3 Works by sweetfishsauce
Listing Works
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Summary
The other Curly, temporarily named Grant to differentiate between the two, is similar, yet somehow not, to the Curly that Jimmy knows. There’s just something about the way he talks, the way he takes up space in the room, and the way he doesn’t wait for approval to do or get what he wants. Dominating. Effortless.
More than that is the way he looks at Jimmy, blue eyes roving the co-pilot’s figure, pointed. It’s the way he doesn’t look away when Jimmy catches him staring, mouth curling into a mean, challenging smirk.
It makes something in Jimmy crawl with anticipation.
In which space shenanigans happen and there are now 2 Curlys on the ship.
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Summary
Co-pilot Jimmy of the Tulpar freighter had hidden his Omega status for as long as he could remember. Experience from his childhood led him to believe that he should never let people know what he is. So when Jimmy’s suppressants failed due to his constant use and a freak system mishap triggered a stress-induced heat in him, it would take all of his willpower to stop himself from seeking out the blonde Alpha, whose scent was not at all nice in his humble opinion.
Meanwhile, Captain Grant Curly struggled with controlling himself and his wandering thoughts when faced with his supposedly Beta friend’s new revelation. Surely, this incident won’t bring forth feelings he had kept hidden from his best friend.
TL/DR: Denial’s a river. The ship didn’t crash but someone ended up crashing out anyway.
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Daisuke’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Internship by sweetfishsauce
Fandoms: Mouthwashing (Video Game)
24 Apr 2025
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Daisuke thinks he wasn’t supposed to see it. No. Scratch that. He definitely wasn’t supposed to see it. But now that he has seen it, the image is stuck in his head forever. Daisuke will never be able to look the man in the eye ever again, not without thinking about what’s hidden underneath the blue flight suit.
It was a mistake. A damn coincidence that he was there when he was. A damn miscalculated error that the intern didn’t avert his eyes when the older man bent over to drink some water from the tap. It was his mistake that his eyes focused on the dark mark on the co-pilot’s back when the man brought the hem of his tank top to wipe at his mouth, loose shorts drooping low on slim hips.
There, stark against tanned skin, was a “tramp stamp” with his Captain’s name tatted just above the crack of Jimmy’s ass.