#omega cross/j | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whalesforhands · 7 months ago

Text

what’s yours is mine (1/?)

masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse, rating may change with every update.)

“Ito Saya, reporting in for your daily broadcast. In a noteworthy shift, Omegas are increasingly finding more employment opportunities in positions of power. With a positive trend towards reduced oppression of—“

You’re averse to this sort of thing. A folly, something you can barely care about as your eyes squint at big words floating around the screen, a pretty lady holding papers and looking all serious and… Boring. TV shows are supposed to be fun, supposed to be playing that anime you had been waiting all week to see, supposed to be… Interesting so that you can feel less alone.

You definitely don’t want some silly lady on the screen talking about— Those things that you can barely understand. Why do they always talk so much? A picture could probably end their entire long spiels in seconds.

Your nose scrunches, your fingers cupping your chin like those TV characters did when they were thinking really hard. So why don’t they just use pictures? They’re more colourful and tell you stuff faster, won’t they? It’s not your fault that the TV station people are always so inefficient.

(It’s the television’s fault isn’t it? Definitely, right? Mama always did tell you it was a little old.)

Or maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot of things.

You’re 4, staring up at the glowing screen of your all too old television, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor in this wide, wide room that was a little too empty for your liking. Your nose picks up on the scent of coffee, ears barely picking up on a clink of porcelain against a cheap wooden coaster. Mama circles things in newspapers, the gliding of her red marker against the sheet attracting your attention to the focused look in her eyes, the furrow of her brows, the way she just held that pen so elegantly…

(Your Mama is so much prettier than the lady on the TV.)

You like it when she’s focused like that, so serious-looking! This must be the pinnacle of a hard worker. Brains… And beety? Or whatever you heard some other old man on the TV used to cheer about.

So you decide you don’t wanna watch anymore, Getting up onto your small feet and barely catching yourself before you topple over, toddling over to your Mama with socks padding against the wooden floors.

You’re soon taking decisive peeks at your all too focused mother, watching over her shoulder in silence to let her focus. There should be a reason why she’s so serious, right?

Maybe it’s something fun? Something exciting? That’s why she’s so focused on it— right?

“J…Ob list…ings open…” Your eyes are narrowed, licking over your lips to wet them as you take another deep breath in. “Mini—um, ex-peer-i-sense?”

You can see the red marker coming to a halt, her sweet chuckle perhaps to humor you, to acknowledge your attempt. Patting your head when she turns her head around, and a smile upon her face as she smooths over the fabric of her skirt, as you feel yourself being lifted and plopped gently into the warm confines of her lap.

“That was a nice try, sweetie.” Her eyes meet yours when you take the decisive move to lean back, a ruffle of your hair and your quiet giggle as the short relief of her attention leaves you, though not without sating your curiosity. “Mama’s looking for a job.”

You know what that is. It’s for adults to make money, disappear for hours in a day and only come back super, super late at night.

(You think your father had one. Or… Did he really?)

And it means they spend all that time in a place nowhere close to their home or cute, adorable, obedient daughters either.

“Does that mean you can’t stay home with me anymore, Mama?” You’re still leaning back into her chest, staring up at her chin from your position as you bring yourself impossibly closer to her, the calm smell of vanilla and honey in your nostrils making you all warm and fuzzy, calm and happy.

(You always liked it when she smelled like this.)

“Maybe, sweetie.” She pulls away briefly to tap the end of the marker against your nose. “But Mama will be able to buy you more delicious food,” She pauses to smile so sweetly down at you, a pinch to your cheek. “And finally get you some toys.”

Toys. You realize that you don’t have any toys. At least— You couldn’t bring any of your toys with you when your mother had so urgently scooped you up into her arms in the dead of the night, a luggage rolling behind her as your nose picks up on an urgent, intruding scent of sour milk and rotting flowers, your senses spiked with uncertainty and fear as you soundlessly drink in the last sight of your old home for those few seconds before the darkness ate it all away.

You remember boarding 1 train, 2 trains, 3 trains… You lost count after that. Only simply remembering getting pulled along, Mama’s soft whispering and cooing promises that this is for the best, that your Papa won’t be able to follow you here, that you’ll be happier than ever. You remember her scent, less rigid, less frightened but still steeped in misplaced excitement. Like a fragrant scent of calm that beckoned you to follow and imitate.

You remember living in small apartments, tiny, squeezy and virtually no space. You remember how sickly, horridly sweet Mama’s scent was, caked in perfume when she rushes out every night for her job at the local izakaya. Her uniform always a little messed up in her haste before she leaves your dinner usually already in your hands as you slurp on ramen or eat another scoop of curry rice.

She would pat your head as you offer her a bite, giving you a smile before she tells you to be good, several locks clicking into place when she closes the door behind her.

It wasn’t much, wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had in your life, but it was comfortable. You were happy with that simple life with her. But one day, you heard jangling at the front door, you hear hurried, panicked movements, smell sour fear despite the thick odour of perfume as your Mama hurriedly slams the door shut behind her, cold sweat on her as she hugs you close, buries her face into your hair.

You don’t like it when she’s like this.

You remember a man with a scent so different from your father come knocking at your door for weeks on end, gradually changing from slow knocks to furious banging on the metal with a rough pleads begging that he won’t hurt your mother, that she was beautiful, the she was—

That’s how you ended up here now. It’s been at least a year since then. And only about a month since you moved in.

(You think. You’re not really good at telling time yet.)

“Mama, I don’t need toys.” It’s not like you don’t want them, you just don’t need them. A lesson taught to you by more pretty ladies on the TV screen, you’ve also stopped by many a toy store only to see too many zeroes on price tags, and it’s been steeled in your mind that you just don’t need them. Not when you have Mama to play together with now that she’s smiling so much more.

So you’re adamant on not wanting any.

“Is that so, darling?” You feel a mindless pinch to your cheek as she circles another paragraph of words. “Then how are you going to keep yourself from getting bored when I’m not around?”

Now that has you in a slight dilemma, your hands freezing in place from where they had been twirling with her hair. You blink once, and again when you quietly see her marker tap against the paper, as if awaiting your thoughts as your eyes start to dart all over the room.

(She makes really good points. Too good. As expected of your Mama.)

The television? No. Mama would tell you too much is bad for your eyes. The pillows you both use for your futons? No. You’ll probably dirty it and make more work for her. Your eyes silently trail over to the window, sun shining through the panes and onto the floor as a glowing thought arises.

“I can just play outside.”

——

Be careful what you wish for, as they say.

An amused chuckle from Mama as she pushes you towards the door, nimble fingers excitedly doing up the straps of your old sandals and arming you with a couple of handmade cookies, a pat on your head and parting words of;

“Don’t wander anywhere past the playground, don’t follow anyone strange, be back by sunset and make some friends.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that you’ll go play outside.

“Honey, I know it’s only been so long since we’ve moved here.” She’s clears her throat, a cloth being gently rubbed against your face to help get rid of any stray rice grains. “But,” She sucks in a breath, a rise and fall of her chest as you blink at her.

“Have you…” She has to take another breath in. Does she have breathing problems—

“Made any friends yet?”

Oh.

The answer is no. Your go-to counter being, ‘I don’t go outside, so how can I make any?’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you give her a smile.

(This isn’t something you’re meant to be proud of.)

And all she’ll give you is winced smile, ruffling your hair and saying that there was no rush. That you’ll get your chance. That you’re the sweetest kid there was. That she has faith in you and wants you to work hard!

But it’s not like it’s as easy as your capable mother makes it sound, and not like you wanted to be out here, anyway. You think the sun is too hot, that there aren’t enough clouds, that the wind isn’t picking up enough, the cicadas are too loud, that you need water—

And that you need to stop complaining so much.

You’re kicking at the path, a long stick in your hands poking at the ground beneath you, cookies pinched between your fingers as you wander and wonder. You can make friends. Surely, you can. That’s what the the cookies are for, right?

Other kids your age should love cookies. You sure do, and you’re Mama’s number 1 fan when it comes to her baking.

(Or her… Anything, really.)

So… You know her inside out, you swear you do. You love her, she loves you, she makes good food and she wants you to make friends, come back with no cookies and a new bond forged.

(Anyone would do, right?)

But you don’t see any kids, the playground you just arrived at deserted and empty. It looks sleek, almost as if it were brand new. Dark wood and galvanized steel, it was so… Clean. So untouched. Yet nobody was here? Your shoulders slump forwards in mild disappointment, yet your heart thrills at the thought of being able to have the whole place to yourself. Alone.

Well, choosers can’t be beggars… Or was it the other way around? Either way, it’s not like Mama would know if you ate them both yourself.

——

So you find yourself sat down comfortably within the top of the little hut housing the slide, your feet splayed out in front of you as you prepare to take a bite. You feel the straps of your sandals relax against your feet, a slight breeze picking up despite the shade you had hidden under. Perfect. This was perfect—

“Are those cookies?”

You can feel your shoulders jump in shock, fear pulling at your heartstrings and a startle nearly making you drop your precious dessert. So much for a peaceful time. You have to physically lurch yourself back before any harm was done to your food. Just who do they think they are? To just come up to you and—

A flurry of white snow and icicles of frost. But you’re pretty sure the summer heat is still beating down, the cicadas are still singing, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Yet the one before you defies all of that. He had an aura about him, a commanding curiosity. And he does definitely—

“Look weird.”

His eyes widen for just that fraction of a second, before he furrows his brows, the long sleeves of the firefly kimono swaying when he crosses his arms in rebuttal.

“You’re weirder.”

You blink maybe twice. Once in surprise, and the other to really blink back into reality. He must’ve heard your thoughts.

“I didn’t. Ya just said it out loud, weirdo.”

Oh. You have to say your sorries, then. Mama didn’t raise you to be rude.

“This is my playground.” Your eyes catch a glimmer of the wara zori his feet donned. They were too neat, too well put together. “Nobody else is allowed in.” His tone sounds so proper, his pronunciation so abnormally clear, especially for someone who looks your age.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that. Though to be fair, you don’t know a lot of things. “Sorry. I didn’t know playgrounds can be owned…”

“That’s only for poor people.” You hear the tap of his shoes against pressure treated wood. “If more people were like me, they’d have their own playgrounds too.”

“Oh. Sorry then.” You really are. You just thought playgrounds were a place for every kid…

“S’that all you can say?” You can see the shine of iridescent blue, making use of his standing height to belittle and threaten your sitting position. He makes himself look big, makes the glimmer in his eye turn into one of malice and impatience. It twists his features, turns them into something rugged and rough and uncomfortable.

And you think it’s such a waste of the cute face he has.

“Sorry.” To his Mama who gave him such a nice looking profile, and to him, you guess. You don’t really know if you should be apologizing, don’t really know if what you’re doing is right.

(But apologising has always worked. It felt right to you.)

And you think he’s satisfied now.

He harrumphs, unfolding his hands. “Some old lady put me on a sweets ban.” He settles down next to you, pushing you aside to make space for himself as he plops down, and you notice the shifting of the pretty blue fabric he donned matching perfectly with the crystal blue of his eyes. You notice the print quality being one so clear and vivid, despite the simple design. That’s a really nice kimono. “So I can’t eat anymore for the rest of the month.”

(He really is cute.)

“But since you’re trespassing on my playground,” He holds a dainty, porcelain hand out, a small twitch of his fingers that itch for your compliance. “I’m charging you cookies for it.” He’s smiling now. A proud, smug grin with the upturn of his eyes into crescents.

”It’s okay for me to eat ‘em cause it’s tax.”

He’s kind of irritating, but… Anyone would do, right?

You swallow the lump you weren’t aware of in your throat, the sweat that you didn’t know that was starting to form on your hand. You think you have an idea. A good one, at that.

“Okay,” You produce the other packaging. “But you have to promise to be my friend.”

Now it’s his turn to blink at you in utter confusion.

“Are you—“ His eyebrows furrow deeper than before, his smile dissipating into this confused frown. His eyes scrutinize and watch you closely, as if he was scouring your every breath, your every movement to uncover something that just wasn’t there.

“Being serious?”

Why… Wouldn’t you be? The way you just blink back at him, waiting on him to continue only to be met with glaring silence… Is there something on your face? Is there a bug you didn’t see crawling in your hair?

Or maybe he just wants the cookie.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hand is warm as they grip his wrist, gently dropping the wrinkled plastic onto his hand with a tilt of your head and eyes that flick up to meet his. It’s innocent, genuine, even. Frightfully so. The way you smile with nothing else, the way your intent was shown upon your very sleeve.

Nothing. He garners absolutely nothing from you. Your hands feel too warm, the chocolate chips within the cookie already look like they were melting, sweat is starting to stick your hair to your skin— And he thinks it doesn’t get anymore real than this.

“Okay.”

Oh, good. He agreed. You have a friend now, and it makes your heart squeeze with just that bit of excitement, of joy. It felt like you were swinging too high off the ground, felt like you were going to be swept off your feet.

It felt good. Maybe you should make more friends.

“Do the thing with me.” His pinky is held out, pushed into your face. “Ya gotta promise me something too. That’s how promises work.”

Is that how it works? You didn’t know that either.

“Yeah.” It isn’t. “That’s how it works here, you dunno that cause you’re new.”

Well… Okay then. “What’s the promise?”

You see his lips curl up, his eyes sparkling with something unknown as you begin to stick your own pinky out. “You’re already my friend, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” There’s a smugness to his face now. “So you can’t be friends with other kids from this neighbourhood. That’s betrayal to me.”

You catch a whiff of something spicy, hot. As if it were burning you to the very edges of your body— Before it disappears completely, as if it were never there. He makes sense, to you at least, and it sounds… Fair enough, you guess.

Your pinky wraps tight around his, in spite of how foreboding and suffocating his hold feels. Your nose picks up on the scent of fabric cleaner, the scent of summer weighing heavy on your nose in this moment. You see blue and white, see oranges and pink light starting to envelop his hand from where the sun had begun to set, making his hand glow as your promise becomes sealed in this very moment forward.

“Hey,” His eyes still don’t leave the way your fingers were intertwined with each other. “Which house do you live in?”

(“I’m forgiven for coming in here without permission, right?” Your hands are stained with sticky chocolate that you’re trying to dab off with your dry handkerchief, bits of crumbs littering your lips.

“Ya can come here whenever you want now.” He wipes the remnants of soft biscuit and gooey chocolate off with a dismissive sleeve.

“That’s such a waste of a pretty kimono…”)

——

Even when your pinkies have lost their binding to each other, you still find his hand holding onto yours, adamant on them being intertwined as he huffs in annoyance at your stare.

“I’m only leadin’ ya back cause I wanna see your house.”

You give him that owlish stare again. The blank one that looks like you don’t have a thought passing through your head at all. “Okay,” You smile again.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

It’s a dismissive question, one that had only just occurred to you. You’re far more interested in watching the way the sun casted your shadows together on the concrete pavement, how your silhouettes gave you a sense of weird unity. Having a friend feels really nice, you think.

You take a glance at him when he takes too long to reply, catching an icy cold gaze that contrasted the warmth of your hands conjoined.

“You first.” Well, if he insists, you guess. It’s just your name.

“(last name) (name).” You’re pretty sure you got the pronunciation right.

“Gojo… Satoru.” You can hear him hold his breath as his name leaves his lips, his voice ever steady and confident, though with a tinge of hesitance. As if he expects something, as if he wants it to be over and done with.

It never comes. Only a confused tilt of your head as you keep staring at him like he was the crazy one in this situation.

And you can see his face change into one of disbelief, one that barely tilts over the edge of what you can only describe as ‘shocked relief’. Maybe he is as weird as he looks. Does he have some sort of weird complex? You can swear you’ve heard about it on TV before. Or maybe he just has really bad comedic timing? You can at least compliment him.

“You’re funny, Satoru-san.” Because he’s genuinely making you smile now.

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my name.”

“Oh.” You thought friends were allowed to be on first name basis immediately. Were you wrong about friendships afterall? You stare at the ground for a little longer than needed as punishment for yourself, “Sorry, Gojo-s—“

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my last name either.” His hand squeezes yours ever tighter in small retaliation, his face turned away from yours to hide the way he was starting to grow red with rapid embarrassment.

(You can still see the tips of his ears burning red.)

Now you’re just confused. A scratch of your head as you try to think a little bit harder.

“…do I just call you friend, then?” And you can hear him stifle a snort.

“You’re really weird.” He squeezes your palm again. “Lose the honourifics, weirdo.”

(“So, Gojo…?” You test the waters again. You see his eyes stare off to the side in thought for just that one moment before they flick back to meet your gaze.

“Satoru.”)

“My house is that one,” Your small fingers point towards the horizon, a quaint, unassuming home coming into sight. “You have to walk 3 houses down from the playground.”

You stop before the front. Trying to loosen your grip only to feel his hand tighten significantly around yours.

“Satoru.” You call his name when he’s seemingly lost in thought, his eyes staring blankly at your humble home. It almost looked as if he hasn’t seen one before. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh.” Is he copying you now?

“Don’t you need to go back home? Your Mama would be mad if you’re late, wouldn’t she?” You probe a little more in efforts to snap him out of his trance, poking at his squishy face to get his attention.

But to no avail.

He doesn’t say anything, his head only turning to the side to stare you straight in the eye as you await. You see how pinks and blues are practically reflecting off of those crystalline optics, the sky reflected in them as they shine with a certain warmth.

“Can I come by tomorrow?”

——

A small knock at your front door early into the morning, when the sun had barely risen and the skies were still painted in shades of night blue.

To be specific, it was 6:00 AM. Your Mama was startled as she sipped coffee in the kitchen, you hear her shuffling downstairs, hear the clatter of the very few kitchenware you had as you begin to stir from your sleep, your brain flaring into overdrive as you try to sniff out the air— Trying to capture whiffs of that rancid scent that you hate so much—

Nothing. Nothing but the growing smell of rotting flowers that sends jitters down your spine. It worries you, sends you into a panic as you practically trip over yourself to run downstairs, disregarding any of the instructions of hiding away in the closet like your Mama had taught you beforehand. You have to check— Have to see if she’s okay—

The door is already open.

“Is (name) home?” He’s the first to talk, eyes flicking back and forth between the slightly open door and the dim light from within your home and your sleepy mother.

Mama only blinks down at him, her phone on speed-dial to the police releasing its tense grip as her shoulders visibly slump forward. Her scent calming from the initial flare up as she opens the door just that little more to allow her full view of Gojo Satoru standing before your home accompanied solely by a pretty lady dressed in a simple kimono.

“Yes… She is—“

“Good morning, (last name)-sama.” A low bow that takes your mother by surprise. “Our young master has scheduled a playdate with your daughter for today.”

“I— Um, heard, yes. But I certainly didn’t expect it to be this early—“ Your Mama shifts in place a little uncomfortably, taking note of how the sun had yet to rise, how the street lamps were still alight.

“We apologize for the disturbance.” The servant girl swoops down into another polite bow, head low and hands holding out a neatly wrapped gift before her. “These are snacks to show our gratitude for hosting this event. Young Master Gojo was looking forward to this arrangement, and had made preparations to come as early as possible.”

What an… Interesting child.

“As I am not allowed to accompany him inside due to his request, please also take this number with you, (last name)-sama. Do not hesitate to call us if anything arises. I will arrive to pick him up when he wishes to go.”

“Ah, um… Thank you…” The box feels heavy in your Mama’s hands as you tug on her pajamas from behind, peeking out slightly once you hear the door close.

“Gojo-kun… Was it?” She has to blink a few times to really get a good look at the snowy-haired boy.

“How did you say your friend looked again?” She’s picking up a dumpling with her chopsticks, gently laying the food onto your plate as you continue to chew in humming delight.

Your training chopsticks are clacking against each other as you smile up at her, all toothy grin and happy glow.

“He’s really cute.”

She figures it checks out, the doll-like, porcelain features of his face, the shiny blue eyes and his silky looking hair. He doesn’t say anything, furrowed brows and curiosity in his eyes as he scrutinizes her too, the air starting to still just that little bit when he nods at her in greeting.

As if he was acknowledging her… And as if he didn’t know how else to react.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She leans down to shake his hand, noticing the softness of his skin, the grip of his hand. “And thank you for the gift.”

You pop out from hiding behind your Mama’s legs, blinking at how his clothing had switched from the pretty kimono yesterday— To a simple shirt and shorts.

“Satoru.” You smile only slightly, your voice dimmed with the raspiness of just waking up, waving your hand in greeting. “You’re not wearing your pretty clothes anymore.”

Mama watches, watches how his gaze had been fixated on you the moment you appeared, how he’s waiting—

“I’ll leave you both to it, then.” A ruffle of your hair as you let out a quiet giggle. “Make sure to wash up and brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

And when she’s out of sight, her footsteps disappearing down the hallway— He starts to speak more.

“Your house is tiny.” Small. Inferior. Almost unlivable. He swears he’s seen servant quarters bigger than this as he kicks his sneakers off by the genkan, dusting himself of imaginary dust as he climbs up the step, his hand somehow finding yours with almost scary accuracy.

Is it? You always felt that it was too big. Always having too much space that you didn’t know what to do with.

“I think it’s nice.” You can feel yourself squeezing his palm with gentle self-assurance, leading him up the stairs and into the bedroom where your futon still laid upon the ground messily.

He sees darkness, hears the soft pads of your socks against tatami mats. Smells the faintest scent of honey within this room.

He stares. Silently, quietly. At the hadakake of your futon, at the thinner blanket that your Mama had taken out to deal with the sweltering heat of summer, at the overall state of the room.

“Are you poor?” You blink at him when he lays down next to you on his side, the softness of the bedding making your body feel heavy and sleepy, feeling a bit too lazy to want to keep the comfy sheets away.

“No.” Your whisper is quiet, soft. As if you were slowly fading away into sleep. “I have enough.” And he knows you’re telling the truth when you just give him a sleepy smile, a yawn escaping your lips as you cuddle against your pillow, eyes losing focus and turning the sight of your friend into a bleary blue and white.

”So I’m happy with just this.”

And he thinks you’ve really gone crazy.

“Good morning, Satoru…” Because you’re pretty sure you have yet to say it, as weird as it is when you’re in the midst of falling asleep.

“…morning.”

He’s fun to be around.

——

A couple weeks have passed, the same days of Satoru coming around to knock at your door too early in the morning, your sleep-deprived Mama getting the door and letting him in—

Only to end with both you and him sleeping in on your futon until early afternoon, when you both awaken only to play… Whatever, really. The playground, drawing at home, building pillow forts…

Mama tells you she doesn’t mind if he wants to come over, doesn’t mind if Satoru wants to play with you so often when she’s off to work. She tells you what really matters is what you want, that its up to you if you want him to come over this often, that it’s your choice to play with him.

(Mama described him once as ‘clingy’. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s good. You have a friend. Your only friend.)

So you told him to only come once every 2 days, that you think too much interaction may ruin your alone time with Mama… Only to be met with a pout and eyes that teetered almost on watery even as you pat his head and apologise.

He still listened to you, though. Despite the glare to the side and the very evident pout on his face everytime he realises he doesn’t get to see you the next day—

Though, as of recently, Satoru had been the last thing on your mind. Your eyes taking interest in and stuck onto the house next door instead. It’s always been empty, more barren than your own. But it’s gotten ‘renovated’ as your Mama said, the walls losing their dull shade and obtaining a new shine, the boarded windows replaced with shiny, clear glass.

It looked really nice.

“Stop staring at the ugly house and look at me insteaddddddd!” Ever selfish, ever vying and whining for you to give him your undivided attention.

“(nameeeeeeeeeeee).”

“It’s not ugly, though.” You think it looks quaint, looks prettier than your own. “It looks pretty.” You’re curious what kind of people are gonna live there. Are they gonna be an old couple like how Satoru always claims? Maybe it’ll be a nice middle aged lady who likes to share her pickled vegetable dishes?

You just hope they’re nice.

“How much do you think it costs to rent-uh-vate?” Your stare is still pointed at the house next door, your window directly facing one of their rooms as you stare with curious intensity.

He narrows his eyes at the view of the empty rooms, the windows that still lacked curtains and the blank white of their freshly painted walls.

“Not much, I’m pretty sure.”

Probably not much in his terms, anyway.

“Mama said she thinks they’re gonna move in today.”

“Really? Then let’s watch ‘em later then.” He lets out a huff as he rolls around your floor, watching you settle down cross-legged next to him as he makes a grab for you. “I don’t wanna play at the playground t��day.”

“Oh. Okay then, let’s play the cards you brought then—“ Your words die on your lips, body reeling back to the window at the telltale beep of a horn, the loud rumbling of a truck starting to pull into the street just mere meters away from you.

And that has the both of you clambering up to the window, his hand holding yours to ensure you don’t fall as you both squeeze to stand on the same stool, hands pressed up against the glass as your cheeks squish against each other in hopes of getting a view of what these people will look like.

“If it’s not an old couple, can we play on the swing today?”

“Y’er on.”

Your eyes watch the dark blue Toyota pull in close behind, your heart starting to race in palpitating beats that make you think you’re gonna be sick.

“Looks cheap.” Satoru’s still as snarky as ever.

The passenger door swings open, mesmerizing you with the sight of someone new, someone unfamiliar; a stranger that you’ve never seen before. Your gaze is stuck, unable to leave the features that capture your mind first—

Black hair and purple eyes.

masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

472 notes · View notes

wordy-little-witch · 5 months ago

Text

Omegaverse content but adding in the seraphim and Omega Buggy content

• Buggy probably wouldn't really like. Broadcast to the world that he's an Omega. I genuinely believe the Roger pirates and other previous era crews were semi old fashioned insofar as Omegas Are To Be Protected, a sort of Don't Ask Don't Tell type of deal. It was never a shameful thing but a safety thing, and if you were secure with your crew, it was fine. But it's a Need To Know Basis and based on personal discretion. Buggy, as the youngest on board, was the baby on top of being the only Omega so the protective urges were compounded.

• some in Buggy's crew knows, I think. He's very adamant that you do what makes you happy but you do NOT judge another for things beyond their control. Any primary and any secondary is welcome with open arms and intercrew relationships are fine so long as everyone keeps it from impacting the crew by and large in anegative way. He doesn't give a single flying fuck. But that said, he also doesn't have a large scale Secret Reveal. His closest people know bc he just vibes on a need to know basis.

• Mohji and Cabaji are Betas, and Alvida is an Alpha. While Buggy's Heats are essentially like menstrual cycles, he also gets slightly needier - it manifests as his temper being shorter, his tears coming quicker, and he's constantly On Edge. He demands SNUGGLES and AFFECTION /j ((honestly he almost never asks for it, but they offer it regardless. While pheromones are slightly lighter in Betas, Cab and Moh are His Pack and Alvida joins the Pack too, so between the three of them, he just kinda goes boneless. It's prime real estate for a lion to snuggle into, too. Win-win))

• When the cross guild starts rolling, Buggy absolutely does not offer information on his Secondary. Mihawk and Croc are both private people as well so they never ask or offer their own. Tensions are high for a while before everyone starts warming up and settling down

• everyone has hit Friendly Status ((pining stage 1)), when the seraphim show up. Rumors start absolutely FLYING because the Big Three are basically co-parenting these kids. Someone makes a remark that "captain Buggy must have blessed Sir Crocodile and Hawkeyes with children to deepen their ties", and it spreads like wild fire. Nobody ever mentions the logistics of it, because what is logic when you worship your clown god.

• S-Hawk (Birdie but open to options ig) and S-Croc (name pending but I like Angel for some reason) overhear it and go "oh papa and father and so of course Buggy must be mama".((Bonus points for cute kid logic of "you read us stories and moms in the stories do this, and you do that so obviously you're our mom"))

• Crocodile and Mihawk, while Angry (read: flustered) at first, eventually warm up to the idea and even begin seeing Buggy in a better light (pining, stage 2). It's a dramatic hot mess. Bets are being placed on the wedding date.

• Buggy actually eventually feels comfortable enough with them that he doesn't feel like he has to hide 24/7/365. So he winds up casually coming out to them, in a manner of speaking, for a stealth thing. They're trying to acquire backers, they're planning on the best method for infiltration, and Mihawk mentions off hand how majority for this sheltered branch of nobility only acknowledge Alpha and Omega couples. Croc just sighs, because his own scent could rarely be mistaken for an Omega, let alone Mihawk, and they don't want to leave it up to just any other person who happens to smell nice enough to pass and-

Buggy just arches a brow. "So I'll just go with one of you. I can Chop my nose, use a prosthetic. It's uncomfortable, but I've done it before."

"Clown what part of "an A-O couple is required" did you not comprehend-?"

"No, I got it all. You and Hawky are both Alphas. You need an Omega who can play the part. I'm right here, dude."

"An omega."

"Yep."

"You?"

"Uh-huh."

"....."

"............"

"Croccy? ...... Hawky....? OhMySeaseAreYouBreathing-?!"

• anyway they do go undercover and Croc and Hawk play rock paper scissors to be Buggy's "husband". Mihawk then threatens to remove Croc's other hand in retribution when he lost. He won't do it, but let it he known it was definitely said.

• the kids btw ADORE Buggy. And Buggy loves them!!! Both the seraphim and other kids. And the kids at the locatipm of the undercover mission. Croc almost chokes on his cigar when he catches a glimpse of Buggy giggling with a noble lady and holding a baby in one arm while cooing over another with the other Omegas.

That's all I have rn ily baaiiii

#buggy the clown #omega buggy #cross guild polycule #buggy headcanons #one piece #abo one piece #abo dynamics

83 notes · View notes

trashytoastboi · 5 months ago

Text

🧶Donquixote Doflamingo Masterlist🧶

🧶 Fluff Alphabet: Crocodile, Doflamingo – B, J

🧶 Headcanons – Stripper AU! Doflamingo, Shanks, Katakuri with F! Reader

🧶 Headcanons: Sanji, Doflamingo – Realizing they like a guy.

🧶 Headcanons: Modern AU! Doflamingo and Rosinante

🧶 Headcanons: X-Drake, Sanji, Doflamingo – Reacting to a guy who is actually a cross-dressing woman

🧶 Headcanons: X-Drake, Smoker, Doflamingo, Katakuri reacting to discovering their S/O is a sea dragon

🧶 Headcanons: Yandere Doflamingo

🧶 Scenario: Doflamingo fighting with his F! S/O

🧶 Short Scenario: Doflamingo x F! S/O - #6. Possessiveness

🧶 NSFW Headcanons: Doflamingo, Crocodile, Law, Smoker - #26. Aphrodisiac

🧶 Short scenarios: X-Drake, Doflamingo x Short! F! S/O

🧶 Headcanons: Doflamingo, Crocodile, Mihawk - #16. Don’t give me space, that’s the last thing I want from you.

🧶 Scenario: Doflamingo x F! S/O - #9. Taking care of you when you’re sick

🧶 Headcanons: SFW and NSFW – Crocodile, Doflamingo x Tall! S/O

🧶 Headcanons: Smoker, Aokiji, X-Drake, Doflamingo discovering their S/O is a nine tailed fox

🧶 Headcanons: Pregnancy and parental - Doflamingo, Lucci with their wife

🧶 Headcanons: Doflamingo, Crocodile, Blackbeard meeting a F! Keyblade Wielder

🧶 Headcanons: Rosinante (Corazon) and Law planning to prank Doflamingo

🧶 Headcanons: Luffy, Smoker, Doflamingo, Law – Meeting young Xehanort (Kingdom Hearts)

🧶 NSFW Scenario: Law x F! S/O x Doflamingo – Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

🧶 Headcanons: Sabo, Hawkins, Doflamingo, Law x S/O that likes Junji Ito Manga

🧶 Headcanons: Doflamingo, Corazon, Law, Kid x S/O who was “killed” by the World Government

🧶 NSFW Headcanons: Doflamingo, Paulie, Franky

🧶 Headcanons: Lucci, Doflamingo, Smoker finding themselves handcuffed to a Male! Straw-Hat reader that they have an interest in, even though they’re enemies

🧶 Headcanons: Alpha! Crocodile, Alpha! Doflamingo, Alpha!Kid x Male! Short! Omega who feels insecure – #1. Your scent is intoxicating

🧶 Headcanons: Doflamingo, Law, Smoker x Blind! S/O that wants to know what they look like by feeling their face

#trashytoastboi #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #character masterlist #masterlist #fluff #sfw #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #one piece headcanon #female reader #male reader #unholy toast #doflamingo x reader #that big pink bird man

61 notes · View notes

kittenofdoomage · 1 year ago

Text

More in the bottom!

Error: Now, I WILL CONTROL THE OMEGA TIMELINE, AND EVERYONE WILL BE ABLE TO WATCH Splatoon 3 let's plays BY ERROR!!! *Error strings Ink* Error: NOW GET IN THE FUCKING PORTAL!! Ink: Kill me error DO IT!! You won't! I have no reason to have emotions now that Sans is gone and my piss vial soul. Error: I'M GONNA MAKE YOU WATCH MY TIK-TOK COMPILATION, AND I'M GONNA MAKE YOU PERISH, YOU STALKER! Ink: I WILL NEVER WATCH YOUR COMPILATION BECAUSE THEY SUCK!!!! You picked all the bad tik-toks! Blue: I'm just gonna stay in the corner and watch j-just don't kidnap my soul Error: MY DORITOS!! I'M TAKING THEM BACK!! Ink: GIVE ME THOESE DORITOS NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM! Error: I'M GONNA KILL YOU!! NO!!!! Ink: Their my Doritos now error! Error (About to die and this line is funny): INK LISTEN TO ME, I KNOW WHO YOUR FATHER IS! (Coughs as ink hits him with his brush) Ink (Yelling at Error): DON'T YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME!!!

*Meanwhile* Cross: Am I in Halo?

#BIGGEST INCORRECT QUOTES I DID!#Snapcube #sonic fandub #sans au #undertale multiverse #incoreect quotes #error sans #ink sans #sans #fell sans #swap sans #blueberry sans #cross sans

14 notes · View notes

cherrio-krispz · 1 year ago

Note

Omega did NOT appreciate that response-

Was going to reply with a drawing but my ipad keeps on dying

Just know he’d be aggressive while hiding behind Dire

#☠️#all bark no bite/j #alpha cross #omega cross #omega!cross #not my art #cross sans #fandomsoda

23 notes · View notes

pinetree-tbb · 2 months ago

Text

"Precautioned Recording"

Something I came up with while having some alone time at work. I thought about panic attacks, what happenes, what the person goes through and ways to help.

I recently became addicted to The Magnus Archives and Protocol and it gave me the idea to write it like a script ( also because I plan to do a comic or animate it some day )

( TMA is a Podcast distributed by Rusty Quill, a really good Horror Podcast written by Jonathan Sims and directed by Alexander J Newall, if you like horror and good story telling I can only recommend listening to it! )

So, this is taking place in S3 Ep7. The Batch and the others are in the tunnels to flee, and I thought, what if the encounter with the CX-1 trooper triggered something in Crosshair wich resulted in a panic attack later.

I'm gonna cut it into parts tho, and thx to my ori'vod for helping me naming this <3

So yeah, hold your tissiues ready and enjoy part one :D

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Hunter Tech Wrecker Crosshair Echo Omega Other

- in the tunnels -

[ slightly shaking, trying to hide it ]

[ Batcher whines quietly at Cross ]

[ notices too, moves to put a hand on his shoulder but is interrupted by Howzer stepping between them ]

Alright! [ shoves him back, ripping Crosshair's helmet off of his head ]

Hey!

[ drops rifle, backs of scared ]

Howzer! ( Rex )

What did he ment by asking you?! What are you not telling us?! [ Howzer pushes Crosshair against the wall ]

[ grunts by the impact with the wall ]

[ Batcher barks outraged ]

Spit it out!!! ( Howzer )

[ breathes heavily, pressing his eyes shut ]

Hey!! [ grabs Howzer by the collar of his back and picks him up ] Back. Off!! [ let's him down, shoves him away, put's himself infront of Cross ]

It's all his fault! He's feeding them information! ( Howzer )

No! No he's not! He changed! [ stepps up beside Wrecker ] He's on our side!

Oh yeah? Then how- (Howzer)

[ voices seem muffled like being underwater breathes heavily, pressed up against the wall, a hand on his chest, trying to calm himself. flashes of Tantiss come up, the torture, the pain, the cold... the lonely, whimperes ]

-Huh? Why that?! Enlighten me! ( Howzer )

He did nothing! It's not his fault!!

Back off Howzer! You have no idea what you are talking about! [ stepps up beside Omega ]

He's a traitor! [ points at Crosshair ]

[ lifts arm up to shield Cross more and hide him behind him ]

[ can't seem to calm down, begins to panic ]

[ looks at Crosshair worried ]

[ Batcher growles at Howzer ]

[ voices still muffled, hears blood rushing and his heart pounding in his ears, breathing becomes hoarse ]

Everyone stand down! ( Rex )

[ can't take it anymore, runs off, just wanting to get away ]

[ Batcher runs after ]

Crosshair? Crosshair! [ wants to go after too ]

[ holds her back ] Let him go.

Running off to feed them new informations huh?! ( Howzer )

[ shoves Howzer back ] Listen here! You don't know anything about him, nor what he's been through! So back the hell off, now!!

[ Howzer steps back intimidated ]

Now. [ steps up to Omega, opening her backpack, shuffles through it ] I'm going after him and bring him back so we can finally get out of here.

[ quietly ] What's with him?

[ sights ] He's having a panic attack. [ pulls out Tech's datapad ] Wait here. [ picks up Crosshair's helmet, runns off ]

[ put's a hand on Omega's shoulder ]

[ everyone looks after Hunter running after Crosshair ]

[ runs down the tunnel, stumbles and falls, groaning by the impact with the ground, gets up again and keeps running ]

[ Batcher trotting beside him, looking up at him ]

[ falls again, panting, crawls to the side, presses himself in a gap in the wall, head in his hands, balls up ]

[ Batcher whines ]

[ runs down the hall, falling into a jog after seeing Batcher in the distance ]

[ Batcher looks up at Hunter after he comes closer to them ]

[ calmly ] Crosshair?

[ whimperes ]

Crosshair it's okay [ kneeles down ]

[ still whimpering and gasping ]

[ types through datapad ] You're gonna be okay Crosshair...

[ sobbs slightly ]

[ finds wanted record ] Here, just listen, okay? [ presses play, hold's datapad up infront of him ]

#the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb echo #clone force 99 #tbb #my writing #fic writing #tma podcast

12 notes · View notes

seigephoenix · 29 days ago

Text

Kinktober 2024: Spanking

Not your typical spanking prompt. I did enjoy writing it. Marlowe is just too sassy. A blend of Paragon and Renegade.

Ship: Marlowe Shepard x Zaeed Massani Content Warning: p in v sex, sassy, bratty, slight blasphemy for any practicing Christians reading, against the wall, spanking Length: 2.5k

Marlowe sat with her legs crossed under her on the couch in her cabin, digging through some more purchases she’d gotten at the Citadel. She’d never had much impulse control when it came to shopping, mostly due to not having access to shops. On ships she mostly had to deal with the quartermaster and they rarely sold anything besides the basics. Marlowe held up the silky nightgown in front of her. She’d tried to get comfortable wearing them, ever since that night Zaeed had visited her. He hadn’t paid her another visit, not that she was bitter or anything about that, but she had felt good wearing the lingerie after that. Marlowe expanded her collection a bit and only wore it when they were not out on a mission. Though… She did remember him saying something about losing his mind if she ever wore them on a mission.

On Omega

“We’re shooting around the slums again? Why’re we after the batarians this time?” Zaeed asked as he and Miranda accompanied Marlowe to the mission. Miranda blew out an aggravated breath.

“There are concerns the batarians or vorcha are tampering with the air quality. Aria suggested we investigate it,” she reminded Zaeed as they moved through the cramped corridors. They’d come across the plant and took out the batarians but not without Marlowe getting shot. This one got through her shields but she didn’t let Miranda or Zaeed get too close to see how bad it was. They had to keep moving forward. Marlowe tripped and stumbled as they pushed through the last wave of batarians.

“Shepard!” Miranda yelled. “Cover me Massani!” She whirled and slid behind Marlowe’s cover as she ran a hand over her to see where the damage was. “Shepard…” Her fingers came away wet with blood.

“Sorry, I did hit it with some medigel but I guess it reopened.” Marlowe clenched her jaw against the sharp throb of pain. “I’ll get Chakwas to look at it when we get back to the ship. We have to get through this,” Marlowe said and Miranda sighed. Marlowe hissed and cursed when the other woman slapped medigel over the wound.

“You deserved that one. Don’t ruin all that hard work just yet Shepard.” Miranda dashed back towards another barricade and helped Zaeed return fire. Marlowe tossed out her little turret and that took care of the last stragglers choking up the air filtration plant. Marlowe leaned back against the barricade with a weary sigh as Miranda finished the clean up. She closed her eyes and grunted when she felt a boot nudge her.

“I’m not dead, yet.” She opened one eye and saw Zaeed standing there looking pissed off. “What did I do now? I know why Miranda’s pissed at me.” Marlowe grumbled as she braced her arm on the barricade and shoved to her feet. She wouldn’t dare show any weakness and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from wobbling. “Let’s get back to the Normandy,” she said as she brushed past Zaeed without looking at him.

Normandy

Marlowe tossed her helmet into her locker by the airlock before peeling off the rest of her armor. Miranda pointed towards the elevator and Marlowe held up her hands as she agreed to see the doctor. Zaeed was watching the interaction carefully with his own helmet held in his hands. He headed in the direction of Shepard’s quarters.

Twenty minutes later, Marlowe walked into her cabin still rubbing her ear. Chakwas had chewed her left and right for the reckless injury. Marlowe had changed into her casual clothes after that under armor suit had been declared unfit and tossed into the incinerator. Marlowe huffed at the memory and looked over as she spotted movement by her couch.

“Massani.”

“Shepard.”

Marlowe let out a sigh as she walked towards her desk, just because she’d been shot didn’t mean the reports could be put off. “What are you doing in my cabin? Do you have something else you need?” Marlowe asked without looking up from the data pad. She was sore, tired, and wanted to get into her bed and sleep into the next century. She looked up when he didn’t answer, she’d expected a lecture or something. “Zaeed?”

“Come here Shepard.” Marlowe gave him a sideways glare for his tone but set the data pad down and ambled over to him. She crossed her arms, drawing his attention to the stark white bandage covering her shoulder. He reached out and grasped her wrist.

“Hey!” Marlowe barely had time to protest before he tugged and she wound up sprawled across his lap. She placed one hand on the floor to give herself some leverage before she pushed up, but he pushed down on her lower back. “What the hell is wrong with you Massani!? You’d better let me up!” Marlowe snarled as she braced her feet. She yelped when he kicked her feet out from under her and she landed hard across his thighs. “If you reopen this wound, I’m pointing Chakwas and Lawson your way.” Marlowe glared at him from where she was.

“Seems like you’re not in a position to really do anything are you Shepard?” Zaeed asked. He splayed his fingers out over her lower back, keeping her in place. She clenched her jaw but he wasn’t budging. All that N7 training and Spectre training… Ugh! Marlowe’s eyes darted up to him. “If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man, but you’re not going anywhere Shepard. Not yet anyway.”

“What the hell is your problem Massani? What? Gonna spank me like a kid? Fuck off,” Marlowe snapped before yelping when his hand cracked against her ass through the cargo pants. Silence stretched between them and Zaeed questioned if he’d gone too far, he’d only wanted to teach her a lesson. “Smack me like that one more time, and I’ll bench you the rest of this mission.” Marlowe promised him as she looked back over her shoulder at him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Shepard,” Zaeed retorted bringing his hand down for another slap over her pants. She began to struggle in earnest but he kept his hand right against her lower back.

“If you don’t let me up right now Massani, you’d better not ever let me up.” The sinister tone had his cock reacting. She looked over at his lap before back up at his face with shock replacing her anger. “Really!?” Marlowe shouted as she felt him straining against her side. “Getting off on me threatening you?”

“No.” She hissed when a third slap stung her ass cheeks. She could ignore bullet wounds, she’d handled insults being thrown right at her face, but what she could not handle was being treated like a child.

“Massani… One last chance. Let me go and I’ll still play.” Marlowe was cut off from her sentence when he simply yanked her pants down. “You asshole!”

“Fucking hell Shepard, were you wearing these on the mission today?” Zaeed demanded as the black silk was revealed. She was wearing the skimpiest pair of black silk panties, with the silk barely clinging to the dusky pink globes of her ass. She flipped him off from her position and his eyes narrowed.

“Had the matching bra too, but that got shot to hell by the batarians,” Marlowe snapped as she struggled once again to get free. This time his hand slapped bare skin and she flinched at the pain. “Massani.” Marlowe glared over her shoulder at him as her hair had come out of its serviceable bun. The length draped over her shoulder with the ends brushing the floor.

“How long is your hair Shepard?” He reached for it letting the dark purple strands flow over his fingers. Marlowe’s lip curled back in aggravation when he hooked one finger underneath the silk and tugged. She slapped a hand over her mouth at the moan that wanted to escape. The silk rubbed against her clit just right and her thighs squeezed together. “I heard that.”

“You didn’t hear shit, old man.” Marlowe snapped and tried to gain her footing again, only for him to knock them out from under her again. “You are getting on my nerves.”

“Good.” She yelped when his hand cracked across her already stinging ass cheeks once again. Except this time he slid his hand between her legs and massaged her clit through the black silk. Marlowe moaned at the burst of pleasure low in her belly. She clenched her jaw against the feeling and glared at Zaeed through the curtain of hair in her face. The stinging only heightened that pleasure, brought it to a razor sharp edge inside her. She groaned as the throbbing there matched the throbbing in her clit. “You were reckless today.” Marlowe hissed when his hand came down again.

“I’m always reckless in case that missed your brilliant observation skills there Massani.” She huffed and tried to shift again, but his hand didn’t budge. “Can’t get to N7 or Spectre by playing safe and nice.”

“There’s assessing risks and then the shit you pulled today.” Marlowe opened her mouth to retort when his fingers slipped past the silk to find her wet and aching for him. “What’s this? As much as you mouth off, you’re getting off to this.”

“Fuck off Massani if you think I’m getting off to you spanking me like a little kid,” she snarled but he merely found her clit and pinched. Her fingers curled against the floor at the sharp heat spearing through her.

“Hmm. You sure about that Shepard?” Zaeed leaned over her back while his fingers teased her clit until the heat threatened to consume her mind. Right as her body was poised to fall over the edge his hand pulled away and slapped hard against her ass.

“That is it.” Marlowe clenched her jaw. She hated to do it, but she was through being toyed with. She put her other hand on the ground, wincing at the flash of pain from her wound, and then pushed. She knew she’d reopened her bullet wound but she was also free from Zaeed’s hold. She kicked away her pants and glared down at him as the crimson slowly seeped into the bandage on her shoulder. His eyes zeroed in on it and she saw the concern there. Too bad he should have thought about that before he tortured her.

Before he could react, she straddled his waist and sat down right on his bulging cock. She knocked his hands away from her waist and met his sneer with one of her own. She wouldn’t let him call the shots anymore. Her fingers slid between them and pulled down his pants until his cock was freed. Zaeed realized what she was doing and grabbed her wrist to stop her. She merely lifted herself and sat down on his cock before he could even utter a protest.

“Fucking hell.” Zaeed hissed when he was buried deep inside her body. Her hips rocked against his in a slow, torturous rhythm. His head fell back against the couch when she angled her hips so his cock went deep. “You’re not doing yourself any favors with this either Shepard.”

“No, I’m not. But this is going to drive you crazy too Massani,” Marlowe explained and grinned when he cursed her under his breath. “I’m already fucking you.” He reached around and pinched her ass.

“Brat.” Marlowe chuckled and agreed she was a brat. Marlowe smirked when he glared at her for how slow she moved. She sensed the growing frustration in him but she savored it. She was done playing with him though, and just wanted to come.

Zaeed hissed and grabbed her hips when she began to move faster. “Jesus.” Marlowe grinned as she looped her arms around his neck.

“Jesus isn’t fucking your cock right now Zaeed.” Her teeth nipped at his chin as her body squeezed his cock. Marlowe chuckled as she heard him mutter something about her smart mouth being put to use. She reached up and grasped the front of his throat, tilting his chin until he was looking at her. “You’d love if I sucked your cock, but right now I’m going to fuck you until all you know is my name.”

“You’re a bitch.” Marlowe leaned in and brushed her lips across his in a whisper soft caress.

“Sweet talker.” She laughed when his hands grabbed her ass and he stood up. She hooked her ankles behind his back and grunted when her back hit the wall beside her tiny office space.

“Now who’s in charge?” Zaeed whispered in her ear but she merely gave him an indulgent smile that pissed him off. “You’re so smug.”

“Well deserved actually.” Marlowe grinned as his hips snapped up against hers in a brutal pace. She groaned his name when his body dragged against her clit with each thrust. It wasn’t enough for her and she eased one hand between them to tease her own clit.

“Fucking hell that’s hot Shepard,” he hissed when her body tightened around him. Marlowe’s head fell back against the wall at the heat building layer by layer between her legs. She grunted when his teeth bit down on her shoulder and he sucked hard. She lifted her head to curse at him.

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” Marlowe hissed but he lifted his mouth and the bruise was there standing out. He gave her a smug grin. Marlowe wanted to retort but the orgasm caught her off guard and her head fell against the wall with a loud thud and a moan spilled from her lips instead of the curse. His forehead dropped to her shoulder as her body milked his cock and he fell off the edge soon after with her.

Marlowe’s hand fumbled with the button next to them, but the bathroom door slid open with a soft hiss. Zaeed merely looked at her and Marlowe grinned at him. “I’m going to shower and then I’m going to bed.”

“Kicking me out again Shepard?” Marlowe snorted as he gently set her down, grimacing when he slid out of her welcoming body.

“You’re welcome to join me. But I am going to tell Chakwas it was your fault my wound reopened.” Marlowe informed him as he followed her inside.

“Oh that’ll go over great with the doctor. Sorry doc, my wound reopened because I was being a brat.” Zaeed grabbed her chin and turned her face up towards his.

“I bet you one hundred credits that she’ll lecture you. If you think something like this would scandalize Chakwas then you’re off your gourd.” Zaeed smirked and agreed to the bet. “Now, let me get clean before I head down there to get this bandaged again.” She turned towards the shower and Zaeed stepped in behind her.

Marlowe happily accepted her credits later that night after Chakwas read him the riot act for being so reckless. She grinned as he settled in behind her on the bed and he huffed in annoyance at how smug she was being.

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober2024 #seige kinktober #oc: marlowe shepard

5 notes · View notes

kookaburra-laugh · 2 years ago

Text

I read that in 2022 - GO Edition

hi friends, i come with a list of fic recommendations on this first day of 2023! for me, 2022 brought new friends and new fandom and im eager to share what i’ve read and loved with you all

not all of these were written in 2022, but that’s when i read them

Accept a Little Spin by nieded @nieded

rated E | 100k+ words (ongoing)

It's the 2023 season, and sophomore driver, Ezira Phale, is out to prove he's worthy of his seat at McLaren F1 as the world tests the boundaries of his confidence and his relationship with IndyCar driver, AJ Crowley.

Part 2 of Rainbow Road 🏁🌈

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth @themoonmothwrites

rate E | 88k words

After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

close quarters pining, slow and hot and full of feelings

stalwart sun, wily moon by dustnhalos @dustandhalos

rated M | 370k words

Anthony J. Crowley is a world-class art thief with a complicated past who, until now, had been pretty content with going through life as part of a prolific black market art trafficking ring.

That is, until a simple logistical hiccup leads him straight into the path of one Aziraphale Fell, former Head Conservator of the British Museum turned antique repair shop owner.

Little do they both know, the strands of friendship, morality, and deception in their shared circles of the London art world are interwoven in even more complex ways than either of them could have expected...

such rebel blood by curtaincall @fremulon

rated T | 60k words

Anthony Crowley needs a break. Six months after being tried for murder, he’s struggling to find a new publisher for his mystery novels—and to conquer his (apparently unrequited) feelings for Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, the man who saved his life.

Spending a few weeks out in the country working on a murder-mystery game for a rich young American’s twenty-first birthday party seems like an easy choice. But when the simulated death becomes all too real, Crowley finds himself caught up in the investigation—and crossing paths once more with someone he feared he’d never see again...

Part 2 of A Love Story with Detective Interruptions

No Room at the Inn by summerofspock @summerofspock

rated T | 735 words

A tipsy makeout scene for the prompt Bed Sharing.

tender and mild on main

Anatomy 101 by Fyre @amuseoffyre

rated E | 102k words

Two humans are enjoying some alone time. A demon has questions. An angel has answers.

an owners manual of sorts that developed feelings along the way

Mark of the Serpent by NaroMoreau, summerofspock @naromoreau @summerofspock

rated E | 150k words

Prince Aziraphale is about to be crowned King of Angelhaven when he's taken captive by pirates. When he's sold as a pleasure slave to King Crowley, ruler of the nation readying for war with his, he is forced to keep his identity a secret as he tries to find a way home and keep peace. But not everything at King Crowley's court is as it seems and Aziraphale will have to face machinations of a Royal Court that are far more complex than he had thought.

A Captive Prince AU with an omegaverse twist.

Unusual Occurrences at A.Z. Fell and Co.'s by WritesEveryBlueMoon @gwenstacyismyicon

rated T | 1500 words

When the bizzare and amusing habits of Mr A.Z. Fell, bookseller, begin to trend on the internet, those who dwell on various social media sites share their frustrations, confusion, and extraordinarily unusual stories.

An Oddly Mesmerizing Display by ZehWulf @zehwulf

rated E | 29k words

Crowley's a sex-indifferent/favorable asexual omega fresh off suppressants and in the market for someone to help him through what promises to be a trial of a heat. His friend gets him tickets to the Spring Fling Heat Date Auction, where he can win a date with an eligible alpha (or omega). Naturally, a certain alpha with a regrettably memorable stage magic show and intriguing scent catches his eye...

On The Habits Of Vampires And Retired Goths by munchmulch @munchmulch

rated T | 21k words

The thing is about Crowley's new neighbor, the thing is that Crowley is very, very gay.

the best kind of miscommunication. crowley has vampire traits and aziraphale makes some connections. aziraphale has wolfish traits but crowley is blinded by love and willfully ignores them

A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon by asideofourown @asideofourown

rated T | 8k words

[Crowley accidentally gets a bit famous, and the internet figures out he may be a bit immortal]

All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist @impishtubist

rated T | 6.5k words

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

crowley cant remember falliing in love, no matter how many times he does it

do you know what eternity is? by gazing @choreomanic

rated T | 16k words

I'll pretend to propose, Crowley said.

It'll be fine, Crowley said.

It was, Aziraphale decided, not fine.

tender and mild on main. incredibly soft and silly and cute. so many proposals

Till death do us part (or not) by fractalgeometry @geometricfractal

rated G | 2.5k words

Awkward Tesco reunions: the real curse of immortality

exactly as it says on the tin. hits all the best feels

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by hope_in_the_dark @hope-inthedark

rated T | 5.5k words

When Crowley drops a bomb on a church, Aziraphale falls in love with him. This should be a secret, but unfortunately, Aziraphale's never been much good at keeping them.

a heartwrencher to be sure, but so sweet and gentle at the same time

Hanging By a Moment by NaroMoreau @naromoreau

rated E | 5.5k words

Sometimes the best thing is to leave. Fresh slate and all that. For Crowley, it seems like the only option, having fallen hopelessly in love with his best friend.

crowley convinces himself that this moment with aziraphale that he's always wanted doesnt mean the same thing to both of them. but he's leaving next week so he's going to make sure this experience will be one to remember

Echo by snae_b

rated E | 52k words

This isn’t your average coffee shop AU.

kinda sorta amnesia/time loop but so much deeper! bamf protective devoted crowley

Amazing by nightbloomingcereus @moondawntreader

rated E | 9k words

Aziraphale thinks he's been hired to perform his magic act at a party. It turns out that there's been a slight misunderstanding and everyone thinks he's there for an entirely different sort of show. Good thing the caterer is there to save the day.

Green Groves by NaroMoreau @naromoreau

rated E | 16.5k words

Aziraphale Fell isn't entirely happy living in his father's house. But when a new friend enters into his life, his whole world will change in an unexpected way.

Paper Thin Walls by angelsnuffbox @angelsnuffbox

rated E | 16.5k

Sure being in love with your best friend when he also happens to live in the flat next door, where you can hear every single one of his conquests through that shared wall, sounds challenging. But being in love with your best friend when he lives next door and you two used to shag? Might just be a tad more difficult, but Aziraphale muddles through somehow.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless

rated T | 9.5k words

Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted. Hints of pre-A/C.

bookverse - crowley is injured by a blessed bullet in a warzone and aziraphale uses his full will (and rules lawyering) to keep him safe.

Any Way You Want It by Justkeeptrekkin @justkeeptrekkin

Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.

a scotland vacation, some realizations, and confessions to match. tender and mild on main.

Small Cock Appreciation Society by cheerios_and_wine @cheeriosandwine

rated E | 6.5k words

Crowley is the founding member. Aziraphale's is the member.

incredibly sweet and hot. crowley and aziraphale fit so well together

Lift Me Up, O Lord by CopperBeech @copperplatebeech

rated E | 37k words

Aziraphale Fell’s maintained a string of weightlifting victories, a strained relationship with his family, and his grandfather’s waistcoat right into his fifties.

Distance runner Anthony Crowley’s spent the last decade watching his racing career recede in the rearview, but it doesn’t stop him running, literally, away from his feelings.

lifter aziraphale, runner crowley, and a bicycle race

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b

rated E | 20k words

It’s fucking on camera. It’s not that complicated.

sex with feelings between porn stars who really hit it off

Pop the Question by tweedfeather @tweedfeather

rated T

Crowley plans to pop the question to Aziraphale at their favourite restaurant. Things don't go as planned.

A short, sweet, and silly fan-comic.

Where We Will Love by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr

rated E | 17.5k words

Crowley busks in Piccadilly Circus.

Just down the road in Haymarket, Azra Eastgate performs at Her Majesty’s Theatre.

One duet is going to change both their lives.

Trust Me, I'm A Professional by Lurlur @lurlur

rated E | 12k words

After a mishap with a client, Crowley finds himself booking in at his local emergency department. His bitchy angel of a nurse takes good care of him, making Crowley regret that he can't really just leave his number.

Perhaps the universe has other plans for his love life?

Many Ways To Say It by Fledglinger @fledglingdoodles

rated G

"Listen well, dear ones, for there are many ways to tell him 'I Love You'..."

an incredibly sweet comic

Steamed by summerofspock @summerofspock

When Aziraphale's favorite porn star walks into the coffee shop where he works, it completely derails Aziraphale's day.

What happens when the sexy guy you're used to watching fuck people on your computer screen is actually the most awkward man you've ever met?

Heavenly Hands by ZehWulf @zehwulf

rated E | 7.5k words

Even girlbosses need a bit of stress relief between gaslighting and gatekeeping, and Crowley is no exception. Good thing she has a standing appointment with an angel from Higher Calling Relaxation. (A porn trope parody fic.)

A Sharper Sweet by musegnome @musegnome

rated E | 5k words

Nothing smells quite the same any more. He bends over the plates anyway, and breathes in deep. Cinnamon and chocolate, fruit and sugar and butter. The scents would have set his mouth watering, before. He reaches out to touch the raspberry sauce drizzled over the cake, and stares at the drop of deep pink puree mounded on his fingertip.

crowley enjoys some sweets for his vampire partner and they both have a rather enjoyable time. a little angst at the start

Pavlov's Backroom by justheidi @scienceismygirlfriend

rated M | 444 words

"A word with you, angel. In private."

A conversation in the backroom of the bookshop.

Trying it On by snae_b

rated E | 6k words

Anthony Crowley. Stylist to an elite tier of the UK’s hottest stars. And now, apparently, to one dowdy, soft around the middle, recently divorced publishing heir.

Intermezzo by FeralTuxedo @feraltuxedo

rated E | 47k words

Music critic Aziraphale Fell is trying to break into the world of television, when he is signed to make a documentary about former-rockstar-turned-composer Anthony Crowley. It’s been eleven years since Aziraphale’s disastrous review of Crowley’s debut opera nipped his classical music career in the bud. He can only hope that Crowley will get over his admittedly justified grudge to make the TV show a success.

A classical music sex comedy. Yes, really.

Coq au Vin by Ginger_Cat @gingiekittycat

rated E | 13k words

Tonight’s the night. He can feel it in his bones, in his wings, in his demonic soul. It’s going to happen—months of showering the angel with flowers and chocolates and perfect picnic lunches and walks thorough the farmers’ market, romantic row-boat rides on the lake and concerts in the park and dinner at the Ritz and everything in-bloody-between, are all culminating in this one night.

Because Crowley is making Aziraphale dinner, and Crowley is going to kiss him.

When the Sun Goes Down by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr

rated E | 16k words

Mr Anthony J. Crawleigh, disgraced heir to the Helton Abbey Estate, has been summoned home to attend his sister's engagement party.

It's only four days of shooting, dancing and making nice with nobs. He's survived much, much worse.

If only Mama hadn't arranged for such a handsome young man to undress him every night. Practically asking for trouble, that is.

Everything I've Had by AppleSeeds

rated M | 13k words

After developing a chronic illness that leaves him unable to live alone, Crowley moves back home to London where he reunites with his childhood best friend Aziraphale. Aziraphale helps to take care of Crowley and keeps him company while he's in bed, bringing them closer together and reigniting old feelings.

for the first time by summerofspock @summerofspock

rated E | 3k words

It’s been six months since they’ve seen each other any way besides over FaceTime and Aziraphale is desperate for the sound of Crowley’s voice without the filter of the tinny speakers of his iPhone, for the smell of the crook of his neck, for the way his body fills the space beside him. He knows Crowley will be here soon and yet his heart hardly believes it is real.

Rivers Of Gold by entanglednow @entanglednow

rated E | 7k words

Crowley is commissioned to sculpt an angel for a family chapel, but the more he uncovers from the marble the less willing he is to give it up.

amaretto by goosewriting @goosetooths

rated E | 69k words

Aziraphale, a human, has grown used to being alone.

Everything changes for him when a unique occult relic falls into his hands and loops him into a contract with a mild-mannered (if a bit snarky) demon named Crowley.

#good omens #fic rec #give these authors some love #thanks for helping me through another year #looking forward to the madness that will be season 2 #happy new year

160 notes · View notes