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ceilidho · 6 months

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prompt: it's been a month since you managed to run away from them. your luck had to run out eventually. tags: noncon, darkfic, ghoap x reader, previous kidnapping implied, stalking and hunting down reader. i am begging you to read the tags before reading this, thanks. 4.4k

You pay for the motel room in cash. Always cash. Never a paper trail if you can help it. Nothing that could ever tip anyone off if you didn’t want them to be tipped off.

You haven’t been on the run for long. Maybe a month, tops—but after the first week, the days and nights have begun to blend together like watercolours. You don’t do much during the day apart from sit in your room and wait for the night to come. Sometimes you venture out if you’re low on food or if the itch under your skin grows severe enough that you know you need to buy a fresh set of clothes and dump the ones you came into town with.

Freshly dyed and cut hair. Jackets two sizes too big to make you seem larger than you are from the back. You’ll never be able to change the face god gave you, but you make an effort to obscure it when you can—surgical masks on public transit, heavy sunglasses even indoors, a deep mauve lipstick (purchased, again, in cash at the local pharmacy) to make you seem, from a distance, like someone else. Anyone else.

Sometimes remembering that it’s been a whole month since you escaped, since you got out, leaves you winded. You have to hold onto the wall in your pay-by-the-night, ratty, hole-in-the-wall motel room to keep from toppling over. A month without spotting one of them in pursuit of you feels next to impossible. Almost impossible. You still don’t let yourself think that you’ve fully given them the slip, that you’ve gotten the better of them. There is no getting the better of them. There is no outmanoeuvring the two men that—you’ve learned through painful trial and error—do not let up when there is still the trace of a scent.

And everything leaves a scent. Even you.

You sleep in the bathtub instead of the bed for fear of bedlice; these days, your neck has an ever-present kink that needs to be worked out. It’s bound to get worse though. It’s not like you can stop in this town now and call it home, not when you can feel them hot on your heels.

You change in gas station bathrooms when you run. You’re learning a kind of awareness of cameras and eyes that you never would’ve developed before. You do not smile at cashiers. Your face becomes blank, unrecognisable. The goal is always that you fade into obscurity the second you step out of the shop, so that no one could ever identify you to the two terrifying men haunting your shadow. Even if they wanted to.

Paranoid isn’t the half of it. When you hear a car pull up outside your motel room door, your body drops a whole degree and sweats like a night terror has found you in the waking world. You only relax when you hear a door four rooms down slam shut. Then you shake so hard that you swear you can hear your bones rattle.

This isn’t a life. It’s life like the promise of a tomorrow is the only thing getting you through today.

You get on buses with no idea where you’ll be getting off. Pattern disrupter. In the months that you lived with them, you learned something. If your movements are scattered, they become unpredictable—harder to track down. You force them to stay behind while you skitter off, forcing them to review video footage, question people, even sift through garbage and recycling bins for any sign that you’d been there.

It doesn’t make you any less nervous. You know they’re like hunting dogs. You’d love to believe that you’ve tried their patience enough for them to abandon the chase, but thinking like that gets you caught. Complacency will get you caught faster than anything.

The money folded and sealed in an envelope in your bag is dwindling though. Even for as frugal as you’ve been, food costs money—clothes cost money. Boxes of hair dye and bus tickets cost money. And you can’t stay anywhere long enough to hold down a job to recuperate what you’ve lost.

It feels hopeless. You trudge back to your motel room after grabbing a bite to eat at the pub down the road and feel like maybe this is purgatory. Maybe you died a long time ago, long before you got away from them, and this long path you’ve been burning across the country is just the long descent into the underworld. You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut for a second by the door before unlocking it to go inside for the night.

You trip over something. It catches you so off guard that you almost break your nose on the carpeted floor, arms almost not swinging out in time to catch you.

“Whoops. Sorry, kitty—took a lil’ tumble there, huh?” a familiar burr says from somewhere behind you by the door. “Gotta watch where you step.” He chuckles a bit under his breath, pulling back the leg he’d stuck out to trip you.

Your body goes ice cold on the floor. The door clicks shut behind you; the deadbolt sliding into place is deafening in the silence. The thick knot in your belly expands until you think you might throw up. The only nonsensical thing you can think is that you hope the motel manager won’t be upset that you’ve ruined the carpet.

You hear the muffled sound of knees hitting the floor and then a hand tangles in your hair, wrenching your head back. “Oh Jesus, look at the state of her, Lt.”

“Looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

The second voice is rough, like logs rolling over water, clattering into each other. It comes from the other end of the room, way into the darkness. They didn’t bother to turn the lights on, perhaps in an effort to make sure your guard was down. Fear grips the inside of your chest. Behind you, Johnny holds your head up high enough that you’re forced to stare at the patch of darkness from which Ghost materialises when he flicks on the bedside lamp.

On the surface, he sounds almost amused, but as long as it’s been, you’re still attuned to the undercurrent of anger in his voice. His patience has been tried over weeks of chasing after you. He almost looks like he’s put on mass since you last saw him over a month ago, but that could just be the perspective of looking up at him from the floor. His face is still covered in the same half skull mask as always, exposing the shaved blond hair on his head. His eyes are narrowed though, terrifyingly mad.

“Poor baby,” Johnny murmurs, nuzzling into the back of your head. He props himself over you, not leaning his whole weight down onto your prone body, but trying to get as close as possible to you while still forcing you to stare up at Ghost. “Did we give ye a wee fright? Is that why ye ran off? I missed ye so, so bad, baby.”

“She ran off because she’s been spoiled,” Ghost snaps. He sits on the edge of the bed and it creaks under his weight when he shifts a little closer to the edge, leaning closer to where you’re lying on the floor.

“I ken, I ken, Lt,” Johnny sighs, plastering sloppy, wet kisses into the side of your neck, fitting his mouth briefly into the crook of it, into the meat of your shoulder. “Cannae help myself, she’s just so—ah, kitty, am really sorry but you’ve really pissed Simon off.”

“No—no, please—” you gasp, breath splintered into short hitches. “H-how’d you—how’d you e-even find—”

Johnny shakes you by the hair, a bit rougher than usual. Anger finally leaking out like a drip from a loose spigot. You yip at the pain. “Of course we were gonna find you—Lt, ye hearing this? She thought she could outsmart us.”

“Pet’s don’t know any better,” Ghost says dismissively. It makes you feel queasy to hear him say that like you’re not even in the room. “Needs a lesson in not making us run halfway across the country after her. Get her on the bed, pup.”

“No, no, get OFF—” you try to yell, then gag when Johnny shoves two fingers into your mouth, pushing them almost to the back of your throat.

When the urge to choke abates, you close your teeth over his fingers, flirting with the idea of just biting all the way down and taking them off. Only the fact that you’ve never done something like that before keeps you from instinctually biting through. Johnny laughs breathlessly when he feels your teeth flirt over his fingers though.

“Bite down,” Johnny dares you, voice quivering with smugness and rage. “Bite down ‘n see what happens to ye. Have nae gotten my cock wet in a fuckin’ month because you’ve been gone and Simon—”

“Quit talking to the pet like she understands,” Ghost snaps, finally standing up, towering over the two of you. You can’t help staring at his mud covered boots still rooted in front of your face. “On the bed. Now.”

You howl when Johnny takes his fingers out of your mouth and wrenches you to your feet, struggling when he coos and frogmarches you to the bed. No matter how hard you struggle though, you can’t break the way he has your arms twisted behind your back. It’s a short walk too, only a few steps, and then Johnny shoves you roughly onto the bed, clambering over you again. His hand forces your face into the mattress, not paying any mind to the way you grunt because your nose bends uncomfortably against it.

“Always fuckin’ whining,” Johnny growls into your ear, fully pissed off now. His anger is electric, rippling down the length of you. “On and on and on—’n I’ve been so fuckin’ good to ye. Have nae even been a little mean. Being a fuckin’ brat to me and leavin’ me and makin’ us hunt ye down like dogs.”

You can hear that he’s working himself up to a fever pitch, growing angrier and angrier. It terrifies you to think that you’re trapped under him, nowhere to go. Somehow, it’s a mercy when the bed dips again under Ghost’s weight and he pulls Johnny back by the shoulder, giving his cheek a little tap when Johnny growls and tries to bend back down.

“You have all the time in the world with her, pup,” Ghost says, giving Johnny a rougher shove. “Get undressed. Can’t fuck her in your civvies.”

“Yeah…yeah, yer right,” Johnny mumbles to himself, getting off you.

Your head automatically twists over your shoulder, eyes following him. It’s easy to see in the spare seconds you get before you try to make a break for it again that he looks haggard, beard grown out a bit more than usual. Ghost usually makes him keep it short and tight, but apparently weeks on the road have tempered that military expectation a bit.

His eyes are wild, electric blue, hardly blinking for how hard he stares at you. You tell yourself that you haven’t, on some small level, missed his pretty face. His arms bulge around the tight shirt that he easily strips off, pulling it off one handed from the back of his neck.

You hear him kick off his boots somewhere in the distance, but when you try to scramble off the bed, Ghost tips you over onto your bed and presses you down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He’s a bit less dressed now—hoodie pulled off and boots and jeans piled on the floor somewhere. Mask off. Familiar scars cut across his face—old burn marks and white spidery lines of fresh skin. Rougher than Johnny, not a pretty man; maybe without the layers of scarring he’d be a proper masculine kind of handsome, but with them, he only seems dangerous. Someone to avoid.

He doesn’t say anything when he stares down at you. He says enough like that. He looks over his shoulder, away from you. “Johnny?”

“Lt?” Johnny’s at attention now, stripped naked and eager. When you glance down, his cock is already flushed and hard, excitement making him almost vibrate.

“Help me get her naked and then you’ll get her mouth, alright?”

You’re already struggling before the words come out of his mouth, frantically trying to push Ghost off you and opening your mouth to scream—the piercing shrill of it bleats out of you for half a second—before a big hand wraps around your neck and Ghost turns back to you. It shuts you up in a heartbeat. Not once in the months you were with them has Ghost looked half as terrifying; you’ve had a belt taken to your ass until the blood pooling under the skin almost burned, you’ve been manhandled and roughly positioned and been bent into shapes that your body could only just accommodate, but you’ve never, until now, actually worried for your safety somehow.

“You scream—” he starts, moving his hand up just a little to grab you by the jaw and twist your head to make you stare at the bedside table, where a glock lays flat under the glow of the lamp, “—and I shoot anyone that comes through that fuckin’ door. We clear?”

You nod once. Sweat pouring out of every other gland, but the saliva running dry in your mouth. You lick your lips and swallow, hummingbird heart going wild in your chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Johnny mumbles, coming up behind Ghost to wrap his arms around him as best he can, planting a row of kisses into his shaved head. “Missed it so bad, I need ta—need ta—”

“Her clothes, Johnny. Take ‘em off.”

You only put up a little fight when Ghost works on unzipping and pulling down your jeans. It feels hopeless to try. Johnny almost tears your shirt in two to get it off, only being a bit gentler when you yelp. He can’t help groping at your chest when the shirt is pulled off you and tossed somewhere else in the room, big hands fitting over your breasts and plucking your nipples, twisting them like you’re just a toy for Johnny to play with. He slithers down onto his belly for a second to pop a nipple into his mouth, switching between kissing and sucking at the beaded nub like he can’t tell what he missed more.

Your panties get ripped clean in two. The sob comes out of your chest unbidden, tears finally spilling out. Ghost’s patience seems finally at its end. His eyes are black even in the light, all pupil. Your legs try to close instinctively, but he slots himself between them so you can only clamp your legs around his waist, stuck staring at the way his hand reaches for his boxers only long enough to pull the elastic under his balls. His cock is so heavy with blood that it droops, the tip dewy.

Your nipples gleam with spit when Johnny finally takes his mouth off them, sitting back on his haunches and spreading his legs. It’s all happening so fast—there isn’t a right place to look. Either the monstrous cock between your legs that already has you feeling twangs of phantom pain knowing that Ghost isn’t going to even bother stretching you on his fingers before fucking you, or the pretty cock that Johnny is already rubbing against your lips, painting with his precome. You flinch when you feel Ghost spit on your sex; he doesn’t try to rub it in.

“Simon” he pants, fingers tangling in your hair again to keep your head still when you try to turn away. “Simon, please, can I—I need ta come so bad. Please, please.”

You almost say something and then Ghost pushes his cock in to the hilt in one brutal plunge. Your mouth opens on a ragged gasp and Johnny keens, fingers clenching so hard in your hair that he almost tears it out by the roots. The tip of his cock stays flush against your lips, even split open on your gasp.

“Please, sir, please,” he begs, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Aching and desperate. Holding himself back only because he needs permission to put his cock anywhere in you, just like he did all those weeks ago back in their house out in the countryside. The one you thought you thought you’d escaped.

Ghost chuckles, groaning at the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. “Go ahead, boy. Give your cock a squeeze.”

That’s all it takes. Johnny pushes past your lips roughly, no finesse or gentleness at all. Maybe the capacity for it is gone after going without you for so long. You choke when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, tears making your vision blur. Johnny preens and gushes over you, unable to stop babbling about how hot and tight your throat is, how much he missed it.

“Oh shit, sir, she’s—” Johnny gasps, sinking into your mouth again and again, sweaty hand still clutching your hair. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You feel close to the point of breaking, tight after a month on the lam, too tight for someone Ghost’s size to shove their cock into you without prep. You tell yourself that at least he bothered to spit on you, but lube would help a lot more. Too bad for you. His hands fit over your waist and hold tight, making sure you know that there’s nowhere for you to go. The first few thrusts are rough but slow enough to keep you from tearing—a small mercy, but probably not for your sake.

“I get—I get her pussy after, right, sir?” Johnny asks desperately.

“Dunno, Johnny,” Ghost muses, licking his lip. His thrusts get more brutish, faster; your teeth would be clacking together if Johnny’s cock wasn’t stuck halfway down your throat. “Gonna be a bit sloppy. Might not be tight enough for you after this.”

“S’okay, sir,” he whines, glancing back down at you. Fingers petting your cheek and tracing over your throat, trying to feel himself from the outside. “Jus’ need…oh fuck, please, it’s so good—oh Christ, missed it. I’ll take anythin’, sir, please.”

“Christ, alright, puppy. You can have a turn after. Been a good boy, huh?”

You can only stare when Ghost lifts a hand from your waist to reel Johnny in by his mohawk, tugging him in for a wet kiss, still thrusting into your pussy all the while. Just a toy between them for their cocks while Ghost licks into Johnny’s mouth and mutters sweet nothings to him. Johnny moans into the kiss, sucking Ghost’s tongue when it’s offered to him and looking dazed, come-drunk. All fucked out and flushed, hips unconsciously pumping forward, just absently rutting.

“Got our girl back, right?” Ghost murmurs, letting go of Johnny’s hair to smooth down his head and neck, making him preen. “Such a smart puppy.”

“Yeah, I’m good, sir.” He sounds out of his mind, slurring his words. Praise gets him like nothing else; it’s not easily given by Ghost, not handed out for nothing. “Did good…’m a good boy…”

The corners of your lips feel like they might crack. It’s hard to be careful with your teeth when you’re so overwhelmed, but luckily Johnny doesn’t mind it a bit rough. He hiccups when your teeth scrape over his cock a bit. He lips at Ghost’s mouth, dragging his tongue over the scar that bisects the corner of Ghost’s lips. When Ghost finally pulls away from Johnny’s mouth, a thin string of saliva pulls and then bends with the distance, finally snapping off and leaking onto your chest.

Your flinch and squeak draws Ghost’s attention back down to you.

You try to think of yourself looking down on the three of you instead of in it, but it’s hard. For as much as it seems like you’re just a toy between them, Ghost makes an effort to get you off, slipping a hand down to jiggle his thumb over your clit, rubbing it just the way you like. It’s sick how well he knows your body by now, how it takes almost nothing to push you to the edge of coming, core tight with the heat of it.

“Gonna come?” Ghost taunts, scooping a hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, hitting a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, cunt flexing over his cock. You garble around Johnny’s cock as if to say something, but all it does is make Johnny groan and slump over you, holding himself upright with a hand on the mattress. His abs flex every time he fucks into your mouth. “Pussy this close to coming—you must’ve starved it. Good thing you didn’t let someone fuck you while we were looking. Woulda torn them apart.”

You can see the real threat in his eyes at that. There’s no way you would’ve, but the real danger of it crackles in the room. You feel like you’ll slip and touch the third rail if you so much as twitch under his glare. His jealousy at the thought makes him look like an angry god, chest heaving with every breath as he fucks you.

“My baby wouldnae—” Johnny gasps, sinking his cock all the way into your throat and groaning at the squeeze, “—no, Si, she’s—ah, fuck me, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck—Si, she wouldnae do that to us. No fuckin’ way.”

“She’d have a lot of making up to do then, huh?”

“She’s a good girl, sir, ‘promise. Oh, jus’ look at her,” Johnny gushes, sweat dripping down onto your face from how he’s curled over you. “So, so pretty. Maybe I dinnae take her…take her on enough walks.”

“Yeah…” You feel your skin crawl when Ghost stares down at you, not convinced. “Of course, pup.”

You know there’s no way he believes that. When they drag you home, you don’t think you’ll see the sunlight for weeks, never mind have Johnny take you on ‘walks’. Ghost’s smothering presence will take on a whole new meaning; he’ll snuff out the sun before he lets you walk in it alone ever again.

Someone in the room adjacent to yours slams their fist into the wall a couple of times, jolting you out of your thoughts. The headboard must really be knocking against the wall. Ghost and Johnny ignore it though, Johnny so close to coming that he can hardly even form a sentence, solely focused on spearing between your lips. You can feel Ghost reaching his end too, fucking you with a single-minded intensity. Breath snorting out of his nose like a bull. The hair on his chest is matted with sweat, curls whorling around his nipples.

You almost choke when Johnny comes down your throat without warning, hilting his cock until his balls brush your chin and his hand in your hair tightens painfully. He groans, drawn out and long, pained. It splashes against the back of your throat, almost familiar. You’ve done this before. You can do this without falling down a cliff and never climbing back up.

He pulls his cock out before he’s finished, striping your face with come, twitching when he has to hold his cock from how sensitive it is. You instinctively close your eyes, grateful when you feel his come tag your eyelid.

You hope it’s almost over, but Ghost hasn’t come yet and you know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. When Johnny pulls away to collapse onto his back on the bed, trying to catch his breath and dragging his hand over his stomach, Ghost hunches over you. He drags his tongue over your cheek, wet and nasty, and your brain almost switches off when you realise that he’s licking Johnny’s come off your cheek.

“There we go,” he snarls, feeling you flex around him, the little tell-tale spasm of your approaching orgasm. “Atta girl—gonna come on my cock? A little wet sorry for running away?”

You try to say something, but your throat is raw, voice too hoarse for words. Even your lips feel puffy, swollen. Talking hurts. It doesn’t matter though, Ghost doesn’t wait for your response. He pumps into you like a machine, pulling his cock all the way out before pushing back in again. Your stomach cramps with the worry that he might miss and try pushing into the other hole.

You wish there was a way around it, but you can’t avoid it slamming into you, a white hot wave cresting over you. You come so hard it hurts, milking Ghost’s cock and pushing him over the edge too; he pants harsh, animalistic sounds into your throat, cutting himself off by sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead, making you howl. There’s no condom to keep his come from pumping into you; just a big, heavy man smelling of gunpowder and salt hovering over you, elbow propped on the mattress beside your head and making you go a bit crazy at the scent of him everywhere around you.

He peels himself off of you after what feels like an hour, soft cock pulling out of you and making you clench down on nothing. You didn’t remember how much being empty can hurt. You try to roll away from him and onto your side, maybe squeeze yourself into a fetal position, but Ghost collapses down beside you and plants a hand on the centre of your chest, holding you in place. Never any respite.

You croak a tired little, “Ow.” All it does is make Ghost snort softly.

Your body feels like one livid bruise in the aftermath, limbs loose at your sides. You couldn’t move even if you tried, even if you thought you could make a break for it. It would hardly be worth it. You let your eyes slide shut when Ghost runs a hand up and down your chest, a little comforting gesture.

“Simon,” Johnny whines from beside you. Your brows scrunch, annoyed at his voice breaking the silence. “Please.”

You hear Ghost sigh. “Now?”

“Cannae wait—please.”

You wait to hear Johnny and Ghost get up. Maybe there’s something they have to do—maybe they drove to the motel and there’s still something in the car.

A hand grabs you by the hip.

“Turn over, pet,” Ghost instructs, flipping you onto your stomach without waiting for you to acquiesce. “Promised Johnny a turn with your pussy before we leave.”

Your eyes go wide.

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breadly-art · 2 months

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I often see people saying that Miguel hates children. All I can say to such people is that their views are too shallow. And that's why they're wrong:

Let's think logically. Miguel, like the entire HQ, is sure that the violation of canon events will result in the destruction of the entire universe. He has reason to believe so - before his eyes, the whole world disappeared through his own fault. That's it, it's all gone. Of course, Miguel will be sure that it is not worth violating the canon. Moreover, he knows that the universes are connected, and if you lose too many of them, then the entire multiverse will collapse, this is logical. It's like a spider web - the more holes there are in it, the sooner it will break.

Miguel leads a squad that maintains the stability of the canon by dealing with anomalies. He must be sure that each of the spider-men will be reliable enough to prevent a violation of the canon event. He has no other option, he will not just forget about the minor mistakes of any spider-man from the HQ. Not because he's angry and strict, but because the safety of all universes depends on it, God damn it.

He's in charge for a reason. He knows what he is doing and why, he knows what a mistake will cost. "I don't always like what I have to do. But I know that I have to be the one to do it." He knows that the canon event often costs someone their life, he knows that some spider-man will feel bad about it, but are there any other options?... Yes, in the question "one person or the whole universe" he chooses the universe, but that doesn't make him an asshole. He's trying to save millions of lives in the only reliable way he knows how.

And now back to his "hatred of children." Miles. Yes, I can understand his desire to save his father, but it could destroy his universe. And yes, it is not a fact that it will be destroyed, but judging by what Miguel saw, the chance of the collapse of the universe is GREAT. And it's not just about Miles's universe, it's about all universes. A web with many holes breaks faster. If saving the universes costs Miles's father's life, if Miguel has to keep Miles at HQ by force to prevent him from making a mistake, he will do it. I don't think Miguel likes it. But he knows he has to be the one to do it.

Gwen. A lot of people didn't like the way he treated her, but listen - there were reasons for that. As I said, Miguel needs to be confident in every spider-Man at HQ, it's a matter of keeping the universes safe. And Gwen let Miles go, let go of someone whose actions could destroy everything. Miguel can't count on her the way he used to, not after she let Pavitr's canon break and didn't catch Miles. He sends her home not because he hate her, but because the HQ is not a place for those who think with their gut. Here you need to think with your head, only this can be 100% sure. You can't make mistakes. HQ must not allow the disruption of the canon. They must not allow the chance of death of millions of people. So Miguel wasn't mad at Gwen. He was disappointed in her - because she couldn't make a hard choice.

For the same reason, he doesn't take Peter B. on a mission. Peter didn't stop Miles when he had the chance, but unlike Gwen, he hasn't questioned Miguel's theory about the canons yet. Peter believes him, but is clearly not sure what to do next. That's why Miguel takes Jess and Ben with him, the ones he's 100% sure of.

Next... Gwen's father. No one, damn it, keeps their finger on the trigger when they don't really want to shoot. Do you think he wouldn't have shot his own daughter? Oh no, he would have done it. And Miguel understood that - that's why he intervened, even though he shouldn't have been there. After all, remember - a vulture could disrupt some kind of canon event. But which one? Facereveal Gwen in front of her father, perhaps? Nevertheless, Miguel intervened. After all, he knows what it's like to deal with an Irish father named George, who is ready to raise his hand against a child.

And then, even seeing Gwen's insecurity after everything that happened, he suggests that she "join the club", he knows what it's like to be all alone. And he clearly doesn't want that for Gwen.

Miguel is not a bad character. Not a villain. He doesn't hate children. He's just trying to protect the universes the best he can, and he's ready to be the one who has to make the hard choice. I don't think he likes it all. He keeps doing it because he doesn't know any other way. He tried to find it - and the more he tried, the more damage he did. He’s only on the “prevent other worlds from being disrupted” step of this process and he’s already way past worn out.

Look at it from this angle - if you had been working on a project for a very long time, which you had already failed once (and it was so terrible that you don't want to remember), which required all your time and effort, required you to lead people you didn't know very well, required you to constantly make choices, after which you would they always looked askance, and you yourself would feel extremely lousy, but which would clearly benefit many people... And then there was a high chance that another person would ruin everything for you, because he has another untested work plan. And this person is not listening to you, this person is not interested in your arguments, he is absolutely stubborn. Wouldn't you freak out about it? Wouldn't you be angry? Wouldn't you try to stop this person with all your might? This is not hatred of children. It's a damn fear.

#breadly posts #miguel o'hara #atsv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel 2099 #astv miguel #miguelito #miguel spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #text post

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literaila · 2 months

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cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air.

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long.

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely.

it's nice. easy.

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow.

and you feel that way now when the kids show up.

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment).

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them.

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment.

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency.

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something.

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face.

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.”

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst.

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.”

“he’s not sleeping.”

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.”

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?”

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure.

(you're sure. it's your fault.)

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?”

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.”

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.”

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.”

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail.

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.”

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad."

"sad?"

"i think he's crying."

megumi snorts.

you blink at her. "are you serious?"

she nods, sullenly.

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler.

there's really no winning here.

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him."

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while.

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way).

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care.

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around.

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it.

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him.

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response.

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead.

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair.

(it's irritatingly soft).

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying."

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying."

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today."

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different.

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again.

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids."

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks."

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing.

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed."

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says.

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?"

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath."

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty."

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning."

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast."

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me."

"well, i want to eat. get up."

"go cook."

"get up."

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?"

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them."

"i was wrong."

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile.

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him.

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty.

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together.

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him.

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed).

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?"

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work."

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap."

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth."

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact."

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space."

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back.

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?"

"yes."

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember."

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers.

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning.

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time.

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick."

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs."

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck.

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you.

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes.

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't."

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies.

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby."

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working."

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you."

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there.

"how are you feeling now, baby?"

"smushed."

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard.

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru.

"yes," he huffs, again.

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow.

work will have to wait. this is much more important.

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

Text

Readin between the lines

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x Fem! Daughter of Hecate Reader

Synopis- both you and clarisse like eachother but Your both to stuborn to admit it

An - HAPPY VALENTINES DAY — THIS IS RUSHED IM SRY 😭😭

You knew clarisse liked you. It was obvious. How she flirted with you, how touchy clarisse was when anyone else seemed to show any interest in you. The fact you two have kissed before didnt help either, but this girl still refuses to tell you she loved you.

And it just so happened your just as bad. Clarisse would lay awake at night regretfully thinking about you and about you and your antics. You wore shorts that showed off your ass just for you to tease her with them. How you would make flirty remarks while clarisse worked out or how you would complain about how hot it was down at the lake while wearing a bikini you knew the girl liked. But you refused to tell clarisse how you liked her.

That seemed to be your relationship a constant back and forth neither girls wanting to admit they liked each-other but sure as hell getting pissed off if either entertained the idea of another girl.

——

“Oh you big baby I bet it’s not even that heavy” you teased leaning back on the bench you sat on. Clarisse dropped a heavy weight on the ground looking over at you. “Oh yeah?” She smiled sarcastically “why don’t you come over here and lift them then”

You rolled your eyes, standing up you walked over towards clarisse. Grabbing the heavy weight with both of your hands you still struggled to lift it.

After a few seconds you dropped it down stumbling back into clarisse. “Not that heavy right?”

“Shut up” You laughed looking up at the girl, smiling as she hugged you from behind with her leaning down coming closer to you.

About to kiss the scene was disrupted as silena entered the arena. “Hey Lise, Chiron wants you both” she chuckled dragging her finger between you two “for a meeting or something dont be late Yeah”

The daughter of Aphrodite gave clarisse a teasing Look making the girl sigh annoyingly. “Whatever could silena be implying clarisse” You joked

“You know not everything has to have an underlying meaning” she looked down at you, smiling you leaned into her more letting your lips graze one another’s. “Yeah but where’s the fun in that” kissing her quickly, you grabbed clarisses hand and started to lead her towards the big house

Gods you were going to be the end of her

——

“Ladies, thank you for coming and meeting us today” Chiron nodded towards you and clarisse as you entered the patio.

Mr. D grunted not bothering to look up from his cards. Chiron looked over at him with a look of dissapointment before facing you two once again. “So why did you need to see us” clarisse shifted around slightly before crossing her arms.

“Well as you know the summer is about to start, and while quest have not been given in the recent years I am in need of you two to find something for me” Chiron held is hands infront of him as he spoke. You didn’t look up but you could tell by how clarisses breath changed that she was more than excited to take this quest. “In flordia, towards Venus beach you will find an abandoned fair grounds, built many years ago by one of Mr.Ds here cults. After a large org—“

“Bascially the cult disbanded and I left a very important kantharos there and I want it back!” Mr.D sat up annoyed by the entire situation. Chiron rubbed his eyes in the gods childlike display. “Essentially girls we have chosen you two for this quest because clarisse your talent in battle and y/n your talent with magic and connection with the spiritual world, these are both traits you will need in completing this quest”

“Do you accept the damn quest or not” Dionysius sighed opening a new can of Diet Coke

You looked up at clarisse, her following suit and looking down at you. Nodding you faced Chiron once again. “We accept”

———

Sitting in the train station you smiled as clarisse tapped her leg. Finally the girl snapped groaning and standing up. “This is boring— the train won’t be here for another hour can we please go do something”

“And what are we gonna do?” You hummed, continuing to read your book. Clarisse rolled her eyes “I don’t know fucking— maybe we could get some food or something”

“Are You asking me on a Date?” Turning the page you smiled as the girl infront of you continued to get more bc more annoyed. “No I’m not asking you on a date I’m hungry and I want food”

“Then go get food what do you need me for” you continued to tease the woman. Watching as she walked away flustered, it brought a sense of accomplishment towards you— mainly because you loved pissing her off

——

“Okkkkkk— ah! There it is room 256” you smiled placing your key card into the train room door. Opening it and walking inside you and clarisse both paused taking a moment to comprehend the room.

It was small, that you expected. However the design of the room you didn’t. There was a twin sized bed pressed against the wall with a small window right up against it, a matching bed right above closer to the cieling and a flimsy ladder against the wall. Some storage underneath the bottom bunk and a small table at the other end of the tiny room.

“Nice and cozy” clarisse bitterly spoke as she pushed past you into the room. Setting her stuff on the top bunk you raised an eyebrow while closing the door. “Who said you got top bunk, shouldn’t you take the bottom you know just incase we get attacked and I need someone strong to protect me” You chuckled some, leaning against the beds you reached up grabbing one of clarisses curls twirling the hair around your finger.

Clarisse however remained unamused, her right hand finding itself on your hip. “I’m sure you of all people can take care of yourself”

“Yeah but what’s the point if I have you here” flicking the curl away you leaned up like you were going to kiss her, lips brushing and the hot breath of one another grazing each others skin you smiled pulling back and handing clarisse your bag. “Put it up for me yeah? I wanna go check out the train”

“I fucking hate you”

“You’ll get over it”

——

Walking out of the shower hall you headed back to your room. Once inside you stop to take a moment to appreciate Clarisse who was doing pull ups with the bar on the top bed.

Taking in the sight of the girl in her black sports bra and red plaid shorts that coincidencly matched your plaid shorts and black tank top, the first person who came to mind was most likely silena trying to make you two match

Clarisse dropped down from where she had once been up high, she looked confused at your two matching pjs

“Silena?” You playfully asked

“Fucking silena” she complained rubbing her eyes. Shrugging your shoulders you sat down onto your bed looking up at clarisse.

After a few moments she started to go around the room grabbing a few items before setting them on her bed, “what no goodnight kiss?” You continued your teasing strike as clarisse tried to get up on her bed.

She looked down at you with a sarcastic face “really.”

“You know it’s not good romantic practice to denye a woman a kiss”

“That’s ironic coming from you”

“And your a bully, just give me a kiss” you laughed tilting your head. After a few minutes of back and forth clarisse eventually leaned down playing a kiss on your lips. It was short and flustered, you could easily tell she was nervous. But it was still cute none the less. “Happy now?”

“Jumping for joy”

Clarisse rolled her eyes “your so stupid”

——

Two days later the train pulled into its stop at Venus beach flordia, taking your bags both you and clarisse set out looking around for where ever the cult use to be.

Following a long discarded map that Chiron had given in aid on the quest, clarisse had taken the lead charting out the way.

Soon however she came to a stopping point. Grabbing her arm you looked up at the girl with concern. “Your dehydrated, common let’s get you come water”

Clarisse shook her head “no I’m fine..” she stubbornly spoke trying to keep walking

“The quest can wait you need to rest for a moment” grabbing her hand you lead her into a near by cafe.

Ordering two waters and a slice of strawberry shortcake you sat down with the tired girl passing over her drink. Watching as she gulped it down your concern soon dissipating behind you.

You knew you liked clarisse, shit you knew you loved her but for some reason telling her how you felt just.. scared you, you didn’t want to loose her as a friend but at the same time who kisses their friends.

“Dude—“ Clarisse snapped her fingers bringing you out of your head. Now drawn to her attention you watched as she explained the plan. “We’ll wait til night fall, wherever this old cult place use to be I guess was built over with a fair grounds, after some freak accident it was closed down that’s where we’re gonna find Mr.D’s cup ”

Nodding along you took mental notes of the Important stuff. “Ok.. so what we spend five hours at the fair grounds, it’s what 6pm now the sun will set in an hour so at 12 am we head back to the train station inorder to board our next train at one”

she nodded, shaking her leg on the ground you could tell she was anxious to get moving again. Anyone would be lying if they didn’t agree that clarisse was Absolutely beautiful when she was in the middle of plan making.

——

Finding the fair ground was easy, what wasn’t easy though was having to search through everything just to find one stupid cup.

At this point you had been searching for an hour with nothing to prove for it. The only thing you did find was an obscene amount of green slime? Mucus? You didnt care all you knew was that it was acidic. In a fit of disappointment you sat down on one of the horses on the carousel. Rubbing your eyes frustrated you let out a deep sigh trying to calm down.

After a moment you started to hear music play. Looking up confused you saw clarisse standing at the control pad with a smile on her face. The horses started to move up and down, moving in a circle with the broken record music in the background.

Once the ride came to an end you looked at her with a neutral face, your arms crossed.

“What? We’re at the fair we deserve to at least have some fun” she joked.

“What happened to ‘we need to focus on the quest’ ”

Clarisse rolled her eyes “I said that when we first got here, now we’re having a break so do you wanna go again” you tilted your head some with a smile. “Yeah you come ride it with me”

“Ah see I would but who would control the pannel”

The control board sparked with electricty now working on its own. Waving your fingers at clarisse you giggled knowing your magic sometimes freaked her out.

“Whatever I can do that to” she muttered. Taking a seat beside you on a different horse you both remained quiet just looking at one another.

“I use to come to the fair” clarisse sighed.

You looked over confused at the sudden confession though you weren’t complaining. “See my mom would take me every year since I was 5, she was a military officer so she wasn’t around much but she always came home for the fair. That was until I was 9… a monster attacked me and coach hedge brought me to camp.” she paused for a moment, looking up at the dark sky completly unaware how stunning she looked in the golden light. “It been years since I last saw my mom, being here it reminds me a lot of her.. but I’m glad I’m here with you” she looked back down at you.

There was this feeling in the air— almost like you both had something to say but couldn’t find the words to express it.

Just as You opened your mouth to talk the ride jerked forward coming to an abrupt stop, falling off your horse you groaned. Sitting up and rubbing your head you found clarisse kneeling over you trying to help you up. “You allright? Everything still ok”

Nodding you let your head go. “Yeah I’m fine.. the control panel probably stopped working” giving clarisse a comforting smile she calmed down some helping you up.

“Let’s Just Go find the kantharos” clarisses Guard was up once again. You let out a disappointed sigh but agreed, feeling your cheeks grow warm as the taller girl grabbed your hand

——

Time was cutting short, 10:45 pm— the entire fair grounds checked and still no damn goblet. At this point you were convinced this was a gag quest. “There’s one place we haven’t checked” Clarisse sighed crossing her arms.

“Yeah and where’s that”

“The hall of mirrors”

Your playful demeanor soon fell “I’m not going in there” you cautiously spoke.

The stronger girl chuckled. “Why are you scared?” At first she she figured it was a joke, once realizing how serious you were she changed her stance. “What’s wrong with the hall of mirrors”

“It’s common knowledge in the witchcraft world that if you face two mirrors together that evil spirits will have access to the mortal world. Being that I’m a daughter of Hecate I’m at much more risk for danger than you as a daughter of are”

“That would of been great to know before”Clarisse let out an annoyed sigh.

“Well I didnt think we We’re going to have to go inside the damned place” you bit back not appreciating her attitude

Tapping her spear trying to think of what to do, she wasn’t about to drag you into the building but knew she was screwed in there if there was a monster without your help.

After a long moment you groaned holding your head back. “Fine I’ll go if it means finding the kantharos— but don’t say I don’t do shit for you”

—

It was just like clarisse had predicted, the cup was in the middle of the maze, what she didn’t predict was a baby hydra curled up around it.

“Fuck this is a hydra nest?!” You whispered yelled in a panic. Clarisse started inching towards the monster against your better judgement making your whisper curses in Greek at her. “When I say run.. we run” she softly spoke while placing her spear on her back.

“Clarisse don’t do it i will kill you” You threatened as she reached for the kantharos. “Clarisse?!” You spoke against your teeth. The daughter of ares however ignored you, reaching down you watched as she grabbed the cup slowly itching it away from the baby hydra

“RUN!” She yelled grabbing your hand in her free one. The baby hydra quickly woke with its prize now gone.

The screeching monster started to chase you down the maze, breaking multiple mirrors in its fit of rage. You tried not to look back but you couldn’t help. “Shit clarisse look out!” You yelled, letting go of her for a moment you tapped a bracelet on your hand revealing a shield— that you may or may not of stolen from the hephatus cabin— blocking the monsters acidic bile.

That’s what it was, all the slime you found around the park it was hydra venom mentally you beat yourself up at not realizing it sooner

Dodging past multiple dead ins you started to get anxious. Every turn every pause everything felt the same. What if you weren’t moving, what if you didn’t escape. Everything flooding your mind at once you hadn’t realized clarisse practically threw you out the maze.

Taking her spear she tossed the cup to you before using her weapon to seal the metal door shut with the electricity that conducted in the tip.

Pacing back three steps clarisse kept her spear readied waiting for the door to bust down, after what seemed like eternity the monster gave up returning to its spot in the center.

Both of you relaxed immediately. Now with the cup in hand your quest was complete.. “I guess this is it, we take that back to camp and we’ll be named successful victors” she panted slightly helping you up.

“Yeah… orr we could have a little more fun while we’re here. What was that you said about ‘deserving to ride the rides’?” You teased the now flustered girl.

——

For the remaining hour you had rode every ride that you could, it was almost like a date. A date as a real couple.

Ending the night you rode the Ferris wheel with clarisse. Stopping up at the top you took a minute to appericate the view. “You know.. we would of never gotten this if it wasn’t for you” you looked back at clarisse.

“Yeah Well you were helpful in making sure the entire quest went smoothly” she chuckled holding her head down humbly.

“That’s debatable” You laughed leaning back tracing the designs on the cup. “Not really.. you always make things go smoother so it wasn’t really a shock you made this entire shit show actually tolerable”

“Oh was that a compliment clarisse” you gave a small chuckle. Looking up you noticed clarisse staring at you with a certain softness that if anyone at camp had seen it they would of denied it was clarisse.

She shrugged her shoulders some not really sure what to do. Setting the cup aside you leaned forward some. “Well, if it weren’t for you then we could of never found Mr.D’s goblet so.. if anything your the one to thank” you smiled some at her.

It was like a scene out of a movie. Clarisse learned forward bringing her face close to yours. Both of your hearts beating loudly. “I think.. I”

“Yeah” you whispered back, sure you’ve kissed multiple times before but for some reason.. this time felt different.

Pulling eachother Close you slowly kissed clarisse. Each time before it had been a quick kiss. This time however it was slower, more intimate and loving.

Her hands holding your waist with your fingers locked in her curls. The kiss breaking multiple times only to be continued not even a moment later, both of you kissing like you needed it to breathe. You figured you had imagined it, hearing an ‘i love you’ muttered somewhere in the heated scene.

Pulling back panting you looked at clarisse with blown pupiles. “I love you to” You muttered not realizing what you said until you spoke.

“Thank fucking god” clarisse tirelessly spoke before pulling you back into a kiss.

#Spotify #lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom

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doormatty3 · 4 months

Text

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 1 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4134

A/N: This is the first chapter for a (probably) 4-5 chapter fic

Also: Our boy Orm deserves some love so this happened.

Normally, you actually like water; after all, it’s an integral part of your life as a marine biologist.

You’ve spent countless hours immersed in the briny depths, studying the mysteries that lie beneath the surface. In the embrace of the watery depths, you’ve unravelled the secrets of hidden ecosystems, marvelled at the kaleidoscope of marine life, and witnessed the symbiotic dance between predator and prey. The ebb and flow of tides, the rhythmic movement of ocean waves – these are the elements that typically elicit admiration and wonder from you.

However, this affection for water does not extend to rain, especially when it chooses to make an unannounced entrance when you’re out for a walk along the seaside.

As the heavens open up unexpectedly, you find yourself caught off guard, the rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops on the sand disrupts the usual symphony of your thoughts. A muttered curse slips through your lips, a reflexive response to the inconvenience of precipitation, and you hastily reach for your umbrella.

The once-clear sky, a former blue sphere, now cloaks itself in shades of grey, as you struggle with the umbrella, desperately attempting to shield yourself from the sudden downpour threatening to soak you through.

“Thank god,” you mutter under your breath when you finally manage to open the umbrella before being drenched.

As you trudge along the wet sands, your now open umbrella in hand, the lack of shelter becomes painfully apparent. The vast openness of the seaside, which had promised freedom and expansiveness, now offers no refuge from the relentless rain.

The sea, once a source of inspiration, now seems indifferent to your plight, its waves crashing rhythmically as if mocking the irony of a marine biologist seeking escape from the rain.

Amidst the relentless downpour, your attention is drawn to a solitary figure at the edge of the beach. Despite the bad weather and the onslaught of rain, the man remains unwavering.

His gaze is steadfastly directed towards the open expanse of the ocean.

Even from afar you can tell that he’s completely soaked, his blonde hair clings stubbornly to his head, and his clothes adhere to his form like a second skin.

Intrigued by the enigmatic scene, you find yourself pausing in your own battle against the weather, momentarily captivated by the man’s unwavering focus. The rhythmic cadence of the rain seems to fade into the background as you observe the drenched stranger.

Curiosity propels you towards him, each step accompanied by the squelching sound of wet sand beneath your shoes.

Instinctively, you move closer to the man on the edge of the beach, extending the canopy of your umbrella to encompass both of you.

He turns around, surprise evident in his expression, as if awakening from a deep reverie. It becomes clear that your approach went unnoticed, his focus entirely absorbed by the vastness of the open ocean. The sudden shelter you provide seems to bring him back to the present moment.

As your gaze flickers over him, you find yourself inadvertently appreciating the details of his appearance. His smooth skin contrasts with a well-groomed stubble, and his piercing blue eyes hold a hint of depth, perhaps mirroring the expanse of the sea he was lost in moments ago. Expressive eyebrows, a straight nose, and pink lips contribute to an overall attractiveness that stands out even amidst the dampness and the downpour - perhaps the rain even intensified this as your eyes follow the path of a raindrop as it traverses his forehead and nose, eventually dripping from the tip.

Despite the adverse weather, it’s evident that he takes care of himself. The rain reveals the contours of a muscular physique beneath his soaked clothes. A defined chest, broad shoulders, and sculpted arms speak of a physicality that has weathered more than just the current storm.

A quiet “thank you” escapes his lips, accompanied by the subtle curve of a smile that plays on them. As he holds your gaze, his blue eyes reveal more than words convey. There’s an intensity in his look, a depth that suggests the weight of unspoken thoughts resting behind those expressive eyes.

As he breaks the gaze and turns back to the open sea, his presence lingers, all-consuming, and you find yourself unable to simply walk away. Instead, you remain rooted in your spot, holding the umbrella over both of you.

The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves draws your attention, each wave pooling onto the smooth surface of the sand before dispersing like foam. The ocean, in its relentless dance, momentarily recalls its waters, leaving behind a glistening trail of wet sand in its wake.

As you stand there, sheltered under the umbrella, the tableau before you becomes a canvas of contrasts – the vast expanse of the open sea, the ephemeral beauty of the waves, and the tangible presence of the stranger beside you. The sound of raindrops on the umbrella becomes a quiet rhythm, harmonizing with the natural symphony of the seaside.

It really has been ages since you allowed yourself to simply take in the beauty of the ocean and breathe. The thoughts of work, responsibilities, and the hustle of daily life seem to dissolve, rendered insignificant in the face of the vast, timeless expanse of the open sea.

Under the shared umbrella, the ceaseless rhythm of the waves becomes a soothing lullaby, and the salty tang of the sea air fills your lungs with a refreshing breath. The worries and stresses that usually occupy your mind are momentarily eclipsed by the sheer tranquillity of the moment.

With each inhale, you absorb the invigorating sea breeze, and with each exhale, you release any lingering tension. The rain, which was once an inconvenience, now feels like a gentle cleansing, washing away the mental clutter that often accompanies the demands of everyday life.

Normally, your beach walks are just a way to clear your head with familiar surroundings but nothing more than that. So you sift through your thoughts and you ponder the possibility of having seen the man before but his regal demeanour and striking looks leave no trace in your recollections.

Breaking the comfortable silence, you voice your curiosity, “I haven’t seen you here before…” He turns to you, fixing his intense gaze on your face, awaiting your words. “Are you from here?” you inquire.

A subtle smile graces his lips, a fleeting acknowledgement of your question. His hand glides over his chin, tracing the stubble that accentuates his features. Your gaze follows the motion, noting the details - the thickness of his hands, the length of his fingers, and the neatly trimmed nails.

“No,” he begins, and as if sensing your curiosity, he offers a bit more insight, “I’m from far away. I’m… just passing through.”

Despite the cryptic nature of his words, you find yourself captivated by the mysterious charm he exudes. His subtlety and intensity draw you in, leaving you with a desire to unravel the layers behind those enigmatic blue eyes.

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you!” you express with a genuine smile. Taking the initiative, you extend a hand in introduction.

In response to your greeting, he graces you with a full-blown, toothy smile that illuminates his face. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of sunlight dancing on water, and the skin around his eyes crinkles with the warmth of the expression.

You… want to see that more often, you think. You’d like to be the reason for that infectious smile, to be the reason behind the sparkle in his eyes, and to cast away the haunted look that seems to linger within their depths.

“Happy to make your acquaintance,” he responds, his hand enveloping yours with a firm grasp. As his long fingers curl around yours, a subtle current of electricity prickles at the point of contact, and you find yourself missing his touch when he drops your hand.

“I’m Orm,” he introduces himself.

“Orm,” you test the pronunciation of his name, and you catch the flicker of his eyes as they briefly lower to your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name,” you remark, your curiosity piqued.

In response, he shrugs, a somewhat sheepish expression crossing his features. “As I said, I am not from here,” he adds.

“If you ever need a tour guide, let me know,” you offer, extending a friendly invitation. His eyebrows raise in response, and you catch a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “I know a few nice places… some even provide a better view of the ocean.”

As a gust of wind swirls around you, the dampness of your clothes coupled with the cold air sends a shiver down your spine, and goosebumps emerge on your skin. The sudden chill causes you to freeze, the contrast between the warmth of the moment shared under the umbrella and the elements outside becoming palpable.

In contrast, you observe Orm, still drenched but seemingly unaffected by the cold.

The offer to be his tour guide hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, a subtle fear creeps in. Was it too forward? Does he wish to cut the conversation short, politely concealing any desire to decline?

A sense of relief washes over you as Orm’s response breaks the brief tension.

“That would be nice,” he says, his eyes straying back to the expanse of the ocean as if lost in thought.

The soft pitter-patter of the rain envelops you both in a cocoon, creating a serene backdrop to the moment. Despite the logical inclination to seek shelter and escape the rain, something within you resists the notion of leaving. A peculiar reluctance binds you to the spot as if an invisible force tethers you to Orm’s calming presence.

Standing beside him, you feel a sense of grounding and tranquillity it’s a sensation that you haven’t experienced before - well, if you’re honest with yourself, you have felt it before. It’s the same feeling you get near or in the ocean.

Maybe it’s his eyes. His deep, blue eyes seem to hold all the mysteries of the sea, mirroring the tranquil rhythm of the rain and the timeless expanse of the ocean.

____

A few days later you see him again and you find yourself back at the same spot.

Today, the weather is vastly different - there’s no rain, and the sun graces the scene with its warm glow.

As you approach the familiar location, the memories of the previous meeting flicker in your mind. You wonder how Orm will look in the bright sunlight - he had already been a vision when completely drenched.

When he comes into view, you find that he’s even more striking than before,

He is clad in a basic black shirt and matching slacks, the fabric sits snugly on his broad frame, accentuating the contours of his muscular body. The sunlight enhances the contrast, casting a play of shadows that dance along the lines of his thick body.

The blonde hair, now dry and therefore lighter in the sun, is neatly combed back, reflecting the sunlight like strands of golden thread, creating an almost ethereal aura around him.

His gaze is fixed on the sea again. With his head held high and arms folded behind his back, there’s a regal air about him.

“Orm! Hey,” you greet him, genuine warmth in your voice as you approach, happy to see him again. As he turns around to face you, there’s a radiant smile on his lips.

The sunlight adds a gleam to his features as he returns your greeting.

“So, what do you want to see?” you ask Orm, eager to tailor the experience to his preferences. “Have anything in mind?”

He responds with a gracious simplicity, “No, I leave that in your capable hands.”

You can’t help but feel a subtle warmth creeping across your cheeks because he really is rather sweet and charming.

So you clear your throat before speaking, “I promised you some nice places to see the ocean, so let’s do that.”

With a subtle gesture, you signal it’s time to leave, and you start walking with Orm following closely behind. As you set the pace, you observe him adjusting his strides to match yours, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes your heart beat faster. It’s rare that a guy just does that without having to be asked.

He slips his hands into his pockets, seemingly unsure of what to do with them.

“We’re gonna have to drive a bit,” you mention, looking up at Orm, and tugging your lip between your teeth, “Is that fine for you?”

You gesture towards your small blue car and watch Orm’s gaze as his eyes shift from you to the car before nodding slowly, “Sure.”

As you lead the way, Orm walks behind you, and you notice a hesitation in his movements when you reach the car. He doesn’t do anything until you open your door, watching your movements. To you, he looks a bit lost, as if he’s unsure about how to open the door. But you disregard that thought, it is probably just your mind playing tricks.

As you both get into the car, the doors closing with a reassuring thud, you settle into your respective seats.

“If you need more leg space, feel free to adjust the seat,” you offer, considering he is taller than you.

He meets your gaze with those striking blue eyes before nodding, “Sure, but I’ll be fine.”

Orm’s gaze wanders around your car, and you notice his eyes catching on the seashell chain dangling from the rearview mirror. His hand raises, and his fingers delicately trace over the hard exteriors of the shells. The gesture carries a certain intimacy as if he’s unravelling the stories embedded in each shell.

The image in your mind briefly diverges, envisioning those deliberate touches on your skin with the same care and intensity. You swallow dryly as you try to remember why you’re here - to show him some spots, to be his friend, not to fuck him.

As you start the car, the engine humming to life, you catch what seems like a subtle jump in the corner of your eyes from Orm. However, you dismiss it, attributing it to a trick of the mind or perhaps a momentary startle that often accompanies the sudden sounds of a car coming to life.

“Do you mind fastening your seatbelt?” you ask, your concern for safety evident in the request. Sure, he’s muscular and fit but in case of an accident that won’t help him much sadly.

Orm nods in acknowledgement, and his eyes meet yours as you secure your seatbelt before mirroring the motion.

He is rather strange.

_____

The drive unfolds in a quiet contentment, accompanied by the soft murmur of the radio playing music at a low volume. Orm, for the most part, gazes out of the window, seemingly lost in thought or captivated by the passing scenery. As the sunlight plays on his face, casting gentle shadows, you find yourself fascinated by the play of light, accentuating his features.

At some point you start humming, caught in the melody of a song and even sing quietly along. After a few beats you notice that Orm’s gaze is fixed on you now, an intensive look in his blue eyes as he studies you with a depth that makes you feel vulnerable.

As you become aware of it, a blush creeps across your cheeks. To your surprise, Orm responds with one of those sweet smiles before breaking eye contact and redirecting his attention to the scenery outside the window again.

“We’re here,” you announce to Orm, bringing the car to a stop. The engine’s hum fades as you turn it off, and you both step out.

You brought him to a medium-high cliff site.

The cliff, standing just a few feet above the ocean, is characterised by weathered stones, carved over time by the relentless touch of the water. It’s not a typical beach setting, but the raw beauty of the scene never fails to captivate you.

Below, the waves crash with a rhythmic symphony, their energy echoing against the stone walls in a natural percussion. Each surge sends sprays of seawater into the air, catching the sunlight like a cascade of liquid diamonds before dissipating into the sea breeze.

The sun, hanging high in the sky, bathes the entire scene in a warm, golden glow. It casts its warm embrace upon the waves, creating a dazzling display as the light interplays with the water that reflects the brilliance of the sun. The golden rays catch in the frothy crests of the wave.

A small path, worn by time and exploration, winds its way down the cliffside side presumably leading to a beach down below.

In the stillness of this remote haven, away from the clamour of the city and the watchful eyes of the world, the air carries a purity that is both invigorating and calming. As you close your eyes and inhale deeply, the crisp, clean air fills your lungs, creating a sense of tranquillity that is uniquely serene.

As you stand there a realization dawns upon you - you’ve never brought someone here before. Yet, as you stand there with Orm, the decision to share this sacred place with him feels instinctive, as if his presence harmonizes with the essence of the surroundings.

Deep within your consciousness, a recognition stirs, an understanding that his eyes mirror the tranquil beauty of this place. There’s an unspoken connection between him and the sea, a sentiment that resonates with the rugged cliffs, crashing waves, and untamed nature surrounding you both. It’s as if his very presence is an extension of the landscape - a kindred spirit to the ocean.

“Beautiful,” Orm’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie, prompting you to turn around and face him, finding that his gaze is fixed on you, not on the breathtaking scenery that surrounds you.

“Yeah, I come here to think - I just feel like I can breathe here,” you share, offering a glimpse into the personal significance this place holds for you.

As you speak, you notice that Orm’s eyes remain glued to your form, not wandering to the sea. His intense gaze seems to linger on you as if captivated by something beyond the natural beauty of the landscape. You feel your heartbeat in your whole body and electricity coursing through your skin.

Orm steps closer his intense blue eyes never leaving yours. With a gentle touch, he lifts a wayward lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face and tucks it behind your ear.

The gesture is tender, a subtle connection that transcends words. The proximity and the soft touch create a moment suspended in time, the crashing waves and the untouched beauty of the surroundings fading into the background.

Your breath catches in your throat, momentarily you forget to breathe as you feel his warm skin on your face.

You can’t help but notice the vibrant glow in Orm’s eyes. The sunlight catches in the deep blue hues, and they seem to come alive with a vivid intensity. His gaze, vibrant and open, mirrors the brilliance of the sun that bathes the surroundings.

At that moment, his eyes are a reflection of the untamed beauty of the sea, filled with depths and mysteries that seem to echo the vastness of the ocean.

Orm’s proximity brings with it an enveloping scent that fills the air around you. It’s a fragrance that captures the essence of the sea, a symphony of the breeze, sea salt, and the unmistakable aroma of the beach.

As you breathe in, the familiar notes of the sea transport you to the shoreline, the rhythmic sounds of the waves echoing in your mind.

It is as if he’s water itself.

In the silence, with Orm’s hand gently cradling the side of your face, you notice the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. In a moment of courage, you decide to close the distance.

With a small, bold step on your toes, you reach for his lips, closing the gap between you and Orm. The kiss is a gentle meeting, a fusion of shared connection and unspoken emotions. The crashing waves and the sea breeze seem to hold their breath as if nature itself is pausing to witness this intimate exchange beneath the warm glow of the sun.

Orm’s response is immediate and enveloping. Instead of pulling back, he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you even closer against his frame. The kiss deepens a mutual exchange that goes beyond words. The embrace is strong and intimate as if the crashing waves below have found their echo in the connection between you and Orm.

Time seems to slow, and the kiss becomes a shared moment suspended in the tapestry of the cliffside sanctuary. The scent of the sea, the warmth of the sunlight, and the touch of his lips create a harmonious symphony, blending with the timeless rhythm of the waves below.

You feel Orm’s stubble against your skin. The subtle scratch of his facial hair becomes a grounding force, connecting you to the present moment, reminding you that this is happening.

It is as if your entire being comes alive.

Every touch, every nuance of the kiss, is a vibrant testament to the living, breathing connection between you and Orm.

Breathless, you break the kiss, and as you look at Orm, he appears positively ravishing. The sea breeze plays with his tousled hair, and the sunlight casts a golden glow upon his features.

His eyes reflect a sense of wonder as if the shared moment was something extraordinary and beyond expectation. And then, with a captivating smile, he pulls back slightly, tracing his tongue over his bottom lip, savouring the taste of the kiss.

“That was unexpected,” Orm says, his intense gaze unwavering as he keeps his eyes firmly on you.

“Unwelcome?” you question, searching for reassurance.

“No, I didn’t say that. It was most welcome,” he assures you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a genuine appreciation for the shared moment.

“It’s different from what I thought or expected,” Orm mumbles quietly, his expression turning thoughtful, the words almost lost in the hushed tone.

“What?” you ask, a hint of confusion in your voice, urging him to repeat himself since you didn’t quite catch what he was saying.

“Oh, nothing,” Orm dismisses with a subtle smile, as if choosing to keep certain thoughts close to himself and not to elaborate further.

You lose your train of thought as soon as Orm reaches for your hand, giving it a subtle, reassuring squeeze, telling you without words that you shouldn’t worry about it.

Orm gently releases your hand, his attention drawn to the scenic surroundings. Taking a few steps forward, he moves closer to the edge of the cliff, where he peers down at the undulating water below.

In the soft glow of the sunlight, his features come alive, it paints him with warmth, casting a radiant glow that enhances every detail. The light highlights the slight tousle of his hair as the wind delicately weaves through it.

Orm turns to you again, his eyes reflecting a deep appreciation for the surroundings. “I can understand why you come to this place,” he says, his voice carrying a sincere tone. “It really is something special.“

You nod in agreement and offer a warm smile. “Are you hungry?” you ask because the rumble in your own stomach suggests it’s time for a meal. Orm seems to ponder for a moment, considering the idea, and then he agrees with a subtle nod.

Curiosity piqued, you ask, “What do you feel like eating?”

His response is straightforward. “I’d like a burger with fries and a Guinness.”

A grin spreads across your face as you reply, “I know a spot that serves good burgers. I’m not too sure about the Guinness though - but I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Orm nods in satisfaction and you suggest getting back to the car.

“Lead the way, oh guide of tours,” Orm says, his choice of words eliciting a snort from you at the quirky phrasing.

As you both settle into the car, you take the driver’s seat and start the engine.

Without many words, Orm carefully places a hand on your thigh.

Initially, it’s just the featherlight touch of his fingertips, but when he senses your ease, he gently lays his hand down, spreading his fingers to cover as much space as possible.

The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric of your jeans, a searing heat that radiates from your leg, enveloping your entire body. Turning your head towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you and in response, you offer a warm smile.

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no-road-home · 14 days

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Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern on Backerkit now!

Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern is a GMless one-to-three shot TTRPG based on games like MF0: Firebrands and The Sundered Land. It's a collection of 20 mini-games where former adventurers open a tavern together and reintegrate into society after a life on the road.

What happens after the adventure? What does daily life in a fantasy world look like? Stewpot draws inspiration from stories like Dungeon Meshi, Redwall, Frieren, and Bartender, as well as various aspects of D&D. It's a great way to wrap up a long-running fantasy TTRPG campaign.

Start a garden, cook monsters, run a festival booth, reforge old weapons, flirt with mysterious strangers, and more in a new version of the game with tons of art and new storybook-style layout!

(more info and full description of the mini-games in the read more!)

The structure of the game is based on characters having an Adventurer Job, with Adventurer Experiences that represent their abilities and powers, and a Town Job with Town Experiences. You can make new characters just for the game, or bring in old characters and recreate them with the existing Experiences or write your own.

As you play the game, you'll cross off Adventurer Experiences as you let go of them or let them fade into the background, and gain new Town Experiences that take their place. Along the way you'll upgrade your Tavern and give each other Keepsakes!

Games from the old Itch.io PDF version (0.41):

The First Step: Before you decided to put down roots here, before you found this group of friends, what were you doing? What was the first thing you learned about how to live in town?

NPC Sidequest: Your adventuring days may be over, but there are plenty of people in town that could use your help.

Wear and Tear: There’s always something to fix, or clean, or pay off.

Market Day: You never would have guessed how many things you need just to keep a tavern running.

Homegrown: There’s something special about using ingredients grown nearby. Why not give growing your own a try?

Sliced: Sometimes supply routes get disrupted. Or maybe you just want to stand out from the rest of the taverns. Whatever the reason, you’re playing this game because you want or need to do one thing: cook with monster parts.

Romancing a Stranger: Someone in the tavern makes eye contact with you, and their gaze lingers a little longer than you’d expect. Your co-workers urge you on, and make every excuse they can to send you over to talk to the lovely Stranger.

Off the Clock: Where do you go after the tables are wiped down? Who’s heard every story you have about the worst people who have walked in?

A Friendly Tavern Brawl: Every tavern has its rowdy patrons. You know they’re good at heart, but sometimes when the ale is flowing and spirits are high, things get a little out of hand. How do you handle the situation?

Festival Day: Your town has a few festival days a year, and they’re some of your busiest. How do you prepare? How do you handle the influx of people?

A Bard's Tale: During your time as an adventurer, you accomplished many daring deeds. In fact, some of those deeds are retold to this day by travelling bards.

A Glass of the Gods: Sometimes a troubled adventurer will come in, looking for answers, and letting them drink themselves into oblivion is the wrong answer. It's up to you to mix the perfect drink, something perfect for the situation that can push the adventurer to look inside and find the answer on their own.

A Distinguished Guest: Someone important is in town, and they’re already almost here. The tavern has to be at its best for this guest. After all, they might leave a generous tip.

In the Rhythm of Things: Time passes. Rough edges are sanded down. Before you know it, life in town has become like breathing. You gather in your favorite part of the tavern and wonder where the time has gone.

New games for this crowdfunding campaign:

Shields and Skillets: Enchantments are volatile things, especially when they sit unused for long periods of time. You have to let go of your old equipment before it’s too late.

Shelter from the Storm: Early one morning, you feel it. A familiar ache in your bones. Something is coming.

A Funeral: As an adventurer, you said farewell many times. Sometimes it was only temporary. Most of the time, it wasn't.

Retracing: You've left town for something: an errand, a vacation, an old favor. Suddenly, you recognize the route you're traveling. You've been this way before, during your adventuring days.

A Fleeting Memory: Something about the way the fire flickers lingers in your mind. The smell of hay and clover brings a tear to your eye. A fading memory resurfaces.

A Familiar Face: An old friend you haven't seen in a while has stopped by. Why not show them around the town and the tavern?

#ttrpg #my games #indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpgs #stewpot #stewpot: tales from a fantasy tavern #backerkit #crowdfunding #fantasy #story games

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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again.

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes.

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now.

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over.

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat.

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks.

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place.

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response.

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads.

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response.

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”

“Kk! C u soon <3”

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup.

Lots and lots of fucking syrup.

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning.

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty.

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning.

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee.

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words.

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more.

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues.

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear.

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup.

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?”

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes.

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.”

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment.

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun.

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode.

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree.

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy?

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand.

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought.

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why.

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds.

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close.

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap.

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now.

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name.

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious.

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day.

So there were four remedies to your situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel.

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl.

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk.

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees?

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day.

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?”

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good."

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes.

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond.

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core.

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware.

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery.

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond.

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.”

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–”

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table.

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?”

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.”

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort.

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel.

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night.

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths.

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him.

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney.

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay.

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks.

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it.

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it.

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you.

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?"

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh.

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles.

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might.

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending.

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire.

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether.

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils.

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him.

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t.

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you.

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty.

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly.

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet.

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact.

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically.

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck.

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head.

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip.

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft.

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could.

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory.

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss.

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago.

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you.

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you.

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still.

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him.

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg.

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone.

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey.

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging.

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it.

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you.

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.”

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine.

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up.

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry.

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands.

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust.

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care.

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below.

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says.

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table.

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.”

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you.

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him.

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth.

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin.

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster.

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth.

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.”

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter.

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release.

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck.

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him.

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride.

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says. He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.”

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked.

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners.

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him.

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup.

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #syrup #early 2000s #pedro pascal

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kleftiko · 1 year

Text

❦ DANCE, DANCE

cw: mature, fem!reader, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, creampie, inexperienced!loser!shigaraki, degradation, hair pulling

it’s missing loser shigaraki hours✌️😔

“i only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me”

shigaraki lay slumped on his back. the stupid artist gloves on his hands were bugging him. he wore them every night but for some reason he kept picking at the wrist, slivers of red, irritated skin sent jolts of pain every time he scratched at it. he felt like a failure—pathetic. today had been a complete disaster and he didn’t want to face all for one like this.

the door to his room creaked open, interrupting his self deprecation. his bored eyes followed the movement to meet your head poking through the entrance. hair pushed back to show your face to him; he nearly huffed.

“what do you want.”

your eyes held an emotion that made him absolutely furious. pity. you were there to witness his defeat upon returning to base all busted and bruised; you had watched him nearly throw a tantrum at his failure of a mission, sulking and hitting things like a petulant child. the reminder made him bite the inside of his cheek harshly.

“if you say any pitiful shit, i’ll kill you.” he warned, a slight growl to his tone, and you frowned. wordlessly, you opened the door the rest of the way, revealing your bare body in nothing but your panties.

“no sympathy?” you asked and watched his adam’s apple bob harshly. his eyes bore into your body, gaze so intense you could practically hear the pounding of his heart from across the room reverberating against your uncovered skin.

god, he was so pathetic.

and you fed off it, but he didn’t care. he liked to think he let you saunter into the room towards him, when in reality you had him paralyzed with lust.

in a moment you were mounted on top of his lap; his favourite position. his hands could greedily grab at the fleshy parts of your ass, his face could smush itself between your boobs, and your hot pussy would grind on his—painfully hard—clothed cock. all he could do in the moment was desperately and sloppily suck at your tits, biting occasionally so you’d hiss at him and pull his hair as punishment. it was at that time that he didn’t care about the artist gloves anymore, if they let him grab handfuls of your ass and use you to get himself off then he didn’t care.

“you’re such a pervert, aren’t you.” your nails carded through his hair, scratching against his dry scalp, and he whined involuntarily. “throwing a little tantrum when you get home just so i would pity fuck you, huh?”

he never let anyone talk to him like that. one disrespectful word and he would have their ashes crumbling between his fingers within a second, but with you? you spit harsh, pathetic, and degrading words to his face and all he could do was spill precum from his aching, throbbing cock. you were the only one who knew he was this pathetic, never having felt the touch of a woman before you. but still, he had to try and fight back for the sake of his crumbling pride.

“watch it.” he growled, voice lifting at the end as you pulled the band of his boxers down to free his dick. “you want me to turn you to dust?”

You looked directly into his eyes.

“do it.” you challenged, moving your underwear to the side and sheathing his stiff cock inside you.

his head hit the wall harshly behind him as you bounced, losing all the bravado he tried to front in favour of releasing deplorably pitiable sounds and grabbing at you desperately.

“as if anyone would give you their pussy anyway.” you bit, mouth curling up at how quickly he crumbled. “you wanna kill the only person in the world who would fuck you? be my guest and go back to your fist.”

he whined at your words, bucking his hips up and disrupting your rhythm. you harshly tugged his hair back, jolting his neck in a whiplash-like fashion—silently telling him to behave.

it’s a miracle he listened, but you could feel the restraint he put into not sloppily fucking you, his body practically shaking. you knew if you let him, he’d unskilfully thrust into you without rhythm. he didn’t know how to fuck, but with you in charge you could utilized his thick cock and get yourself off like a toy. his fingers dug into your hips painfully, eyes screwed shut in both pleasure and an attempt to hide his tears from you, and you knew he was close. his pathetic mumbling and incoherent whines only spurred you on as you whispered condescendingly, “you okay, boss?”

you slapped a hand brutally over his chapped lips, muffling the loud, wanton, moan he let out as he spilled inside you. His body shook with his orgasm, twitching like he’d never came before from someone else’s ministrations. bouncing slowly now, he let out a string of curses at the overstimulation as you came to a stop.

“fuck.” he breathed.

as you looked down at his pathetic stature, you couldn’t help but think he was adorable—completely fucked out every time you finished with him. soft pants escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered open, gazing up at you with a haze of ecstasy. you couldn’t help but lean down and capture his lips, tongue slipping into his mouth as his hands came up to cradle your face desperately.

he wanted to stay like that, cock softening inside you as you slowly made out, but you didn’t allow it. instead, you let go of him and slipped off his dick, a trail of his cum leaking out of you before you fixed your underwear. you always left him in a mess of his own cum, knowing he was too burnt out to do anything about it.

“see you tomorrow, boss.”

#mha imagines #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha smut #mha fanfiction #mha shigaraki #shigaraki smut #bnha shigaraki #bnha x reader #bnha smut #shigaraki thirst #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki x reader

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imaginecolby · 7 months

Text

part of your world || c.b.

summary: when you finally bring colby over to meet your family, they are more than impressed by him

you and colby were coming up on a year of being together, and you were finally in a place where you were able to introduce him to your family. you had a family gathering, and you both finally had some time off from your respective jobs and could spend a few days. you’d both already met each other’s parents, and he’d already introduced you to his family, so you felt is was time for him to meet yours.

you were at your airbnb getting ready for the day, colby’s clothes strewn all over the room as he was struggling to pick an outfit.

“why is everything i brought suddenly the ugliest thing i own?” he sighed, standing at the foot of the bed. you walked into the bedroom and your eyes widened at the sight.

“oh god.” you said softly, walking over to him. “what happened in here?” you asked, beginning to pick up his clothes.

“i cant decide what to wear.” he huffed, turning to you. his eyes locked with yours and he melted under your gaze. “help.” he pouted. you laughed, patting his cheek, and moved next to him, beginning to straighten out his clothes.

“okay, let’s see what we’re working with.” you said, studying his clothes. after a few minutes of silence, and moving pieces around, you finally had an outfit put together. “it’s cool, and we’re gonna be outside, so your black and white flannel with black jeans. with a plain tee underneath, so you can take the flannel off if you get too warm.” you said, grabbing his clothes from the bed.

“how did you do that? i’ve been staring at these clothes for almost a half hour and all it took you was a minute to put something together.”

“that’s because you’re too stressed about today. plus, you wear this specific outfit quite a lot, and i like you in it.” you said with a smile. colby took his clothes from you and began getting dressed. once he was finally ready, he took a deep breath before you grabbed your things to go.

“alright. let’s go.” colby said, adjusting his shirt and fixing his hair in the mirror.

“c’mere.” you said, taking his hand in yours and pulling him close to you. “are you okay?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.

“i’m a little nervous. but i’ll be alright.” he said, letting out a long sigh.

“you have nothing to be nervous about. you make a wonderful first impression, and my family is gonna love you. we don’t have to put too much pressure on today.” you said, stepping closer to him. he placed his hands on your hips and smiled down at you. he pressed his forehead against yours and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“i love you.” he said softly.

“i love you.” you repeated, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips. you gathered the rest of your things and headed out. the drive to your grandmother’s house was full of chatter, you mostly making an attempt to take colby’s mind off of the nerves he had about meeting your family. you knew they were gonna love him, and you hated seeing him get in his head, but you did all you could to comfort him.

once you arrived, your family welcomed colby into their loving arms, and made sure that he was comfortable. they included him in all the conversation, and took genuine interest in what he had to say. they were particularly interested in listening to him talk about his job. your family was the conventional working class, working their regular 9-5 jobs. they were like kids in a candy store listening to him tell stories of the places he’s been and the people he’s met.

as the night went on, and more stories were shared, the night began winding up. your grandparents had gone to sleep, and you and colby, along with your parents, your aunt, and a few cousins had moved outside, as to not be disruptive. you had formed a circle of lawn chairs near the pool and were sharing drinks and more stories. sharing moments like this with your family were your favorite moments, and you loved that you were getting to share them with colby.

“so, let me hear more about the two of you. how did you meet having to completely different lifestyles?” your aunt asked you and colby.

“we actually met at a bar.” you giggled. “he and sam had just moved to vegas, and they’d been exploring the area, and going to different bars around. a group of friends and i happened to be in the same place on the same night. i’d recognized him from youtube, and since drunk me has more courage than sober me, i went up to him and we started talking.”

“we spent pretty much the whole night talking. we exchanged numbers before the night ended, and i had already text her by the next afternoon. we went on a few a dates, and within a little over a month or so later, i was already calling myself y/n’s boyfriend.”

you hung out for a little while longer, conversation never coming to a halt. colby was doing more talking than you, but you loved sitting back and watching him enjoy himself. he’d just gone into a story about his most recent trip to japan, telling your family more about sam, as well as nate and alex.

you glanced around the circle, your family hanging on every word colby spoke. you noticed as their eyes lit up with excitement as they felt the laughter and happiness in every anecdote colby shared. you watched colby intently, excitedly telling his stories to these people that, only a few hours ago he’d just met. he spoke to them as if they’d been his friends his entire life.

as it got later and later, and more stories were shared, you all finally decided it was time to turn in. you quietly maneuvered through the house and out to the front where you cars were parked. your parents were staying the night, but they made sure to see everyone out. you shared a few more goodbyes in the driveway, colby comfortably falling into hugs all around. you waved goodbye as you and colby loaded into the car and made your way out of the neighborhood.

you drove in silence for a little while as colby made his way back to the freeway and got on the road back towards your airbnb. his hand made it’s way over to you, gripping your thigh. he gave you a small squeeze before you intertwined your fingers with his. he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before you spoke.

“so, how are you feeling?” you asked him.

“wonderful. a little embarrassed, but mostly wonderful.” he said with an awkward laugh.

“why are you embarrassed?” you asked, stifling a laugh since you already knew the reason.

“that i was so nervous to come today. we spent the whole day with your family and they welcomed me in as if i was one of their own. not once today did i ever feel like an outsider, or that i didn’t belong.” he said.

“i told you that you didn’t need to worry. but i'm glad you had a good time tonight. i could tell that my family was taking a genuine interest in things you had to say. and i loved watching you talk so excitedly about everything. i don’t think i’ve ever seen you talk like that before.” you said.

“it felt so refreshing to get to share these memories with new people. of course we can recount them with the same friends who were also part of them. but there’s something about sharing with other people that gives the memories so much more life.” he said. you were stopped at a red light, and colby looked over at you, giving you a smile.

“i love you so much. i'm so glad you had a good time today.” you said, stroking his cheek.

“i love you so much.” he repeated. you finally arrived back to your airbnb and began to get ready for bed.

you slept soundly that night, knowing that all the people who mattered most to you got along as well as they did. you couldn’t wait for more gatherings like this.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagines #colby brock x reader

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starrierknight · 7 months

Text

𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

You both like the thrill of the chase, but he likes being caught more. You were fully willing to take advantage of this fact (and him).

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 5.3k

pairing— mean!dom!gn!reader x bunny hybrid!sub!choso

cws/tags— dubcon, hybrid sex, predator/prey dynamic in an incredibly literal sense, flatmates to fuckers, biting, ear/tail pulling (I promise it makes sense), thigh riding, petnames (“bunny” & “pet”), degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, choso is a closet pervert, implied masturbation at the start, this is a bit of a crackfic

Knock-knock-knock.

"Hey, are you free right now?" the unfamiliar, deep voice of your flatmate said, the sound muffled by the door.

You startled, quickly snapping your laptop shut, and straightening out your clothes and tugging up your shorts. The abrupt sound of the door and his voice had disrupted the peaceful cocoon of your solitude. The scent of your room, previously filled with the aroma of a fragrant candle, now carried a faint whiff of embarrassment as you hurriedly composed yourself. You cleared your throat, the dry rasp echoing in the room, and the sudden shift from the soft hum of your laptop to silence was palpable.

"Gimme a sec!"

You sighed in frustration after having been in the middle of your, ah, private activities, acutely aware of the residual warmth on your skin and the lingering taste of a guilty indulgence on your lips. God, why now?

You walked over to your bedroom door, partially opening it.

You were greeted by the sight of Choso, your reserved flatmate. In all the time you had shared this apartment with him since you moved in, you had spoken to him maybe half a dozen times, at a push. Your knowledge of him extended to a slightly obscure and dark recollection of his appearance—you were pretty certain he had black hair and black eyes, for example. The scant details of his existence in your mind were like faint echoes, and you couldn't recall the last time you'd even heard his voice.

The atmosphere around him was enigmatic, much like the dimly lit corners of your apartment at night when he was most active. Your sense of familiarity with him was akin to touching something in the dark and trying to discern its shape by feel alone. You hadn't even exchanged more than a few words with him since moving in.

So, it begged the question: Why now, of all Godforsaken times, had he knocked on your door? The uncertainty hung in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder what had prompted this rare interruption of your solitude. Nerves prickled your skin, and the soft buzz of anxiety hummed in your ears as you tried to read the situation.

His tall, broad, dark figure loomed over you in the hallway, his face hidden by the darkness. He had a lumpy-looking hoodie on, the hood drawn up over his head, and the strings pulled tight, making his silhouette rather unfortunately egg-shaped. In the dim light, the fabric absorbed the surrounding environment, giving him a spectral quality.

"I need to talk to you about something," Choso said flatly, his voice devoid of any discernible emotion.

"Something?" you repeated, the slight crease forming between your brows mirrored by a taste of irritation on your tongue.

The hallway closed in on you, and the tension thick between you, heightening your awareness of the details—his hooded silhouette and the soft hum of the apartment building's ventilation system added an eerie backdrop to the encounter.

Choso stared at you and said nothing. His inscrutable expression was like a dark void, offering no clues as to the nature of his issue. You huffed.

Reluctantly, you opened your bedroom door wider, inviting him to step inside and speak whatever his piece was. The hinges creaked softly, and a cool draft wafted in from the hallway, carrying the faint scent of the outside world into your personal space. As he entered, the rustle of his lumpy hoodie echoed slightly in the confined space.

You shut the door behind you with a soft click and walked over to your bed, plopping unceremoniously onto it. Despite your bedroom being considerably better lit by the soft candlelight scattered around your room, you still had a hard time making out Choso’s features clearly. Shadows danced across his lumpy hoodie, making his face remain hidden, and the flickering flames played tricks on your senses.

"Well?" you prompted impatiently, the sound of your voice breaking the silence and mingling with the gentle crackling of the candles.

He sighed, the faint gust of his breath causing the candles to flicker slightly. "Promise you won't laugh?"

You raised a brow, giving him a thoroughly unimpressed look. "No," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of stubbornness.

Choso nodded, as if a little sympathetic to your situation. He slipped his lumpy hoodie off, the soft sound of fabric sliding over skin filling the room. As he revealed more of himself, the candlelight danced across his now clearer form, allowing you to finally see his features more distinctly.

As you leaned in to see him more clearly, you couldn't help but be taken aback by the stark contrast between your preconceived notions and the reality before you. He was tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered, with a physique that seemed at odds with his reserved demeanour. His incredibly pale skin, like porcelain, was warmed by the hue of the candlelight, giving it an ethereal quality. Every contour and muscle came alive in the shifting light.

His black eyes were deep pools, absorbing the candlelight and reflecting it back with a certain intensity. His long, messy black hair, tied into two high ponytails that jutted upward and outwards, framed his face in a wild, untamed manner. Some strands of hair gently caressed his forehead, adding to his haunting allure.

Upon closer inspection, as you leaned in even further, you noticed his face was sharp and angular, with thin but expressive eyebrows that added depth to his gaze. His straight nose was perfectly sculpted, leading your eyes down to his distinctive feature—the thin, black, horizontal, rectangular tattoo that adorned his nose bridge.

The tattoo was his most striking feature, but if you weren't counting that, then there were the unexpected elements that truly set him apart—a pair of bunny ears perched atop his head, their velvety texture contrasting with his dark, flowing hair. Completing this ensemble was a fluffy white tail, its cottony appearance inviting a touch to verify its authenticity.

Wait, hold on a second… Bunny ears and a fluffy white tail?

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh, the suppressed amusement creating a tickling sensation on your skin.

"Y'know Halloween is coming up, not Easter, right?" you quipped, your voice carrying a teasing note.

Choso groaned, hiding his face in his hands, his reaction palpable even in the dim candlelit room. Though it was hard to see, you had a good reason to believe that he was blushing, a subtle warmth colouring his porcelain complexion. This revelation only made you want to laugh harder, the sensation building like a wave within you.

"So you ordered the wrong Halloween costume. What's the big deal?" you chuckled, attempting to downplay the situation.

Choso's bunny ears twitched, a subtle movement that defied logic.

They... they twitched?

"It's not a costume," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the tumultuous thoughts racing through your mind.

Your jaw dropped, and you spluttered in disbelief. "N-not a costume? Those... Those are your actual ears?"

He grimaced and nodded, still avoiding your gaze. Those were his real ears? Is this why he had hardly interacted with you, because he was hiding his 'bunny features'? The discovery left you reeling, a cacophony of thoughts and emotions filling your mind as you tried to make sense of the extraordinary truth before you.

In good bunny fashion, he slowly tiptoed over to your bed and sat on the opposite side, his ears drooping. The way he moved was oddly endearing, a blend of hesitancy and vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he mumbled, his voice carrying a note of regret.

The pair of soft, black bunny rabbit ears were a delightful and charming sight, a surreal addition to this unexpected encounter. They looked velvety to the touch, with a plush texture that invited you to run your fingers across their surface. The deep black colour was rich and dark, blending in with Choso's hair, but creating a stark contrast against his pale skin. The enigmatic tattoo on his nose bridge gained new significance in light of this revelation, like a piece of a larger puzzle waiting to be deciphered. As you observed him, a profound curiosity washed over you, eager to learn more about the intriguing world that had remained hidden beneath his hoodie and in the shadows for so long.

You impulsively reached your dominant hand over and stroked one of his ears, unable to resist the allure of their intriguing texture. It was incredibly soft and plush to the touch, and running your fingers over them felt like stroking a delicate, silken fabric. They were adorned with fine, velvety fur that lent them a luxurious feel—so exquisitely soft to the touch.

"Wow... You're not kidding," you said with quiet awe, your voice hushed, afraid to disturb the delicacy of this revelation.

He stiffened and recoiled, looking at you with wide eyes, a mix of surprise and unease clouding his expression. He shifted away from you, instinctively retreating from your touch. You raised your eyebrows, curious about his reaction, and leaned forward, extending your hand gently to stroke his ears again.

"Hey, c'mere for a sec. Let me touch," you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring as you reached for him.

Choso, however, kept shifting away from you, his movements increasingly frantic, until he was almost completely dangling off your bed. The experience of revealing his hidden secret had left him clearly unsettled, and your attempts to comfort him had the opposite effect, pushing him farther away.

Your curiosity about his strangely endearing rabbit anatomy grew the more he recoiled from you. His eyes darted between you and the door, and the bedsheets rustled beneath you as you inched closer, your desire to explore this newfound aspect of his identity becoming increasingly difficult to contain. Then, unable to resist your impulse, you lunged forward.

Choso, however, was immediately ready to bolt away as you started moving towards him. His instincts kicked in, and he began to run, his legs and thighs moving quickly as he made rapid bunny hops, dashing away from your reach. His bunny ears flapped in the air as he ran, the delicate contrast of black against the dimly lit room a mesmerizing sight. His white tail wagged rapidly in this game of chase, and his athletic and swift movements made it clear that he was determined to elude your grasp.

Choso got to your bedroom door, threw it open, and dashed out into the hallway, his swift movements making it seem like he had vanished into thin air. But you, not one to give up easily, sprinted after him, your determination propelling you forward.

Choso, with his innate agility and a clear knowledge of the apartment's layout, made several quick turns and corners, using his familiarity with the space to his advantage and evading your pursuit. His bunny ears continued to flap in the air, and he occasionally glanced behind him to gauge your progress before making another sharp turn, running into yet another room and attempting to hide.

As you followed closely behind, your footsteps reverberated through the apartment, giving away your pursuit. Choso's white tail wagged rapidly in response to the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he made more bunny hops, utilizing his speed and agility to the fullest in his quest to evade your grasp. The game of cat and mouse—or rather, cat and rabbit—had taken an unexpected turn, and the chase continued through your shared living space.

You skidded around a corner, your fluffy socks proving slippery on the hardwood floors as you made a valiant effort to keep up with Choso's rapid pace.

Choso, ever the elusive bunny-eared flatmate, saw you coming around the corner and anticipated your move. With a burst of agility, he made another sharp turn, dashing out of the room and out of your immediate sight. His bunny ears flapped in the air as he continued to sprint away, his athletic legs propelling him forward with impressive speed.

As he reached the kitchen, he couldn't help but call out, "I can hear your footsteps!"

His bunny ears twitched, as if to listen further, and his white tail wagged rapidly. He continued to make bunny hops, each one like a real rabbit's bound, as the game of pursuit and evasion intensified.

You changed tactics and stopped running, realising that a more stealthy approach might be the key to closing the gap between you and Choso. Instead of chasing him, you began to stalk quietly around the apartment, moving with deliberate caution to ensure that your footsteps remained silent and didn't give you away.

Choso, ever alert, immediately picked up on the change in your movements. His bunny ears stood straight, their sensitivity tuned to the faintest of sounds, and his fluffy white tail had stopped wagging. Tension radiated from him as he shifted into a state of heightened awareness, his eyes flicking around the apartment in an effort to spot any sign of your presence.

He began to worry a little, his black eyes flicking around as he tried to catch a glimpse of your whereabouts in the apartment. Remaining completely still, he strained to hear any faint sound that might give away your position. His ears were perked, each subtle noise amplified in his perception.

Choso's ears twitched at the faint noise emanating from the hallway. His senses heightened, and he remained perfectly still, straining to decipher the source and nature of the sound. His black eyes narrowed as he focused his attention on the hallway, ready to react to any potential movement or disturbance.

As the moments stretched on in silence, Choso remained completely still, vigilant and on the lookout for your next move. His bunny ears stood erect, capturing even the faintest of sounds, and his body remained tense, ready to react at a moment's notice. His white tail remained motionless, a clear sign that he was in full-on alert mode, on edge and anticipating your next attempt.

In the hushed atmosphere, you could hear his breath, slightly faster than usual, as he held it in anticipation. Each inhalation and exhalation was more pronounced in the quiet.

"Boo!" you exclaimed from a few meters behind him, and you lunged forward.

Choso flinched in surprise at the sudden exclamation from behind him, his rabbit instincts momentarily taking over. He swiftly turned to face you, only to be caught off-guard the moment you lunged towards him. His bunny tail wagged in response to his flustered state, and he made a light bunny hop to escape your reach, his athletic legs propelling him forward in a rush.

Clearly, you had caught him by surprise, and he was running away as fast as he could, employing his signature bunny hops to gain distance. His slightly red face betrayed his flustered state, and nervous giggles bubbled up from him as he continued to flee.

You chased Choso into the living room, and with nowhere left to escape, he found himself cornered. In a final act of pursuit, you lunged forward and tackled him onto the sofa, your laughter mixing with his surprised gasp as you both tumbled onto the cushions. You managed to pin his wrists above his head, straddling him in a victorious pose.

As you caught your breath, you both panted heavily, the adrenaline-fueled chase having taken its toll on your energy. Choso's body flushed a deep, red hue all over, and his features displayed a mix of shock and deep embarrassment. Your body on top of him in such an intimate position left him blushing intensely, his pale skin providing a vivid canvas for the crimson flush that had overtaken him.

In this somewhat awkward and unexpected moment, you were both left panting and gazing at each other. Choso's bunny ears laid back slightly, and his large, expressive eyes met yours with a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and… and what on Earth was that?

"I win," you muttered smugly, your playful victory evident in your tone.

As you both caught your breath and your eyes met, you found yourselves in an unexpectedly intimate moment, just inches away from each other. Your gazes locked, and you peered deeply into each other's eyes, your chests rising and falling with each heavy breath. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to break through the bones of his ribs and run away.

"Well, I suppose you win..." Choso conceded, his rabbit ears drooping ever so slightly, a subtle sign of his disappointment. “Let me go now?”

"Don't I get a prize?" you murmured, smirking ever so slightly as you inched closer, your proximity intensifying the charged atmosphere.

Your playful question hung in the air, charged with a newfound tension that neither of you could deny. You licked your lips, a subtle, teasing gesture as you maintained unbroken eye contact with Choso, your gaze locked onto his dark eyes.

Choso's eyes slowly traveled down to your lips, his gaze fixating on the subtle curve of your mouth. He was entranced, his rabbit ears twitching almost involuntarily as his breathing picked up ever so slightly. His dark eyes remained locked onto your mouth, where he noticed the subtlest details, including the hint of your smirk and the shape of your canines.

As he continued to study your lips, Choso's eyes widened slightly, and he found himself unable to move, mesmerized by your presence. A faint, involuntary moan escaped his mouth, the sound barely audible even in the hushed room.

“Don’t… Don’t do this,” he whimpered.

Instead of going in for a kiss, you tilted your head to the side and bit gently into Choso's neck. Your unexpected move elicited a sharp gasp from him, his dark eyes widening in response to the unexpected sensation. Your hands, still firmly gripping his pinned wrists, curled more tightly, keeping him in place as you continued to nibble at his neck. The room crackled, and the taste of his skin and the sound of his rapid heartbeat filled your senses—God, he looked so helpless.

Choso's body shivered involuntarily under your grip as you bit his neck, his sensitivity to the unexpected sensation causing a surge of pleasure and excitement to course through him. Despite how tightly you were pinning him down, he squirmed beneath you. His hips lifted slightly off the sofa, a reflexive response to the thrilling stimulation you were providing. A low, muffled groan escaped his lips—something that sounded close to your name.

Your sharp canines bit deeper into Choso's neck, and he responded with a low, deeper moan that reverberated through the room. His hips grinded slightly against you, an instinctual reaction. His breath grew heavier and faster, each inhalation and exhalation punctuated by soft, low sounds of pleasure.

“No, no, no… Don’t, please… Ah, fuck…!”

Choso's bunny ears continued to twitch, a visible sign of the tension that had taken hold of him. Despite your firm control and grip, he began to move slightly, a silent plea for closeness and touch. His movements became more pronounced under your control and grip, an unspoken desire to get closer to you and touch you. His skin felt hot to the touch, the evidence of his arousal undeniable in the heated atmosphere of the room, at war with his mind which was begging for it to stop.

“It hurts… You’re hurting me, stop… No, no,” he whined.

Choso's response to your biting was undeniable. He let out a deep breath of pleasure, his body shivering in excitement as your canines continued to tantalize his neck. His lips formed a perfect "O" shape as he released the breath, and his bunny ears twitched slightly, betraying the undeniable excitement and pleasure coursing through him.

It was clear that he wasn't trying to resist your bite; On the contrary, he thoroughly enjoyed the sensation, despite his whines about it hurting. The pleasure experience far outweighed any discomfort, and his surrender to the moment was evident in his quivering body and the sounds of delight escaping his lips.

You pulled back from his neck, your breaths heavy and your voice dripping with desire as you whispered in Choso's ear, "You taste good. I think I'll have you."

His response was immediate, a loud whine escaping his trembling lips as he squirmed beneath you. His body was a tempest of emotions, a cocktail of fear, adrenaline, and unmistakable arousal.

While maintaining your grip on his pinned wrists with one hand, your other hand ventured to gently stroke the soft, black, velvet-like fur of his droopy bunny ears. The sensation caused him to shiver, a powerful response to the intimate touch.

"D-Don't... P-Please, don't," he mumbled pleadingly, his voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and desire.

But you weren't inclined to stop. With a wicked grin, you silenced his protests with a simple command, "Hush, bunny... Let me have my fun with you."

You didn't hold back as you ducked your head down and bit more harshly into the pale, sensitive skin of Choso's neck. He let out the cutest squeak of fear in response. You sucked and nibbled at his neck, your actions causing him to tremble and moan.

His moans, while not entirely lustful, were filled with a heady mixture of fear, excitement, and desire. Each tremor of his body and each moan that escaped his lips only fueled your passion and drove you to explore further. In another circumstance, you might have had the heart to stop, but the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressed against your thigh as he rutted his hips into you left little room for restraint.

“C’mon, now. Be a good pet and let me touch you properly,” you muttered into his ear, causing the last of his apprehension to crumble.

Your desire burned like a fire, and with fiendish strength, you tore Choso's thin cotton t-shirt, a symbol of your unrestrained desire for him. He gasped at the sudden action, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

As your hands traversed the now-bare skin of his muscular torso, Choso shuddered and groaned, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He leaned into your caresses, his desire mirroring your own.

Sensing his readiness and compliance, you shifted on the sofa to provide him with enough room to remove his trousers. Without protest, Choso stripped out of his trousers, revealing more of his taut, athletic body. With greedy hands, you pulled down his underwear, releasing his aching erection, which sprung free, throbbing with arousal.

"Well, aren't you a needy thing?" you laughed teasingly at Choso, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and desire.

You pulled him onto your lap, and he now straddled you, his embarrassment causing a deep shade of red to spread from the top of his head all the way down to his shoulders. His bunny ears laid flat against his head with shame, unable to meet your eyes.

Your hands settled on his petit waist, and you dragged him along your thigh, pulling him closer. He couldn't help but moan as his throbbing dick rubbed against your skin. His arms wrapped around your neck, an instinctive desire to hold you as close to his body as you would allow. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips as he looked at you imploringly, his need and desire laid bare for you to see.

"God, you're so fucking desperate to be touched," you laughed, your words dripping with desire, and you placed a possessive hand on the back of Choso's neck before crashing your lips together in a heated kiss.

Choso whimpered in surprise at the sudden aggression of your kiss, his cheeks flushing with desire and embarrassment. He couldn't help but emit light, quiet moans in response, the sensations overwhelming his senses. His bunny ears were twitching madly, and his entire body quivered at your rough touch.

His eyes remained closed as he surrendered to the passionate kiss, his lips moving in sync with yours as desire consumed both of you. As the kiss continued, the room filled with the intoxicating sounds of his heavy panting and the increasingly louder moans that escaped his lips.

Choso's face flushed even deeper as your fingers squeezed his bunny tail, the unexpected sensation sending a jolt of desire through him. Instinctively, he ground his hips against your thigh, seeking more of the electrifying pleasure you were providing.

His calloused hands roamed over your body, their touch possessive as they grabbed your shoulders and pulled you in closer and tighter. The intensity of his desire was palpable, his body tense and shaking as he felt the warmth from your hand on his tail. He couldn't help but make quiet, breathy whimpers and sounds as your deep kiss continued, your tongues exploring each other with fervour.

Choso continued to grind his throbbing cock against your thigh, the friction heightening his pleasure. Your hands fondled his ass and massaged the base of his tail, each touch driving him further into a frenzy of desire.

You pulled away from Choso's lips, and in a breathy, taunting whisper, you spoke to him, "You should see yourself, pet. Fucking my thigh like you're in heat."

Choso's response was a mixture of pleasure and desperation as he panted between moans, his voice a trembling with need. "Ah...! I-I can't help it... Feels too good."

Your hands continued to guide his hips steadily as he humped your thighs, his movements growing increasingly frantic. Pre-cum smeared messily across your skin where your shorts ended, evidence of his overwhelming arousal. His pretty cock was flushed an angry red at the tip, the desperate need for relief evident in every twitch and throb.

Choso's moans grew louder and more desperate with each passing moment, his voice a fervent symphony of pleasure as he whimpered your name. His thrusts against your thigh became increasingly frantic and messy, his body shuddering with the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. His fingers dug painfully into your shoulder blades, his grip on you tight and unrelenting, holding on for dear life.

Your taunting words only added fuel to the fire. "That's right, bunny. Moan my fuckin' name and let the whole building know I'm getting you off like a slut. Let them hear your voice—let them hear how disgusting you really are," you teased, your words charged with desire and dominance.

"Please, please... Oh, please! Fuck, I'm so... I'm so c-close," Choso cried out, his voice filled with desperate need and urgency.

Your wicked grin only widened in response to his pleas, and with a harsh tug, you pulled on the fluffy white tail at the base of his spine. The sensation was electrifying, and Choso practically screamed your name as he came on your thigh, his body trembling with the intensity of his release. He continued to rut against you, coating your skin in his hot, sticky cum, the sheer amount of it a testament to the depth of his need and desire.

As you watched him in the aftermath, you couldn't help but realize that your mysterious flatmate had been far more desperate for you than he had ever let on throughout your history of knowing him. And then it clicked:

He had wanted you all along.

Choso naturally began to slow his movements, his body slumping against yours as he buried his face into your neck. He whimpered your neck and pressed soft, damp kisses against your neck. Your grip on his hips didn’t falter, though.

"You're a pervert, aren't you, bunny?" you said teasingly as you pulled back to look at Choso's flushed face.

Choso's breath hitched, and his lips parted as if he were going to protest or defend himself, but before he could utter a word, you forcefully moved his hips, causing him to grind against your thigh once more. He yelped in response to the sudden stimulation, his cute dick still sensitive from his recent climax, and it continued to throb and drip with cum, staining your thigh. You maintained your control over him, keeping him forcefully grinding against you, and despite his whines and keening, he remained a willing slave to your lustful amusement.

"Oh, my God," you laughed cruelly, your words dripping with taunting amusement. "This has been what's getting you off ever since I moved in, huh? You've been touching yourself, wishing it was me fucking you all along?"

Choso's protest was weak, his voice trembling as he moaned and squirmed under the relentless overstimulation you forced upon his weeping cock. "N-No... Stop, I wouldn't," he protested, his words a feeble attempt to deny the undeniable truth.

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily.

"Bunny," you continued, your voice low and sultry, "you've been wanting to fuck like rabbits this whole time, and you've been too embarrassed to ask. Now's your chance. Beg me now, like the dumb slut you are, and I'll be here to fuck you when you're desperate."

"Please… Please, please, please!" Choso cried out, his voice desperate and filled with longing as he moaned your name.

Your dominance over him intensified as you continued to drive him to the edge of ecstasy. "And what are you, pet?" you demanded.

"I'm… Please, please… S'too much… Too much," he gasped, his words coming out in short gasps as his powerful body writhed and shuddered. His hips continued to hump against your thigh, guided by your hands.

"You're a dumb fucking bunny, that's what you are. Now, say it," you commanded.

"I'm… I'm a… Ah…!" Choso's voice trailed off into a moan of pleasure and surrender, his body consumed by the intoxicating sensations you were inflicting upon him.

You narrowed your eyes, your superiority over Choso unwavering as your dominant hand reached up and clasped those soft bunny ears of his, tugging harshly. Choso's response was immediate and intense—he screamed and sobbed, the pain shooting down his neck and spine, sending waves of torment and pleasure right to his aching dick. Tears cascaded down his flushed cheeks as he moaned and whimpered, his pleas for gentleness and kindness filling the room.

"Say it, slut," you demanded, your voice firm and unyielding.

"I'm a… a dumb fucking b-bunny," Choso sobbed, his words a painful admission of submission.

You tugged on his ears once more, and his back arched in response, the sweaty muscles of his chest pressing firmly against your torso.

"That's right, pet. You're a dumb fucking bunny, and now, you're all mine," you laughed, your words filled with triumph.

Choso's response was immediate and explosive. He screamed your name and convulsed violently, his body wracked by the intensity of his climax as he came all over your thigh once again. The overstimulation proved to be too much for him, flooding his body with an overwhelming, painful pleasure that left him utterly and blissfully mindless. In that moment, all thoughts, inhibitions, and restraints were wiped away, consumed by the raw and uncontrollable desire that had drawn you together.

It was clear that he had become your loyal and devoted pet, forever bound to you. The future held untold possibilities, but one thing was certain—Choso had willingly surrendered to you, and you had claimed him as your own.

a/n: icl i got wayyyy too carried away with this. choso is such a gorgeous man and i need to ruin him LOL. god, i fuckin love bunnies. writing this has permanently altered my brain chemistry, i think. Happy Kinktober! :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees #꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume #꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23 #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #sub choso kamo x reader #sub choso kamo #tw dubcon

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flowercrowngods · 11 months

Text

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 06: true & misunderstandings

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a while, filling their bubble with a silence so long that Steve’s entire being re-centres itself around Eddie’s hand in his, focusing on the warmth, on each minute twitch, and on the way his thumb aches to move and stroke the back of Eddie’s hand.

A silence that is disrupted in the gentlest of ways when Eddie, trembling just as much as Steve, says, “I love you.”

Steve blinks, not entirely sure for a second or two if he heard that right, or if that was just another thought his own, pressing and urgent and so, so real.

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie says again, and Steve is sure that he didn’t imagine it this time — but that doesn’t make it make sense. It doesn’t feel real. Eddie sounds so sad about it, too, like he is confessing to Steve a crime that has been weighing him down forever, something that he can’t be redeemed from.

It makes the dam break, the image of loving him as an irredeemable act, an unforgivable crime, a sin irremissible. Years and years of learning how to be in love with Eddie and not being too much, learning not let that consume him — years and years of trying and failing — all come crashing now as he hears that sad little voice.

Steve as the one who’s in the way of Eddie having a good life, a great life, a happy little bubble for himself in a world that used to be so cruel to him. Steve as the one who makes Eddie so incredibly, unbearably dejected.

It eats away at him, tears away at his soul so much that he barely even registers the words that belong to the sad, sad voice.

I’m sorry, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat; and Eddie asked him to listen.

“It’s always been you, Steve. To me, it’s… You’re it. Always have been. But I had to move on, you know? After years, I just… God.”

Eddie’s collecting himself, gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words that are slowly trickling through the fog in Steve’s mind and settle just behind his stinging eyes.

“Remember when I told you I used to have a crush on you? Years ago. And how that was all in the past, and that I had moved on? Well,” he huffs, nerves wracking through him as he squeezes Steve’s hand repeatedly. “Turns out, not so much. Don’t think it ever will be. But I thought, you know, I thought I was past the stage where it consumed me. Because you were still in my life, still right there, still happy, happier than I think I could make you, and… You were there. Still. After all those years, you were the one thing I hadn’t ruined. and I couldn’t tell you. I had Chrissy, I was— I was getting over you. I could breathe again, I could love again. But not… Not with everything I have, because that’s still with you. Only with you.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, his hand shaking now, and Steve wants to let go, wants to turn around and wrap himself around Eddie, hold him, his face pressed to the back of Eddie’s neck as he listens, feeling those vibrations in his cheeks as he talks.

He doesn’t. He stays right where he is, but the urge is becoming stronger and stronger.

Eddie loves him. And he sounds like he is about to cry because of it. Steve still wants to apologise.

A sniffle. “Chrissy knows. She said she’s the same, that she has a person like that, too. I never expected to love her as much as I do, but it’s a… It’s a different kind of love. And if I got to spend the rest of my days with her, life would be good, you know? Like you said about Robin. She said the same, said we’re doing the right thing. But—”

Eddie stops here, his voice growing hoarse and his breath hitching a little as if he’s holding back tears. Steve wipes away his own.

“But I don’t want a world where losing you is the right thing, Stevie.”

They both let out a sob at that, the weight of Eddie’s words settling inside Steve as he becomes aware of what Eddie is saying. Of what he is doing.

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

“I’ve done everything,” Eddie continues, purely and utterly heartbroken. “Everything, to get over you. And it seems that I did it so well, because now I’m losing you. And it seems like I got it all wrong, too, because— Because I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t ever wanna lose you. But you have to know. I need you to know that I’m so in love with you I can barely even breathe. Or, or think. When you’re there, but especially when you’re gone. Loving you is part of who I am. It’s like, it’s like a rule in the universe, you know. A law of nature. Simple biology, like you’re the sunshine and I’m a measly dandelion, and there’s so much more of me because of you. And when you’re gone, then so am I.”

Eddie’s crying now, and Steve pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face in them to hide he way he’s falling apart. Because this is not happening.

“And if you wanna leave, if I’ve done something you can’t live with, that’s— I won’t stop you. But please, I would just… I’d like to understand, Stevie. Because I love you. So much and for so long that I know I will never stop. It's just what I do in this life. And if I’m gonna have to stop, I need to know why.” A beat. “Please?”

There are no words coursing through Steve’s head as he tries and tries and tries to say something, anything. There is no, I love you. There is no, Because I can’t bear the thought of watching you live a life with someone else when all I ever do is imagine my life with you.

There is no, Tell me why you love me. No, Tell me you love me. Say it again.

All there is, all that comes out, is, “I’m sorry.”

And behind him, Eddie’s shoulders fall. He slumps, just a little, but Steve can feel it in his tension-riddled body.

Steve wants to scream. Wants to be brave like Eddie and bear his heart, because he loves him too! He loves him and maybe they can get it right, maybe their loves can match, maybe they can fix this.

But all the words get stuck in his throat, because they have seven years of practice.

“You don’t get to do this,” Eddie says quietly, just barely louder than a whisper, and Steve tears at himself from the inside out. “You don’t get to just… Say that. I’m sorry. Leaving me like that, after all of this. After everything? You’re sorry? No, fuck you, Stevie.”

Eddie’s hand is still in his, his hold unwavering, as if he’s holding Steve in place. And he is. Eddie is an anchor, he’s the north star, he’s— fuck!

“You’re everything,” Steve rasps after all, the dams broken and breaking, seven and more years of keeping the words to himself come flooding now.

He turns around this time, freeing his hand from Eddie’s, who tries to hold him tighter for one second, two, three, before Steve’s head lands between his shoulder-blades and he finally allows Steve’s arms to come up around him.

“You’re everything, Eddie, and when you told me you used to have a crush on me, I wanted to tell you that I’m right there with you. I wanted to tell you that, finally, finally I was right there with you.”

He says the words into the space between his heart and Eddie’s, feeling tremors underneath his hands. Breath is scarce as the air in his lungs is filled with Eddie once more, that familiar scent of him, everything about him; everything.

“But then you weren’t there anymore, said it was all in the past, and I had missed my chance. But I didn’t care. Because, Eddie Munson, you’re impossible to un-love. It never stopped. Never, never stopped. And it was fine, it was fine. But then you got engaged. And I can’t watch you anymore, Ed. I can’t watch you be the happiest you’ve ever been and have it not be my fault. I can’t watch you live that life you’ve always hated, the life that I always imagined having with you. The life I thought you’d grow to love because of me. I love you, Eddie. But I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Underneath him, Eddie is still as Steve silently cries into the back of his t-shirt, clinging to him now, holding him. For one last time, maybe.

Silence falls as they both just breathe air that’s filled with confessions and apologies.

And then, eventually, after an eternity or two, Eddie says, “I’m not marrying Chrissy.”

Steve’s heart stops, just for one second. He blinks. Swallows. Doesn’t dare to hope. “You’re not?”

Eddie shakes his head, reaching for one of Steve’s hand where it’s splayed across his middle. “No. She, uhm. She said we shouldn’t. Said I should get my boy instead.”

“Wh— Why?”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. “Because it’s you. And I… Tell me I’m not late again. Tell me I didn’t fuck it up again, tell me there’s a chance.”

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

Steve lets out a breath, breathing out Eddie, unreasonably scared that if he lets go of the air in his lungs, Eddie will disappear again. Leave again. Get over him again, for real this time.

“Is it true?” he asks instead of answering.

“Is what true?”

“What you said. That you love me. And that Chrissy knows. And that it’s fine. That it can be okay. That it… That we… I’m scared, Eddie.”

“What are you scared of, Stevie?” A whisper, a question so gentle that Steve lets out a pathetic whimper as he tries not to cry again.

“Me,” he says. “Fucking it up. Not making you happy. Not getting it right. Freezing like I always do, because it’s muscle memory. I’m— I don’t wanna make you sad, Eddie.” And you sound so sad. You already do.

Eddie breathes deeply and moves his hand, lacing his fingers with Steve’s as he leans back slightly, further into Steve’s embrace.

“It’s true,” he whispers. “All of that and more. And I’m scared, too. Because that’s not how I planned it, you know? Three in the morning with more tears than anything else, sounding and feeling like the world’s gonna end. You deserve a better love than that, Stevie, but… It’s sorta all I have, you know? If you’ll let me. If you want to. We can be scared together and figure out how to not be that anymore.” Eddie lifts their linked hands to his lips and brushes a kiss over Steve’s knuckles. “It’s all true.”

Steve lets out the breath he was holding, sinking further into Eddie, holding him tighter. Daring to brush a kiss to the back of his neck — a featherlight one that is barely more than a touch of lips to overheated skin. It makes Eddie’s breath hitch, so he does it again.

“Can you stay?”

“Hm?”

“The night. Here, I mean. Can you stay here tonight? I wanna… Just wanna hold you for a bit. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Stevie. That’s okay. Do you wanna go to bed?”

He nods, still tightening his arms around Eddie, scared that he’ll leave. Scared to wake up if he moves. Scared to— Just scared.

“Hey, I’ve got you, c’m’ere” Eddie whispers, somehow winding himself out of Steve’s hold and pulling him up to stand.

And there, standing face to face with Eddie, everything is slowly starting to become real. The confessions. The broken dams, years and years of pent up tension, of hidden emotion and a yearning so deep it’s left scars, little ridges in his rib cage from where his heart has broken and healed and soared and burned and fluttered over and over and over again.

It has all come to this. Here. Eddie’s hands in his, his thumb stroking gentle patterns on Steve’s skin.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie whispers again, not moving. Only winding his arms around Steve’s shoulders when he leans in, tucking his head under Eddie’s chin, holding him tightly.

“I love you.”

Eddie smiles against the crown of his head, Steve can feel it with everything he is. “Yeah?”

He nods, mirroring the smile he cannot see. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah? We can talk more in the morning?”

It’s a question that makes Eddie sound so small, so insecure — like he half expects Steve to take it back, to run away again and leave him. It breaks his heart, what he put Eddie through. What he put himself through. What they have put themselves and each other through, inevitable as it was.

“Yeah,” he promises, taking Eddie’s hand again and leading him to the bedroom, blanket thrown over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I think you’ll have to explain again.”

“I will. As often as you need.”

I know, Steve thinks. I know you will. I love you.

It still feels like a dream, falling asleep with Eddie in his arms. It still feels like it will burst the moment he makes a wrong move, the second he blinks too hard or breathes too long.

He’s still trembling a little, still reeling, still confused and tentative in his hope. But at least this time Eddie is with him, stroking his cheek like he, too, can’t believe that this is all real. Like he, too, is scared.

But maybe they can be scared together. Maybe they can make it work. Maybe their love can match.

For the first time in weeks, months, years, or even forever, Steve falls asleep with a smile on his face, his forehead pressed to Eddie’s.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar

come back tomorrow for a happy ending | read part 7 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steddieweek2023 #steddie week fic #dio words #hi these are sleep deprived hungover 6am words lmao i hope they’re fine i’m posting this from a steam train 🚂

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