Gorillaz x Reader

Murdoc is God (Murdoc Niccals x AFAB!Reader smut)

TRIGGER WARNING!! NSFW and shit talking religion LOLLOLOL

  Murdoc's Winnebago smelled stuffy, and to cover this smell up there were many incense cones lit in the ashtrays scattered around the mobile home. The earthy-smokey scent drifted throughout the small space almost choking me but it smelled nice. Mixed with the faint smell of various pine-tree air fresheners scattered on the ceiling made it smell (almost) not like shit.

I scrolled through my phone mindlessly, bored out of my mind. Murdoc was bored too, a lit cigarette hanging on for dear life on his bottom lip and his bass in his lap as he twanged at it mindlessly. I scooted to the edge of the bed so that my head hung off of it, and everything looked upside down. My legs rested on the top of his shins, and Murdoc shook his as if to dismiss me. The golden framed photo of his dad, Sebastian Niccals, that hung on the wall by one corner with darts pushed deeply into it showed his distaste for the man. And from this angle, Murdoc's plant cactus that had in the driver's seat was shaped like a penis.

I laughed, sitting up whilst clutching my head. The blood had begun to rush to my head and started to make me feel lightheaded. I watched Murdoc play bass for a bit, his long fingers plucking at individual chords and his other hand keeping a tight grip on the neck as he played to make the notes sound deep and melodious. The song he played sounded somber, and still. I shook my head to snap myself out of the trance I was in. It felt like I was about to fall asleep. "Hey, Murdy..." I started, feeling my boredom take over. Interrupting his bass playing felt the equivalent of a child asking a parent to go to the park numerous times, or saying 'are we there yet?' over and over during a road trip.

Murdoc paused his instrument playing to take a drag of his cigarette without looking up, tapping the excess ashes in a nearby navy blue glass tray. "Whatsit, love?" He hummed, placing the ciggy back into his mouth and pursing his lips with it to keep a better hold on it.

I rested my head near his legs, to not disturb the man playing and looked up at him. "Do you wanna do something?" I looked up at him, my hands folded over my stomach.

"Like what? I am a little busy at the moment. Why don't you go play video games with Noodle? I heard Ace was in town, you could invite him over," Murdoc's tone wasn't cold, it was genuine. His eyes flicked down to mine for a split second, then back to his bass. Not hearing a real proper answer, Murdoc sighs and stares down at me. "Bored, are you?" He acknowledged finally.

I nodded slowly, puffing my bottom lip out as if it was the biggest of all tragedies.

"Well..." Murdoc sighs. "Alrigh'... look, when I am done we can go do something in town for tonight, okay? Give me about fifteen more minutes of practicing. Mmmh, sound good?" Murdoc gives me a reassuring kiss on the forehead, and then he goes back to playing his bass.

I groaned, sitting up after not getting the answer I wanted. A sigh makes my ribcage expand, and contract. After staring at my lap and listening to Murdoc's bass for a couple of minutes a brilliant idea pops into my head.

'I wonder what would happen if I...' I look back at him, wondering if I should act on the evil passing thought. Murdoc looks distracted, trying to play the right notes and write them down. After he finds the right chords he sets the bass down on the floor gently and notes in his journal.

Facing him, I crawl over to the unsuspecting male and push the notebook and pen out of his hands. I make a show out of straddling him and draping my arms around his neck. Almost unsure that he wouldn't take on to the idea, my heartbeat fastened at Murdoc's hands instinctively settling at my hips, using one of them to take the cig out of his mouth and snuff it out in the ashtray. His face draws close to mine as he blows the rest of the smoke out into my face. "Now... I thought I told you to give me fifteen minutes? You couldn't even wait that long? Sounds to me that you're acting like a wanton slut," His voice was low and gravelly. The look on his face was no longer puzzled, nor peaceful as if he was contemplating something when he was playing his instrument. He had a different longing gaze that took over fairly quickly.