with dark browns and greys to encapsulate them, and gold for accents or to make certain things pop (the chair, Dakon’s dark coat, etc.).

I never want them all to wear the exact same color, but I want them to feel connected and be in the same 'colour family,' so Dakon and Kain have nearly the same dark red/brown, and Christie and Raki have nearly the same 'bright'/red.

The blacks and browns, I’ve kept warm as well, so they stay within that realm of red. I also make sure that none of them are too close to Kain’s hair since he’s in the middle of the piece, and I want your eyes to be drawn toward the middle, and his orange hair helps with that.

The paintings I basically do not care too much about, as long as each individual painting has a single dominating colour. I mute them down with a darker overlay and ensure they don’t have strong shadows and light, so they get pushed to the background, so despite being a bunch of different colours, each painting feels like a solid color and they’re still cast in the same light as the rest of the piece, so they feel like they belong in the same room.

I try to help move the eye around the piece as well, so I keep the big painting sort of in the same realm of red and brown as the main characters, because it’s so big it shouldn’t dominate with a new color and force interest toward it. The blue/purple ones melt in with the background as they’re close to the turquoise background, but without disappearing, the yellow ones work sort of like the gold accents and blend in with the frames, and the green paintings at the top give the illusion of a monochrome fade, so everything gets more eerie and green as the image goes up - there’s also a subtle green fade that affects the gold accents from the top down, to enhance that effect.

This is just a few examples, if there are any pieces in particular you were thinking of, and it’s neither of these, just let me know, and I can break those down as well!

Thank you for the question; I hope I answered it somewhat, and thank you for the kind words! <3

#asks #tutorial

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akystaracer22 · 2 months

Text

Distrust Fall:

A leap of faith gone wrong, an eternal promise kept eternally. No matter how long it has been some things never truly change.

Notes

How to fail a trust fall: Step one

Vaggie's relationship with Adam is very complicated, but at the moment there is a lot of animosity and it shows.

Adam is of the opinion that Sorry doesn’t mean jack shit if you make the mistake again, so he just doesn’t apologise because he thinks he’ll just fuck up again so there’s no point.

The hotel needs a licensed therapist at this point dear lord.

Alastor still isn’t over the whole “Radio is fucking dead” thing.

If there is one thing that Adam knows off by heart, it’s the names of animals scientific or otherwise. That was the guys job once upon a time and assuming he doesn’t know that stuff is the true quickest way to piss him off. He’s also really good with animals which pisses off Anthony because Fat Nuggets *likes* Adam and it drives the sinner up a wall.

Alastor and Lucifer are on the ground. Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and Adam are on the roof.

Alastor was going to let him get a cm from the ground before catching him dw.

Lucifer used to be friends with Adam in the garden because I live for that sweet sweet friends to enemies tragedy.

Adam really does not like people staring at his face, it’s a mild form of scopophobia caused by his time in heaven with people always giving him shit for how he looked, particularly his facial features (Yes I drew on everyone calling him ugly and average on twitter and shit). He used the mask to get around it, that way people couldn’t actually see what he looked like.

This was originally 1260 but then I got an idea that blew this out by 500 words lol.

The graveyard with be elaborated on in a future connected one shot.

This is officially a fully fledged AU

Regarding Adam's claws, they're gold to combat the greyness of his palette, but also as a nod to Midas, the arrogant king who's touched turned everything to gold. Angelic blood is also gold so if you want you can interpret it as having blood on his hands.

Fingerless gloves because I thing they're neat.

I based Lucifer's wings off of duck wings!

Also Lucifer's angelic appearance was based on space. I heard Sera call Charlie "Daughter of the Morning Star" and I went feral.

He has a full shifting night sky in his wings, clothes, and hat.

Angels have white pupils now I don't make the rules.

References saved my life.

Word count: 1725

(Comic and fic under the cut! Click for better quality)

@irregular-child

Adam leaned away from the edge as the wind drifted through his wings, keenly aware of the fact that his wings wouldn’t break his fall and he did not in fact trust jack shit in hell to break it except the ground.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m with princess perfect this is a fucking death sentence,” Adam agreed, a little reluctantly because it was still the princess of hell, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Vaggie smirked, because of course she did because she was trying to kill him, he wasn’t that dense, and just shrugged, “I mean, worked for me didn’t it?”

“That wasn’t even a fucking trust fall that was to get you to fucking fly and you know it! Fucking bitch,” The first man scowled and tried to step away from the edge, the crack whore of an arachnid immediately shoving him back up, “Would you fuck off?!”

“Would you stop being a dick?”

“Would you stop sucking them?”

The white jumping spider stared at him for a long moment and Vaggie stepped away from him for once, great! Cool! One person was leaving him alone and soon a second one will!

Great! About fucking time they got the message-

-------]

Lucifer paced nervously around Dazzle’s statue; this was a terrible idea. Having Adam go through a trust fall this early was going to end in disaster one way or another.

The main issue being nobody liked Adam and wouldn’t care if he fell. Hell, Charlies girlfriend has already tried to kill Adam off for good multiple times since he got here!

This was going to be a mess; Alastor was supposed to be catching Adam but he was just standing there looking completely unprepared and-

“Are you going to get ready or not.” Lucifer snapped at the radio demon, wings flicking out behind him in agitation.

“Oh, I have no intention of catching him.”

Lucifer froze, his tail stilling before lashing behind him as he turned on the deer-eared sinner, “What.”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, and I think you should try that again.”

“And why are you getting so worked up, hm?” The sinner hummed, sneering down at the king, “Last I checked, the first man was your enemy after he tried to kill your own daughter.”

“I-” Lucifer paused, then scowled because Alastor was right. Why was he getting so worked up over this. This was Adam they were talking about. Adam who was crass and rude and cold to everyone. Adam, who would rather sit in his room all day than even look at any of them. Adam who was…

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

…

“I can see why they left me for you.”

…

“It is good to see you again my friend! Come, much has changed since your last visit!”

… Adam who was so much more than who he was now. Who was probably the only person left in hell that remembered Eden.

Damnit.

“That’s none of your business you son of a bitch,” The fallen angel snapped at the cannibal, eliciting nothing more than a growing grin from the bastard.

Not a day went by in hell where Lucifer wished that this wasn’t his circus and that the sinners weren’t his monkeys.

Someone screamed above him.

The seraphim whipped his head up, eyes widening as he registered Adam twisting the air as he was shoved off the roof by Angel Dust.

Fear struck his heart like an exorcists blade when the first man tried to use his wings to glide, only for a single wing beat to send him into a spiral hurtling towards the ground.

He caught Adams eye for a single moment before it was obscured by his good wing, the man was terrified. He didn’t know sinners reformed after death and despite it all. Lucifer would never wish someone to experience falling from their death after quite literally falling from heaven.

Not even on Adam.

Something in his heart spurred the king into action, kicking off the ground as his wings snapped open to catch the air. A single beat of his wings and he was already well off the ground.

Lucifer reached a hand up for Adam as the fallen angel reached out to him in kind, panic written across both their faces at the idea of a horrible accident.

Lucifer’s wings moved the air one more time and-

“And… you will catch me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, a gentle chiming sound from where he stood behind Gods first man. He was trying to show him a game Lucifer and his kin would play from time to time amongst the spires of heaven.

The game was simple, one angel was to stand up high with their wings folded and fall. Then the other angel was to catch them. It was supposed to build trust, not to mention it was a delight in and of itself.

Standing amongst the grasses of Eden, Lucifer saw no reason not to share this game with Adam. He’s already grown fond of the way that Gods creation would go out of his way to show the angel what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“Be not afraid my friend!” Lucifer’s wings spread quietly to punctuate his point, divine magic threading his words, The Voice ensuring that the first man would hear and believe him.

“No matter how far you fall, I shall always be there to catch you.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms securely around the fallen angel as his wings curled around wing and man alike, bracing himself as the added weight as they both fell together.

It’s funny, it reminded him of when Adam first fell, a fiery ball that could have almost been mistaken as a shooting star had Lucifer not known better.

They hid the ground with a slam and the fallen seraphim had to bite back a shriek as his wings took the brunt of the force. They’d be left aching for a while.

Lucifer grunted as he pushed Adam off of him, sitting up and folding his wings in, allowing them to slip out of existence while they healed, he definitely didn’t want to do that again.

He slowly got to his feet while the first man got his bearings, dusting himself off and rubbing his shoulders to try and alleviate the pain.

“Why the fuck did you save me?”

Lucifer jerked and looked down at Adam from where he was glaring up at him, a note of confusion held carefully in his gaze before it dropped.

“I-”

“Well, isn’t this quite a surprise!”

Lucifer’s expression shot into a scowl as he rounded on the radio demon very blatantly interrupting the moment. The bastard just grinned and stared down at the both of them.

From the corner of his eyes Lucifer noted Adam’s good wing hitching up instinctively to cover his face from the demons gaze before dropping.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the radio demon with a glare that could melt steel, “You were going to let him fall,”

“I was going to do no such thing,”

“You just said-!”

“I said nothing you just assumed I was going to do nothing at all!”

“Listen here you!” Lucifer was just off again by the main doors opening and the other’s all barrelling out at the commotion.

Lost in the sudden onslaught of attention and having to field Alastor’s snarky comments, Anthony’s suggestive remarks, and Charlie’s concern, he didn’t see Adam flee the scene.

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to recognize the first man’s absence, searching the hotel to see if Adam was okay.

He found him at the graveyard, sitting among the many tombstones for the exorcists slain in the battle that caused Adam to fall.

Lucifer paused at the entrance to the burial ground, watching Adam sit there facing away from him for what felt like an eternity.

Despite the dead being gone, the king of hell still felt like the exorcists weapons were pointed at him, a warning that if he made one wrong move they would rise from their graves to protect their leader, to avenge him, to strike Lucifer down in an instant.

The once-angel of the morning star carefully stepped away from the cemetery, making sure he didn’t break the silence. Even if Adam wanted to be disturbed, he wasn’t the right person to do it, not in this place.

Besides, he still had his own thoughts to sort through, like why in the name of the divine he saved Adam when he would have survived regardless. He would have been fine even if he did hit the ground unimpeded so why-

Lucifer grimaced as the answer stuck to him like a parasite, he knew damn well why he saved him. It was the same stupid reason he preened Adams wings for him, the same reason he treats the first man’s wing rot and the exact same reason he made that deal with Adam after he fell.

He was attached.

Stupids horribly foolishly, Lucifer still cared for Adam even after everything.

By the stars he beat Adam within an inch of his life! Adam tried to kill his daughter!

But emotions were hardly logical. They weren’t logical when he fell for Lilith in the garden and taught her and Adam both The Voice, they weren’t logical when he freed Eve, and they weren’t logical now.

Lucifer cared for Adam, even if by all logic he should hate the man.

“Dad?”

Lucifer looked up to meet his daughters eyes, a small smile letting her know he was okay, “Hey there Duckie.”

Charlie’s expression softened at the nickname even if he still looked concerned, “Dad… are you sure you’re okay?”

“If I’m not now, I will be, so stop worrying about little old me Char-char,” Lucifer chuckled, “However… Adams in the graveyard if you want to talk to him, he seems like he needs some company right now.”

He made his exit quickly after that, he knew what Charlie would do, it was in her nature to help people, it was what made her so special.

But Lucifer, he helped people once, and now… he had a new person he could help again.

And he might just know where to start.

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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

Text

kinktober day three: mirror kink

>>> day three already woot woot! i hope you all are loving it so far, because i know i am! this is past me in the notes but it seems like these pieces are gonna get longer everyday at this rate lmfao. i picked keigs for the mirror because birb need luv

>>> starring: keigo takami (hawks) x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: brief daddy use, doggy, highly emotional tbh i'm actually sorry, teasing, praise, pet names. >>>wc: 3.5k >>> event masterlist

keigo loves planning nights like these. you’re his special person, and his favorite pastime is making sure you know it. every so often, sometime around payday, he’ll come home with bags on bags, a dopey grin covering his face as he sashays to the bedroom of your shared apartment. he just can’t wait to show you what he got you this time, exclusively keeping his high-paying pro-hero job because it allows him to spoil his girlfriend with lavish riches.

you weren’t high maintenance at all. at least, you didn’t start out that way. you were just you, a simple civilian that worked at the hospital he was brought into during the war with all for one. you were an adorable bedside nurse, sweet and careful in all the ways you tended to his wounds and listened to his nervous ramblings about his friends and students. you talked him through his anxieties, spending precious hours of your shift soothing him and keeping him company. he watched you get in trouble time and time again for messing the shift rotation up with your habit of staying by his side. it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, to genuinely listen and to touch him with care, a worry an affection in your eyes he wasn’t sure he had seen from anyone before.

it was no surprise that he kept in touch with you once he was discharged from the hospital. and luckily, to his relief, you offered to support him through rehabilitation, helping him with his fittings for his prosthetics and keeping his spirits high when his self-worth was at its very lowest. keigo never had someone to call his, and the first time he met you, that was the last thing on his mind. but you were still there, months later, giving him the idea to try swords and katanas as replacements for his sharp wings. it wasn’t long until he was back on the battlefield using all the support items and your suggestions to make him feel like hawks again. he was still covered with burn scars, but they seemed less mangling than before. it was probably all those salves you put on him, your healing hands doing more for his heart and mind than his body at times.

so when the war was won, and it was time to say thank you for all the things you had done for him, he found himself taking you on expensive dates and paying for your hair appointments when you casually mentioned a new look you wanted to try. he caught himself picking out nail colors and shoes–at one time they were nike’s but now they were prada or jimmy choo. not that he minded, in fact, it was his insistence that you started expanding your palette to the expensive side anyhow. you were more than content to hold his heart and let him pay for your facials, but your whiny boyfriend practically begs for you to take his card and spend every dollar.

you learned early on, if you didn’t spend it yourself, he would do this, take the day away from you, raiding the mall for anything new you didn’t already have hanging in your room-sized closet. you could hear the rustling of the paper and plastic bags rubbing against each other, a knowing smile spreading across your cheeks. and sure, maybe months ago you were just a humble nurse. but keigo’s constant babying may or may not have created a small spoiled brat. you sit up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to greet your loving partner, squealing when his excited eyes and crinkled up nose peek around the corner with a wide grin.

“guess what i got you.” he titters, revealing the evidence of his shopping. he holds his other arm out to accept your waiting hug, stepping close enough to the bed for you to throw your arms around him in greeting. you looked so cute in your silk pajamas, just waiting in your shared bed for him to return to you. you’ve been able to reduce the amounts of shifts you take at the hospital now that you barely have any of your own bills to pay, and that was being generous. he usually paid those too, but you refused to go jobless until you had a ring—and well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be much longer. you had a fresh maintenance day yesterday, the highlights of your hair freshly toned, your brows waxed and tinted, a new set of lashes and nails–you look too good to be true like always, like you deserve for being so good to him. you’re perfect, and he cannot wait to see how you look in the things he bought you, keigo’s special girl.

you hum playfully in thought, pressing your silken crop-top bound chest against his. he can tell you don’t have a bra on, and the thought delights him. you rarely wore anything but your slutty pajamas or the special selection of lingerie he had curated for you. one he was excited to add to tonight. you giggle and press a kiss to his stubble covered jaw, and throw out your best guess. “hmmm, shoes?”

he chuckles, tucking some loose strands of your hair back behind your ear so he could admire your saccharine smile. he hums, nodding. you were right after all, that was part of it. “mhm, good, my little dove. what else?”

you smile under the praises, trying to eye the bags as he snakes his arm around your waist, setting them on the bed for you. “jewelry?” you offer with an arched brow, watching his face for a hint. his amber eyes gleam with pride—and you knew you were right again. he nods, his calloused hand sneaks under your skimpy top and the warm touch makes you press yourself further into his leather and whiskey scented chest.

“the prettiest. i think you’ll like it, lovebird.” he grins, squeezing your hip. “do you know what else i got my pretty girl?” he coos, reaching for a big black dolce & gabbana bag, containing a pretty bowed box. he always paid them extra to wrap it like a christmas gift, watching your face light up as you pulled the ribbon free always melted his heart a little. he passes the box over to you for that exact reason, returning his arm around your back to watch you open it.

you squeal excitedly, giving his jaw another quick peck. you tug the pale bow off the box with great care, and his smile grows. inside lays a beautiful black bra and panty set, one he no doubt wants you to model for him. you gasp at the pieces, lacy and strappy, decorated with black dots against the sheer balconette style mesh. the thong was just a pathetic little triangle piece, mostly to say you had something on, if you had to guess. you beam up at him, giving him a proper kiss on the lips to signify your approval.

“thank you daddy, it’s so beautiful! you’re too good to me!” you sing, freeing the lingerie of their confines to splay it out on your bed. he chuckles and shakes his head.

“oh i could never even give you what you deserve, sweetness.” he hums, reaching for the tiffany & co bag. he holds it out for you next, letting you fish out the boxes inside. for this, he sits on the bed before you, hands tucked into the pockets of his tan coat, smirking up at his darling love. you peer at him over the pile of little teal boxes in your hand, arching your brow. he only chuckles, urging you to open it with his suggestive glare. he’s undressing you with his bedroom stare already, just waiting for you to put on all your pretty gifts so he could further appreciate you in them. you notice him shifting around, trying to hide the bulge he always gets from watching you jump around and celebrate how much he loves you. it was adorable, he couldn’t help but derive pleasure from it.

you quickly tear into these three boxes, finding a pure diamond choker, bracelet, and matching stud earrings waiting to be adorned by your perfect body. you gasp at him, shaking your head in shock. you know how expensive these had to be, and you refused to accept such a crazy gift—especially paired with other things! as spoiled as he’s made you, you still look at him in disbelief.

“what? i saw you looking at these last time. my name is hawks, after all, babygirl.” he winks, plucking the necklace from the box and turning his index in a circle to have you turn around for him in order to dangle the choker around your neck. he clasps the hook and then puts the bracelet on the wrist closest to him, leaving the earrings up to you. he turns you back to him by the shoulders, grinning valiantly–but you can see the borderline hunger lurking beneath. his siren gaze darts over to the dainty fabric still laying stiff and undisturbed on the bed. “open the last box, ‘nd then i wanna see everything altogether.”

he bites down on his bottom lip in anticipation as he passes you the final bag, a big paper bag from—you knew what these must be immediately, and it has you squealing with joy, as you knew exactly why he saved this gift for last. “keigo, you shouldn’t have, i really cannot believe you!” you shift your weight from foot to foot, pulling the slim black box out of the paper bag, pushing the lid off with haste.

he still sits next to you, his hands sprawled out behind him so he could lean back now, bionic wings still attached from the day. he would only remove them before sleeping, still incredibly insecure and lost without his real ones. he admired your giddiness, this emotion flowing from you was exactly the reason he would do whatever it takes to keep gifts like these flowing. you dangle the pricey so kate style red bottoms at him, jumping with glee. you nearly tackle him backward with the force of your arms around his neck, screaming your thanks in his ear. he only chuckles and wraps his arms around you in response, lightly slapping your ass to make you yelp.

“now go and put everything on—been waiting to see you in it all day.” he pouts, jutting his chin towards your walk in closet. in all fairness, it was a second bedroom keigo had converted to a walk in for you. it was decorated with several mirrors along one wall, allowing you to get all the best angles of your outfits and accessories that your boyfriend no doubt provided. you snatched the newest goodies up and scampered off to get changed, feeling the warmth building in your chest and stomach just from the way he looks at you. you knew he had struggled with his own appearance since you met him, and you hated that. sometimes you wish you could spoil him the same way he does you, but he always swears your affection makes him feel like he’s still soaring on top of the world.

you complete the jewelry trio by putting in the stunning studs he got, simple but huge cut diamonds perfectly accenting your features. then you tug on your new set and slip into your shoes, admiring your own reflection in the ballet studio-esque mirroring. maybe he admired you so much because he no longer could look at himself with the same fondness that you gaze at yourself—or him— with. you were stunning, that was indisputable, but it made you sad that your once notoriously cocky boyfriend now shrunk away from the sight of his own appearance. a physical lightbulb may as well have popped up over your head. “mm, daddy? wanna come help me with the buckle?”

he should have known it was a set up. you’ve put on much more involved outfits before without his assistance. when he strolls in, ready to lend a helping hand, you’re already on the floor on your hands and knees—and the lingerie he picked looks heavenly. he can see why the louboutins were so sought after, elongating your sexy legs and exposing the signature red bottoms to him from this angle. you wiggle your perky ass, and he salivates, the semi he’s been fighting turning into a full on boner. you’re looking back over your shoulder at him with that devilish smirk on your face, and it’s then he realizes you’ve tricked him into fucking you in front of your mirror wall. and to his surprise, his cock jumps in his pants as he meets your eyes through one of the panes. you’re unimaginably gorgeous, dripping in diamonds that sparkle in the soft lighting. he can see straight down that bra, and before he can doubt himself, he’s yanking his hard cock free from his sweats and tugging on it roughly. his breathing is heavy already, the worry starting to creep in. at times it was hard to be intimate with you, not because he didn’t absolutely crave you in almost a sinister sense, but because of his own insecurities. he knows you were familiar with him before, though you only met him after the damage was done. yet still, he can’t help but worry the scars covering his face and body will gross you out one day.

“c’mere daddy…wanna look at you like this, make you see how pretty you are.” you wiggle your ass for him again, the globes taunting him into compliance. when he lowers himself to his knees he can tell how needy you are. it must turn you on a bit to think about him taking you like this, though he can’t deny his own curiosity at the idea. his hands smooth down the curve of your back, all the way to the nape of your neck and back down to grasp your wide hips to steady himself. he licks his lips as you wiggle in his grip, making a mewl of anticipation. “please, look…i think you’re so pretty…i like the marks, makes you look all handsome and tough,” you whine so sweetly it makes his cock throb. “‘nd i need you so bad, the you i see in the mirror right now, is the sexiest man alive.”

he chortles and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of blush sting his cheeks. he peels his shirt off, discarding it somewhere in the vicinity. “yeah, yeah, hush.” he beckons, spreading your cheeks with the help of you scooting your knees further for him. it did boost his ego to hear you talk so fondly of him. you didn’t miss the old pro-hero you looked up to—you love him as is. he knows it, he’s sure of it, it’s why he spoils you relentlessly, but hearing you say it did things to him.

“nuh-uh, i wan’ you to see…breaks my heart to hear you complainin’ ‘bout how you look…’cause you’re perfect.” you pout, wiggling back on his shaft. he helps guide himself inside, sheathing to the hilt. you do spoil him, you just didn’t realize it. the way you love him was all he needed, with the sweet words spilling out of your mouth and the choking grip your cunt has around him—the view of your face melting in the mirror felt like special treat.

you moan out your delight, throwing your ass back against him to get him to start moving, the view of your pouty face while in doggy kept him paralyzed and utterly drunk, too busy admiring all of his gifts against your skin and the warmth of being inside you to remember to do anything about it. he chuckles breathily when he feels your recoil, giving you an affectionate slap to the bum. he starts to move in tandem to your little bounces, his eyes fluttering shut at the way you squeeze and release his curved cock. it feels so good, you can identify the veins and ridges as they drag through your walls. you don’t close your eyes though, no, your eyes are locked on his form in the mirror. he’s unreal, the slow pace at which he fucks you just driving you crazy. he’s a god, golden and chiseled, his smile enough to give you life on your darkest days. you wanted him to admit it.

you crawl forward a little, out of his reach, off his cock. he frowns at you in the mirror. “come back.” he pouts, making grabby hands for you.

you giggle, shaking your head. “not ‘til you smile at yourself and say ‘i’m the prettiest pro hero with the prettiest princess in the whole world.’” you say, sticking your tongue out at him in the mirror, admiring his naked form behind you. he huffs, letting his gaze drift between your face in the mirror and your ass in front of his face. he crosses his arms over his burned chest, arching a brow at you.

“you know, i could say you’re being ungrateful.” he whines, not able to fully challenge you. you wiggle your ass at him again and arch your challenging brow back at him. for the second time, he huffs. but he realizes that there’s no use fighting you. he learned that lesson when you were his nurse. he would give in, or else. he lets his gaze drift back to your round ass and dripping pussy just waiting for him to come back to you, and he sighs. he loves starting slow just to tease you, but it seems like you have your own master plan in mind. keigo’s eyes drift back to the mirror, where he sees your eagerly awaiting face. you look over his face and body with all the adoration and affection in the world, and he feels that with your confidence, he can believe in himself and give you some peace of mind. he meets his own eyes in the mirror and nods. he certainly has come a long way, and he may never return to his former glory, but if this is the man you love—that’s enough. more than enough. he can be happy to be that man, your man. he smiles at you, then at himself. “i’m the prettiest pro-hero.” he nods with a broad smile as his gaze falls back down to you. “and i have the prettiest princess in the whole world.” he concludes, to which you coo and applaud him. he walks forward on his knees, greedily tugging you back on him, plunging his length back deep with a relieved moan.

he doesn’t waste any time by teasing, either, holding the creases of your hips like they were his own personal handlebars, he slams into your heat, the grip of your cunt so choking he can’t control the loud groans he lets loose. you have to actively focus on holding yourself up, entranced with the sight of his pussy-drunk face, high on pleasure. his cock angles so perfectly in this position, abusing your cervix just the way he likes. it has your limbs shaking as you struggle to keep absorbing the force of his hip and your moans bordering on screams. he just loves you so much, he has to spoil the woman who’s given him everything. he knows you love him like this, that’s why you crawled into that position in the first place.

“that’s my girl, taking it so good for me.” he nods his approval, his arm dipping to support your hips. thanks to the mirror, he can see the tears drop from the corner of your eyes, the wavering of your arms as you struggle to hold yourself up. you nod to his praise, squealing extra loud, you love being his girl. his hand dips to rub a messy pace against your clit, groaning at how you jerk and arch in response. “fuck, i can see everything like this, little dove. you look so pretty…all the diamonds suit my jewel just right.” he pants between punishing strokes, even though he’s giving you the reward of a lifetime.

you nod, forcing your eyes open to watch him rut into you, mouth open in a silent scream while his jaw drops in awe. you’re absolutely perfect. you fold over, falling completely against his arm, clenching down on him so hard it nearly hurt him. you whimper, “gon’ cum daddy, you’re s’good…”

he nods egging you on as he presses into your nerves harder, giggling as your legs shake and give out completely. it sends him over the edge, his eyes glued to your face in the mirror as he shoves his seed deep, continuously fucking it deeper with his hard strokes, only letting up when he was sure you couldn’t take another pump. he smiles at your fucked out appearance, hair knotted and sprawled out, the lingerie shifted just enough to let him enjoy all of you, your tearstained cheeks—and thighs. he leans over to kiss your shoulderblade, staying there to catch your breath. for a minute, all there is to be heard is panting, but soon keigo chuckles again, and scoops you out of the floor.

“now it’s time for the real princess treatment, lovebird.” he hums, taking you towards the bathroom for a fresh bubble bath of your choosing.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesmha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #hawks x reader #mha hawks #hawks #bnha hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #takami keigo x reader #mirror x hawks #day three

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romanreignseater · 11 months

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Our Reflection.

Jey Uso x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18 +

Warning: Probably my dirtiest story yet. It’s just pure filth. Brace yourself.

“Being two beautiful people in a relationship causes us to look in the mirror quite often. So, why not take a chance and fuck in front of it.”

A/N: They need to stop targeting our Bloodline hero, Mr. Main Event Jey Uso. That’s my man and I got his back. Sorry… I’m in my feeling about NOC 😭. Had to write for my him, but I also got a Jimmy fic coming out soon, so stay tuned. Also, I didn’t forget about my Dean fic it’s still coming out as well.

GIF: @jeysuso

“You really think you could guess my Chipotle order?!”

My husband, Jey, smiled through FaceTime. “I feel the vibes right now, like that telepathic shit.”

I couldn’t even contain my laughter at his remark of us being telepathic. “So, what do I want then baby?!”

“Well, obviously you always want me that’s a given.” I rolled my eyes at slick comment and he cheesed real hard.

“Okay then with yo fine ass, what do I want?!”

“I thought I was handsome.” His hand over his heart as if he were hurt. “You’re actually an idiot.” Jey soon began sniffling like he was going to cry, eyes closed and all.

This boy really in the middle of Chipotle actin a fool.

“Okayyy… handsome.” He peeled one eye open and smirked at me lovingly. “What. Do. I. Want?!”

He opened his mouth, giving me a long and very dramatic pause just to say, “I can’t tell you that mama. But, I know you always get chips and guac, so that’s all you need to know.”

This boy better get my burrito.

——————————————————————————

Roughly about two hours later, I began doing my makeup. My girls invited me out to a quick little lunch.

I’ve been waiting for Jey, but my chipotle STILL… had yet to arrive. I wasn’t gonna sit around and not get me something to eat. So, lunch with my girls it was.

Trin was on her way to pick me up, so I had some time to kill. The 28’ inch jet black silky buss down was laid, and the all black outfit was hugging my curves in all the right places. My top had a heart cutout right at my cleavage showcasing my ample breasts and my leggings were definitely holding my ass tight.

As I looked in the mirror, making sure everything was looking right before I continued my makeup. In the mirror I could see Mr. Main Event Jey Uso standing in the doorway admiring me.

Looking down at his reflection, I could see a Chipotle bag in his hand. But, when looking up I could see his bottom lip sheathed behind his teeth.

Turning back around to the mirror continuing my makeup, “Look who decided to show up.”

I could hear Jey’s heavy size 13 feet nearing me. Looking up from my eyeshadow palette, my husband’s big frame could surround my entire body. He stood behind me with his hat on backwards, gold link chain dancing on his neck, Niu Tat crop top, and black cotton Nike shorts.

“And where yo’ ass think you going looking this fine?!”

Jey pressed himself against my backside, and I could feel his heavy member stabbing me in the ass. The bag of food was placed on the counter and Jey’s hands were placed on the counter in front of me, practically trapping me between the both of them.

“I hope you got what I wanted sir.”

I continued doing my eyeshadow and Jey looked at me with utter confusion. He pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “You ain’t answer my question.” (Just imagining this is Jey’s voice 😩).

“And I don’t want to, your ass took forever with my food.”

Jey’s lips soon traveled down my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking at it passionately. I completely ignored his gestures, and he could tell his neck kisses weren’t working.

“I got you a burrito, I felt that telepathic shit.”

“That’s cute babe, but I got plans to go eat out anyways.” Turning around I swiped a little eyeshadow on his cheek. I giggle as his face remained stone cold.

“So… who you got these ‘plans’ with?!”

“Nunya.”

Jey’s face changed from a sly and hard stare, to a completely hard stare.

“So you’re telling me… you going out to eat, looking all good, smelling all good, just to make me upset cause I brought your Chipotle late?!”

I paused brush strokes and looked him in his eyes in the mirror. “I still would’ve went out with the girls, even if you brought the Chipotle earlier. So… I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“What I’m gonna tell you is what I’m gonna do to you.” Jey begins to sort of pace around me back and forth. He then walks back behind me and bent my back over the counter slowly.

“What are you doing boy?! I got a lunch to go to.”

My breasts were soon pressed against the counter, and Jey’s knees spread my legs apart. His grip on my back arrived to the back of my neck and my breathing became heavier.

He bent down to my level in front of the mirror, looking me in my eyes and said, “Imma eat this pussy real good, fuck you real hard, you finna eat this burrito, and then I’ll think about letting you go out,”

His commands made me very upset, but also really wet.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but I gotta finish getting ready.” As I tried to get up from my bent position, I couldn’t. Jey’s strength totally overpowered mine and there was really no way I’d get up.

“Yo’ ass ain’t going nowhere.” I yelped as a smack was placed on my ass. A couple more smacks were laid upon my ass and tears began to well up in my eyes.

“Aww, you crying and I didn’t even fuck you yet. And to think yo’ ass was tryna run from this dick. Tsk tsk tsk.” I looked up at him with fury.

Jey’s hands went from the back of my neck to my clothed, pulsing mound. Massaging it ever so gracefully. Goosebumps arose from my arms and Jey chuckled, practically enjoying the reactions I was trying not to give him.

Jey shocked me by ripping my leggings straight down the middle, panties and all.

“JEY!! WHAT THE FUC-.” His large and bear like hands covered my mouth, nearly my entire face. “Shhhhh.” He placed a kiss on top of my head and his fingers traveled from my neck to my cunt.

Rubbing my slick juices all over the entirety of my pussy. “Unhh, oh my g-.” I moaned through his hand, but I soon stopped moaning as Jey paused his ministrations. Looking at him with pure anger, he took his wet fingers into his mouth and sucked on my juices.

“That shit tasty mama.” Even though, he was pissing me off, he was just so irresistible. “I’m about to go to town on that pussy.”

I watched as his head dipped down and he was at level with my pussy. I felt him spread my lips apart and his hot breath cascading it. His thick thumb traced my pussy lips gently and he pressed it against my clit.

“Gotta taste it before I fuck it huh?!” As I tried to get a word out, he dived right in. He spread his mouth over my center. My hand traveled behind and was placed on the back of his head while he went to work. He drooled all over this pretty little pussy, causing me to whimper and whine for him.

Jey slurped on me a little more before bringing his hand up to meet my ass with a stinging slap. I continued to breathe deeply as he was really eating it from the back.

He feasted wholeheartedly on me, not stopping. This pussy belonged to him all day, everyday, whenever he wanted it, and he damn sure was getting it now. My legs shook as I felt the pressure build up. “Unhhhh, I’m cumming Jey.”

“Cum for daddy mama.” His saliva drooled from my ass to my clit, making even more of a mess. Just absolutely tonguing me down to the max. I came all over his tongue and I shook with pleasure. But, I soon screamed as he didn’t stop.

The overstimulation was getting to me, and I knew I was going to burst. My ears to deaf the other sounds, the only thing I could hear was the gushy noises coming from his filthy mouth.

“Oh my god, I’M CUMMING AGAIN!!”

“Go on baby.” My pussy lips quivered as Jey continually made out with it sloppily. I reached my high and squirted all over Jey’s face.

I had an out of body experience as Jey rubbed me through out the rest of my orgasm. My ass gained a couple more abusive smacks and Jey’s shorts were dropping.

Lifting my head up and arching my back for me, Jey told me his exact plans. “I’m for real about to get balls deep in my shit, ya understand me?!” My eyes lowered and breath staggered as I tried my best to look at him in his eyes.

“Ya understand me princess?!”

Gulping, I accept his orders. “Yes daddy.”

“Don’t be running now.”

I couldn’t really make no promises of that, cause if he got to hitting that spot; which I knew he would, it would be a wrap.

His swollen mushroom tip glided against my cunt savagely, spreading my juices all over his tip. Jey soon pressed his tan brown dick in, gently massaging my walls instantly.

He smacked my ass once more. “That ass juicy just like that pussy.”

“Just fuck me boy.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He pushed my chest deeper into the counter, getting in a few solid strokes of that monster dick before gradually picking up speed. He starts stroking me so good, and the pleasure is near unbearable. “Okay baby, stop I’m cumming.”

“Already?! I barely started and I’m having fun.”

My little manicured hands were placed upon his rock hard abs trying to get him to stop. “I’m serious STOP!!” My pussy was getting obliterated and Jey had yet to stop. I began squirting all over his cock and my whole body began to convulse.

“Damn girl… I was about to get my leg up on the counter so I could really hit that shit.” My breath was sucked out of my lungs and my heart felt like it had just stopped. Jey held onto the sides of my stomach and waited for my breathing to calm down.

“You better be ready now, cause ain’t no stopping.”

He placed his length back into my cunt, stretching my walls to accommodate his meaty girth. My head was soon lifted and held in place as Jey fixed my vision to him and him only in the mirror.

“I know how much you like to look in the mirror, Imma really give you something to look at.”

Jey’s foot was placed on the counter right beside me and my head nearly fell, but he was quick to catch it. My toes curled and my brows furrowed. “Daddy, you’re so deep.”

“I know baby.”

He plunged into my cunt so devilishly, “It feels like you’re in my stomach.”

Jey plunged forward so his stomach was placed against my back. He cupped my cheeks, “I know, cause I am in your guts.”

His strokes just absolutely brutal, grabbing my hair, and smacking my ass digging off in my pussy. Balls sticking and slapping against my clit, providing an entire new sensation.

Pounding my g-spot like there was no tomorrow. Both of us moaning and watching one another reflections in the mirror. I watched Jey’s stomach tensed admiring my thickness spreading me all the way out, my cunt tightening as he slid in and out of me with ease.

“That pussy so wet baby, that shit talking to me huh?!”

“Yes daddy all for you.”

“I know that’s right.”

My body went limp and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. My knees threaten to give out, but Jey’s vice like grip on my hips lead me to continue to stand upright. “I’m cumming so hard daddy, you’re fucking the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, let the neighbors know my name mama. Scream for me.”

With a loud cry, I squirted all over his length, nearly pushing it out. Jey began to chuckle as he sped up his pace, clutching my ass cheeks for dear life. Moaning sweetly as he released heavy spurt after heavy spurt into the warmth of my sweet little pussy. Pulling out with one final smack to my ass, his cum dribbled out of my hole onto my clit.

Grabbing my cheeks harshly, he kissed me sloppily. Spit all over my lips and around my mouth. “I love you baby.”

“I love you too boy.”

As we looked into each others eyes, we could hear the loud banging of the front door.

“Y/N!! GET YO ASS DOWN HERE!! Are you coming or not?!”

“Tell Trin you already did.”

Rolling my eyes once more at my husband, but his big smile got me every time.

——————————————————————————

THE END.

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harmshake @harlem11680 @seeingstarks @thewarlordsworld @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @christinabae @pitlissa22 @thealliasylum @fame-ass-ers @iluvthebloodline @jeyusos-girl @ah-fin3sse @solosikoasgf @msbigredmachine @rollinsland @angelicflower2020

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso fanfic #jey uso smut #jey uso imagines

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amhrosina · 1 year

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The Artist and the Sea (Namor x f!Reader)

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Requests are open - slowing working my way through them!

Part 2

A/N: Hello Nonnie! Thank you for requesting! It inspired me, and I couldn’t not write it as soon as I saw it. Also, let's pretend we can't see the spears being pointed at Namor in this gif lol. (Again, if any of the Yucatec Maya to English translations are off, please let me know!)

Request: tbh it's my first time requesting something regarding the marvel fandom but can i request a namor x fem reader where they meet at the beach when the reader is painting the landscape of the ocean? if you don't understand or don't want to write this, it's okay <333

Summary: You meet a stranger on the beach who takes an interest in your paintings, which somehow puts you in the position of painting the King of Talokan’s portrait.

(Warnings: not a lot?, the kisses gets a little steamy, Namor is a little touch starved, WING TOUCHING!!!!!, no smut (nonnie didn’t specify and I didn’t want to deliver hardcore smut to someone who didn’t want it lol), reader doesn’t speak Namor’s language but loves the nicknames anyways, I think that’s it???)

Translations:

ki'ichpam artista – beautiful artist

pétalo – petal

ch'ujuk ch'úupalo' – sweet girl

princesa – princess

The light reflecting off the ocean was a blinding blue, and you had been trying to blend your paint together to mimic the color for 15 minutes already. You grunted with displeasure as your paintbrush stained three shades too dark. Today was a day for painting. The wind wasn’t blowing too hard, the weather was the perfect mix of cool, but not too cold, and the tides were relatively consistent. When you’d walked out onto your back porch earlier this morning and laid your eyes on the little slice of the beach you owned, it almost felt like an invitation.

Now, you were regretting your decision to lug all of your paint supplies out of your tiny studio and down the beach. You rolled your eyes, tossing the palette down onto the old blanket you used to keep any stray paint from spilling onto the beach. You dipped a clean brush into the tan color you had mixed earlier and began working on creating the right texture for the sand.

The beach was mostly empty today, but even during tourist season, there wasn’t much foot traffic this far down the beach. Your grandmother’s house was a small, but cozy cabin-like home, nestled in a small cove that only locals knew about. You had spent many summers here, tucked away in your little slice of heaven, painting anything and everything you saw. When your grandmother had passed away, the deed of the house was transferred to you, and suddenly you were a homeowner.

You had transformed the inside after moving in, turning the office into an art studio, and transforming the bedroom into a library. Your bedroom, if you could call it that, was actually the living room with tapestries hung up as makeshift walls. You didn’t mind, and neither did anyone else. Or they wouldn’t, you thought, if anyone happened to come by.

You sat back on your stool, looking between the sand around you and your canvas. The texture was coming along nicely, and you grinned at your work. Landscapes had never been your forte – most of your commissions were oil portraits – but you had been working on expanding your skills over the last few months.

“You are an artist?”

An unfamiliar voice startled you from your concentration, and you furrowed your brow at the intrusion. You weren’t one to hog the beach, but you’re clearly a busy woman that didn’t want to be bothered. You leaned around the canvas, intent on staying silent and ignoring the man, but did a double take when you made eye contact with the man.

He was undoubtably beautiful, and definitely not a local. His body was adorned with beautifully carved artifacts draping across his chest and shoulders, and the only actual article of clothing he wore was a pair of green shorts. You glanced down at the light flutter at his ankles, which had small wings sprouting from the sides of them. You brought your eyes back up, not wanting him to catch you staring, but the stranger hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you’d acknowledged him.

“I’m a...what?” You asked, blinking. You’d been so distracted by his sudden appearance that you’d forgotten the question he’d asked.

“You are an,” he nodded to the canvas in front of you, “artist. Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded, standing from your stool. “But I am not very good at landscapes.”

He walked around you, facing the canvas and looking over it with a prompt shake of his head.

“This is beautiful. You are very good.”

“Oh.” You mumbled, ringing your hands together. “Thanks.”

You could feel your cheeks heating at his compliment, and you didn’t want to know why his compliments were getting such a rise out of you. This man was a complete stranger, and his opinions on your art should not have gotten that reaction out of you.

“You are not reacting to me the way I thought you would.”

You stared at your half-finished canvas harder, refusing to look in his eyes again, as you mulled over his statement. Yes, this was definitely the strangest encounter you’d ever experienced, but you lived in a universe where Avengers seemed to be popping up in every city, so the idea of a man from the sea appearing on your beach wasn’t as farfetched as it sounded. He was clearly a powerful being, but you weren’t afraid of him, or his power for that matter.

“How did you think I would react?” You finally asked, peeking at him in your peripheral.

“I am not sure. This is my first time approaching a surface dweller like this.”

“Surface dweller?” You scoffed, finally meeting his gaze.

He had a small smile on his face. “You dwell...amongst the surface. Do you not?”

“I’m assuming you dwell amongst something else?” Your eyes flicked towards the sea and then back at him.

“You assume correctly.” He dipped his head in a nod, adjusting his stance to face you. “I am Namor.”

You tested the name on your tongue, repeating it under your breath. Your gaze ran across his broad chest, trying to gauge the colors of paint you would mix to paint the golden-brown hues of his skin.

“Can I paint you, Namor?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. He was just so pretty, and the artist in you couldn’t deny how beautiful the painting would turn out.

“You want to paint me?” He furrowed his brows, but the grin on his face grew slightly.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, nodding your head with vigor, “I would like to paint you.”

He was silent for a few moments, before shrugging his shoulders in a very human motion. “Okay, ki'ichpam artista. You may paint me.”

Your portrait of Namor would take you a few weeks, maybe even a month to complete. You wanted to highlight his strength and the unbridled power he possessed, but you also wanted to emphasize his beauty. Namor would have to visit you many times for you to get every detail just right, and the thought of that sent an excited flurry of butterflies through your stomach. You thought about taking a photo of him, to speed the process along, but quickly decided against it. It’s not every day that a girl gets to sit with a God, let alone paint one.

The first visit was mostly a sketch session, and you spent the vast majority of the time studying Namor’s features, sketching a few lines, and then erratically erasing different areas of the canvas. Namor sat patiently, watching you mumble under your breath as you captured the angles of his face. He wasn’t used to being studied so closely but being under your careful eye didn’t make him uncomfortable.

“Why did you become an artist?” Namor asked as you looked between your canvas and his face.

“Because I love art.” You murmured, squinting at the line you’d just drawn.

Namor smiled, and you ignored the fluttery feeling in your chest.

“I know that pétalo. I meant, why do you love art?”

You glanced up at him, studying the way his lips curled when he smiled. You began sketching again before you answered him.

“Art brings people together, you know? That’s super cliché, but I guess it’s true.” You shrugged. “Languages are complex. They cause confusion and barrier us from other cultures. But art is a form of communication that doesn’t have those boundaries. Everyone can look at a painting and understand it at its very core, even if they interpret it differently.”

Namor nodded, leaning back on his hands in the sand. You had a sneaky feeling that not many people got to see Namor in this relaxed state and took a mental picture of it so you could sketch it later.

“You have a very pretty way of saying things pétalo.”

You blushed, focusing on the angle of his pointed ears on your canvas.

It wasn’t until your third session with Namor that he began opening up about his home in Talokan. He told you about his people, and how most of the world didn’t know of their existence due to his vigorous efforts to protect them. You had an overwhelming sense that Namor’s pride lay in the ruling of his people, and that he would do anything to protect them.

While he described his homelands to you, you snuck another peek at his ankles. You’d have to ask him for a closer look eventually. The only way you could do them justice in your painting was by touching them, but you didn’t know how to ask.

“You can...touch them, if you need to, pétalo.”

You looked up, stiffening with guilt. You didn’t know what to say to that.

“You cannot hurt me. I promise.” He nudged his foot out, urging you to touch them.

You nodded slowly, softly setting your paintbrush down and standing from your seat. You kneeled down beside him, leaving a trail of featherlight touches along the inside of one of the wings. The texture was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you couldn’t help the second stroke you left across the back of the wing.

Namor inhaled sharply and you pulled your hand away, looking up at him with concern.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, squeezing your hands together.

“No, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. They are very...sensitive.”

“Oh. Oh.” You stood up, swiftly turning to walk back towards your canvas, when his hand lightly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“It’s okay, pétalo. No one has touched them in many years. It was a feeling I had forgotten, that’s all.” His eyes shone bright with ease, and the soft smile on his lips was comforting.

You nodded, returning his smile. You noticed that he hadn’t let go of your wrist, even though it was clear you weren’t moving away from him anytime soon.

“Were you born with them?” You asked, looking up at his tall frame.

“Yes. And these, too.” He pointed at his ears, and you couldn’t help it when you reached forward, running a fingertip along their edge.

“Beautiful.” You murmured under your breath, leaning in to get a closer look. Everything about him was beautiful, and you were finding it harder and harder to breathe when you were this close to him.

Namor stumbled back, facing the ocean with such speed that you stumbled forward in his absence.

“I must go. Something is not right at home. I am sorry to leave so quickly. It was just getting good. I will see you again, next week, pétalo.”

You watched him walk back into the water, washing away with the tide, and just like that, he was gone.

The fourth session you were supposed to have with Namor was nearly ruined by a terrible storm brewing on the coast. You’d startled awake to the loud clap of thunder and watched through your window as the ocean violently responded. The rain came soon after, and just as you convinced yourself you wouldn’t be seeing Namor today, his powerful body trudged out of the water and onto the beach.

You met him at your front door, ushering him inside as the storm raged above his head. He stood in your foyer/living room/bedroom and looked around. You froze with the realization that this was the first time he had entered your house. It was strange, you thought, seeing someone so ethereal surrounded by the familiar, but common, walls of your home. You hadn’t done the dishes the night before, and your bed was unmade, but his attention had been snagged by the light coming from your makeshift studio.

“In here, then?” He pointed, gaze returning to you.

“Yeah. I’ll be in there in a minute. I just have to get my sketches.”

As soon as he rounded the corner, you bolted forward, straightening the covers on your messy bed and throwing dirty laundry into a pile in the corner. You ran your fingers through your hair, and finally joined him in the room a few moments later.

He was hunched over, looking at the dozens of sketches you’d drawn of him. You face palmed and internally groaned as you realized that you hadn’t put them away before inviting him inside. This was an embarrassing secret, to say the least, but you couldn’t stop drawing him. Every time he sent you a new look or moved his body in a way that captured your attention, the urge to draw it in your sketchbook wouldn’t leave your mind until you finally gave in and sketched it out.

“You are very talented, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'.” he said, standing to his full height.

“Thanks.” You mumbled through your hands, trying to hide the fact that you were blushing, again. You shifted your focus to the painting, which was nearing its completion. “I’m almost done with the painting. I think after today I’ll just have to do minor touchups.”

“That is...wonderful, pétalo.” He plopped into one of the chairs you had set up around the room. You moved toward him and reached your hands out, intending to turn his head the way you needed it to finish the painting, but you hesitated. Your arms were frozen, stretched out in front of you as you met his heated gaze.

He shifted forward, keeping his gaze on you as he slowly leaned into your outstretched palms. Your hands curled into hair, and he shuttered, eyes closing as he forcefully pushed his head further into your hold. You tried to ignore the butterflies his slight movement had spurred in your stomach, but the soft groan he let out as you ran your fingers through his hair ruined any chance you had of controlling your blood pressure.

“It has been...a very long time since I’ve been touched so gently, princesa.”

You swallowed, unsure what to do next, but he was quick to hoist you into his lap. You traced his jaw and couldn’t help but glance at his lips as you met his gaze. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you closer to his body.

“I did not mean to fall for you so entirely, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', but you have not left my mind since I saw you painting on the beach.”

His voice was soft, but his hands tightened around your waist as he spoke. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling your lips down to meet his. But he would wait, a lifetime if he had to, for a sign of consent from you before crushing his lips against yours.

“I finished the painting last night.” You revealed, choking out a laugh. “I just wanted one more day with you before you left.”

Namor let out a deep laugh, throwing his head back against the back of his chair. “What were you planning on doing all day, princesa?”

You groaned, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “I was going to pretend to paint for a few hours before showing it to you.”

“If you wanted to spend more time with me, princesa, you only had to ask.” Namor was grinning wide, running his fingers along the curve of your waist.

“Don’t you have important kingly things to attend to?”

“Yes, but nothing that can’t be rearranged, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. You are also important to me.”

You smiled, cradling his face between your hands. His expression turned molten as you leaned into him, parting your lips in anticipation. He cupped the back of your head, pulling you the rest of the way down to meet his lips. The kiss was both sweet and lustful. His tongue dominated yours, begging for more as he ran his hands over your waist.

He pulled away from you abruptly, squeezing your waist. You were about to crawl off of his lap and begin profusely apologizing to him, but his words stopped you.

“You said you finished the painting. Can I see it?”

“Of course.” You jumped off of his lap and ran to the closet you’d hidden it in, suddenly excited to reveal it to him. You’d been keeping it a secret until it was finished, and to say you were eager to hear his thoughts on it was an understatement.

You set it on your canvas stand and stepped back, allowing him to fully see the painting. It had come out better than you’d hoped, and you’d known by the time you were halfway finished that it would be your best portrait yet.

He leaned in, marking the tiny details you’d spent hours polishing, and smiled.

“Ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', I have seen many paintings of me over the years, but none come close to this. You are so talented, princesa.”

“Do you really like it?” You asked, clutching your hands into your chest.

“I love it, my ki'ichpam artista. If I could take it with me and hang it for all my people to see, I would.”

“Really?” You squeaked, trying not to tear up at his declaration.

“Do you like it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I think it’s my favorite painting I’ve ever done.” You breathed, glancing at it.

“You should keep it, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. Hang it in your home as a reminder of me, for when I have to attend to those kingly duties.”

You thought it over for a moment, and then smiled. “Okay.”

Parting with that painting was something you’d been dreading since you’d started it, along with the idea of not seeing Namor on a regular basis, but he’d just relieved your doubts in one sentence. You got to keep the painting and you’d be seeing him again.

“Okay.” He repeated, pulling at your waist until you were situated in front of him. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, and you finally gave into those damned butterflies, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

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