#I'll ramble when the brain is quiet ^^ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pintobug · 24 days ago

Text

maintenance

dbf! joel miller x female reader

chapter 3: take what you need

rating: 18+ MDNI

masterlist

summary: big ol’ storm comes rolling through. through the rolling thunder you hear three familiar knocks. :o

word count: 9.8k (!)

tags: no outbreak!joel x fem!reader, age gap (reader~24 joel is ~45), pining, female pronouns, internal conflict, kissing, dbf!joel miller, maintenance man!joel miller, pussy pronouns, dirty talk, dry humping, grinding, dom/sub undertones if u squint, praise kink, joel talks her through it :3

a/n: hello!! getting feedback on these makes me so happy. even with the few comments i’ve already gotten, it makes my heart swell and i’ve honestly teared up at them. i used to write one direction and voltron fics when i was younger & i’m so happy to be finding writing again. every note, every reblog and every single word of feedback you guys offer means so much. tell me if you love it, tell me if you hate it, pick it apart. i wanna hear all of it!! thank you. ♥️

Your Dad keeps talking but your brain is running a marathon. He doesn't know. Neither does Joel, you think. But now that name-

Joel Miller.

That connection, it has a shape.

It has history. Memories. Drunken nights and secrets with your Dad.

Your fingers hurt with how hard you're pushing them into the countertop. You look at your Dad, still rambling. The whooshing of blood between your ears builds and you try to silence it by focusing on his lips. They curved around his next words so innocent and unknowing. It makes you want to spill your guts onto the counter.

“Yeah, kid! Joel Miller. Known him for years- he's good people. Used to work with him every day when I did that big commercial project a few years ago. Did some tile work there, even brought his brother along with him the days we needed some extra hands. Hell, he’s been on a few jobs with me since then. Bring him on specifically if I know it’ll be a big one,”

“Do you still talk to him?” It doesn't even sound like your voice when it leaves your lips.

It's muted and pathetic. You feel dizzy. Not the dizzy Joel made you feel. In a way that you're sure you're losing the color in your face.

Do you tell him?

Do you tell Joel?

“Every now and then, yeah. He keeps to himself. Quiet. Solid worker though. Don't know what the hell he's doing in maintenance, but that's Joel. Likes laying low. He’ll die standin’ up, he’s hard headed like that. One of those guys who always says less than he knows, but when he says something? You listen.”

You swallow hard.

You’ve been aching to learn more about Joel since he closed the door behind him. The last thing you wanted was your Dad being the one to fill you in.

“I can see that.”

He doesn't notice your stunned silence. He continues to walk around, even sits with you on your couch for a while and tells you about work. You nod and hum, smile when it's needed. You're not paying attention though.

He's your Dads friend. He has no idea who you are.

Did he lie? Does he know who you are?

“Alright, kid. I'll get outta your hair.” He says, clasping a hand on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

You both stand. You follow him to the door with a forced smile.

“Hey, if you see Joel again, tell him I say hey. Maybe I’ll catch him sometime.”

He's so blissfully unaware of the bomb he just dropped.

You nod your head and thank him, giving him a hug.

You're standing in silence by your door again. This time for a very different reason. Your heart is in your throat, fingers numb. You let him in, you touched him. He touched you. He is your dads friend. Your dad.

He can't know. He would've said something. He wouldn't have touched me if he did.

Would you have touched him if you knew?

You start pacing in your living room, hand over your mouth. You need to see him. You need to ask if he knows. No- you can't ask. If you ask, it ruins the chance of it happening again. Will it happen again after you tell him? But what if he finds out?

You need to see Joel. The desire is physical. Your skin aches and your chest is tight.

He has to know now. He has to. And if he didn't before, he will soon.

But then what?

Late that night you sat at your desk, his Facebook profile on your laptop, mouse hovering over the ‘Add Friend’ button for at least an hour. The skin around your nails picked raw. You can't friend him on here, that's insane. He's going to think you're crazy, and then you're gonna drop an insane bomb on him and it will scare him away. You take a deep breath. You need to think this over, you need to be careful.

You feel physically ill. The feeling has been sitting heavy in your chest since your dad left days ago. It's been almost a week since Joel kissed you in your room. It doesn't help that you're alone. You're doing what you can to distract yourself. Applying to jobs, taking walks, reading and bingeing some old horror movies. But no matter what you're doing you catch yourself imagining Joel doing them with you. You imagine he's laid into the couch with you, big hands skating up and down your legs. Or he's walking beside you under the shady trees.

It's wrong to think like that now, he's your dads friend, you have to keep reminding yourself. Joel hasn't contacted you. You don't even think he has a way.

You’re grateful when Ellie calls you, breaking the internal back and forth you've had going on for the past few days. She facetimes you.

“Heyyyyy.” Ellie's voice rings through the living room for the first time in over a week.

You smile widely when you see her face. Her freckles are prominent. This is probably the longest she's spent in the sun in some time.

“Hey! How is it there?” You say, holding your phone up so she can see your face.

“It's great, honestly. Wait- lemme show you this.” She grunts while getting up, you assume.

The camera is shaky and Ellie is cropped pretty much fully out of the screen. You can see the sky, it's a beautiful shade of blue and there are no clouds in the frame.

The opposite of here, you think. There has been a dark, angry cloud hanging since you woke up this morning. It even smelled like it was going to rain.

“Dina!” You hear Ellie shout.

“Wait a second I’m gonna get Dina to show you.” Ellie peers down to her phone briefly, cueing you into what's going on in Montana.

You laugh and nod your head even though she's not looking.

Suddenly Dina’s face comes into frame.

“I can't believe you’re alive after the other night.” Dina laughs and you laugh with her.

“Me either, to be honest, it was bad.”

Ellie shifts the phone so you're looking at her now, her brows are furrowed and eyes squinted, the bright sun warming her face.

“Ready to see this? Fuckin’ nuts.” Ellie raises her eyebrows.

“Yesss. I’m ready.” You say.

Ellie flips the camera and your jaw drops.

There's sheep.

A lot of them.

Standing and grazing, strolling and some were walking around, overlapped bleatings spilling out of your phones speaker.

“What the fuck?” You say, in awe.

You hear Dina and Ellie laugh on the other end.

“I knew her family had a farm but this is fucking nuts, right?!” Ellie shouts, out of view.

Ellie walks around, sheep around her hips, Dina coming into frame every now and then as Ellie shows off the farm life.

“Dina, how did you not tell me this before?” You gawk.

There has to be a hundred of them if not more.

“Don’t know. This is what I grew up with, just slips my mind that people find it so fascinating sometimes.” She says lightly and chuckles.

Ellie flips the camera back to her face and angles the camera high, holding it sideways. She squints one eye and looks into the camera with a wide smile.

“Sick, right? Got me a cowgirl.” Ellie muses and you see Dina’s hand push her shoulder in the corner of the frame.

You laugh.

It is beautiful.

You are beyond happy for Ellie. She met Dina in the start of sophomore year and they have been inseparable ever since. Dina is a good contrast to Ellie. Keeps her in line and focused on the important shit that Ellie sometimes lets slip through the cracks.

“Aw, fuck. Am I frozen? Can you hear me?” Ellie mutters while pulling the camera close to her face, her brows drawn together in concentration.

You shake your head.

“I can hear you, sorry.” You smile at her pinched up face.

“Oh okay. What have you been up to? Has the dryer been fine since that guy came to fix it?” Ellie asks, you can hear hay crunching under her feet, the creaking of a porch door and suddenly she's inside.

That guy.

You let out a soft sigh, stomach twisting at the thought of Joel, your Dads friend. Clearly you don’t hide your emotions well because Ellie doesn’t let you respond.

“Aw, fuck. What happened?” She sighs, propping her phone up as she bops around the kitchen.

“No- nothing. Nothing happened. The dryer is fine. I told you about the light bulb, he came and replaced it last week. Everything has been good.” That's a lie.

Nothing has been good. Your mind is constantly racing, your chest is heavy and your stomach is queasy. You want to unload everything onto Ellie, but you hesitate.

Are you in the wrong?

You made out with your Dads friend and didn’t tell either of them.

You didn’t know at that point though. It feels wrong because you want to do more than that.

Would Ellie think it's gross?

Is it gross that you find him attractive?

No.

You don’t want to think like that. Gross is the last word that comes to your mind when you think of Joel. Joel is handsome. You don’t think you’ve seen a man quite as handsome as him. He’d look good in anything.

Ellie pauses and looks at you through the phone for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Well. Whatever it is, you’re not hiding it well. I’ll be home in no time. Maybe I can sneak one of these sheep on the plane. We can keep it.” Ellie gets close to the camera and smiles widely.

You and Ellie continue to facetime for sometime. She tells you about handling the farm and finally meeting Dina’s extended family. Her parents have come to visit a few times and would come around. They were kind, gentle people. You know where Dina gets it from. Ellie tells you about the barn cat that lives there, how Dina’s sister begs it to come in the house every night, and it refuses- won’t even pass the threshold of the porch. You’d much rather have the life of a barn cat right now. Coming and going as you please, prancing through tall grass and pestering sheep as the days pass by. Having someone beg you to come be safe and warm in their hold.

The sky is dark by the time Ellie says her goodbye. The dark lingering cloud from earlier has spread, soaking up every inch of blue that tried to peek through. You walked a loop around the house, making sure all of the windows are shut and locked. Last thing you need is rainwater seeping in.

When it comes, it comes fast. Fat, heavy droplets hit the cement, soaking it through. You stand by the large bay window, curtains drawn back to watch. Puddles forming in the streets and in the patches of grass by the sidewalk. You see lightning in the distance and a low thunder rumbles a few seconds later. Wind blows the trees and its leaves scatter, twisting through the air to smack wetly into whatever surface it's being thrown into.

You leave the curtain open and settle yourself on the couch, curling up with a blanket. You snatch up the remote and search through movies on streaming apps until you settle on Pet Sematary. You love this movie and its perfect vibes for stormy nights. A comfort movie. That's what you needed after the week of inner rambling.

The lightning gets more frequent, thunder gets louder. This is bliss. Your head is empty for the first time in a week. Quiet, despite the shattering thunder and heavy rain outside. No sweating over job applications and their lack of responses. You��re pushing your internal struggle to the side to enjoy some movies in the comfy atmosphere.

Enjoying it is an understatement. You are lulled to sleep by the thud of rain against the outside of the house, the occasional flicker of lightning filling the room for a split second and illuminating all that is inside. A particularly loud pang of thunder jolts you out of your sleep state. You gasp and clutch a fist to your heaving chest. It takes a moment for you to regain your bearings. You rub your tired eyes and stretch out of the couch.

An earth shattering boom steals all the breath in your lungs. A mechanical whir sounds before every light in your living room clicks off.

“Fucking-” The bright ball of orange barely visible over the top of the building outside your window catches your attention.

TV is off, overhead lights, the fan in the living room. All of it is off. Transformer blown. Great. You whine softly and pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and click the flashlight on, sighing in relief that you have a decent amount of battery left. You go around and turn all of the lightswitches that were on, off. Something your Dad always told you to do, and it stuck. While you do that you gather all of the candles you see, silently thanking Ellie for keeping so many from her dorm room. You’ve collected nearly ten of them, scattered them around the living room. On the TV stand, the coffee table, windowsill and the rest were scattered on the floor. The room was glowing in flickering orangey, red light. It felt cozy.

You settle yourself back into the corner of the couch once you're content with the ample lighting from the candles. All of the smells mix together to make something comforting even though you can't put your finger on it. You tuck your bare legs inside your hoodie, balling up and tugging the throw blanket over yourself. You keep the curtains drawn on the bay window and you shuffle to face them, heavy lidded eyes boring out into the monsoon.

The thunder roared closer and closer together, each time it jolted your eyes open in surprise. The vibration of your phone catching you off guard. It was just a photo from Ellie. A picture of her and Dina with the beautiful blue sky you saw earlier on her facetime call. You quickly snap a picture of your current situation, the stark contrast in the skies alone was comical. Before you can press send three consecutive bangs make your heart jump. You’re sitting up straight, eyes wide. That wasn’t thunder. You’ve heard that before but theres no fucking way. You quickly stand, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. You’re aware of the chill in the air when your bare legs are exposed from their warm spot under your hoodie and the blanket not long ago. You approach the door and crack it. The red emergency light is casting shadows onto the figure in front of you while you swallow the lump in your throat.

Joel?

The past two times he's been here the sun has been illuminating his golden features. You open the door widen, your lips parted in awe, or disbelief, you can't tell which one right now as you take him in.

Joel Miller.

At your door right now, dripping and sputtering rain water off of his beautiful lips when he speaks up.

“M’truck stalled ‘bout a block out. My wipers were losin’ the fight anyways. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Didn’t know where else to go to wait it out.” He projects his voice over the loud rainfall and rumbles in the sky.

“You’re soaked.” Is all you can spit out.

He nods his head, the rain soaking his hair a darker color and plastering thick strands of curls to his face. Common sense smacks you in the face as you stand there dry and he’s continuously getting beat on by rain.

“Come in.” You blurt out and back up, allowing him space to walk into the entryway.

“Y’don’t mind?” He says while ducking in looking sheepish.

“Y-You can come in. It's not like I have electricity to offer but-”

“Dark and dry is better than soaked n’ blind on the road.”

You close the door behind him, the wind chilling you to the bone. You shiver as you lock it up. You take a step back and take him in. Standing in your entryway, his dark t-shirt soaked even darker and clinging to his skin. You’re jealous of it. Fat drops of rain slide down the curves of his curls and drip down the sides of his face. They roll from his temple and down his strong jaw, getting muddled in his beard hairs. Roll from the curls tucked behind his ear, down the thick vein in his neck and pool at his collar before slowly being absorbed into the fabric. You swallow hard to prevent yourself from drooling.

Joel stands there in silence, soaked through. His eyes adjust to the warmth of the candle light, adoring the way it flickers across your soft features. You look comfortable, big hoodie hanging from your frame, bare legs on display again. He takes an extra second to let his eyes linger at the curve of your thighs, where his hand was merely a week ago. He remembers how soft, plush and warm they were. He’s getting carried away, he needs to stop. He pulls his attention away from the exposed skin and settles them onto your face again. Your eyes look tired, a pang of guilt hits deep in his chest, did he wake you? His brows start to saddle together before you yip quietly. He’s been dripping onto the tile, a decent sized puddle forming around him, the cold water spreading and finally making contact with your foot. It pulled you both out of the trance you seemed to be in. He looks down to see just that.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m gonna get you a towel.”

You both speak over each other. You don't acknowledge his apology, there's nothing for him to apologize for, it should be you. You can't imagine how cold he must be if you got goosebumps from that one gust of wind. Joel is soaked to the bone.

You make quick work of the stairs, grabbing a handful of towels, making sure there's enough for him, and enough to soak up the puddle on the floor. Just as quick as you went up, you came back down, shoving the fluffy bath towels to his chest. His wet fingers brush yours and the way your body jolts doesn't go unnoticed by Joel. You seem twitchy and guarded. He feels shameful, is it because he almost laid you down on your bed before getting up and practically running out of there? Or was it because he did that and then had zero contact with you since then. The latter. No shit, Joel.

“Thank you.”

Joel kicks off his boots and peels off his soggy socks, drying himself with the towels you so generously provided. You stand in the living room and watch, practically gawking. He tosses the towel over his head and brings his hands up to scruff up his hair underneath. He pulls the towel off and runs his thick hands through his wet, messy hair.

Fuck, it looks beautiful. Is this what he looks like after a shower? Beautiful curls slicked back from a push of his hand, coiling at the back of his neck. Smaller curls falling around his temples as they broke loose from larger chunks. He holds that towel over his forearm, stepping back as you take the other to sop up the puddle between the two of you. You fold it and leave it next to the door, picking up his boots carefully and setting them on top of the folded towel. You stand up straight and brush your hands on your hoodie.

Joel is watching you move. He realized within the past week he hadn’t taken enough time to study you the short times he was here. Or maybe the way you looked at him while kneeling on your bed was just so significant he couldn’t remember anything else while he’d touch himself in bed at night. His heart skips a beat at the thought.

Do you feel the same way? Are you lying in bed at night, hand between your thighs because you can’t get him out of your head? Or is he stuck in a fantasy world? Maybe he should just ask. But he doesn’t want to scare you away.

He has to give himself a reality check. The last words you spoke to him before he left last week was reassuring him that you wanted that, too. It didn't feel real to him. Too precious, careful and beautiful. The way your face is hidden behind your hair as you bend over, your delicate hand coming to tuck a lock behind your ear. So soft. He did that the last time he was here. The way you carefully pick up his boots and place them down without a noise. He flexes his fingers not realizing that he was making a fist so tight that his blunt nails left indents in the fleshy heel of his palm.

“You’re still all wet.” You speak up finally, frowning at him.

Fuck, theres that face again. That face makes his chest throb. He wants to cup your rosy cheeks in his big hands and plant his lips right on that pout.

Joel shrugs his shoulders. “S’okay. Better than before.”

He is proud of himself for keeping his cool as far as his exterior goes.

“Actually, our dryer works now, thanks to you. I can toss them in there if you’d like.” You offer, neither of you have moved yet.

Both of you standing still, a few feet apart. You feel like he’s holding something back. The tension is thick and you want to climb him like a tree right now but you need to remind yourself what this past week has been like for you. Making yourself so stressed over a simple make out because he knows your Dad. You need to hold yourself together at least until you tell him. He’s standing here- wet and real and quiet- and he doesn’t know you’re your fathers daughter.

He chuckles and nods his head once before realization settles over him.

“I don’t have nothin’ to change into. Don’t think your lil’ shirts would fit me. Also, don’t know if you remember, but the power is out. I’m good at fixin’ but not good enough that the dryer would start workin’ with no power, sweetheart.” He says and his lips twitch like he's holding back a smile.

His shoulders relax as he breathes out. Your stomach tightens at his comment. The lil’ shirt you wore for him last week. The too tight one that showed just a little bit of your tummy?

Joel is talking about that little black shirt and he doesn’t miss the look on your face when you piece that together. He has a feeling you put that on just for him the other day. It hugged your torso beautifully. But Joel's favorite part of that shirt wasn't the way it settled on your skin, but rather the places it didn't. The neck of it swooped to show off your cleavage- don’t get it twisted but that part that really does his knees in was the bit of your tummy that was showing. That sliver of skin was enough to keep him going this past week. He desperately wanted his hands there again, tracing aimlessly or sprawling his broad palms there.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, holding your hands together in front of you and squeezing the absolutely living shit out of them to keep yourself from reaching out and grabbing him.

“I’ve got something of Jesse’s. I’ll be back.” You were quick with your words and even quicker to run up the steps.

Jesse?

Who the fuck is Jesse?

He knows your roommate is Ellie, that's who placed the first work order. Wait, he's heard you mutter that name before, right before he carried your dresser upstairs. This Jesse told you he wouldn't be able to come and help you move the dresser until later, Joel didn't stop to ask the question then, he just wanted to help you. Wouldn't you stop him from kissing you if you had a boyfriend?

Woah now- Don’t jump to conclusions, he's nervous and getting himself all twisted over such a small detail. He unknits his brows when you come puttering down the steps again, holding your hand out with clothes. Joel swallows with enough force you can watch his Adam's apple bob. You show him a kind smile, gesturing the clothes towards him when he doesn't take them right away.

“Here, they should fit. If you wanna go to the bathroom and change, I can hang your wet stuff up. Is that okay?”

Joel hates how awkward he's being. But now he can't stop thinking about whose clothes he's taking. His eyes flicker from the clump of clothes to your face. You are bold, but certainly not bold enough to offer up your boyfriend's clothes to him to change into, right?

Joel gives a tight smile.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse as he grabs the clothes.

“Bathroom is at the top of the steps, it's the first door right there.” You say and point to it from the bottom of the steps.

Joel nods his head and makes his way up the steps as gracefully as he can in soaking wet jeans. The second the bathroom door closes you blow a fat breath through your lips. You’re so fucking tense right now. You are beyond conflicted and the coil in the pit of your belly grows taught the longer you look at him. Quickly, you give your living room a once over. No trash or anything extremely embarrassing lying around. You make quick work of his clothes, writing them out in the kitchen sink before laying them over the backs of your kitchen chairs, making your way back into the living room. You close your eyes and steady your breathing while you wait for him.

You hear heavy footsteps shortly after. Joel doesn't see you in the entryway anymore, he cranes his head around the archway into the living room and pulls his lips in a tight smile when he sees you. He takes a step forward, bringing his body past the threshold to stand in front of you, his wet clothes in hand. They’re dripping onto the hardwood floor. Soft pattering is a grave difference compared to the beating your windows are taking from the rain. You’re not even giving him the decency to look him in the face right now. The sweatpants look to be a decent fit, maybe a little tight around his thighs but you’re not arguing. What catches you off guard and knocks the wind from your lungs is the shirt. Your eyes are trained on his broad chest. You don't even know if he could take a deep breath in this thing, that's how tight it is. The outline of his soft belly makes your heart throb.

Okay, reel it in.

God, his arms. You think if he moved the right way they’d rip right through the fabric.

This is just as lewd as him in the wet t-shirt.

Joel clears his throat and you snap out of it. You snatch his wet clothes out of his hands, letting him know that you’ll be right back. When you disappear down to the basement Joel turns to look outside. It doesn't look like it has let up at all. He rolls his shoulders before crossing his arms over his chest. This shirt is fucking too small. Is it odd that this offers Joel some confidence? That if Jesse is your boyfriend, Joel is bigger than him. It strokes his ego. His head whips around when he hears your bare feet pad against the hardwood floor.

Holy shit, his arms are huge. You thought they were big before. While they are crossed over his chest in front of you, they look about double the size of your head, you think.

“How long has the power been out?” Joel breaks the heavy silence.

You nod your head and gesture to all of the candles around.

“Went out a little before you knocked. You didn’t hear the transformer? Grateful Ellie has a bunch of these or else we’d be sittin’ here in the pitch black.” You smile, walking over to the couch.

“You can sit, y’know.” You tell him while taking a seat in the corner of the couch.

Joel hums in appreciation before lowering his body onto the couch next to you. The couch isn't big. It can fit three people comfortably, four is everyones willing to be touching knees. But Joel is so big and broad, you don’t know if you could fit four people on here with him being one of them. You turn slightly to face him, hands nervously picking at a loose string on your sleeve.

“Are the clothes okay?”

Joel clears his throat and nods, thoughts of this Jesse lingering in the back of his mind. He wants to ask, but doesnt want to seem like he's jumping down your throat. It's a fine line he's walking.

“Lil’ tight up top.” He chuckles, leaning into the armrest of the couch, knees spreading apart from the other. “They’re fine. Thank you again. For all’a this. Dryin’ my clothes n’ letting me barge in like this.”

You laugh softly before your features soften to something more genuine.

“Yeah, of course.”

Pliant silence falls over the both of you. Illuminated by the orange flickering glow that licks over both of your features. It casts heavy shadows, emphasizing each curve. The storm is still rolling strong. Lightning paints the room white every few minutes and the thunder that follows after rattles the windows. The both of you pretend to look at everything else but each other. Stolen glances making your heart skip when he almost catches you.

“S’Jesse your boyfriend?” Joel finally breaks the silence.

His eyes widen at your expression. Your face pinched in confusion. You stuttered on your words a bit before choking out a light laugh and shaking your head. You held your hands up, palms towards him and shook them.

“No! Jesse? God- no. He’s friends with Ellie and I.” You toss your head back and laugh a little more.

Joel closes his eyes and sighs, relief visibly relaxing his frame. Your laugh radiates between his ears and he can’t help the smile spreading his lips, a low chuckle of his own rumbling from his chest. It was infectious. He much prefers this over the pouty face you put on earlier.

“Don’t you think your last visit would’ve gone a little differently if he was?” Your laugh settles and you turn your attention back to him.

You’re taking the opportunity to chop at the tension. If he’s gonna be here until the storm calms down, you don’t want to sit in heavy silence the whole time.

Joel's chest grows tight. You’re bringing it up. He can’t read the way you’re bringing that up. Is it laced with regret or want? You told him you wanted that, but that was a week ago. There has been zero communication from that point until now. He’d be lying if he said that week wasn’t spent waiting for another maintenance request to come in from you. He wouldn’t care if it was a lie. He wouldn’t care if it was as simple as changing another lightbulb. He wanted to see you. He thought showing up out of the blue was uncalled for and probably scary for you. But that's exactly what he did tonight. It felt different even if he was justifying it for his own selfish reasons.

Joel shrugs his shoulders, hesitant to meet your eyes, afraid of the distaste he might find in them. When he does meet them, there isn’t any. He narrows his eyes in concentration, maybe the lighting is hiding it. You give him an expectant look, waiting for his response. He doesn’t find any distaste. He sees soft and kind. Welcoming.

“It should’ve gone differently for ‘nother reason.” He swallows thickly, wiping his sweaty palms over his thighs before settling them in his lap.

That hits you like a ton of bricks. What could he mean by that? You want to question him but your Dad’s voice is bouncing around in your brain. They’re friends.

“This is normal, right? Casual stormy hangouts with my building’s maintenance man.” You laugh softly, trying to bring some reality back to the conversation mostly to remind yourself who he is and that you shouldn’t be feeling the way you do.

“Is that what I am?” He raises his eyebrows, shifting his body more towards you, his arm closest to you swinging up to rest on the back of the couch.

You freeze. Your mouth is so dry, it’s uncomfortable. No, you want to tell him. That's not all he is. That's all he knows he is. If I tell him the truth this ends. He’ll be angry or uncomfortable. He’ll walk out. You won’t see him again, not like this at least.

“You fixed the dryer.”

“I did.” He seems amused.

“And the lightbulb.”

His hand grips the cushion at the back of the couch, sighing softly while adjusting. He pushed his hips forward and slouched deeper into the couch.

“Want me to fix anythin’ else?”

There it is. That same syrupy draw he had in your bedroom last week. When he called you beautiful. Your body reacts immediately. Your breath catches and your thighs press together. Yes, you want to scream. You want to tell him to make all the racing thoughts go quiet but you can’t. You can’t speak. The silence is comfortable despite you feeling like you could jump out of your skin. You wonder if he feels the same.

Joel lets his question hang in the air. It’s thick. He likes watching you squirm in front of him. He slowly drags his palm along his thigh, resting it on his knee. His hand at the back of the couch hangs there. He’s inches from you and he’s fighting every urge to reach out and actually touch you. Feel the way your soft skin gives way under his grasp.

He can tell you hold a lot on your shoulders. You’re jittery and always huffing breaths. An anxious lil’ thing. He wants to make you forget about whatever it is you’re stressing about. He wants to quiet the non stop in your brain. Joel wants to make you feel good.

“Joel. There's something I need to-“

“Don’t say it.” His voice is low, rough like gravel soaked in honey.

You freeze. Fuck, does he know?

“If you’re about to tell me that kiss was a mistake- don’t.”

‘Because I’ve been telling myself not to think about it. Not to want it again. But I do. I want it like hell.’ Is what he wants to tell you. He’s afraid if he said that, you’d tell him it means nothing. He would have to believe you. And he doesn’t want to.

You open your mouth, lips shaped around the words to tell him about your Dad. Just say it. Say he knows your father. That he’s your dad’s friend. That you shouldn’t have kissed him, or liked it, or thought about it every hour since.

Just say it.

You don’t.

“Joel-“

‘Don’t tell me something that makes me stop. Let me have this. Let me give this to you. One goddamn thing that feels good again.’ Joel hopes his expression is conveying his emotions because they’re too big to tell you so soon.

“I keep thinking about the way you taste.” Joel settles on that.

Your eyes are wide. With one swift movement Joel is close to you on the couch. You don’t move just yet. If you let him kiss you, you can’t take it back. If you tell him who you are, this ends. But if you lie? If you lie, maybe you get to keep him for just a little longer.

Joel's thick fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer. You lean into his touch, your shoulder brushing against his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything, darlin’. Just let me kiss you one more time.”

“Joel..” You say his name again in a whisper, eyes locked onto his lips.

You don’t stop him when he leans in closer, you lean in and kiss him. Joel's broad hands cup your cheeks. He kisses you hungrily, like he’s a man ten years starved. Just like the first time, you melt into his touch and twist your hands up in the fabric of his too tight shirt. You’re soft and pliable in Joel's hands. You’ve got him tied up in knots and you don’t even know it.

Joel angels the kiss downwards, shifting on the couch to crane over you. His broad shoulders shadow your frame as he pulls back from the kiss, his warm breath puffing over your face. Your eyes are blown black. Wide like saucers. Cheeks are flushed.

A second later Joel's hands are gone from your cheeks and he’s settled back into the cushion of the couch, his chest rising and falling quicker than before. You’re frozen. You feel like the worst person alive. But you want him so badly you’d lie to your fathers face to keep this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want this. Didn’t need this. You want to give into him.

You don’t know if it's because it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, or maybe it’s because no one has ever touched you like Joel does. There's been boys here or there making comments, Owen specifically being persistent but you didn’t feel like that with any of them. Joel is looking at you right now like he could eat you alive. It makes you feel good. Makes you feel wanted. You couldn’t name the last time someone has made you feel that way. You can’t wrap your head around anything further than kissing him, it’d feel too surreal. But you want it, badly.

Joel evens his breathing from the other side of the couch, his eyes still trained on you. Everywhere on you. Your face, your shaky hands, the curve of your thigh disappearing under your hoodie.

“C’mere.” He gruffs.

His voice almost startles you, too lost in your own head. You furrow your eyebrows and scoot a little closer on the couch.

Joel sucks his teeth and shakes his head, leaning into the back of the couch and spreading his thighs apart. His hands rest at his thighs.

“No. C’mere darlin’.” He draws, tapping his fingers on his lap.

Excitement jolts through your spine and curls around your belly. You bring yourself to your knees, shuffling closer before slinging your knee over his lap. Joel's thick fingers wrap around the side of your knee, guiding it over his lap and letting it sink into the cushion. You’re straddling him, hovering over his lap.

His other hand rests on the top of your opposite thigh, his calloused thumb rubbing small, lazy circles into your skin. Joel doesn’t ignore the way your breath hitches when he does that. A coy smirk plays at the corner of his lips while he relaxes into the cushions behind him.

You swallow thickly, eyes darting around his face frantically. The soft creases by the corners of his eyes. The way the grey in his hair seeps into his beard, speckling through the dark hairs. Your body jolts, nerves heightened, the earth cracking thunder rumbling through the house. Joel puts his hands at your hips, pressing his fingers into you through the fabric of your hoodie.

“Easy.. Relax.” He says smoothly, putting pressure on your hips to coax you to settle on his lap.

You gladly comply, his words twisting your belly. Letting your thighs relax, all of your weight settled in his lap with a quiet groan. The weight of his hands at your hips, the stretch of the inside of your thighs as they entrap the width of his hips. Hands are pressed against his shoulders, fingertips pressing into his muscle. You feel arousal pooling at your center.

“M’gonna make you feel good, yeah?” He nods his head, his low voice is breathless.

Your shoulders crumple, muscles in your tummy contracting, his words affecting you physically. With brows saddled together, you nodded your head. One of your hands ball his shirt in your fist.

“Lemme hear you, baby.” Joel growls.

“Y-Yeah. Yes. Please.” You huff out, nodding again.

“Good girl.”

Joel swallows your whimper, not giving you a second before planting his lips on yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours. He wastes no time to drag his tongue along your lower lip. You part your lips willingly, tongue meeting his and moving rhythmically. Joel's hands push your hips, grinding you down into his lap. His cock is hard beneath the sweatpants, throbbing against your clothed core as you respond to the coax of his hands. You slowly dragged your hips back and forth, rolling them against his lap and whining quietly against his lips.

Joel pressed his teeth into the flesh of your lower lip, tilting his head back before letting it snap back into place and pressing a wet kiss there to soothe it. The whine that drew from you hit him deep in his stomach.

“God, listen to you.” He muses with a lazy smirk on his lips. “Soundin’ real pretty.”

Fuck, you didn’t know you have a praise kink until now. Your face pinches up when the pang of pleasure is sent through your core, settling low and adding to the slick between your legs. Lightning illuminates the room for a split second before it returns to its orangey, flickering hue.

Joel's hands slide under the fabric of your hoodie.

“Keep movin’.” He encourages you as your hips sputter when his hands leave.

“O-okay.” You breathe out.

Your fist tightens, tugging at his shirt. Warm, rough hands meet the bare skin of your torso and your breath hitches. A low groan rumbles from Joel's chest. You’re melting against him and he’s barely touched you yet. He wants to see you unravel from his doing. Joel doesn’t mind being greedy in this setting. He wants to take everything you’ll give to him. He gets off on seeing you lose yourself in pleasure, grinding into his lap.

His hands slip farther up your skin, fingers wrapping at the spot under your ribs, thumbs rubbing in small circles on your exposed skin. His grip tightens as he bucks his hips into yours. A broken moan is ripped from your chest, the pressure against your soaked cunt sending stars across your eyes. Thunder cracks and the padding of rain hiding your uneven breaths.

“Make yourself feel good.” He commands, voice softening.

Your hips stutter, his request making you nervous. Make yourself feel good, using him? Red creeps up your neck and spreads over your cheeks. Lightning lights up the room.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby. Go on n’ take what you need.” He rasps, pulling your torso into his.

His lips ghost the shell of your ear, heaving chests just inches apart.

“Let me hear you.” He coaxes for your words again.

The only response you could muster was a whine of his name and, fuck, Joel grips your ribs harder, restraining himself from fucking up into you again. He meant it when he said he wanted you to take what you need. He wanted to watch you pant, whine and chase after your high. He wasn’t worried about his own physical pleasure right now. Watching you repeatedly circle your hips into his was pleasure enough for him. It makes his chest tighten, throat dry up and his cock pulse.

Joel slips one of his hands over your clothed breast, pressing his finger pads into the fleshy bit that spills out of the top of your sports bra.

“Fuck- Joel.” You whimper, your hand that isn’t gripping his t-shirt moves quickly to lace itself in his damp hair.

“That feel good, pretty girl?”

He’s throwing new pet names your way and if you were standing they’d make your knees buckle.

“Feels. R-Really. Really good.” You stutter out, jaw falling slack.

“That's it, baby.” He praises, letting his head rest against the back of the couch to take you in.

He kneads his hand into your tit, palm rubbing against your hardened nipple beneath the fabric. You arch your back, pushing your chest further into his hand. Your hips buck into his hard on as pressure builds in your core. The room is filled with wanton moans and the soft squelch of wet fabric sticking to your slick cunt. Joel's eyes never leave you. They linger at your mouth to make sure he doesn’t miss any of the noises that spill out. The constant thud of rain fading from his brain as he focuses everything he has on you.

Babbled words spill from your plump, glossy lips. Joel's fingers curl around the cup of your sports bra and tugs down, letting your boob spill out of the restraining fabric. His palm immediately goes back to work on your bare breast, kneading and pushing his palm into the soft flesh.

“Speak up.” He tells you.

“Joel-“

“Yes, baby?”

“Please.” You beg quietly.

Not for anything specific. The coil in the pit of your stomach has been tightening, it's threatening to snap and you need to feel him. He’s cool and collected from what you can tell and the imbalance turns you on even more. How can he be so put together and grounding when he’s unwinding you thread by thread? Making you a glassy eyed, whimpering mess on his lap.

“Tell me what you need. Wanna hear you.” He gruffs.

“Touch me.” You blurt out breathlessly.

Joel tuts and shakes his head.

“Be more specific.” He commands.

You crane your head into your shoulder and whine in frustration, hips sputtering against his. Your slick has soaked through your panties, sleep shorts and it's begun bleeding into the crotch of Joel's sweatpants. He can feel how warm you are even through all the layers.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, hm?”

You nod your head in a hurry. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you whine.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all week.” He whispers and leans in, pressing a hot kiss to your temple.

You collapse into him, your full weight on him.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve touched myself to the thought of you this past week,” Your name leaves his lips effortlessly.

His words beat into your core. The thought of Joel touching himself in his bed to the thought of you drives you crazy. When you’re able to form coherent thoughts you’ll tell him you’ve done the same. But none of that felt half as good as this does.

“T-Touch-“ Was all you were able to get out again.

Joel's lips press hot, open mouth kisses to your jaw and just below it, nipping there before dragging the flat of his tongue over it. His thick forefinger and thumb rolling your nipple slowly before tugging.

“Alright, baby. I got you.” You mutter against your damp skin, his breath fanning over the wet spot sent a shiver down your spine.

While one of his hands stays kneading your breast, the other travels from your ribs and smoothes over the curve of your ass, gripping it tightly. It doesn’t stay there long as it slips down your thigh, raking his dull nails against your sensitive skin and back up, his large hand sprawling against your lower stomach, thumb pushing between your folds. You cry out a moan, your forehead falling onto his broad, warm shoulder. Joel cranes his thumb, pressing into the soaked fabric and making contact with your clit. You sink your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the noises that threaten to fall past it. You hand curls into his hair and tugs, eliciting a moan from him.

Joel's hand palms your breast, pulling your bra down once more to give him more freedom, gripping it roughly before returning to teasing and rolling your hardened nipple

“Joel- I’m c-close, please. I’m gon-“ You whine your heavy breaths fanning out over his neck.

“Give it to me.” He says slowly, your ‘please’ making him feel dizzy.

Your hips buck forward and fall out of rhythm as you grow closer.

“Atta girl. Doin’ so good for me.”

His praises push you closer to the edge.

“Go ‘head n’ cum for me, pretty girl.” He rasps.

That's all it takes.

Your eyes screw shut, white streaks flooding the back of your lids. You cum, hard. Stomach is hot, muscles twitch and tighten under your skin. A slew of moans and his name leave your lips, muffled by you pressing your face into his shoulder. He releases your breast, that hand settles on your hip, takes over for you and he grinds you into him to ride out your high. Your breath hitches as his thumb adds more pressure. The feeling of fresh arousal seeping quickly through the already soaked fabric. He continues to work your hips, slowing them down as he feels your thighs twitch and torso quiver.

“You did so good.” He whispers into your hair, pressing a soft kiss there.

You whine in response and again when he pulls his glistening thumb away. He wipes it at the inside of your thigh before wrapping both of his strong arms around your shaking frame. The whooshing between your ears making everything sound far away, the rain, low rumble of thunder at the storm moves farther, his deep, syrupy voice.

“I gotcha, baby. Relax.”

You do. Deep inhale and exhale causes you to fold deeper into him.

“Thank you.” Is all you can muster.

Your body rises and falls with Joel's chest that shakes with a low chuckle. The two of you sit there like that for a moment, chests swelling and falling opposite the other. Fitting together nicely. You shift on his lap, thighs burning from the stretch and you feel him still hard under you. You whine quietly at the feeling, still sensitive from your high. You shift farther back onto his thighs, drawing distance between you, your hands smoothing over his shoulders and onto his chest. Joel lifts his head and furrows his eyebrows, watching you carefully.

Your hands skate lower, down his torso and pressed into the soft of his belly.

“What’re you gettin’ up to?” He questions.

“Wanna make you feel good, too.” You respond in a quiet voice.

Joel smiles warmly but shakes his head.

“Uh-uh. Don’t worry about me, darlin’. Watchin’ you made me feel plenty good.”

Your face pinches in confusion. He doesn’t want you to touch him? Your body fills with an anxious driven pit.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. Pulling your hands back from his torso and wrapping them around your own to comfort yourself.

Joel quickly shakes his head and reaches out to grab your hands, placing them on your thighs, and his hands over yours.

“Not at all. You did good, told you just that.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your kiss. “Y’looked like a hurt puppy earlier, wanted to make whatevers goin’ on in that busy lil’ mind a’ yours quiet for a while.” He presses another kiss there before leaning back into the cushion.

Your eyes soften. He just wanted to make you feel good with nothing in return? Your expression is clear to Joel.

“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” He brings a hand up to cup your warmed cheek. “These lil’ college boys always expect somethin’ in return, hm?”

You nod your head into his palm slowly.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout me. Just relax.” His voice is slow and sweet.

You try to. Your tired body does, but your mind is still racing. He said you looked like a hurt puppy earlier. Are you really worrying over your Dad that loudly in your expression? Enough for him to notice in this flickering candle light? His hand runs smoothly over your back, quieting your rambling thoughts. Your body is heavy and it feels like there's weights wrapped around your wrists and ankles. So with a deep breath in and out you close your eyes and relax. You’re allowing yourself to have this and enjoy it, too.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep. You don’t remember walking up the steps and getting under your covers. But when you wake up that's where you are. Tucked under the covers in your bed still in your hoodie and shorts. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up, squinting. The sun is rising.

It takes a minute for your brain to wake up and its first thought is; Joel.

You throw the blanket off of your legs and hop out of bed on wobbly legs. You make it down the steps in record time and stand in the entryway, eyes blinking rapidly.

All of the candles are blown out and sitting on your coffee table. You take a few more steps, his clothes are no longer hanging on the back of your dining room chairs. A few more steps. The clock on the oven is blinking: 12:00. Powers back on.

“Joel?” You call out quietly.

You’re upset to not see him here. Even more upset that you fell asleep so easily on top of him, crumpled into his chest. There's an uneasy feeling trickling over your shoulders and settling at the top of your stomach like reality just hit you. Your lips still feel swollen from last night. You didn’t tell him last night.You actually made it so much worse for the both of you. The only difference is that Joel is blissfully unaware of it right now.

All you can smell is him. Rainwater and Joel soaked into your clothing. You need to get it off or else there's no way you’ll be able to do anything productive today. You trudge back up the stairs and into the bathroom, quickly shedding your clothing and turning the water on. Once warm you hop in and draw the curtain closed. It drips down your torso and over the source muscles of your thighs. You sigh quietly at the pull in them, running your hand over your skin.

You finish washing your hair and body. Strawberry scented body wash. No longer smelling like Joel. It makes you frown.

Hours later you sat at your desk, scrolling through your email at your computer monitor. Your eyes have been bored into this screen for what seems like hours. Responding to email threads, practically one step away from begging these companies to spare you a fucking internship.

You express your frustrations to Ellie when she calls you on the phone after hearing about the big storm in your town last night.

“Did water get in anywhere?” She asks and you hear rustling over the phone line.

“Nope. Lost power but it came back sometime when I was asleep. Everything seems fine.” You tell her, leaving out the details of a certain visitor you had.

“Not too bad then. Hate to rub it in your face but all I’ve seen is clear skies since I got here.” She chuckles.

You roll your eyes playfully.

“It wasn’t too bad, really. Today isn’t as sticky hot now that that's over. That's a Plus.”

She tells you about Dina’s family and the farm. Tells you that she's never had a better scrambled egg in her entire life, Dina’s Mom is a pro apparently. She asks you about the internships and you tell her you’re fighting for your fucking life.

“It’s not even required hours, who cares.” She says, your name falling from her lips in a tut.

“I care. I just need something. Money and to keep my mind occupied.”

“If you need something then why not go back to Riverside?” Ellie suggests.

You groan at the thought.

Riverside Diner was the job you scored when you first came to school in Austin. Local diner, decent size, gets a good amount of foot traffic and a ton of regular customers. When you say a ton, you mean it. During your first summer after your freshman year, you picked up more hours. Working five, sometimes six days a week when tourists would flood the city, rather than the one or two shifts a week. Everyday the same man would sit at the counter and order a coffee and a slice of pie. There was a woman who’d come in every Sunday afternoon with three younger girls. A boy around your age that you recognized from campus would come and get pancakes multiple times a week. You didn’t really notice all of the regulars when you were working part time during the school year. It felt like its own little town.

“Don’t groan at me.” Ellie sucks her teeth.

“I think I was just hell bent on getting an internship like everyone else this summer. It’s not a bad idea though.”

“It’s not at all. Frank always loved having you there anyway. He’d probably give you a shift the next day if you asked for it.”

“You’re right. When are you coming back? This house is too quiet with just me.” You neglect the fact that it was anything but quiet last night.

Despite the rain and the thunder, Joel had you a mess in minutes. You don’t tell her you let your dad’s friend touch you. And that it felt safe. And hot. Perfect.

“‘Bout ten days.”

You hear Dina’s voice on the other side of the line calling Ellie. With a small sigh Ellie says her goodbyes. She lets you know that she will text you later.

With that you’re sitting in silence at your desk again, mulling over the last 24 hours. You replay it like a movie, over and over again. His reassuring, coaxing words of praise. God, you could feel your panties dampen at the thought.

Joel Miller is gonna get you in trouble.

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knight-of-flowerss · 2 months ago

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Nerd!Cregan brothers best friend type situation like Jace’s twin sister and obviously even in the au she’s the princess-esque type, rich family, cregan and jace she thinks are losers but like her and cregan actually make such a sweet couple like ugh him rambling about a game and she’s like babe i really dont give a fuck or understand but i love you so im listening (but really she’s just drooling over his bicep as he waves it around explaining some anime shit)

NERDS HAVE THE BIGGEST DICKS OKAY???

HEHEHEH YESSSS I LOVE NERDS OH MY GOD 😭🙏

Sorry but she's deffo his childhood bully💀 "dad, how did you meet mom?" "Oh, she would cut my hair and chase me and your uncle around with a knife when we were little.. hm.. good days.." and kids are like wtf- 😀🧍‍♀️

This is lowkey a brain dump of Nerd/Geek!Cregan, would love to write a more story like one but I just HAD to do a brain dump lmao

Also I have three different geeky things mentioned in here, 1 is Demon Slayer, 2 is Star Wars and 3 is a poem and if y'all can tell me what poem, I'll give you a lollipop or something or like a fic idk girl

MDNI 18+!!!

MASTERLIST

"So- Tanjiro and Nezuko are siblings, yeah? Their whole family gets killed by a demon and Nezuko gets turned into one! And there's these people- they're called demon slayers - they kill these demons and like protect everyone and-" At this point, you had zoned out. He was just sat there rambling on about Demon killer or Slayer demon or whatever the fuck it is.

Your loud smacks are heard through his yapping, the chewing gum becoming a weird, warm, melted texture in your mouth since it'd been there for so long.

Cregan was hot. So fucking hot. But goddamn, sometimes you had to tune him out.

Like, even during sex you have to shut him up.

You're actually surprised he isn't more quiet during sex. He's fucking his best friends little sister and all he can do is whine and moan. I mean, I think he got it from you though.

The first time you fucked him, it was his finals week. Non-stop revision for the overwhelmed nerd. Physics or chemistry or whatever confusing science shit he did - it had a specific name - fell on deaf ears.

You had asked him about it, to put his mind off of cumming too fast. Virgin. So he rambled on and on about endless science-y things, even getting so engrossed to the point that he had kind of forgotten that he had one of the hottest chicks in school bouncing on his cock like her life depended on it.

But his whines and moans were the best, literally music to your fucking ears. This was never supposed to happen. Never. He was this whiney little bitch boy that she's known since all three of them were in nappies.

You were there when he wet himself at Jenny D'Minco's sixth birthday party and everyone laughed at him, you included. You were there when he cried over the fact that you crumpled his favourite Pokémon card when he was eight. You were there when he busted his nose trying to impress a girl at the roller rink when she was sixteen and he was barely twelve.

You were even there the first time he came in his pants. 15 years old, surrounded by hot, older girls in bikinis at a pool party and one rubbed up on him? Yeah, he was a gonner before he even registered it.

Watching him grow up, seeing all the awkward shit that made him a 'nerd' and a 'geek', etc, should've given you the ick, it really should've. Especially since he was three years younger that you, but you're a nasty bitch deep down inside.

You lied to yourself. Telling yourself you didn't like him. That he was weird and an incel. But god, you'd be lying if you said that watching him jerk off in the bathroom sink when he thinks he's all alone in the house didn't turn you on to the fucking max.

But he had joined University. Left everyone behind. And so did your younger brother. He left a scrawny, whiney bitch that you wanted to jump the bones of but held yourself back, and came back a fucking man that could probably do curls with your full weight and not even break a sweat.

Safe to say, your panties didn't survive that one.

He had grown more confident over those few years too, truly finding himself at Uni. As if he wasn't himself already. But he just felt more comfortable in his own skin.

And back to where we began. Anime. Fucking anime. This man rambles about anime when he should be choking you out with his bicep as he fucks you from behind. But noooo, you're fuck buddies with the bloody BFG who refuses to hurt you.

After what seems like hours to you - it was really just three hours, I mean, how inconsiderate y'all, it ain't even that long 🙄 - he finally paid attention to you.

"And Anakin gets sent to protect Padmè in Naboo, which is obviously where they finally admit they love each other, until Padmè like- rejects him! To keep each other safe, but still!-" Your spit drools down his arm as his fingers delve into your warmth. It doesn't even seem to phase him, the fact that he's finger fucking you blind.

He has some YouTube video on in the background, showing the timeline of Anakin and Padmè and their love story, a Jedi and a former Queen turned Senator- God! You're actually learning some of this bullshit!

A high pitched moan escapes you before you can help it as his fingers find that one spot that makes your legs turn into jelly and your eyes roll back into your head.

And this fucker doesn't bat an eye.

"I think the way they had Padmè's funeral is so interesting- I mean, they literally posed her to still look pregnant, no one knew Luke and Leia were even born! They literally protected them from Anakin- Vader, since birth!" He gushes, grinning at the fact. He didn't find the fact that she was dead enjoyable or anything, he just appreciated the time and effort put into the fifth and sixth episode, the extra details making it so much better.

Cregan's gaze finally flicks down to you and his smile goes from wide and endearing to soft and affectionate. "Gods.. you look so beautiful right now sweet'eart.." Yep. That did it. Him looking into your eyes as he calls you "sweetheart" in that thick accent of his? Oh, you were a gonner before you even realised it.

With a loud whine, your thighs clamp around his arm, trembling slightly as you utter a soft "fuck.." under your breath. And then the part you love the most, his fucking whimpering.

No matter what you do together, no matter how loud or quiet you are, Cregan always has a reaction when you cum. Always. Whimpering and whining as his lip catches between his front teeth and his eyebrows furrow.

Also, don't get me STARTED on when you haven't seen him in a while and you're finally alone. Literally bones = jumped.

He weeps softly, tearing streaming down his face as his hips buck up, whimpers slipping from his lips involuntarily as you suck him off. Well, he always cried when you do. Probably one of the hottest things he does.

You're evil too, you don't even let him cum. Just leaving him high and dry until he finally musters up the courage to treat you how you oh so desire.

I mean, dominant Cregan groaning and moaning in your ear as he pounds into your cunt is fucking amazing and all but, riding him is just so much better.

His thick girth filled you up perfectly, each ridge catching on your gummy walls. "A-and.. the Duke kills the Duchess- well.. fuck- ah!.. He gets jealous and- shit!"

He gets so loud that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth, gripping his cheeks firmly as you ground your hips, teasing him just enough.

You love your geeky fuck buddy- I mean like! You like him.. but he's hotter when he can't shut up, drunk on your pussy.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood @velaryyon

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loversrocktvgirl2 · 6 days ago

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Hiii Mari!!!(can I call you that?)

Ugh I have so many ideas in my brain🥲

But what about Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Tony (+anyone else you might wanna add) with an s/o who's got adhd? Not the like, "extroverted" 24/7 adhd, but where they js get random bursts of talkative adhd and stuff?

Or, another separate little idea, them with an s/o who's uncomfortable with alcohol? I feel like its a bit of an interesting concept with Tony cuz he's had plenty of moments where he's drinking in the mcu

Those are the only two I'll bother you with for now until random thouvhts come to me again<3

Please remember to take breaks, have a bite to eat, drink water, and have a nap when you need it!!!<3<3<3 appreciate you<3<3<3

(*noms you lovingly<3*)

gahhhhhhhhh I am so very sorry that it took me this long to write this (21 days is like three weeks so oopsies) but yes here it is

i did not write the alcohol prompt, i don’t have a lot of experience with alcohol honestly lol

and yeah, you can call me mari!! that’s cute as hell

my mini multiverse of madness…

ADHD Headcannons (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Tony)

word count: 0.6k+

masterlist

Steve

Steve is a patient soul. He is a thinker and a listener first, and it’s only when he’s perfectly worded a response that he decides to speak. Everything that he does, no matter how impulsive it may seem, has had a lot of his thoughts poured into it. And when he hears you ramble, random and excited, it surprises him. And he loves listening to it.

He is so on board for every little thing you’re into. You got super into cars and he started leaving F1 on on the TV until you started watching it and learning all about it. He’d figured you’d like it. And you ramble about it, explain every little rule and detail and decision, and Steve listens carefully, like he has all of the time in the world and nothing he’d rather be doing.

When you move on, he’s unbothered. Next phase it is!

Bucky

Bucky is brooding and quiet. Also a huge literature nerd. When he gets into things, he thinks about them constantly, yet he never shares them with anybody. Then he gets to know you. And damn, it’s so fun!! You ramble and share and tell him about the things you’re into, and he gets invested. You started watching this cop show, and he’s never seen a single episode. But when he gets home from work, he expects a full recap from you, and he’s invested now.

You eventually convince him to share more about the stuff that he’s into, so he compiles a list of a bunch of his favorite books and some things on his to be read and together, you start a two person bookclub.

You get into his books and the two of you go on tangents about what different things mean. It’s his very favorite thing.

Sam

Sam is loud and rambunctious and playful. He shares and he listens already. But he loves it when you get going talking about something. He jokes that there’s little buzzwords that no one knows that get you rambling about something. One time, he mentioned the words “ten dollar” and you got on a rant about Hamilton. He listened very intently, very amused, for about five minutes, and then couldn’t help but chuckle.

He now has a list of buzzwords on the notes app on his phone and you cannot fight me on this.

Sam playfully teases you a bit about this, but he genuinely doesn’t mind, and he knows what you’re sensitive about and is careful to avoid that when he’s gently teasing you about things.

Overall, though, Sam is a very sweet, funny, playful, and endearing guy and he is more than happy to listen to you rant.

Tony

Tony, honestly? He’s the same damn way.

You both just get very talkative randomly and you’re both extremely sarcastic. You both get very intense hyperfixations and it’s all you can think about. It drives everybody else freaking crazy because, while you do handle Tony better than anyone else on the planet, you are also shockingly alike.

One time, Tony had the gall to ask Steve, “is that what I act like?” after you showed them your diorama of the music industry. It made Steve laugh and nod enthusiastically, “yes!” Tony chuckled, and insisted that it was much more endearing coming from you.

When the two of you both got hyper fixated on this one specific robot model though? HOLY HELL.

Fury laughed and said, “if only I could get you two to work like that on half the S.H.I.E.L.D. missions.”

You two are adorable.

taglist@spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

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minami-ff · 2 years ago

Text

I Want My Kids to Have Your Eyes

Levi x Reader (fluff, sfw)

what a bold thing to say to your captain.

Moonlight hung over the hill like a comforting blanket as you both reclined an arm’s length apart on the soft grass beneath, bodies sinking into the earth. The day had been relentless, a gruelling mission that tested every ounce of strength. Now, in the quiet aftermath, you two found solace gazing upward at the summit’s view, shimmering like scattered diamonds against the canvas of the night sky.

The shared stillness remained comfortable, before you posed a soft interruption to the quietude, "Captain, do you ever think about your future?"

Levi's eyes briefly left the constellations above, attention shifting to you. "Yes, it usually ranges from the next second to the next few months. Which area of land outside the walls to explore, how defensive operations should alter for the next month, which day certain intelligen-”

“Captain-” You interrupted, then hesitated, the vulnerability of the topic making your heart race. "I meant a peaceful future, like having a family, kids?"

Levi's brow furrowed slightly. The thought of it was unfamiliar, impossible. "In this war? That’s far-fetched," he remarked, gaze returning to the stars.

A subtle smile grew on your lips as scenarios played at the back of your mind. "I know, of course, but don’t you ever imagine it? A life after the war, a future where Titans are just stories we tell our children." Levi's expression softened, a fleeting hint of wistfulness in his eyes.

"Like sometimes I think if I had children, I’d take them to play by the oceans, make adorable lunch sets," you continued, "how beautiful they would look if they had your eyes…" Embarrassment started flushing up as you realised you rambled on way too far.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, caught completely off guard by your comment.

"WAIT, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean having them with YOU, of course... definitely not…" You trailed off, a splash of pink painfully obvious on your cheeks. Get yourself together y/n, what on earth are you saying to your captain?

“Ouch.” A flicker of disappointment crossed his features. Levi cleared his throat, seemingly caught in the unexpected turn of the conversation. "Well aren’t you very in objection to that idea." he snickered, hiding a trace of sorrow beneath his face.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry, please forget what I said." You apologised in the tense atmosphere.

But Levi didn't dismiss it. Instead, his mind seemingly remained lost in contemplation. "How will your children have my eyes, if they don't have my genetics?" Determined to disprove your faulty reasoning.

You chuckled nervously, "I just mean I hope they’ll be a pretty colour, and delicate shape, like yours."

Levi displayed a rare vulnerability in his expression. He had never given thought to the aesthetic of his eyes; they were simply a part of him, a feature he never considered noteworthy. This was the first time he had received a compliment about them, and it left him momentarily speechless.

"At this rate, my most optimistic guesstimate is that I’ll be slaying titans till I’m 60." You broke the awkwardness joking, "in that case I might not be able to have kids, doubt any man would still take my crinkled self on a date anyway."

"Why not?" Levi replied seriously, his voice a soft echo in the tranquil night. "I won't be even a tiny bit surprised if you're still this beautiful at 85."

A blood-bathed blush adorned your complexion, stomach filling with butterflies and warmth, brain connections zapping around - wondering if he really thought that way, or,

“you’re just saying that.”

Levi sighed, “in all your years of knowing me, when have I ever felt obliged to tell a white lie, Comrade?”

"Right…” You muttered, with all sorts of thoughts doing laps beneath your skull, trying to continue the conversation as level-headed as possible. “Perhaps I'll meet my first love at 99,” a giggle escaping your breath as you joked.

Unexpectedly, Levi's response carried a weight that belied the casual banter. "Well. I think people can be in love without being in a formal relationship. You could easily have your first love now."

Your gaze laid upon his side profile, slightly puzzled by his logic, "but how can you be in love with someone without holding hands, saying mushy things, and all that?"

His head turned towards you, a moment of silence filling the air with eyes drilling into yours, revealing a sincerity that tugged at your heart. "I definitely can."

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ldrfanatic · 1 year ago

Text

promise.

theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis - as you quite literally stumble upon the enigmatic persona of theodore nott, you unintentionally become entangled in the intrigue surrounding him

warnings - mentions of death, domestic violence, cursing, and alcohol consumption

considering a part two to this... I have a few cute ideas in mind.

the next part of thirteen is coming soon I'm like halfway through but in the meantime, here's this.

works slytherin boys

Theodore Nott absolutely hated human interaction. He didn't want to be looked at or spoken too. And he most certainly did not want to be touched. In stark contrast to his best friend Mattheo's loud and boisterous personality, Theodore Nott was quiet. Reserved. He rarely ever spoke to anyone outside of his friend group, and even then he'd been known to simply pretend the rest of the world didn't exist on a whim. Yes, Theodore Nott hated people.

Theo was yanked from his thoughts as a figure slammed into him.

"I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed. The books and parchment in your arms had gone flying as you collided with someone else in the halls. When you were met with silence, you looked up and suddenly, Theo lost his train of thought. You'd ran into Theodore. The slytherin boy looked at you with a rather intense stare, but he didn't say anything.

He just stared.

Awkwardly.

Theodore stared at you as you rambled out apologies and phrase after phrase of complete nonsense. It was actually kind of cute. And it was the first time that someone had taken the time to talk to him properly since he'd been at hogwarts. Even teachers had given up on trying to engage him in conversation.

"There's a party tonight at Slytherin house. Be there." You stood gaping at Theo with your mouth slightly open. He figured you were fairly shocked at having heard him speak considering how scarcely he allowed words to fall from his lips.

Internally, Theodore grimaced at his own words. Years and years of barely speaking to anyone had obviously done nothing for his social skills. He racked his brain as he tried to recall his time in primary school so as to remember how to properly communicate.

"I mean, you can come. I-If you'd like that is." Once again Theo cringed as he tripped over his own tongue. It felt unnatural to stutter. He'd never stammered over his words like that. But there was something about that unhinged his soul. He hadn't quite figured out if he enjoyed it or not but this party was the perfect excuse to get closer to you while he studied the affects you have on him.

"I'll be there." You offered him a smile that made his heartbreat thrum in his ears.

“Promise?”

The word tumbled out of him before he could stop himself. He watched as your brows furrowed curiously. After all, it was quite an odd thing to make someone promise. But you didn’t question it.

“I promise.”

Your words meant everything to him. Theo closed his eyes in a manic attempt to calm his thoughts, and when he opened them, you were gone. Odd. Perhaps he'd imagined the whole thing.

Or perhaps not.

In fact, as he looked at over by the snack table casually conversing with Pansy Parkinson, Theo was certain he hadn't imagined the interaction. Even more so when you turned and smiled at him apparently feeling his gaze on you.

He watched as Pansy muttered something to you that had you looking curiously over at him. You pointed at him and cocked your head slightly sideways (an adorable action that made Theo's heart beat too fast). Just as quickly as you'd done it, you shrugged at Pansy and took a sip of the juice in your hand.

For the second time that day, Theodore was jarred from his thoughts.

Mattheo's hand knocked onto Theo's shoulder.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

When Theo turned to look at the boy, he wasn't surprised to see that he was intoxicated. Mattheo often found solace in drugs and alcohol, something Theo didn't quite understand. No. He preferred to be calm and in control.

Mattheo carried on, not expecting Theo to respond.

"So who's the girl?"

Theo flashed Mattheo a feigned confused look that he knew Mattheo saw right through.

"Oh don't give me that bullshit. You know the girl that you're staring holes into?"

When his friend continued to ignore him, Mattheo pulled back so he was standing up mostly straight and set his beer down on the table in front of the couch with a rather loud thunk.

"Fine. If you have no interest in her then surely you won't mind if I make her my next conquest. She is quite pretty."

Mattheo didn't make it two steps before Theodore was harshly shoving him aside until his bum found the couch. "Stay away."

The dark haired boy smirked up at him. It was pretty clear that Theo had some sort of feelings for you well beyond what he normally thought of pretty much anyone else.

In their own little world, the two hadn't noticed you and Pansy approaching them. Pansy looked on with a knowing look as you flocked to Theo worriedly.

"Are you alright Theodore?"

When Theo turned to look at you, he felt his rage dissipate. He also fell silent again. For the first time in his life, Theo was unable to speak not because he didn't want to, but because he just didn't know what to say. He fished for sentences in his brain or words of any kind really and yet he came up empty.

Afraid that he'd make a fool of himself again, Theo turned swiftly on his heel and removed himself from the situation.

As you watched Theo leave, you found yourself wildly confused. What the fuck just happened? Sure, Theo was known for just getting up and leaving conversations. But he'd stood there looking at you and even opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Then he just left.

"No hard feelings, Y/n. Theo doesn't like people."

You tried to force yourself to believe Pansy's words. Theo was fine, he just didn't like people. Everyone knew that. But the look that Mattheo exchanged with Theo before he left itched at you in a way that made you feel as though there was something deeper going on there that you weren't privy to.

It turns out, Theo's behavior bothered you enough for you to break one of your cardinal rules: never involve yourself with Mattheo Riddle & Co. You'd had this ingrained in your mind since you started hogwarts. There were only ever two exceptions. One, for Pansy Parkinson who it turned out really spent more time with the Greengrass sisters than Mattheo and his posse. And two, for Theodore Nott whom you'd had a schoolgirl crush on since third year. He was simply too handsome to ignore. And though you'd never really had more than exactly one ten second conversation with him right after you'd damn near toppled him over, you felt concern for him after the incident in the Slytherin party the other night.

Hence why you were standing in front of a grinning Mattheo Riddle at breakfast one morning.

"Where's Theodore?"

Mattheo sucked a breath in through his teeth and looked at you with mischievous eyes.

"Sorry darling. Can't betray one of my best mates, can I?"

"I'm worried about him."

"Then go find him."

You rolled your eyes. You should've known conversing with the likes of Riddle was going to be a waste of your time.

"If I knew where to find him, do you really think I'd be slumming it with you right now? I just want to check on him."

Mattheo looked up at you from his seat with false offense.

"Slumming it? I will have you know that my company is desired by many. And if you're really that desperate to find him, what do you say you and I go get ourselves a broom closet? I'm sure he'd be more than willing to crash our party."

Your eyebrows furrowed as the hidden meaning of Mattheo's words flew clear over your head.

"As if. Enough of your games, Riddle. Draco!"

The platinum haired boy jumped when you barked out his name. He squeaked out a 'yes' in return. You really could be quite intimidating when you wanted to be.

"Where the hell is Theodore?"

"Last I saw him he was out in the gardens."

You swung your bag over your shoulder, watching on in amusement while Mattheo delivered a rapid thump to the back of Draco's head. The boys began to squabble, but you didn't stay to watch, instead taking off towards the gardens.

When you got there, Theo was pacing back in forth in front of the Gardenias. The sound of your approaching footsteps startled him and he whipped around to see who'd followed him out here. As his eyes fell on your figure, he noticeably relaxed.

"Theodore, are you alright?" You repeated your words from last night. Theo's chest heaved as he took a rather deep breath.

"Gardenias were her favorite flower."

You stared on in confusion before it hit you. "Your mother."

You remembered hearing your parents talk about the death of Isabella Nott when you were around 8 or 9 years old. Cantankerous Nott was a prominent figure in the Ministry of Magic, so the death of his wife spread like wildfire amongst the wizarding world.

"When I want to talk to her, I come out here. Being near Gardenias makes me feel... closer to her. I know it's silly."

"It's not silly Theo." This was the most that anyone had ever heard Theo speak. There was no way you were going to let him recluse out of unnecessary embarrassment.

"When I was a boy, my father used to hit my mother. I- I couldn't understand why. She was kind, loving, beautiful. Everything a foul man like him could've hoped for. It frustrated me that I couldn't do anything to help her."

He took a deep breath and tears welled up in his eyes. His gaze had found it's way back to the Gardenias and he focused on them as he continued.

"Then one day, I came home from primary school and they were fighting. My father was the angriest I'd ever seen him. My mother told me to go upstairs to my room. But I didn’t want to leave her so I hid behind the stairs, peeking through the bars. I was worried for her. Then as I watched, my father beat my mother to death. It's why I can see the Thestrals. It's... also why I don't speak. I prefer to be in my mind, where I can be with my memories of her."

Though you couldn't exactly relate to Theodore, your heart ached for him. To have watched his mother die at such a young age, and at the hands of his own father in such a brutal way. It's understandable the impact that it had on him.

“That’s understandable.”

Theo turned to face you, face flushed and chest heaving as though he’d just run a mile.

“It’s more than that though. If you stay away from people, you can’t get attached. If you don’t get attached…”

He trailed off but you could piece together what he was getting at fairly easily.

“You don’t have to worry about getting hurt.”

Theo nodded, chestnut curls blowing gently as a breeze passed through. Your hand made itself busy toying with the leaves of a nearby bush. The deep tones of Theo’s voice echoed as he spoke again.

“It’s different with you. I tried like hell not to get attached. But I can’t help it but want to be close to you. Because you’re so kind. Because you don’t push me to speak, instead you fill the silence with your own beautiful voice. Because for the first time since her death, being present, with you, brings me more happiness than being in my memories with her.”

Theo motioned frantically with his hands as he spoke. It was odd to see a boy usually so stoic be overcome with emotions in this way. When he turned to face the Gardenia bushes again, you came to stand beside him. With gentle hands, you ran your fingers over the white petals of the Gardenias.

“You know I remember reading something once in a muggle book about flowers. Muggles are so silly, aren’t they?”

When Theo turned to you with a questioning look, you took that as your cue to continue.

“They see things they don’t understand. They label them as ‘miracles’ and then come up with these ridiculous folktales and stories just so they don’t have to face the discomfort of not knowing. It must be maddening to them, not knowing.

“Not knowing about where they came from. Or what comes after when they… pass. So instead they label everything, instead of marveling in the beauty and the realness of simply not knowing.”

The boy at your side had completely torn his attention from the ivory flowers and fixed his gaze on you. His eyes seemed to hold and unspoken question, are you going anywhere with this?

“They have a belief about Gardenias. Ancient tales speak of gods and goddesses who transformed Gardenias into sacred tokens, giving them magical properties, which I found to be most intriguing considering that nowadays the majority of muggles don’t believe in magic at all.

“One thing I did find particularly interesting. The muggles believe that Gardenias signify an untold love. They are also given to convey “you're lovely”. Because of this, the gardenia is a flower that they give to lovers, friends, and even family. It's a way of telling them how lovely they are.”

You grasped his hand in his.

“Theo I think remembering your mother through Gardenias is a lovely way to do so. I think she would’ve liked that. And I believe that whatever happens to us when we die, your mother uses all of her strength to tell you through every Gardenia on Earth how much she loves you.”

With your kind words, the dam that seemed to be holding in Theo’s emotions for the last 7 years, shattered. Hits tears streamed down his face and he all but launched himself into your arms. He cried, sobbed actually, and clutched your figure closely to his.

When he finally calmed, his rough hand made its way back into yours. He sniffled softly for a few minutes and the pair of you watched the Gardenias together for a little while.

Finally, after he’d regained control, Theo plucked a Gardenia from the bushes and brought out his wand. He muttered a few spells softly which you recognized as preservation spells. Then, to your surprise, he held the flower out to you with two simple words.

“You’re lovely.”

“Promise?”

You teased him lightly, returning the words he’d spoken to you yesterday afternoon.

Theo fought his own grin at the way your lips turned up. He did have a reputation to uphold and he couldn’t very well do that if he was caught grinning at you.

“Promise.”

Oh to hell with Theodore Nott’s bloody reputation. In the week following your stolen moments in the garden, you and Theodore Nott began courting. When the rest of Hogwarts got wind after a Hufflepuff saw him kiss you outside of the Herbology greenhouse, the student body descended into chaos.

Still, the chatters died down within the day following. In fact, most of your fellow students seemed to think that the whisperings surrounding a relationship between yourself and Theo were simply rumors.

‘She spends a lot of time with the Slytherins.’ One student whispered in the back of Potions.

‘So? She’s friends with Pansy Parkinson, isn’t that her lot as well.’ Another student whispered back.

And since neither you nor Theodore were particularly large gossips, not one of the pair of you said anything to confirm or deny the rumors. Which only fueled more into the leading theory, that the Hufflepuff who saw you kiss was simply imagining it.

Of course, you, Theodore, and the rest of Mattheo & Co. knew differently but that didn’t really bother either of you.

So Theodore continued his life in peace. Knowing that he had the most beautiful girl in the castle in his arms every night, and his reputation for being the most emotionless son a bitch in Hogwarts was still in tact. Theodore Nott had found happiness for once.

Or he was happy.

That is until he saw that bloody Ravenclaw Anthony Goldstein chatting you up by the juice at the evening’s Slytherin House Party.

All week Theo had successfully maintained his carefree and cold hearted front. Yet watching the stupid blonde chat you up while you constantly waved him away made his blood boil. It was more than simple jealousy. It was disrespectful enough to dally around with another man’s girl. But to continue to harass the poor girl when she’d clearly asked you to leave was just in poor character. And for Goldstein to think he could get away with pursuing Theodore’s girl at all was ridiculous and frankly insulting.

So, employing a trick as old as time itself, Theodore stood from his seat next to Draco and just walked away. Whatever the platinum blonde was saying to him was cut off. He looked around at the others around him, motioning to Theo’s retreating figure.

“What are gonna do with him?”

But Theo ignored him. If he didn’t want to entertain Draco’s nonsense any longer, it was his given right to walk away. He had legs, after all.

Legs which were currently making short time towards where his beautiful girlfriend stood in a black cocktail dress. As soon as he was in arms reach, Theo pulled her soft figure into his own, closer and closer until he could smell the perfume on her. It was like having his own little Amortentia when he was around you. As usual, the feeling of your soft skin against his was calming.

It should have been calming.

It would have been calming.

If that idiot blonde hadn’t rudely interrupted Theodore’s plan to remove his personal heaven from the situation by walking the pair of you away from fucking Anthony Goldstein.

“Wait! I was trying to give her an invitation for the party Ravenclaw is having next week.”

Theo stopped and turned, desperately trying to reel in his anger for your sake.

“Sorry she has awful memory.”

The edges of Theo’s mouth ticked up slightly as a giggle broke from your lips behind him. He fought the urge to smile at the sound of your laughter.

“That’s alright I can just tell you, mate.”

This kid was either absolutely stupid or had a death wish. Clearly, you weren’t interested. Clearly, you were already well taken care of.

“No need, mate.” Theo spit out the word in a tone drastically unlike the cheerful one that Goldstein had used. They most certainly were not mates.

“Oh come on, Nott. It can’t hurt.”

Finally Theo’s resolve snapped. He released your hand from his own, faintly aware of your hand grasping the back of his shirt as he stepped closer to the boy in front of him.

“Might hurt.” The words concealed a thinly veiled threat. One that Anthony Goldstein apparently picked up on.

His face blanched and his features twisted. He returned the Slytherins glare with a less effective one of his own.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

A beat of tense silence passed between the pair, interrupted by you.

“Oh—kay. Let’s all calm down. We’re all… acquaintances?”

Even calling the two boys acquaintances was a major stretch. But before Theo could satisfy the growing need to slam his fist into Anthony’s face repeatedly, the Ravenclaw scoffed out a ‘whatever’ and stalked away.

“Theo…”

Your soft lips dragged out the syllables of Theo’s name but he was still feeling the after effects of his jealousy. He couldn’t believe that stupid fucker had the nerve to challenge him for a girl that was already his. No more of that.

Theo gently took your small wrist in his hand. He led you to the top of the stone stairs that let to the Slytherin Dorms. As you passed, heads turned. And by the time you made it to the top of the grand staircase, every pair of eyes in the party had focused on the two of you.

And in front of all of them, Theo kissed you. Fiercely.

The party was silenced in shock. Even the music had stopped. A few students whispered between themselves. Theo’s friends were exchanging grins and knowing looks.

Theo finally felt at peace as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“Promise.”

---

wc 3.4k

04.21.24

theodore taglist

@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader

626 notes · View notes

annicht · 1 year ago

Text

intimacy limbo

Miya Atsumu x MSBY PR manager! reader

Warnings: nsfw, suggestive convo, dirty talk, drunk atsumu, drunk call, nothing very explicit though

word count: 1106

@ anni says: I'm a sucker for this dynamic, probably will write more, let me know if y'all liked 🤲

“hello?”

you pick up the annoying phone buzzing under your pillow without sparing much time to check the name on the screen, assuming it's an emergency, since nobody would sanely call another person in the middle of the night if it wasn't important, right?

… wrong

“did I wake you up?“ — the voice on the other side said and you wondered if he was joking

you sat on the bed, looking to the clock on the bedstand

“it's 2am, Atsumu. Why are you calling?”

you asked in a deep hoarse sleepy voice, your forehead frowning while your brain tried to make the sinapses of why Atsumu Miya would call his PR Manager at such hour.

all the answers sounded terrible

“fuck, don't tell me you're screwing a married actress again? or you fought someone at a party? it's fucking friday Atsumu you're gonna make me work on the weekend again—”

“God, your voice is so hot when you wake up…”

he interrupted my rambling with his own and immediately I realize he might be drunk.

“where are you?” — I asked, a little more soothing now

“uhhh… home?”

“since when?”

“since… ten minutes ago”

“where were you?”

“i— at a pub? with Bokkun and some others”

“why are you calling?”

the line went quiet, I can feel the hesitation lingering, but I don't push it, just hearing his deep breathing for some long seconds

“i— wanted to hear your voice… you…”

he stops suddenly, and I let him be, laying back down on my bed, keeping the phone on my ear, looking at the ceiling

“are you drunk?”

“no. maybe? a little. but not much” — enough to call me in the middle of the night, I think to myself. but also don't comment on it

I stay quiet on the line for a few seconds, enough for him to protest.

“hey”

“hm?”

“talk to me”

he say, a demanding tone, and I can't help but snort.

“what do you want to talk about, Miya?”

“when was the last time you fucked somebody”

my breath hitched in a silent surprise, not expecting this question

“what the fuck, Atsumu—”

“answer me”

I stop on my track, narrowing my eyes and shaking my head, trying to remember when was the last time I—

“that'd be… three months ago? on a blind date”

“did you cum?”

my eyebrow raise on an impossible force, but I can't bring myself to be uncomfortable with his questions. a sick dynamic that blossomed after the Olympic games, when I cleaned up all of his messes

“I didn't”

“And when was the last time?”

I narrow my eyes, not quite catching

“Last time…?”

“That you came?”

“uhm… Last night? I mean, I don't need a man to cum, do I…?”

He hissed on the phone, that was the only answer I didn't antecipated.

“Atsumu, are you getting off from my voice?”

I ask bluntly, expecting an equal blunt answer. And how was my surprise when I didn't get one

“I— no, I don't… I just… that's not…”

“You're such a slut"

this time he graced me with a whimper from the back of his throat,

and somehow, in a sick way, I was starting to like

“… you drive me crazy, you know that?”

he said, his voice clearly deeper, darker

“how do I drive you crazy, Miya?”

“don't… dont call me that... not now”

“i’ll call you whatever I want, Miya”

he hiss again, and I almost chuckle. but I hold back, just asking

“what was that?”

silence on the other way, I hear him sighing, and I mend, testing the waters

“Atsumu?”

“Yes!”

he say immediately and exhasperated, and I smile

“you like how I say your name?”

“I… very much”

“what if I moaned your name?”

“… ah… fuck… don't say shit like that…”

“Okay, I won't…”

“But please do”

this time I can't hold back, I crack a laugh on the phone

“Miya, there's only so much mixed signals someone can handle”

“You speak like you'd let me fuck you even if I beg”

“We can't, Miya”

he sigh deep on the other side, I can hear the frustration in his voice

“I'll send my nudes to a sports journalist and create the biggest PR scandal MSBY has ever seen”

he say in a petty act and I crack another laugh, knowing he doesn't actually would do something of such magnitude. not purposefully, at least.

“You know that would only obligate us to stay in the same meeting room for long hours until I fix it, don't you?”

he sigh, frustrated again, on the other side of the line, and I hear muffled sounds of something soft, probably him shifting on his bed

but the silence linger again, and before he can protest, I break it

“You should go to sleep, you have practice tomorrow”

“… can't. ‘m hard.” — he say and I snort, biting my tongue to not ask for proof

“take a cold shower, masturbate, dunno. go to sleep, Miya”

I hear him sighigh frustrated again, another set of shuffling noises

“okay, I'll go”

he say and part of me feel bad, not wanting to end the call, used to this sick twisted intimacy that I cultivated myself

“You go, and don't get late for practice tomorrow. G’night”

“night”

his answer is dry, and before he (or I) can hesitate or say anything else, I press the red button, putting my phone down on the bed.

I sigh, throwing my arms on my face, knowing I'm in the wrong for indulging Atsumu antics,

but this dynamic, once settled, it's impossible to go back. The rush of dopamine is too delicious, making both of us stuck in a middle term limbo of attraction and curiosity, leading to a twisted intimacy.

after tossing and turning on the bed for a while, in a failed attempt to go back to sleep, I decide to take back my phone, seeking some brain distraction

and I see a lost text from Atsumu

i knew opening his message would only make things worse for me. But I do it either way. And the sight makes my mouth water.

“fucking hell” I think to myself, grumbling while opening the bedstand drawer where my toys are, preparing for a couple more hours of perturbation

#miya atsumu x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu msby #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu

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juicedaloe · 2 years ago

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Mithrun and brain damage

I'm not sure if anyone is interested in this, but I wanted to make a post talking about why I think that Mithrun has brain damage from a traumatic brain injury instead of him being a representation of other neurological disorders or mental illness. I'm not that involved in the dunmesh fandom so I don't know how common this headcanon is, though I've seen a few people mention it here and there.

This is just my own opinion so if you disagree then that's fine. Some of this is just speculation and I can't say what Kui's intentions were. This post isn't meant to be that serious. I just wanted to talk about it and hopefully inform about how brain damage can affect some people in a way that I hope is interesting and relevant.

This will be kind of long because I like to talk so it will be under the cut. Apologies for the length and how much I ramble. Feel free to give input especially if I got anything wrong or if this is too confusing.

Okay let's go

Traumatic brain injury (TBI) is incredibly complex. The long-term effects of a TBI include a wide array of symptoms. Each injury is different, and some people can completely recover rather quickly while others can become permanently disabled, even for seemingly "minor" injuries. What I'll cover here isn't a definitive representation of the experiences of all those who have long-term effects from TBI, nor do I speak for everyone with brain damage.

Here are some long term symptoms relevant to this post:

Alexithymia (inability to process and name emotions)

Inability to process and name physical perceptions

Mood swings and emotional regulation difficulties

Communication difficulties

Social impairment

Apathy about caring for oneself

Lack of motivation

Alexithymia and inability to process physical perceptions

This one is rather obvious. While Mithrun is shown to feel emotions and have physical sensations (for instance, describing his location when he gets lost in the dungeon as "a cold place"), he is also apathetic to how this affects him. This means that his physical and emotional perceptions are reduced in some way. He says that becoming lord of the dungeon will leave someone "empty", showing he is aware of his dulled emotional state.

A good example of this is can be seen here in a bonus comic where he doesn't give much of a reaction to burning his mouth on hot food.

(I love these two a lot, by the way. Pattadol is really under appreciated.)

He is also not able to recognize bodily signals, such as hunger or when he is tired. Despite collapsing from exhaustion and not eating for long periods of time, he still insists he is not tired or hungry.

Mood swings

Mood swings in combination with alexithymia can be an especially disorientating experience. Those who struggle to perceive their own emotions can still feel them even if they don't know how to recognize it.

Individuals with brain injuries often experience drastic mood swings, particularly anger. To those around them, they can appear to go from 0 to 100 in an instant.

This is more speculation/headcanon on my part, as the strongest emotion Mithrun has for most of his appearances is anger. However one could interpret this as being unrelated as he is seeking revenge for a traumatic experience.

Communication difficulties and social impairment

Not only can naming personal experiences be incredibly difficult with a brain injury, but other areas of communication are often affected as well.

Mithrun is not able to set boundaries for himself even if someone is doing something he would not actually want them to do, which can leave him in a vulnerable position.

People with brain injuries can sometimes have a paradoxical experience when it comes to communicating with others. They can go from being very quiet to speaking at length about one topic, seemingly without regard for the importance of each bit of information. (I see it like Newton's first law of motion. It is hard to start speaking and it can be just as hard to stop.)

I really like this aspect of Mithrun's characterization. Usually, he is very quiet because he has no reason to speak. However, once he starts talking he is shown to be overly specific and goes on for long periods of time. Kabru has to spend multiple days figuring out his story.

In a side comic, Kabru tells Mithrun he should condense some of the personal details that Kabru finds irrelevant to the topic of the dungeon.

Mithrun shares many details about himself because his desire not to do so is gone. This mirrors the experience of many people who have brain damage to overshare and not understand how their words will come across to others. Sometimes they say or do things that are insensitive or inappropriate for the situation.

Caring for oneself and motivation

In the dungeon, Mithrun becomes reliant on others for self care. He also seems especially incapable of motivating himself to take care of his body when he is particularly focused on his goals.

In these panels, thus far he had been fairly receptive of Kabru trying to take care of him. However, he could sense that the demon was close and was too focused on that to care to eat.

Refusal of care and treatment is often an effect of traumatic brain injury. This can be for seemingly no reason, even if the person knows that this will help them. Sometimes people will lie about receiving treatment or doing things to take care of themselves, either so they can avoid it or avoid having someone take care of them.

He knows that eating regularly and not pushing himself too much will help him - he's been told multiple times on-screen - but he still has to be continuously told by others to give him that motivation to take care of himself. He's very apathetic to his physical state, even if it seems his only desire is for revenge and he should be doing anything he can to achieve that.

Other things of note

I wasn't sure where to put this, but while Mithrun's sense of direction is speculated by Kabru to be left over from his time as lord of an ever-changing, confusing dungeon, having poor sense of direction in the way he does could also be indicative of brain injury as well.

While the dungeon is confusing and illogical, he is known to have a poor sense of direction and to get frequently lost by those around him, even trying to exit an entrance he just came through. He is shown to be very intelligent, but memory is greatly impacted by brain injuries which affects a person's sense of direction and location.

Something that really stands out to me about Mithrun is how much the things that help him are particularly helpful to those with brain damage. He is physically capable of performing tasks, but he needs an outside source to remind him and get him started. He relies entirely on routine, and when that regularity is taken away he shows extreme difficulty taking care of himself.

Sometimes, the care that some people need is simply someone else to encourage them or to tell them when to do things. The care that he needs is pretty consistent with a person with a brain injury who does not need a full time caretaker and would prefer to have some independence.

Also, healing magic is specified to not work with brain injury unless the person is killed and revived. Mithrun had not been revived after his injuries, so it is entirely possible for him to have sustained a TBI. I don't think this matters that much because one is still allowed to have headcanons even if there is a magical explanation or isn't really possible in canon, but I thought it was an interesting detail.

In conclusion

Because of all this I don't believe that his lack of self care is due solely to mental illness. While mental illnesses like depression or PTSD can cause a decline in self care, the reasons why the affected individual is avoidant of these tasks differs. These disorders can also cause cognitive difficulties and emotional regulation issues, but not to the same extent or in the same way that brain damage would. I think that he does have both depression and PTSD (both are common after a TBI) but those are not his only disabilities.

And on a personal note, I just think that having a character with brain damage is really cool. Most of the time I've seen it the characters are not given very much respect and they are treated as comic relief and a joke. Regardless of whether you agree with this post or not, it is still nice to see a character with a disability like this.

Thank you if you read all of this. I hope it was easy to understand and I did not ramble too much. I don't have anything else to say but I've been wanting to write this out for a while.

Okay bye

#Dungeon Meshi #Mithrun

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eddiethehunted · 2 years ago

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hey y'all here's yet another "i'll probably never finish this" snippet — this one's considerably longer (near 3k words!) so maybe it's okay <3

post-vecna, fwb, idiot4idiot, you know how it is. trans eddie but it’s not really relevant to this piece lol

18+ for sexual themes and also one usage of the f slur

——��———————

Eddie knows he's acting weird—or, weirder than usual—but he can't muster up the energy to care.

He's not really talking, sitting off to the side and kind of just listening in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with anyone, or whatever—it’s that he doesn’t think he can handle hanging out with Steve.

He's successfully avoided Steve all night and he plans on keeping it that way. That is, of course, until Robin, tipsy and warm and happy from the beers she's been crushing all night, gets up and pulls Steve over to the swing chair with them.

Eddie considers fleeing while she’s not sitting on his knee forcing him to stay there, but he’s not quick enough. She flops back down and brings Steve with her, giggling as he stumbles and bitches and complains about it, making the chair swing back and forth and jostle them all together in a way that would normally have Eddie laughing with her.

Instead, all he can do is stare beyond Nancy’s head, rolling his beer between his hands distractedly and wishing the alcohol would hit him even half as hard as it’s hitting Robin. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to fucking bash his head into the wall right now.

He can see Nancy giving him a weird, curious stare, and look, he likes Nancy, really. She’s cool and badass and he’s kind of scared of her, which is awesome. But he’s not about to talk to Steve’s ex about this fucked up friends-with-benefits to maybe-not-even-friends-anymore-and-definitely-without-benefits trainwreck he’s gotten himself into.

Robin sandwiches herself in between them, a sharp elbow digging uncomfortably into Eddie's ribs. Eddie is being absolutely assaulted by Steve's cologne and presence and warmth and he's not okay. His heart feels like it's going to explode and he wants to leave so fucking bad.

Robin starts rambling about graduation and college to Nancy. Eddie tunes out quick, because Steve's arm is flung over the back of the chair and he's rubbing these distracting little circles on Eddie's shoulder, through his shirt. He can feel Steve's eyes burning holes into the side of his face, over Robin's head.

Steve's touch is distracting normally, but even more so now because it's been almost three weeks since Eddie has seen him, and even longer since he's touched him. The last time they were this close, he'd had Steve climbing into his lap, panting and grinding on him and kissing him like he was trying to steal the air out of his lungs. Whispering Eddie’s name like a prayer between breathy little whines as if it fucking meant something.

The painful throbbing in his chest is nearly as bad as the uncomfortable ache between his legs, and he almost forgets that he's trying to distance himself when he feels Steve shift closer. Robin's leaning forward to talk to Nancy, and that leaves plenty of room behind her for Steve's hand to move, to curl into the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck. Plenty of room for Steve to lean into his space and god, Eddie is having a really hard time keeping a grip on his self-control because all he wants to do right now is pull Steve into the bathroom and fucking get on his knees and make it so that he's the only one Steve will ever want.

“Been a while,” Steve says conversationally. Casually. Eddie wants to fucking kick him.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, not willing to give Steve more than that. It earns him a huff, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to see that Steve’s rolling his eyes at him.

His voice is quiet and trickles down Eddie's spine when he says, "You've been avoiding me."

Eddie can't think of a good response, his voice sticking in his throat, his brain full of static. He finally swallows and vaguely says, "You think so?"

Steve's hand squeezes the back of his neck and every single nerve in Eddie's body lights up. Robin is right there. Like, she's half-sitting on Eddie's thigh. This is—its a really bad fucking time for Steve to be touching him.

"Why?" Steve asks him. He sounds hurt, but also a bit angry, and that shouldn't turn Eddie on but it really, really does.

He likes that Steve's hurting. No, really, he does. Because at least it's not just him. (He's never claimed to be a nice fucking person, okay? He knows he's a bit of a selfish asshole, and he's fine with that.)

He's not having this conversation while Robin is sitting on top of both of them, so he jerks away from Steve and gets up, not paying any attention to Robin's indignant shout as he storms into her house. He's been here enough times that he knows the way to the bathroom even with all the lights off, but he doesn't have the chance to shut the door before there's a foot blocking it.

Steve pushes in, looking pissed, and so, so hot. Eddie's knees feel like jelly and his stomach squirms like he's going to be sick. Emotional confrontation is like, the actual fucking worst, and there's Steve, angry and hurt and crowding him against the counter in Robin's bathroom, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His hands are on either side of Eddie's hips and their faces are so close Eddie could count his eyelashes if he tried hard enough. His cheeks are burning, his voice stuck in his throat, and he's annoyed because Steve knows that being pinned like this gets Eddie hot, and that's not fucking fair.

"I'm not," Eddie lies through his teeth. "I've just been busy—"

Steve snorts, cutting him off with a mean laugh. "Yeah, real busy, I bet. Must be hard work pretending I don't fucking exist."

Eddie is like, five seconds away from either punching Steve or kissing him. He hates that this is doing something for him right now, hates how hot Steve is when he's mad.

"Get off of me," he snaps, but it doesn't sound convincing. Steve's gaze drops to his mouth, just for a second, before it flicks back up.

"Did I do something?" he asks desperately, looks at Eddie with those big, dark eyes. Eddie presses his lips together firmly, biting the insides of them, because if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie's gonna let him bend him over this goddamn countertop. Steve seems to take his silence as confirmation, and makes a quiet, sad sound.

"You can tell me, Eddie," he says, a bit softer, like some of the anger has evaporated out of him. "I miss you."

That hurts.

Eddie wants to throw up. "Don't say that to me."

Steve frowns. "Why not? What, I can't miss you? Can't wonder what the fuck I did to piss you off so bad that you won't even look at me?" He backs off, a bit, enough for Eddie to breathe, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "One day you're shoving my dick down your throat and the next you're acting like you hate me. Kinda makes a guy wonder what happened."

"I don't—hate you," Eddie manages, nearly choking on his words because he doesn't want to say them, but the sad, hurt eyes Steve's giving him pull them from out of his chest. "I'm not even—I'm not even fucking mad at you, Steve. I'm not—this is so stupid." He rubs a hand over his face. “I just… I can't keep doing this shit. This—whatever it is.” He gestures vaguely between them. “Hooking up. Whatever."

Steve's shoulders slump forward. He moves back, until they're not touching at all and there's a few feet between them. He sounds exasperated and frustrated when he says, "Okay, so don't! You could've just told me you didn't want to fuck around anymore. I’m not gonna be mad or something. Jesus, Eddie, you can like, talk to me. I give a shit about being friends more than, like, getting some ass or whatever.”

Steve's not getting it, which is maybe for the best, but the distance between them makes Eddie want to pull his hair out. "No, I mean—" He can't help but reach out, tugging Steve a little closer by the loop of his jeans, which makes him flush so pretty. “I don't wanna stop."

"So...don't?" Steve says slowly, warily. One warm hand wraps around Eddie's arm, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. "We can keep... I dunno, doing whatever. Whatever you want. Even just… hanging out. Or watching a movie, or—uh, yeah, whatever.” He swallows, glances down at Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s sure he knows just what Steve’s thinking about.

He can't help but laugh, because he's sure that what he really wants is not within the realm of what Steve is okay with. Sex is fun, but—god, Eddie wants to be allowed to love him. He’s already opened himself up more to Steve than anyone else. Steve already knows things about him that nobody else does, except his uncle. It’d been so easy to fall in love with him.

"That's the thing. I don't think we're on the same page."

Steve looks so confused that it would be funny if Eddie wasn’t on the verge of spilling his guts, of throwing up his heart all over Steve right now.

“I need you to elaborate, man,” Steve says. “‘Cause you’re giving some crazy mixed signals right now.”

“I don’t want to just keep hooking up with you. I know this all started just as fun and it is fun, but it’s driving me crazy,” Eddie lets out a frantic little laugh, feels like he’s going to start hyperventilating, but he’s started now and can’t stop, “I’m so into you it’s insane, Steve. Like, I like you. So fucking much. So much it makes me want to rip my hair out or something. I can’t keep doing this knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you and I can’t keep pretending that the thought of you with someone else doesn’t make me want to die. Okay? I can’t. It—it hurts and it fucking sucks and I can't do it anymore.”

His voice is shaking by the end of it, and he knows by the burning feeling in his eyes and nose that he’s about to start crying. Because this is it—this is what he’s been dreading, all this time: the moment that the other shoe drops, the moment that Steve rejects him. He’s a nice guy, he’ll do it kindly, let Eddie down gently, but that’ll hurt more. Eddie needs Steve to like, punch him in the face and call him a fag, or something. He can’t handle a sweet, gentle, let’s stay friends forever, it’ll all be okay rejection.

Instead of the bright snap of pain he’s hoping for, he feels Steve’s hands slide up the sides of his neck, almost like he does when Eddie’s down on his knees for him. It’s much softer, now, Steve’s thumbs stroking just under his eyes to wipe away the tears that he can’t stop from falling.

It’s too much.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, shaking his head in frantic, jerky movements as his tears just keep coming. He wants to yell at Steve, to tell him to leave and let him lick his wounds in fucking peace, but he can’t make the words come out. All he can do is suck in another sticky, wet breath.

It tears out of his chest as a sob and Steve swears under his breath.

“Hey,” he breathes. He moves Eddie’s hair out of his face gently, tucking it behind his ears. Any traces of anger are gone from his voice now, and it’s soft, quiet, like he's talking to a frightened animal. “Eddie, hey. Shit, I’m sorry. Can you look at me?”

Eddie doesn’t want to, but he’s never been good at saying no to Steve. He forces his eyes open, blinking away the tears that blur Steve’s pretty face.

“If you’re gonna reject me just do it,” he says miserably. His voice feels thick as it comes up his throat. “I can take it, man.”

Actually, he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse to the ground sobbing and maybe even dry heave or throw up the second he’s alone, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

“I’m not—” Steve huffs out a breath, something like a laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Eddie, I’m not rejecting you. I’m—I’m just kind of in shock.”

Eddie stares at Steve with watery eyes. “In shock?” he bites out. “Yeah, dude, that kinda happens when your friend confesses he has big disgusting gay feelings for you.”

“No! Not like—not in a bad way,” Steve clarifies. He has the most adorable pink flush on his cheeks, a frustrated little crease between his brows as he tries to find the words for what he’s so clearly hurting to say. “I’ve been into you for months. I honestly thought you were avoiding me these past few weeks ‘cause you could tell. I’m not, like,” he heaves a sigh, runs a nervous hand through his hair, “good at being subtle, man. I thought you were rejecting me.”

Eddie has no clue what kind of face he’s making right now, but he feels a little bit like he’s floating suddenly. Like he’s just missed the last step at the bottom of a staircase, a heavy, stony pang in his chest, his breath kind of stuck somewhere around his diaphragm. It’s almost like how it felt to flip upside down, weightless, as he climbed through the gate last spring, but only slightly less terrifying.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we hooked up,” Steve admits, and Eddie's mouth falls open, because that was nearly a year ago. “I know we were supposed to be casual, but it… was never casual for me.” His face is a little redder now, but he doesn't break eye contact. It makes Eddie want to squirm. “I shouldn’t have lied and said I didn’t want more. I wanted you. When we—” He swallows and Eddie can't help but glance down to watch the way his throat bobs, wants to sink his teeth into it. "When we’re together, you know, it’s… it’s all I ever think about. Fuck, I think about you all the time. I feel like I'm going insane.” He groans, letting his forehead fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m not doing a great job here.”

Steve thinks about him. Steve fucking wants him. Eddie is literally going to pass out or something.

“No,” he breathes, because this can’t be real, he has to be hallucinating or something, “no, you’re—this is really good. Keep going.”

Steve sighs like he’s frustrated with himself, his breath warm against Eddie’s shirt. “What I’m trying to say is that I like you too, Eddie. A lot. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t, I’m just—kind of not great at this shit.”

Eddie really, really wants to pinch himself, but he can’t fucking move as Steve’s words sink into his bones.

“You like me,” he croaks out. His hands curl into fists in the front of Steve’s shirt. He probably looks a fucking mess right now with tears and maybe snot all over his face but he can’t think about that, not when Steve is so close. “You actually like me? Like, not—not just fucking me?”

“I mean, I do like doing that,” Steve says, lifting his head with a ridiculous grin and eyebrow waggle that makes Eddie feel hot all over. He groans and shoves Steve’s face away half-heartedly, and Steve laughs, turns his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

Eddie just about melts into a puddle on the floor. God, the Steve Harrington charm. Steve’s smile turns a little soft.

“But yeah,” he says, leaning into Eddie’s hand. “I’m kinda crazy about you, man.”

Eddie needs to make sure he's not insane. "Like, you wanna cuddle me and shit? Fuckin’… bake me a cake?”

Oh god, what do people in relationships even do? Is that even what Steve’s gunning for here?

Steve's clearly trying not to laugh. "I mean, I can make you a cake if you want, but I'm not that great at baking. I always put too much flour and it turns out so bad, and this one time I accidentally put salt instead of sugar and Robin still doesn't shut up about it. I can make a pretty solid lasagna, though, if you want—”

"Oh my god," Eddie says, because he's definitely insane, and also because the idea of Steve in the kitchen making him a lasagna like some kind of little housewife is going to make him act fucking stupid, "shut up."

He really does pinch himself, then, and all it does is hurt. Steve’s lips quirk up again, and he steps a little closer, until it would be so easy for Eddie to tilt his head a bit and move in for a kiss. He goes a little cross-eyed trying to keep looking at Steve, trying to make sure this is still real, that this isn’t some Vecna shit and Steve’s about to turn into some kind of fucked up monster and start, like, eating him or something.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Steve asks, grinning so wide Eddie can almost taste it.

“No,” Eddie lies.

“That’s so cute."

Eddie makes a weird, strangled sound, and it’s the most humiliating little noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed about it, though, because Steve moves so their lips are just barely apart.

“Can I kiss you now? I really want to.” Their noses touch. “I know it’s not the first time, but… I wanna kiss you.”

“Like in a gay way?” Eddie blurts, like an idiot.

Steve’s eyes crinkle up a bit when he laughs. “Yeah, dude. In a gay way. I mean, I kinda feel like me licking my jizz out of your mouth that one time was already pretty gay, but yeah. I wanna kiss you for real. If that’s okay.”

#steddie #teehee #posting this then LOGGING OFF BC I AM SCARED OF EVERYONE #desperately craving attention while being so so so scared of you all

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Slasher! Heartslabyul Headcanons

Just a quick ramble hopefully because I saw something by @lustlovehart about serial killer Floyd and Jade and I was like: Jade Leech would make a convincing Hannibal Lector. Then I was like Deuce but Jason Voorhes. Now is the product of my brain rot. Non-Twisted Wonderland setting. Reader is gender neutral unless explicitly stated. Minor characters aged up.

Tw: yandere behavior, medical professional abuse, gore, murder, cannibalism, mentions of murder being recorded, forced cannibalism, verbal abuse, ooc Dylla mentions of some other real nasty shit

17+ CONTENT, DO NOT INERACT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT. IF YOU INSULT MY WORK BECAUSE YOU IGNORED MY WARNING YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! BY CLICKING KEEP READING YOU CONSENT TO READING THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL!

Riddle Rosehearts:

Bros the perfect serial killer I mean he's got it all:

Perfectionist attitude, dedicated to his work, abusive mom. I mean the slasher film practically writes itself.

I'm going with Riddle becoming a doctor like his mother was and being known for being one of the most successful doctors in the city. People are waitlisted trying to visit this "miracle doctor".

By day Riddle is the strict perfectionist who cares deeply for his patients, by night Riddle is meticulously finding and sadistically torturing criminals and "rule breakers" before beheading them. At first, he is seen as a benevolent force for ridding the city of its criminals and scum. However, The Red Queen, as he is called, swings her axe indiscriminately and soon beloved public figures are on the chopping block.

You could meet Riddle a multitude of ways, for this I'll say you are a critically ill patient who is in and out of the hospital. Hearing about the "miracle doctor" lead to you pleading with the red head. Riddle was moved by the "innocence" in your eyes and your desperate tone of voice. You needed him. He agreed and started your treatment.

Riddle grows feelings because of your kind and forgiving nature. You don't hold his strict and commanding behavior against him, only seeing it as him doing his job. Finally, someone worthy of the help of the Red Queen.

The problem came when you came into the office battered and bruised one day. Riddle demanded to know who the perpetrator was, but you kept you lips sealed. Riddle grew angry at your defiance, how dare you defy your queen, your protector. He screams at you, causing you to cry and curl into a helpless ball. Riddle feels guilt at making you feel this way and apologizes before gently encouraging you to tell him who your abuser was.

Riddle felt his rage hit an insurmountable amount when you revealed your abuser was the personal nurse your family hired for you. How dare this insolent peasant lay a finger on your divine form? No matter, Riddle will look through your patient files to find information about this personal nurse. He finds out that this nurse lives with you as a live in nurse, Riddle takes this information in with a sadistic grin.

Time to pay them a visit

You heard a garbled croak as you exited your ensuite bathroom. What could be making such a terrible noise? Cautiously you peeped through the door and crept towards the source of the noise. It was coming from your living room. You pattered over to the living room in bare feet, when a strong odor hit you. Iron. TWACK something slides from the living room to your feet. It was a head, YOUR NURSE'S HEAD! You opened your mouth to scream when a gloved hand silenced you. You stiffened as you hear a familiar voice.

Quiet my patient, you don't want to be framed for murder, do you? They were breaking the rules so I must punish them. The rule being one must never harm the spouse of the Red Queen!

Trey Clover:

Yo can you imagine though?

Your sweet town baker feeding you treats he made with love and your ex-boyfriend's flesh and blood (don't worry you'll only taste it a little). All with loving golden eyes and a knowing smile.

After some time in the big city for college, Trey moved back to his hometown to take over his family bakery. He is immediately accepted by the community at large for his amiable and brotherly aura. In no time at all the bakery becomes popular to people outside of the town as well (particularly cannibals and other shady characters).

People come to the front for sweet treats and are led into the back to become the fresh ingredients. Trey mostly murders people that come from out of town and tourists, people the town folk won't miss. However sometimes he has to make do with the outsiders within the town. Anything to feed his clients and himself.

Let's say that you moved to this small town of Bakersfield (name of town) for a fresh start in life, leaving your toxic family and manipulative ex-boyfriend. You decided leaving the city would allow you to escape your problems (plus there were serial killers loose, you didn't want to be beheaded or killed on tape). You like the idea of being part of a small tight knit community that work as one big family. However, you were disappointed when the community greeted you with a cold shoulder. Already your thought new life was going to be a disaster until you met Trey.

Trey met you when you visited his bakery, he doesn't remember seeing your face around (he wonders what you would taste like). He turns on his customer service smile and greets you kindly. Your glum expression immediately turns into a cheery grin. That's strange he kind of likes making you smile. You order one of his special desserts, which he whips up fresh just for you and your beautiful smile (men have pretty smiles too male readers, if I have any).

You end up coming to the bakery pretty often, not only for the sweets but the charming baker who works the front counter. You're surprised that he's single because you think he's quite handsome and kind. You gotten a tiny crush for the man who serves you pastries with a smile, and gives you back your money claiming your presence is enough. Trey put you in such a good mood that you brought some of the extra sweets for your neighbors and actually started making connections with the town's folk.

Trey saw you becoming more welcome with the townspeople and that left a sour taste in his mouth. He had to bite his lip to the point of bleeding to prevent himself from scowling when you rambled about how nice everyone has been. He was the first person to be nice to you and this is how you treat him? Looks like he'll have to play dirty to get back into your good graces. He may or may not have found the number of your old abusive ex and revealed your location. He knows that its wrong, but he'll make it up to you by being your protector.

Soon enough you'll only depend on him

This man was sick. No person you met could look at you so lovingly while bashing your ex's head in with a crowbar. This psycho killed people and ate them and was forcing you to play a twisted form of house. The chain around your leg reminded you of this fact. Every. Single. Day. "Open up my love, you're losing weight far too much, I can't have you wasting away." You look the devil who called himself your husband in the eyes and glared weakly. "I won't eat anything you make!" Trey laughed callously at your scorn. "It's funny that you think you have a choice." A rough hand grasps your jaw while the other pushes its way inside. You knew better than to bite his fingers, pain was a cruel teacher. The spoon of stew lays in your mouth and the hand holding your jaws puts more pressure on it causing you to whimper.

"If you swallow, you won't have to stay in the cold and lonely basement. Won't that be nice, sweet pea, you'll get to sleep in our nice warm bed. Only if you're a good for me and swallow.

Cater Diamond (longest one by far)

Hoo boy, this dude also is prime slasher material.

We'll keep the backstory of overbearing sisters and constantly moving due to his dad's job. This wore on his psyche harshly and made him more shut off from the rest of his family. Of course, his family only started caring when his grades start to slip. He was diagnosed with depression and ADHD. The medication only helped him get better at faking being happy and carefree all the time. His life allowed for him to become a very good liar and mask emotions very well. When in high school and during his current adult life social media was his one safe place where he could feel happy. Everything was fake and that gave him comfort that others people's lives were probably as miserable as his. He perfected his camera work and putting on a cute face for his audience and became quite a successful instaounce model (haha I made it more American) and influencer. When Cater graduated (barely) he refused to go to college and instead focused on pursuing his dreams of becoming a full-time influencer.

While Cater may seem cute, sociable, and relatable online, he also is jealous, vindictive, and murderous offline. He sees other people who are pretty and popular as a threat to his online presence, and threats must be eradicated. Enter his other pastime on the internet, streaming himself torturing and killing popular people on social media for an eager and sadistic audience. He goes by the username Killer_Diamond 💎💎♦️ and has millions globally bid to see who's suggested method of torture will be expertly carried out by Cater's creepily cheerful persona.

For this we'll say you're the cute new barista at an aesthetically pleasing cafe Cater frequents for coffee pics. You greet Cater with the same positive energy he exudes. He orders a very complicated coffee, and you create the coffee right the first time. No one in all the time he's been here has gotten his order to his high standards. Why are you so special? It almost makes him frown how flawlessly you completed his order, but your genuine smile makes the sides of his fake grin wobble. How could you so openly and freely be happy?

Let's say that you were adventurous and decided to peruse the dark web for some spooky content to sate your curiosity. When you stumble into a red room by accident. What you saw horrified you a person who you recognize as some model your friend gushes about being hot was being tortured as the live chat was filled with other horrific suggestions as what else to do to her. You felt bile come into your mouth as you saw the person in a bunny mask rip the model's eye out, causing her to scream loudly. The bunny mask turns back to the camera and chirps "Ooh a new person tuned in, say hello to them." You slam your laptop shut and lay awake in bed all night.

Cater felt like he had a new pep in his step, humming to himself a popular song he made his way to the cafe. Murdering always cleared his head and helped him destress, much more affordable than therapy. He greets you with a genuine zeal to see you, poor thing with large eyebags and a shell-shocked expression. He didn't like seeing you so disturbed. He asked you what was wrong, only for you to fake a cheery expression and ask him for his order. Cater knew you didn't trust him, so he'd have to befriend you if he wanted you to speak. Perhaps even kill the person who made you so upset.

Wait kill? Why did he care what happened to the person who upset you?

Cater offers you to sit and have a coffee with him, you try to explain that you're still on shift but Cater doesn't hear it and sits down beside you. Cater knows how to keep a conversation going and knows just the right things to say to make you more trusting of his intentions. He's a bit irritated that you still won't tell him why you're upset, but no worries he'll get you to open up.

You were losing sleep over the murder you saw take place. It had been weeks ago, but you still could see that eye on the tip of that knife. Should you call the police? No, the murderer might be able to trace it back to you. What on Earth are you going to do? Your phone pings notifying you that Cater or Cay-Cay as he prefers you to call him was messaging you.

Hey babe<3

Found this cute little hole in the wall sushi place, thought it'd be good for you to come and eat some food with Cay-Cay😘💕

Well, you'd always have Cater.

On my way Cay!

Cater has never felt love before. His family meant nothing to him, and he would never reach out to a fan in distress. However, you were perfect, so sweet and friendly. He felt like he could hide his murder stream from you and just pretend to be your normal loving boyfriend. He felt a blush come to his face at the thought of you being officially his partner. You'd take so many cute couple photos! However, you were too cute for your own good, attracting boys, girls, and others by being your sweet little self. It's not fair that you're so charming that other people want you! THIS WILL NOT STAND! Cater ramps up the murders and even ignores his chat pleading for him to drag them out longer. He just needs you to see that he's your perfect match, even if he must kill the ones, you love and isolate you.

No matter what happens Cater will have a place in your heart. Even if he gets that place by killing.

You were terrified, one night of drinking away your sorrows and now you woke up to total darkness. You tried to feel you way out, but your hands were bound behind your back. Oh god you've been kidnapped! You were going to die! A blinding light turns on revealing a luxurious room with red walls. Oh, seven this was the red room you saw! The person with the rabbit mask walks to the camera which was pointed at you. "Hello again my lovely viewers today I have a very special guest, my lovely!" You shake as tears fill your eyes; you try to scream but the tape covering your mouth prevents you. "Ah, ah, dear, wait till we get home to let out those pretty screams. My audience is not allowed to hear them." Another spotlight lands on a terrified friend of yours who you remember vanished a few days ago. They looked to be in rough shape. The rabbit figure bounced on their heels and walks very close to you with his back to the camera. "Before we start, I'd like to give my co-star a quick kiss for good luck. The figure takes the mask off and you gasp at the familiar face of you friend Cater.

"I know it's not the real thing, but I'll kiss you right on the tape. Oh, don't cry darling you'll have all of Cay-Cay later tonight. For now, we have an audience to entertain!

Deuce Spade:

Bro's literally just Jason Vorhees and Bubba Sawyer I mean come on, a puppy dog like killer who listens to the dead voice of his mother and you only.

Let's say Deuce was raised alone with his mother in the woods, his mother only leaving him to go gather supplies in the town. His mother had to raise him on her own and instilled in him a fear and hatred towards outsiders. Due to his mother raising him by herself and him never attending school, he isn't very educated and had delayed speech. His mother died when he was ten making him officially go crazy and hallucinate his mom still being with him. He's a hermit who lives off the woods and kills anyone who steps foot on his property.

You were a case worker who found a case of a woman who "abandoned" her child in the woods. Weird it's been swept under the rug for twelve or so years. Well, you weren't one to heed the warning of other case workers who begged you not to go. You weren't going to let some child continue to be neglected.

Deuce was going through the motions of his routine. Waking up, dressing, putting on his mask, kill something for breakfast, cook it, and he was currently repairing the small cabin. His mother had gone silent for some time, and it was worrying Deuce. Did his mother abandon him? A loud noise shakes Deuce out of his thoughts, as a terrifying metal monster approaches the house. Mother what do I do?

You drive your car through the woods towards the address on the file. Weird there's no official road up to the house nor any signs signifying that you are going in the right direction. Suddenly an item came hurtling towards your wind shield causing you to scream in terror. Holy shit is that an axe?! You hear a figure thunder up towards you and you scream in terror. A lanky blue haired man with a hockey mask covered in blood grabs the axe from the windshield and raises it above your head. You are prepared to ram the car into his body until he freezes.

Deuce what are you doing? A familiar feminine voice reproaches in his ear. His mother didn't want him to kill the trespasser? Mother I'm getting rid of the trespasser, like you've taught me. A ghostlike pinch formed on his cheek. Why would you try and kill your spouse that I handpicked just for you? After I put all that effort in Deucy you're still so ungrateful! Deuce grunts as he puts a hand up to his masked cheek. No mother I am grateful...they're actually quite attractive. Then stop wasting time and grab them before they drive away!

You scream as a hand breaks through your window and tries to pull you out of your car. You frantically swat at the hand that pulls you out of the driver's seat and places you over his shoulder. You kick and scream as he walks back to the cabin with you in tow, it was insulting how easy he managed to pick you up (Deuce is super strong in this, so fat readers you weigh nothing to him). You didn't want to die before finding the kid. "Hey, let me go, I need to find this kid named Deuce Spade!" The hulking figure freezes.

You are now being held off the ground and, in his arms, (if you're tall your feet are dragging) looking you dead in the eye. You try to maintain calm but who the hell would maintain calm when this muscular hermit is mouth breathing directly on you. The figure takes his mask off to reveal a handsome yet scared face of a man with blue hair, that looked a little too familiar. "Mother was right, you really are made for me." You open your mouth to protest when a pair of rough lips make contact with yours. You pound his firm chest with your fist, to no avail. The man pulls back to look at you with lovesick eyes and a heavily flushed face. "I'm Deuce Spade and mother said you are mine. How wonderful it is to have someone else in the family now!" Oh, geez what have you gotten yourself into.

Ace Trappola:

I heavily dislike Ace, like he rubbed me off the wrong way when we first met him in the game. I know everyone is supposed to be a villain but for someone who's one of our best friends he likes to insult us a little too much (more than the actual ex-bully). I'll try to do my best besides the biased (there are others who I didn't like on first meeting but grew to like).

Ace Trappola and you are childhood friends to your families. To you he's been a monster hell bent on torturing you till the day you die. He'll play the sweet golden boy next door to your parents, asking politely if you're home. Your parents sacrifice you to the demon in front of you to "play". They always blame you for the scratches and bruises you have after the "play date". He always gives you the same sadistic grin when others aren't watching.

Ace is a messed-up boy who wants to make you scared of him. He thinks it's funny when you cry in pain as he tugs your hair or punches you in the face. You're so much weaker than him and that gives him a high like no other. When puberty hit however, you grew much taller and stronger than Ace and wouldn't be pushed around anymore. When he brought a knife to school to scare you, you beat him to a bloody pulp. Something changed in him when you stood over him, once docile eyes filled with rage. It was kinda hot not gonna lie.

Ace goes from the bully to a psycho who stalks you constantly. You must have hit him too hard because instead of wanting to hurt you, he's hurting others who try and be around you. You think he's disgusting every time he groans when you hit him to get him to stop following you. Ace gets taken away to a psyche ward after the Senior Prom massacre. Let's say he didn't take to kindly to you asking someone out to the prom who wasn't him and killed almost every senior in your class including your date. You were the one who knocked him out for the cops to take away. His and your parents were distraught as they never thought an angel like Ace could do something so terrible. You were just glad you'd never have to see him again.

You moved on with your life and worked your way through college getting a degree in your dream field and meeting someone nice. Unfortunately, nothing goes your way as news broke out that an escaped mental patient had fled after a transfer to the mental institution in the town you were in. Ace knew where you planned on going to college and meticulously planned a way to get there so you can be reunited.

You were having a quiet night in, house sitting for a relative who lived nearby. You had ordered some pizza and put on some horror movies. You were watching Hallow's Eve (spoof on Halloween) when the doorbell rang. Must be the pizza guy. To your horror a familiar red head was at the front door in a blue mechanic suit holding a kitchen knife and was drenched in blood. "Hiya (Y/N) hope ya didn't miss yer boyfriend too bad? Cause I missed you a lot. You promptly slamed the door in his face. You don't have time for this.

Mwah different horror tropes hope you liked it. Now that I think about it, Ruggie and Leona or Ace and Deuce would make a pretty good Billy and Stu. Love ya bye!

#yandere x reader #yandere twst #yandere obsession #yandere male #yandere slasher #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere ace trappola #yandere deuce spade #yandere trey clover #yandere cater diamond #slashers #yandere heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #deuce spade #ace trappola #cater diamond #tw yandere

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