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hoshigray · 1 year ago

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Sweet Blind Summer Fling ༄ S. Gojo

"Due to a bet made by Nobara, I made an online dating account to set myself up with a blind date. Although a bit witty and annoyingly childish, Gojo's remarkably handsome and sweet...So, how the hell did I end up sleeping with him on the first date!?"

A/n: Alright, y'all, it's time for the second entry for my summer series!! Not gonna lie, it was fun to write as it's my first time writing for Gojo. I think I did a decent job capturing his character in my style, but you will be the judge of that. This was supposed to be posted on Monday, but I was overwhelmed (had 1 hour of sleep) and dropped something else. But we're good to go now! :) And fyi: there's a bonus scene at the end that sets up the next story as they are connected. Any spelling/grammar errors will be dealt with tomorrow.

Also, guest appearances from my lovely mooties (@cu7ie // @kazushawty // @etherealxmaya // @hqkalon // @yourrfavzxri // @neptunes1nterweb) because I felt like it, lol. Hope this puts a smile on their faces if they see this :3

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: switch! Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - blind date/online match-up - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Gojo is around early 30s) - texting back and forth - sex at a hotel - one night stands - consensual sex under the influence - protected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - cowgirl + lotus positions - pet names (angel, baby, dollface, pretty, princess, sweet thing) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - praise - mentions of drug/alcohol use (reader and Gojo don't get blackout drunk, but y'all get tipsy) - a bunch of silliness bc it's a Gojo fic (duh).

Wc: 6.9k (7.4k with the bonus scene...never say I don't do anything for y'all)

Dear Diary...I once again have come to you with more thoughts that cloud my personal judgment. I did not think you'd be of use to me again. But after what happened last night, it's worth having you in front of me and a pen in my hand again once more...

After finishing your finals, summer break has finally welcomed you with open arms. Two semesters of painful studying and sleepless nights have been long forgotten since you turned in your last in-person exam! You've started working at an internship that you've been dying to get, enjoying the new things you're learning from experienced colleagues, and finding love in the field you've grown and studied for this entire time.

In addition, you also have all the time in the world to hang out with your best friends — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara! Just last weekend, you four hung out at this new sports bar that recently opened and had the most fun experience! Yuuji made new friends with people at the bar who kept buying him drinks; Megumi had to begrudgingly watch over the salmon-haired other to ensure he didn't croak from alcohol poisoning, and you and Nobara took sweet pictures together for your summer album.

It's been a great summer so far. There has been nothing that could bring you down from enjoying this season in the best way you can. Absolutely nothing that could throw you off your summer grove!

However, that's what you initially thought. Because why else would you be in some random hotel room writing in your diary.

To get the full context, I'll take you back to the night I and the gang left the sports bar. We spent the night at Yuuji's as he and Nobara tried to sober up...

It was a chill evening in your friend's place, you and the other three in the living room chatting with the television on low to not disrupt his sleeping grandfather. Yuuji was sobering up by eating bread and drinking water, Megumi was on the couch reading something on his phone, and you were arguing with Nobara.

The auburn-haired other points to you with her index, holding a glass of water. "I told ya, you lost the bet!"

"How!? You literally cheated!" You push her finger out of the way as you two giggle at your complaints. "You kicked Yuuji in the shin to distract him, and I didn't even know I was a part of the damn thing!"

Now your pink-haired friend jumped to say words of his own. "That was foul with what you did; I should've fallen to the floor and acted like I was really hurt. Have you paying my medical bills."

"Blah, blah, blah, sounds like a losers' pleas to me." Nobora rolls her eyes while you and Yuuji glare at her. "And you! You didn't say you were out of the game, unlike Megumi. I said, and I quote: 'When the wings touch the table, the bet is on,' and guess what? By the time the wings got here, I didn't hear a single peep out of you saying you forfeited from the challenge! Once you picked up a single wing, your ass was set in stone!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you annoying bitch..." you groan in your hands as the woman maniacally barks her laughs. "Alright, fine, I ate the shortest portion of wings. Therefore, I, Y/n L/n, declare myself the loser to this fuckery of a challenge. So, Queen Cheater," Nobara snickers to herself at the title you've given her. "What is my punishment?"

You should've known by the evil twinge of your friend's lip that the punishment would be absurd. "I, Queen Cheater," she takes a confident swig of her water before sealing your fate. The words she says next shake to your core, and the decline of your dignity hits you like a bullet train. "...Hereby dare you, the loser, to make an online dating account and find thyself a blind date!"

Your disapproval fell on deaf ears, forcing you to resentfully grab your phone and download a dating app. To make matters worse, you had to make the account with your friends watching (minus Megumi, who still wanted no part in what you all were doing). Once you were done setting up your profile, the three of you looked to the screen to look at the other users, who were also on a quest to find a sense of courtship.

The past thirty minutes have been spent looking at all the users around the area, swiping left and right for those who did and didn't pique your interest.

Todo Aoi (22) "I like 'em tall, with a FAT ASS. If you don't fit the criteria, it's gonna be hard to convince me."

Oh, brother.

Sol (18) "Don't know about a long-term relationship, but we can be chill if ya wanna be friends! :D"

Seems nice. Maybe a chat wouldn't hurt.

Mei Mei (36) Don't ever expect me to pay for the first date or any date. Will you see me again depends on what you have in your savings. ♡

Alright, I appreciate the honesty. But nope.

Karma (20) "Tbh I'm secretly married to my four wives: Hoshi, Maya, Sae, and Zari. But if you look like or are Toji Fushiguro, hit my DMs pronto!! Shhhh, don't tell Hoshi tho, she might divorce me :P"

Okay then—Wait, isn't that Megumi's dad??

Hoshi (20s) Don't listen to Karma. We are very much divorced, and my heart belongs to my one and only: Toji Fushiguro :/

Alrighty then...

Sapphire (19) "Call me MLK, cuz I had a dream about us 🫦"

Fucking no!

Frustration keens in through a heavy sigh. Usually, you'd be happy knowing you can't seem to find a match; however, for this situation, Nobara Kugisaki will not let you off the hook until there's someone worthy of the swipe of invitation. You groan in exhaustion, throwing your head back onto the couch behind you.

With no luck, you decided to call it a night and try again later. So you called an Uber, took yourself home after saying goodbyes to your friends, and reluctantly promised Nobara you'd let her know if you'd get a blind date. With a nice shower and some comfortable PJs, you're now lying comfortably on your bed and looking through all the pictures you took tonight. Then, for some reason, you had the urge to go back on the dating app to look through more users to match up with. Probably because you'd prefer to get this bet out of the way now than later. Regardless of the justification, you spend about twenty minutes swiping and reading through many other people's profiles, and — just like before — not many people catch your eye.

That holds true until you stumble upon a name and description that sparks your curiosity.

Satoru Gojo (old enough to be irresistible; 31) "I was made perfect, I can do everything perfectly, but I want us to be perfect together (･ω<;)☆"

It might've been the use of the emoticon or the confidence that seeped out based on the tiny description. Whatever the case, you stayed on the user's profile for quite a while longer than the others. Even going far as to read his profile thoroughly: knowing what his likes and dislikes are, his height, a fan of Digimon, and so on.

And you contemplated whether or not to swipe him to the side of approval, but you made up your mind after a few minutes of inner discourse. It's not like I'll match up with him immediately. So, you gave him the go and continued on with your search.

Although, that was short-lived because what happened next surprised you to the point that sleep no longer claimed over you.

"Contratz! You've successfully matched with Satoru Gojo!"

Wait, what!!??

You were utterly perplexed by the pop-up showing up on your phone screen. There's no way this was happening, all under the same night, too! And what surprised you the most was the fact that he was awake as well, sending you the first message:

gogojojo: Hey!

Oh, fucking shit. Your body tenses at the greeting, reading his username and message repeatedly. Quickly, you take a few deep breaths to ease yourself before doing something stupid. You answer him with a salutation of your own:

y/ndontwannabehere: Hi there!

gogojojo: A night owl too, huh? Couldn't sleep?

y/ndontwannabehere: Yeah, was just on my phone for a bit, until I saw your message.

gogojojo: Lucky me! I was surprised to have you as a match, I saw your profile about an hour ago.

y/ndontwannabehere: I'm also surprised as well, you're one of the few people who I seemed interested in.

gogojojo: Well, I'm flattered :D Now that you got my attention, what would you like to know about me?

y/ndontwannabehere: Okay...it says you're six-foot-three, how's that like?

gogojojo: I may be six-foot-three, but I'd like to be six feet under you ;3

y/ndontwannabehere: ......

......I regret giving this dude a chance.

Because of the terrible pick-up line, you closed off the app and turned off your phone to switch the lights off and go to sleep. However, another text sends your phone vibrating on the dresser's surface.

gogojojo: Woooow, not even a pity laugh? :/

You shake your head at the notification, but a smile creeps up when you open your phone and tap on the keys to message back.

y/ndontwannabehere: nope, that sucked ass.

gogojojo: Hey now!! >:T you can't say it's ass if it did what it was supposed to do

y/ndontwannabehere: and what's that?

gogojojo: got you here talking with me ヾ(●ε●)ノ

His message makes your smile broader, and you spend the rest of the night talking to Gojo.

It continues for two more weeks, sharing pieces of info about yourselves while rolling your eyes at his annoying jokes and pick-up lines. But for the most part, you enjoy your talks with the stranger on the other side of your screen.

And it all goes swell until he drops this:

gogojojo: Hey! Wanna go on a date with me this weekend?

You were lying on your bed watching Netflix, and you almost choked on your dinner when the message popped up. So in tune with the back-and-forth between you and Gojo that you had forgotten why you made an online dating account in the first place! You grab for your phone to reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: you're serious?!

gogojojo: yeah! I mean, you and I've been talking for a while, I'm kinda into you, plus we could meet up somewhere close. Besides, I would like to see you, and I know you're dying to see me too :)

y/ndontwannabehere: And what makes you think I'd DIE just to see you?

gogojojo: Because why would you not~? You'd be surprised by how many people I've had fallen head-over-heels for me~

y/ndontwannabehere: well, guess I'll be the first one to not be >:3

gogojojo: HUH!!?? Don't say that, I'll cry

y/ndontwannabehere: LMAO grown ass man crying over rejection

gogojojo: Rejection hurts, and I have a weak heart!! :'000

y/ndontwannabehere: Liar.

gogojojo: ANYWAYS! You up for a date?

And that's how you started dressing yourself up on a Friday afternoon, fixing yourself up in front of your bedroom mirror. Checking your phone periodically for Gojo to tell you when he's in front of your home.

You already texted Nobara that you got a blind date, to which she praised you with monumental amounts of supportive text messages and emojis and a text stating she'll throttle you if you don't tell her all about it. It was humorous: you created the online dating account because of a stupid bet for a random date — and now that it was here, you didn't know how to feel. You can't say when was the last time you ever went out with someone, let alone on a blind date! Anxiousness shadows you about the whole thing, but after chatting and getting to know a little bit of Gojo, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad of a date.

After all, the guy seems likable and fun to hang out with based on your interactions. Plus, it's only a date. That's all it is. Absolutely nothing attached in any shape or form.

Thoughts grind to a halt when you hear your phone vibrating on your dresser, a text from Gojo.

gogojojo: I'm here~~~ Ready to fall madly in love with me? :3

Your heart skips a beat at the message, biting the bottom of your lip in nervousness. You send him a reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: Nah, ready to barf right in front of your face :P

gogojojo: Such a rude person :/ Get your butt out here

You giggle before shutting off your phone and grabbing your bag with all your necessary items. Before you leave, you look in the mirror one last time, using this moment to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come. The day has come; you're about to go on a date. No going back now, and I can finally put this dumb bet to rest!

You open your front door and enter outside, the summer heat crawling on your legs from your cute jean shorts and your shoulders excluded from the cream-white cami top. You see a black car — a black 2018 BMW XI — parked right on the street, windows tinted to hide the face you're looking for. But when you draw closer to the vehicle, the passenger side window slides down, and you finally meet him.

The man of the hour himself, the man you've been talking with for two weeks straight, and the man you were about to experience a complete mess of a date with: Satoru Gojo.

"Hey there," his voice was chipper and friendly; his texting style matched his speech. From the window, you can interpret his outfit: a blue flannel shirt covering his white Tee and black jeans with a silver chain emanating from his belt. His eyes were blocked by dark circle sunglasses, making it hard to decipher the color. But his snow-white hair was the first thing that caught your eye, contrasting with the black interior of his car. "Y/n, right?"

You smile at your name. "Correct, Mr. Gogojojo."

He snickers at the use of his username. "You look cute, and I know you like what you see since you were eyeballing me up and down."

"Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes before opening the passenger door, putting your bag between your legs as you sit down. While putting on your seatbelt, you can feel the bass subtlety vibrate within the car, and the music was...What the fuck? You look at the front integrated head unit on the dashboard and see what artist the man is listening to. "...You listen to Zack Fox?"

"Yeah, I was listening to his songs on my way here! You know his song Marinate?" And before you could answer, the white-haired man sang along to the lyrics. To your perplexity, you just watch him rap along with the artist and the outlandish lyrics. And he just keeps going until the transition to the second verse. "Funny, right?"

"You know," you shake your head at Gojo, whose grin goes wider. "I was about to fall for you until you started rapping the lyrics."

"Whaaaat, he's a comedian, it's meant to be funny!"

"Whatever. Let's just hurry and get this date over with."

"Oh, sounds like someone's ready to be wined and dined by me." He starts the car and shifts between gears. "Don't rush things, princess. Good things come to those who wait."

"Just drive!"

Gojo laughs at your complaints as he drives off on the street. You playfully groan to yourself at your date's antics, looking out to the window to watch your surroundings move past your line of sight.

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"Ever since high school, I would eat a pack of gummies anytime I was doing homework because it stimulates my brain and helps me focus. So by the time college came around, I got so used to eating sweets that I naturally started liking them." Gojo took a sip of his milkshake. "But then, when my best friend and I went to our first house party, I had my first drink. And, Y/n."

"Oh God, what?"

"The taste was so bad that I tried downing it all in one chug. Well, that came back to bite my ass — and my best friend got the worst of it."

"Gojo, what did you do?"

"He was sitting down on a couch talking to someone, and I was behind the couch feeling all squeamish. So, before I could stop myself, I barfed on his hair!"

"Oh, my God, No!!" And the two of you roar in laughter and bang on the booth table you were sitting at.

The date was at an old, vibrant diner in the city where Gojo is a regular customer; the cozy and welcoming atmosphere had you erase any anxious feelings about this date and feel a little more confident. You and Gojo took things slow, you talking about your summer internship and him of his job as a high school teacher.

The conversation started the topic of summer break came to play, prompting you to talk more about yourself and your friends. That flipped the switch entirely as you became more open about your friends and their goofiness. And as a goofy man, Gojo was intrigued with your stories and had him reminiscent of memories from his youth. Although, you've come to find out that Gojo takes his playful nature to a whole other level, and it's been having you two laugh about said foolishness for the past hour.

"The funny thing is, right, he was talking to this sophomore girl that was eyeing him up the whole time we were there," Gojo says through wheezes. "And he was finally talking to this chick, and she was really getting into him. I didn't mean to intrude on his parade or anything, but as my best friend, you're supposed to help me through thick and thin. I was going to ask if it was okay if I headed to the dorm alone while he stayed at this party. And then, vomit happened."

"Ewww, you terrible friend!" You try to eat a fry from your meal, but your giggles make dining difficult. "No wonder he pranked you with a weed brownie."

"Jokes on him; I still nailed my presentation for my exam. I don't remember saying anything I said, but I take pride in whatever I did to get that A." He takes a big bite of his burger and swallows before saying more. "And I started seeing the sophomore girl he talked to afterward, so checkmate."

You gasp at the information and throw a piece of your food at him, which he effortlessly catches with his hand and eats. "You petty bastard! I'm on your friend's side all the way."

"No regrets!" He hits you with his annoying chuckle that has you smiling hard, and the light above your table makes his dark sunglasses shine chicly.

"Oh, yeah?" You inquire. "I bet I could make you regret it."

The man on the other side of the booth scoffs. "Is that so? And how are you gonna do that, my pretty princess?"

You didn't think he'd buy your bluff. So, the truth is, you had no idea of how'd you punish the snow-haired man. Looking around the diner, you scope for anything that sparks a concept. You then turn to his side and notice a booth at the far end. A woman was laughing with her friends and sipping on a cocktail, making a slightly sour face after taking a drink.

And then it hits, along with a sneer, and you peer back to your date.

"You don't like alcohol, right?" He quirks up a brow at your question. "How many times have you had a drink in your life?"

"Three or four."

"Well then, I dare you to drink three or four cocktails. No milkshake or water to help you get through. Just the ice cubes in the drink."

White brows furrow, and even if the shades block them from your interpretation, you can tell Gojo is studying your face in deep thought with your so-called punishment. Ten seconds go by before he scoffs again. "I'll take up on that. On one condition," he leans back on the booth seat. "You have to take the drinks with me as well."

Now it's your turn to raise a brow and think about his words. "You're paying for the drinks."

"Done deal." He pulls his hand outward to you, initiating a handshake to set the seal in stone before continuing on with this game of yours. You happily shake his hand, commencing the punishment to officially start.

One cocktail was a breeze for you but a bit of a doozy for Gojo to stomach; you had to warn him that if he barfed on you, you'd ditch him and block him for life. Two cocktails in is when you begin feeling tingly. Your date was going through it halfway into the glass, so you had to compromise that a glass of water was needed for him.

Three cocktails in, and you undoubtedly feel the alcohol hit you behind its sweet and tangy facade. You can hardly look at the drink, same with Gojo. You two look at each other and shake your heads in disagreement, pushing the glasses to the side and groaning with your now-drunk selves.

Gojo is the first to say something. "As far as disciplines go, that was, without a doubt, one of the worst things I've had to endure."

You giggle. "Honestly. But I—hic! Excuse me. I bet you're regretting throwing up on your friend's hair now. I did it for his sake, after all."

He only looks at you through his glasses. He then gets up from his side of the booth and walks to yours, and you scoot over to let him have a seat. "Nah, don't regret it one bit. Because if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have you over here laughing and suffering in alcohol with me about it." He maneuvers his hand to rest on your shoulder, and you allow him to move closer to you. "Wouldn't be spending this fun evening with you."

Your eyes hesitantly venture up to his face, welcoming you to the tension that builds up with the lighting and soft music of the diner. His hand rubs on your shoulder in a comforting manner, a gesture you take note of even under the influence. "You know, since you're enjoying having me and all, don't you think I should have a reward for doing your punishment with you."

"And what reward do you have in mind?"

"Can I see them?" You use a finger to motion your own pair of eyes, resulting in the snow-haired man in a short chuckle. But he doesn't argue with you and uses his free hand to remove his shades.

Icy blue is the first thing that comes to mind when you look at his eyes. His orbs are a rarity to the usual crowd, yet they go perfectly with his peachy complexion and pale hair. His orbs hooded and honed in on your figure, appearing soft because of the slight rosy shade of pink on his cheeks. You take in every single feature of his face before speaking.

"Well, I'm starting to see why so many people fall for you, Mr. Gojo." Your face goes hot with the sudden confidence that sneaks within you, yet you continue. "You're very attractive."

He chortles at your comment. "Thanks, dollface. But I don't think it's fair that you only get a reward from me. After all, I almost drowned in alcohol."

You hum. "Fair enough. What would you like?"

His face doesn't change with the following sentence he utters, but you take note of the slight squeeze on your shoulder. "A kiss from the princess would sure warm my heart."

Brows draw upward and breath hitches. A kiss? On the first date? On a blind date?

You don't know what possessed you to do this — it might have been the cocktails. But you incline your face to his and move forwards, your plump lips land on his soft ones for a simple kiss. And with the low hum of his voice, you place another. And another.

When you remove yourself from him, his eyes open to meet yours. A smile gets broader, and so does yours. "You taste sweet," you say.

"So do you." His fingers toy with the strap of your cami top. "Kinda want to kiss you more. And, you know, do a little more, only if you're up for it."

You give him a look. "I believe I just gave you a reward after receiving yours."

"I know, I know," he raises his other hand defensively, but he doesn't remove his smirk. "That's why it's up to you."

You only look at him as he waits for your answer. You already kissed the man; what more is supposed to happen on a blind date? Thoughts on what to do are carefully calculated in your mind, remembering the reason why you're even on this date in the first place. Without Nobara's stupid bet, none of this would be conspiring. Yet simultaneously, it's not like you were having a terrible time. If anything, it was quite the opposite. Not once did you feel uncomfortable around Gojo's presence or feel the need to call off the date. Just enjoying his company and character that attracts you to him more. Even if it means spending the entire night with him.

I'm already deep into this night. What's the use of stopping now.

"So?" Your eyes peer up and down on his figure. "What does 'a little more' entail?"

One moment you and Gojo were enjoying each other's company at a diner, then the date was moved to a different location the next. Now you and the white-haired man are in a cozy hotel nearby. You expressed your worries about Gojo driving you two to the new spot as he still had alcohol in his system. But your complaints fell on deaf ears as he persuaded you into trusting him ("Don't worry, it's like three streets away! Plus, it's almost midnight. No one's on the street." "If you crash us into a pole or something, don't ever ask to talk to me again." "Duly noted~" )

The two of you got yourself into a small hotel room. Soft lighting from the lamps bathes nude bodies lying on the comfortable queen-sized. You mount on top of Gojo, a makeout session warming the two of you up with the exchange of body heat. Sucking and biting each other's lips, his big hand at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and the grind of your hips on his firm erection makes the throbbing sensation between your legs flourish with your slick painting him.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you allow him to venture below your clavicle. Pillowy lips pepper your chest and eventually find your breasts, taking a hardened nipple into his warm mouth.

A sharp cry exits your mouth when Gojo lightly teases your nipple with his teeth. "Mmmm! G-Gojo, pleaseee, I want it," your words come out in whimpers, your body quivering as your cunt brushes against his erect cock shielded by a rubber.

"Is that so, dollface?" He coos at your pleas, his hand running up and down the cusp of your ass and slender fingers teasing your aching entrance every time they draw nearer. "Then go on, ride on my dick like you want to."

His permission has your face go hot, but you station your hands on his chest to propel you upwards, admiring the view of him below you for a moment before lifting your ass. He moves his hands behind his head to relax, signaling you to do the work yourself and at your own pace. And with that, you do.

Your bottom raises until you position the tip of his shaft on the squish lips of your folds. Your breath hitches at the contact of his glans. His smooth voice coaxes you. "Relax, sweet thing. Take your time." You take a few moments to even your breathing and mentally prep you for your following actions. Hips gradually go down and push the cockhead further between your folds. Entry is prompted through the pain with every breath, and a sharp gasp lets you know that his girth finally enters you. And Gojo moans as well.

"Hmmm, that's it." He comments sweetly, his blue orbs tracing the union of your sexes. His hands now snake to your hips, and he throws his head back on the pillow under him. "Ready when you are, princess."

When you're ready, you move your hips downward to take in more of his member, the size of him widening your folds to accommodate the foreign limb intruding inside your vulva. His curve nudging your inner walls has your legs quake, and you concentrate on not being hasty and taking his cock all in one go. So once you finally meet the base, you exhale shaky and use a few seconds for your body to adjust.

Knowing you have the reins, you start to move. You start off with a slow speed, letting the feeling of his dick rub your walls in a steady position. Your whining is muffled with the bite of your lip, but not the man below you. He proudly expresses his pleasure in his moans, the hold on your hips getting tighter.

"Haaahhh, so good and tight," Gojo purrs, egging you to dial up your tempo. He notices you biting the bottom of your lip, and he chuckles. "Come on, baby. I wanna hear that cute voice of yours. Lemme hear it all." He then surprises you with a sudden thrust, evoking a choked cry from puffy lips.

You get the memo then and just let the pornographic noises fly, every moan getting higher and louder with the pace of your hips. His length drilling within you with each intake, and you lean forward for your clitoris to stimulate with the friction, causing you to jerk. You can't tell if it's because of the sex or the cocktails from hours ago making your nerves so sensitive and tender. But in any case, it makes you feel so good right now.

And when you lean back, the feeling gets even more ecstatic, resulting in more mewls from you. His dick goes even further than before, grazing your sweet spots and walls with precision with your increased speed. You swerve your hips in circles, having the man groan. To counter, his hand snakes down to your clitoris to play and pinch on, and you scream.

"Ahhhnn! Haaaah, Gojo! It feels so," the sounds of your ass smacking on his things are now apparent to the ears. The raunchy squelching noises of your cunt embarrass you; however, you can't deny the grip your cunt has on his cock with every rock. Your mind slowly descends into a dreamy haze. "Nnnmph!! Feels too goood, wanna commme..."

He opens his eyes to look at you; the erotic display of your nude body bouncing on his shaft turns him on even more. "Yeah, wanna come with me?" You nod lazily, earning another chortle from the man beneath you. "Alright, stay still for me."

It takes you aback when he suddenly moves up from the bed, sitting with his legs crossed under your ass and his handsome face too close to yours. You instinctively avert your gaze away from the frosty-headed other, bashfully turning your face to the side. It amuses him, guiding your face back to him with his hand. "Hehe, don't be scared of me, angel. I wanna see that beautiful face of yours."

Again, you can't tell whether or not it's the effect of the alcohol, but your face and ears go uncomfortably hot at his compliments. And now that his face is so close to yours, you can clearly take in his features. His sky-blue eyes were extremely fixated with yours, softly hooded with the flutter of his snow eyelids and in contrast with his rosy cheeks. Your heart skips a beat. What is with this beautiful motherfucker?! "Stop flirting with me in the middle of this..."

He laughs at your sheepishness, kissing your cheek. "Flirting with you is what got you here in the first place, baby. Now," his hands slither down your ass, squeezing the flesh with his fingers. "I'm gonna start moving — get ready."

He waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck and lift yourself from his legs before he begins moving his pelvis. The rash jabs of his cock leave you gasping for air and clasping around him. He hisses to your ear with his arms now wrapped around your back as he brings up the rhythm of his hips. You're now forced to bounce onto his crossed legs, his dick scraping your insides deliciously so that you can't think properly.

It's now that everything feels better than before; his member now achieving deeper penetration to the point of hitting your G-spot accurately with the underside of him. You no longer try to suppress the sounds leaving your lips, your wails bringing life to the hotel room. And Gojo's moans get louder and louder when your legs slither around him, and your ass matches the climbing cadence.

"Oooooh, fuck, Gojo! Shit, shit—Mmaah!!" With every rut to your cunt, you can feel the pounding of your head get louder and louder. "Oh, Christ, it feels tew good, so gooood...!!"

"Hnngh, mmmnph!!" Gojo groans at the pleasure, placing his sweaty forehead on yours. His eyes survey your certified expression caused by his touch. He chuckles, "You look so cute jumping on my cock like this. Such a pretty angel."

Timid by his words, you shift your face onto his shoulder to shield away from his line of sight. "Haaaah, stop saying stuff like that—Ahhhhhnnn!!"

You shriek when two fingers come down to your clitoris, the digits swiping and pinching the tender bud. "Hiding away from me again, huh, dollface?" He continues to mess with your clit ensuing in choked mewls and tears streaming down your face, and his hips increase in speed.

Your brain is a mushy mess, fighting the right to form coherent sentences. His fingers go at a hurried pace, abusing your clit. You're so close. Almost there. "Ahhh! Ahhhhh! Go-Gojo, pleaseee, I'm gonna cum—Hmmm!! Ahhaaaaaa!!!"

The peak hits you hard like a train, your body shaking uncontrollably on Gojo and his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering beautifully on his length. And the contraction pushes him to release, his essence captured in the condom to prevent a spill.

Pants and groans fill the hot space between you two, and Gojo kisses your shoulder as the shockwaves die down with every passing second. A wave of calm covers your body while exhaustion crawls up your spine. You lift your head from his shoulder, and he's met with the most beautiful dazed expression he's ever seen.

"Heh, I should drink with you more often if it means I see you like this." He kisses your nose, and you smile.

"Oh, shut up," you remark breathlessly, and your lips meet his. He kisses you without hesitation, bringing you with him as he lies back on the bed. The sounds of his lips smacking with yours fill the room with a romantic glow, and it stays that way even when slumber claims you both.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You're woken up by some sort of light on your eyelids and the sound of birds chirping. With a few blinks, your eyes open and are met with the sun's glaring rays peeking through the blind of the hotel window. Begrudgingly, you rise from the mattress and stretch your fatigued limbs. A massive headache greets your head without your consent, pounding it like a drum. The sheet above you slips from your figure, and you find out you slept bare nude.

Too flustered for exhaustion to take control, you grab the sheet to cover your chest, afraid that someone would've seen. The headache vanishes into thin air as you whip and search the room. But there's no one here? And you then notice the blue flannel on the side next to you. The side of the man you were on a date with.

Wait? I was with Gojo last night, right? Questions of the night prior finally come to you. Okay, wait, we went to that diner. Then we had those cocktails, which was a bad idea on my part. So what else? Oh. We kissed. Yeah...we kissed...then I got in his car and drove to this hotel room, and then...And then we.....we—

Unable to complete that thought, a sudden click catches your attention, whipping your head to the hotel door to see it open. And there he is.

Gojo enters the room with his clothes back on, his white tee and black jeans. His shades now block the beautiful eyes you had seen last night — perhaps it was a fever dream, imagining that you did see them. He's holding a paper cup, which you could only assume was tea or coffee. When he notices you, he greets you with a smile.

"Well, good morning, sunshine~" his tone gets chipper the closer he walks to the bed. Placing the cup on the bedside before grabbing for his flannel. "I brought you some tea since I'm sure your throat is sore from last night," your face heats up at the comment. "Plus, I didn't want to leave you empty-handed before I head out."

You blink at him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Remember my friend I told you about last night?" You nod at him while he ties his blue clothing around his waist. "He texted me earlier, saying something came up with one of our other closer friends, and they need my help. He tried calling me, so I had to leave the room to let you sleep."

You hum at his confession. "I see..." How considerate.

"Hey," He climbs on the bed to be close to you. "Sorry that I can't take you back home or treat you to breakfast or something. Maybe next time."

Now that he's close to you like this, you can make out the implications of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, blue orbs honed in on you and you alone. Your cheeks gradually go warm. "Next time?" You didn't mean for it to be a whisper, too entranced to notice.

He chuckles at your comment, and you swear your heart's beating irregularly. "Yeah, princess. I'd love to see you next time." He draws closer to kiss your forehead, and it takes every nerve in your body to not melt then and there. He then removes himself from the bed, the dent returning to normal now that his weight is off.

Gojo straightens himself and turns away from you. "Alright, I'm off. I'll leave my hotel card by the door. Text me if you need money for an Uber, 'kay?" You hear the door open. "Be good, ya hear!?" He shouts to you from the other side of the room, practically already in the hallway.

"Same to you!" You reply back in the same manner.

"No promises~." And with that comes the sound of the door closing, confirming your isolation in the now quiet hotel room. You're left to properly rekindle everything that led you up to this point, yet even then, you feel so at a loss.

As far as blind dates go — or dates in general — it's safe to say that this was the most bizarre one you've had. Not because anything dire happened. And that's probably the reason why it felt so surreal. You came into this date to release yourself from the shackles of a bet, knowing that you wouldn't see the end of it from your friend if you didn't take care of it with haste.

Nevertheless, thanks to Gojo, it didn't feel like a bet. Not at all. It felt like an actual, fun date with a new person. With a great person at that. Not once did you express any uncomfortable feelings or ill will towards Gojo. And if you did, you're sure he tended to your worries without your knowing.

"I'd love to see you next time."

His words ring in your ear once more, and they resume to do so when you exit from the bed to grab your bag on the chair next to you. You grasp the most necessary item inside — your diary — and sit at the hotel room desk to document your concluding statements appropriately.

...What happened last night was something that I had no vision of seeing. So, now that it did happen, I just feel a little...empty? Probably because I took care of Nobara's bet and don't have to worry about going on another date again.

But, deep down, a part of me wants to do it all again — Not with just anyone, but with him. What we shared yesterday was one of the most refreshing days I've had all summer. Although he was a bit childish for his mature age, maybe that made me like him even more. He was kind to me, funny, and, dare I say, an attractive guy, both in personality and physical appearance.

Thanks for the date, Satoru Gojo. And if you wish to see me again, any time at any place, know that my heart will accept with glee.

˚₊‧꒰ა Bonus ☆ Scene!! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Gojo exits the hotel room and walks down the hall to the elevator, whistling a tune that only he could understand. He presses the button to summon the machine to his floor, and it comes in a few seconds with the soft ding to mark its risen state. And before Gojo could fully get inside, he sensed his phone vibrating in his right jean pocket.

He grabs for it and stops whistling, tapping on the green call button and placing the device to his ear as the elevator doors close. "Morning, you man-bunned prick."

"It's midday, you blue-eyed sheep." A voice comes from the other side of his phone. "Judging by how you didn't know that, you went out last night, didn't you?"

"That's none of your business~," the white-haired man says in a sing-song manner.

"Shut the hell up~," The one on the phone returns the sentiment. "It's not like I don't know practically every person you screwed in the streets with."

The elevator door opens to the main floor, and Gojo exits to head for the entrance. "Yeah, yeah. I will say this: I had a great time with them."

"You say this about everyone who opens their legs for you."

Gojo sucks his teeth. "Well, this one really had me enjoying myself from start to finish. They were fun to be around. Shit, they even made me drink alcohol."

"Really? And you didn't barf on the spot?"

"Fuck off, Suguru." The one from the phone line — now named Suguru — chuckled at the curse thrown his way. Gojo walks out to the parking lot and enters his car. The phone call is transferred to the car's Bluetooth when the engine starts. "I don't know...They were just great to be around, ya know? Haven't had that in a while."

Suguru hums, vibrating the car with the bass systems. "Think you wanna hang with them again?"

"Mmmmm, I'd like to."

The one on the phone chuckles. "Well, don't get to whipped. Especially since you promised to be at Shoko's beach house this month, we don't want you canceling on us again because someone scheduled you for a dick appointment."

Gojo smirks at the comment. "Yeah, I won't. You'll see me." A few seconds of silence follow through until Suguru asks another question to his friend.

"So? How was the sex this time around?"

With a twinge to his lips, Gojo snickers to himself from reminiscing about the events of last night.

"Man, let me tell you..."

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sturnioloszn · 1 month ago

Text

TRICK OR TREAT? - C.S

summary; your friend drags you to the sturniolo's annual halloween party but your slutty costume catches chris' eye and staring isn't enough.

warnings; smut, oral, praise, begging, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol.

a/n; this is my first post, so let's keep the hate tame, thank you. but if you enjoyed this, feel free to leave suggestions on other stuff I can write or if you want to see different content (texts, clips, etc) because I suck ass at writing lmaoo.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

"Y/n come onnnn, are you really going to make me go by myself AGAIN?" My friend complains as she flops down on her bed in front of me.

"You know parties aren't my scene, especially not the Sturniolo's parties," I say, leaning against the headboard. Every year on Halloween, the Sturniolo's throw a massive party at their house and it always details a shit ton of alcohol and drugs.

"It'll be funnn, just give it a chance, you haven't come to a party with me since high school," She continues to whine about the fact that she always has to go alone or find random people to hang with but it's not my fault we are polar opposites.

She continues her persuasion for another half hour and I finally begin to cave.

"Even if I were to go, I don't have a costume to wear," I say, shrugging my shoulders, knowing that she'll find something so that I'm forced to go.

"You can just wear what I wore last year, you'd look so hot," She replies as she moves towards her closet. She's rummaging through her clothes, pulling out random pieces of clothing and tossing them over her shoulder, causing them to scatter all over the room, making a mess.

"How slutty is it?" I laugh, acknowledging the fact that she loves going out half naked every Halloween since we were 16.

"Actually, not bad at all," She says, pulling out a leather mini skirt and a low-cut body con top. I look at the clothes layed out on the bed with a clear sense of confusion.

"What is this supposed to be?" I say trying to make sense of the plain, black clothes.

"A black cat, duh," She grins.

"Are you serious?" I ask, furrowing my brows to see if she's joking or not.

"Of course, it doesn't look like much now, but with a few accessories and makeup, it'll look amazing. You're just going to have to trust me,"

Ugh, I guess I'm going to this party.

I'm sliding into the tight-fitting clothes that I was given, and I could barely breathe. The skirt just about covers my ass and any movement at all would cause my ass to be on show completely. Whereas the top pushed my tits together, making it the focal point of the outift. Wow. I looked like a slut.

I paired the outfit with black mid-thigh tights, black platform heels, and gloves with claws attached at the fingertips. I went to show my friend who was currently doing her own makeup.

"What do you think?" I ask, already certain of her response.

"Oh. My. God." She says, turning around in her makeup chair to look at me properly. "If you weren't my bestfriend...smash," She speaks again, now giggling.

I laugh at her stupid commentary before questioning what to do for my makeup. She insists on doing it, so I wait for her to finish her makeup before doing mine.

Our costumes didn't really correlate considering I was a black cat and she was a slutty Wednesday Addams but regardless we did look hot.

After a few hours of getting ready, we were finally heading towards the door. We took an uber to the triplets house even though I would probably be able to drive anyway because I had no intention of drinking.

As the car pulled into the neighbourhood, you could instantly identify which house the party was being held at. Aside from the heaps of cars messily parked around, there were a bunch of people gathered outside, in front of the house, with red solo cups in their hands and music blaring from inside the house.

We stepped out of the uber and began to make our way to the door. I felt at least 4 pairs of eyes on my ass, I knew this skirt was going to be a problem. The party itself consisted of a bunch of sweaty and drunk strangers rubbing against each other.

I will never understand parties.

Before we got too close to the speaker, I felt someone move to my ear. "I'm gonna go get something to drink, what do you want?" My friend asked.

"Nothing, I'm not drinking," I say, also speaking into her ear since the music is already too loud.

"Oh, come on, you need to loosen up, it'll make the party more tolerable," She says as if she acknowledges the fact that being at a party sober really does kill the atmosphere.

"Fine, just get me something that's not too strong," I give in. I guess I am drinking tonight. Good thing we took an uber then.

After a few drinks and a couple of shots, I feel my walls come down, and I began to actually enjoy myself. I lost sight of my friend a while ago, but I know she's either dancing or getting laid. Either way, I'm happy for her.

As I'm dancing and swerving my hips to the beat of the music, I feel a pair of eyes burn into the back of my head. I turn around and see Chris leaning on the kitchen counter with a red solo cup in his hand. We make eye contact for a brief moment before I decide to turn back around and keep dancing as if his glare wasn't intimidating the fuck out of me.

A few moments go by, and as I rock my hips, I feel a presence come up behind me, and 2 firm hands grip either side of my hips. I shift my head to the side to see who it could be, and of course, it was him. However, turning my head seemed to be a mistake because it gave Chris the opportunity to dip his head onto my shoulder. This makes my heartbeat instantly spike.

I then feel his lips move to my ear, "You've been driving me insane for 2 hours straight,".

The atmosphere becomes thick, and I'm struggling to find the air to breathe. "What are you talking about?" I ask innocently, putting up a façade.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't act naive," he responds. I guess he's smarter than he looks. Before I have the chance to say anything else, I feel him speak into my ear again, "Trick or treat?".

What? What is he talking about?

"Treat?" I respond not really knowing what I'm asking for. I feel his smirk grow against my ear before he intertwines his fingers with mine and begins to drag me down the stairs of his house. We walk down a narrow hallway, and we reach a room. He puts a code in to open it and pulls me into the room with him.

I look around briefly and realise it's likely his bedroom. It looks like a normal guy's room; a king-size bed, a desk with a gaming setup, a closet, you know, the usual pieces found in a bedroom.

I turn to look at him, and he's looking straight at me as if he's trying to memorise my face.

"So, do you want your treat now?" He questions seductively as he steps towards me. I consequently take a step back, but I'm blocked from making any further moves when my back hits the door. I gulp at the fact that there's nowhere for me to run or hide.

"What's my treat?" I ask, my voice being barely louder than a whisper. His eyes are glued to mine, and it begins to feel a bit like a staring competition.

"Whatever you want," He smirks.

"Whatever I want?" I repeat slightly in shock, my heartbeat growing faster and faster. On top of my heart trying to escape from my chest, I feel my wetness beginning to gather in my panties. I mean, who could blame me. I was being seduced by The Chris Sturniolo himself.

He nods at my silly repetition.

All of a sudden, I feel a wave of confidence wash over me. This must be the alcohol resurfacing.

"I want your mouth between my legs," I say, looking at his face for a response to what I just said. A sly grin crawls up his face as his hand slides up to the side of my face and holds me gently as he guides my head towards his.

I feel his soft lips come in contact with mine, and I feel myself melt into his touch. The kiss was soft and tender, but it very easily transformed into one full of lust and passion. The hand that was cupping my cheek moves to the nape of neck, and his other hands begins to roam across my hip and lower back.

I take the chance to slip off my gloves and tangle my hands into his messy hair. Chris grows tired of kissing my lips and firmly tilts my head upwards to give him access to my neck. He delivers wet, open-mouthed kisses all over my neck and collar bone before I feel him find my sweet spot. I release a soft moan at his discovery, which just encourages him to suck and stimulate that area further.

As he continues to mark my neck, I feel his hands move to the back of my thighs before delivering a few taps. I obediently listen to his commands as he lifts me up from the floor, and I wrap my legs around his torso. In this new position, I feel his hard dick strain against clothed pussy.

Suddenly, my back is pulled away from the door, and I feel him carry me towards the bed. Surely, a few seconds later, I was placed onto his mattress. He was on top of me, still placing kisses all over me but slowly making his way closer to my tits.

Before his mouth even has the chance to reach my tits he pulls away. I shudder a little at the loss of contact, but my disappointment doesn't last long when I realise he has his eyes on the prize. He shifts down the bed so that he's now lying on his stomach, and I feel his breath on my inner thighs.

He places a gentle kiss along the inside of my thighs, and I buck my hips at his face, needing his lips somewhere else.

"You're so impatient, aren't you?" He sneers against my soft skin. I groan at his question because he knows where I want him, and yet he's everywhere, but where I need him most.

"Please, Chris, I need you..so, so bad," I plead, I don't care how needy I sound. I just need the relief. With every kiss he placed on my skin, the wetter I became, and it started to become unbearable.

He hummed at my pathetic begging, which caused jolts of electricity to spark all around my body. He finally gave in, and he pulled my panties to the side, taking in the sight before him.

My wet, pink pussy was displayed right infront of him and all he could do was smile. He carefully brought his middle finger to my slick folds, and he collected the wetness that had gathered, I moaned at this action, finally getting some relief. He then brought his finger to his lips and sucked it clean.

He held eye contact with me the entire time, and the only thing I could do was look into his lifeless, blue eyes as he pleased me. He finally sunk his middle finger into me, and the relief was intense. His long, slender finger pumped in and out rhythmically.

"You're so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you," He states almost disgusted by me. His comment made me throw my head back and just focus on his delicious movements. After a few moments, he added his ring finger to the mix, stretching me out further.

All of this was nothing, though. The second he lowered his mouth, I knew I didn't stand a chance. His tongue begins to expertly lick between my folds, collecting all of my juices. By now, I'm a breathy and whimpering mess.

"Chris, please," I plead again.

"What do you want, baby?" He asks, briefly pulling away.

"I want to come on your tongue," I breathe out.

This encourages him to work more efficiently, as he moves his mouth over my bundle of nerves before sucking at it. I can't help but moan at how good it feels.

His fingers are still pumping in and out of me at an amazing pace, and his mouth is working wonders. I feel my orgasm building up in my stomach. I tangle one of my hands into his hair to push him into me further. I need him as close as to me as possible.

At this point, I'm practically riding his face, but I can't help it from how good it feels. My legs begin to spam uncontrollably, and I know I was close.

"I'm so...~ah~...close" I moan, letting him know even though he can definitely tell.

"Beg to come," He says without slowing his movements.

"Please let me come...it feels so good, please...I'm begging you, Chris," I beg shamelessly. He's satisfied with my pitiful pleads and starts to move both his tongue and fingers faster. All that can be heard is the music from the party bleeding into the room and the wet sound of him pleasuring me. This pushes me even closer to the edge.

I feel my orgasm about to wash over me, and I know he knows because I feel my pussy squeeze around his fingers and my thighs grip his head, basically holding him in place.

"You're doing so good f'me," He manages to say while drowing in me, and that was the final straw.

I finally let go, and I feel my juices cover his mouth, chin, and fingers as he continues to ride out my high. I arch my back off the bed, and the most pornographic moans leave my mouth.

I start to recover, and his movements begin to slow. He eventually separates his mouth from my pussy and he slips his fingers out. He moves his body back up to my face, and he places soft kisses against my mouth, and I taste myself on his tongue.

"That was..." I begin to say but realise I can't find words powerful enough to describe how amazing that was. He just smiles lazily at me.

He then moves to lay beside me on the bed, I'm still catching my breath as I hear him wince. I look over and see him looking down. I follow his gaze over to where his dick is basically fighting it's way out of his jeans. He's rock hard. I bet it hurts.

I look over at him once again and smirk before moving off the bed and bringing myself to the floor between his legs...

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; should I do a p2 to this??? let me know, and I'll do it, I'm also taking requests, it doesn't have to be smut. I'm happy to write cute one shots or fluffs with Matt, Chris, or Nick. anyway, thank you for readingg, love you <33.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic

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milimeters-morales · 7 months ago

Text

gonna start posting completed chapters from my transfem miles fic (Becoming Myself In Truth) on here for fun :3 this is the first chapter

Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter 5 / Chap 6 / Chap 7 / Chap 8 / Chap 9

Wordcount: 4k+

Pairings: Milesganke, not the focus. Every other relationship in this entire fic is platonic and/or familial.

Warnings: References to Underaged Smoking (Not Miles)

When Scorpion shows up, freshly broken out of prison and with a newer, more hateful outlook on life, Miles isn’t in the mood. He just got out of school, yet he can’t even get five minutes before someone attacks him.

So, when the stinger manages to pierce his arm when he gets too close, Miles goes from “not in the mood” to “really not in the mood” and “ow that hurts” and “about to throw up” in a matter of seconds. Scorpion is his one of least favorite villains for a reason. Anyway, he needed to stop him like, yesterday.

It’s easy when Miles is rushing and using a bit more force than usual, because he really needs to get somewhere safe soon, and in no time at all Miles has Scorpion webbed to an alley wall with a bit too much webbing and is dry heaving on a roof of some random building. Exactly how he wanted his afternoon to go.

The good thing is that he doesn't actually throw up, but he’s still shaking too much, and his vision is too blurry to safely swing around and serve the city at the moment. Miles lays on his side to catch his breath, and lets himself rest a bit. He might not need an antidote this time if he’s lucky…

A pigeon lands in front of him. “Don’t poke my eye,” he tells it. It cocks its head and coos, and he takes that as an “okay”.

His stomach hurts from the dry heaving, and his head and legs hurt from the poison, but if he closes his eyes, he might fall asleep. That’s not something someone like Spider-Man wants to do, especially in the beginning of his patrol, even more so out in the open like this. He’s pretty sure he isn’t supposed to fall asleep after getting a ton of venom pumped into his body anyway, that just seems like a bad idea. Curling up into a ball and covering his ears to lessen the noise of the world until he’s feeling better enough to resume patrol, Miles zones out on the pigeon.

He’s vaguely aware that it starts moving a few minutes later, inspecting him and getting closer. It pecks at his shoulder, and he sighs. It pecks him again, probably curious about the material of his suit, and Miles swiftly grabs it and gently holds it in the air so it stops bothering him.

“You good, Spidey? I heard a bunch of police sirens,” a voice calls from above, most likely a tenant for the much taller building next to the one he’s currently resting on.

“Yeah, peachy,” Miles replies, not turning to face them. He zones back in again, just in case they need something, and to let the pigeon go. It flies off immediately, and he lets his arm drop back down (ow). There’s no doubt his mom will find out about the fight with Scorpion, and then she’ll talk to his dad about the risks and get him more worked up than he already would be— it’ll be a whole thing. He should text her before she does, but… maybe after the venom has run its course (and when he could actually see straight).

“You sure?” that same voice asks about… how much time had passed? It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds or minutes, right? It forcibly zoned him back in-- he didn’t even realize he zoned out again. It was closer this time, about twenty feet away (yikes, he didn’t realize that either), but it didn’t set off his spider-sense, so he didn’t tense up and prepare to run.

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he replies, not moving. He hears them sit down where they are, and is silently grateful that they didn’t get closer. Their heartbeat is calm, and they smell like they’re fresh out the shower with soap and lavender, with a hint of cocoa butter. It’s probably not too strong, but in the state Miles is in right now, it’s like someone is shoving his face in the display section of a beauty store. He doesn’t want to be rude and ask them to leave, though. Hobie would probably tell him something like, “Oi oi, you don’t own the entire place, I can’t believe you became a leech, shame on you!” and ruffle his hair. Wait, no, that’s Peter who does that sometimes, Hobie would just grab his head and shake it a little.

Miles can feel his train of thought starting to derail.

Hobie probably wouldn’t have even been in this situation to begin with, and he’d find a way to beat the hell out of the landlord of this building anyway. Miles can feel his breathing slowing down, the uncomfortable weight of his hearts and lungs in his chest… shit, he might need the antidote.

“What are you laughing about?” The person asks, once again startling Miles enough to make him flinch. His eyes fly open (when did he even close them?) and it feels like something cold was pressed on the back of his neck, traveling down his spine into his legs. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you. Can you… turn the sparks off?”

God, he didn’t even realize he was doing that. “Sorry, you’re fine,” Miles assures, “just one of those days, you know?”

“Yeah,” they laugh, “it’s all about the he says, she says bullshit.”

“…What?”

“Nothing,” they sigh.

They sit together in silence for a few more minutes until Miles feels like the venom’s effects have lessened enough for him to function like a normal human being and can finally stand up. He’s a bit shaky at first, and can feel the person staring at him, but he gets up! And that’s the important part.

“Stay safe out there,” the person tells him before he swings away.

“Thanks, you too—” Miles says, turning around to give his signature two-finger salute, albeit more lazy, but his brain stalls when he can’t tell if he should use mister or miss. They don’t look or sound obviously masculine or feminine, and they seem to find his blunder amusing from the way they smile, so he hurries and blurts out, “uh, boss.”

He swings away to avoid any further embarrassment.

——

When he returns to the dorms that night, he glances at the growing pile of schoolwork on his desk before running to the bathroom to take a shower. He’s pretty sure he needs to turn a few of those things in tomorrow, and he isn’t bone tired, so he’ll get some of that done. Hopefully it’s easy and will leave him with enough time to sleep.

After his shower he gets to work. The soft glow the lamp casts is just enough for him to see and right at the edge of “useful” before it becomes “annoying”, so he’ll use that instead of straining his eyes.

As he’s factoring a few equations, his thoughts drift back to the rooftop. That person was nice, he supposes, to stay by him until he felt better even when he said he was fine. Especially since they didn’t call an ambulance! No hate to them, he just feels bad wasting their time when he’d most likely be fine without their help. He’s getting a second wave of embarrassment from earlier when he couldn’t decide on what to call them, but he wants to see them again.

That’d be nice, he thinks.

Wait- he doesn’t want to see them again. Where’d that thought come from? And “that’d be nice”? What’s that supposed to mean? He probably just wanted to apologize for being so awkward back there. Yeah, that’s it. He wanted to apologize for potentially making them uncomfortable. They were probably polite about it out of nervousness, it’s what he would have done.

His work is very interesting all of a sudden.

——

He’s a bit sloppy one night during patrol.

His shoulder throbs as a reminder of a crowbar-wielding thief he didn’t dodge in time.

Otherwise, it’s a very successful night. Several crimes stopped before they could happen or get worse, multiple people walked home or accompanied as they waited for their ride home, and none of the bigger headaches-- sorry, villains-- none of them decided to show their faces. He did slam into a wall once, but nobody saw, so he actually didn’t slam into it, meaning his pride was intact.

A shout from directly below has him dropping down onto the ground. “Everything okay?” He asks the two women, one of whom he recognizes as one of his teachers, as they jump back from the storm drain.

“Yeah, dropped my fucking keys,” his teacher, Ms. Green, says. It feels a bit weird to hear a teacher curse so easily, but she’s not his teacher right now, he can’t focus on that.

The other woman groans and holds her head in her hands. “Don’t suppose you can get down there somehow?” she asks.

Hm. Maybe?

“Uh, I can try,” Miles says, wondering if he should really attempt it and get all smelly, “Can you see it from here? I might be able to just-”

Ms. Green rolls her eyes at the other woman’s question, “She was joking.”

Oh. Okay? Didn’t really sound like that, but it’s whatever.

“I’ll just… use the bus.” She sighs, frustrated.

“Would you like me to wait with you?” Miles asks, realizing he can see the keys from here from their shine. He could probably get it with a well-placed shot.

“No thanks,” Ms Green replies, before walking to the bus stop with the other lady.

Miles can definitely grab those keys. He just needs to…

With a small smile, he shoots a web at the keys through the grate, and carefully pulls them up into his hand. They’re a bit dirty, but nothing a thorough wash won’t fix. Probably. Hopefully. “Hey, I got them,” he begins to try and catch up with the women, but a large boom shocks him, and he crushes the keys in his hand like it’s clay out of shock.

“Sorry,” he hurries and says before swinging off towards the noise.

Unsurprisingly, it’s a robbery. Also unsurprisingly, he handles it quickly. Even more unsurprisingly, he managed to get grazed by a bullet on his thigh, because apparently it’s a cosmic rule that Spider-Man can’t have too many good things happen in a row. One is lucky, but two? Now you’re pushing it, buddy. Three is seriously his unlucky number. Grazes hurt enough, he doesn’t want to deal with the pain for longer than he has to.

There was a small fire he put out after getting the criminals a safe distance away from the site, and the smoke got all in his lenses and mouth even though he tried to work as quick as possible. Normally, he wouldn’t stick around, he’d probably be making his way back to the dorms to deal with the graze and to wash the suit, but the pain is making it incredibly difficult to even keep his eyes open to focus. He knows he’s teetering on the lamp, but he doesn’t want to be on the ground in case another threat appears.

“That hurt y’know,” he tells them to make them feel bad. He’s looking at the man that shot at him with narrowed lenses, but it probably isn’t really working to intimidate with his unsteady positioning. He might as well mess with them until he’s focused enough to keep swinging. “I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before…” He leans in a bit (bad idea, he almost falls completely off), pointing to the man. They’re all wearing baggy clothes, ski masks, and don’t have any visible markings on them-

That’d be nice.

The thought comes out of nowhere and makes Miles unstick, and he falls onto the ground below, much to the amusement of the thieves and the embarrassment of himself. He accidentally growls at them before swinging off. Pain be damned, he’s not sticking around after that.

——

Miles sits on the edge of the tub, watching as Ganke kneels on the ground next to him to clean the graze on his thigh. He feels a bit bad for waking him up with his clumsy return through the window, but Ganke assured him he wasn’t sleeping well anyway.

“Thanks again,” he tells him, “I know it’s gross.”

Ganke smiles tiredly. “A little grossness wouldn’t scare me away, or else I’d have transferred by now.” Pushing his glasses down onto his face, Ganke pats the area around the graze dry from the antiseptic. “Do you think you’ll need— oh, nevermind,” he’s interrupted by the sight of the dermis layer stitching itself back together. “Does that make a noise too?”

Miles nods, “Kind of like… cleaning your ear. That squishing sound, or how movies make ice sound when it’s spreading somewhere. But you can go back to bed, I can put the bandages on myself.” He leans over and grabs the package from near Ganke’s knee, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead as he opens it.

“Alright, wake me up if you need anything,” Ganke tells him with a yawn as he gets up and leaves the bathroom, “just not your homework. I’m not doing math before I have to.”

——

The graze isn’t healing.

Well, it is, but not as quick as usual, which means he has to deal with the itchiness that comes from a more natural healing speed. His mom, after not-so-subtly implying that it’s because he’s too stressed and should take a break, suggested wearing more loose clothes than usual when he can so his wounds aren’t irritated as they heal, and he’s starting to really appreciate the advice. But probably not for the reason anybody would expect.

He’s in the drinks section of a bodega, trying to remember what he was doing here in the first place. He’s distracted by his reflection in the door, and he feels… content. He feels good, really great, in Uncle Aaron’s old puffer on top of his hoodie and in his mom’s (don’t tell anybody) old baggy jeans. She said he could borrow them since she hasn’t worn them since highschool, and they fit surprisingly well and comfortably. Paired with the fogginess of the reflection, he looks just… vague. And he really, really likes it. This is definitely a new style he can get behind.

Someone clears their throat behind him, startling him into moving. He hurries to the candy aisle, finally remembering that he was doing a snack run for himself, Ganke, and his parents. Why Ganke hung back at home, he has no idea.

“Okay,” the cashier says with a tired drawl, “will that be all m… sir?”

Miles feels his eyes widen and a small, vaguely light feeling in his chest. He quickly pays for his things and leaves, ready to get back to his friends.

On the walk back, he wonders briefly if the feeling meant anything deeper than him finding it really amusing.

…

Probably not. They might have thought he was too young-looking to be called “Mister” or whatever.

——

“No, I just knew they’d be cheaper here and wanted to see if you want anything,” Miles says into the phone as he picks out a pair of baggy jeans. They don’t look anything like the ones his mom lent him, but they’ll do. They actually look like the ones those thieves from a week back wore, now that he thinks about it.

“Prolly don’t have my size,” Hobie replies. There’s the sound of metal clanging and a girl shouting angrily. “Any skirts you think I’d like?”

“All of them are old lady skirts,” Miles says, and catches a pair of elderly women sending him a disapproving glare. “but anyone of any age can wear them,” he adds quickly.

Hobie laughs, and there’s a loud screech of metal being pulled. What was he even doing? “M’the last person you needa tell that to. Grab three you like so someone else’ll be able to take them.”

Miles switches his phone to press between his shoulder and ear as he grabs a few sweaters and torn jeans. “I don’t wear skirts, though.”

“Wanna try?”

Miles feels his mouth go a bit dry. “Nah, my legs are like, suuuper hairy anyway. Wouldn’t that be…” he trails off.

“You sure? Hairy legs don’t hurt nobody. I don’t shave.”

Well that’s because Hobie doesn’t even grow enough hair to where it’s noticeable.

But Miles wasn’t really sure. Well, maybe he was? He didn’t really want to wear these skirts. People would make fun of him. Or be mean. He didn’t really want to deal with that right now, he just wanted some comfortable baggy clothes. But it’s not like he hates skirts, they can be super pretty sometimes! And his mom says they’re great for hot days. But, like… he won’t say that he’s never thought about it- and who hasn’t from time to time? Every guy thought about wearing skirts from time to time, and there are guys who do! Hobie! Well, Hobie’s not always guy, but-

“Miles?”

“Nah man, I’m good,” Miles finally answers, “You can just donate them if you don’t end up liking ‘em. These look like the Skirts of Theseus anyway.”

“Aight, be safe,” Hobie tells him, audibly breaking something. “Uh, don’t bring ‘em immediately, oil spilled everywhere. Damn, it’s getting in the seats.”

Oh, he’s working on that hunk of junk that he calls a car again.

“You too. Don’t get yourself killed working on that shitty Impala.”

“Piss off,” Hobie laughs before hanging up.

When he waits in line to check out, with probably three of the most disappointing looking skirts he’s ever seen, the people behind him give him a strange look. He clutches the clothes closer to his chest.

——

He doesn’t even make it fully through the door before his dad is telling him to go take a shower.

“You smell like gasoline and smoke, were you at a fire or with Hobart again?”

“Dad, he’s trying to quit,” Miles tried to argue, but his dad simply pointed to the bathroom.

With a quiet sigh, he trudged to the bathroom, which led him here, with his mother’s razor in his hand and staring down at his now hairless legs. He runs a hand down one, marveling at how smooth it is. Hobie’s words about hairy legs made him think of shaving his own, just to see what the hype is all about with all the other girls, and he was in the shower, so why not? It’s not like anybody would notice anyway since he wears pants most of the time, and he could always just grow it back if he didn’t like it. He’s honestly surprised he didn’t cut himself.

“Not bad for a first try,” he mutters, placing the razor back.

When he gets out and goes to his room, he can’t stop rubbing his legs together. They’re just so smooth and seem to glide against each other and on the sheets. Is this the real reason people shave? He can totally get behind this.

Hmm… has his dad ever shaved his legs? Miles has seen him shave his face a bunch of times, and hears his mom complain a few about hair being left in the sink. Other boys his age are already growing out their facial hair and talking about how they have to shave it sometimes, so do they shave their legs too? Do guys shave their legs just as much as women do, but just don’t talk about it? It’s probably another social rule Miles just didn’t pick up on, really.

Not something he really feels like dwelling on, either. It’ll just grow back anyway, and it’s like Hobie said, “hairy legs don’t hurt nobody.”

——

“Whoa there, little guy,” Miles chickles as he scoops up a puppy from the road before it can get run over. It growls at him, the rude little animal, but he knows it’s just scared. After he swings up to the roof of a nearby deli, he sees a small splinter in its paw as he’s checking it over. “Aww, poor thing,” he coos, swiftly pulling out the woodchip. Checking the collar, Miles discovers the pup’s name is Matrimony, which… is definitely a name!

Its fur isn’t dirty, it’s a bit round, and the eyes don’t have any crust like Miles has seen countless other tiny white dogs have, so maybe it escaped through a window or door while the owner was unaware.

“Hey Spidey, that yours?” A random woman wearing a dirty apron comes up to him and points at the dog. “That bichon frise?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answers, holding the puppy closer.

“Relax, I’m not taking it. Just wanted to check in, since the whole… other… rooftop thing. Strange how this happened twice at the same place, huh?”

What? He stands up to look at her better. “Sorry, we’ve met? It’s just been such a busy week, I don’t really remember!”

“No, it was— uh sorry, I don’t know why I expected you to remember that— you were on the roof holding a bird? And I stayed with you until you got up again?”

Oh. Oh! Shoot!

“Oh dang, I’m sorry! Thank you again for that, but yeah ma—” he stops himself from saying man, “my boss—” oh, that’s just weird, “this isn’t my dog. But you recognize it?”

The person smiles at his blunder (again) and shakes their head. “Just the breed. Cute little things aren’t they?” They slowly go to pet the puppy, but quickly back off when it growls. “I was never great with dogs anyway.”

“Okay, I’m going see if anybody lost this little guy,” Miles tells them. “Be safe out there, uh, what’s your name?”

“Kody,” they respond, waving goodbye.

“Be safe out there Kody!” He says with a smile he hopes they can hear, and climbs down the shop and begins asking around, not letting anyone actually touch it. If it were up to him, which it kind of is because he hasn’t found the owner but not really because he’s a good person, he’d take the dog to his dorms and raise it as his own with Ganke, and they’d alternate on who sneaks it home for the weekends. He’s heard from the upperclassmen that they’d have to do that with flour sacks as pretend-babies one day, so this would be good practice!

No, no. He’s getting ahead of himself. Last time he snuck a cat into his home, he had to kneel in the corner for an hour and all the chores everyday for a week. He hasn’t had to do that in YEARS, and he’s going to do everything to avoid that happening again.

There’s a dog park nearby, so he decides to check there in case the puppy somehow got loose of his leash or whatever was restraining him.

After nearly an hour of confused looks, adoring coos (not towards him, of course), and brief annoyed glances from several people, he comes upon a woman crying on a bench. She was dressed pretty fancy, wearing a tight pink dress, tights, a leather jacket, and crazy-looking heels, and her hair was in an elaborate updo. Probably not something to really wear to a place filled with energetic dogs kicking up dust and dirt, but who’s Miles to judge? He’s the one in a black spandex costume in the middle of the day, after all.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” He asks her in a soft voice.

Does she look okay? What a genius, Miles thinks to himself.

“Do I look okay?!” She sobs. “My baby is gone! I can’t find him anywhere!”

“A human baby? Or a dog baby? Maybe I can help you, or find people who can.” Miles sits down next to her, placing the dog on his lap and holding it there. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he adds.

“My- My dog, we were doing some socializing,” the woman begins to look over at him, but gasps at the puppy. “Matty!” She swipes the puppy away, startling him with her speed, and spins around while hugging it. She places kisses all over its head, smearing pink lipstick and her running mascara on its fluffy white fur. It licks her face happily, which might not be healthy. Can dogs ingest mascara?

“You found my baby! Matrimony!”

Oh! Cool! Well, not the name, obviously, but—

“Nice! Well, uh, I’m glad to have helped! You should probably get a tighter harness, ma’am.” Miles gets up, ready to leave, but the woman stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No, wait! Here, I don’t have my cash on me right now, but you can have these.” She removes her hand and reaches under the bench to reveal a purse that matches her dress, and pulls out a tiny black box wrapped in a tiny bow. “They’re earrings. I was going to wear ‘em, but I already have too many,” she flashes a bright smile at him and kisses her puppy again, “so take it as a thanks! From the both of us, because who knows what would have happened to my little baby if you hadn’t found him!”

It’s not registering as a threat, so they’re probably actually earrings in here and not something like a small bomb or tear gas. Or silly string. Ugh. “Thank you,” he says, not mentioning he doesn’t wear earrings, “hope you and Matty enjoy your day!” He walks away, rubbing his thumb over the ribbon.

What’s he going to do with these?

A/N: i’m not yet sure if i’ll keep posting all the completed chapters even when the entire fic itself is complete, bc i plan for it to be kind of long but. i’ll cross that bridge when i get to it

#my writing #transfem miles #miles morales #spiderman #spider man #atsv fanfiction #atsv #spiderverse #fanfic #wish i was more. used to this so i know exactly what tags to use #trans miles morales #<- WELL DUH. can’t believe i didn’t consider that one #m&m posts

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8bitsupervillain · 2 months ago

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Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 8 Matsuribayashi pt. 9

I sort of wonder how much of a fundamental difference there is between people who experience this story in its different forms? How does the manga fan perceive the events compared to the visual novel enjoyer, or the anime watcher? I know that at its base level it’s all the same story, but in the finer details, you know? I can’t imagine that the anime kept all of the stuff from the VN, or the manga, that some of it got trimmed for time or content. The manga also gets these silly little omake comics that can flesh out stuff in a slightly different way (also I know from conversations with @felixcloud6288 that there are differences in the order of events from visual novel to manga). I’m not trying to say that reading the manga, or watching the anime is a less valid experience than the visual novels, but I just wonder if anyone read the manga, then read the VNs and was surprised at how much more in depth it went, for instance. I just remembered there was also the light novel versions of these arcs, pretend I brought those up in my examples above. Just about the only way I view as an invalid way to say you’ve experienced the events of the series is to claim you know all about it cause you watched a youtube video of some dingbat misinterpreting the entire series. But that’s a whole different argument.

This does seem to be playing out, and reading like a textbook case of divine intervention huh? Also, just an amusing little anecdote, when this occurs there’s a brief lightning/thunder strike that happens in the game. This actually caused the game to hard crash, and completely lock up GOG Galaxy. It was pretty funny.

How much time do you suppose has passed since Miyoko’s parents died in the train accident? Based on zero evidence I assume it’s been at least a couple of months. That is a preposterous amount of time to remember a phone number that you were told once, especially when at the time there was the slightly more pressing matter of her dying dad to consider. But, again, fiction, the plot can’t happen otherwise. I try so very hard to not let myself get bogged down in minuscule details like this because it just seems like aggravating nitpicking. Besides, with a lot of the other plot elements introduced in this chapter it seems like microscopic potatoes by comparison.

This seems a rather grimly ironic statement considering what’s about to happen. Speaking of getting bogged down in the details, I think it’s somewhat miraculous that with absolutely zero information to go on other than her name that Hifumi will be able to locate the orphanage Miyoko is currently in. Considering the extreme lack of help she got trying to find a college professor in this post-war situation, it’s extremely lucky Hifumi wasn’t given the brush off from these government officials in finding a random child named Miyoko.

This is a surprisingly optimistic attitude for Miyoko to take, the idea that Hifumi would find her with any sort of quickness. Also a pretty pragmatic one considering all she’s been through, just got to wait out whatever her life will deal her until one day she gets free.

I have to admit, I wanted this to work out well for Miyoko. That this car was just a random driver who happened upon her and would deliver her to the House of Love and Mercy. Of course I was also mentally preparing myself for an extended sequence where the driver would wind up taking her back to the orphanage she escaped from. Not even malevolently just by sheer coincidence that’s where they wound up taking her. The last sentence really just drove it home to me that, no, that won’t be the case at all.

I never really bring up the idea of the translation taking liberties with the original text of the visual novels. But I can’t help but wonder if they took a bit of creative freedom with the naming of the punishments, or if that’s more or less what they’re called in the original Japanese. Drowned Ducky, and Mashed Caterpillar, you can reasonably assume what those probably entail. Splayed Piggy, to me at least, seems to imply a much more severe and higher level of violence than the others contain. Ducky, and Caterpillar at least imply you’ll be walking away with your limbs attached, maybe broken at worst in case of Caterpillar. Splayed Piggy suggests to me something on the levels of a gore flick. Probably just because the word splayed is never used to suggest anything other than getting cut open.

This is another thing that does have a sort of pay off, but it won’t be happening for another thirty odd hours from now. This attitude of having to just endure the torment and suffering until you’re brought to absolution does, absolutely come back up again. Albeit in a slightly bleaker, more depressing way, but again, that’s dozens of hours from now relatively speaking. Dozens of hours and who knows how many parts from now.

For my own amusement I had decided to take a look at the original 2009 translations for Higurashi. Not the whole thing, definitely not, but just the odd moment here and there.

I can see why they later decided to retranslate the names of the tortures at least. I’m a big fan of overly literal interpretations and names, but I can understand why they would think people might want something a bit more concise than a punishment of a pig with torn arms and legs. Also looking at it, and thinking about a different version of the 2009 translation I looked at I think they might have changed the names twice. Regardless, I can understand why they’d switch it to Splayed Piggy, it’s somewhat more vague, and can imply a deeper level of violence. Of course a pig with torn arms and legs certainly makes me think of the act of quartering.

#higurashi #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi playthrough

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windermeresimblr · 5 months ago

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13, 31, 24 for the ask game :)

13: from basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you?

I tend to spend a while planning, mostly because research is my favorite thing in the world. When I finally think I've got something good enough to post--this can be a while or I can be really feeling it and put it up in a minute--my process goes like this. First, if I write anything, I try to write with poses in mind. (I usually have some of yours in the mental picture files, haha.) Or if it's not quite pose-friendly, find a spot where I can take a photo and have it look naturalistic. I want my pictures to look like they're illustrating the story, and I'm not always successful! Second, it's off to hair and makeup for my Sims. And wardrobe, of course. Wardrobe is my favorite part. Oh, and set design, because I'm the one who insists on very niche topics to write about, and very few other people have the same "visions" as me. This can also take some time, because I'm horrendously picky. Then I have to remember how to take pictures in-game, because that always slips my mind. If I'm being good, I get a bunch of angles so that I can pick and choose. More often, I am not being good and I only take a few. After that, it's editing, and then fighting with Tumblr to put my text (I write in Google Docs or LibreOffice or the notes app on my phone) into the post without it looking weird. So this is usually at least three days; a week is closest to my high-production output. And if I get discouraged, it's usually in between stage 1 and 2.

31: drop some random trivia about your story.

Alasdair once had a storyline where he lived in 17th century Holland and grew tulips. I still think of that storyline from time to time. I didn't go through with it because I don't remember why. Like Alasdair, Ioluri originally started life in Create-A-Sim as a brunette, before I went for the bottle of hair dye. Wee Lassie, rarely pictured, got her name because I was imagining Alasdair being totally besotted with a runt of the litter. I suppose she has a pedigree name, but she is always and forever Wee Lassie to him. (And to me.)

24: are there any characters who remind you of yourself?

I think I put a bit of myself in all my characters, but Kolfinna--do you remember her? she got lost in the shuffle, poor thing--was closest to me because she has my hearing loss and speech impediment, as well as my stubbornness. She also inherited my habit of hiding plans until they can't be hidden anymore, which is what would have led her to cross paths with Alasdair. They would have had a lot of fun if I ever get back to her story. Alasdair is not like me at all, I think, but he got my bravado foolishness in the face of the supernatural. I have had precisely one possibly supernatural encounter, which was on a study abroad in Ireland at a tourist trap that was supposed to be a fairy circle. I thought the undergrads were being ridiculous when one of them said they 'felt a presence,' and so, being the grad student and the adult of the group, I dared the "Lords and Ladies" to come out and show themselves. (Yes, I did grow up stealing peeks from my grandmother's huge book of Irish folk tales, but clearly I did not learn anything from it.) When a fence cable across the pond we were at then vibrated like someone plucked it, I said, "that could be anything! if you're really there, make it stop!" And it did! Stone cold! As if someone had simply stopped and grabbed it! At this point we all screamed and ran to rejoin the group. I laid awake in the hotel that night wondering if I was going to be abducted, or if I was in the clear, and had I seen that or had I imagined things? Fortunately for me, I have not been stolen away by the Fair Folk just yet. Poor Alasdair not so much! (What they'd do with me anyways I don't know.)

#ask meme

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twistmusings · 4 months ago

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i just finished reading all your character room analysis that have been posted so far and I gotta say- I know its obvious but I really admire the effort put into all of these- you're really really good with details and that's is amazing :D it takes a lot of focus to do that (at least for me :'^ )

oh and that part where you said Floyd's organization style reminds you of how ADHD people are that's so true! as someone with ADHD myself I can point out other things about this like the snack shelf over his bed: people with ADHD have frequent mood swings and suddenly want to do things so perhaps there are times that Floyd randomly wants a snack so he doesn't have to get up to get one or open up a container just to open another container to get his snack he can just sit up and get one from the shelf thing and get one which is why its just kept outside so its not too much of a hassle

or he could be bursting with energy and cant sleep so he could eat to make himself sleepy again

probably doesn't work because there's defo a lot of sugar in it which makes it even worse so he DEFO pesters Jade at 3 am- they defo brawl a lot in the middle of the night LOLLLL

and and the places where the snacks are kept look very quick to open like the cookie jar is so easy to open and the ones next to it are probably plastic bags that you can just fold over to close it so another thing to prevent the inconvenience

his hung up uniform could've probably done by him and since he has no trash around could also mean that he might have been in the mood to clean his room then gave up halfway to wander off and do something else or he got distracted

yaaa that's it I hope that wasn't too much yapping have a good day :'DD

Hey, this is a great addition to receive! While I'm in the process of being diagnosed, I suspect I am likely ADHD (or AuDHD, it's hard telling atp) and I can certainly say the hyperfixation helps when it comes to getting these posts out. Sometimes it's a blessing and sometimes it's a curse, as I'm sure most neurodiverse people can attest to.

That being said, I agree with pretty much all of this! I definitely go through fits of inspiration to clean but I rarely ever actually finish a project once I've started as my attention doesn't hold out that long. I have to actively remind myself of things as well as I go that I started and then stopped.

I also keep snacks close at hand when I can, so I can relate to Floyd with his midnight snacking. If he's anything like how I am, there are just straight up periods where I forget to eat for hours at a time and want to have something on hand once it gets bad enough that my funky brain worms decide it can't wait anymore.

Personally speaking, I think it's interesting because in the canon text, we seem to get hints that Jade may also be neurodiverse in a different way than Floyd. He certainly seems to have hyperfixations, even though those don't show up quite as much in his bedroom as much as they do in his actual canon text - largely only in his terrariums. (The fact that Jade can recognize obscure mushrooms from across the world in the Harveston event when he would normally live under the sea is something I find telling - this isn't a hobby that he does surface level studying in. Then you put him next to Idia and Sebek and like... listen that may well have just been the most Neurodiverse event we've ever gotten.) I may do another examination of the character down the line once this is done where I examine their Vignettes and their dialogue in events later down the line, as that's a lot of re-reading to dedicate myself to, so I suppose one step at a time. I definitely think that would be an interesting thing to tackle at some point, and so much of why Jade is one of my favorite characters actually comes from his dialogue. He's one of the few characters that we actually get so much of his characterization from his dialogue in random events that are easy to miss.

I love examining canon. Of course people with headcanon the twins however they may, but I think it's worth seeing how realistic of a portrayal some of these traits the characters have are wrt real-life neurodiverse people. I never want to say for certain that I think a character is 100% neurodiverse considering I'm not the original author of TWST, but I certainly do think there's a reason a lot of my Neurodiverse friends who also play latch onto certain characters and see themselves in certain characters too.

I'm definitely glad that you enjoyed my post! I love getting messages like this, it makes me feel so appreciated for the work I do put into considering these little details. Thank you!

#answered;;#neadivana #not writing;;#I won't put these in the main tag because unfortunately people tend to get a little weird with Neurodiveristy headcanons #And I don't wanna attract any of that your way #But suffice to say that I certainly think that there are more than a few boys in TWST who seem neurodiverse in their handling in text

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hournites · 2 years ago

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beth gets her new suit, and rick tells her he really likes it (with heart eyes lol), yolanda and courtney notice and tease him about it when they realize his crush. post this past season my headcanon is that rick's crush on beth becomes supremely obvious to everyone but beth hehe

Flirting in Fashion

With the Chapels added to the fold, Beth offered to host some JSA meetings at her house. Barbara, thrilled with not having to deep-vacuum the living room of crumbs after brainstorming sessions or worry about broken vases from indoor incidents, championed the new JSA parental tag-team system. The Montez family were still adjusting to, well, everything, but Yolanda felt confident she wasn't getting shipped off to an out-of-state boarding school like her worst fears, so all-in-all, everything felt like a win.

Rick couldn't deny being accepted with open arms to Beth's family didn't give him whiplash, but the longer he pushed against the invitation to come after school and weekends or staying for dinner, the more he felt like they honestly missed him when he declined. He found Bridget warm and thoughtful and James, practical and supportive. Sooner than later, Rick was looking forward to spending time at the Chapel house. Not just because of Beth, but for her whole family.

Yolanda is at the door when Rick knocks at the front, letting him in before he can ask who else made it. Pat and James are talking about whether or not potato salad is a crime of a dish in the kitchen, and Courtney is draped across the vintage ottoman, texting like a madwoman.

But it's Beth that Rick's eyes instantly draw to, hovering around an odd-standing figure covered with a blanket in the living room.

"What's happening?" he asks Yolanda as he drops his bag by the door, expecting a run-down. There's no emergency or detailed agenda. There's Sylvester's brain that they need to plan for a rescue, but where a hypothetical floating brain could be hiding is still yet to be figured out. Jakeem has noped out of any tunnel exploring until his gorilla night-terrors end and Artemis is also refusing to go down there for understandable reasons and it's still unclear if she's actually on the team.

Bridget has chimed in that having a medical plan for what to do with the brain depends on the condition they find it in, which requires some more thinking in itself. These are mitigation strategies Rick's never thought of, but he supposes this is partly why they're having these types of meetings here at Beth's house. Though what any of these may have to do with a random statue jiving with the retro Chapel décor, he has no idea.

She shrugs at him. "I'm not sure. Beth says we were waiting for you before making some announcement."

"Announcement?"

Yolanda shrugs again, hands up in the air. "I'm just telling you what I know." She glances at Courtney and shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Do you mind telling her that leaving Cameron 60 texts without a single one back isn't a good look?"

Rick snorts. "Yeah, I'm not doing that. You know who could, though?"

Yolanda glares at him like she knows exactly who popped into his mind. Rick smirks and she rolls her eyes. "Fine," she grumbles under her breath, making her way to the ottoman. "I'll do it myself."

Beth is so engrossed with the statue thing that she doesn't even notice him behind her. Rick taps the shoulder of her cow-print bomber jacket. "Should I be worried? It looks like Frankenstein is under there."

She shoots him a look over her shoulder, stuffing school bus yellow measuring tape into her pocket. "You mean Frankenstein's monster. Frankenstein is the human that creates him, but no, this isn't of any mad-science concern."

"Then what is it? I've never seen it around."

Beth turns around and crosses her arms. "It's not ready yet."

"Is this part of the so-called announcement you have?"

Beth smiles. "Maybe."

"Alright!" Pat nods at the group assembled around. "The boys have a field trip to the honeycomb museum and Dr. Chapel is stuck in a surgery, apparently, but she gave us the go ahead to get right into business--Courtney put your phone down."

Yolanda sticks her palm out and Courtney begrudgingly drops her iPhone into her hand. Everyone else finds some seats on the couch or the carpeted floor.

Pat gestures to James Chapel, who takes the lead to start the meeting.

"Hello folks, glad to see you all here." He stands beside Beth, who is still fussing with the blanket covering the statue thing. "As some of you may or may not know, Beth's mother and I have been working very hard to provide Beth with an upgraded suit. We've decided to use this opportunity for some feedback before we go ahead with ordering it from one of my clients that specializes in this wear."

"It's just a prototype," Beth adds in, clearly nervous. "So anything can be changed. I get final say, of course, but don't be afraid to be critical."

Courtney sits up a bit straighter. "What's going to happen to your old suit? I liked it!"

Yolanda wrinkles her nose. "Court, the gloves are like five times bigger than her hands."

Rick backs her up. "I liked it too, but I think we can all agree that it doesn't really match Beth's style?"

"Oh, I like Chuck's a lot, don't get me wrong! But since combat mode was only a prototype, it isn't designed to be fully functional for all fighting styles, and that could be a bit of a problem." Beth looks at Courtney. "It's also not the cutest. You turned Sylvester's suit into a crop top. Why can't I?"

Rick leans forward, his eyes wide. "You want your suit to be a crop top?"

Yolanda covered her mouth with her hand to hide another undignified snort.

Beth raises an eyebrow at Rick with an amused smile. "No... I meant, why can't I make my suit my own?"

"Our own," James cuts in, a tad too proud. Bath pats his back. "Okay, dad. Our own."

"Well!" He urged her to pull the cover off what Rick now understands is a mannequin. "Go on!"

Beth bites her lip and bounces on her feet, then pulls the cover off with a flourish. "What do you think?"

Courtney and Yolanda both hop to their feet, hyping it up immediately.

"Woah!" Courtney says. "It looks badass!"

"Beth you're going to rock this, oh my gosh." Yolanda reaches out to touch one of the sleeves.

Cindy, slipping into the room fashionably late, stands at the door with a Starbucks in hand. "Huh," she says, tilting her head at the costume. "Not bad, Chapel."

Rick stays seated as the girls gush and Pat starts analyzing it aloud from his experience. He's not sure what he was expecting but this is far from the suit upgrade he had in mind. For one thing, it is isn't earth-toned and bulky anymore. The burgundy is gone from the jacket, replaced with a sleek yellow breast plate that goes up to the neck. The gloves are no longer suede tan, either, but the same new honey-mustard colour with zippers. The breast plate sits over a tunic, complementing the primary colour with black sleeves and legging type pants that are tucked into boots that end at the mid-calf. A thin stripped black belt criss-crosses over the hips with an emerald Dr. Mid-Nite crescent moon emblem in the middle, matching another jewel-toned brooch right where the suit ends at her neck. The green cape is brighter, silkier, repurposed to flair out around the waist like an outer skirt, hiding more pockets for the fanny pack Beth used to wear. But the most notable difference is the cowl. Or the lack of one. At the top of the mannequin stand sits the goggles around the eyes and an emerald head band with the option of a hood draped against the back.

Beth says, "I'm not sure about the belt. It might be a bit unnecessary, tough to get on and off, and I do really miss the burgundy, but maybe I'll just add that to the boots." She turns to Rick, who still hasn't said a word. All he can think about is how similar the suit looks like his cape, and then he can't help wondering what his cape would look like, trimmed short to match her costume.

He clears his throat when Yolanda nudges his shoulder, stammering out, "You designed this?"

"Why, is it tacky?" Beth and Courtney both look back at him, Beth biting her nail with concern.

"No! No, it looks great."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's really...It suits you. Try it on."

Beth glances between Rick and her friends, a little put on the spot. "Right now?"

"I mean," Rick adds quickly, feeling embarrassed at the sudden attention everyone in the room is giving him, "You won't know how easy it is to get into until you do, right?"

Pat shoots him a thumbs up. "Great thinking, Rick. We won't know for sure of any potential design flaws until we see it in action."

Beth smiles, glancing at her dad to see if that's okay. James says sure, and then they are hauling the mannequin upstairs to Beth's room for her to get changed.

"Okay," Courtney announces to the room, like she's just witnessed the greatest project runway entry ever. "I totally see where Beth was coming from. Her other costume was old. This one is hot!"

"It's not as hot as mine," Cindy quips, taking another sip of her drink.

Yolanda sizes her up, a hand on her hip. "At least Beth's dad actually cares about her to make the suit and not use it as a murder graduation present."

"Hey, now." Pat steps between the two, ending any possibility of a cat fight.

"Beth always looked good," Rick argues. "Don't make it sound like she looked bad before."

"We're not saying that." Yolanda rolls her eyes. "We're just voicing that this one is clearly better."

Cindy is still staring Yolanda down when she says, "This was a bad idea. If you're all fine sitting here watching Hourman drool over Dr. Mid-Nite's couple costume design workshop, that's your prerogative. I have better things to do." She sets her travel cup down on the coffee table to leave. "Miss me or don't, I guess."

Rick's palms begin to prick with sweat. He wipes them against his pants hastily, adamant to clear the air. "What is she even talking about? All I said is that it suited her?"

Courtney laughs.

He frowns. It feels like she's laughing at him for some inside joke he doesn't get. "Court--"

"Okay!" Beth's voice floats from upstairs, quieting them all. "Now remember that the material is flimsy because it's not the real stuff yet!"

"Enough with the excuses, it's going to look good. Get your ass down here!" Yolanda calls up the stairs. James belly-laughs, and Rick cracks an excited smile, leaning forward in anticipation of the reveal.

She emerges at the front of the living room, a gloved hand against the doorway. "Did someone call the doctor?" She steps in, flashing a pose.

Courtney's jaw drops. "Shut up, it's perfect."

Beth twirls around and flexes her arms out, testing the elasticity of the sleeves.

"I have no notes," Yolanda agrees.

The hood is down and she's not wearing her goggles, just sporting the hairband. Her hair stands out, bold and beautiful, and it is as Rick makes the observation that he pin points what makes the suit so great. She's not camouflaged into the background. There's no way she'll be lost behind the white, blues and purples of the Wildcat, Stargirl and Hourman suits. Her shoulders roll back with a confidence as she moves around, and the verve of her hair brings life to Dr. Mid-Nite that the other costume confines, all emphasizing that she's never been a static role. The entire look oozes Beth's personality, and Rick can't stop smiling.

Yolanda snaps a few pictures on her phone so that Bridget and Barbara won't miss out.

"Is it comfortable? Can you sit in it?" Rick asks her, remembering what's important. "I really like it," he adds.

She nods, grinning. "The belt is fine. It needs to be adjusted a bit, but if we're in a pinch, I can ditch it."

"Or I can help!" he offers.

"Thanks." Beth appears genuinely touched. "That's sweet, Rick."

Yolanda and Courtney share another look.

Pat starts bringing up questions about the suit's supposed thermo controls and what other smart tech Beth's dad has planned as added features in the suit. Beth removes the breast plate, demonstrating how it works to protect her vital organs. "Mom thought it would be helpful in light of the Artemis arrow thing, or if I'm bending down helping someone medically so I'm protected from the back."

Rick takes it from her, inspecting it eagerly. "How does it come on and off so quick?"

"It's magnet tech," Beth supplies. Rick hands it back and Beth passes it along to an interested Courtney.

"This is some futuristic gladiator shit," she says, giving it a curious shake.

"Court."

"Gladiator stuff."

"I think it's best to get it off before I accidentally rip something." Beth turns around in front of Rick. "Do you mind unzipping the back?"

Rick tugs on the zipper, it's jerky and requires him to press his hand against the small of her back so to not get the mouth of the zipper stuck in the fabric. "Sorry," he mutters as an unknown feeling rises to his chest. Once the task is done, he steps away and Beth rushes back upstairs. Her dad's phone rings, and he excuses himself out the door to take the call on the porch.

Pat says, "I think this was a real productive session."

The teens nod and he checks the clock. "Court, I'm going to head back home to start cooking dinner. Are you going to come with me or hitch a ride with Rick?"

"I can't. I'm staying here for dinner," Rick pipes up. He's pretty certain that there might be a suit fitting encore when Bridget gets home and he doesn't want to miss that.

Yolanda eyeballs him. "Courtney can walk with me, Pat."

"Alrighty." Pat salutes. "See you at home, Court."

"Cindy is right, you know." Courtney sidles up to Rick, sitting next to him on the couch. "You like her. We're talking suuu-per mega crush."

"You jumped at the chance at helping her get ready," Yolanda teases. "Scoring all the brownie points you can get."

"That's called being nice!"

"There's being nice and then there's the heart eyes motherfucker gif face." Courtney pulls it up on her phone, shaking her screen at him.

He pushes her arm out of his face. "I don't look like that."

But then Yolanda and Courtney are giving him twin Thor Ragnarok meme squinty eyes and he's suddenly seriously concerned.

"I looked like that?!"

Rick groans, falling back against the couch and burying his face with one of the throw pillows. "Whatever."

"There there." Courtney pats his knee. "It's not your fault that deep down you're a lover not a fighter." She cracks up before the ridiculous sentence is even out of her mouth. Rick wants to drive the Mustang into a ditch.

"It could be worse." Yolanda flips a braid over her shoulder. "You could be crushing on Cindy."

"You mean like Jakeem?"

"He's not over that?" Yolanda purses her lips. "Poor kid."

"I don't know..." Courtney says. "You don't think maybe one day when he's older, like, much, much older... She might give him a chance?"

"Not a chance in hell."

"Absolutely not."

"What are we talking about?" Beth asks, stepping into the room in her previous outfit.

Yolanda looks at Court who looks at Rick. He sits up, attempting to look somewhat normal. "Uh. Jakeem's crush on Cindy."

"Why? I thought that was old news."

They all look at Rick.

"Uh..." He stalls. "Just because."

"He finds it relatable," Courtney coughs under her breath, but thankfully Beth doesn't hear.

James walks in then, pocketing his phone and Rick pivots the conversation as smoothly as he can manage, "Mr. Chapel, don't you think Jakeem could use a costume too? All he has is a hoodie. That pen's going to get lost."

Her dad lights up. "Great idea, son. Bridget's getting pizza. Let's talk concepts at dinner, are you girls staying too?"

Yolanda hauls Courtney off the couch just before she says yes, saving Rick from her meddling and general messy.

"Sorry Mr. Chapel, we've got to head home right away."

"We do?" Courtney says as Yolanda drags her by the elbow. "But Pat said--"

"Bye, Rick! Awesome suit, Beth. Thanks Mr. C!"

Beth's dad waves at the girls with a chuckle. "You two get home safe now."

"We will!"

Beth turns to Rick after tossing Cindy's lipgloss stained cup into the trash. "Not so Frankenstein's monster after all, right?"

He blushes when his stomach flips at her pleased smile. "Not at all." And screw him, but Rick immediately thinks Beth would rock the costume for Frankenstein's bride.

#hn fic #hournite #rick x beth #fluff #stargirl #ask #anon

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