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nanamikentoseyebags · 11 months

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I know i'm home

for everyone the scars on his body showed that for all his immense power, he was still human. for him they were an agonizing reminder that he would never let it happen again.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: just his little inner satoru finally finds peace, warmth and home, hurt/comfort, fluff

a/n: i've been thinking a whole lot about little satoru lately, here's the result of my reflections lol, hope you enjoy <3

The quiet, velvety night slowly descended to the earth, spreading out an endless blanket of dark sky, sprinkled with a myriad of shimmering stars, inviting the full pale moon to slumber upon it until daybreak. A light summer breeze penetrated into your shared bedroom through the slightly open window, filling every corner of it with a pleasant freshness while gently, as if by the hand of a lover, brushing the loose strands away from your face. The barely audible murmur of the leaves, intertwined with the lulling buzzing of night insects and the occasional trill of birds, produced melodies that any composer would have envied. You stood there barefoot, in his oversized T-shirt that reached your knees, leaning your arms on the windowsill and curiously observing the nature, engulfed in a captivity of a tranquil slumber. It was miraculous how, in this hectic and violent world, there were still such peaceful nights, reserved for the two of you.

You pulled away from the window, gently adjusting the thin floral curtain he'd hung so eagerly, almost on the verge of falling, a few days ago. Listening to the tinkling sound of running water, you tiptoed toward the bathroom, the door of which was slightly ajar. The moments of simple domestic intimacy were so rare yet so precious that his five-minute absence felt like hours of unbearable torture, while the desire to peek through that little gap and catch a glimpse of the dearest silhouette grew with each passing second. You reached the door gingerly, and, squinting slightly in hopes that you wouldn't make a loud noise, you pulled it toward you, widening the viewing angle and quietly peeking in.

Your face met the pleasant warm humidity. The lamps glimmered brightly, illuminating the white tiled walls, little pearl-like droplets still dripping down as if chasing one another in an unspoken game. Satoru was standing with his back turned to you, exposing his broad shoulders and strong back with his birthmarks scattered all across it as if he was a canvas and they were the drops of paint, placed there by the hand of a great master. His snow-white hair, sparkling in the light, shimmered in an array of colors, creating a subtle glow all around him. The misted surface of the mirror revealed the imprints of his large palm, which had rid of the unwanted shroud a few minutes ago, giving him a glimpse of his reflection. His left hand rested on the edge of the basin while the other firmly gripped the razor, moving expertly across his porcelain, now covered in a layer of shaving foam, skin.

Satoru remained concentrated, turning his head deftly and delicately wielding his razor blade. His celestial blue eyes were fixed on his own reflection, while his thoughts were elsewhere. Surrounded by an unusual silence, punctuated only by the gentle whisper of flowing water, he still heard far more than any human ear could. For Satoru, the quietest night, so silent and soundless to everyone, turned into a cacophony of noisy daytime sounds.

He diligently tried to keep the annoying thoughts and noises away from him, striving to mentally return to the pleasant moments of complete tranquility with you. He put all the unnecessary shaving items into the cabinet and bent down, rinsing off the rest of the foam and sending it down the drain along with his dark thoughts. Then he straightened, taking a quick glance at his face reflected in the smooth surface of the mirror and reached for the towel, as his gaze, surprisingly even for him, lingered a little longer on the scar, hidden behind the damp snowy strands that fell on his forehead, and then slowly moved to his neck, eyes flickering worryingly under the blinding light of the bright lamps. He cautiously, as if he were afraid of himself, brought his hand to his neck, tracing the damaged skin with his fingertips and swallowing heavily. He reluctantly lowered his gaze to his chest, staring with revulsion at the vertical scar that so distinctly marked his pale skin.

He shook his head a few times, as if driving away the ghosts of his past, and nestled his head into the soft cloth of the terry towel, gently removing the residue of water from his face. Finally, he lifted his head and flinched slightly, meeting your gaze in the reflection.

"Spying on me?" he immediately turned around, in a moment replacing his startled grimace with his usual wide grin.

"Me? Never," you smiled sheepishly, not expecting to be caught red-handed, and opened the door wider, taking a couple of timid steps in his direction.

"I thought you were already in bed, you little liar," Satoru smirked boyishly, holding out his arms and inviting you into his warm embrace.

"I couldn't sleep without you, so I thought I'd see what you were doing here without me," you teased, wrapping your arms around his strong body and gently stroking his back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, nothing to make you feel neglected," he joked, sounding as confident as possible, but his eyes brimmed with all the colors of unrestrained sadness.

You slapped his back playfully, bursting into hearty laughter and burying your nose into his naked chest. His strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips left a light kiss on your head. Your palm slowly caressed his silky skin, tracing intricate patterns with your fingertips, feeling the hundreds of goosebumps running all over his body. You smiled, your index finger now drawing a small heart just where his heart was beating beneath it. Satoru shook his head, laughing softly and rolling his eyes, "You're so cheesy," but you could still feel his slender, long fingers leaving little hearts on every millimeter of your skin for several minutes now. You smiled blissfully, allowing yourself to melt into his tender embrace, forgetting time and plans, feeling only the comfort of his warmth enveloping you from head to toe and his heart beating right under your cheek.

You gently touched his deep scar, like a scorched mark resting on his flawless, soft-white skin. Satoru's breath hitched as he shuddered at the sudden sensation.

"Does it hurt?" a soft whisper, coming from your lips and fanning his chest with your hot breath, reached his ears.

"Of course not, silly, it has long since healed," he looked at you perplexedly, his eyebrows drawn into a thin line.

"No, does it hurt?" you stressed the last word, lifting your head and gazing into his wide-open hypnotic orbits, hoping that he would understand what you implied in that question.

His lips quivered, and his eyes flickered frantically over your face, trying to figure out if he should voice what had been languishing inside for so long. Small but obvious wrinkles appeared on his forehead, giving his face an even more baffled expression.

"Yeah...' he forcefully uttered the answer that was stuck in his throat, 'sometimes I feel his knife going through me all over again…,' his hand slowly covered yours, stroking your knuckles.

"Right...," you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing his hand lightly, in hopes of showing that you could understand him.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid again and I relive all this stuff over and over again, isn't that silly?" he chuckled sadly, hiding his eyes, in which you could notice snippets of the suffering he had seen throughout his life. It seemed as if, as he uttered these words, he indeed turned into a little boy, only the mischievous smile that everyone around him was so used to seeing had now faded, and his eyes no longer burned with such a vibrant light.

"It's not stupid at all," you lovingly brushed his hair away from his forehead, gently stroking his cheekbone, "I wish I was there to protect you from everything," you admitted sincerely.

"You know I would have done anything to prevent that," Satoru gently took your hand, leaving an appreciative kiss on your palm.

You nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him, just hugged him a little tighter, while gently caressing his tense back muscles. You knew how hard he was trying not to reveal his true emotions to you, to keep cool, but it was his hands that were nervously rubbing the fabric of yours, or rather his T-shirt, and the ragged breathing that caused his chest heave so anxiously that made it all abundantly clear.

"I often wonder what that little boy I once used to be would have said to me after knowing how much pain and death those eyes had seen, what he would have thought when he saw that with every step I took there were bloody footprints on the ground, stretching endlessly behind me, how he would have felt when he noticed those scars, evidence that I had let it happen to him" he continued after a pause, burying his nose in your hair.

"He would have been proud of you," you uttered quietly, "after finding out what you had learned and what else those magic eyes could do, he would have admired seeing what your body, now adorned with a pair of battle marks, was capable of, he would have thanked you when he realized how many people you had saved. And he thanks you now for the way you protect him, because he still lives in you."

Satoru fell silent, holding his breath, heeding every single word that he felt was healing his wounds, kissing all the pain away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes, and exhaled softly.

You caressed his side reassuringly, leaving a kiss on his shoulder, "I just know little Satoru feels safe now."

"Yeah, with you, little Satoru feels at home.”

***

The silent, dark night was replaced by a bright morning, filled with the peals of the birds, causing the sleeping moon to give way to the brilliant sun, illuminating the soft features of Satoru, who had fell asleep on your chest, with its gentle golden rays. The warm blanket he had so carefully wrapped you in before you went to sleep almost slid to the floor, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist while your legs were entwined, preventing you from moving. You smiled earnestly, fingertips stroking his soft skin and once again covering his body with little hearts, while your lips were leaving little kisses here and there. Your heart was full, realizing with its every beat that your whole world was encased in this one person. You lay there quietly, staring at his slightly fluttering white lashes and hoping that in one of the parallel universes you had somehow met sooner, and both little Satoru and little you knew no worries, faithfully carrying your love through life, holding tightly to each other with your intertwined pinkies.

thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! <3

art and dividers are not mine <3

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @afortoru @keiskyutie @vagabond-umlaut @4sat0ruu @softsatoru @mitsuyeaah @playgrl0 @moonsinfonia @a-nuisance-called-sam @gojoshooter

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojou #jjk satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x yn #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru fluff #satoru angst #i needed this after the mess gege caused today #so this is extremely self-indulgent

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Ring Toss - A Frankie Morales One Shot 🍩

Summary: Frankie comes home with a box of treats, just for you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶 "It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Oral, M receiving/mild dirty talk. Delicious food porn with Frankie. What else is there to say?

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Frankie and donuts... 🤤 Dedicated to lovely @secretelephanttattoo 🍩😘

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The box of sweet, sticky treats is calling your name.

You can’t resist them. Nu-uh, no way. Your one weakness and he knows it.

You pout up at him, trying to be riled, but the smirk on his tan face blooms across those luscious pink lips of his, and despite you wanting to slap it off of his chops at his gall of tempting you - you know you can't resist his sweet face either under that patchy scruff.

“I’m on a diet.” You scowl at him, trying not to smirk back.

“Screw the diet, hermosa. You can have one, right?” Frankie shrugs, looming in front of you.

“Noooo. It’ll undo all the hard work I did at the gym today.” You whine. The ache in your calves reminds you to hold strong. And maybe not go so hard on the cross trainer next time...

Frankie scoffs, holding the box out to you and you continue to refuse the sugary, deep-fried treats that are inside ganging up on and leering at you.

You can smell them. Oh God. It's like he's opened up Pandora’s Box and colourful sprinkles and sticky, creamy glazes are calling out to you; luring you in like a Siren song only you can hear.

Hijo de puta!

“I got 'em fresh. I got the custard ones, I know they’re your favourite.” Frankie insists with a tempting pink purse of his lips.

“You did?” You ask leaning forward to peer into the box.

Yep, there they were; oozing and sticky with that thick gloop leaking out of one of them like it had been shot and was bleeding out its vanillary insides.

No, stop it!

“Yeah.” He nods, smiling pleasantly down at you from under that well worn in cap; his messy curls rioting behind his ears. Deep brown eyes penetrate you with a beguiling simmer laced around them.

It was really sweet of him, touching. He knows what you like and how to make you happy. It's the little things Frankie does that give you the constant heart eyes for him.

The way he holds open the passenger side door for you on his beat up Pickup, and always takes your hand as you step out like you're his queen.

The way he always greets you when you come home from work with a swamping, lingering kiss, pushing you up agaisnt the back of the door, readily equipped with his large hands squeezing and groping at your body affectionately, before you've even said hello to one another.

The way he stops off on the way home from his group therapy sessions on a Thursday, to grab a box of fresh donuts from Dough Boyz, and ensures your favourites are plentiful.

Frankie smiles with tempting, molten eyes. Big browns out on full display. That same puppy-dog look he gives you which renders you absolute mush at his feet, usually.

“I hate you.” You shake your head. The pout is back and it's staying put. Much like your stony resistance.

“You hate me, huh?” Frankie baulks with a tinkling chuckle as he scratches at his scruff under his chin.

You fold your arms, sinking back into the couch and refusing him, trying to watch the TV - anything to distract you away from that heady, saccharine scent that wafts from the forbidden box of calorific delights.

“Suit yourself, muñeca. More for me.” Frankie says casually, tossing the box on the coffee table.

“I hope you get fat!” You call to him playfully as he saunters off towards the kitchen, his laugh echoing around you.

"You want a coffee?" He calls back.

"No, thanks," you humpf in response.

He leaves it there, lid open whilst he goes into the kitchen. You glance at it; your eyes darting back and forth at the temptation of sticking your fingers in and selecting the one that oozes with that yellowy-golden custard you long to taste cloying around your gums.

It's a test. You know it. Leave it open to tempt and twist you into finally submitting, and then Frankie would walk in to catch you red-handed and to see half of them snarffed up; crumbs mottled down your top and smeared sugar constellations across your cheeks.

Oh, he is such an asshole!

Frankie pads back into the lounge after a few minutes with his coffee and sits on the sofa adjacent to you, putting his long legs up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles. He reaches forward for a donut.

You watch as his dexterous, thick fingers pry a glazed ring out of the box, and he sits back into the cushions getting comfortable, bringing it up to his mouth.

Oh, it's like watching a filthy, X-rated porno.

How those plush, pink lips would part and he’d bite into the dough, licking his lips free of the sticky glaze. Shrapnels of glaze getting stuck in the fuzz of his moustache.

He watches the TV absentmindedly whilst he feasts quietly, unaware you want to launch the box of sugary treats at his head for bringing them here, the shithead.

But you want one, you soooo want one.

No! I worked hard this week. No treats!

But one won’t hurt.

You can’t just have one though, can you?!

But he brought you custard donuts, he loves you.

Fuck!

His dark eyes flick towards yours and you look away as he brings his coffee back up to his lips and smirks.

You try to invest yourself into whatever the heck it is rolling across the TV screen, but the overwhelming scent of sugar, and the sound of him smacking his lips together, soon draws your attention away again.

Frankie sucks his fingers slowly; the squeaking wet sounds of them popping out of his lewd mouth, before he runs his tongue around his teeth, sounds like it's gunfire inside your ears, thundering.

Loud enough for you to know the bastardo is doing it on purpose. Louder than the steam coming out of your ears.

Fuck that fucking fucker!

Your willpower is waning as you stare at the box of donuts on the coffee table taunting and seducing you.

No, I'm not going to give in. He wants me to and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. Nope!

You glance at Frankie and he's watching you again with those dark chocolate eyes. “Just have one, you know you want to.” He tempts you.

Yeah, all he needs is a horned tail and a pitchfork, right?

“That’s not the point, I can’t have one. You know I can’t.” You sulk, shaking your head.

“Why? Because you went to the gym? One donut isn’t going to fucking hurt, hermosa.” He scoffs, chuckling.

You turn away again. “You don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m all for keeping fit, but a treat now and again in moderation is good, baby.” He smiles. "You've earned it."

You shake your head trying to ignore him.

“You’re really gonna resist?” Frankie questions.

You nod. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Well alright.” He sighs, admitting defeat.

You watch the TV again, smouldering away. You then see him reach forward and put his coffee cup down on the table in your peripherals.

He reaches into the box, with those wandering fingers once more. The one he pulls out is a plain one; the sister of the previous he'd just devoured.

He eyes it and then puts it back and reaches for another that takes his fancy instead; this time choosing one with sprinkles scattered across the pink, shiny glaze.

He sits back into the cushions again and looks darkly at you.

“You really won’t eat this?” Frankie questions.

“No.” You shake your head again feeling your brain rattle inside your skull.

“But what if I really want you to eat it, to enjoy it? I mean, I brought these as a reward for how well you’ve been doing lately at the gym… what a waste.” He sighs, shaking his head. He pouts at you too, those thick lips pursed out.

“Are you trying to guilt trip me, Morales? It’s not working.” You confirm, frowning.

"Ya lo veremos..." Frankie sighs with a slick smile.

"Stop it," you warn.

You watch him put the donut between his lips and then let go; it balances precariously between those plumpy, pink smackers and his fuzzy moustache.

With his hands, he simply reaches down, undoes the buckle on his belt, the button on his jeans, and then unzips his fly.

You watch, with widening eyes, as he pulls out his cock and pumps it a few times in his fist.

You can hear him groan around the donut hanging out of his mouth; eyes rolling back as he acqaints himself with his thick, swelling dick.

Oh shit...

He jerks on his cock; little wheezed breaths pelting out of his chest, until he's fully hard and rigid in his hand.

He looks at you the whole time he's doing it too.

“What... are you doing?” You baulk at him, feeling hot prickles dance on the back of your neck. The heat flares all over your body and you clench your fist around the throw over the couch you're sitting on.

He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively with a small shrug of his shoulders, unable to speak with the donut hanging out of his mouth; his saliva starting to melt the glaze that he can feel pooling in the corners.

Frankie then takes the donut from his mouth, licking crudely at his lips, and simply places it over his stiff cock. Sliding his thick member through the hole tightly in the centre, and pushes it down as far as it will go without breaking.

The donut rubber-rings itself around him and he lets go. His cock stands up right, fully hard and bobbing two and fro a little with the weight of the donut around it.

You swallow hard as he sits there waiting for you expectantly. He rests his arms over the top of his head; eyes peering darkly at you from under the rim of his cap. He juts his hips forward, challenging you brazenly.

Frankie's smirk is widening, and your cheeks are turning more red as the seconds wear on. Red with fury, red with abject need...

Oh, you son of a b-

“Frankie-”

“Eat it,” he encourages with an ever-widening grin and beckons you over with two fingers. "Come here."

You sigh, and then giggle in unison with him as he chuckles.

"You're such an ass."

“Come on,” he rouses, wiggling his hips from side to side and his cock rocks, life buoyed inside the donut and bites his lip suggestively.

You stand up, completely caving; a sound escaping you similar to a bear disturbed from their hibernation, and make your way towards him, utterly burning up now.

Yeah, he’s totally done a number on you alright.

“You’re gonna make a mess all over your jeans.” You roll your eyes.

He shakes his head. “You’d better eat it quickly then before it sticks.” Frankie teases as you approach him.

He runs his pointer finger around the orbit of the donut, in the pink glaze, and sucks it into his mouth.

"Mmm," he quips and klaxons sound in your ears.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you remark to him, trying to resist his allure.

He pulls you forward by your wrists and your face meets his. “It’s why you love me.” He purrs before he kisses you.

"I do, damnit." You sigh.

His lips are sweetly tasting and you suck on his bottom lip, sampling the crusted glaze and groan in delight at the sugar rush of it.

You reach down to feel his swollen head poking out the top of the donut oozing. You suck your fingers and they are sweetly swirled with the donut glaze and that salty glaze all of his own that beads from the slit.

“You taste really good.” You murmur to him.

“Oh, I know,” Frankie smirks. “You should have more of me, hermosa.” He incites.

You kneel down between his legs and crane forward. Looking up at him, you take a gentle bite from the donut, and he bites his lip again watching you.

Oh, it tastes fucking better than you could have imagined.

Your fingers are scratching inside the soft, downy hairs of his thighs into his groin as he thrusts his hips out a little more towards you.

The donut tastes fantastic, and you make sure to allow your lips to brush over him now and again, making him gasp and shudder.

Yeah, now it's your turn to tease the fuck out of him.

The gummy taste of the glaze coates him and sticks to his skin; you eat more of the donut from around his cock, savouring it. It's a sticky sweet mess that makes you whine. Makes you sweat. Makes your head swim and your sex pulse in desire and need.

"That's it, baby. Eat it all up..." Frankie encourages.

You scoff the donut around him, slowly revealing more of his impressive and hard cock that you long to devour.

Thick, veiny and so fucking hard. A beautifully flushed head that drips and throbs as you run your tongue over it, tasting every morsel of that sticky syrup.

Your body clenches and drools in response.

"Mmm," he croons, smiling.

Frankie runs his hands through your hair as you finish it; crumbs from the dough dotted around his length and dappled in the fuzzy short hairs at the base of him as you swallow your last mouthful of the wondrous treat.

His eyes burn into yours as he watches you lick up the side of his shaft where the glaze is stuck in wet globules, and you feel his cock pulse in response.

“Yeah…” He whispers, keenly and nodding at what's to come. "Suck it."

You open your mouth as you get to the top, placing him inside and you swallow him down.

“Fuck!” Frankie whines out; his head thrown back against the couch cushions as you give him that sweet, succulent head that he craves.

Your fingers claw into his thighs as you bob up and down, head stuffed inside his lap, sucking him clean. You lick and kiss the whole length of him. Tonguing around the head like a popiscle, licking up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, and slurping him down deeper into the trenches of your throat.

You feel him put a gentle pressure on the back of your head; he wants you to deep throat him, to take him in all the way. To choke and gag on him as that frothy spittle hangs from your lips.

He grunts out as you do it; swallowing his thick, tasty cock deep inside your throat and pressing your nose against the skin above his groin.

You inhale him in, sighing in satisfaction as you do. You love the taste of him, the fullness of him. The way he packs you out around your cheeks.

He feels you heave around him and hisses out as the back of your throat squeezes around him.

"Eso se siente tan jodidamente bien, no pares..." he groans with a silky hiss.

Frankie pulls out and you gasp for air; crystal saliva strings dangling from his swollen head to your mouth.

He pulls you up and kisses you; tasting the donut, tasting himself and smirking at you.

Sucking on your tongue, Frankie whines and your body is burning up. You're craving more. The sugar rush floods through your veins making your fingers shake.

"More, baby." Frankie encourages. "You're so fucking good at that."

He lets go of you and you go back to sucking him off. Holding the base of him steady, and he throws his hands up again behind his capped head, shuffling down the couch a little; enjoying the show of you taking him in.

Hungry for it, hungry for him. Basking in that candy coated wonderland of that sweet tasting cock.

You work his shaft, pumping as you go to really get him going; massaging his balls that are aching to release, and give him plenty of eye contact as he watches you mouth on him.

“Fuck, baby I’m gunna come…” Frankie gasps; his thighs twitching and shaking as he releases, filling your mouth with that delicious, thick custard of his own.

He tastes so fucking good.

He watches, enthralled, as you swallow it all down, licking your lips and sucking your fingers afterwards.

“Yum,” you murmur at him with a wink.

Frankie smiles at you through flushed cheeks and blissed out brown eyes like he's high, utterly beside himself in post-coital dumbness for a few beats.

You promptly stand up and turn to the box on the coffee table, plucking out that weeping custard donut, and sit back in your spot on the adjacent couch and bite into it.

Frankie chortles loudly; cock and balls still out as you devour that delicious custard treat without any ounce of guilt.

"Knew you couldn't resist." He chants.

"You play dirty, Morales." You say around a mouthful and it's heavenly.

"Always, hermosa."

Yeah, one or two donuts won’t hurt, right?

I really hope you enjoyed reading this tasty treat with Frankie. If you did, please consider re-blogging this so others can also have their fill. I'd love to know your thoughts too. Thanks so much for reading! 🖤

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie triple frontier #triple frontier frankie #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fluff #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys #gimme that donut

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mrghostrat · 5 months

Note

Okay so the streamer au right. I’ve thunketh a thoughteth.

Neither Beelzebub or Gabriel have come up in this yet. I have ideas.

So in my head Beelzebub is Crowleys adopted sibling and stream mod. But because I saw this in a fanfic once and it works well with their character - sin of gluttony and all - their ‘normal person’ job is as a professional chef. Now, they go by their screen name online, they’re adopted so look nothing like him (and also bc I like the possible sprinkle of angst. Which one was adopted by which’s family? Why?) and no one’s seen them in any of their brothers streams, so when Aziraphale takes on a trickier recipe in a cooking stream and brings in his roomates pro chef sibling as a guest to help him no one connects the dots. They just like the edgy chef friend that keeps yelling off screen at the roommate and then immediately going back to kneading dough like nothing happened. People love them! They dub them ‘Emo Gordon Ramsey’ and make ‘Gordon Ramsey with adults vs kids’ and ‘Beelzebub has a favourite sibling and it’s not even their actual sibling’ jokes when they stop doing the middle finger at their brother to warn aziraphale the sugar is going to burn if he’s not careful. Beelzebub, like Anathema is a little shit that likes to worsen the Crowley-Aziraphale rumours and takes any chance they can get to drop a joke under their breath to which the chat yells ‘BEEZ SHIPS IT TOO’.

Gabriel is Aziraphales hotshot successful businessman brother who lives in America most of the time (maybe their parents split up or something?) and he visits home for Christmas or something. He’s kind of an asshole. (yes I’m imagining a more season 1 Gabriel. More room for character development.). Unfortunately for Aziracrow, Anathema, and their own mental health, ‘Asshole’ is exactly Beelzebubs type. It takes the combined force of the three of them, the chat yelling at them (aziraphale is nothing if not petty. You make jokes about him and his boyfriend? He’s going to put you on blast for your terrible taste. Now I’m saying all this it would make sense for Beez to be the adopted one maybe they had a not-great home lifethat’s why their taste in men is kind of messed up) , and several stories of exactly how asshole-y Gabe is to convince them to not ask Gabriel out. Potential for Gabe to get character development down the line and become an actual viable option for Beez.

thank you for coming to my TED talk *mic drop* *runs away*

*tinkles cat food bell* bureaucracy shippers come get ur man

#you had me at emo goth ramsey fuck #life changing #ineffable streamers #ask a rat

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

Note

400 request! Could you do some thing like enemies to lovers with Cid, maybe an argument that leads to an angry kiss. With some spice at the end?

Thankyou!

Thanks for the 400 request, anon! Sorry it took me an absolute age to get round to it - I'm still working my way through a few. I didn't quite get enemies to lovers but there's some argumentative banter and a tiiiiny bit of spice towards the end - please let me know what you think in an anon ask xxx Sparks Cidolfus Telemon x female reader Fluffy, little sprinkling of spice towards the end

You start to look up at the sound of the bell tinkling over the door, announcing a customer, but the heavy boots on the wooden floorboards tell you all you need to know and you sigh, casting your eyes immediately back down when you see who it is darkening your doorstep.

“No.”

“Love, that’s not a nice greeting. Want to try again?”

“Cidolfus-” “Oh, I am in trouble.” He smirks. “Now, this is a nice one.” You hear him heave a pot up in his hands, “how much?"

You look up then – he’s admiring the ceramic with a fake interest. “Not for sale.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and relieve the tension as he places the pot down. “I have a headache that could down a behemoth and I cannot deal with that and you today.”

“Then,” the approaching footsteps show he has not heeded your plea, “you should let me help you.”

“Help?” You scoff. “You always bring more trouble to my door. If the Imperials or Dragoons get word of you being here…”

“They’ll what – poke and prod me with their little halberds?” He pretends to pout. “I don’t fear them and, if someone would finally accept my very gracious offer, neither would you.”

“Leave.” You seethe. “You’re nothing but a hinderance these days.”

“Surely it’s the thought that counts.” He chuckles, laying both palms down on the desk to show he had no plans to leave. “Besides, if you would concede, Tarja could whip you off something for that headache too, quick as you like.”

“By the Mothers. I swear-“

“This isn’t a very viable way to run a business, love – chasing your customers away at the door.”

“You’re not a real customer.”

He shrugs, before lifting a hand off the counter and grabbing a gil pouch off his belt. He drops it in show, the bag giving a satisfying thunk as it hit the counter to show off its contents.

“I’ll take however much this will get me.”

“You won’t. I hold the right to refuse you service.” You stress, shoving the pouch back across to him.

“You’re such a funny shopkeeper, someone might get ideas you’re up to something else here.”

You sigh, meeting his eyes at last. He’s a handsome man and he knows it – part of what makes him so cocky. “What will it take for you to leave me be?”

He throws his arms wide. “Come join my group of outlaws.”

“I’m doing fine work here.” You grumble. Your paths had crossed a few years back. He’d heard word of someone shipping ailing Bearers out to the Kingdom of Waloed – something he could not stand, given his history. His investigations had led straight to you – ushering them onto a boat in a way that wasn’t befitting on a slave master. After a tense exchange, it had been established that the two of you were of the same opinion – that Bearers didn’t deserve the hand they had been dealt and were trying to help where you can in different ways. You’d buy up Bearers where you could and, under the guise of selling them to Waloed, you’d find them havens throughout Valisthea, allowing them to live their final days in peace, for whatever it was worth.

He was smug, cocky, thought he was the Mother’s gift to all around him, and it drove you up the wall – like he expected you to swoon over him and his swagger, go along with whatever he wanted. But no, you’d stayed firm, held your resolve – Cidolfus Telemon will not get his way with you.

“What if I say I’m worried?”

“About yourself? You should be. I heard a certain rumour about an unwanted visitor to Drake’s Head.”

He quirks an eyebrow, looks surprised for a moment before his face falls back into its self-assured grin. “I just wanted a closer look, love.”

The bell above the door rings again and a real customer walks in – a nobleman, by the looks of it, with real gil to burn.

You look at Cid and nod your head towards the door. Thankfully, he relents, giving you a wink and a wave and finally heads out the door.

Later that evening, you’re about to lock up when a hand squeezes your shoulder. You turn, alarmed, and find yourself facing a trio of Imperial soldiers – all sporting the same haircut under military standards, the same hardened stares.

“I’m awfully sorry, but I’m closed for the day, sirs. Mayhaps you can return in the morning.” You keep your tone light, almost ditsy to try and diffuse what is clearly not a group of soldiers out shopping for pots.

“I’m afraid this matter really cannot wait, my lady.” The soldier reaches past you and opens the door into the shop before pushing you back within. “After you.”

You make it five steps in when you hear a sword being unsheathed and an almighty clatter as it collides with a group of pots on display.

“Oops.” The soldier says, dryly.

“Accidents happen.” This isn’t good – whatever this is.

“They do.” We wouldn’t want any more happening, would we?”

“No, sir.”

“Like, it must have been an accident when Cidolfus Telemon was here this afternoon and you did not bring it to our attention.”

“Who?” You tilt your head, trying to mimic confusion. The soldier, the commander of this merry trio, you reckon, grabs you by your jaw, squeezing your cheeks.

“Don’t play dumb, my lady. You’ll only make this worse for yourself. What business did you conduct with him?”

“None.” He lets go of your jaw and shoves you backwards, sending you crashing into another display of pots. Jagged bits of ceramic poke at your back and thighs, but that pain is nothing to the fear you feel when he draws his sword.

“Ladies should not lie.”

“And that is no way to treat a lady, lads.” Cid’s smooth voice comes from the doorway. The soldiers spin on their heels, holding their swords aloft. He steps in, casually, rolling up his sleeves.

“Surrender, Telemon.”

Sparks of lightning begin to crackle along his arm and into his palm. “Not my style.” And before the soldiers can make another move, he punches his fist into the ground, sending three strikes of lightning in each of their directions, sending the trio flying up for a moment before crashing down into more of your pots - dead.

You stare in disbelief of what’s just occurred, your heart pounding as Cid strides over to you, pulling you up to your feet.

“Are you all right?”

“You.” You growl, grabbing hold of either side of his collar with both hands and yanking him forward. “I told you that you’re nothing but trouble.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Love, I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant to happen-“ You cut him off with a bruising kiss and for a moment he doesn’t reciprocate, stunned, before he drops his hands and slides his tongue in between your lips, fighting for dominance. His hands find your waist and he pulls you closer, one hand dropping down to squeeze your backside. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, but that won’t do. You let go of his collar, trailing your fingers down his chest and then lower, ghosting his crotch, causing him to moan into your mouth…

“We gotta go, Cid – more Imperials heading this way!” A voice comes from the door – one you recognize as another part of his crew.

He pulls away, frowning. “We’ll have to continue this back at my place, love. Come on.” And with no hesitation, his hands are back at your waist and the smug bastard throws you over your shoulder, patting your backside as he adjusts his grip.

“Cidolfus!” --

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #cid telemon x reader #cidolfus telamon #cidolfus telemon x you #ffxvi x reader

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year

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That special something: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x reader (a fluffy, cute Christmas story!)

A/n: wrote this quickly on Xmas morning while everyone else in the house was still asleep! If you want some romantic, cute, Hallmark movie Santi vibes this Xmas, this is my present to you! Just a quick one (and I’ll come back and proof later as I’m sure it will be needed!)! Merry Christmas lovelies, ILYSM! 🧡

Gif: @fernandabarrera

Rating: general audiences (but my blog is 18+ minors DNI)

Warnings: alcohol mentions.

The last minute rush of Christmas Eve panic-buyers has finally died down, the shelves of your cosy little artisan store almost emptied of goods.

After an exhausting day of supporting frazzled shoppers to secure the perfect purchases, you are now mentally slipping into festive mode. You’re polishing off a glass of the mulled wine you’d been handing out to customers, humming along to the lilting Christmas tunes as you finish cashing-up, and you even imagine you’ll be able to close-up on schedule until-

-The bell above the door tinkles once more, indicating a new arrival. You have to suppress an audible groan as you turn towards the noise, but you plaster on your game face. You can do this. Just one more customer.

“Merry Christmas Eve! Let me know if I can help you to find that special something,” you recite, the words spilling out on a weary auto-pilot. Your words, however, falter as you turn towards the man who has just stepped inside.

For a moment, you imagine that you might have finally fallen asleep on your feet, or perhaps slumped over the counter. This patron is handsome enough that you could believe you have slipped into a Hallmark-inspired dream.

Your eyes travel down the length of him, and back up again. Sturdy black, lace-up combat boots adorn his feet, leading up to a pair of fitted blue jeans, denim pulling taut around his ample thighs. He’s bundled up in a grey wool coat and midnight blue scarf, looking deliciously cosy, melting flakes of snow adorning his shoulders. And then, there’s his entire head and face area to enjoy.

Damn.

He’s certainly handsome.

His every feature (lips, nose, eyes, brows, cheekbones) is stand-out, yet somehow still harmonious. His brown skin is decorated with a layer of greying scruff along that mighty Disney-Prince jaw. His head is adorned with silvered curls -as perfectly swirled and placed as the ribbons you’ve been gift-wrapping with today- which have been dusted with a sprinkling of snowflakes.

You smile, and as he returns it and the creases radiate out from around his eyes you wonder if winter has suddenly passed and it is spring already, for a flutter of warmth dances in your belly.

As he turns, clasping the door shut behind him to preserve the heat, you first of all plant your hands firmly on the surface of your counter, squeezing the edge. Second of all, you spot the sizeable backpack he has slung over his shoulders. He’s likely fresh from the airport you reckon, just in time for Christmas. A squashy neck pillow is clipped to his bag, and the size of it is more substantial than a day-pack. You wonder idly who he’s visiting for the season.

As he turns back towards the interior, his dark, chestnut eyes do a sweep of you, and then of the stock. He runs a hand over his scruff before taking a few steps inside, his large pack now looking like a hazard as he meanders through the walkways between the precarious displays.

“Would you like to set that down by the counter?”

He lifts his eyebrows and pops his AirPods from his ears. “Sorry, I…”

You try to repeat the question, but with his warm eyes directly on you it takes a moment to push the words out. “Would you like to set your bag down? While you browse?”

He flutters his eyelashes at you while he thinks, and your middle turns to honey.

“Thanks. Been a hell of a trip.” You idly wonder where he’s travelled from. His weariness makes you suspect a little further than a quick hop. You watch the man puff as he emancipates himself from his pack, setting it down at the foot of the counter. You see the glimpse of a jaunty, roll-neck Christmas jumper as he unfurls his scarf too, setting that down as well as the warmth of your store envelops him.

He smiles and nods at you as he commences his browse around your display stands and shelves, scanning every inch of your store. Pausing sometimes in front of some items and rocking foot to foot as he ponders. Picking up little trinkets and items and turning them over contemplatively in his broad hands. Replacing each carefully and stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets -pulling them tight over his rump- as his face scrunches in deep consideration, lips coming to a pout and brows knitting.

Watching him, you find yourself suddenly and entirely ambivalent to the fact you’d just been about to shut up shop; despite having promised yourself yourself only moments before his arrival that you were out of here. Still, you suppose you do have places to be tonight. Stunning as he is, you feel you should probably make some attempt to expedite his purchasing.

Doing your non-intrusive shopkeeper walk, you emerge from behind the counter and round to the door, subtly flipping your sign to “closed” for good measure. Then, you round towards the man, stepping up beside him, your hands clasped neatly in front of you. “Can I help you find that special something?”

He turns. Smiles at you. Points up with his index finger, his eyebrows jumping towards his hairline. “That’s the name of the shop.” You enjoy the gravel in his voice, rough and thawing like gritted sidewalks.

It is. Special somethings.

This close, you notice that his cheeks and the tip of his nose are ruddy from the cold. You notice the subtle dusting of freckles on his nose too. Your face feels suddenly warm. “It is. So can I help you find anything special? Is there someone specific you’re shopping for?”

He rocks from foot to foot again. Saws his hand back and forth over his stubble and you hear it bristle. The sound sends a hum of electricity which beds down under your skin. “I was supposed to pick something up before I left Colombia.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t know what to bring them.”

Parents? Friends? Spouse and/or children?

Is it unprofessional to be willing so hard that he be single?

You smile softly as his eyes flick back to pore over the shelves. He seems on edge. Whoever he is visiting for the holidays, it must be a big deal.

“I can help with that,” you soothe. “We can find something perfect.”

He runs a nervous hand through his curls, displacing them into something even more wonderful. He emits a one-noted laugh, offering you a lazy flash of teeth. “Bottle of tequila’s not going to cut it this time. My buddy…” You can’t help but note the affection he imbues those words with. “He and his wife have invited me over to their place. For Christmas.” He pumps his eyebrows, as if he can’t quite comprehend their gesture.

You make your eyes wide, showing that you are listening. It’s not hard - in truth, you are rapt.

“Okay,” you nod. “We can work with that.” You look hastily around the low-stocked shelves. “A classic gift to ease along their Christmas, and show your gratitude, right?”

He huffs air out from between those kissable lips. “More like a ‘sorry for being here’ kinda thing.” He laughs but it is a terse, self-deprecating sound. “Got anything for that?”

You start to walk in a direction and with your hand you wave him along with you. He follows. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you!” You know you’re certainly delighted to see him. There’s a lot to look at. “Now, what about this?” You pass the item into his hands, your fingers brushing his, and he turns it over in his palms like he had all the others.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “This is great but I…” He chews on his lip, and you wait patiently for him to finish his sentence. “I’ve been away a long time. And I haven’t been the best at… I haven’t really been… He’s my best friend, you know, and I…”

You don’t know, because he’s not finishing any of his sentences, but at the same time; you get it. You can fill in some of the blanks. His buddy means a lot to him. He’s been away for a while, and now he feels like he’s at a deficit. That he has something to make up for. That he doesn’t fully deserve his friend’s freely offered invitation to spend their special day with them.

“Okay,” you reassure softly, slipping the item from his hands and placing it haphazardly back on the shelf. “We can keep trying.”

You hover a hand around his elbow, and lead him over towards the next stand you have in mind, following the same routine. You pass a series of objects to him and he turns them over and around; but not a single one seems to spark anything. Not a single item seems good enough. Nothing, to him, feels adequate enough to gift to this man who clearly means a lot to him. Nothing seems adequate to make up for the gesture he sees as far too generous. That he sees as an intrusion.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, upon seeing you surreptitiously checking the clock on the wall. “Shit, look at me. It’s Christmas Eve. You probably have somewhere to be. I’m such as ass.” He’s been unconsciously stalling, you think. He’s nervous about going to his buddy’s house. And, truth be told, if your store can provide him a temporary haven, then you are more than content to be a little late in catching-up with your friends tonight.

Feeling bold, you place your hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it. I’ve got the perfect thing.”

His eyes settle on you for a moment as you lean in, your voice warm and smooth and enticing like a mug of hot chocolate. His gaze flits gently over your face. “For real?” You quash the vague urge to bite his sizeable earlobe.

“Yeah!” You enthuse, an excited smile spreading over your face. “Come here. Over to the counter.”

You skip over there, your mellow shopkeeper walk forgotten, and you grab something up from the counter, waiting for him to cross to you.

The man obediently stands in front of you, clearly intrigued by the gleeful, slightly mischievous expression on your face.

Then, once he’s stood still, you produce a large, shiny Christmas bow from behind your back, the backing already peeled off to expose the adhesive. Next, with a flourish, you stick it ceremoniously on to his coat, patting it down firmly to affix it to the right side of his chest.

He compresses his chin into his chest to peer down at it, a surprised smile crinkling his nose. “What’s this?”

“It’s you.” Your eyes shine brightly as you explain. “You are the perfect special something to take to your friend’s house.”

His warm eyes search yours, his doubtful tongue darting along his lower lip.

With careful fingers, you fluff out the shiny, elaborate bow, making it perfect. “Really,” you insist. “You clearly have so much love for your friend. And, I’d guess, from the fact you’re invited to share their special day with them, that you mean just as much to them too.” On instinct, you reach up to smooth the lapels of his coat with your palms. “I don’t care how long it’s been since you saw them. You don’t need to be nervous. Nothing you can arrive with is going to be a better present than you being there with them - allll the way from Colombia- just like they wanted.”

His eyes grow misty with a depth of feeling. His lips hover between round shapes of stunned silence and curved watery smiles. His gaze flits all over your face again, until he is finally overcome by a 100-watt smile. “Alright. Then how much for the fancy bow?” He taps it proudly with his index finger.

“Free of charge,” you smile, batting your lashes at him.

“That’s a terrible business model.”

You release a bright laugh. “Silly! I’m just trying to get you out of my shop.” You nod towards the sign on the door. “Don’t you know we’re closed?”

His eyes sparkle as he receives your joke, and you cling on to the sweet, eddying feeling his smile inspires. You each linger there a moment more, until the man finally nods, sweeping up his pack from the floor and replacing it on his back, careful not to disturb the new shiny ornament adorning his chest. “I’d better get going then,” he revs softly, and -you think- as reluctant as you are to part ways. Stalling now for an entirely different reason.

It is as much as you can do to nod, smile fondly, and fold your arms around your middle.

“You, uh, got some nice plans for Christmas?” he asks as you walk him towards the door, dragging out the moment as far as is humanly possible.

“Yeah,” you tilt your head from side to side. “Spending it with my friend Frankie, his wife Ava and their kid. Think they took pity on me.”

Your patron looks at you very curiously then, a wild sparkle of delight dancing in his beautiful warm eyes. “Huh. Frankie sounds a lot like my buddy. The type to take in strays at Christmas.”

“Something like that,” you smile, then, to your surprise, your patron leans in, pressing his lips to your cheek in a chaste kiss, the tip of his nose still cold as he sinks it into the soft cushion of your face.

A giddy delight rises in your stomach. It is something like butterflies; spring already in the depths of mid-winter. Then, your customer grins. “I’ve a feeling I’ll be seeing you again,” he ventures.

“I hope so,” you bravely venture back as he steps out into the cold, snowflakes once again dusting him, like icing sugar all over a delightful snack.

“And hey,” the man says before he turns from you to plod along the street. “Thank you.” You look at him quizzically. What for? He looks you up and down once more, drinking you in like a measure of warming mulled alcohol. “For helping me find something special, just in time for Christmas.”

You heart thuds wildly as you watch him walk away, his words laced with a subtle double-meaning.

You close up the shop, pleased that you stuck around to serve that one last customer. He didn’t buy anything, but he might just be the best gift you’ve had all year.

You giggle to yourself as you pull the shutter.

Makes perfect sense that you stuck a bow on him, you think.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #Oscar Isaac #triple frontier

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age-of-play-i-say · 1 year

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the birds and the pees

“Sweetie!” Daddy chuckles above my head, admonishing but light-heartedly, “I’m not going to change my mind just because you’re so cute and bouncy today, okay?”

I pout, unable to keep back a little whine into Daddy’s chest as my baby winkie pulses again. Daddy has thwarted every effort I’ve made towards relief for my little stiffy. And he’s about to explain why yet again. I can barely hear him over the roar in my ears, the squeeze in my abdomen.

I have to make tinkles so bad, I can’t hang on much longer. But Daddy’s plans are diabolical.

“Baby, don’t pout - you can solve both problems right now! You can play horsey on Daddy’s thigh as soon as I know for certain you won’t make a mess. And how can I be certain?”

I can’t see his hands, but I can feel him gesturing at the object of my mortification.

A yellow, plastic training potty tucked in the corner of his office.

He brought it in yesterday, tucking a puppy pad underneath to catch any stray leaks (remembering him saying that proudly brings on the pink cheeks, and I have to wiggle to try to avoid a leak as my little bladder convulses) and told me his new plan for our mornings, grinning while I felt smaller and smaller.

After my private morning routine, when I came to join him, I wouldn’t be allowed to leave his office until his lunch break. That way he could keep an eye on me while I did enrichment activities and allowed me access to make my humpies on his lap whenever I needed.

But there was a catch. Like any good Daddy, he wanted to make sure I was developing properly.

And that meant knowing how often I needed to make tinkles.

He said he needed the data to analyze how often I might need “changes” and what “supplies” he might need as we continued unpotty-training. Being little, I don’t know those words, but I know how ashamed and needy just seeing the little bee-themed baby potty made me. My cheeks were pink, but so was my winkie, growing and peeping out from my pussy lips.

The idea made me bounce and whimper on my stuffies until I fell asleep last night.

Daddy knew how hard this would be for his shy, needy baby, so he set up a built-in reward system for making my tinkles in front of him in his office in the babyish chair.

“I can be certain-” Daddy continues, “if you just make potty in your brand-new chair. And after that, you are welcome to play horsey on Daddy’s leg . . . .or-” Daddy pauses to put both big hands on my tush and spread my hips open a bit to press his thingie against my less-than-dry undies and leans down to whisper directly in my ear.

“If you can fully empty your sore, aching bladder while looking me in the eyes like a good, shameless little one,” Daddy promises, playing on my obvious desperation, “Daddy will make stickies in your little hole, and you can keep Daddy’s stiffy warm in your baby hole as long as you want, how does that sound?”

I whine loudly, my dignity forgotten. My hole and winkie pulse, all wet and naughty for Daddy, but I’m too full.

A leak bursts out of me, and I yelp, shaking to try to keep from letting any more out, grinding down without thinking.

Daddy inhales sharply, feeling the warm stream sprinkle his leg where I’m whimpering and humping.

With effort, he grabs my shoulders and steels himself.

“Baby.” His voice is firm and clear, and he pushes my shoulders back to look in his eyes.

“I’ve been perfectly clear. Don’t you dare make your wee-wees on my good pants. Not when you have another perfectly good option right here. Don’t make me skip ahead to diapers before we’re ready for that. I want this on your terms, but be my good baby and get your butt over to that potty, little one. Now, please!”

I scramble backwards at this clear direction, almost losing my balance as I tumble out of Daddy’s lap.

This is an emergency, I’m shaking and dripping little trickles that my undies are mostly keeping in check. It hurts in my tummy and I look up at Daddy for his reaction. Besides his bulge and the dime-sized wet spot on his thigh, he seems remarkably unfazed, but his eyes are fixed between my legs, willing me to push through my potty shyness and enjoy the freedom he and I dreamed up for me.

My muscles and peehole start to give out right as I make the decision to fully trust in Daddy. I turn and skitter over to my new happy place. I stop having any Big thoughts as soon as my feet hit the puppy pad. The leaks start up again and I don’t stop to take off the ruined undies, just sitting my tush on my yellow plastic.

Feeling more little and happier than ever, I meet Daddy’s awed gaze.

“Dada, look! Baby make tinkies! Am good baby!” my mouth opens in a rounded ‘oh’ and my eyes glaze over with pleasure as my wee wees spray out wildly through my undies. The rattle of the plastic fills the room, as does my unrestrained moaning. When the pattering sounds turn to splashing, I start feeling euphoric and free.

My winkie is pulsing and my bottom half feels so light and free. I close my eyes and stick my hand down my ruined undies. The mess underneath makes a squelching sound as I start jerking my baby peeny just like Daddy showed me.

I’m still piddling steadily and open my eyes to find Daddy slack-jawed before me, big thingie in hand.

My stream slows and finally stops while Daddy and I stroke our stiffies at each other.

When it does stop, I feel a bit shy momentarily, but I smile right at Daddy and lean down to take off my undies. I let them fall on the puppy pad. Then I lean back with a grin and go right back to stroking my hard baby winkie over the potty holding all my tinkles.

Daddy gasps, thrilled at his baby’s breakthrough into littlespace, and drops his thingie long enough to gesture at me to hop in his lap.

I scamper over, no bottoms, baby parts still a little soggy from my partial accident. I position myself above Daddy’s stiffy and look coyly into his awed expression.

“I’m did it! I did good, dada?” I’m desperate for his approval, vulnerable and baby-like, his highest hopes for the new training potty achieved. I don’t wait for a response. I sit down on his grown-up stiffy, whimpering and whining loudly with pleasure.

I take my baby winkie in my fist again and start jerking sloppily before Daddy takes over, stroking me with a firm rhythm.

“Yes, baby.” his voice is thick, full of emotion from seeing his baby extra regressed, so trusting and free. “That was perfect. You’re perfect for Daddy.”

#maple speaks #omutsu #omocute #md/lb #dd/nb #dd/lb relationship

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mariharem-trash-heap · 1 year

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Talk Her Down

The inevitable seems to have finally happened: Marinette gets akumatized after a friend gets hurt in the crossfire between her and Lila - and it’s up to her friends and classmates to do what they can to calm her down before Ladybug can purify her akuma.

Notes:

I really, really love the trope of “this isn’t you, I know you’re in there, let me talk you down”. ESPECIALLY when it’s between friends. It’s just so (chef’s kiss)

Also yes, I’m well aware eastern and western dragons are largely different - I’m keeping mostly elements from eastern dragons because they’re super cool and underrated over here in the west.

(This will have hints at a Mariharem (but I couldn’t resist adding a lot more Lukanette because that ship still has my heart, sue me)

What began as a bright, sunny day had suddenly grown dark, sinister clouds rising to shun the sun and bathing the city of Paris in a thick gray curtain of dread.

Civilians looked on in horror from the relative safety of their homes at the giant red and black dragon weaving her way through the air, steam hissing from her nostrils, gleaming golden eyes narrowed in rage.

“LILA!” A thundering roar reverberated through the streets. Whoever remained outside had to clap their hands over their ears lest the painful ringing the sound caused actually did them damage as raindrops began to fall from the skies.

The softest tinkling of bells in the akuma’s wake was offset by another earsplitting roar, masking the panting of the two heroes trying to follow her.

“Man, who gave her control over the weather?” Chat Noir complained, eyes narrowed against the growing sprinkling of rain.

“I think it’s-- a culture thing?” Chanceux answered hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth as they vaulted another rooftop. His fingers were beginning to slip. “We need to change her back before all of Paris floods!”

Chat winced, troubling memories resurfacing. “Yeah,” he quietly murmured.

“Marinette!” Alya shouted from the roof of Le Grand Paris, squinting against the pounding rain.

The dragon whipped her head around, and glinting eyes settled squarely on the reporter, just a tiny, tiny figure on the roof below her.

“Mari, hey,” she continued, her tone dropping into a more soothing one. “Look, I know you’re upset - but you can’t let Hawkmoth get to you! You’re hurting people!”

“Hurting people?!” She exclaimed. “Lila has been the one hurting people for far too long! She needs to face the consequences of hurting my friends!”

Alya tried her best not to heave a frustrated sigh. “I know! I know, believe me, Marinette, I know. But what you’re doing - this isn’t you! The Marinette I know would never hurt so many innocent people like this!”

For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker by the akuma’s eyes - something troubled.

“Please,” she pleaded, reaching out to her friend. “Fight him, Marinette. You’re better than him.”

It seemed to have worked. And then that irritating glowing purple outline appeared before her face and she let loose another earth-shaking roar; and with a rush of wind so strong it nearly blew her off of the building, the akuma - Marinette - had gone.

Alya huffed, raising her phone to speak clearly into it, “Sorry guys, I tried. She’s beyond even listening to me.”

“Got it, babe,” Nino answered, before hanging up and slipping his phone back into his pocket. Turning around, he surveyed the members of Kitty Section... minus their guitarist.

“Where’s Luka?” Mylene wondered aloud, worry knitting her brow.

“He...” Juleka hesitated, but Rose’s comforting arm around her shoulders helped her finish, “...he wanted to try and talk her down. I told him it was a stupid idea, but he insisted.”

“If he can’t do it, we won’t be able to either,” Ivan admitted glumly.

Rose looked around the group in desperation. “But we’ve got to try something! That’s Marinette!” She cried, turning her pleading gaze on her girlfriend. “None of us liked to be akumatized, did we?”

An awkward air hung around as the rest of them either shook their heads or mumbled various “no”s and “not really”s.

“It’s not our faults we were akumatized,” the blonde reasoned. “I know I would’ve loved someone to help me fight off Hawkmoth’s butterfly.”

Juleka turned to her, a soft, solemnness to her eyes. “But would you have listened?”

Here, Rose opened her mouth to reply... then a few seconds later, shut it and slowly shook her head.

“We’ve still got to try something,” Ivan repeated, raising his drumstick. “For Marinette.”

“For Marinette,” Mylene echoed.

“For-”

“Marinette!” Nino exclaimed, finally spotting the serpentine akuma slither its way through the clouds.

It almost appeared she didn’t hear them, but finally she slowly turned to fix a hard stare on the group. Steam hissed again from her nose, as if in an annoyed snort. Something akin to frills - or spikes? - flared back and forth down her back, jet-black fading to white tips.

“Marinette!” Nino repeated, relief flooding his voice as he adjusted his glasses. “Oh, dude! We’ve been worried sick-- hey, where are you going?!”

She didn’t dignify him with an answer, turning back and returning to her course.

Nino watched her go, agape in shock.

“We tried,” Juleka heaved a sigh and patted his shoulder. “It’s up to the rest, now.”

“Luka...” she quietly wondered to herself, “... where are you? Please be safe...”

“Ugh, why am I here again?” Chloe huffed, turning her back on the group in the courtyard.

“Maybe if we use you as bait, we can keep her in one place for long enough that Chat Noir and Ladybug--” Alix hesitated, “--Chanceux can purify her.”

“That’s ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Do you want all of us to become fish food?” The blonde demanded. “Sabrina, we’re leaving.”

For once, the redheaded girl hesitated, watching Chloe begin to walk off.

Once she registered that no footsteps were echoing behind her, the rich girl paused, turning back with a raised brow. “Well? We don’t have all day, Sabrina - I’m already soaked enough as it is from all this stupid rain.”

All eyes fell to the girl, who shrank a little from the scrutiny. Alix and Kim looked to her in disdain, Chloe, expectant, and Max was still searching the clouds.

“I... no,” she murmured.

“What?” Chloe squinted, leaning in with a hand cupped to her ear. “I didn’t hear you. Speak up, will you?”

“I said no,” Sabrina stated forcefully, more forcefully than she meant to, judging by the surprise in her face. “I’m staying here. I...” she glanced to Max before looking her friend in the face, “I want to help Marinette too.”

It was silent for a second, save for the pounding rainstorm. Chloe was utterly aghast.

Then the blonde scoffed, whirling around and walking away. “Whatever, your loss. I’m going home where it’s warm and safe.”

“Wait, there she is!” Max suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the skies. The other students crowded around, watching a bright red line rushing through the clouds, cutting clean through the gray like a bullet.

“Marinette!” Kim bellowed as loud as he could. “We need you to stop!”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t give a single indication that she’d heard.

Max paused, pondering something quietly to himself for several long seconds. When Chloe gave another dismissive scoff, he looked up, a newfound determination in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea; but first, who has Lila’s number?”

“Luka, where in the hell are you?” Juleka questioned.

“Nowhere you should go to in this weather,” he answered, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he got off the bike. Pulling off his helmet, he returned his phone to his hand and looked around. “Wait for me at the Liberty. I’ll be back as soon as I talk to her.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? She didn’t even listen to us.”

“She’s... so angry, right now,” he murmured, and a chord of pain struck his chest as he heard another angry roar ripple through the sky. “I’m hoping I can at least keep her for a minute - but if I’m lucky...”

“If you’re lucky, she’ll decide to spare you,” his sister huffed. After a second of silence on her end, she added, “The band is worrying about you. Hurry up and come home.”

Luka managed a chuckle at the warmth belied in her voice. “Will do.”

As he hung up the phone, he walked through the park until he finally came to the spot - and pulled out his guitar.

“Marinette!” He called, seeing her soaring above.

At the sound of his voice, the thunderous rain seemed to lessen in intensity for a moment - and so did the heat in her eyes as she turned to hover above the park.

Smiling up at her, he ran a hand through his drenched hair and pulled out a pick. “I know you’re angry right now... horribly angry... but I want you to hear something.”

Tilting her head slightly, she gave no indication she would take off.

Strumming a few chords, he began to play a song - one that he knew almost as well as his own, or his sister’s, or his mother’s. As he looked up at her, he could see her golden eyes closing, an echo of the day they met.

“Is it working?” He questioned, sparing a glance up at her hovering form. “Can I finally... be the one to calm her anger, just as she tried to bring me back all that time ago?”

The next time he looked up at her, his hopeful smile fell into a despairing gape as a familiar purple mask faded before her eyes, and they reopened - full of pain and anger.

“Marinette--!” he began, but his guitar slipped from his hands as giant, gleaming talons wrapped about him, tight enough so that he couldn’t wiggle free.

“Marinette!” Another voice yelled, and the akuma turned with a growl at the people leaping into the park.

Chat Noir and Chanceux led the charge, a group of teenagers following close behind. With them was a familiar person wrapped up like a package, angry and glaring - until she saw the akuma.

Lila squeaked, struggling against the rope. “When you said you were going to get help, this is NOT what I--”

“LILA!” The akuma’s roar dizzied them for a few moments, and the rain began to pelt them like hail.

“Marinette, stop!” Chanceux exclaimed, darting in front of the girl as the dragon dropped Luka only a foot to the ground in anticipation of grabbing her instead. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted Lila? Why?”

“Because she hurt Marc!” The dragon snarled, eyes flashing in fury at the memory. “She ruined his comic because he stood up for me!”

“Mari, Marc is okay,” the red-and-black-spotted hero tried to soothe, raising his hands placatingly. “So what if Lila ruined ou-- his comic? He’s already planning on making a better one!”

Marc chose that moment to hobble over from the crowd, trying to smile up at the serpent with tearstained cheeks.

“Marc...” The akuma murmured, all heat gone from her voice. “Your eyeliner is running.”

“Oh, is it?” His smile dropped, and he swiped at his eye with his thumb. Sure enough, a smudge of black stained it. “Well, that’s no big deal, is it? I’m more worried about you.”

“We all need you to shake off Hawkmoth,” Alya pleaded next. “We’re here to help. You would’ve done the same for us. It’s only fair we do the same thing for you.”

“We love you, Marinette,” Rose implored. “Please.”

The akumatized girl looked back and forth between her friends, brow knit in indecision.

Suddenly Hawkmoth’s voice snarled in her ears. “What are you doing, Huangdi?! You need to take the Miraculous!”

Clenching her eyes shut in pain, she screamed as a wave of agony flooded over her through the mindlink.

“He’s hurting her!” Ivan exclaimed.

“Quick, Chanceux,” Chat said, catching the hero’s attention, “where is the akumatized item? Do you see it?”

Scanning the creature, the hero’s brow knit together in confusion - until he saw it.

“The tail,” he stated. “The object is wrapped around the tail.”

Chat looked, and indeed, it was a beaded object tightly strung around it. His throat constricted, and his heart began to race - he recognized it.

“Do we have to break it to get the butterfly?” He questioned aloud.

“I hope we don’t,” the ladybug hero answered softly. “How can we talk her down with Hawkmoth abusing the mindlink?”

A cry from the dragon interrupted their little talk, and the two looked back to see the dragon land with a thud on the ground, her magnificent length spreading across the entirety of the park as she tried to cover her ears with her talons.

“Marinette!” Alya cried in alarm, rushing over to her.

“Please, please make it stop,” Huangdi begged, tears filling her eyes.

The group froze in fear.

Then, Rose spoke up. “Group hug!”

Determinedly marching over, she reached out and wrapped her arms around one of the dragon’s, holding it to her chest as tight as she could.

“Rose...?!” Juleka questioned.

“Go away, Hawkmoth!” Rose yelled as if she hadn’t heard her. “You big meanie! Leave Marinette alone!”

Bewildered, a few of the group exchanged glances.

Shrugging, Alix and Kim walked over with confident faces and joined Rose in hugging Huangdi’s arm and shouting at the villain.

“You stink, Hawkmoth,” Kim scoffed. “Hurting our friend like this? If you were here I’d punch you right in the face!”

“Not before me you wouldn’t!” Alix retorted, squeezing the scaled appendage as tight as she could.

“What... are they doing...?” Chat breathed as more and more made their way towards the dragon.

“I... I think they’re bullying Hawkmoth,” Chanceux let out a tiny little hysterical laugh. With an incredulous smile, he shrugged and made his way over to their hostage.

“You suck, Hawkmoth!” Nino joined in, pressing himself against their friend’s side. “C’mon, Marinette, you can totally kick him out!”

“Do it for me!” Alya added, trying her best to hug her as she planted herself firmly at her throat. “Come on, Marinette, you can do it. I know you can show this bully who’s boss.”

“Go away, Hawkmoth!” Sabrina yelled in unison with Rose.

Huangdi’s eyes continued to water, and large tears spilled over the sides of her cheeks and splattered to the ground with the rain.

Luka had long since picked himself up and pressed a hand against her scaled jaw. When she looked down at him, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“You can do this, Marinette,” he encouraged. “Where’s the amazing girl that stood up to XY for us?”

“I...” The dragon sniffled a little.

Slowly, her voice began to change from its guttural timbre to something softer.

“Hey, it’s working!” Mylene exclaimed in relief. “Come on, Marinette...!”

Slowly, the dragon began to flicker - and with a bright light and a sharp scream, she disappeared, leaving a shivering, sobbing Marinette in her wake. Her classmates fell to the ground abruptly, letting out exclamations of surprise, and Chanceux was quick to dart away from Lila and towards the dark-purple butterfly trying to flutter away.

“Gotcha!” He exclaimed with pride as it disappeared into the yo-yo. “Your evil comes to an end, akuma!”

Throwing the yo-yo into the air, he followed it with “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Almost immediately a bright light pierced the sky, and a swarm of ladybugs chased it as it shooed away the dreary blanket. Slowly, the bright blue sky came back into view as the rain came to an end. Rainbows danced about as the last of the rain shimmered in the sun’s cheerful rays.

Alya was the first to get to her. “Marinette, are you okay?”

Nodding wordlessly, she collapsed into her best friend’s arms, still crying - and one by one, the rest of them joined the group hug. Luka glanced towards Chat and Chanceux, gesturing towards the pile with expectant eyes.

The ladybug hero sighed, smiling in relief as he joined in. Chat hesitated, but Nino caught his eye and pointed at Marinette. He gave in and hugged around Alya and Luka.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” Marinette whimpered, trying to wipe away her tears. “I was just... so upset and hurt that I lost it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marc spoke up firmly, brushing away his own tears and squeezing her arm. “Like Chanceux said, I can always make an even better one.”

“Um, hello?” Lila groused. “Right here...”

“Oh, right,” Chat remembered with a glower, turning to the Italian girl. “As for little miss troublemaker, I want you out of the class effective immediately.”

“Wh- what?” It wasn’t just Lila, but Marinette who answered. The group stared at her even as she spluttered, “Chat, are you sure--?”

“She has caused too much harm in the classroom, Mari,” he stated, his usual banter traded for a serious tone that demanded she listen. “Not just to you - now she’s involved someone from another class, and it’s not just Bustier’s problem to deal with anymore.”

“He’s right,” Juleka added. “Nathanael and Marc are my friends. I can’t just sit and watch her start bullying Marc.”

“Th- that wasn’t-- I was just--” The brunette stammered.

“You tore up something precious to him,” Chanceux suddenly spoke up, voice flickering with anger as he stared her down. “That’s something Chloe would do, sure - but you? After everything we did to try and be nice to you?”

“It’s bullying,” Chat emphasized, folding his arms across his chest. “Marinette, I know you don’t want to make things harder, but I don’t feel comfortable having another bully in the classroom after everything else that’s happened this year.”

There was a heavy few seconds of silence from the group.

Finally, Marinette swallowed. She nodded her head and admitted, “... I’m not going to argue with you. In fact, I agree. I don’t want to have to deal with that anymore. It was enough being the only one having to keep quiet - but I am not going to stand around and watch my friends get the same treatment.”

Alya pulled away with a concerned frown. “So it was true, then? She lied?”

“She lied about the connection with Dargaud,” Marc confirmed. “I assume she’s lied about other things as well, but that one affects Nath and I.”

“I can’t believe this.” The reporter shot her a disappointed stare. “I was so set to publish that interview with you, too. That would’ve gotten me so much hate if people actually contacted them and asked about you, you know? I can’t believe I didn’t even see it earlier; you don’t even like comics.”

“I- I do,” Lila defended. “I read a ton of webcomics all the time!”

“You didn’t even know the name of the studio you were promising a gig with,” Chanceux pointed out with narrowed eyes.

“Do I have to know the names of every single last place I work with, now?” She questioned, exasperated and upset. “I mean come on, not even Gabriel Agreste himself would know like half the models and agencies he collaborates with. Excuse me for having a bad memory.”

Rose shifted from foot to foot. “This one was a lie, but... surely she can’t have lied about everything, right? Who just does that?”

Marinette turned to give Chat a flat look over Alya’s head. He nodded in response.

“Chanceux, why don’t we let her loose,” he said to the hero standing near her.

Pursing his lips, the redheaded boy thought for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. Might as well; the only thing she did was serve as bait for the akuma.”

Pulling at the end of the bow, the rest of the rope sagged free, and so did Lila. She got up, rubbing her sore arms, and glared at the group.

“Now I’m wet, muddy, and have ropeburn,” she complained with a heavy sigh. “Mama is going to have a fit when she sees how dirty my clothes got...”

As she ran off, the heroes returned their attention to the pile.

“Thanks, guys, I’m feeling a lot better now.” With another sniffle, Marinette smiled weakly at her friends. “I feel so ashamed for giving in...”

“Believe me, I was really close,” Marc commented with a light laugh. “If you hadn’t jumped in front of me and took the butterfly when you did...”

“You continue to be an Everyday Ladybug,” Chat praised with a soft smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Marinette. I’m just glad we were able to snap you out of it.”

Extending his hand, he added, “Why don’t I take you home? I’m sure your parents are worried sick.”

“Better idea, why don’t we have a sleepover tonight?” Alya asked, glancing around at the girls. “That way, we can keep an eye out for any more nasty butterflies.”

“I’m down.” Alix nodded. “I’ll ask my dad.”

“Sounds like fun!” Rose cheered, Juleka nodding in agreement.

“I’ll ask my dad,” Mylene said, folding her hands together.

“It’s settled.” Alya smiled triumphantly, squeezing Marinette’s shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Marinette. Just say the word and we’ll help you beat away Hawkmoth’s akumas with a superpowered stick if we have to!”

“You don’t have to,” laughed the girl as she wiped her last tear away and took Chat’s hand. “But thank you. Really, thank you. I’m glad to have you all as my friends.”

“No,” said the ladybug hero, his eyes growing soft at the pigtailed girl, “thank you for being ours.”

#miraculous ladybug #lila salt #akumanette #akuma class sugar #angst with a happy ending #long post

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chaotic-on-main · 10 months

Text

Do you hear that?? The tinkling chime of your favorite instrumental blasting from an oncoming ice cream truck down the street? It's summer where I'm at which means it's time for hot weather and cold ice cream!

Let me write you a drabble/one-shot!

My freezer is on full blast and my shutters are now open until July 31st! What can I get ya?

What I need from you:

☀️ Send me an ask with your preferred ice cream and favorite topping! ☀️ Please only one ice cream and topping at a time, but you are absolutely allowed to request more than one! ☀️ With your ask, please give me a general scenario/idea you'd like to see in it! As you'll see, the tropes are very vague and if you're able to give me some specifics, it will help a ton!

Rules:

☀️ Must be 18+ to partake. Please have your age on your blog. It doesn't have to be specific, just "over 18+" will do! ☀️ I do not and will not write smut, but I can do suggestive as stated below. I also will not write non-con, A/B/O, SA, or cheating. ☀️ No anons allowed. If you ask on anon, I will not answer. Unfortunately with anons, I have no way to confirm your age. ☀️ I do reserve the right to turn down a request. I may dm you with a reason why if I choose not to.

Important notes:

☀️ I do not plan to start on these until I finish my last chapter of my main fic Unspoken Words which means it will probably end up being the beginning of July! ☀️ All characters are aged up. ☀️ I've never written for a lot of these characters so it might take me a bit longer but I WILL get it done. ☀️ This is open to any and all. Following not required but much appreciated! ☀️ I will most likely write gn!Reader unless stated otherwise! ☀️ If not stated, I will most likely write these in a ModernAU unless I can make it work in canon! I may dm you if I'm running into problems.

☀️ Levi ➵ matcha green tea ☀️ Hange ➵ mint chocolate chip ☀️ Erwin ➵ rum raisin ☀️ Miche ➵ cinnamon ☀️ Armin ➵ vanilla bean ☀️ Sasha ➵ cookie dough ☀️ Jean ➵ peanut butter cup ☀️ Connie ➵ cookies and cream ☀️ Marco ➵ double fudge brownie ☀️ Reiner ➵ lemon sorbet

☀️ Gojo ➵ birthday cake ☀️ Megumi ➵ pralines and cream ☀️ Toge ➵ chunky monkey

☀️ Tanjiro ➵ raspberry sorbet ☀️ Nezuko ➵ red velvet cake ☀️ Rengoku ➵ pumpkin spice ☀️ Uzui ➵ neopolitan ☀️ Shinobu ➵ lavender and honey ☀️ Mitsuri ➵ sakura blossom ☀️ Giyuu ➵ sea salt dark chocolate

☀️ Percival ➵ coffee ☀️ Vex’ahlia ➵ salted caramel ☀️ Scanlan ➵ rainbow sherbet ☀️ Pickle ➵ orange dream ☀️ Keyleth ➵ butterscotch ☀️ Vax’ildan ➵ black cherry ☀️ Grog ➵ rocky road

☀️ Sprinkles ➵ first date ☀️ Caramel drizzle ➵ hallmark AU ☀️ Whipped cream ➵ meet-cute ☀️ Chopped nuts ➵ blind date ☀️ Cookie crumbles ➵ hurt/comfort ☀️ Candy ➵ mutual pining ☀️ Fresh fruit ➵ suggestive (smut-adjacent) ☀️ Hot fudge ➵ one bed ☀️ Kitchen sink ➵ whatever you want (within my limits)

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wordsofrowan · 5 months

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The Shadow Court

Chapter 12 - As the Shadows Grow

After her conversation with Adrien, Kagami returned home, a whirlwind of emotions churning within her. Confusion seemed to be her dominant feeling at the moment. Her perception of Marinette had been skewed, tinted by her own assumptions. She had believed that Marinette's interactions with Adrien were driven by a sort of obsession, perhaps even a touch of psychosis. This skewed perception fueled Kagami's own dislike for Marinette, as she assumed Marinette was using Adrien.

However, the recent exchange with Adrien cast a different light on the situation. It appeared that her assumptions were misplaced. Marinette's intentions might have been more innocent and genuine than Kagami had thought. It seemed Marinette's actions were rooted in a desire to support Adrien, a sentiment that paralleled Kagami's own interactions with him.

Kagami felt a mixture of surprise and introspection. She realized how easily misconceptions could cloud judgment and create misunderstandings. As she replayed the conversation with Adrien in her mind, a sense of empathy began to replace her initial negative perceptions of Marinette. Perhaps it was time for Kagami to reevaluate her own feelings and assumptions.

In the midst of this introspection, Kagami's emotions remained tangled, a mixture of uncertainty and a growing inclination to view Marinette in a new light. Kagami decided that tomorrow after school she would skip out on fencing and go see Marinette and talk to her instead.

The next day arrived and the final bell of the day rang out, Kagami put a faint smile on her lips as she approached her red car. With all the grace she emits she slid into the vacant passenger seat, the car's engine hummed to life, propelling her smoothly to the gym. After stepping out onto the pavement, she broke away from her routine path that led to the fencing gym. Casting a quick glance at the bustling street before her, Kagami crossed it with purposeful steps and entered the quaint bakery on the other side.

The comforting aroma of freshly baked pastries enveloped her as she entered the bakery, its interior a cozy blend of warm colors and inviting scents. She selected a corner seat, affording her a clear view of the entrance, and settled in, her anticipation mingling with a hint of nervousness. Her fingers tapped a gentle rhythm against the table as she awaited Marinette's arrival, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and questions.

“Hello, sweetheart. Is there something I can get for you?” Sabine, her apron dusted with a sprinkle of flour, approached Kagami with the genuine warmth of a seasoned baker accustomed to making guests feel at home.

Kagami offered a polite smile, appreciating the genuine hospitality. “Uh, no thank you. I was actually planning to wait for Marinette here. I'd like to have a conversation with her.”

Sabine's smile remained kind and understanding. “Well, she should be back from school soon, and you'll have a chance to talk to her then. If you change your mind, though, feel free to indulge in a freshly baked croissant or a chocolate au pain – they're on the house.”

Kagami's gratitude for the offer glinted in her eyes. “Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.” The gentle ambiance of the bakery, coupled with Sabine's comforting presence, eased some of her initial nervousness.

The soft tinkle of the bell filled the air as the bakery door swung open, momentarily diverting Kagami's attention from her thoughts. “Kagami? What are you doing here?” Her focus was quickly recaptured as she heard her name being called.

“There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about if that's alright?”

“Sure of course, do you want to go up to my room?”

“I would like that very much Marinette.” Marinette held her hand out to Kagami, and despite the words, Kagami said to Marinette back on that day in the rolling rink, Kagami hesitated for a second before grabbing the bluenette's hand. A soft blush coated the Japanese girl's cheeks as her heart raced slightly faster.

Following Marinette up the stairs, Kagami's thoughts raced. She tried to decipher the tangled mess of emotions within her - the lingering doubts and newfound curiosity about Marinette. They entered Marinette's room, a place that seemed to reflect the bluenette's creative and vibrant spirit. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

Marinette took a seat at her computer chair and pointed at the chaise lounge chair across the room, “please have a seat,” Kagami settled into the pink chaise, her posture rigid as she clasped her hands together in her lap and looked at Marinette. The Chinese girl had such a soft look on her face that it made Kagami regret ever disliking the girl, to begin with.

“So what is it you wanted to talk about Kagami?” Marinette asked, her voice soft and her gaze seemed to be alight with curiosity.

Kagami let out a soft sigh, “it's about Adrien…” she said as she broke her eye contact with Marinette and instead chose to look at her intertwined fingers in her lap as if they had become the most interesting thing in the world to her at the moment, “it’s also about you.”

Marinette moved from the computer chair and sat on the longue next to Kagami. “Alright, the floor’s yours.”

Kagami’s hazel eyes met Marinette’s soft cerulean eyes and felt her resolve crumble more. "I realized that I might have misunderstood some things about you and Adrien and that I may have mistreated you because of those misunderstandings.”

Marinette nodded, her expression still gentle, “I can’t really say I blame you, I gave such a horrible first impression didn’t I?”

“I thought you were using Adrien, but now I see that that isn’t the case. I thought you were just stringing Adrien and maybe even Luka along for your silly little game. But now I see you were just as much of a victim of Agreste as I was.”

“What changed?” Marinette’s voice held a quiet encouragement, urging the Japanese girl to continue speaking.

“Adrien told me about what’s been happening at your school. About how that girl, Lila, has been hurting you and how he’s just…” Kagami bunched her skirt up in her fist as she felt her anger rising, “How he’s just watching it all happen and doing nothing and then is getting upset with you for trying to move on and do better for yourself.”

Marinette put her arms around Kagami. “Shhh, shhh Kagami it’s alright. Yes, it sucks what I’m going through but you don’t have to beat yourself up over it.”

“But I’ve been so unfair to you Marinette.” Kagami said looking up at Marinette, unshed tears pooling in her eyes, “I want to make it up to you.”

Marinette flashed a brilliant smile at Kagami that made her heart thaw. “Well, we can start by getting to know each other better. Maybe we can hang out sometime.”

Kagami found herself returning the smile, a genuine sense of hope blossoming within her. "I'd like that."

Marinette took Kagami’s phone and input her number into it. “Well now you have my number just call me anytime you like okay? I can’t promise I’ll always pick up but I will try to call or message back as soon as I can if I do end up missing your call.”

“Thank you again, Marinette,” Kagami said, she managed to surprise herself as she pulled Marinette into a hug. Kagami felt a blush creep on her face as the Chinese girl returned the hug giving her a comforting squeeze.

“We're friends now Kagami.” Marinette said as she smiled at the girl again, “See you around.” Kagami gave a small wave goodbye to Marinette as she left the girl's room.

Marinette swiftly hopped onto her bed and dialed Chloe's number. On the first ring, Chloe's picked up the phone which left a smile on Marinette’s face. “Oh my gods, Chloe, you won’t believe what just happened!”

Chloe's playful drawl resonated on the other end. "Oh, do tell, this should be exciting!"

“Take a wild guess at who I found waiting for me at the bakery when I got home.”

Chloe's tone was playful and intrigued. “Hmm, let me think. Not Jay, Lulu, or Fefe, right? Could it be Lila or Alya?”

Marinette chuckled, a grin evident in her voice. “Nope, and nope. It was Kagami!”

Chloe's response was punctuated by a gasp that bordered on dramatic. "Fencer girl herself? Well, well, isn’t that a surprise! Okay, you've got me hooked. What did she want?"

“She actually came to apologize. You know, for the way she treated me based on that whole Adrien situation. Apparently, Adrien himself explained things to her, and she was seriously not impressed with his behavior.”

Chloe's laughter rang through the line. “Well, well, the ice queen has a heart after all! Adrien must have really messed up for her to be apologizing to you. So, what's your take on this unexpected twist?”

Marinette's voice held a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Honestly, I never thought I'd see the day. But I think we might be on the path to... dare I say it... friendship? But you should’ve seen her Chlo she was acting all cute and shy. And she got so angry at herself for the whole Adrian mess, honestly, she was almost as mad as you were when you realized all the shit about Adrien.”

Chloe's playful tone lingered in her words. "Wow, she’s got the Chloe-level fury? That’s something! So, tell me, how does it feel to have people actually rooting for you?"

Marinette's voice softened with a touch of emotion. "It feels incredible. With you, Jay, Felix, Luka, and now Kagami in my corner, I finally feel like I can breathe easy."

Chloe's curiosity wasn't quenched. "Are you considering adding her to the squad's group chat?"

“I'm not sure yet this is still a new budding friendship, but I do see potential in her.”

Chloe's voice took on a contemplative tone. "Well, you've always had that effect on people. Your genuine kindness has a way of thawing even the iciest hearts." Chloe gave a soft chuckle “Heck just look at Fefe, Jay, and me.”

Marinette blushes slightly at Chloe’s words, “Aw Chloe; you're making me blush. But anyway you’ve grown so much since before and I’m so proud of you.”

“We’ve both grown so much. And as weird as it is to say we have Lila to thank for that.”

“Ew, I don’t even want to think about that,” Marinette said as she screwed her face up in disgust at the thought.

“But anyway when are we inviting Kagami to our next tea time?”

Marinette chuckled. "Oh, you're already planning the social events, aren't you? I'll let you know when things are official."

Chloe laughed in response. "Of course! You know me – always ready to add a touch of elegance to any situation." Chloe's tone was filled with mock surprise. "Oh, I can just imagine it now – Chloe, Marinette, and Kagami, the unstoppable trio!"

Marinette laughed softly. "Hey, you never know. Stranger things have happened."

Chloe's voice turned sincere. "You know, Marinette, I'm genuinely happy for you. You deserve all the friends and support in the world."

Marinette's heart swelled with affection for her friend. "Thank you, Chloe. Your friendship means the world to me."

#writing #spilled ink #miraculous au #miraculous fandom #marinette deserves better #akuma class salt #adrien salt #adrien bashing #chloe redemption #marigami

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x-heesy · 10 months

Text

𝗛𝗨𝗥𝗥𝝠𝗬 𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗗𝝠𝗬

Aye I got a pocket fulla kerosene

Aye I got the rocket finna torch ya face

Aye I got a pocket fulla felonies

Aye bout to cock it for the fuckery

Aye I'm boutta get this dough

Boutta bake yo mans fry him up on the stove

Boutta lick this hoe, lookin pitiful

Boutta bust .44 like the the big kick door

Drippity drooling in ya laceration

Then I'm gon get to masticating

Grey the master of decapitation

Get to scrapping drag you on the pavement

Smoking that flagrant, any location

I'm finna face it, trip on the laces ahh

9 9 drive by I spy uh

Yo clique too bitch not fly uh

Bye bye .45 yo mind uh

Too quick who dis? I sigh uh

White all on my face I'm lookin like a juggalo

Bitch I'm smokin moon rocks moon walkin on a hoe

Put ya phone on airplane mode ya man will never have to know

Shout out the 44 send my kids all down her throat

Imma grab some pool cleaner

Mix it with some aquafina

Sprinkle little bit of tina

Shoot it all down my urethra

Now I'm screaming at my walls and idk where i'm at

Imma grab some ketamine and overdose like mr krabs

Imma pull my penis out and tinkle all up on tha game

Imma body anybody that be getting in my way

Bitches sayin that they love me they don't even know my name

I ain't fuck w fake love so get the fuck up out my face

Roll up another dutch

In the east end villa

Dropped two tabs

Tripping sack at the riva

I'm tough as fuck

Finna eat a bowl of nails for dinner

I'm only 5'8

I can't never be no center @luna-zylum @bko69er @boanerges20

Moonwok by 99zed, Saliva Grey 👽

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navigating-through-gray · 1 year

Text

DSMP Christmas Story

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas @astronuke! Summary: In which Tommy adjusts to the existence of Christmas magic and also ghosts.

Tommy hadn’t thought much of working after hours on Christmas Eve.

As some bitch named ‘Annie’ will tell you it’s a hard-knock life for an orphan, and the best thing to do when you find yourself family-less for the holidays was to keep your head down and stay busy. He may as well spread some ‘cheer’ now via sugar and cinnamon, then take a nice long two week break after new years when the constant ads of happy families gathered ‘round a ten foot tree melted into the long gray slog to spring. The plan, as far as he was concerned, was perfectly logical and not a grinchly affront to all things red and green.

Apparently, Christmas disagreed. Because on that night, one snowy evening at 11:51, Tommy felt a flurry of snowflakes breeze over his back. He turned to the back door of the bakery and found it just as locked as he’d left it four hours before.

“What the fuck?”

“Language.”

Tommy whirled forward and spotted a man at the cash register. Like, a glowing green one. He blinked, and tilted his head to try and puzzle out whatever trick that was.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?!”

Tommy couldn’t see any lights on the guy. Just a creepy smiley-face mask and a whole lot of softly tinkling bells sewn into his ridiculous getup. How had he not heard those before?

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present, see the holly?” The man pointed to the small bush of spiked leaves and red berries on his head as if the plants proved he was something other than crazy.

“You’re breaking and entering is what you are, and you’d better keep your green-ass ugly mitts off my cookies!” Tommy’s voice rose to a yell as the stranger had the gal to pick up a Christmas tree from the display and begin eating it.

“Once again, watch the language kid. I could sign you up for one roller coaster of a night for lack of Christmas spirit if I wanted to.”

“Are you threatening me?!” Tommy continued to yell, who was this stranger to break into his bakery, steal the sweets and then admonish him for cussing him out? “I’ve got plenty of Christmas spirit! For your information I’m working my ass off so my boss can spend Christmas Eve with her family, you judgmental bastard.”

“I’ve seen your house.” The man in green prodded, “You don’t have a single decoration anywhere.”

“You’ve been to my house?!” Tommy brandished his frosting gun. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “I can see everyone’s houses. That’s my skillset. But I didn’t come in to rake you over the coals. You’re right about Niki, that was a really nice thing to do.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think. Stay away from Niki and get out of my bakery!” Tommy jabbed his weapon threateningly, but the man looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“Congratulations Tommy. I think you’ve earned a Christmas Miracle.”

“How do you know my name?! Damn creepy smiley-faced bastard-” Tommy began to curse as the stranger reached out toward the candy men he’d been touching up. The register was several feet away from his work station but Tommy still shrieked as if they were in reach. “I said keep your hands off my cookies!”

A blinding flash of light and the sound of tinkling sleigh bells filled the whole store. Tommy fell backwards with a cry and crashed into the sprinkles cabinet, spilling all sorts of glittering sugar over the floor.

The bloody maniac had a flash bomb! He wailed in his head, I’m blind! I’m blind! I’m- Tommy blinked his eyes open and found the man was gone.

“Yeah, you better run!” He called, standing up and glancing around nervously. Was the creep really gone? He had no idea how the man had come in, nor how he’d left. A stalker was definitely not the Christmas gift he’d ordered for himself online. Tommy was about ready to label the whole affair as fodder for what was going to be the worst night of his life when he caught sight of movement on the counter he’d been working on.

The motions were small and the colors made it hard to make out what Tommy was looking at, at first. He didn’t particularly want to get closer when the weird green guy could still be lurking around, so he stayed put. On the table, he made out three distinct shapes. One of the shapes tripled in size as a pair of glittering white wings unfurled, and Tommy abruptly remembered the angel he’d been working on, which meant the other reds and blues… He forgot about the creep. The wing looked to be marshmallow but Tommy couldn’t make feathers like that. Each primary was as delicate as lace. The red coat on his toy soldier rippled like actual fabric and not the sugary wax he’d molded hours before. And Niki’s sugar spun soldier was holding his own semi-transparent, impossibly delicate blue fingers up to the ceiling light.

The tiny men acclimated to life far faster than Tommy did to their existence. When the angel waved at him and said hello he didn’t do a damn thing to pick his jaw up off of the floor. While he was preoccupied the angel gave up and flapped his wings experimentally, while the red soldier and blue soldier looked over edge of the table and discussed the drop. The blue soldier began shimmying down a table leg. After a moment the red soldier shook his head and jumped onto Tommy’s chair and then the ground in much faster fashion. All three were quite obviously coming for him.

With a squeak Tommy stepped backwards and hit the back door of the bakery, still staring at the candy brought to life. He did, however, finally find his voice.

“Who-- How-- What?” What. Yes, that was the word he was looking for. “What the hell? What the hell.”

The red soldier waved from the ground. “Yo, kid. Did we break your brain?”

“Yes.” Tommy replied fervently. “Are you alive?”

“Yep.”

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” the blue soldier pitched in as he reached the ground. “We have a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“Oh. Really.”

“The green fellow, Dream,” the soldier waved his blue hand at the register, “Performed a Christmas miracle and brought us to life. It’s lovely to meet you, Tommy.”

“Oh. Is that all??” Tommy asked in a rather high voice, grappling with the idea. “So he can just. Bring shit to life. Just like that?” As he spoke the two soldiers reached his foot and Tommy eyed them suspiciously. “Did that creep create you to attack me? How do you know my name?”

The angel had finished adjusting to his wings and swooped into the air.

“Christmas magic.” He said simply, “And we don’t mean any harm. Dream is a spirit of Christmas, he can do just about anything.” The angel hovered and shrugged. “We wanted to help, and he did us a favor. Could you hold out your hands?”

Tommy complied, and the angel landed there. Tommy had to cup his hands as the angel steadied himself with tiny hands. “I’m Philza, and this is Technoblade and Wilbur.” Tommy stared down at him. Philza had been his first attempt at an angel yesterday, and the resulting white chocolate statue hadn’t been half bad. He’d carefully carved a flowing white robe and adorned the final product with pearl sprinkles and golden hair. The wings had been marshmallows carefully teased from a mold and attached with melted chocolate. Niki did the face, and they’d set the final product atop the Christmas tree in the right-side display.

To say Philza was that angel would be like comparing a rudolf plushie to a living, breathing, flying reindeer with a glowing red nose. Philza had hundreds of feathers, a mop of literally golden hair and a real, pearl-adorned white robe. And yet, somehow, it was all still candy.

After a moment Tommy registered he ought to say something. “I’m Tommy. TommyInnit.” Talking helped. He picked up steam, “Though you all already knew that, apparently.”

He knelt down carefully, to get a better look at Wilbur and Technoblade. “Are you all still made out of sugar? It’s just. Magic brought you to life?”

“Yep.” Technoblade offered, “Though even we can’t give you anything better than ‘Magic’ as to the how. Seems OP to me, but it benefits me so I’m not going to complain.”

“Certainly not.” Wilbur reached over and hooked his arm around Technoblade’s shoulder, “But now that we’ve established we are, in fact, alive I think it’s time to get to more important matters.” He looked up at Tommy in complete solemnity. “Tommy I have a question for you. The most important question I can ask.”

In his hand, Philza made a long suffering sigh. “Wilbur we just met the kid, and he’s clearly still taking all this in.”

“No!” Tommy cut in, “No, it’s okay. What do you have to ask me Wilbur?”

“Do you…” The blue soldier paused in utterly serious, dramatic fashion, “Have access to coffee?”

“Um. Yes. Yes I do?”

Wilbur nodded gravely, hope shining in his eyes. “And is that coffee… peppermint flavored?”

Tommy blanched. “No. But!” He immediately scrambled, “I can get you some! Walmart is, like, ALWAYS open-”

Wilbur cut him off with a cry. “YES! Oh dear god unflavored coffee.” The blue soldier spoke ‘unflavored’ like a prayer and threw himself forward to put a tiny hand on Tommy’s cupped fingers. “Take me to it, king, and I will be yours forever. I will tear down mountains and burn nations in your name.”

“Ok?”

Wilbur clambered onto his hand next to Phil and Technoblade followed suit, heaving himself up in a single graceful motion. Technoblade looked up. “So. Where to?”

---

Tommy carried them back to his apartment. The train ride home was nearly abandoned, though one guy pulled out his phone and began filming while Tommy walked to an empty car. The gingerbread men, as Tommy began to think of them, migrated to his shoulder when he needed to pull out his metro card and back to his hands once the train got moving. They spent the whole time talking.

Wilbur was the happiest throughout the walk to the station and did most of the talking. All three of them were apparently ghosts who’d died on Christmas, gaining them the tile of ‘Christmas ghosts’. Whatever that meant. When Tommy asked if that meant they were like Dream he got an overly complex answer that Technoblade succinctly boiled down to a ‘No’.

The after life was holiday themed and all three didn’t mind the crisp December wind and snow. Wilbur was the only one who had clear memories of life because Philza and Technoblade were old, thus the fixation on coffee.

Once they reached the platform, however, Wilbur visibly deflated. Technoblade, or just ‘Techno’ took up the conversation from there. He mostly asked Tommy about himself, and explained they’d only ever seen him at the bakery on Christmas eve.

“So you were watching me?” Tommy wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

“Not in a weird way,” Techno elaborated, “We only get one night to hang around and the shopping district always has cool displays. Seeing somebody making cookies is prime entertainment.”

“Well I am very entertaining.” Tommy said, puffing up. “But I can do way better stuff than making a bunch of Christmas cookies for Niki.”

“Oh yeah?” Techno hummed, “Like what?”

“Everything!”

Tommy went off on a tangent, describing movies, theme parks, soccer, and just about anything he deemed more exciting than baking.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the bakery. But watching someone else make cookies for hours? Not what I’d watch on youtube.”

By then they had just about reached his apartment, back in the biting outdoor air. Tommy barely noticed, and was further distracted when Wilbur asked, “What’s youtube?”

---

It was the best Christmas Eve Tommy could ever remember. He’d had the pleasure of introducing three new friends to his favorite channels and videos, who had all appropriately lost their shit at just the concept of a computer. Apparently, the Christmas afterlife lacked most technology.

They’d talked and joked long into the night, until at some point Tommy had dozed off mid netflix exploration turned Avatar marathon.

When he woke up, he found a continue watching screen and three horribly familiar gingerbread men. Tommy jolted upright, staring down at the candy men he’d previously made still and unmoving on the table.

“No way.” Tommy rubbed his eyes and blinked down at them, an awful pit forming in his stomach. There was no way he’d just imagined it all, was there?

Possessed, he snatched up the red soldier and carefully turned it over, running a finger over the wax cloak with a frosted hem. Wilbur’s coat was sugar. Phil’s wings were marshmallows. All of it made by human hands.

“C-c’mon guys. Don’t fuck with me.” Tommy tried, after he carefully set each down. He was met with heavy silence. The pit deepened into a hole, and his heart fell into it.

Last night was real. It had to be. Tommy grabbed his laptop and began to search for videos. That guy on the train. He had to have posted whatever he filmed, right? It was useless. Tommy was met with an endless stream of candy videos and children’s advertising. Candy men, gingerbread men, videos made in the past 24 hrs got him nowhere. After an hour Tommy was just about ready to throw the bloody thing across the room when his phone began to ring, and let him know that if last night was the best night of his life today was going to be the worst.

He was in deep shit with Niki about their missing decorations. Tommy had straight up lied and said he dropped them, and spent the rest of the day making a new angel. The soldiers went unreplaced and left the nutcracker and rat king armies in the left-side display looking a bit sparse. Niki helped but he felt awful for cutting into her holiday. Unlike him, Niki had a family waiting for her at home.

The new angel looked comparable to the first but nothing like Phil. The marshmallow wings were too thick and this doppelganger’s hair looked closer to straw than pale gold. He’d based the other rat king’s gingerbread soldiers on other animals and not even Niki’s blue spun sugar could match Wilbur from last night. The whole ridiculously extravagant display looked paltry now, a month of work ringing hollow. Niki seemed to pick up on his mood and tried to cheer him up, offering to invite him to her family dinner but Tommy turned her down. He went home determined never to look at the stupid displays again.

When he walked into his cold empty apartment and saw the shapes unmoving on the table he walked right back out again, but sunset quickly turned the winter air frosty and Tommy was too broke to go to a bar or something. He had to go back in and avoid looking at them while boiling up a pack of ramen. He took the soup back to his bedroom and managed two bites before dumping the rest, which proved to be a mistake when he got hungry later in the night.

At 11:18 the end of Schlatt’s reactions playlist beamed up at him from his laptop. Tommy hadn’t moved from his nest of blankets since getting rid of the soup. Everything was awful, and he could tell he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon. He got up and took a shower, scrubbing at irritated puffy eyes which only resulted in them getting more red and puffy. Things were an iota better now that he was clean and spent. Techno, Philza and Wilbur were still on the table.

Tommy sat down and stared, pathetically willing them to come back to life, the smell of peppermint, cinnamon, and white chocolate surrounding him. Last evening had been looping over and over in his mind, and Tommy was convinced he’d never come up with something so crazy. It had to have happened.

He picked up Wilbur, Niki’s handiwork closer to what had been alive than his clumsier efforts. He walked back to his bed and turned the blue soldier around and around in his hand. But it wasn’t Christmas Eve any more. Santa Claus had come and gone, Rudolph was done flying and he’d watched the grumpy lawyer across the street burst out of his office and joyfully greet his poor legal assistant with a hug and dance. The magic was gone. But maybe the cookies still had some power to make him feel better, and in another day they’ll be stale.

He brings the candy up to his mouth and tastes peppermint strong enough to scrunch up his nose.

Tiny fingers suddenly dig into his palm as Wilbur’s voice screams in his head. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Tommy screams and drops Wilbur. The living candy lands on the blankets and sits up, clawing saliva from his impossibly fine hair.

“Was- was I in your mouth?! Tommy?!”

“I- You- You were a dream! I mean, what?”

“Don’t eat me!”

“Okay! Oh my god. How are you alive?”

“It’s midnight you idiot, and we’re Christmas magic. We come alive at midnight. And turn back into cookies at dawn. DO NOT EAT ME WHILE I’M A COOKIE.”

“Oh. I.” Tommy feels like his heart is simultaneously trying to lift into the air and hide under a rock. “Why didn’t you tell me that last night?”

“I DIDN’T THINK CANNIBALIZING US WOULD BE ON THE TABLE.” “YOU’RE A GOD-DAMNED GINGERBREAD MAN! How was I supposed to know you’d come back to life? I… I thought last night was a one time thing.”

Wilbur looked up at him for a long minute and Tommy did his best to shove down his stupid emotions. He didn’t want to cry in front of Wilbur. “I’m sorry.”

Wilbur sighed and rubbed his temples. “Alright. Okay. Just give me a minute.”

Tommy relaxed and then asked, “Did Philza and Techno come back too?”

---

When they walked back into the main area Techno and Philza were standing up and living.

“And what were you two nerds up to?” Techno asked in his typical monotone while Tommy fidgeted under the red hots stare. “Nothing.”

“He wanted to ask me a few questions.” Wilbur elaborated, much to his relief.

“Um, right. I guess we didn’t cover everything last night.” Phil stepped in, fluttering his feathers. “Did Wilbur answer all your questions?”

“Tonight you came back alive.” Tommy said awkwardly, “Are you… always going to do that?”

“Oh mate.” Philza fluttered over to him and Tommy abruptly had white chocolate and marshmallow hugging his face. “I’m sorry, we should’ve told you last night. We,” he gestured to Wilbur, Techno and himself, “are a Christmas miracle. We’ll come alive at midnight as long as you need us, to fulfill your wish.”

“What wish?” Tommy asked, and Philza’s smile softened. “With us around, you won’t be alone anymore.”

“Oh.” Tommy shuffled awkwardly closer to them and returned Wilbur. “What if I piss you off?”

“Then we’ll forgive you.” Phil said confidently.

“Maybe.” Wilbur added and Techno jabbed him in the ribs. “I forgive you. Really.” Wilbur amended, “But you’re on thin ice gremlin.”

“Thin ice for what?” Technoblade asked and Tommy flinched.

“Wilbur can fill us in later.” Philza interjected, landing back beside them and looking up at Tommy. “Do you have any other questions?”

“Um. I guess not. Besides how the power of-- What? Christmas cheer?-- can bring a cookie to life.”

Techno shrugged. “Ask the spirit of Christmas present. But good luck getting a straight answer.”

---

Next year finds Tommy working late at the bakery again, this time on a north pole theme, when ‘Dream’ appears again.

“So have you learned your lesson?”

Tommy looks up, glaring. He’d wondered if the creep would come again, but his newfound family hadn’t thought the chance was very high. Tommy just can’t get them to believe he’s the unluckiest person on earth.

“What lesson? Was there supposed to be a god damned lesson? You brought three cookies to life!” He huffed and crossed his arms and tried not to show his unease. There was just something unsettling about the spirit, something he doesn’t like. Beyond the fact Dream doesn’t breathe or blink. “My Christmas break turned into- like- a scramble to suddenly accommodate three tiny magical people in my shitty-ass apartment, you bitch!”

“Which was what you wanted.” Dream asserted, before stealing a candy cane off Santa’s sleigh and crunched off the crook.

“Yeah! Well…” Tommy scrounged for words, “You could have explained it better!”

“Nope.” Dream popped the P and took another bite.

“Whatever. What the hell do you want now?”

“I performed a Christmas miracle.” Dream said slowly, then stared at Tommy as he shoved the rest of the candy cane into his mouth and spent a full minute filling the air with the cracks and snaps of hardened sugar. Tommy stared back in suspicion until the spirit swallowed and added, “For you.”

“And?” Tommy asked. Dream glared.

“I didn’t have to. I had just handed a particularly idiot lawyer in a beanie to Sapnap when I looked across the street and saw this totally pathetic kid working late at a bakery on Christmas Eve-”

“Hey, I’m-” Tommy began but the spirit spoke over him.

“-Like the loneliest, most miserable teenager imaginable and thought to myself: ‘Wow. I really should-’”

“THANK YOU, OKAY?!” Tommy shouted louder, “Thank you for working your weird, mysterious Christmas powers. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“Yes.” Dream said, and vanished into thin air. “Also tell Techno I said hi.”

“Maybe I will!” Tommy called after the swirling puff of powdered sugar Dream left behind.

He groaned, and began packing up his station. It was almost midnight, after all.

#my stuff #my writing

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gumpistol · 4 months

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@melodysian requested an unhinged starter for uta

❝ bathroom bathroom, i gots to pee~ gotta sprinkle all my tinkle— ❞ the captain sits, taking care of business, with the bathroom door propped wide open, all while mindlessly staring off at nothing in particular. he's got an ever-permanent, content smile pressed into cheeks as he sings the little tune. but the poor, scratchy singing stops abruptly and luffy's face scrunches up in discomfort. the empty-headed smile quickly transforms to a look of absolute concentration.

❝ UTAAAAA!! ❞ the yell is startling as the young man's voice carries through corridors and to any ears that may hear. ❝ I NEED YOU TO COME SING TO ME OR I CAN'T POOP!!! ❞

#melodysian #melodysian | uta #❝ screw the plan ❞ — ic #❝ i’m going to become king of the pirates! ❞ — v: main #you said unhinged #i give you unhinged #also thank you so much for being patient on this #i really needed this to come to me #and yes i stole the first line from HQ #and yes a friend's brother made fun of me for asking writing research questions for this

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silkysnowflakes · 2 months

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Y/N X Jesus

`He goes down on me Hoping that I would give him what he desires. Little did he know, I dreamt of him touching a helpless bug like a shiny bitch. I really needed to have that kind of feeling for eternity. As I took a fat gulp of his sweat when he gagged on my toes, he growled and snarled at me. I really felt it touch the deepest part of my vajayjay. As he whispered the alphabet in my belly button, I shook in excitement. My teeth chattered against his pubes while he gripped my grippers reassuringly. Suddenly I peed on his keys and he was smirking at the flustered mess I had on tuesday. Then he jumped down onto my uterus aggressively, asserting his dominance.

”Kitten, don't make daddy horny” He whimpers, making babies out of tissue paper. He liked babies that squirt all over his massive schlong.

“Go down Jesus, I'm waiting for your babies to stop squirting.” I moaned.

“But I like babies that squirt all over my juicy meat grippers” He grunts as he stomps on the pool floaties i'm currently eating.

Pissing on the bench, I decided that Jesus wasn't meant to be my husbando, but we still have children and Michael Jackson's sexual fantasies. He groped my grippers when I moaned cutely Nya~. I slapped his Testes triumphantly with cockiness. Jesus ate my coochie like an apple, making me tinkle and sprinkle cutely. I really felt violated by his eyelashes. They were so long and thick, just enough to touch my deepest crevice of my ovaries. As he huffed and puffed and cuffed my tatas, making my hairs moist and slick, squishing my eyeballs. Then I farted so cutely.

“Damn shawty” Jesus said, “I want you to ligma testes”

He ate my sensitive little fingernail seductively with passion.

“Ouch,” Jesus exclaimed. “You hot caterpillar. I am penetrated by your kidneys”

I moaned softly in response. In the background, I could hear careless whispers playing as he merges into my scalp. My body is trembling as he's in my scalp and I flick his toes swedely.. “Want a break from the ads?” He whispers in my nostril, unsure if I can continue with his goofy ahh antics. Then we fucked til the witching hour on a sunday church service. He grunted sexily with frustration as he tried to pull shit out of my clit. Then he squirted silly string cutely with pleasure, indefinitely causing a seizure. His long schlong stabbed my liver as he convulsed the holy spirit out of me. Then, Jesus died. It only took three seconds for him to be resurrected. I sighed in annoyance and stabbed him to make sure he wouldn’t resurrect again. Then a bright light shone in my eyes, effectively blinding me.

“H-HOW!?” I screamed “You’re supposed to be dead!”

“You thought! Nerd.” Jesus said before taking out a belt and beating me with it.

“HARDER” I yelped. I could feel him holding back. Jesus wasn't beating me properly, and it was making me angry.

edit: YES I know it looks unfinishded but trust me do you REALLY want me to keep going?

#Jesus but not like Jesus #Thisoneisfortrishapaytas #I loOove you #Jesus #Smut #Hotcatipilar #Shit posting #Please do ask #Ask me anything #No im not in therapy

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rizaposting · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday- Plans for this year

The past week has been extremely hectic (had to take my mum to the hospital--she is home now and she is fine!) so I don't have much to show for WIPs this week either. So I figured I'd take some time to do a little breakdown of some of the works I have planned for this year :]

This will not be exhaustive, as I'm incredibly susceptible to coming up with ideas to chase at any moment, but hopefully some of these ideas sound fun!

The Biggies

Royai Big Bang 2024 Anthology piece- To be released October 3rd, 2024. This is my first time participating in any sort of fandom event, so I'm very excited! If you've seen my snippets of or heard me talking about my Riza Going Undercover As A Butch Honeypot story, that's this one!

(Currently) Unnamed 03Royai Project- I had wanted to get this started last year to celebrate FMA03's 20th anniversary but alas.... 2023 sucked for me. So my goal is to get it started and work on it through this year! It's going to be an exploration of 03Royai after the events of the anime, made up of three parts: them falling in love and the challenges faced after the anime, the events of CoS and immediately afterwards, and then the future thereafter. A bit of a fix-it of sorts, if you want to call it that? but more of a look into their mental states and codependence and me trying to draw other people into talking about fma03 with me. My baby.

Other Ideas

What if Dante had fixated on Riza instead of Rose?- Another 03 project! Kind of a silly idea but I love putting Riza in situations, especially when it makes Baddies get weirdly fixated on her. Maybe Dante thinks having Mustang in her pocket would be good. Maybe she has a thing for blondes.

Wrath bullying Riza when she's his assistant/hostage- Rescued from my drafts! A short oneshot I do not remember writing but liked very much when I went "which one was this again?" when I was going through my WIP folder the other day. Bradley making Riza feel bad for making Roy 'weak'.

PPD Riza- Another rescued draft I think I wrote originally at like 3am one night. A oneshot of Riza being forced to finally reckon with her childhood trauma while struggling with postpartum depression after the birth of her daughter. Roy supports her (because it's HER TURN to be cared for).

Lycanthropy as a metaphor for feminine rage- Riza werewolf AU. An excuse for her to get mad about all the injustices she's suffered at the hands of men and be covered in blood.

Is 2024 The Year I Finally Publish 'The Infamous Printer Fic'?- ........maybe...

I'm sure there are other ideas that will pop into my head suddenly! And maybe a couple of these fics listed will get shoved back into Draft Jail... Time will tell. My biggest priority for the next few months will be the Big Bang piece, and after that I will try pushing more for Unnamed 03Royai Project, with little things sprinkled in between. Dear God Dear God Tinkle Tinkle Hoy let me get more writing (and art) out this year!

#crystal convos #fic talk #wip wednesday

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helloliriels · 2 years

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fake fic titlesssss (sorry if these have been said before. might've picked them up from previous asks without knowing!)

The Honey Debacle

If We Could Fly

All new prompts here! Tysm!! 💕(sorry it took so long to answer!!)

So ... I had a bunch of stuff to post today (real stuff, continuation stuff ... 'Spin the Bottle' stuff, 'Payphone III' stuff ...) and I'm just a little overwhelmed still. I opted to clean my house and stare at the tv instead. Some days are overwhelming. So instead ... have more fake fic titles ...

... and tea! don't forget to grab a hot cup o' tea. and feel free to browse the shelves. nothing overwhelming here:

The Honey Debacle 🍯

"Sherlock?" John said, scooting closer, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Then wait to tell me," the detective turned away and folded himself into the couch in resolved ignorance.

"Sherlock?" John tried again, hand reaching out to nudge him a little. Sherlock often responded better to John's touch, than to his words ... "Sherlock, I've something I need to tell you ... ?"

Sherlock pulled away from the warmth of John's touch.

"Fine - how long do you want me to wait?"

"Forever."

Sherlock muttered the word into the couch cushion, knowing John could still hear him.

John could feel a building of tension in his friends form. An imperceptible sign of warning. John wasn't sure if they had changed his doses today? He looked over and saw the Red Balloon again. The John balloon ...

Oh.

"Sherlock ..." John tried again. Knowing Sherlock had missed him.

"John, I said don't-" Sherlock snarled, seeing John's hurt face and then deflating ... wanting to take it all back ...

"Sometimes forever is only a second, John," he said turning around.

"Thank you, Sherlock ..."

John took one more look at the balloon ...

... and then took a deep breath.

>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<

If We Could Fly 🪶

"Remember when we could fly, John?" Sherlock said, spinning a small bottle mindlessly between his long, slender fingers ...

"No. Don't remember flying, Sherlock?" John said, adjusting his spectacles and taking down more notes on the parchment paper before him.

"We could fly, John ... I didn't dream it," Sherlock was saying, very matter-of-fact.

"Didn't you?" John grabbed the small bottle from Sherlock's hand, and placed in on the table in a huff. Annoyed and irritated with the action as Sherlock sat watching him write.

"If I could only remember how ..." Sherlock was continuing with the thought, tapping away at his thigh. Even without the bottle in hand, he was not being the typical stationary companion, lost in thought ...

John picked up the bottle with the idea to hand it back. Hoping it would keep Sherlock from waving his arms around again, even if the twirling action had been distracting ...

But in handling the bottle - he saw how it sparkled the contents inside ...

He turned it over ... and over ... himself zoning out at the small action of watching it go 'round ...

It looked like glitter? Very fine. Ultra-fine ... he supposed it would have been labelled? If the bottle had a label? Which it did not.

It was a simple glass, more like sea glass. Imperfect and warped as if with age ... as he continued to turn it over in his hand, watching it sparkle ...

A small giggle echoed in his mind ...

Something that tinkled ... tittered, almost ... like small bells ...

"Tinkerbell," John whispered, half to himself.

Sherlock was startled when John abruptly stood up and lifted him also - a wild expression on his face!

"John?" he asked. Caution and curiosity sounding off alarms simultaneously ...

"If we could fly, Sherlock?!" John said, uncorking the bottle and spilling the contents out onto his hand. Sprinkling it over Sherlock's raven curls and dusting himself with it. His eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks rosy with heightened excitement!

Sherlock leaned in to place a small kiss on his cheek, adoring the way he gave himself up with boyish abandon. A small grin overtaking him as John's eyes opened and they wrapped their arms around each other for a real kiss this time.

When they pulled apart, John was laughing. Bubbling with joy ... just as they bonked their heads on something ...

The ceiling lamp!

Both John and Sherlock looked down at their sitting room below in 221b ... a far different angle than either of them had observed before. Namely ... from 12 ft high in the air!

"I remember!"

They both said in unison, and started laughing raucously! Kicking their legs out and flying around the room. Each adopting a different swim stroke to propel them!

Mrs. Hudson's soft footfall was not heard until she was in the doorway, giving a shout of surprise!

"Boys?!!" she stomped her foot, "John? Sherlock! You promised!!!"

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @whatnext2020 @ohlooktheresabee @totallysilvergirl @ephemeraljimin @eplapourdissant @kettykika78 @simplyclockwork @discordantwords @arwamachine @calaisreno @sherlockedcarmilla @shelleysprometheus @annecumberbatch @7-percent @chriscalledmesweetie @janetm74 @sgam76 @samtheskald @missdeliadili @raina-at @superhollykat @dissolvinggirl @summerfly-lesbian @pocketwatchofmycroft @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @glows-n-the-dark @sherlocksmindpalace @liquor-liquor-lips @ettuinarcadia @iamjustreading @peageetibbs @meetinginsamarra @marta-bee @loki-lock @geekinator @masterofhounds @justanobsessedpan @gaylilsherlock @timberva @musingsofmyown @hasenkind687 @liifafaa @pansherlock

#fake fic titles #ask games #liri answers #johnlock fanfic #sherlock fanfic #ideas #100% fake fics (or not so fake now!)#some are in the works ...#celebrating 100 works on ao3 #since 2020 #helloliriels

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