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muntitled · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

Summary: "Jesus, dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party?"

Warnings: Hyper Feminine!Reader, Language, Fluff, Jealousy, Humor, Reader has a crush, Confessions, Teasing, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Dom!Hazel, Humping, Grinding, Masturbation, Pillowprincess!Reader tbh, Thigh Riding, Public sex, Risky Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Power Play, Ownership Kink?, Praise Kink, Slight!Hate sex ♡

Part two >

Hazel Callahan was rarely included into anything vaguely external, she would venture to say that she was even rarely included in her own thoughts. Therefore, infuriatingly, painfully aloof Hazel thought nothing of the invite you had presented to the entire group at Fight Club.

Why should she feel special?

Things like this seldom warranted her definite response, so when all the girls had affirmed their attendance, Hazel was... discombobulated to find a silence of anticipation growing pregnant in the gym.

It took a sharp stab in the ribs from PJ for Hazel to swing her head back into this specific reality in the space-time continuum. A reality in which you sat adjacent to her in a circle, legs crossed dainty underneath you to better accommodate the neatly pressed pleads in your pink skirt. There was nothing remarkably profound from you carrying yourself like the pretty princess you thought you were, what strikes Hazel as odd, however, was the look of expectancy in your dark eyes- a look you directed at… her?

"What?"

"You're coming? To my slumber party tonight?" you reiterate stifling the need to pat down at your braids corralled into a pink headband. You are basking under the scrutiny of her gaze but you also happened to suffer under it too. The longer Hazel watched you with furrowed brows, and her knee propped up to her chest, the longer you keened forward as if desperate to hear her say-

"Of course she's coming," PJ once again injects herself in between the two of you. "We'll all be there," You're perhaps nodding at PJ and Josie but your eyes are unable to leave the absolute prison that Hazel has them in. She does nothing except nod as well, before leaving you to your clique who all sit prettily under clouds of Chanel number 5.

The interaction replayed within the confines of Hazel's head throughout the rest of the school day. Right up until she finds herself, nestled in a car with Josie and PJ, taking the short drive in the more affluent neighbourhood from her place to yours.

"So, Hazel," the lascivious tone in PJ's voice already has her rolling her eyes as the car slows before an egregious house. "Are you ready to lose your virginity tonight?"

"Jesus Christ-" Murmurs Josie before PJ assumes what is expected to be your tone of voice- only its a hyperbolic and a higher in pitch reenactment of the real thing.

"Oh Hazel! I'd really like for you to come to my slumber party tonight!" All three girls leave the car as PJ continues her comedic display of seduction as she brushes up against Hazel and says "I really want you at my slumber party."

Hazel laughs as PJ grabs a hold of her upper arm, exposed from her open black button up and tank top. "You're coming right?" PJ sobers up as she says, "That's hot girl speak for "You're going to be cumming inside me-"

Josie does not keep her eyes off the approaching house as she interjects with, "Girls can't cum in other girls"

"Wow!" Hollers PJ, "-And here I was thinking you actually believed that girls can do everything that guys can do-"

"Wait," Hazel's eyes are on her shoes as she readjusts her tote bag and says, "You think she actually wants to like... fuck?" She lowers her voice drastically in the wake of making it up to your front door as she bends and reiterates, "Like actually fuck me?"

There is, frankly no time for Hazel to get a firm response on such a discombobulating thought because you quickly open the front door, and your skin is glowing everywhere from being completely exposed in your pink satin shorts and matching camisole set. Your hair is still loose as it frames your face- your round and constantly smiling face. Why had Hazel never noticed you until now?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she negated the possibility of forming a crush on you because you appeared so painfully… straight?

But here you are, smiling at her and only her. Your eyes had been bright at the sight of Hazel and her button up and how outrageously attractive she looked in a tank top but your smile dims significantly when you peer down at PJ'S hand still wrapped around Hazel's forearm.

"H-Hey," Said Hazel, with her voice that reminded you so vividly of a midnight snowstorm,

"Hey," you replied back, quickly turning away. Your mood had already been cemented for the rest of the evening. Despite it being your slumber party, you let your best friend host while you continued to wallow in the regret of your own unshakeable feelings. You hated that PJ and Hazel were very clearly a couple, but what you hated perhaps more, was that you still wanted her. You stole longing glances at her in your space, lazing on your bed while the rest of you sat encircled on the floor in sleeping bags. Hazel completely hijacked your entire brain throughout all the games and activities.

You had lost yourself in her presence and that only kicked up a notch when you felt a pair of forearms lazily splay onto your shoulders from above. With your bum still on the floor and your back against the foot of your bed, Hazel had decided to humour her turn in Truth or Dare. While she answered, she let her legs frame your body. So that it swung over the side of the bed, perfectly framing your sides.

Breathing had been impossible. So impossible in fact, you didn't know it was your turn until it took Hazel bringing her lips down to your ear. Your nerves had been shot to hell as she whispered, "Dove, it's your turn."

You cursed this idea and you cursed this wretched slumber party.

Luckily, It passed by in a significant blur that left you still riding on the high of being in Hazel's personal space until bedtime at 1am. While the girl's drifted into their own sleep, your eyes remained on the pink chandelier hanging from your ceiling while you cradled your stuffed frog to your chest. No matter how hard you try, sleep is a difficult thing to come by. You are left to your thoughts of the girl sleeping on the floor, while gentle snores sounded in the room.

"Fuck," you almost instinctively mutter as you find your hand drifting past your navel. You spread your leg ever so slightly before pushing your hand into your underwear. The quicker you came, the quicker your body could finally be allowed to slip into actual slumber. It sounded like a solid plan, and you had already taken to grinding your wet cunt against your hand- until it all went to hell and your duvet is being pulled slightly off of you.

You're quick to remove your hand and grab a hold of your covers as your eyes snap open to stare at the silhouette above you. Hazel's hair is a spectacular mess on her head and her skin shines orange from the glow of your salt lamp.

"Let me in," she whispers, not really waiting for a response before she's forcing herself into your covers, scooching you on the right side of the bed.

"What are you-"

"Shh," it's embarrassing, how quick you are to snap your mouth shut and heed her commands. Hazel's stomach warms significantly at how docile you are and she smiles as she says, "I cant sleep and I had the vague suspicion that you couldn't either." Hazel says, propping her exposed forearm under her head as she looks up at your ceiling. Her button up is discarded somewhere in the room, leaving her in basketball shorts and a tank but you're not complaining. Not at all.

"I told myself I'd be more intentional with my actions, and my actions are telling me to kiss you right now, but my feelings are telling me you might not want that." You're corraled into stark and naked shock as you watch the girl you've always wanted, confess to you in your bed. It feels unreal. The longing stares, the hours you've spent writing amatuer poetry in your notes app about her, the amount of times you made yourself cum with her heavy on your mind.

This does not feel real.

"Jesus," your voice is uncharacteristically coarse as you rush to say, "Dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party."

Hazel appears stunned as she watches you with wide eyes, "Well yeah," Says Hazel, "but… do you know what it means?"

"I've liked you since junior year," Your confession has her mind going hazy as she tries to recall all the subtle hints which she effortlessly discarded as you just being kind.

"God, you're such an idiot!" You release a chuckle that momentarily stirs a sleeping girl laying closest to the bed in her sleeping bag.

"Shh," Hazel's finger is pressed softly to her lips, you nod slowly only able to process mimicking her own actions.

"What were you doing just a second ago?" She says, swiftly removing the attention from her and her stupidity, replacing the atmosphere instead, with something much more dangerous. There's a difference in her whispers, a tone that has you melting into the covers as you unconsciously squeeze your legs shut. In this moment, she could ask anything of you, and you would simply comply. The silence stretches like honey between the two of you, and Hazel watches with doe eyes as you sink into your shame.

"You don't have to say anything." She finally whispers back, freeing you from your internal damnation but not completely letting you off the hook as she continues: "Just move your hips for me." It was an aggressively passive instruction that exploded a bundle of charged electricity between your legs. You are trapped in a distinctly uncomfortable position between wanting to comply, but wanting to be stubborn. The discomfort of these emotions are not entirely unwanted.

"Do you want me to show you how?" There is a challenging glint in her eyes that simulates the peroration of whatever the hell this is that you are both about to do.

This non-relationship which is so innately a relationship.

"Yeah." Your voice rocks with the signs of an oncoming tempest alerting your body to the possibility of something very, very exciting on the horizon.

Time and space seems so few and far in-between as Hazel keeps you arrested in those blue, endless hues. Examining her features keeps your wanton, unwinding nerves chaotically at bay. There is an intense exchange of control as Hazel shuffles closer, until her head is resting on your pillow and your both breathing into each other's parted lips.

She almost restlessly sets her palm onto your body, her hands on a slow path down your hips. It gives you a sliver of control knowing that bubbling behind her dilated pupils is a need that haunts her just as greatly.

"I'm gonna show you, okay?" She does not need to repeat herself but you recognize her words for what they are: masked behind the excitement and the charged atmosphere, is a real, and genuine need for consent.

The very moment you hopped over this threshold, you would forever be locked in a world anew. There would be no take backs. Your actions would forever be transcribed on the sacred tablet of our shared history.

"Are you going to show me, Hazel?" Desire is seated comfortably on top of your lungs and you speak only in soft pants, "Because it really feels like you're all bark and no bite."

There is a flash of excitement that sweeps momentarily over her lidded lustful gaze.

Her hands are much more sure of themselves as they lock into your sides, her fingers digging rudely into your silk pyjama bottoms.

"Shouldn't you be taking those off?" You ask cheekily.

A scoff slips through her lips as she shifts just a tad closer, her face now centimetres from yours. "You're awfully needy." Hazel whispers, "It's incredibly embarrassing."

What would prove to be even more embarrassing is the jarring way your hips stutter the very moment those words leave Hazel's lips. Your accidentally whorish slip up might have gone unnoticed were it not for the annoying fact that her right leg was seated quite cosily between your legs.

"Shut up," is all you manage to say - a desperate attempt at scrambling for your dignity crumbling in the bed between you.

Hazel laughs airly. Slowly, her hands at your hip begin to move, subsequently allowing your hips to move. A soft and slow moan passes through your lips, drowned out by the sound of sleeping girls as your eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Hazel's lips are fully touching yours now, "Look at me." She could've never anticipated how the fucked out look in your eyes could ever make her feel. Your eyebrows are curved, as if you're in pain as you hump slowly against her thigh. The coarseness of the silk and her thigh pressing against your aching cunt… it makes everything feel so overwhelmingly real, unmarred by great expectations. The thump of her heart underneath your palm is so incredibly real. The beads of sweat growing pregnant on her forehead are real. Her dry, parted lips pressed against yours is in fact real.

"What are you thinking about?" It strikes you then that you had been a muddled, mindless haze, humping against her thigh with an urgency.

"I'm thinking about you." You reply, truthfully.

"Good things, I hope?" It is so unimaginable, the way her voice is able to remain so incredibly steady while yours is as shaky as a walrus thumping across an icy lake.

"I don't suspect anyone has ever had a single good thought about you." You shoot back and the fingers gripping your hips lock tighter, nearly prompting you to apologise.

The only other option left for you to exhaust is clamping your mouth shut as Hazel's hand assumed a much more aggressive administration. She grips on the plush skin at your sides with an unnecessary hardness, as if she wanted to tear in into you.

"See, I was gonna fuck you," it is absolutely shameful, the whimper that escapes your lips, "But now I'm gonna make you hump my leg like the slutty little girl you are." Before you could scold her, or perhaps violently disagree, rudely, before your cries of indignation could ever be forced out, Hazel is lifting you up from your side of the bed, her head shifting until her brown curls cover your pillow fully.

She turns onto her back, never releasing eye contact as she forces you down so you're straddling her steepled knee. The new position leaves you searching for a new anchor.

"Your hands are pushing down on my hair-" she grumble-whispers.

"If you'd let me finish faster that wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Hazel's response, in lieu of her thoroughly unimpressed face, had been to grind her thigh further against your core, eliciting a wanton, broken moan into the air.

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Dove." Her voice is gravel, "Wouldn't want anyone seeing how much of my whore you are, would you?" The sound of your own moans slam back into you as you press your pussy incredibly closer to her leg.

"Imagine what they might think of you? Our little star pupil getting herself off on my leg? Is that really all it takes to please you?" Staying quiet had become an unimaginable feat, a mountain that becomes even more difficult to surmount when Hazel's eyes search frantically over your crippling form for a trigger that might send you over the edge.

You couldn't begin to imagine how powerful she must feel watching your hips move wantonly on her thigh while your hooded eyes displayed desperation.

You feel so thoroughly hers, a previous existence in which you went without her hard ministrations guiding you to orgasm felt completely in vain. You want nothing more than to be so incredibly good to her, and the thought that she might want the same way sends you to an early grave.

"You're doing so well, Baby. Keeping going." An embarrassing wave of pleasure ripped straight through your spine leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. There is no mistaking that your reaction to her praise and her validation had not gone unnoticed.

Your pussy is completely soaked against her leg, burdened with the knowledge that it wants something but it didn't exactly know what.

"I need you," you whisper. Before your own shame might wave away the pleasure, you are delighted at the moan that slips through Hazel's parted lips.

You had been so thoroughly enamoured by your own pleasure, you had not stopped to consider hers. The pillow princess stereotype brought with it a wave of shame as you looked down and found her hips stuttering slowly against yours.

"I'm right here, Dove."

And you both began to melt for each other. Your legs are tangled in one another while her thigh is pressed against your clit at the same time your thigh is pressed between her legs as well.

You are pleasantly surprised when you begin to feel the fabric of Hazel shorts moving against your own legs slotted in between her. You didn't have to picture how gloriously lecherous it might have looked, using each other so blatantly to fulfil a need that had begun simmering since forever. "Oh fuck, you're so pretty," her hand finds purchase against your breast, tweaking your nipples until they hardened against the camisole while her other hand was comfortably gripping your jaw, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

"You don't even know how perfect you look right now," you did not speak a word of a lie. Watching Hazel's long and domineering form writhing underneath you is a mental image you wish to keep stored in your chest of sacred memories forever. It is discombobulating, watching someone so used to walking so tall and unbothered, being made a complete mess underneath you.

You never wanted this moment to end.

"I want you to kiss me." She croaks, despite already bringing your face close to hers by the strength of a single grip. Her eyes search yours for something. You only hope that grinding yourself even faster against her leg is a testament to whatever it is she might've been looking for. Soon, her lips crash onto yours. When Hazel Callahan kisses, she kisses sloppily and disastrously as if she wanted to swallow you whole before you ever thought of escaping. Her lips are all encompassing, her tongue is restless, pushing itself into your mouth with avid determination.

You moan softly into her mouth. A sound she appreciates greatly given the way her hips began to move against your thigh with a matching ferocity. Her hand slithers along your back, until she cups a handful of your ass, dragging your pussy once again against her, at her desired pace.

Rough. Arresting. Frantic.

"You're being too loud," She sighs, breaking away from your lips to trail them down your neck. "You're being too fucking loud-"

"Fuck, Hazel I'm close-" Your legs are locked against hers but the hand on your ass keeps your hips moving by proxy. "I'm so close."

"You're gonna cum for me, Dove?"

"Oh God, I love it when you call me that-" There is an embarrassing pool of wetness accumulated between your legs, dripping through your shorts and onto her skin. She is equally as wet and that fact only spurs you on.

"I need you to cum for me, baby?" Her stuttering hips told you her own release is dangerously close, sitting on the horizon. Perhaps your orgasm had bled into something prideful, her need to make you cum first caused her to delay her own release.

"You're fucking unbelievable." You sigh with troubled realisation.

She uncovers herself from your chest, panting heavily without her hips ever stopping. "You're gonna cum first, okay?" She nods, persuading you to mimic her movements because despite everything, you are putty in her hands.

"Okay."

As she kisses you once more her hand travels back to your now exposed boob. Between your kiss, Hazel had somehow managed to haphazardly lift your camisole enough to expose your breasts.

A straggled sound leaves the back of your throat as your orgasm crested.

She succeeded in making a mess of you. Your hair had been set free, braids spilling like wild snakes down your torso.

"Oh God, oh fuck-" a hand slaps over your mouth. Hazel's eyes are wide as she continues to guide your hips to release.

"Such a good little Dove, aren't you?" Your eyes are blown with stars and pixie dust as you nod drunkenly. She's humping your thigh and you're humping hers and soon the orgasm sneaks up on you, stealing your breath right from inside your lungs. Your strangled moan is muffled by her palm.

Her eyes take it all in with a very certain hunger, drifting from watching her own hips grinding your thigh, to the choked expression of utter euphoria splashed against your face.

"Fuck, baby." Her Eyebrows knot as her breathing picks up. The pressure visibly building across her face is nearly enough to send you back into your pool of euphoria.

"Oh fuck- oh baby," The wave of pleasure that courses through her is violent and incredibly validating. It is you who had gotten her to this point, humping your leg so desperately as if it might be the only thing she could ever hope to achieve. For someone who had built such a notable reputation for always mainting an I-dont-give-a-fuck mentality, this feels like an immense achievement for you.

Once the smoke clears, and Hazel finds herself back on planet earth, the relics of her euphoria register as intermittent aftershocks. The dawn of what you had just done begins to settle and almost instinctively, you revert to your teasing.

"How nice of you to finally join us," you are still hovering above her, her long neck craning to look at you.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone who squeaks when she cums."

The dampness between your legs is a reminder. "You're gonna learn to take just as much as you give sooner or later," You don't miss the hint of a promise thinly veneered along that whisper. Choosing to ignore the fluttering in the pit of my stomach at the sound of it alone, you climb off of her and back to your space on the bed.

"What's its name?" Hazel asks, peering into the darkness to bring your stuffed frog back into your arms. "You strike me as someone who gives their stuffed toys names."

You're still out of breathe as you reply, "Texas,"

She cracks a smile at that. Before you can finally drift off, a hand slips across your hip, trailing over your torso before brushing over your breast and staying there. "I'm gonna buy you one...I wanna watch you hump it like you just did my leg okay?"

All you're able to do is nod.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fluff #bottoms x reader #bottoms fanfic #bottoms movie

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milkywaydrabbles · 1 year ago

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*whispers* number 9, breeding with adrian tepes

A/N: screaming into the wilderness Alucard wants a baby so bad he fr goes crazy I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

CW: smut, mating press, pet names (love, sweetheart), breeding, talk of pregnancy, just filth tbh

"F-fuck, Adrian, wait pl-please...!" You panted, clawing at his biceps. Alucard had you in a mating press for the last three rounds, your pussy squelching with the mix of both your cum. He couldn't think of anything else except you. Seeing you bouncing Trevor and Sypha's baby boy on your lap, tickling his sides and smooching his face has Alucard seeing hearts in his eyes. And then he went feral. All he could think of after that was you round with his children. The rest of the visit was a blur, he couldn't concentrate on anything except stuffing you full.

"Darling, you would be such a good mother" hepractically growled, hips slamming into yours. He wanted to be inside you as deep as possible, focusing on force instead of speed. "Want you full, want you stuffed" Alucard dipped his face closer to you, kissing your neck as he kept a steady pace. You clenched around him, eyes rolling back as you continued to scratch his arms. "Do you like that, sweetheart? Do you like the idea of being full of my seed?" You whimpered, clenching again. You nodded, cock drunk. You couldn't lie, the thought of starting a family with Adrian has always been on the back of your mind, but you weren't sure if he would feel ready for that. But now, seeing him so desperate to breed you–you couldn't help but moan out as he continued to pound into you.

Alucard pushed a bit higher up on your thighs, knees practically at your ears. He lifted himself up higher, biting down on his lip as he fucked into you. His cock was making a mess inside of you, his tip nearly kissing your cervix. He was panting, looking wild above you. Just hearing you little ah, ah, ahs coming out of your mouth had Alucard practically drooling.

"A- Adrian, please, make me a mother" you moaned out, Alucard biting down on your pulse point. Now it was his turn to whimper—hips stuttering for a moment before continuing fucking into you. "Need to keep you filled with my cum" he growled, nails biting into the backs of your thighs. He pumped into you one, two, three more times before filling your cunt to the brim with his cum for the fourth time this evening.

The two of you stayed silent, outside of the pants from the both of you, until you spoke. "Adrian, what has gotten into you?" You breathed a laugh, eyeing him up. He at least had the decency to look bashful. "Sorry, love, you just looked so good with children, couldn't really control myself" he murmured, feeling himself harden inside you again.

"I just need to give you one more, let's really have a baby yeah?"

It was going to be a long night.

#adrian tepes #alucard x reader #castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017)#alucard (castlevania)#alucard tepes #milk writes #milk kinktober

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tojiscrack · 1 year ago

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•°. *࿐ 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄

tw: swearing, mention of nipples, arguing (counts as bantering), just chaos tbh

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

notes: the way i was bawling my eyes out for the new jjk ep that came out today whilst also trying to simultaneously stay happy for my husband’s birthday. had to distract myself, so here’s my gojo!birthday post! enjoyyy <33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

certain events were taken very seriously in your household. it would be extremely unnatural if you missed something as simple as the first day back to school or the last day of school, even.

to be fair, as much excitement as you held for little events such as those, your partner’s excitement was enough to accustom every other member of your house (there were three of you, excluding satoru gojo).

seriously: he had only recently thrown a child-like tantrum because you’d forgotten the anniversary of your first sparring session three years ago — who even remembers shit like that? what happened to the normal, memorable events like valentines day, mothers day, or fathers day?

or birthdays.

now that was one you took extremely seriously. that was one you’d understand if satoru threw a tantrum over forgetting something as important as the day commemorating the year the world turned upside down by the birth of satoru gojo himself (it would have been nice if you were given a warning — putting up with him was forced labour, you firmly believe that you deserve to be paid).

and getting a gift for satoru was easy as pie. the man was so full of sunshines and daisies that he accepted nearly everything. it came to a point where you’d been under the impression that he was simply pretending for your sake, that you tried giving him one of nanami’s weird old pointed shoes during his 17th. needless to say, he was not pretending to like your gifts, and that was proven very well when the strongest sorcerer in the world held up the pair in one large hand, teary eyed with his lips wobbling.

drama queen, you thought in your head.

this year, you had much planned: the dinner table where you usually forbid a number of more than four candies or sweets were now filled with enough to diagnose him with diabetes and at least twenty cavities.

that was not all.

sometime last month, satoru had bought a pretty, blue dress for tsumiki (no special occasion, it was ‘speaking’ to him, apparently — his words, not yours) but it ended up being a size too small. you, wisely, suggested returning it, but the idiot came up with something… unique.

“just let megumi wear it!” he’d said with a giant grin.

megumi did not take that too well. despite the fact that you were already on his side, scolding satoru for constantly teasing the innocent boy, megumi had run back into your shared bedroom and returned with one of your own pretty blue dresses.

satoru looked down at him, his opaque, round glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose to reveal his scarily-blue eyes.

“oh?” he’d said, brows raised. “i mean i see why you’d want to wear that one, but —"

“i don’t want to wear it, creep,” snapped megumi, dropping the dress at satoru’s feet. the height difference was comical, megumi barely reached higher than the snow-haired man’s knee. “it’s for you.”

your eyes narrowed.

“now wait just a minute —”

“i’ll wear tsumiki’s dress the day you wear that one,” scoffed megumi, who knew very well that satoru would never stoop that low. he did not wait for another response before walking away.

you and satoru watched him leave; you looked at satoru, who shrugged at you, and before either of you could blink, megumi was at satoru’s knees again.

“wha—”

kick!

“ow!”

the dark haired kid ran off without a word, leaving satoru to rub at his knee with his glasses askew on his face.

“the kid can seriously kick, huh?” he grunted, bouncing on the heels of his feet as you had approached him with a scowl.

“that’s what you get for even saying such a stupid thing,” you told him as you pinched his arm to stop him from bouncing around. his face came to level with yours and you took the opportunity to fix his glasses before flicking him on the forehead. “put my dress away.”

satoru grinned at you.

“i’ll skin you alive if i see you in that.”

“i paid for it.”

“and you’ll do that again if you wear it.”

so that brought you to the present day, where you found yourself actually pleading with megumi to… wear the dress.

“no,” he said, glaring at you (a rare sight, because despite your obvious similarities in humour with satoru, megumi still preferred to side with you in every situation). “it’s ugly.”

“you didn’t say it was ugly when tsumiki said she liked it.”

“tsumiki’s —” started megumi, looking at you as if you’d grown three different heads. “tsumiki’s a girl! why is — what’s wrong with you people?”

“it’ll look funny!”

“exactly.”

“he’ll be here in a couple of minutes, megumi. just for a minute… please?” you reasoned, hands clasped in pleading. “i want to make sure his birthday is perfect.”

“at my expense.”

you stared at him. “why does a kid like you even know those words?”

tsumiki had walked in the room by that point, a party hat sitting on top of the braids you had expertly done for her that morning.

“he reads non-fiction books,” she answered your question easily, placing her own wrapped gift on the table with very little room due to the pastries and goodies.

“of course,” you sighed. “because that’s so normal for a seven year old kid. you know, forget the dress. want me to take you to a doctor instead?”

“you’re not normal either,” megumi shot back grumpily.

“i am!” you argued back, unaware of the fact that satoru was now in the process of unlocking the door. “aren’t i, tsumiki?”

the girl, though hesitant, nodded enthusiastically. you’ll take it.

“see, megumi? i’m norm— what are you staring at?”

megumi’s face had paled, his pupils growing smaller and smaller with whatever view behind you he was met with. your eyes darted to tsumiki, who also looked visibly shocked, but you knew her well enough to analyse the fact that she also looked very… amused.

what was so amusing?

“I’M HOOOOME!” sang satoru, his voice smooth as silk and loud as though he’d spoken through a megaphone.

but satoru wasn’t that shocking. satoru was just satoru. satoru was…

you turned around.

satoru was wearing a dress.

your dress.

the one you’d forbidden him from touching.

the one you’d explicitly threatened him with.

the one he knew was off-limits.

the one he had now stretched and ripped due to his broad shoulders, his muscular frame, his tall body.

satoru seemed blissfully unaware of the issue at hand, pouting as his blue eyes darted from you, to megumi, to tsumiki.

“what, no birthday songs? you know i love your singing, y/n —”

“is infinity on?” you asked slowly, voice shaky with frustration.

satoru blinked.

“huh?”

“is. infinity. on.”

“i mean — yeah — but —”

“okay,” you smiled, walking over to the table and presenting all the treats you’d bought for him. you picked up a cinnamon roll with your bare hands, ignoring the way the sugary icing was now dripping down your skin.

“oh! those for me? i knew you’d come through! remember that shoe you gave me back when —”

splatter!

it was a good thing you were known for hitting your targets every time: satoru’s — your — dress was now tainted with the mess only a delicious cinnamon roll could cause. it dropped to the floor after sliding down his front for a good five seconds as you, him, and the kids watched with interest.

he stared at the wasted treat, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the disaster. he looked back up again, ready to protest when he found you holding another one of his treats: it was kikufuku — edamame and cream flavour, also known as, satoru gojo’s favourite.

“hey, wait —”

smack!

square on the nose. target hit. mission… accomplished? no, not quite yet. that was not enough compensation for your previously, well-crafted, beloved dress.

the idiot tried catching it, only for it to slip between his unnecessarily long fingers and fall sadly onto the wooden floor.

“no!” he shouted dramatically, voice cracking with despair. “that was —”

“your favourite?” you finished off, head tilted mockingly. “i know. that was my dress.”

satoru shook his head vigorously; it would have made you laugh if not for the fact that the dress he was wearing belonged to you.

“it still is!” he stated desperately.

“it’s not even a dress anymore you stupid man-child!”

“i know it looks a little… weird —”

“just weird?”

“and… a little ripped —"

“a little?”

“but it’s still yo— put my kikufuku down right now!”

the next five minutes had been an unpleasant sight for all: you were trying to get him out of your ruined dress, he was trying to get his favourite treat out of your hand, not to be tragically wasted like the previous one. tsumiki had made one or two attempts to calm all the tension down, but megumi had hissed at her to stop interfering.

tsumiki knew it was because if the arguing had been an issue of the past, megumi and his claim that if satoru wore your dress then he’d wear tsumiki’s small one, would be an issue of the present.

satoru, with his arms wrapped around your body (somehow) to prevent you from grabbing another one of his goodies, looked over his shoulder to send a menacing glare to megumi.

“you’re not off the hook either, mister,” he said loudly, “get the dress on.”

you pushed satoru off of you with an impressive amount of strength seeing as he practically towered over you and bested you in physical strength any day.

“no, forget it megumi. he doesn’t deserve to see you in a dre—”

the rest of your sentence had been muffled by satoru’s large hand slapping over your mouth, making you stumble back in surprise and anger.

“ignore her megumi, put the damn dress on.”

you pulled at his already-dishevelled hair sharply. he bit back a high-pitched scream his inner girl had wanted to release.

“he doesn’t want to anyway, he’s not gonna listen to you!”

satoru tried pushing you with his chest away from the dinner table so it would be easier to hold you back. he’d decided that you wouldn’t give up on this, therefore creating some space between you and his beloved sugary treats would be ideal in this scenario.

“oi, i did what the little brat wanted me to do,” he hissed with fury. his hands closed around your wrist, he looked over his shoulder at megumi again. “and i feel like shit right now —”

“— no swearing in front of the kids —”

“— i feel like poop right now,” satoru obediently corrected himself without looking back at you. “now do your dad a favour and put the dress on —”

megumi gave him a look of disgust and did not hesitate to share his thoughts.

“ew you’re not my dad.”

and sometimes you genuinely believe that satoru has some mild form of adhd, for his attention diverted quickly from his physical battle with you to the random one picked up by megumi.

“what the hell?”

but it still seemed as though one side of his brain was still working, he hadn’t let go of your wrists just yet.

“oh my god,” you sighed, looking over at tsumiki as though she could help you in any way: the young girl shrugged, fiddling with the little bands that went round her face in order to keep her party hat in place.

“pause, this is getting really serious right now and i don’t like it,” said satoru, and then quickly turned his head to face you with a glare. “not that you wasting my food isn’t serious.”

you struggled with his iron-tight grip on your wrists.

“i paid for all of that,” you reminded him charmingly.

“and i paid for this dress.”

“and you also wrecked it,” you snapped, eyeing what once used to be your beautiful blue dress that now looked like something you’d seen peasants wear in a movie.

“i’ll buy you a closet full of dresses if that’s what you want!” satoru argued back.

“i don’t want a closet full of dresses,” you retorted, and then paused, looking up thoughtfully. “but i’ll hold you to that.”

satoru blinked at you, confused; you shook your head and focused.

“i want that dress!” you demanded angrily, the battle continuing despite yourself. “and you didn’t heed my warning, so your kikufuku and everything else i bought you gets it.”

“you’re evil —”

“and you look like a fool!”

satoru did not deny that, so with his eyes still trained on you, narrowing them slowly, he exhaled through his nose.

“megumi, i won’t ask again. wear the dress.”

before you could go for the dinner table again, satoru ducked and lifted you by your waist, using his long legs to make large strides towards the couch. you protested, your hands had instinctively held onto his shoulders, and without them, you could not fight back. you opted to dig your nails into him instead — he hissed but made no complaints as he continued to quickly jog you over to the couch.

“megumi!” you called out loudly: the boy still remained where you had last spoken to him, by the chairs of the table with a party hat he’d been fiddling with beneath his chin. “don’t —”

you were interrupted by your own gasp when your back harshly met the soft cushions of the couch. you did not have to focus that hard to hear megumi’s quiet ‘wasn’t planning on it’.

“one down, another to go!” cheered satoru, way too joyful for your liking.

your gaze hardened, taking a cushion and dashing it at the back of his head with as much force as you could gather. of course, you never missed, but it did little to stop satoru from approaching megumi (other than the offended look he sent you in that ridiculous dress you tried so hard not to laugh at).

megumi remained stagnant, his glare hardening with each step satoru took to get closer to him.

“clown,” muttered megumi, jumping off of the chair he’d been sitting on and running to his room.

“oh, good plan!” satoru called after him with a smile. “you go and get the dress and i’ll stay and wait here!”

tsumiki coughed nervously. “erm — i don’t think he’s going to get th—”

she cut herself off when she saw you get back up and charge towards satoru. he turned around a second too late, you’d pushed him back and grabbed a handful of random pastries and sweets, throwing them at him without another thought.

“you’re gonna have to use hollow purple to stop me,” you said over his shouts of protests.

“jokes — jokes on — oh my god, no! — jokes on you, i — stop! — could just use infinity!”

“what’s the point? the food gets wasted anyway, genius.”

the food war (and physical battle, when satoru had decided that enough was enough and the only way to pacify you was to beat you in a clash of strength) had gone on for at least another ten minutes. you were growing exhausted, but satoru? satoru, that monster, was still fighting you as if your attacks were nothing.

stamina now seemed like water on a dry desert for you.

but you refused to give up.

“i can see your nipple, you pervert, ew!” you shouted from underneath him.

it was an odd mix of your limbs. you were trying to flip him over but the stretch his body when you twisted his torso somehow only caused the fabric across his chest to tear, revealing one of his nipples.

“you see it every night,” satoru shot back with a grin.

you wanted to slap the smug look on his face badly.

“that’s why i tell you to stop sleeping shirtless every night —”

“why are you complaining? any other woman would be glad to —”

“what are you guys doing?” tsumiki’s soft voice interrupted you like the smooth spread of butter on toast.

the two of you looked up; your jaws dropped.

tsumiki had taken the time that you guys spent fighting to change out of her simple, regular dress and put on one of the new ones satoru had bought for her sometime last week. it was a similar shade to the blue he’d wanted megumi to wear (for some odd reason, the weirdo?) but was definitely much more flattering. much, much more prettier.

and it was her size.

“get off of me, you —"

“— no swearing —"

“you woman fetishise-r —”

“what’s that?” asked tsumiki, as you both got to your feet and dusted yourselves off.

“yeah, what’s that, y/n?” satoru cheekily repeated, staring at you as if he needed the answer or he’d die a sad and painful death.

“it’s —” you began sharply, trying not to kill him with your death stare before looking back at tsumiki with a smile, “it’s not important. the real question is: what’s that?”

“…it’s a dress,” said satoru unhelpfully. he was looking at you as if you had discovered new learning difficulties.

“another peep out of you and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” you threatened him quietly.

you did not need to look at him to know that he was pouting like a kicked puppy. at least he was mute, but not for long, it seemed.

“you’d do that to me on my birthda—”

“i’ve done a lot to you today, don’t push it,” you said, still eyeing tsumiki’s dress with obvious amazement and interest. you approached her, bending down to her height and tucking back some of the flyaways on her head. “it makes you look like a princess —”

“and it stopped you guys from fighting,” she smiled… like a princess.

satoru glared down at you, well aware that you could not see him.

“yeah i’m still not done with her —”

“i’ll make you sit in the naughty chair, gojo,” you said menacingly.

he wanted to let out a long, exaggerated sigh, but the sound of tsumiki laughing at your… mutual banter (?) had drawn his attention away from your backside to her and her new dress.

“ah,” sighed satoru, rubbing the back of his neck, “still wanted to see megumi in a dress.”

“can it, gojo.”

“i did!” he responded, sounding like a child getting scolded by their mother. he looked down at tsumiki and brushed her party hat aside to ruffle her hair (though not enough to mess her neat braids up). “i mean — you look so pretty with it on, i just wore this stupid dress for nothing now.”

“mhm,” you nodded, rising to your full height to raise a brow at him.

he shrugged, picking up an unwrapped lindor bar from the table. “can i at least get a picture of myself?”

“no,” you rolled your eyes. “your entire thought about putting megumi in a dress was just plain dumb, satoru.”

tsumiki blinked up at you. “but you spent all day trying to get megumi to agree to —”

your eye twitched as you felt satoru’s amused and interested stare directed at your cheek. you refused to look back at him.

you loved tsumiki, you really did. but just like any other kid, she had a tendency of speaking about something when it was very clear that it was simply not required. in other words, she spoke to make matters worse for you — unknowingly, of course. it stung a little more seeing as being proven wrong against the smug bastard that is satoru gojo is enough to make you want to jump into a big, black hole and never return again.

the idiot was just that cocky.

“a dumb idea, huh?” you heard him say.

you closed your eyes, as though they were the source of your hearing.

“mhm…” you hummed, irritated.

“that so?” said satoru, and when you did not respond, he took it as an opportunity to go on, and on, and on.

“aw, you did that for me?”

“just for me?”

“and she spent all day doing that, did she?”

“of course she did, look at all those treats for me!”

“i mean — not out of the ordinary for her to be bugging megumi but for me?”

“you know what?” you interrupted him loudly. you faced him with a frown. “i want a divorce!”

satoru stared down at you, glanced at tsumiki, before blinking down at you again. he raised his snow-white brow at you, acting as though you’d said something that deserved ten years in jail.

“we’re not even married!”

“and whose fucking fault is that?”

“language!”

“happy birthday!” you stated angrily, reaching up and kissing him on his cheek before storming out of the room, unaware of the dazed look he sent after you, unaware of the pink dusting his cheeks, unaware of the dreamy sigh he let out when the door slammed loud enough to shake the rest of the house.

soon, that argument could never be used against him, especially not by you.

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thestripiestshirts · 11 months ago

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Back when I was majoring in elementary education we had to do these presentations of lesson plans in which people went up and gave a lesson as if the rest of us were the elementary students they were teaching. This one guy's lesson was about the phases of the moon, and he very confidently did his whole lesson... explaining to us that the moon's phases were caused by the shadow of the Earth on the moon. At some point I finally couldn't take it anymore and raised my hand to explain that that's not how the phases of the moon were caused. I forget the presenter's response to this, but good number of people in the class got annoyed with me for "ruining it."

I used to be a grader and an occasional substitute prof for an introductory astronomy lab. That means that the majority of the people in this lab are only taking it because it’s a requirement and about half of them think it’s an astrology class.

I was grading midterms and this one girl. She was so nice and I think she was a business major. Fuck. The question on the midterm was to draw a diagram of the solar system and this poor girl. This fucking girl had drawn a Mars-centric solar system. As in every planet and the sun were orbiting Mars. I now actually have a custom Cards Againsy Humanity card I got at a con that says “A Mars-centric solar system”

I had a boy argue with me that there was liquid water on the moon (this was around when they had found liquid water on Mars in ~2015) and he wouldn’t believe me that he likely meant Mars and not the moon. After I marked his answer to the relevant lab question wrong, he took it to the department head who had promptly laughed him out of the office.

And there was another boy who, during a lab in our observatory where we would look at certain things in the sky, asked where the sun was. At 10pm in November. After some questioning it was revealed that he thought the moon and the sun were the same thing.

#this is the same education program in which we had to take state exams to become teacher certified #the general ed exam was at like a fifth grade level. maybe sixth. I passed first try and didn't think much of it.#I was the only person who passed first try. most people had to take it 3 or 4 times to pass. one girl took it SEVEN TIMES.#AND IT COST MONEY. IT WAS LIKE $100 PER RETAKE OR SOMETHING #that whole program was just... we did a little spelling test once with admittedly higher level words #I was the only one who could spell everything #one time in a children's literature class we did an icebreaker talking about our favorite books #and it quickly became very clear that I was the only one who had read any book at all since high school #you know what though? they're probably all killing it at teaching right now. bc after two months of actually being a 6th grade teacher #I realized that school is no longer about educating. it's about babysitting.#joke's on me I guess because it turned out I couldn't make it as a teacher. I cared about actual education too much #sorry this is all so cynical I just have too many burning thoughts on this matter. i would say 'the education system sucks' but tbh #at this point I can't even blame the system. I'm blaming parents. not all parents of course but hooooo boy way too many of them.#my mom actively invested in and participated in my and my sister's education. so many parents of the kids in the schools I worked in did No #just read to your kids folks pls just read to them and talk to them early on andmake them familiar w/ numbers and letters and the actual ac #of reading and writing. pls I am on my hands and knees. this would solve so many problems #okay end rant. I'm not okay

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dunmeshistash · 6 months ago

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hi, i always kind of forget how the general dungeon meshi monster lore goes tbh, like i know monsters are animals that have been affected by magic and stuff, but i feel like its kind of unclear how much they exist outside of dungeons? at least in my memory... and the wiki doesn't have a general page for monsters for some reason. if you could point me in the direction of a post you've made abt this or compile some stuff from the manga that would be really helpful.

Yes they exist outside dungeons! But not in as great of numbers

Laios talks about monsters that live near his home town and there are also "natural dungeons" where naturally occurs higher mana density (usually caves from the ones we see) and there's a higher possibility to find monsters in those because of that.

You can check this similar ask I tried to answer a bit ago and the monsters tag

Also maybe this dungeon post could be interesting too, there's major spoilers in that post tho.

Here's the more relevant bit, a collapsed dungeon in a canyon that still has monsters around.

6 THE DRAGONS' LAIR

An elf-style dungeon. Currently collapsed. A rare case in which an entire region of interlacing canyons became a dungeon. Many dragons lived here once, and it was a notoriously secluded region. However, it was hard just to get to it, the rewards were small, and the dragons were tough. Almost no adventurers visited it, and it's thought to have collapsed naturally. When the population dwindled, mana stopped flowing through it, so the large dragons vanished. However, a few small dragons still live there.

#dungeon meshi #ask #anonymous #Monsters

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decepti-thots · 17 days ago

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Ultra Magnus for the headcanon asks, please!

Headcanon A: realistic

I think that while the existence of the Magnus armour stuff is officially only known by a very tiny number of people in Autobot high command, it's not nearly as unknown in an unofficial sense as one might assume, and a not insignificant number of people with some amount of security clearance and/or regular interaction with Magnus know about it and gossip. Obviously we have two concrete canon bits of proof for this (Bumblebee shouldn't know, but was told by at least one Magnus armour wearer, and Ratchet guessed despite never being told), but I think it's gotta be something that over the years has spread enough that it's a little bit of an open secret tbqh. The guy keeps dying and then popping back up with a noticeably different personality. Any medic treating him has the same opportunities as Ratchet to notice. They're robots where the concept of a loadbearer is a clearly known possibility and the propaganda possibility is not that hard to infer! I feel like the number of people who guessed that something was up cannot be anything close to zero, or even just a couple higher ups. Like. It's been gossiped about. You know.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Due to spending two years in direct collaboration with Verity, he has a baffling knowledge of the very specific segment of Earth pop culture that appeals to a teenage girl from the USA in like the late 00s/early 10s. Specifically a rebellious nerdy one. He legitimately knows more about it than he ever knew about Cybertronian popular culture. This never comes up until he offhandedly mentions some random thing within earshot of Swerve that is so incongruous it causes him to mentally bluescreen. How the fuck do you know about that Magnus. What the hell.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Magnus is going to carry the guilt of dismissing Rewind's insistence Dominus was somehow alive the whole time with him for the rest of his life. The realization that Rewind was right but they confirmed it too late for him to do anything about it until the very second it was too late, in a time and place where Magnus was present and might have been able to make a split second decision that helped if only he was there, must be such a fucking thing for him. Let alone that as Ultra Magnus, if he had believed like Rewind did, he'd have possibly had the resources to get answers much, much earlier, if he'd tried.

Realistically, he had every reason to assume Dominus was dead. Rewind was being unreasonably optimistic, especially when the comic implies that Minimus was cut off from the literal sparkbond they had in a way that in any other situation would be definitive proof Dominus was dead. But he wasn't! And he missed every chance to intervene by like, the tiniest margin. You have to assume that on some level he's got some fucked up feelings about that.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own

I know Roberts said he thinks that Megatron becoming an Autobot without all the code-test stuff that Tailgate went through wasn't an issue because realistically, Megatron would know it back to front. I don't even disagree with him, I absolutely believe that he would, it makes sense. But it's objectively too fucking funny to imagine Magnus putting Megatron through the 'you WILL listen to my three hour lecture on the syntax of this one sentence being Extremely Legally Important' gauntlet and I simply choose to believe this did happen but off-panel and Magnus absolutely kicked his ass about it in terms of sheer Knowing His Shit about it. Way too funny to pass up tbh. Megatron thought he knew and understood it very well (and to be fair: he did, compared to every not-Magnus person), but he got grilled. Magnus quite enjoyed rebutting every single interpretation Megatron had by way of ludicrous pedantry.

#ask meme

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unaplays · 1 month ago

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✨ Xilonen Buffer Build ✨

🛹 Like I said in my previous pull recap, getting Xilonen wasn't in my original plan. I was waiting for Mavuika but there was no signs of her yet until next patch. The game got a little boring with no new character to build so I decided to use some of my Mavuika saving for Xilonen.

🛹 Turns out, I made one of the best decision, pulling for a buffer who doesn't just boost my character's damage, but she's also able to heal! Discussions started surfacing, comparing Xilonen with Kazuha, which one is better and is she worth to pull if you already have Kazuha? I will try to break down my thoughts and how to build Xilonen as a buffer in this post.

🛹 Disclaimer: This build is not perfect and by no means should be treated as a rigid rule. I just share what I have tested in game and what I know works for me. So always do your own research and take my guide with that note in mind!

Artifact Set

🛹 Being a character who hails from Natlan, Xilonen is able to activate Nightsoul Blessing as her own kit, which can easily help trigger the 4 pc effect of Scroll of the Hero of Cinder City artifact. Just make sure that you create elemental reaction with Xilonen to activate the passive. It's required to produce crystallize reaction with the element you want to buff for the passive to work.

Artifact stats: def% or energy recharge sands, def% goblet, def% or crit rate/crit damage or healing bonus circlet

Ratio to follow: 3.200 def if you use Peak Patrol weapon to maximize its buff, 150% energy recharge if you want her to burst every rotation

🛹 A lot of my followers asked me on Instagram if she needed high def number and tbh if we're talking about Xilonen's debuff, it doesn't scale off her def. It has its own multiplier which is why it's important to level up her skill. Def helps with her healing but not with the debuff. Unless you have her signature weapon, then it's required to have at least 3.200 def to maximize its buff.

Team Composition

Neuvillette hypercarry

🛹 Wherever Kazuha can exist in a team, then Xilonen can too. They pretty much work the same, the only difference is in the way they give benefit to the team and the fact that Kazuha can do crowd control. While Kazuha gives buff to us, Xilonen gives debuff to enemies instead. Tho since geo can't react with dendro and anemo, you probably won't find her place in those teams.

Talents Priority

🛹 Her skill takes priority as the resistance shred comes from her skill. The higher the skill level, the bigger resistance shred she can give. Her burst deals damage but you level it up mostly for her heal.

Weapon Choices

5* choices: Peak Patrol Song, Freedom Sworn

4* choices: Flute of Ezpitzal (Natlan craftable weapon), Favonius Sword, Cinnabar Spindle (event exclusive)

🛹 Xilonen is such an f2p friendly unit as she can use common 4* weapons such as Favonius, and even craftable ones from Natlan. You can give her def% or energy recharge weapons and she will still perform just fine.

🛹 Now comes the million dollar question: Should you pull for Xilonen if you already have Kazuha? My answer would be yes, cuz it's like having 2 Kazuha, and since we need 2 teams for spiral abyss so having 2 characters who can help buff both team will be our advantage. You can skip Xilonen if you still lack on field dps in your account. But other than that, there's no reason for you to skip her. You can even combine both Xilonen and Kazuha in the same team if you want a premium hyper carry team.

So that’s pretty much my Xilonen build. Feel free to ask me questions if you have any through my ask box or just leave comment on this post and I’ll respond right away!

Don’t forget to check out my other builds here!

#genshin #genshin impact #xilonen #builds #genshin builds #xilonen build #geo

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paperstarwriters · 3 months ago

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Hey, do you take requests? I loved your Modern Roomate Muriel X Reader fic and I would love a part 2 if you ever felt like writing it <3

Yes I take requests! But it does take a while for me to finish them cause I'm slow and this was no exception lol

thank you for waiting though! and I'm glad you like my writing enough to want more!

For this one I've tried to keep descriptions vague but also I tried to be accurate with Muriel's colors. Though if you can't tell I'm still not exactly confident with makeup lmao. Tbh i can't use it much since I'm prone to rashes, so I don't have much experience lol. Still I hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Modern Roommates Muriel x Reader

Warnings: Lots of fluff & Author knows little about Makeup 😅.

Summary: Muriel admits that he has worn makeup before, but under such bad circumstances, you can't help but want to give him a better experience. More important than the colours, more important than the fine lines, you want this to feel... Nice for Muriel. Like he's being pampered. He deserves that you think.

Word Count: 3, 640

Part 1 | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Painting

"So have you worn make up before?"

Muriel pauses in making breakfast, turning to face you as you sip at your glass of water at the table. Had he not noticed you come in? He's typically very (annoyingly) good at that. Any chance of preening at your sudden ability to sneak up on your roommate falls flat as he makes a scrunched expression. Disgust perhaps? Or discomfort? You can't tell as he quickly turns back to his cooking, too soon to let you see what exactly he might have felt.

Thankfully, he graces you with a reply.

"I... Did before..... For a bit.... For a.... Job."

Your stomach sinks.

It's funny how much there is to notice. What you can pick up and understand when you live so closely with a quiet roommate. How a hum can mean a number of things, ranging from a simple yes to, "I think that's kinda dumb but you know what, you do you." or "I appreciate you too much to disagree." And for all that Muriel did not talk to you about his past, he only ever reserves the word "Job" for one job he's had in the past. Everything else is called work. This, you're sure, is better called torture.

Asra mentioned it once to you before, when you were new roommates and he was far grouchier and colder. Muriel worked a job under some toxic super wealthy frat boy manager doing something violent and unsavory. A boxing ring you sometimes imagined, an assassination job it sometimes sounded like. In desperate need of money he had to do a lot of terrible things. It's a wonder he ever got out without someone chasing him to drag him back in, but well, thanks to the r3d outbreak getting away is way easier when your employers get sick, or when you can feign an illness and leave as the higher ups fear for their lives.

What kind of make up would that kind of job need? Maybe something black around the eyes like they do for the military with their masks? Or was it make up to appear more sick in order to escape?

Muriel sighs as he pushes your plate closer to you, startling you as you hadn't even noticed it was there. You mutter your thanks before you start eating the eggs and rice he's prepared for you, still trying to chew over what his possible past experience might have been with makeup while you try to chew your food at the same time. The result is tenuous of at best as you run very close to choking on your food a handful of times and miss your mouth once or twice when particularly deep in thought.

What kind of makeup did Muriel even use?

...What would he look like in makeup?

On that point, what would suit him best? Something dramatic and edgy or emo? Or maybe a pop of colour? Green around his eyes might draw lovely attention to the green within, but a dark eyeliner might as well. What about contrast? Red against green? Wouldn't he look lovely in red? A lingering stain of red on his cheeks, and a bright red stain of red on his lips... Ah how kissable they would be then?

...well, anyone would consider his lips kissable if such plush things were stained a vibrant red...

"Are... Are you done?" Muriel mumbles, eyes diverted to tracing the scuffmarks at the bottom of the wall beside him.

It takes you a moment to realize that your plate is already empty, and a moment longer to realize you had been staring at Muriel for the last few minutes as you daydreamed about makeup. You're quick to rectify your mistake as you redirect your attention to your empty plate, though it takes you another moment to remember that it's your turn to wash them, plucking your plate and his from the table to go and wash.

It's silent for awhile. An anxious little silence wrought with a familiar lighthearted tension. It's more awkward than anything, but someone needs to break the silence, someone needed to say something. If you could just—

"Do you wanna try wearing makeup?" you blurt out. You don't even need to turn to look behind you to see his shocked expression at your offer, maybe even a little bit of hurt or betrayal that you just cannot bear to see. So you keep your eyes on the dishes before you, quickly scrubbing away rice with a sponge as the used pan sits below soaking in the water. "Not any battle make-up or anything, but just something... I don't know... Artsy or something? Something colourful? Something that would compliment your eyes..... Uhm not that your eyes aren't pretty or something—or that you're not pretty without makeup—or that you even need to do this at all haha!"

Above you the light from the small kitchen's lightbulb is eclipsed by a familiar figure behind you. With a gentle touch of your shoulder, Muriel brings your attention up towards him though he still looks away, avoiding your eyes, as the corner of his lips twitches. You can't tell if he's fighting a smile or fighting a frown.

"You don't have to, Muriel. It's just an idea..."

And finally he meets your gaze. "I... No. I... I'd like that. It sounds...nice."

His eyes wander away from you again, as if ashamed to confess that he'd like to wear make up—though maybe, considering what you've heard about that shitty old job, he is. Maybe his old job was the type to argue that pretty makeup was for the weak and spineless, or maybe he was convinced that pretty makeup was only for the rich and wealthy who came to watch or hire him to fight for them, all while they'd sit so far away and safe and cozy in some plush lounge seat, so far away from the danger and the violence, but getting the chance to watch, and delight in the wretched outcome.

Either case is so awfully sad. Either case only makes you want to doll him up in makeup even more.

Furiously you scrub at the pan, and within a matter of seconds you've scraped off anything that had ever threatened to stick, thoroughly scrubbed at it with soap and set it aside to dry with the plates as you wipe your hands on your shirt and nearly bolt off to your room to search for your materials. Hopefully you had colours that would work well with him.

It takes you a moment to realize that you're alone in your room, turning with a handful of tools to find no one there behind you, and as you peek out of your door and down the hallway, you find Muriel still standing in front of the sink, staring at you with wide confused and slightly worried eyes.

"Do you not wanna do it anymore?"

His eyes seem to go even wider for a moment, before he replies, "right now?"

"Did you want to do it later?"

"I—no....okay!"

And back in to your room you go, this time with the added assurance that Muriel would follow, marked by the faint thud of his feet against the hallway floors.

You dig around for your cleanest brushes, and grab your most trustworthy (and thus most used) brushes alongside it, grabbing something to clean the brushes as you bolt off to the bathroom to wash your tools, before you return to searching your assortment of tools in search for items that would suit him. The red of one lipstick would look lovely in contrast to his eyes, but a muted dusty pink might look just as pretty wouldn't it? Perhaps a bold black eyeliner, would be a bit much—and maybe a bit too similar to whatever black eye paint they used in the military if he used that stuff, so maybe a brown eyeliner would work a bit better? If you even had one of those... Though maybe brown eyeshadow would be effective enough? Ah but maybe brown wouldn't be as noticeable...

You zip back and forth between the washroom and your tools, between cleaning and searching for colours and palettes rummaging through your rather limited assortment of makeup tools. Having only ever bought stuff for yourself, you didn't really have much outside of your favourite colours or in tones that would suit your skin, but a few older products that you tried and didn't like, or a few palettes with sparsely used colours were surely somewhere within the mix.

You only pause in your searching as you're pulling your brushes out from the washroom, having dried them off loosely with a towel to go further air dry them beside a nearby fan or in the sun by the window or something, you had been in the middle of deciding when you realized you had forgotten a crucial component.

"Hey Muriel?"

He sits up straight at the sound of his name, head snapping away to look out the door, as his hands ball into fists as if bracing for the touch of your brush.

You can't help but hesitate a bit at the sight.

"What.....?"

"Oh, uh, you should probably go wash your face, and use some cream on your skin as well. The one in the flat container should be pretty good for most skin I think?"

Muriel nods, still not looking your way as you return to your make up drawers in search for odd colours you only maybe, hopefully had for him.

When the sound of the sink finally shuts off, you take it as your cue to give up. It's an odd assortment of colors—you doubt you'd use that neon shade of green on him, even if green is his colour the brightness might be a bit...off-putting right away, but you have a general colour scheme you can follow using some of the colours on hand.

Face ever so slightly damp and shiny from the cream, Muriel returns, looking... Anxious to say the least really.

He fiddles with his hands a bit, touching his face almost just as much, trying to wipe away invisible droplets of water, or trying to smooth down the thicker patches of the lotion you let him borrow.

And again, you find yourself hesitant.

"Are you sure you wanna try this? No shame in backing out. It's easy to put this stuff away."

Muriel nods, following his silence with a half whispered reply. "No, I'm ..... I'm okay. I want to try...."

You nod, and pulling your first brush from it's little cup, you settle down, and begin to get to work.

It's a lot of careful maneuvering, carefully dabbing colours onto some places with a brush, rubbing other places with your fingers, before you lean away to check how you're doing. Were the colours too bright? Was that line off? There are a few things that you end up having to scrub off with a makeup wipe, but even with that you're careful of his skin. More important than the colours, more important than the fine lines, you want this to feel... Nice for Muriel. Like he's being pampered. Muriel barely moves through the entirety of it all, but for what little he does it means all the world to you. Silent and unmoving, eyes and mouth closed, Muriel serves as the perfect canvas, only difficult in the fact that it keeps you from seeing whether he likes it or not, if he feels pampered or not. At the very least, you hope it feels nothing like whatever his old job used to do for him.

Ah, but you can only really hope.

An orange-red lipstick is the final touch, but your limited supply of brushes are already all packed with colours, and you'd like to —if all possible—keep the things that touched your eyes from going towards anyone—including your own—mouth.

So you elected a far simpler method instead. You rub your finger against the lipstick bullet, and with your finger to his lips you smudge the colour against his skin. And with a simple touch to his lips, you make him jolt, breaking his statuesque composure, for just a moment before he's still all over again, albeit maybe leaning a little more foreword than before. If he has, it's barely noticeable, and probably caused by that one jolt of movement. His lips are a bit chapped and dry, so it takes a few attempts, but you manage to stain his lips with a suitable amount of colour in your eyes.

You take a step back to see what you've done, and smile, satisfied at your work. It's nothing special, nothing on the level of some professional in a studio with all the makeup options in the world at their fingertips, but you think that it suits him, and you're proud of that much at least.

"You can open your eyes now."

You offer him a hand mirror, and let him examine your, admittedly shoddy work. It's not perfect, but the colours look nice you think, though you can't help but wince at the selection a little. You just didn't have a shade of green that would fit him well in your opinion, so you leaned instead into the red colours that you did have. You used the only greens you could find to add a little colour to the inner and outer corners of his eyes, and used a warm orange-y-red lipstick on his lips that turned out pretty dark against his skin, you also smudged the colour a bit along his cheeks as well, as a sort of blush really though if you could you'd like to try to capture that shade of red his face so often blooms. It really isn't your best work, limited as your colour palette was, but....

Well, the way his eyes seem to glitter more at seeing it.... Well, it would make any make up look pretty on him really.

"Can I... Ask for one thing?"

You blink, surprised for a moment before you're immediately grabbing the makeup wipes again.

"Sure! Do you not like the colours? Is there a colour that you'd rather wear?"

His cheeks tint red, and you almost curse yourself for the smudge of dark red on his cheeks, making it harder to decipher that exact shade. Surely you had lipstick in that colour at least...?

"What.... What was the colour of lipstick you were wearing last night....?"

You pause for a moment, dropping the attempt of colour matching to grab the tube of lipstick from it's place on your table. It was a dark red shade, almost like the colour of blood, a shade you specifically aimed to avoid, hoping that it wouldn't make him uncomfortable.

"This one? You wanna try it on?" He barely even looks at it before he nods, making you sigh as you bring it closer to him to let him inspect it. "It might look different on your skin than it does on mine just an fyi, so don't be surprised if it looks different okay?"

Muriel nods again, this time having looked at the lipstick a little more thoroughly. He doesn't react to the colour at all no trace of hesitance or weariness, so perhaps they didn't try to paint him in "blood" or anything dramatic like that.

With your fingers once again, you press the red colour against his lips, as Muriel leans into your touch this time, eyes closed as he lets you work. The sight of it startles you for just a moment, looking as if he were leaning in for a kiss.

Your finger slips from it's path, and a smudge of red, streaks away from his lips, but even that looks so.... Pretty against his skin. Like he's been kissed, like whatever lipstick he had been wearing had been smudged by another pair of lips eager to express their affection.

You hesitate, staring at his lips for a moment before you finally turn away to grab more makeup wipes. When you turn back, Muriel's eyes are already open, already staring at your sloppy job with his lipstick.

"Sorry I'll fix it. Do you like the colour though?"

Muriel's eyes flicker to yours for a moment before he looks away, but a grin curls his painted lips, as more colour takes to his cheeks. A resounding yes, then, confirmed by a faint hum. A job well done in your books then, and thus a debt well repaid, for his gentle hand at helping you wash your own makeup off.

You dab at his lip to wipe away the smudged lipstick, before you begin to pack up your supplies. "Feel free to wear that for however long you'd like, I...." you cut yourself off. The offer to help wash the make up from his face tucked away along with your makeup containers. Muriel helped you to clean off the makeup only because you needed his help exhausted and maybe a little drunk from your night out, but Muriel can surely handle himself.

When you turn back around, Muriel is staring at himself in the mirror. It's the most you've seen him look in a mirror to be honest. Not including the bathroom, your room seems to be the only one in the apartment with a mirror, and though you've offered to let Muriel borrow your mirror if he needs to, or to help him buy his own, he's staunchly refused your offers. It was a small thing though, nothing that you'd feel the need to press him about. He's covered in scars after all, and you know full well how he feels about those—the whole reason why you let him use a handheld mirror than your full sized one.

But now, as he holds your little handheld mirror up, to look at his face, you can't help but notice how he traces his own lips with a newfound reverence, fingers dancing along the flesh with the barest touch as if he were worried it would smudge, or wipe away with a mere touch. Yet even then, the corners of his lips are pulled up. Did he like it that much? You make a mental note to buy extra of that colour the next chance you get alongside some green eyeshadow perhaps, though by the looks of if, Muriel seemed to much prefer the lipstick that stained his lips than any of the other colours you've splattered on his face.

It takes him a few moments, but when his eyes finally flicker up to you, he does so with a smile, that promptly fades into a blushy pout as he realizes your attention. It's a tragedy to see it go, but seeing his lip jut out at the attention is nearly as good.

"Do you like it?"

You're startled at his question, for a moment, scrambling for coherent thought to best reply to him. The reply you give in the end makes your own face grow warm, though earnest and true.

"You look lovely." Even your expression softens a little, as your eyes flit back down to his lips. Once more, Muriel's face picks up colour again, but try as he might, he can't quite keep the smile from curling up the corners of his mouth at his words.

"Thank you."

Standing, Muriel fidgets with the mirror for a moment before handing it to you, mouth parting for a moment before he thinks better of it and closes it again. It continues for a moment or two, making him stay longer than you'd expect him to, as he stares anywhere but you. Familiar with the gesture, you wait for him to get his words in order, even as he looms above you while you're half sitting against the ledge of your drawers.

If anything, you take the moment to re-assess your work, recalling all the improvements you fully intended to make if he let you do this again. If you could, you'd use a shade closer to his eye colour as his eyeshadow next time, to bring more attention to the colour there. Or maybe even some sparkles next time? If he didn't mind them that is, it could be a bit irritating to try to clean off sometimes. And maybe next time you'd choose a better shade of blush that would match the actual red to rise in his cheeks.

And the red of his lips... You're tempted to reach up, to press a finger to his lips once more, if only to feel how plush they were again, if only to give him more of that pretty red that he seemed to like so much despite his past.

And you watch as those pretty painted lips part, as those lovely emerald eyes finally dart your way. You watch as his attention finally turns to you, mouth parted as if ready to speak before he pauses, just for a breath, eyes searching your face for... Something.

And maybe he finds it. Maybe he doesn't. But in reaction to whatever he sees, just a little bit of that tension escapes his face, shoulders sagging and the faintest curl of his lips gracing his expression.

"Next time," the spell breaks as he speaks, mouth corralled into a pout once more as his eyes dart away from you, "Next time let me put your make up on for you."

And with that he turns away fingers just brushing against yours as he leaves your room, leaving you to blink and wonder what sort of makeup he knew to apply.

If anything, at least he seemed to like it.

If anything, you had another reason to feel his fingers against your skin...

#answering asks #Anonymous #the arcana #Muriel #muriel of the kokhuri #x reader #reader insert #Muriel x reader #Muriel the arcana #the arcana muriel #the arcana muriel x reader #Muriel the mountain man #Muriel the hermit #muriel arcana #muriel the hermit #Thank you for the request!! 💕💕💕

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