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#and what gets me about the people who don’t feel that way is the clear Pride they feel like they’re Better for not caring
kamiversee · 3 days
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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
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✧.* CHAPTER 51 || The Resolve
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[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst if you squint, & heart-tingling fluff.
[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.5k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
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——THE TRUTH, CHOSO deserves to know the truth. After all he’s told you about himself the very least you could do is give him that. He’s earned it hasn’t he?
“Six,” You murmur honestly, your heart rate spiking as the word leaves your lips.
He repeats it as if he didn’t hear you, “Six?”
“Mhm, I’ve slept with six other guys since meeting you,” You explain in full, facing forward and avoiding looking at him.
Choso’s eyes are all over the side of your face and he takes a second, processing what you just said. “A-And that includes Geto… Sukuna, and the other guy you have feelings for, right?”
You nod and things get quiet for a second. The only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart. He hates you, doesn’t he? He thinks you’re disgusting and is seconds away from kicking you out of his car right?
You should’ve told him earlier, maybe he could’ve helped you. It’s too late now though, the silence told you everything. You basically just told him you’re a wh-
The sound of Choso letting out a relieved sigh is heard, “Thank god.” He mutters, earning the turn of your head.
“T-Thank god?” You whisper, “You’re not… You don’t… Choso, I-“
“I mean, in total, six isn’t terrible is it?” He hums casually, meeting your widened eyes, “If three I already knew about, what’s three more?” He says with a shrug.
You blink, “Choso… You can’t be serious right now?”
He tilts his head innocently, “Why not? I mean we’ve known each other since when, like, September? It’s February now, baby. If you break it down, honestly, aside from me that’s one guy a month, no?”
The way he just responded as if it’s literally nothing makes you feel like a fool for worrying so much, “You’re serious…”
“Plus, we weren’t dating so,” He shrugs.
You sigh, “D-Do you want to know who-“
“Nope, absolutely not.” Choso cuts off, shaking his head instantly.
A slight chuckle leaves you due to his reaction, “Why not?”
“I don’t need any more images in my head.” He hums, “I know who two of those six are so, that’s enough info’.”
“Right…” You murmur, nodding slightly. That went entirely different than you were expecting, “Well uh, your next question, then?”
“That was the main one I think,” Choso sighs, “I can’t imagine there’s anything else I should know that could possibly change the trajectory of our… uhm, situationship?”
“You…” You blink, “You don’t want to know who the other guy I have feelings for is?”
A brow is risen and Choso doesn’t quite understand your offer, “Does it matter who he is?”
“I don’t know…” Your shoulders raise a little.
“I mean,” Choso moves his head and glances away in thought, “I can’t imagine it being someone I know since I only know a handful of people.”
“Uh, can I ask something then?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Does the name…” You pause wondering if you should really ask your question but after a second or two, you get it out, “Does the name Gojo Satoru mean anything to you?”
“Gojo?” Choso echoes, giving you a skeptical look as he smiles a bit, “Gojo Satoru? Uh, didn’t Geto mention him earlier?”
You swallow, “Mhm…”
“Does the name mean anything to me? I dunno, I mean, I know him but-, wait…” His eyes narrow at you, “Baby…”
“Y-Yes?” You squeak out nervously.
Choso tilts his head a little, “Is he…?”
“Is he what?”
He pauses, then he swallows and meets your eyes with an intense gaze, “Do I wanna know?”
“Wanna know what?” You ask for clarification.
“Do I wanna know if that’s my competition?” Choso explains simply.
You’re still not used to such easy and quick answers to your questions, “I d-don’t know, do you?”
He stares for a minute before shaking his head, “Never mind then, I already told you, I don’t care who it is.”
“But-“
“What would knowing who it is change?”
Well, it’d give you an opening to explain the list… But then again, do you want to explain the list?
“Baby,” Choso sighs, “What I don’t know won’t hurt me, right?”
“It might…” You mumble.
His brows furrow, “How?”
That’s a damn good question. If you tell Choso that Gojo’s his competition then proceed to explain how you only slept with all those guys, including Choso himself, because of a list you were blackmailed into completing— how would he react?
No, really think about it. One, Choso might feel like a tool. Even though you know you talked to him that day in the hall because you were genuinely interested in him, he might never feel that way. To any sane human, that interaction will feel set up.
And two, somewhere deep down, you still want to protect Gojo. Why? Because you know there’s more to this blackmailing situation and you can’t tear down his character anymore without knowing the truth, that’s just not in your nature. And hey, you may regret this later when you do learn the truth but, it’s the thought that counts, right?
A man who’s obsessed with you and loves you like Gojo does wouldn’t blackmail you without good reason-
Okay, wait, what good reason is there to blackmail someone? And… What if boredom wasn’t the reason like he said it was… What if this was all done just so that Gojo could somehow trick you into running back to him?
Think about it. He claims the list was done out of boredom but later down the line tells you he loves you. What if he knew Choso hates liars, knew you’d tell Choso the truth after so long, and assumed you and Choso would part, thus leaving you to run back to him?
What if this is some kinda sick game and when the credits roll, the winning option is revealed to be Gojo Satoru? What if-
Choso says your name, “Are you okay?”
“H-Huh?” You breathe out, not knowing the facial expression you hold.
Your eyes were all wide and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.
“What’s wrong?” Choso asks carefully.
You shake your head and snap out of your mind, “Nothing, sorry.”
“After all I’ve told you, you still chose to lie to me?” He teases.
Your heart jumps a bit, “I-I didn’t mean to lie, I just, uhm… W-Well-“
He snorts and you freeze. When you look at Choso you see the way he’s smiling at you for the first time in a while. As quickly as your eyes meet, he turns away and brings his hand over his mouth.
“You… You were messing with me, weren’t you?” You question, narrowing your eyes at the man.
Choso lets out a chuckle, “Kinda. M’sorry, you just got all nervous and it was cute.”
“Well I thought I fucked up again Choso, that’s not funny,” You tell him, frowning.
He laughs, the sound more genuine than ever and making your heart simmer into a state of relaxation. A pout takes over your expression and you couldn’t believe that after all this he still found a way to tease you.
Playfully, you reach over and hit his arm, “Quit laughing, you scared me.”
Choso’s eyes get dramatically wide and he winces, bringing a hand to where you just hit him and sending you a look, “Oh wow, and after I tell you I was abused, you decide to hit me…” He points out, again making your heart sink.
You swallow hard and get nervous all over again, “Shit, s-sorry…”
Choso stares at you for a second and it’s slow how his smile returns, the sight making you realize he was messing with you again. 
This time you frown and turn away from him, “Oh my god, stop doing that, we’re supposed to be serious right now.”
He starts snickering, “Baby, c’mon you know that was a little funny.”
“It wasn’t,” You utter seriously, staring out your window and watching water slide down the glass.
The sound of him scoffing is heard before he moves and a hand is placed on your arm. You turn and look down at his fingers wrapping around your arm and watch how he tries to tug at your arms to get you to unfold them.
“I’m sorry, princess,” Choso hums, “C’mere, I was jus’ teasin’ you.”
You pull away from him, “Making jokes about your childhood trauma isn’t funny, Cho.”
“I laughed,” He says, shrugging.
You roll your eyes at him, “Well I didn’t.”
“Yeah and that’s the problem,” He argues back, “I can joke about my trauma. It’s my trauma.”
You sigh, “But-“
“Baby.” He cuts off, tipping his head to the side.
“What?”
Choso’s eyes grow pleading, “Look at me please?”
With a huff, you steadily lift your gaze to his, “Okay, now what?”
“Come here,” He says.
Your brows furrow and you blink, “What do you mean come here?”
“Climb over to me, I wanna hug you.”
You stare at him, “Choso I’m not climbing over-“
“Then I’ll go out in the rain, walk over to your side, and drag you out of that seat.” He says while finally pulling your arms loose. Then, Choso reaches down and unbuckles your seatbelt, “Either you come over here or I come over there.”
You sigh and look at his area, “Choso, there’s not even enough space for me to-“
He moves back into his seat and immediately adjusts his chair to go back as far as it can, providing you more than enough space to be able to sit on the floor and in between his legs if you wanted to.
“I dunno’ why you’re acting like you haven’t done this before,” Choso scoffs, “C’mon, bring your ass over here,” He orders, patting his thigh, “I’m not gonna ask you again.”
You sigh heavily and start moving, shifting your knees into the seat and then carefully climb over the center console and to Choso’s side. His hand goes to your waist to support you as you move and you soon find yourself sliding into his lap.
Choso’s car was rather spacious so it’s not like it was difficult for you to end up in this position with him, hell, you’ve been here plenty of times before.
Once seated comfortably, Choso settles his hands on your waist, holding you lightly as his head tips up to you, “Hi princess.”
You try not to smile at him, “Hi Cho.”
“Hug me,” He directs.
You pout, “You could at least say please…”
“If I was asking, I would’ve. But,” He tilts his head at you, “I wasn’t asking you, I’m telling you.”
You simply stare into those brown eyes of his for a moment, noticing the dullness from earlier has lifted and his pupils are dilated. After which, you begin to lean in slowly and Choso grows impatient, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him.
The smile you tried to bite back breaks free onto your face as you move to drape your arms around his neck, burying your face into him and feeling as he squeezes onto you.
Choso lets out a sigh and you feel his entire body relax underneath you as he rests his head back and shuts his eyes, “Now, can we stay like this for a while?”
The crook of his neck smells so good and you were just melting into his hold, “Mhm.”
The two of you nearly molded into one another’s bodies after all the stress that’d been endured. This was so surreal to you— to go from arguing and worrying you may have ruined everything to hugging that same person without being confused in the slightest, god it lifted this weight off your chest.
And as said weight was lifted, another weight took place on your heart. This weight was strong, suffocating even. What did this weight symbolize? Was it trust? Peace? Or… was it love?
Did such a simple yet emotionally present conversation become the breaking point for you? Was this all you needed to acknowledge your feelings? When you realized you felt something for Gojo, it was that time in his car when music was playing and he just looked so damn perfect.
But… With Choso it was different. The physical sensation of falling in love with someone is different for every person. In this case, it’s like the heat emanating from his previously wet and cold body was wrapping around you and smothering you with comfort.
Breathing in his cologne brought nothing but the brightest memories to the forefront of your mind. Choso consumed you with nothing more than a simple hug and he had no idea.
He was completely unaware of how his embrace and faint but gentle thumb swirling over your back made you never want to leave this very moment. Choso didn’t know that you were currently recalling your first phone call with him, remembering how he’d put a smile on your face after Gojo had stripped it from you.
And he’s always been that for you, hasn’t he? In a world where Gojo puts you in a dark room, leaving you frightened, confused, and nervous, Choso is to you the same light he claims you are to him.
Forget Gojo’s claims that you and him are the same. No, you’ve found the person in whom your similarities lay in and that person is none other than Choso Kamo, a man whose only fault with you was falling for you.
And even then, you don’t blame him for doing so because you did too. Your heart is simply swelling right now and you unconsciously started clinging onto his body tighter.
The way, “Choso,” Slips past your lips before you even realize is simply tantalizing to the man beneath you.
He feels as your breath hits the skin of his neck, your warmth giving him chills and making him swallow, “Yes, princess?” He replies.
“I’m sorry,” You apologize sincerely.
He sighs, “Told’ you to stop doing that.” Choso reminds you. Then, his hand slips to caress along your spine, “But, what are you sorry for, baby?”
You weren’t sure just yet. Everything? Nothing? Why is it that you have to apologize for a situation that was never your fault to begin with?
“Earlier,” You come up with, “I think I uh… I should’ve handled things differently.”
He nods a little, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling of your breath against his skin, “Oh, thank you for that. I’m sorry too.”
“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong,” You hum, smiling a little.
“Called’ you dense,” Choso recalls and you feel how his body shifts a little, “Yelled at you, caused a scene, y’know, the list kinda’ goes on, babe.”
“Choso, it-,” You pause for a second. Then, you start moving, your hands slipping down to his chest as you push yourself up to sit on his lap comfortably instead of laying on him, “What?”
He raises a brow, “Hm? What? Did I say something wrong?”
“You called me babe.” You point out, grinning.
He chuckles, “It’s no different from baby is it?”
“It is.” You say.
Choso nods, noting that in his head before asking, “Which do you like more?”
“Doesn’t matter, I like anything you call me,” You tell him, smiling a little.
Choso nods slowly and bites back the mischievous smirk that threatened to show, “Anything?”
“Mhm,” You hum with a slight shrug.
“I’ll…” His words fade for a second and he’s so deep in his head as he processes what you just told him, “Yeahh, I’ll keep that in mind.”
You tip your head to the side, “Why’d you say it like that?”
“No reason, princess, ignore me,” Choso dismisses, “Anyways, I was serious about my apology.”
You sigh and move your hand to caress the side of his face, “Right, well, I forgive you, Cho.”
“You’re supposed to say I didn’t do anything wrong,” He jokes, leaning into your touch and pushing his lower lip out to pout.
A scoff leaves you and you slip your fingers down to his jaw before grabbing ahold of his chin, “Mmmh… You yelled at me, I didn’t like that.”
“Your face said otherwise.” Choso points out, glancing off to the side.
“Hm?” Your brows knit together.
“For a second I thought you were turned on,” He says, so clearly joking with you.
You snort, “If I was turned on, it’s not because you were yelling at me.”
“Yeah?” The way the corner of his lips quips up into a sly smirk makes you shift in his lap a little, “Then what was it, baby? I knew there was somethin’.”
“When you were arguing with Suguru,” You recall simply, sliding your thumb up to trace Choso’s lower lip, “I don’t know why but I thought it was hot.”
He raises a brow, “Oh yeah?”
You just barely meet Choso’s eyes and you could feel yourself folding. Good god, why is this man so damn sexy?
“Mhm.” You hum timidly.
He pushes his lips out a little and kisses the tip of your thumb, “Words baby.”
“Yeah,” You utter, your voice almost breathy. 
“Atta’ girl,” Choso praises and you swear you should not be getting turned on right now. “Anywho, before you get yourself too worked up, I did want to ask you something else.”
You shake away your incoming horny thoughts and return to seriousness, “Okay… What is it?”
His gaze drops down to your torso and his eyes narrow, “Well, I wanted to ask about you and uh… You and Sukuna.”
For some reason, unlike earlier you’re not as nervous, “Okay…”
Choso’s index finger and his thumb are toying with the fabric of your top as the rest of his fingers rest on your hips, “Did you… Did you enjoy your time with him?” He asks carefully.
Your heart jumps, “Uh, I-“
“You promised to answer honestly,” Choso reminds you, lifting his gaze to yours once more, “I won't ask anything I don’t want the answer to.”
“Alright, well,” You look off to the side, “He was sweet to me after we…”
“After you had sex?” Choso fills in.
You nod, “Mhm. He was surprisingly good with aftercare. A-And I think… I think because of that, yes, I did enjoy my time with him.”
He gazes at you for a while without saying anything and you continue to keep your eyes elsewhere. Choso thinks back and he genuinely doesn’t remember Sukuna being like that. Before his last known girlfriend, after he’d have sex with whichever girl he was with, he’d kick most of them out.
But, there were a few he was different with. Those few Choso got to meet. The most memorable was the last known one, the same one Sukuna knocked out. Choso remembers her to be rather rude to him, calling him gross or disturbing whenever she and him crossed paths but, he recalls the woman having Sukuna wrapped around her finger.
Of course, due to Choso’s experience with Sukuna, he didn’t care to point this out to his older brother— if that woman was playing him, he deserved it.
Even so, it makes Choso wonder what about you made Sukuna treat you so nicely. Hell, it actually worried Choso because since the two attend the same university, Choso knows what it’s like to have his love interest taken from him by his older brother.
“More than…” Choso’s voice is soft, scared even, “More than with me?” He blurts out without thinking.
Your eyes snap onto his and your brows furrow, face shifting into something bothered, “What? Hell no.”
Choso releases a shaky breath and nods, “Oh, okay good.”
You tilt your head, “Choso are you worried I may feel something for him?”
“N-No, I know you said you don’t and I believe you.” Choso stammers, “I-It’s just-“
“He’s repulsive,” You snap, “After everything you’ve told me about him, I could never see that man in the same light.”
“Oh.” He chirps.
“Now, it does confuse me why I experienced something different but,” You shrug, “I don’t care to find out.”
Choso’s eyebrows raise and he stops toying with your shirt, “Really? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m not interested in him.” You say.
Choso smiles a little, “Good…” All his worry fades and he returns to his playfulness, “So uh, who are you interested in, then?”
“You, obviously.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.
“Is it obvious?” Choso questions.
You frown, “I thought so…”
“Mmmh, I dunno’ baby…” He starts looking away with a skeptical expression.
“I’ve said it before but, I do want you Choso.” You remind the man.
His eyes shoot back over to yours, “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Have me, then,” Choso says eagerly.
What surprises him the most is your response to that this time around, “Can I?” You ask.
He bats his eyelashes at you, “O-Of course.” The words pour out of his mouth and his heart skips a beat.
“You sure?” You question teasingly with an innocent tilt of your head.
“Fuckin’ positive,” Choso breathes, smiling, “Have all of me, princess.”
He’s so clearly happy about this and that makes you just as happy, “Okay…”
“Okay?” There’s a hint of need in his voice, “What does that mean?”
You give a sheepish shrug, “I don’t know…”
“Baby I can’t do I don’t know.”
“Okay then,” You slide your hands down and rest them on his chest, “Let’s make it official, Choso.”
“M-Make us official?” He asks for clarification.
“Mhm.” You hum.
“So,” He can hardly process what’s happening, the entire conversation feeling like a dream, “You wanna be my girlfriend?”
A pretty smile spreads across your face, “Yes, Choso.”
“Okay,” He whispers, nodding, “O-Okay, I can work with that.”
“Work with that?” Your brows knit, “Cho, what're you talking about-“
“Let’s go on a date,” He offers, “Wait-, no. Can I take you out on a date?”
You blink, “We’ve been on dates already-“
“A real one.” Choso urges. Oh he’s been planning this for months now, hasn’t he?
You’re smiling from ear to ear, “A real date?”
“Yes.” Choso says, “We both dress up all nice, go out to eat or somethin’, y’know, do this properly.”
“Okay.” You murmur.
His hands slide up to your waist and he squeezes a little, “Yes or no baby?”
“Yes,” You start smiling and your heart has never felt this full before, “Yes you can take me out on a date.”
“Thank you,” He sighs, suddenly tugging your body closer to his, “This way I’ll never have a reason to feel insecure.”
Your arms go up and back around his neck, “Yeah?” You whisper.
Choso’s voice lowers and his gaze is so intimate with you, “Mhm, I think that’ll solve every problem we’ve had so far.”
You nod, “I think so too.”
Both of your faces near one another and you’ve never in your life felt more content with a person before. Is this what you’ve been craving for months? Is this freedom? Peace? Bliss?
To have such a tough conversation with your heart spiking multiple times, and feeling worried about certain reactions, all to result in feeling more comfortable in a person is something you never expected. Do you deserve this? Such happiness?
Well, why wouldn’t you? What have you done to yourself to not deserve the man looking at you so lovingly right now?
Did you forget?
The list is over. You’re free to experience this without worrying about hurting anyone. You are finally allowed to love with all your heart instead of only half.
Gojo was right about one thing, he could never give you things Choso can because, at the end of the day, Choso will explain everything to you because he knows what it’s like to be confused and hurt. Choso understands you, he actually loves you.
As for that stupidly beautiful white-haired man? You’re not sure what to think of him anymore but, you think you’re done thinking about him.
Sure, you still have a journal to burn with him but, can’t you indulge yourself in the joy that is loving someone wholeheartedly? Is that not what you deserve after everything you’ve been through?
Your head tilts as your gaze sinks to Choso’s lips. Does this man even realize how wonderful he is to you? Does he know that he’s your savior? Is he aware of how much you adore him? How thankful you are to him?
“Choso,” You utter so carefully, your face nearing his.
“Yes?” He replies, his eyes dropping to your lips as they near him.
“Thank you,” You suddenly say.
He smiles a little, “For what?”
“Everything,” Your answer is vague at first but you’re quick to explain a bit more, “For loving me the way you do, being so open to me, telling me everything even though it was hard for you…”
“Baby that’s not something you have to thank me for,” He hums, letting out an amused scoff, “That’s the bare minimum of what I should be doing for you.”
Something sheer glosses over your eyes but you ignore it, smiling at his words, “But still,” Your voice is light and tainted with emotion, “Thank you for waiting for me.”
“If my reward for waiting is you,” He smiles, “I told you, I’d wait lifetimes.”
“Choso,” You breathe out, holding onto him so very tightly before the words slide out of your mouth, “I love you.”
His chest is against yours so you can feel the way his heart throbs. His breathing picks up in an instant, hitching for only a moment as your words caress his ears so beautifully.
“Y-You…” Choso’s at a loss for words. He’s dreaming, right? “You what?” He asks, his voice shaky as his eyes land on yours.
The sight of joyful and overwhelmed tears in your eyes lets him know just how real this is. Then, you lean in and just barely press your lips into his before repeating yourself, “I love you, Choso.”
Those arms around your waist squeeze you tighter and you don’t miss the way he trembles a bit, his own eyes glossing over, “I love you too, princess.”
Another sweet, soft, and lightweight kiss is shared between you two but as you pull away and your eyes meet all over again, Choso sees the way your pupils have expanded. He wonders how long they’ve been that way, having only seen it at such a size once before.
His brows tense and Choso pulls you to him again, muttering the words into your mouth, “I love you so much.”
You smile briefly against the connection before mumbling right back, “I love you too Cho.”
Everything you could’ve ever asked for was within your grasp now. Peace, freedom, happiness, certainty, hope, love— all of which was felt in the midst of you and Choso kissing so passionately.
This right here… This is what one would describe as a healthy relationship. 
Arguments and drama occur but the end result should always be this; peace and understanding.
That’s what he is to you. Choso is your peace, your understanding, and the man you love all in one.
You’ve finally ended the war in your heart. Should someone ever ask you who ended that battle, who healed the plague on you, your answer would remain forever;
Choso Kamo.
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GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢
KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???
NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙
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tags;
@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx
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Treat you like a lady
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• Your boyfriend doesn’t pay enough attention to you. Chris doesn’t like that.
• This is extremely cheesy!! That’s just how I am. Contains smut.
• Word count: 2,031
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Sunday
Today is a weekend like any other; you’re lounging on the triplets’ couch.
The tv is playing as background noise. Chris is on his laptop working on new Fresh Love designs while you lay next to him scrolling pinterest. You've known each other long enough that you can enjoy each other's company without forcing conversation. Simply being around him allows you to relax, and vice versa. You can’t find that with many people.
A sex scene causes the pair of you to look up. You exchange looks and chuckle like teenagers at it.
Chris breaks the awkward silence.
“Is it actually that good or is she playing it up?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug and go back to my phone.
I can see Chris’s brows furrow from my peripheral vision.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never had a guy go down on me before.”
“What?”
You look up from your phone.
“…What.” You echo.
“No, what do you mean you’ve never had head before? You have a boyfriend. You’ve had a boyfriend for 3 months.”
Your cheeks get warm.
Think of a way to brush this off.
“It’s not a big deal. Not everyone’s into that.”
He seems stunned, gaze focused on his sneakers.
“... Do you do it for him?”
A sigh leaves your lips, “Chris-”
“No, listen to me. If he’s not reciprocating then the problem clearly isn't that he's uncomfortable. It's that he's selfish.”
Who does Chris think he is that he can judge your love life?
“This is none of your business.” You scoff.
“I think I should go.” You stand up and grab your bag.
Chris doesn’t give up yet.
“Okay, forget about that part for a second. When’s the last time he took you out? When's the last time he surprised you?”
You're struggling to swallow down a still-beating heart. You're avoiding eye contact with an angry version of one of your closest friends, and you’re trying to block out the possibility that what he's saying could be true.
“I’ll see you later, Chris.”
7:00 pm
Chris: I'm sorry. I overstepped earlier. just think you deserve better.
You read and reread the message. Typing out a reply and deleting it. Maybe what you need is space. You put your phone on do not disturb and crawl under the covers.
Trying to distance yourself from Chris would prove to be a waste of time because you end up having a dream about him.
“Hey gorgeous” a voice whispers in your ear.
It sounds familiar but there’s no one else with you in this room, so you can’t match the voice with a face. Whoever it’s coming from, their voice sounds like silk.
You're twisting your head around to try and find the source. Whoever’s in here with you finds that amusing because laughter follows.
“I'm over here, goof.”
It’s him. He walks over to you with a smile on his face and those big blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” you asked
“I just missed you.” he says as he grabs your hand and twirls you around.
1:12 am
Well, that’s a first.
Monday
Chris opened the front door.
“Hey, I’m so glad you wanted to come over.” He said smiling.
Your face however wasn’t as cheerful.
“Yeah about that,”
You cleared your throat and walked inside.
“I think we should spend a little time apart. Like a refresh.”
His expression dropped instantly. You can’t keep eye contact. It’s too hard.
“What?”
“It’s not personal, it’s-”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“Chris , this is my relationship, stay out of it.” You say sternly.
“How can I when you’re all I think about?”
The air in the room gets thick.
“What?”
“I mean,” He scrunched his eyes and rubs his forehead. Flipping through the pages of his brain for the right words.
“I could treat you better than him.”
You laugh, “What are you talking about?”
He slowly brings his hand up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“You know it’s true.”
He takes a step toward me, his breath on my cheeks.
“I can make you feel good.”
You involuntarily gulped, which caused him to smirk. He tries to hide it.
Your mouth moves but no sound emits from it. You feel paralyzed.
He must be bluffing… right?
“Let me show you.” he whispered, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You don’t know exactly when he stepped closer but your noses are now touching.
I need to stop this.
“I have a boyfriend.” You say in a meek voice.
Chris very lightly put his right hand on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt.
“Does he make you nervous like I do?”
Chris' eyes fall to your lips.
“If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”
Shit.
Soft, pink lips touch yours. You don’t kiss back but don’t run away either. Just wanting to take in the dimensions and texture of his lips. He starts to pull back.
Wait, don’t go anywhere.
You press your lips forward, chasing him.
It makes him smile into the kiss, which in turn makes you smile. The weird sensation causes you both to start laughing.
He straightens up.
“I wanna be with you too. Wo don’t know why I was ever with him in the first place.”
Chris can’t contain his smile. He covers his mouth.
“Sorry. I know I should be more… apologetic? I guess? But I’m not. I want you all to myself.”
“Yes, you've made that quite clear.”
You pull Chris back in for a kiss by his hoodie, it makes his insides stir. He places both his hands on the sides of your face, deepening the kiss.
You pull back for air.
“I should go tell him it’s over before things go any further.”
“Ok.”
But Chris goes right back to kissing you. Sliding his thumb across your cheek.
It’s so dreamy. You have to will yourself to stop.
“Ok I’m serious this time!” You chuckle. “Can I come back tonight?”
“I’d really like that.”
4:15 pm
Me: just left his house. whew.
Chris: im proud of u and so grateful.
6:00pm
“How long have you liked me?”
“Almost our entire friendship. I don’t think I realize it until you started dating Andrew.”
Laying on Chris’s chest is the happiest you’ve felt in months. You two have been talking about all the things that made you fall for each other. He’s been rubbing your back for the past 20 minutes but decides to put his hand under your shirt to enhance the feeling.
You sighed and relaxed even more on top of him, closing your eyes.
“Damn, you have some knots right here.”
“Ugh, yeah. That’s where I carry stress.”
“Here, lay on your stomach. I bet I can relieve it.”
Chris moves so you can lay flat. Once you’re comfortable he straddles your hips and brings his hand to the hem of your shirt.
“Is it ok if I bring this up?”
“Mhm.”
He lifts your shirt to where your bra starts ,then gets to work.
Maybe it’s the skin to skin contact, or the fact that your muscles were tense, but his hands feel heavenly. You can’t help but let out a string of sighs.
“That feeling good?”
“Yes, oh my god. Thank you so much.”
He chuckles. “Anything for my girl.”
After a few minutes of the same motions he decides to explore new territory.
He rubs his hands over your hips, your ribs, and now your thighs.
“Seems like there’s a lot of heat coming from your legs, baby.”
“You’re such a good massager it’s hardly my fault.” You tease back.
You try to close your legs together but he doesn’t like that. Keeping a hand right between them.
He brings his mouth right next to your ear. Lowering his voice.
“Do you need relief somewhere else, baby?”
While he talks he maneuvers his hand so it’s nearly flat against your clothed center.
You try to keep it together. You can’t already be at a loss for words.
You nod into his pillow.
“Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty face.”
Your cheeks heat up immediately as you position yourself on your back. The two of you make eye contact and any anxiety you had about intimacy with Chris is gone.
“We can stop whenever you want.” He says before kissing you.
“Let me show you how a real man behaves.”
He smirks and lowers himself to your stomach. Kissing your happy trail. Leaving tiny bites.
Since you’re wearing sweats he slides them off in seconds, taking your underwear with them. He tosses them over his shoulder and they hit some things in his dresser, causing them to fall. It makes you giggle but Chris is entranced by the sight before him.
“Jesus Christ.” He says to himself.
He runs his nose where your leg meets your hip. Kissing further and further. Creating a puddle before he even touches you. He licks your inner thighs. Painting them with purple marks.
Finally, his mouth is where you crave it. He’s apprehensive at first but once you let out your first moan it’s all over for him.
Chris sucks your clit and your mind goes blank. Nothing ever felt like this before.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”
When he goes back down he licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit.
Your back arches off the bed.
“That’s it.” he says into my skin.
He’s lapping at your folds like it’s water and he’s been in a drought. Grabbing onto your thighs to make sure you don’t go anywhere. Not that you'd want to, but his actions do cause quite a bit of squirming.
“God, you’re everything.”
It almost seemed like he was saying it to himself. Like he couldn’t believe youre real.
“Next time you want something done right, come to me.”
“Fuck yes.” You moan.
When he lifts his face up again, your juices are dripping down to his neck. You’re so mesmerized by the sight you don’t register what he's saying. It just sounds like white noise.
Chris tsks.
“Looks like I fucked you dumb, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up.”
You push his face back down. He starts fucking you with his tongue.
“Yes ma’am.”
Jesus
Your thighs tighten around his neck, he squeezes them back as a response.
“You taste so sweet, baby. Like syrup.”
You can’t do anything more than whimper and grind into his face.
Chris grabbed the hand that was clenching the bedsheets and guided it to his hair. You happily thread your fingers through.
He touches you like you're all he asked god for. The sounds coming from you are his favorite song. This is the alchemy he does.
“Oh god,” your voice goes up an octave.
“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
“Please, so close.”
“Cmon, be a good girl and cum on my face.”
He made you a whimpering mess. Arousal dripping down your legs, down his lips, on the sheets. Chris continues to reach his tongue deep inside you while drawing figure eights on your clit.
In an instant your vision goes black.
The next minute was spent shaking and catching your breath. Goosebumps littered all over my body.
You don’t know when but at some point Chris must’ve turned you so you were laying on your side. He pulled a lightweight blanket over you and was now playing with your hair.
“Hey pretty girl.” He said softly as you opened your eyes.
“Hi”
“You did so well for me.” He kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t move.”
He quickly wet a washcloth and grabbed a water bottle.
You could drift off to sleep at any moment, but Chris made sure to clean you up first.
It felt nice to be taken care of for once. He made sure you were warm enough. every few minutes he laid kisses on your face. You were too tired to say anything but he could see how happy you were. That was enough for him
123 notes · View notes
groguspicklejar · 12 hours
Text
Under Your Spell
Chapter 1: Sink Your Teeth
Pairing: Gaz x f!reader x Soap
Warnings: dark fic!!! dubcon/noncon touching, nonconsentual filming, manipulation, smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, rough sex, mirror sex, male masturbation, one-sided pining.
A/N: idk how but this just spawned right out of me :)
+18 Only!!! No Minors or Ageless Blogs are to read this!!! And if you're not comfortable with the warnings above and the tags, do not read!!!
[Part 2] [Part 3]
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They return at the same time. Your eyes dart around as people pour out from the terminal gate until you spot them. Both still in their green uniforms, both weary and drained from their last mission.
Kyle instantly smiled when he sees you waiting for him and beelines for you. Nothing but relief flooded you when he drops his duffle bag and brings you into his arms and spins you around. Gleeful squeals are all that leave you when he does this and puts you down while kissing the side of your head. “God, you’ve no idea how much I missed you, doll.”
You’re a little breathless as he brings his mouth upon yours for a sweet kiss. “I have a distinct feeling that you’ll remind me when we get home.”
His eyes darken for a second. “Don’t you start.”
Smiling, you shift out of his grasp and turn to his companion. “Hey, Soap.”
“Good tae see ye again, bonnie.” John MacTavish, ever the enthusiast, grins widely at your greeting. You were surprised at how tightly Soap embraced you, but returned the gesture nonetheless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin.
He’s touchy, this one. Even more than your husband is. But that’s just Soap, he’s the affectionate one of the group and you’ve grown used to it by now. Soap’s arms tighten when you squirm and giggle, asking him if he’ll let go now.
You roll your eyes. He does this every time.
Although, today might be a little different.
“A few more minutes, bonnie” You flinch when he presses a kiss on your neck, lips then brushing against the curve of your ear as his voice lowers. “I’ve missed ye.”
For all of five seconds, you freeze, unsure of how to respond. Wondering if the ringing in your head was just you overreacting or if he was being as serious as you think he is.
You’re all too aware of the weight of his hands on your back, how he seems far too content with staying just like that. How he seems to want to melt into your bones and never leave.
Clearing your throat, you gently pull away. He’s just friendly. He’s just Soap. You’re reading into things that aren’t there.
“Okay.” you manage to smile again. “Who’s hungry?”
You don’t think they could’ve been any happier at that moment.
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You didn’t think much about that moment after that. You’ve just been too busy appreciating Kyle’s presence back home.
“You’ve been banking on this, haven’t you?” He’s got you bent over the sink, still in his gear. He’s on his knees as you plant your hands against the mirror. “Walking around wearing nothing under this.”
Your floral pink dress had been hiked up to your hips. His mouth sucking hotly on the skin of your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. His teeth nip your ass, earning a faint whimper.
Weeks of pent up agitation. Weeks without Kyle. It's never easy. Watching him leave, hoping he stays alive, praying he comes back to you still alive and in one piece. Hardly a night goes by when you don't think about him.
Hardly a moment goes by without thinking about the way he touches you. With fevor, with reverence. You've bought more batteries for your vibrator in the last few years than the average person does in their entire lifetime.
You’re trying to keep quiet. Trying not to let the throbbing between your thighs overrule your logic as you try to keep your voice lowered. Johnny’s in the guest room and the walls aren’t thick. You can’t bear the thought of him hearing what your husband does to you in the dead of night.
“My pretty little whore.” The trepidation in your bones increases when he buries his face in your pussy. You cover your mouth, eyes fluttering when his tongue cards between your folds, a loud groan following, echoing through the bathroom tiles. “Sitting in a public airport, waiting for me with no panties on. And you say I’m the nasty one, you hypocrite.”
A strained mewl escapes between your fingers. Your forehead lays against the mirror as he spreads your folds and licks your quivering pussy. And he does so slowly, with the patience of a saint.
Fuck, you've missed him.
“I’m not the one eating if from the ba–ah!” Your retort crest into a high pitch, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Too fast, too soon. Too loud. He suckles on your clit and rolls it between his tongue, hands gripping your ass to keep you still when you squirm too much.
The edge of a cliff is eerily too close and he's determined to nudge you just over it. Sparks crackle and light a fire down your spine. You want to reach for his hair but you can't leg go of the sink or risk removing the only barrier that keeps you from being too loud.
There's not much that can be done about the lewd wet noises that come from Gaz devouring you, but you muffle your own noises with the back of your wrist whilst still trying to beg him for more. “Kyle– please–”
You try to whisper, but it comes out in a hiccup. A weak moan, a plea for more, for mercy. For anything. Much to your devastation, he stops and grins at you with glistening hips and chin.
“Why are you getting all shy on me, love? You wanted this.” He stands up and you want to beg him to kneel again, but your eyes trail to his hands as you look behind. He's undoing his belt and rucks his pants down enough for his to reveal his cock.
You're trying not to be too distracted by how thick and veiny it is, how fucking good he's going to stretch you out. Instead, you meet his heated gaze. “I’m trying not to let our guest know what we’re up to.”
Kyle gently orders you to place your knee on the sink because he wants a clear view of your pussy. His arm wraps around you. You're set ablaze at the blunt tip sliding through your folds, a choked whimper muffled by how hard you bit your lip.
“Who cares if he hears us?” He keeps your stare through the mirror, angling his hips, drawing for the kill. Your skin prickles hotly when his cock pushes inside. He pulls out, only for a brief second, a miniscule moment of anticipation. “All that matters–”
His hips snap. A surprised scream tears out of your throat. He slides right home, filling you in ways you've missed, ways you could only find in dreams.
“–is our happy reunion.” he groans out, slowly pulling out and drawing inside again.
Your head lays against his shoulder. His cock is throbbing as he slowly pulls out and for a moment, you think he's going to take his time. He almost always does. But no—
A loud moan echoes through the bathroom when he snaps his hips again, sinking his cock deep inside your cunt. He presses you against the ceramic basin, face buried in your neck with his deep groan melting into your bones.
His hands pawed at the bodice of your dress until he's had enough of the fabric getting in the way. Suddenly, you gasp at the buttons that popped and spilled all over as he tore it open, granting him access to your breasts.
There was no time to reprimand him for that as he already started gliding his shaft in and out, muttering a strained curse into your ear. Pleasure coursed through your veins like rivers of molten lava, burning every sense of logic.
He made you look at him through the mirror and his hand reached between your legs. “Now be a good girl and let me hear you.”
“Gaz–” you choked, trying to keep your voice down. Your hand automatically goes to cover your mouth when your squeal pierces through the air, his thrusts becoming harder, more precise. You're spiralling further and further away from your grip on sanity with each drag of his length.
The power he had over you was frightening. But you couldn't find a drop of fear in your blood. He was so good at numbing every rational thought in your head with the way he easily bends your body to his will.
He fills you up so good, it's impossible to resist the flood that builds inside. Your pussy is fluttering and creaming around him already as he's fucks you in earnest, his rough palms groping your breasts under the torn material of your dress. Your skin already burns hot from the wet salacious noises and your own helpless mewls are muffled behind your hand.
“No hands on your mouth.” he commands, dragging your hand away, heated eyes seeing into you through his reflection. “Or I won’t let you cum.”
It's harsh. Almost bordering on cruel. But you've never known Kyle to go back on his promises. If he says he will or won't do something, it's more than likely that he means it and he'll stand on his word.
“Let him hear you. Let him hear how sweet you’re being for me.” It's pure sin whispered into your ear through harsh grunts and nips of his teeth. His fingers slip through your folds, dragging through the wetness and bringing it to circle around your throbbing clit. You can't help the moans that bleed out of your throat. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Be as loud as you need.”
His hips grind into you almost to the point where it's painful. There's going to be bruises on your hips from the way he's kept you pinned against the sink. Your hooded gaze is drawn to the mirror, watching the way your husband's cock glistens between hurried thrusts.
You're already at the brink of your limit with Kyle muttering endless filth about how he wouldn't mind showing Soap how good this pussy gets fucked every night upon his return, how Soap would be made to beg for a taste of you.
“He's a fucking dog, that one. He'd slobber all over your cunt if he even thinks he's got a chance.” Kyle says while rubbing your clit harder, his gaze focused on your drunken expression. “Would you give it to him, love? Would you let him eat your pussy?”
Your eyes roll back at the thought. Your mouth hung open as a long mewl escapes your lungs when you tighten around his cock. He fucks you harder when you cum. And keeps the pace up until it stutters and he floods your pussy with his spend.
You don't know what to make of Kyle's words. Except to chalk them as just that. Words. Just words. He can't actually want his best friend to fuck you, that's ridiculous.
If Soap heard what was going on in the other room, he didn’t breathe a word about it the next day. He was as chipper as a man can be, in fact. He's whistling as he walks into the kitchen as you're boiling water for Kyle's tea and your coffee.
“Mornin’, bonnie.” His grin is the widest it has ever been. You flinch when his hand brushes the small of your back when he walks past you. The touch is brief, but you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, seeping into your skin through your crisp shirt.
He's a fucking dog, that one.
Would you let him eat your pussy?
Your resolve falters. The unholy thoughts filter into your mind a million times at a second. Soap spreading your legs open with that mischievous glint in his eyes before he starts to lick the viscous fluid from your cunt. Your own body betrays you, a pulse slowly coming to life between your thighs.
Would you give it to him, love?
You pour a mug for Johnny. He preferred coffee. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” He pecks your cheek when you hand him the ceramic cup. “Feels good tae sleep on a bed tha’ doesn’t feel like a rock.”
You wished with all your might to not let it affect you. His proximity had never been a problem before. Now it grates at your existence. Whatever Kyle said to you the night before has taken root and has dug its way through some dark part of you that you haven't quite let into the light.
You need to rip it out. From the root and never let it grow back. You can't let it ruin your marriage. You can't let it get between a perfectly good friendship.
Kyle chuckled as he entered the kitchen. “Amen to that.”
It felt nice to have the boys back home. But alas, you had places to be and things to do and you wanted some semblance of space away from your husband's best friend so you can think clearly.
Both of them sat down across from each other at the table in the middle of the kitchen, drinking the tea/coffee you made for them. You had already gotten dressed for the day and went to grab your bag from the sofa while sipping your coffee. Johnny's voice follows you when you slink it over your shoulder, the weight of your laptop straining your bones. “Where are ye going, love?”
“Work.” You take one big gulp of your coffee before heading over to the sink. “Got an early meeting.”
You try as best as you can not to catch Soap's eyes as you finish the rest of your early morning hot beverage.
“Damn, really?” Kyle frowns. “Can’t you take a day off?”
“Unfortunately not, hon.” Your nearly empty cup goes in the sink and you head over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Some of us don’t get to have extended paid leave for saving the world because well… we don’t save the world.”
He puts his mug down on the table. “Let me drive you to work then.”
“No, it’s okay.” you pecked his lips and patted his shoulder. “You can stay in and get some sleep. Lord knows you need it.”
The last bit was whispered with a cheeky smile though you're sure Soap heard before you whirled away from him, letting his exasperated groan follow you to the door. “Dollface…”
“I’m right here, ye ken.” Johnny grumbles, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Apologies, Johnny.” you giggled just as Kyle stood up.
“Come on, I’m dropping you off. And I’ll be picking you up later too.”
It's very unlikely that he'll be taking no for an answer, so you graciously accept.
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“Look at the mirror, dollface. So pretty for me, darlin. All for me.”
Smut bastard, Johnny grits his teeth, jerking the hand around his leaking cock faster. The light from his phone illuminated his face in the dark room.
The flowers printed on your dress had been ruffled and torn wide open, revealing your breasts for display, showing the way they jiggled with each hard push of Kyle's hips. The man's hand played with one tit while the other splayed on your stomach with your dress bunched up, revealing the prize between your legs.
The hidden camera worked like a charm. Connected to Soap's phone to alert him when the motion detector had been set off and let him see and record everything. He's been playing the video back on repeat ever since you left for work.
It was Kyle's idea, a way to just rub it in Johnny's face on what he's missing out on. You.
Gaz, despite being open to the idea of letting another man fuck you, has been greedy about you since the very beginning. He doesn't brag about you to the squad. Always kept it hush-hush when it comes to you, even to Price.
That was until Gaz noticed the little crush obsession Soap had. Though it was kind of obvious with the way he kept asking about you. How you were, what you were probably doing at particular times of the day. Basic things. Innocent things. Harmless enough to keep Soap from spiralling while he's on deployment, harmless enough to make him look forward to come to visit you.
“You worry about Soap hearing you, but what if he saw us like this, hm?” Kyle's gravel tone crackles through the phone. Soap fixes his eyes on the way his cock batters your sweet pussy, your whimper making his blood sing. “Naughty girl— You liked that, don't you?”
Johnny feels his shaft throb with want, with a vicious need dig his fingers into your skin through the bloody screen. Just an ounce of shame bleeding into his veins as he fists his cock, desperate for that release. Pining over his best friend's wife. Drooling over you like the fucking dog that he is.
It doesn't help that said best friend is helping him indulge this disgustingly insatiable need.
Your sweet voice crescendos into a cry of your husband's name when you cum. Soap watches the way your face scrunched in pleasure, your frame twitching in Kyle's arms. It is too much, triggering Soap's orgasm altogether.
It's a hot, blistering implosion. A savage curse taking root deep in his heart and wrapping around his veils, his bones. A hiss tears through the air, hips stuttering as he forces his cock through his lubed hand for a few more strokes while hot cum bursts from it.
He's shaking as the high slowly descends him back down to earth. Panting deeply as he lays heavily on the bed, heat and sweat clinging to his skin. All he can think of is you, you, you.
There was no erasing you from his mind. No after what he's seen. Not after Gaz made him pear through his most private moments with you, showing just how good you are to him.
Johnny groans as he finally lets go of his cock, swallowing thickly as he looks at the cum sticking to his palm.
“Hells fucking bells...”
Gaz is never going to let him live this down.
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[part 2; Split My Skin] Under Your Spell Masterlist posting this and going straight to sleep. bye✌🏽
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138 notes · View notes
hobbyistauthor · 2 days
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9 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie
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minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.
TW: References to period-typical homophobia, brief discussion of HIV/AIDS crisis.
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Part I ┊ Part II ┊ Part III ┊ Part IV ┊ Part V ┊ Part VI ┊ Part VII ┊ Part VIII ┊ Part IX (📍)
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Arlene grins at him, although her smile is painfully awkward and more like a grimace to Steve’s eyes.
“Guess I wasn't as clear as I thought I was.”
She steps towards him, holding her arms out in invitation. “Baby Bear, I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood the subtext.” She apologizes and Steve's heart immediately starts to mend itself from the damage his knee-jerk fear at being outed caused, healing by the grace of the heartfelt nature of her words. The cracks that widened along the well-worn fault lines that spiderweb across the shattered patchwork remnants of his heart begin to fill in slowly, rebuilding yet again. He should have known, he should have never doubted his mom because she always has his back. He chokes down a relieved sob as all of the stress from the last few minutes comes crashing down on him with all of its immense weight, sending him stumbling into his mom’s open arms. He feels safe and warm, cradled in an embrace he’s missed terribly for the past three years. He immediately starts crying, the tears coming hot and fast down his cheeks and leaving salty streaks in their wake.
“Ohh, baby…” Arlene shushes him softly, rocking Steve gently side to side while she cards her fingers through his hair. He feels like a child again, comforted after falling and skinning his knee playing outside. He clutches to her harder, the catharsis too great to hold back as he gasps huge wet breaths in between his long bouts of sobbing, choking cries. He has no idea what she's doing here, back home in Hawkins when it looks less like a small town and more like a war zone, but he’s certainly not complaining about her presence. He’s missed her, and right now he's going to relish being close to his mom again for as long as she sticks around. He knows how busy she is, how important her new position at Ellsco is and he refuses to be the reason that gets jeopardized. Arlene smells like good wine and expensive cologne–not perfume, she’d never liked perfume–and Steve buries his face in the crook of her neck, sniffles at where she's warm and her pulse is strong. His fingers are fisted tightly in the fabric of her button-front, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but she doesn't even flinch. She’s always had her priorities in line, and laundry ranks far below her only son.
“I'm so sorry, honey,” she murmurs again, cradling the back of his head in her palm. “I know how dangerous the world is for people like me, and I should have known better than just making assumptions about who you’d told or hadn’t told about your presumed sexuality. What I said and the implications could have put you in danger were we around prying ears, even if you aren’t queer, because rumors are powerful things. Granted, I don’t think Eddie is the kind of person to think less of you if you were queer, if it's any consolation? I told him I was a lesbian and he didn’t really bat an eyelash, very respectful… I don't think Eddie will remember what I said, either? He's fairly blitzed...”
Steve laughs, the sound weak and wet from all his weeping. “N-no. It's okay,” he wants to reassure her, because honestly the fact that she’d wanted to goof around with him about it, wanted to normalize his queerness just like she would have done if he were feeling this way about a girl means more to him than words can say. She hadn’t done that out of malice, she knows how dangerous it is out there for people like them, knows she made a mistake by outing him–even if he technically hasn’t confirmed or denied it, yet–and apologized for it, too. Knowing that his mom is like him, like Robin, warms him from the inside out, igniting a bonfire in his chest and comforting him like the way it would dispel the chill of an autumn night. He thinks he might be ready to finally give voice to the words he’s never let himself say.
“I'm… I mean…”
“... Baby Bear?”
Steve takes a stuttering breath, trembling as his grip tightens on his mom’s shirt, “I… I'm not straight, mom.”
Arlene cards a hand gently through his hair, her other arm pulling tight across his shoulders with a comforting weight. He leans into her embrace, his eyes squeezing shut as his heartbeat races in his chest. He’s never said it out loud before; never actually voiced the truth to anyone besides himself in the safety of his own mind, well and truly alone with his thoughts. Hell, he's not even told Robin yet, although he's pretty sure she suspects, as if squinty eyed knowing looks she's been shooting him lately weren't telling enough. It’s not that he’s in any way ashamed to admit his bisexuality, but. It’s always felt like something he’s just not allowed to talk about? He’s not greedy, it’s not like being bisexual makes him more likely to cheat or anything–that’s horrible, and he refuses to ever cheat on anyone–but he likes both. He has a luxury in being able to choose to take the safe option; the path of least resistance. It’s not like he’s truly sacrificing because it’s not a lie, is it? He very well can fall in love with and have a perfectly fulfilling relationship with a woman–it doesn’t mean he doesn’t also find men attractive or that the potential to have the same type of relationship with a man is miraculously no longer there, but. He has the luxury of appearing straight-passing. Robin and people like her can never have that, the illusion of safety, without cutting away a part of themselves and pretending to be something they’re not. Forcing themselves into boxes that don’t fit for the sake of keeping themselves alive in a world that wishes them dead.
“Thank you for telling me,” mom’s voice is soft and gentle, soothing as she continues to hold him, “it’s very brave of you.”
He laughs, the sound wet and full of self-hatred, “Is it?” he scoffs.
Arlene pulls back from him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking Steve in the eyes, an intensity behind her long lashes. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, deep sorrow intermingling with the upset painted across her face.
“Stevie, of course it is. Coming out is terrifying, every time. It’s sometimes the hardest thing you may ever do in your life, because it’s voicing something so deeply personal to someone you hope you can trust. And sometimes,” her lips twitch into a bittersweet smile, “sometimes that trust is broken.”
Steve smiles back, wobbly and wet as he sniffles some tears away. He chuckles, relief washing over him as it actually starts to sink in that his mom is okay with him, that she’s not going to abandon him, that she believes him. It’s freeing and the tears stream down his cheeks anew, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. Arlene shushes him, a broken worried sound, as her thumbs wipe away the salty streams as they tumble down his face. His sobs are half laughter, relief tangling up with the remnants of his anxiety, the internalized self-hatred he’s been working on sweeping away. Robin has talked about internalized homophobia before, and he’s more than aware he’s been working on his own since that day on the floor of the nasty Starcourt movie theater bathroom. Having his mother here, supporting him, loving him so earnestly, helps to rip it from where it stubbornly clings to the walls of Steve’s thoughts, and with every tear track she wipes away, he feels himself grow lighter.
“Mo- Momma Bear,” he warbles out, unable to stop his crying even as he smiles, “Momma, I’m bisexual.”
Arlene pauses in her earnest wiping of his tears, blinking at him. Slowly, and with the warmth of the sun rising above the horizon in the breaking of dawn, she smiles at him. Her eyes crinkle with how wide her lips pull, glistening with unshed tears of her own, sniffling as she just looks at him. He can see the pride in her eyes, the happiness in her smile. 
“Baby Bear,” she says, “I love you so, so much.”
“Love you too, Momma,” he murmurs, throwing himself back into her arms, squeezing tightly. She’s smaller than him now, and it catches him off guard a little. Arlene has always felt larger than life to Steve, the biggest person in the room every time, but now he stands slightly taller than her and broader than her in the shoulders and arms. She fits against him differently than she used to–it’s still a shelter, but the comfort shared feels equal in exchange.
“So,” Arlene asks, her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms tucked under his to rest against his shoulder blades, “when did you know, Stevie-bear? Last I’d heard from you it was all ladies all the time. What changed?”
He chuckles, pressing his nose into her hair where it’s started to come loose from its’ styling. “I’ve always known, I think. I started noticing boys the same time I noticed girls, but context cues from people around me made it obvious that boys didn’t talk about other boys like boys talked about girls.” He shrugs, inhaling the familiar simple scent of her expensive shampoo. “I actually thought everyone had the same thoughts as me, finding everyone pretty and just choosing not to acknowledge the other side of things until later on. I um. I met someone who’s gay, actually, and they kind of made me realize that my way of thinking wasn’t exactly straight.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, carefully considering his next words to keep Robin’s identity to himself. His mom might also be a lesbian, but he would never out Robin, even to another queer person. He couldn’t betray her trust like that. “We were talking and I asked them to choose between two celebrities, which one they thought was hotter. They said neither, and I was so confused. I said, ‘not even like, objectively?’ and they were just so meh about the whole thing I really had to reevaluate my entire life, really.”
Arlene laughs along with Steve, and he presses his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Sighing.
“We took a few trips up to Indy, and there’s a couple of bookshops up there that sell, um. Zines? And other queer literature? So I kind of, immersed myself in that, and I realized I was probably bisexual all along and just hadn’t understood that liking both was an option.”
“Mm, sexuality is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?”
Steve chuckles, pulling back from Arlene for a moment to look at his mom. She seems softer in the waning light of the kitchen, hair falling from its styling, her shirt rumpled–blazer long lost–and standing in her socks on the tile. He can feel the fondness in his own bearing, no doubt mirroring the expression she has on her face as she looks back at him. His dad used to complain about how similar he looks to his mom–how closely he took to the Ellsworth family genetics rather than the Harrington genes. Steve’s never been more grateful for that.
“I mean, learning about the Kinsey scale was pretty interesting,” he says, “I’m not a perfect 3 I don’t think,” he admits, shrugging. He’s definitely pickier about what men he’s attracted to than he is about what draws him to women. The basics are there–brown hair, doe eyes, intelligent, a little mean–but otherwise, it’s just easier with women. He doesn’t have preferences or anything beyond his four main attraction points, but men? Men have to be pretty in some way… something about them has to strike Steve in a way that makes him pause, consider, and think wow, he’s pretty, huh? If that thought doesn’t happen, there’s no attraction, it’s just another dude. 
“I think the number was um, a 2?” he taps his lips with a finger as he thinks, “Like, women are just easier for me to notice, because women, right?” He makes a curvy gesture with his hands while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making his mom snort a laugh, but she’s smiling and nodding so he continues. “But, like, objectively, I notice when dudes are hot. I mean, it doesn’t really do anything for me, I just notice.”
He licks his lips as his thoughts drift to one particular man. He feels hot where the blood flushes the skin of his neck, his mouth suddenly becoming dry as a desert. “But… sometimes a man just floors me with how pretty he is, you know?” He kind of hates how dreamy his voice gets by the end of his little monologue, how telling he’s being in the way he talks about a not-so-hypothetical man. 
“Well,” Arlene says, raising an eyebrow at Steve that makes him feel so seen, “I do not know, because I am a big ol’ Kinsey 6,” she smirks and Steve groans. “But! I understand what you mean,” she laughs at his disgruntled expression, and the sound is so fond and teasing that Steve can’t help his blush and shoves gently at his mom.
“Shut up, mom! Oh my god, why am I talking about this with you!?”
“Because I’m your mother and you missed me and I’m also gay as fuck, Stevie-bear! You know you’re safe talking about your boy-crushes with me, now,” she croons softly at him, clearly conscious of her volume as she leans into his space, grinning mischievously.
Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his happiness with the continued ease of their relationship. His mom relents, leaning back against the kitchen island and smoothly exiting Steve’s personal space.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Mom, but why are you here? Back in Hawkins?”
Arlene sighs, the sound heavy as though she’s carrying the weight of the world as she tilts her head backwards.
“I wanted to see you, Bear,” she admits, “and after the truly horrendous call I had with the financial advisor over the phone about how I wanted to adjust the terms of access for the trust,” she makes a face, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes, “I knew it would be simpler to come here myself and handle it in person. That it gave me an excuse to see you? A bonus that Charlene was all too willing to exploit to bully the rest of the board into getting me some well deserved R&R time.” 
Arlene preens a little, clearly delighted with the ingenuity of herself and Charlene–he’s glad that he knows how well his mom pays her, because honestly that woman has to be a saint to put up with the ridiculous energy and demands of his mother on a daily basis–she’s a tough business woman, and for good reason.
“You do work a lot, Mom,” Steve says, his smile going crooked with fondness at his mother’s dramatic flair, “I’m glad Charlene’s in your corner.”
“Mm, I’m going to make sure I can wrangle her up a good bonus again this year… or maybe a raise? The taxes they throw on bonuses are bullshit, anyway.”
“Definitely a raise, Mom.”
“I’ll do that, then, Stevie-bear. Thanks for your input,” she waves him closer and he goes easily, bending forward when she beckons, receiving a smacking forehead kiss for his obedience. It fills his heart with warmth and he realizes his smile has yet to fade. They stand together in comfortable silence in their kitchen for a long moment, just existing in each other’s space. It’s both strange and welcoming, a reminder of something he’s not thought he’d have again. Just being with his mom makes Steve feel safe, but it’s been such a long time, it’s foreign even through the oddly nostalgic tingle that dances across his skin.
“So,” Arlene finally breaks the silence, “can you explain to me what exactly is going on with Eddie?”
“I–”
“Look, Stevie,” she sighs, “you know I’m not judging you in the slightest, right? I just feel like I need a better grasp on the situation. I mean, I walked into my own home to the guy perched on my countertops eating fucking Spaghetti-Os over the sink and looking like some sort of fantasy monster out of one of Le Guin’s novels. I need a little more context than the vague garbage excuses Owens and Stinson spouted at me.”
Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised she even knows anything, “Um, yeah, about that–how–?”
“Ellsco works with government contracts, and that requires me to have certain levels of clearance regarding confidential matters,” Arlene replies, a smug eyebrow raise punctuating her statement, “So needless to say, they learned quickly that they couldn’t shut me out. Not when Ellsco is as intertwined and as important to their work as we are.”
“Mom,” Steve breathes, “you didn’t!”
“You bet your ass I did!” she scoffs, “What, you think I wouldn’t threaten to pull funding for their weird little projects entirely once I found out my son was involved in something they fucked up?! And they thought they could just not tell me?”
“Oh my g–” Steve cackles, “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking badass, holy shit!”
“Praise me all you want, Bear, but that’s not getting you out of explaining what the hell is up with the claws and the ears and fangs and the tail.”
“He’s got wings too, actually.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” He nods, “They’re small enough he can hide ‘em under his shirts now, if they’re baggy enough, but yeah.”
“Huh.” Arlene blinks slowly before she tosses her head slightly, as though she’s forcibly shaking herself out of her thoughts, “No distracting me, Bear. How did he get like that? Is it because of the, eh, what did they call it… Upside Down? The thing that caused the earthquakes and the weird cracks in the ground?”
“Kind of. It’s… it’s a really long story,” Steve sighs, raking his hand through his hair, “can… can we go sit down for this?”
“Jesus,” Arlene mutters, a concerned expression crossing her face, “how long is long, baby? You need to sit down to tell it?”
“Um.” 
“Baby Bear…”
“It’s been going on since ‘83.”
“Are you fucking–goddamn ‘83?!”
Steve cringes and shrugs, “I–I mean, y-yeah?”
Arlene pinches the bridge of her nose, “Shit. I might pull funding out of spite anyway, Jesus fucking Christ. And let me guess,” she spits, “you’ve been involved the whole goddamn time?”
“Uh–”
“Nope, no, Stevie-bear, that was rhetorical, you’re my kid, of course you were fucking involved. You’re too kind to not want to help, even if it was terrifying…”
“Um–”
“Did the fucking government just leave it all in the hands of fucking children?!”
“I mean, Ms. Byers and Hop were there the whole time–”
“Ms. Byers? Hop?” Arlene squints at Steve briefly, before she shakes her head, “Joyce and Jim? You’re telling me they were the only adults who knew about this?”
“I mean, yeah?” he shrugs, “It was mostly me, Nance, Jon, and later on, Rob? Oh, and the kids I told you about? The ones I babysit? And Ms. Byers and Hop were the adults in the know. We’ve kinda’ been like, the first line of defense, you know?”
Arlene looks distraught the more he talks, and Steve feels guilty for making his mom upset. He’d hoped he would have made her feel better, knowing he’s had adults on their side at least, but somehow he thinks he’s made it worse.
“Good God, baby…” she sounds winded, “how–how have you not called me for help sooner?”
“You’ve been busy, Mom,” he shrugs, “I’m okay, and you’ve got your own life. I don’t want to bother you with the trivial stuff.”
“None of that is trivial!”
He flinches.
“Baby!” He blinks in shock as warm palms fit smoothly around his cheeks, staring into his mom’s desperate teary eyes, “baby, nothing I do is more important than you, especially not if you need help.”
“I–”
“There’s nothing I can do about it now, it’s too little too late, but, please, Baby Bear,” she pleads with him, a frantic tone in her voice, “tell me next time, never assume it’s trivial, because I promise you, it isn’t.”
Unbidden, Steve feels tears well up again. He hasn’t cried this much since he was a kid, but he supposes it’s fitting now that his mom is back, bringing with her that feeling of safety he’d thought had vanished along with the warmth of his childhood summers in Italy.
“Okay,” he warbles, “O- Okay, momma, I promise.”
“Good,” she nods her head once, a jerky, emotional motion before gingerly focusing her attention on wiping the stray tears from Steve’s cheeks.
“C- Can we go sit now? If you still want to know about everything?”
“Yeah, Stevie-bear.” Arlene steps back away from him, her hands slipping from his face to his shoulders, sliding down his arms slowly, soothingly. Her delicate, manicured fingers gently encircle his wrists, holding him so softly with just the slightest pressure against the beat of his pulse. He smiles at her, feeling the way it wobbles on his lips in time with the tumultuous emotions roiling in his gut. She returns it in kind and together they head back into the living room, hand in hand. 
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Steve is half expecting Eds to be waiting for them like an eager puppy, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but they aren’t greeted by his enthusiasm at all. Steve’s anxiety rises immediately and he darts away from his mom, bee-lining to the couch since that was the last place he saw Eddie. His heart calms when his eyes settle on the form of his sweetheart, curled around the blanket he snuggles under with Steve most nights, his nose buried in the folds and making soft huffing breaths in his sleep. Steve deflates, leaning heavily against the couch as the relief washes over him. He’s helpless to resist the urge that rises, reaching out and running his fingers through the beautiful boy’s hair, pushing it out of his face and tracing the shell of his long, tapered ear as he tucks the dark curls behind it. He knows how soft his expression must be, glad that his back is to his mom, because he doesn’t think he can stand her teasing right now. Eddie purrs quietly in his sleep, pressing into Steve’s touch and it pulls him back to reality. He straightens, turning back to Arlene. 
“Um, I’m going to sit here,” he tells her, aware his face is completely giving him away, but determined to not let it bother him. He squares his shoulders.
Arlene simply smiles warmly at him, pushing the armchair closer to the couch and settling into it, tucking her legs underneath her as she waits for him to get himself situated.
Steve exhales, looking down at the sweet, half-monster curled so cutely on the couch. He makes a quick decision and prays his mom won’t razz him too much for it.
He sits on the middle cushion, pulling one of the decorative pillows up against his side as a bolster before reaching over towards Eddie. Gently, he hauls the larger beastie towards him, eliciting some quiet grumbles but once Eds seems to understand that Steve’s thighs are to become his new pillow, Eds quiets quickly, purring loudly in pleasure and snuggling in, rolling over and pressing his face against Steve’s stomach. Steve sinks one hand into Eds’ hair, the other falling between his shoulder blades, skirting around the edges of where he knows Eddie’s wings lay flat against his back. He runs his fingers through dark curls, scraping blunt nails across his sweetheart’s scalp while Steve’s other hand rubs tender circles of delicate pressure against the knobs of Eddie’s spine through the yellow sweater he’s stolen from Steve’s closet. The purring sound increases in volume, the weight of his sweetheart doubling across his lap as the beastie goes boneless from Steve’s attention. 
“He’s very telling, isn’t he?”
“No,” Steve sighs, “he’s just affectionate, I think.”
Arlene scrunches her brow, “Really? Stevie–”
“Eddie died, mom.”
The sharp inhale he hears makes him squeeze his eyes shut as old pain rises to the surface. He hates thinking about it, but it’s the reality. Eddie is like this because he’d died in the Upside Down, and they’d–he’d–left Eddie there to rot.
“We… Spring Break,” Steve chokes out, “was the most recent incident. A- A girl was killed in front of him, mom. He- He had no idea about any of it before then, you know? He’d just run this dorky little nerd game club that the boys I babysit for are nutso about, and he was- he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was trying to help her, really. Wrong way to help her, with drugs, but I mean, his heart was in the right place.”
Steve chuckles, tugging a little on Eds’ curls and pulling a soft whine from his throat, the sound smothered in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. He barely catches it, but the vibration against his stomach makes him shiver with want. He stuffs it down, because now isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, but he logs it in his memory for later.
“Anyway, she- she died really awfully, mom. Like, body-horror awful. He ran, and I don’t blame him. It made it look like he’d killed her, though, which fucking blows. Hop and the government spooks are working on clearing his name, but we don’t know how long that’s going to take. Anyway… turns out what killed this girl in his home in front of him is tied to the shit that’s been happening since ‘83. We all got roped in, and well… in the end, we had to uh, split the party. He went with Dustin–” he looks up at his mom, brow furrowed, “I’ve told you about Dustin, right?”
Arlene smiles at him, eyes soft and incredibly sad through all the fondness scrawled across every inch of her face.
“Yeah, Stevie-bear,” she says, kindly, “you have. You said he’s like the little brother you always wish you’d had, even if he has… Oh, what did you say? Ah, right,” she chuckles, “the biggest ego you’ve ever seen.”
Steve snorts, “Y- Yeah, that’s Dusty, alright. Um, yeah. So… Eddie went with Dust, they were the distraction, cause there were these other things that uhhh–basically they were trying to block us from stopping the evil guy who we’d been calling Vecna or One… and they did, but something went wrong. So to protect Dustin, he–”
Steve chokes on his emotions, fear and nausea rising in his throat as memories of finding Dustin wailing over Eddie’s corpse bombard his mind, filling him with grief all over again. He has to focus on not hyperventilating because fuck, Eddie’s right here, in his lap, breathing and alive–changed but alive–and while he’d left Eddie behind, Steve had gone back, he’d gotten Eds out of there, he’d gotten Eddie out of Hell. He exhales, shaking.
“To protect Dustin, he made the sacrifice play… and he’d not made it.”
“Oh, Stevie…”
He feels the tears spilling, can hear the agony in his mom’s voice, the empathy in her tone, sympathy oozing on every word. He sniffles, roughly wiping his face with the back of his hand, laughing humorlessly as the tears continue to burble down his cheeks, fat and unrelenting.
“I- I’d had to drag Dust off of him… off his corpse, mom. He- He was kicking and screaming, his ankle was broken, and he didn’t care, he just–” Steve chokes on another sob, “–he just wanted Eddie to be alive, and there I was, dragging him away from- from one of the only other older male figures in his life. And- And I had to leave his body there to rot.”
Arlene is on her feet between one heartbeat and the next, falling onto the cushion beside Steve and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly and rocking them gently back and forth. He sobs.
“I- I had to leave him behind, mom!”
“Shh, Stevie, shhhh…” she soothes, her voice broken and threaded with sadness, “it sounds like you didn’t have a choice, baby, you’re just one man.”
“I- I should have tried harder, mom! I should never have left him there!”
“Oh, baby… oh my Baby Bear, no…” Arlene chokes out, her arms trembling where they clutch tight around him, “It’s not your fault, and I guarantee Eddie would tell you the exact same thing if he was awake right now.”
Steve breaks.
He falls apart, crumbling into his mom’s embrace as she holds him, quietly murmuring wordless comfort. The weight of Eddie’s body across his lap is grounding, and it keeps him from completely disconnecting from reality as he weeps, clutching Arlene’s button front so hard he’s almost afraid he might tear holes into the fabric. His mom’s fingers thread into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, stroking with firm passes that make him go boneless with a pained whine, his face sticky with salt from all the tears he’s cried as he buries it in his mom’s shoulder. He feels a tight pressure around his waist, and he lifts his head from where he’s had it smashed against Arlene’s body, looking down to see that Eddie has wound one of his arms around Steve, snuggling in close and deepening his sub-vocal purring noises to the point that Steve can feel the vibrations strongly through his skin.
“I had a lot of time to get to know Eddie today, Stevie.”
Steve lifts his gaze, turning swollen, teary eyes to his mother’s face. She looks determined, a stubborn set to her jaw that makes Steve sit up and listen, because for all that his mother is playful and kind, she’s also fierce and refuses to not be taken seriously when the situation calls for it. 
“Not a single thing that he told me has led me to believe that he would for a single second allow you to go on thinking that his death was in any way your fault.”
“But–”
“Nor would he allow you to beat yourself up for leaving him behind. I’m certain that he understands that you had to decide between a corpse and a living person–between his dead body and Dustin, who if I’m not mistaken, you both adore–which he would agree is a no-brainer decision, Stevie.”
“I–”
“Steve.”
He swallows, blinking away the remnants of tears at the fierce tone in his mom’s voice.
“Eddie is a kind boy. He would hate that you’re beating yourself up like this. And he’s back now, isn’t he? If I know you,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “and I like to think that I do, you probably went back for him, didn’t you?”
Speechless, all Steve can do is nod. Arlene sighs, hanging her head.
“Steve,” she says on an exhale, “that decision alone is… it’s amazing, incredibly kind and thoughtful. You went back to collect a body, I’m assuming, to bring closure to a mourning family and to a boy you love like a little brother. How am I doing so far?”
“P- Pretty good, actually,” he chuckles humorlessly.
Arlene hums, “Figured. So when you went back, what did you find?”
Steve takes a deep breath, collecting himself. She’s amazing at this, refocusing the conversations when they deviate off the ideal pathways. It’s something that makes her an excellent businesswoman–distracting anecdotes don’t work on her.
“Um. He wasn’t human anymore. Eds was… he was basically a feral monster. But- But I took a risk, and it… it worked. He recognized me, and um. I think he imprinted on me or something?”
“Oh?”
“Y- Yeah, he got, uhh. Really affectionate? Um, didn’t want to part from me, liked to be touching all the time, very protective.”
“Animalistic, would you say?”
“Y-Yeah, that’s a good way to put it, I guess.” Steve agrees, nodding, “He seemed to run almost exclusively off of like, instinct or something, and it wasn’t human instinct. Whatever happened to him down there, it mutated him into whatever he is now.”
His mom’s face twists slightly in a disagreeing expression, “He’s not that mutated, Stevie. A little different maybe, with the ears and tail and claws, but it’s not completely inexplicable or unable to be concealed.”
“It was… it was worse, before.”
“What do you mean, worse?”
Steve exhales, dropping his gaze back down to the sleeping sweetheart sprawled across his lap. His fingers tighten in their hold within dark curls, pulling a thick, needy sound from Eds’ throat that’s thankfully muffled into Steve’s shirt. 
“I mean… it was more obvious that he wasn’t–isn’t–human anymore, mom. He didn’t look even remotely human when we found him. He walked on four legs, his face was more bat-like than human… hell, you’ve seen how big he is. I thought he was going to kill me at first, but…”
“But he didn’t.”
Steve shakes his head, a melancholic smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards, “Like I said, he recognized me, or something, and bonded with me somehow. The affectionate nature just… never left, and he’s been really tactile ever since.”
“So, if he was more–” Arlene’s words are cut off by the dinging of a timer. He looks in tandem with her to glance through the doorway into the kitchen, before returning his gaze back to her face.
“... are you cooking something, mom?”
“Ah, shit,” she says, clapping her hands on her thighs and standing with a quiet grunt, “Yeah, I was. I was actually teaching your boy there the patented Chiara family bolognese before we started drinking.” 
Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest, because that’s…
“Mom…”
She smiles at him, a knowing look in her blue-green eyes as she raises an eyebrow at him, “Stevie, the poor thing was eating Spaghetti-Os. What kind of Italian-American would I be if I didn’t offer to feed him?”
“Fair point,” he laughs quietly, resuming his petting through Eddie’s soft curls, looking down at the boy in his lap, “but you… you were teaching him..?”
Arlene shrugs, “I just get the feeling that this one wants to stick around, Baby Bear,” she says as she turns and walks away to the kitchen, no doubt to check on the bolognese. 
Steve chews on his lower lip after she leaves the living room, wishing horribly that he knew what the two of them had talked about while he was at work, or what his mom had seen in Eddie that makes her so sure of him. The Chiara family recipes are a closely guarded secret, and he knows how tightly she holds them, how fiercely she protects them. That she was so willing to share the family recipes with Eddie, it seems impossible. She’s said before that she would share them with his future wife, but he’s definitely not made a marriage announcement. (Although it’s not like his overly-romantic hard-and-fast heart hasn’t imagined it already… Maybe she’s considering it good-as, because technically actual marriage is illegal for people like them–like mom and himself?) Steve shakes his head and waits for his mom to come back, focusing on the happy rumbles coming from the sleeping beast in his lap.
Arlene saunters back into the living room five minutes later, smelling of delicious meat sauce and humming with satisfaction. She settles back into her armchair and smiles at Steve.
“So. Where were we?”
“Uhhh,” he blinks, “we were talking about how I found Eds in the Upside Down.”
“Right,” she nods, “you said he bonded with you, or something of that nature and became affectionate and tactile, and that hasn’t faded.”
“Yeah.”
“You mentioned that he was… hmm.” Arlene trails off, her brows furrowed as she clearly searches for the right word, “Monstrous when you found him, correct?”
“Mmhm, yeah. He didn’t even really look human, his hair was more of a mane and his face wasn’t even remotely human-shaped, he kinda had a bat-like smushed nose. And like, two sets of ears? Giant talons and huge wings, his tail was even way longer and stronger too.”
Arlene squints, “So then, how exactly did he start to look more… human?”
Steve smiles, “That was all Dustin.”
“Oh? You let Dustin see him?”
“Of course I did. I knew he would be safe, Eds loves Dust just as much as I do. Plus, he did really well with Wayne so it seemed perfectly alright to let the little shithead come over… besides, I didn’t really want to let him go on hurting and mourning Eddie’s death if he didn’t have to, you know? It really messed him up, mom. I hated seeing him like that… it was like he’d lost a huge part of himself, and here I had a way to help him heal from that wound.”
His mom’s eyes are soft, her lips pulled into a gentle smile that’s dripping with love and Steve squirms under the weight of her gaze, heat rising up his neck and making his cheeks blotchy with embarrassment.
“A- Anyway,” he stutters, “Dust figured out he’s some strange variation on a vampire, and so we tried feeding him blood to test the theory. It worked, and so since then I’ve been feeding him my blood, which has been helping him regain a more human appearance.”
“Your blood?”
“It’s not very much! I don’t even get, like, dizzy after he feeds!” Steve raises the hand that’s not buried in Eds’ hair, waving it frantically, “It’s barely even like donating blood–I don’t think he takes anywhere near a pint every time he feeds.”
“Okay… and you’re being safe, right?”
“Mom, this… this isn’t like The Crisis, okay?” he whispers, “And even if it was, I’m not stupid enough to take any chances with my own health or his, I promise.”
“Ellsco headquarters might be in Boston, but I’ve already watched a few of my friends just… disappear, and I’d…” Arlene squares her shoulders, “I would hate to watch my son fade away like that. I just want you to be safe, okay? Do you know… do you know how to go and get tested, Bear?”
He nods, “I- I read about it in a zine I got from Indy.”
Arlene nods once, decisive, “I’ll go with you, if you want to get it done while I’m here.”
Steve smiles at her, wobbly and grateful, “Okay, mom. That’s weird, getting tested with your mom, but… I’m grateful.”
“We can make a day of it,” she says, waving a hand and settling back in her armchair, “get some breakfast somewhere, get the testing–I should get my testing updated, too, honestly–and then just shop around and enjoy ourselves!”
“Ah–but, what about Eds?” Steve bites his lip and looks down at the sleeping boy, “I don’t think I’d be able to just… leave him behind all day to go have fun without him.”
“Hm,” Arlene hums, “well, we can wait a bit, of course. Oh!” her eyes brighten as a devious smirk spreads across her face. Steve’s heart races in his chest as his nerves blare alarm bells in his head.
“Mom… what are you…”
“I bet I could just con Owens into doing it for us.”
“MOM!”
“What? The asshole owes me.” She scoffs and tosses her head, a childish pout on her lips, “He tried to keep me from my own son, what absolute gall.”
Steve snorts, “Okay, okay. Alright, mom.”
“Plus, wouldn’t it be better for Eddie’s blood to remain with someone we have leverage with, rather than some random lab people who might report any abnormalities?”
“Wait–you’re including Eds in our weird little mother-son testing day? Mom!”
She shrugs, “Well, isn’t it better for you to know now? I mean, if you two are gonna be–”
“SHHH! MOM!!” he whisper shrieks at her, his face flaming.
“What?” she blinks, false innocence across her face as her lips threaten to break into a cheesing grin, “He’s asleep, he’s not listening.”
“Jesus H. Christ, you can’t just say that!! Besides,” he grumbles, “just because I like him doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, even if he has been really tactile and affectionate, okay?”
Steve hears the sound of skin slapping against skin and he looks up at his mom, brows furrowing at the sight of her with her hand pressed over her face. She groans, the sound pained and he wonders if she just smacked herself in the forehead or something, which is pretty unlike her.
“Uhh, mom? …You okay?”
“Peachy,” she grouses out. “Stevie-bear, light of my life; I adore you, but sometimes I want to shake you until your head flies off.”
“Um.”
Arlene peels her hand away from her face, leveling Steve with the flattest look he’s ever seen her shoot him before. She heaves a great sigh, shaking her head.
“You’re pretty convinced he’s not interested in you like that then, Stevie?”
“I mean…” he swallows, his blotchy blush filling in further as more heat floods his face, “I would be really happy if he were interested, but… I don’t, um. I don’t think he is? He’s been physically affectionate, but from what I’ve heard from Wayne, I don’t think he’s like us.”
She arches an eyebrow, “You know sexuality is fluid, so why are you being so rigid with him? Who’s to say that he couldn’t be interested in you?”
Steve chews on his lower lip, fidgeting with his handful of Eddie’s curls, “You’re… you’re not wrong, I guess. But, it sort of feels like I’m forcing my feelings on him when I think about it like that, you know?”
“Not really, Stevie.”
He huffs, a puff of air blowing stray bangs back off his forehead. “It’s like I’m taking what I want to see in him and forcing it to be the truth, even if it’s really not, confusing my own desires with what’s actually there.”
“Mixing fantasy and reality?”
He snaps, pointing at his mom as she puts words to his thoughts. “Yes! That!”
Arlene sighs, “I suppose I can understand falling for the straight person. It’s definitely happened before, and I’ve only seen you two interact very briefly, but…” she trails off, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Steve watches his mom carefully. It’s telling how selective she’s being in choosing her words, it’s obvious she thinks she knows something, and again he wonders just what she and Eds talked about while he was at work. 
“I mean, you saw us interact while Eds was drunk, mom.”
She waves him off, “In vino veritas, Stevie.”
He rolls his eyes at her and waits for her to finally come up with what she wants to say.
“I don’t think it’s as far from reality as you think it may be.” She says quietly, fixing him with a serious look, “He clearly adores you, and the way he spoke about you when we were talking felt like it went beyond just friendship to me.”
Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, that tiny flame of hope sputtering and sparking where he’s kept it safe behind his ribs.
“I don’t think it would be completely far-fetched to maybe consider testing those waters a bit more, Stevie. If you really like him the way I think you do,” she raises an eyebrow as his blush darkens, “then you should maybe show him more. Turn up the charm, give him more of a taste of what you have to offer.”
“I–”
“Steve, Eddie is a sweet boy.” She says this as a statement, like she knows it’s a fact, and it soothes something deep in his brain–some anxious doubt lurking around at the edges and making him feel off kilter. With the easing of it, the ground beneath his feet is no longer lurching, suddenly stabilized and solid once again. 
“I spoke to him a lot today and I can confidently say that you wouldn’t lose him if you were to admit any feelings. Or if that’s too much too fast for you, just being more obvious about how you feel about him wouldn’t end with him outright rejecting those advances. Hell, you might be surprised.”
“But…”
“Stevie,” Arlene interrupts him, leaning forward in her seat, “you should just do what you want, okay? Just, treat him like you would if he was just one of the girls you dated before.”
“He’s so much more than them, though…”
“Then show him that, Stevie.”
He swallows, nerves alight with possibilities as that tiny flame grows just a little stronger where it remains safe in his heart. Hope bubbles in his chest, feeding it steadily as he contemplates what his mom has just told him. She’s more experienced in this sort of thing than him, he has to admit–queer romance is out of his wheelhouse, as this is his first actual attempt. And he’s terrified still, but there’s a thrill that runs through his veins now that wasn’t there before, beating in tandem with the pulse of the flickering flame behind its ivory cage. 
“You- You really think I should? That I- That I have a chance?”
“I do, Baby Bear. I really, really do.” She says, a smile spreading across her face, “I just want to see you happy, and it’s so obvious how happy he makes you, even now.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Any time, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, momma.”
Arlene flops back in the armchair, gusting out a breath, “Lord almighty, I am emotionally drained right now, you take years off my gay little life, Stevie, I swear.”
“H- Hey!”
She cackles, an ugly braying donkey laugh that makes Steve warm with nostalgia. He joins in after a moment, his own burbling chuckles spilling out of his lungs. It’s nice, sitting with his mom and his sweetheart in the living room, just spending time together. The two of them chat quietly, Steve stroking Eds’ hair as he finally fills her in on what has happened in Hawkins since ‘83. A lot of what he tells Arlene upsets her, but she takes it all in and handles the shock well. She migrates over to the couch from the armchair somewhere in the middle of his retelling of the events at Starcourt, and holds his hand tightly as he talks, his voice shaking. By the end of the events of Spring Break and what he knows about the whole Russian rescue mission and the California crew’s cross country adventure, she’s holding him tightly. She solemnly promises to be more involved in his life from now on and he pretends not to notice the way her tears soak the shoulder of his shirt or the way she has to forcibly collect herself afterwards. 
Arlene transitions their discussion fluidly into an easy chat after she’s finished asking questions about the Upside Down and all the crazy shit tied to it, keeping the discussion mundane as she fills him in on some of the upcoming projects Ellsco has taken on. A lot of her work is confidential, but not all of it is as the Fortune 500 company has its fingers in lots of pies–she relishes in telling him about a few passion projects that haven’t required her to sign a thousand and one NDAs. She tells him how Gramma and Grampy are doing, how Grampy is enjoying his partial retirement now that she’s taken over. She also mentions reconnecting with his uncle Ben–Steve would swear his mom had a sister, not a brother, but he’s probably just remembering wrong–and how they’d met up on one of her business trips to Miami a few years ago by chance. It’s wonderful. Steve finds himself relaxing as they converse easily back and forth, sharing the parts of their lives they’ve missed over the past few years.
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Steve is alone in the living room again, Arlene having just gone into the kitchen to check on the bolognese a final time, enjoying the quiet as he cards his fingers through dark curls, lightly dragging his nails against the skin of Eddie’s scalp in the tranquil atmosphere. He feels the body laid across his lap begin to stir after a time and he casts his gaze down to the boy he’s been playing pillow for, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Mmn–” Eds grumbles, his voice heavy with sleep as his strong arms squeeze around Steve’s middle, “–S’vie?”
“Good morning, lazybones,” Steve murmurs in reply, chuckling. “You awake now?”
Eddie blinks open bleary hickory eyes, drowsy and clouded as he turns his gaze up at Steve; twisting from the prone position he’s adopted, splayed across Steve’s thighs. His jaw cracks in a wide yawn that exposes his sharp fangs and long tongue before he buries his face against Steve’s stomach again, humming happily.
“M’wake,” Eddie mumbles, “y’r warm…”
“I’m warm?” Steve snickers, tugging gently on a small handful of curls in his amusement. The action pulls a thick sound from Eds’ throat, yanking at a burning thread of desire deep in Steve’s core that he steadfastly ignores in favor of releasing his hold on Eddie’s hair. “I’m flattered, but you’ve been sleeping for a few hours now and dinner is going to be ready soon. Aren’t you hungry yet?”
The face Eddie makes in response is cute; all pouty and crinkled in his disapproval. He’s clearly not in favor of moving off of Steve. “I’m–”
The sudden rumbling of Eds’ stomach cuts him off, the sound well timed and harmonizing with the gurgling of Steve’s own stomach when it makes itself known moments later. Eddie jolts away from Steve’s body, the dramatic reaction pulling a laugh from Steve. The embarrassment that scrawls its way across Eds’ face is plain to see in the pink flush that colors his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, reaching even the tips of his pointed ears. It’s unbearably cute–he wants to nip at them.
“I… I guess I’m kinda hungry,” he admits, shyly looking away from Steve.
“Hm,” Steve drawls, smiling fondly at his sweetheart, “I mean, I’m pretty hungry too. Mom told me you helped her make the sauce, so I guess I’m pretty excited to see how it turned out. Especially since you had a hand in it.”
That pretty pink flush goes darker to Steve’s delight, and he eagerly watches as Eddie fidgets in place, absurdly pleased that he doesn’t try to move out of Steve’s space. He loves how close they are, all pressed together like this. He’s starved for touch, and Eds’ is his favorite of all. It always feels like a dream and sometimes he has to remind himself that no, it’s reality. He’s just this lucky. 
“Arlene did most of the wo- work,” Eddie mumbles, “I just th- threw stuff in the pot and st- stirred it sometimes.”
“That’s still helping, silly.” Steve chastises kindly, “It counts.”
Eds looks up at him with huge hickory eyes, sparkling and wide, gleaming with hope. “It… does?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, unable to contain his fondness–all the love he has for this boy. He can feel the way it colors his smile, the way it pulls at the edges of his eyes, the way his shoulders slope in Eds’ direction like he can’t bear to turn away from him. He thinks about what his mom said about him, how she doesn’t think he would lose Eddie if he confessed… how she thinks he could easily get away with upping the ante, so to speak. He chews the inside of his cheek, excited anxiety brewing in his gut at the thought of turning up the charm–of wooing the man he wants, the way he wants to.
There’s a lot that could go wrong if he did decide to really start turning on the charm with Eds. So far, he’s just tried to- to be nice… to be kind to him; to be a safe harbor when Eds feels anxious, and a place he knows he can come to rest his head when the world feels too big, too mean, or just too much. Nothing he’s done so far falls within the typical big displays of romance, but that’s okay because it’s the tiny acts of devotion that Steve loves best. He loves being able to do things for his partners, to show them how much he adores them, how often they cross his mind. He does things for them without a second thought because he wants to make their life easier, he wants to ease whatever burdens them if only for a short while–he wants to integrate himself into their life in any way he can, even if that means he’s only there in the capacity as a meat shield or a workhorse. If he can make himself useful, helpful, to them… that’s enough for him. 
He always wants to do more, of course. He wants to pamper, to take care of them, but he’s been accused more than once of being overbearing; of being needy–of being clingy. He smothers those urges as best he can, because he’s learned that it’s not what most people want from him. Does he hope that one day he’ll find someone who will indulge him in those urges? Yes, of course. But he’s aware it’s far fetched and selfish. But with Eddie it’s so hard… with Eddie, he’s greedy. He wants all of it–he wants to wash his hair, wants to cook his lunches, his dinners. He wants to hold him in his arms on the couch and watch bad TV until he falls asleep, and wants to make him feel safe when he wakes from nightmares of monochrome skies and unfriendly landscapes. He wants to take care of him, to help him regain his human appearance so he has a chance to return to society, a chance to be himself amongst other people again. He wants to see Eddie spread his metaphorical wings again, prance on the cafeteria tables of the world and take them all by storm–he’s a force of nature and to see such a beautiful creature caged and forced behind closed doors is a tragedy he refuses to see play out any longer than it has to. He will not clip those metaphorical wings, no matter how badly he wants Eddie to stay with him.
What’s the saying? If you love it, let it go?
He’ll just have to hope Eddie will want to return to him when his shackles are finally shattered.
Take a chance, hope that his mom is right. The risk is worth the reward, after all.
Steve smiles down at Eddie, finally releases the tenuous hold on his control. He feels it when his smile easily slides into a far more flirtatious territory than he’s previously allowed it to venture with Eds; a smile he’s only ever used on women he’s wanted to date before now. He gently grasps Eddie’s chin, the firm grip pulling a stuttering breath around fangs and from between plush, parted lips as Steve lifts his half-monster’s jaw to force their eyes to meet. He watches with a hungry gaze as hickory eyes widen, as he leans in closer until his nose just barely brushes against his sweetheart’s. He can feel the way Eds’ breath quickens; hot against his cheek, ghosting against his own mouth. It’s tantalizing, but he can be patient… it will be worth the wait. Steve knows how to play this back-and-forth game of seduction and desire, and he’s going to play it right with Eddie. He’s a clumsy flirt in front of other people and cheesy beyond belief, but sometimes he hits the correct notes and he thinks he’s got Eddie’s number right.
“It does count, sweetheart,” he rumbles out, his voice heavy and deep with desire. “Did you know,” he adds, conversationally, like their proximity isn’t boiling the blood in his veins with want, “that no one aside from my mom or my Gramma has ever cooked for me, before?”
“N- No- No one?” Eddie breathes out, his voice no louder than a whisper as he stumbles over his words. Steve relishes in the way his inhuman pupils have dilated, the way his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in the meager space between them. Steve licks his lips, immediately clocking the way Eddie’s gaze locks onto and tracks the path his tongue takes with something like wildness behind those dark, hickory eyes.
“No one,” he replies, his lips just barely brushing against Eddie’s cheek as he speaks. He can feel the way the skin of his neck tightens while Eddie swallows; hears the clicking sound his throat makes at the action. Steve feels alive in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s forgotten how fun it is to flirt when he really wants someone–when there isn’t an audience to make him embarrassed about the corny lines he tends to spew.
“You’re my first, Eds.”
He pulls away from Eddie after his statement, doing his best to hide how affected he is by the starstruck look on his half-monster’s face. Steve feels like he could fly because holy shit, mom was right? The way Eddie sits there, eyes wide and dark, breathing raggedly with the prettiest of blushes coloring his skin from the tips of his pointed ears all the way down his throat to where his collar bones disappear into the collar of that stolen sweater. The delicate color highlighting the planes of his skin is… it’s gorgeous, and Steve wants to sink his teeth into the curve of his neck, wants to bite and leave marks along the angles of his jaw. Eddie looks dazed, one clawed hand clutching at his chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath it as he stares at Steve with glossy, wet eyes like he’s seeing him anew; a deity made flesh, something to worship in reality. His lips are still parted, plush and glistening–begging to be kissed, and it takes all of his willpower to resist, but somehow, miraculously, he manages. Eddie looks like a dream, a temptation demanding to be ravished, and ohhh, how Steve wants.
Instead, he gets up off the couch.
He relishes in the keening whine that tears out of Eds’ throat as he steps away, putting more distance between them, allows himself to delight in the surge of pride that swirls in his gut as Eddie sways unbidden in his direction, instinctively trying to close the distance without realizing he’s even doing it. He can’t help the smug way his flirtatious smirk pulls up on one side at the way Eds’ hand flexes on nothing, desperate to touch that which Steve has taken away. Seeing all of it painted in technicolor before him is the greatest gift he could receive and he feels settled–assured that he’s making the right calls. Because, yeah. Yes, he’s absolutely going to take this leap of faith. 
Eddie is worth the fear, the unknown, the potential loss. He’s worth everything.
And so far, it’s looking like his mom was right in that he’s playing a winning game.
He’s got nothing to lose, but everything to gain.
“Well?” he says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie and making a “come hither” gesture with his index finger, “Are you gonna come with me, eat the dinner that you made? Or are you going to languish alone on the couch all night?”
Eddie shakes his head frantically, a squeaking sound tumbling from his mouth as he all but throws himself off the couch and stumbles to his feet. He’s all baby-deer legs and Bambi-eyes as he scrambles to get to Steve’s side; all flailing limbs and pinwheeling tail, desperately trying to counter balance his lurching weight. Steve starts walking backwards towards the door to the kitchen, never taking his eyes off his awkward sweetheart. He lets Eddie get close, lets him think he’s won, lets him think he’s caught Steve–but it’s a ruse and Steve swiftly slips out of reach. It’s a fun little game, and he enjoys the tiny noises of frustration that slip from Eds’ throat when Steve manages to just evade a grasping claw, keeping barely out of Eddie’s range as they slowly make their way towards the kitchen.
When his ankle catches on something on the ground Steve’s eyes widen, his heart lurching in his chest with momentary panic. He pauses, looking down to spot the stray blanket that somehow managed to make its way into the pathway to the kitchen. He jerks his gaze back to Eddie when he feels a strong, talon-tipped hand grip his shirt. The sudden impact throws him off balance, and with the way the blanket hooks around his ankle, he flings his arms out in an attempt to steady himself. He ends up digging his fingers into the meat of Eddie’s arms, but his body’s momentum seems to have caught them both off guard because the next thing he knows, he’s hitting the ground–although the ground feels softer than he remembers?
He blinks open eyes he doesn’t remember closing, staring down at the dazed, flushed face of his half-monster. Those huge eyes are hooded and dark, as his breath comes hot and panting. His talon-tipped hands clench where they rest against Steve’s sides, just above his hips, and one talon has slipped beneath Steve’s shirt, grazing the skin of his flank. 
Oh.
Steve flushes, because fuck Eddie looks delicious like this and how they got there is… he must have spun them mid fall to take the impact, since he’s so much larger than Steve is. Bigger and yet so… so submissive, so docile, so sweet.
Shit, that’s really hot… and also stupidly precious.
Eddie stares up at him, blinking hazy hickory eyes, and Steve finally realizes how close their faces are. His breath shudders in his lungs, because oh god, he wants to take Eddie apart, to hear him whine and cry and fall to pieces beneath him–
“Wow. Either you’re the fastest moving guy on the planet, or you’re just some sort of klutzy flirting savant, Bear.”
The sudden, amused comment delivered with such dry humor yanks a surprised yelp from Steve. He jolts upright as his most-hated blotchy blush spreads across his face and down his chest, and he glares at his mom where she leans with her arms crossed against the door frame to the kitchen. She looks smug, tapping the wooden spoon she holds in one hand absently against one arm, a “told-you-so” expression smeared across her face.
“Mom!” he barks, embarrassment oozing from every pore. He’s about to yell at her to go away, but he snaps his mouth shut when he clocks the quiet, pathetic mewling that’s coming from Eddie. The sound sends a rush of molten heat down his spine and Steve jerks his head downward, his gaze locking onto the boy he has pinned under him. His eyes widen at the absolute vision beneath him, greedily taking in the way Eddie’s chest is heaving, a furious flush coloring his cheeks and throat, his head tossed to the side. His hands have dropped from Steve’s hips to the carpet–one is clenched between his fangs in a meager attempt to muffle his noises. Only then does he finally notice the way his thigh is pressed hard against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans, and–
Ohhhh. He’s–
Fuck.
Steve swallows and slowly pulls his leg away, a muffled, gasping whine tumbling from around the finger in Eds’ teeth, between his parted lips, soft but not silent. Steve can see the way those denim-clad thighs tremble, the way the claws of his other hand sink into the carpet pile, skin across his knuckles taut and locked with tension. And… And Steve did that to him… just by—
—Jesus H. Christ, that’s so fucking hot I’m going to die and my mother is right there goddamnit—
“Mom… we’ll be there in a few, okay?”
“Okay,” she drawls, amusement in her tone, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh my– fucking, shoo, woman!”
Cackling, Arlene retreats into the kitchen. “Spaghetti’s almost done, better hurry up!”
“Okay, mom! Jesus!”
Steve sits back on his heels, giving Eddie some space to calm down as he drops his head into his hands, completely embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position by his mother. He groans to himself, because goddamnit, everything had been going so well up until then, too! He hadn’t made a fool of himself yet, his flirting was going great! He’s a cheesy, corny dork, but it’d been working! Playful, fun… and then he’d had to go and trip over a fucking blanket like a dumbass–
“Steve..?”
He jolts upright, staring at Eddie with wide eyes. “You okay?” he immediately asks, chewing his lower lip. He’s honestly more concerned about whether or not he crossed a line with the whole… knee-to-dick-accidental-frottage than anything else.
Eddie blinks at him, clearly stunned, before a shy smile spreads across his face along with the darkening of his delicately-pink blush. He tugs a chunk of his curls in front of his mouth, averting his gaze as he pulls his shoulders up. “I- I’m okay. A- Are you hurt?”
“No, no, Eds! Not at all, thanks to you catching me like that…”
Eddie preens a little, shifting in place as his flush darkens further, “Couldn’t let you get hurt…”
“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. Okay?”
Eddie nods, “M’okay. Promise.”
“Good.” Steve nods back decisively before chuckling. “Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves in front of my mother, ready to go get bullied by her while we eat delicious food?”
Eddie’s grin is wide, exposing all his fangs in all their glory as he nods. “Yes!”
Steve stands up and extends a hand down to Eds with a smile. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”
Eddie takes his hand, his grin softening as he looks up at Steve with a tender affection that makes the little flame behind Steve’s ribs grow just a little bit more.
Yeah…
Steve thinks to himself later, his heart full to bursting as he watches his mom and the man he hopes to build something with interact like they’re already family.
…the risk will definitely be worth the reward.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 
I’d be a fool not to try.
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GO STEVIE!!! YOU GO GET YO MANS!!!!
hello everyone i am deceased, my ghost is writing this.
fucking hELL these past checks calendar NINE days have been actual literal nightmare fuel jesus h christ on a fucking unicycle i would like to sleep for a thousand years now please and thank you.
anyway! this ended up being uhhhhh. longer than i predicted. but hopefully that makes up for the wait. we're gonna get into some more meat of this bad boy in the next installment i think, but we'll see if it doesn't run away from me hahaha
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the support banners (and the content warning banners) are from here! they're beautiful, aren’t they? So in love with them. cafekitsune has made some gorgeous stuff. please check them out if you're a creator!
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I also have a list of folks who didn’t ask specifically to be tagged for future installments, but have been extremely enthusiastic about the story from the beginning based on their reblogs and/or replies to the posts. So if you’re on that list, unless you tell me otherwise, I'll continue putting your name in the replies. You can also follow the story tag, which is #Take Me Home steddie fic where you might find my posted sneak peeks or wip updates in between the actual parts, or you can even just follow me, @hobbyistauthor for all my nonsense!
If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.
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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍
𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔
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show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.
⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of death, crying, sadness, physical pain, and parental neglect
A/N: i deeply apologize, i felt i needed to set up more context and establish Luke and readers relationship more before getting to capture the flag, i PROMISE it’ll be in this next chapter or the one after that💕
“Castellan!” 
Sixteen-year-old Luke’s head snapped up abruptly to see his brother, Connor Stoll running towards him frantically. If Connor, who was usually lighthearted and cheerful, was panicked, something was really wrong. 
“What’s going on?” Luke stood up, abandoning the art project he was helping a younger camper with. “Is someone hurt?”
“I-I’m not sure. I just heard a girl screaming in the woods, and calling for your help.” 
Luke’s skin went cold. He knew exactly who was in trouble. 
The only child of Thanatos, his best friend.
Connor beckoned for Luke to follow him. The two sons of Hermes sprinted towards the woods, trying to conceal their fear. 
Luke’s heart pounded aggressively in his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose another loved one, it would destroy him.
Finally, Connor came to a halt and pointed into the trees. “She’s that way.” 
“Thank you,” Luke said breathlessly. Running through the woods and ignoring the stares of the nymphs, he strained to hear anything that could lead him to you.
Then, he heard a muffled sob coming from a nearby clearing. 
Cutting the stray branches aside with Backbiter, Luke practically flew through the trees until he spotted you, kneeling on the ground. 
He froze. You were weeping, holding your face in your hands. Your body trembled, but he couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or fear. You hardly ever cried, you were a mellow person for the most part and rarely had emotional outbursts, so seeing you like this worried him immensely.
But most shockingly, you had black wings protruding from your back.  
They didn’t look like bird wings. They had the shape of angel wings, but instead of feathers, they were made of black smoke that swirled gently and occasionally omitted wisps into the air.  
“W-Wh-“ Luke stammered, struggling to find words. “How?”
“I don’t know!” you cried, refusing to look at him. “They just…started appearing. It felt like someone was digging hot knives into my shoulder blades. I ran out here so that nobody would notice them, but then Connor found me.” 
Your best friend knelt down in front of you, gently uncovering your face by taking your hands in his gently. His hands were calloused and rough, thanks to years of rigorous training. But they were comforting nonetheless. 
“Are they still hurting?” he asked, instinctively checking your pulse by pressing your wrist carefully. 
“No…I’m just scared, Luke. I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, feeling your intrusive thoughts spill out. “What if they don’t go away? What will everyone think of me?” 
Luke sighed. “If they don’t go away, it’ll just be another thing that makes you you. And it doesn’t define you, or take away from the person you already are. If other people can’t look past your new features, they’re fucking idiots who aren’t worth your attention anyways.” 
“But…I feel like a monster. And even worse, I look even more like my father. He has wings too, I’ve read enough about him to know that for sure. I don’t want anything to do with him, why did he make this happen to me?”
“I don’t know why it happened,” Luke said honestly. “We can talk to Chiron and see if he has any advice. He won’t judge you, you know that. And I promise you’ll always have me. I’ll be your friend, whether you have wings or not.”  
Wiping away your tears, you felt the painful feeling in your chest begin to subside. Knowing that he didn’t see you any differently despite this new development settled your nerves, at least a little. Sure, the other campers may see you as monstrous, as a terrifying mutation that needed to be avoided at all costs. All of the new friends you’d made over the past couple years may leave you, but you would survive.
At least you had Luke.
Your Luke.
________________________________________________
After calming down, Luke lead you to Chiron’s office in The Big House. Luckily, the rest of the campers were at lunch, and nobody saw your very noticeable new features.
Chiron wasn’t nearly as surprised as Luke had been concerning your wings. “I suspected that they would appear around this time,” he said. “Your father has passed down yet another one of his gifts to you.” 
You certainly didn’t seen the wings as a gift. They were a curse, yet another thing that made you appear monstrous compared to other demigods.
“So, are they just there forever now?” you asked, fighting down the bitterness in your voice.
Chiron thought for a moment. “Wish them to go away, and see what happens.”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 
“Just try,” Chiron insisted. “Your willpower is more powerful than you know.” 
Relenting, you shut your eyes, focusing on your disdain for your wings. Desperation and frustration overtook your thoughts, and you felt your head begin to throb painfully.
Thankfully, the sound of Luke calling your name snapped you out of it. 
“They’re gone,” Chiron’s low voice declared. 
Sighing in relief, you opened your eyes and looked at the centaur standing before you.
“I advise you to spend time learning to control your new features,” he said. “You must discover the extent of the abilities they give you. Otherwise, they may pose a threat to your safety, as well as the well-being of the other campers.” 
You nodded, despite the feeling of dread creeping over you. “I will. But I may miss some camp activities for the next few days.” 
“That’s alright,” Chiron said. “I’ll let Mr. D know that you are caring for yourself, and need adequate time to do so.”
“I’ll accompany you,” Luke said immediately. You shook your head.
“You have responsibilities, Luke. Who else is going to run sparring classes for the younger campers? Who else is going to make sure the Hermes kids attend archery practice and don’t set a fire somewhere?”
“I’ll have Chris take over,” he said. “He can handle it.”  
“But-“
“I’m not changing my mind,” Luke said firmly. “I’m helping you, and that’s final.”
Gods, as much as it sometimes irritated you, you loved that he was so stubborn. 
________________________________________________
After a few days that felt like an eternity, you came to the realization that you’d gained more power than you initially predicted. 
You could fly. That was to be expected; what else would the wings be for?
You could turn invisible. You only discovered this because a howl coming from the depths of the woods startled you. When you looked down, you could no longer see your body. 
And finally, your senses had heightened considerably. You could tell when someone or something died, even if it was outside the borders of camp. Beforehand, you could only sense it if they were within close parameters. 
The change was scary, but exhilarating at the same time. You knew that once you got used to your new abilities, you’d be even more intimidating than you already were.
Luke had been a huge help. He accompanied you while you experimented with your powers in the woods, but respected your request for him to keep his distance. He would check in on you at every meal, and made sure you ate an adequate amount. At night before bed, he sat with you on your mattress in Cabin 11, listening to you ramble on and on about various frustrations. He understood your anger at your father better than anyone else. He shared the same resentment towards Hermes. 
When you’d tired yourself out, he would bid you goodnight, give you a sweet kiss on the forehead, and climb into his own bed. And within minutes, he was out cold. 
But you stayed awake, staring at the worn-down wooden ceiling of your Hermes’s cabin. 
The fear you’d felt when your wings had first appeared had faded considerably. You felt powerful, invincible almost. 
And with the best swordsman in three centuries at your side, there was nothing in the world for you to be afraid of.  
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Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! Btw, the powers I gave the reader are based on Thanatos’s abilities according to Rick Riordan’s version of him.
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sentientcave · 18 hours
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It's WIP Wednesday once again! I've got some Impound for you because it's been a while and it's still not finished (I've been working on Sparrow instead and just hit 55k today which is pretty exciting).
Contains: Blue collar Simon, Price as a cop, petty nonsense from men who should know better, but they're unfortunately not very emotionally intelligent
That’s when he saw the cruiser, parked on the street out front, too close to the fire hydrant.
Not blocking it, exactly, but still too close. If it were anyone else, he’d’ve let it slide, since the fire crew would still be able to get to the hydrant. But it was Price, and he’d just warned him about this very thing.
He pulled out his phone. “Hey, Johnny?” he said as soon as the line picked up, not waiting for Johnny to speak. “Send Roach out to city hall. Got someone parked by a fire ‘ydrant.”
“Fer fuck’s sake, Si, isnae the feckin’ cop again?”
“It is. I’ll come round to handle the paperwork. Won’t make you do it.”
“Awlright, but dinnae let him catch Roach at it neither. Ye know he’ll say somethin’ stupid and get his arse arrested.”
“Oh I know. Lad dun’t know ‘ow to keep his trap shut.” Simon hung up and headed back inside, hardly paying attention to the meeting, his eyes flicking back to Price over and over again, and holding whenever he found Price looking back. It was clear that neither of them retained anything said, too busy glaring at each other over the heads of the people sitting between them.
Simon got out of the building first, and stood off to the side to smoke another cigarette, leaning against a tree where he could get a good view of Price’s reaction when he came out to find his cruiser missing yet again.
He didn’t disappoint. He came out of the building a few minutes after the initial crush of humanity, talking to Kate and Nikolai. Price stopped in his tracks a little ways out the door, focused in on where his cruiser was supposed to be, and immediately scanned the vicinity, his whole body going rigid, hands tightening into fists, shoulders squared up for war, jaw set like concrete. His blazing blue eyes found Simon, and he marched over without saying a word, leaving Nikolai and Kate looking confused, and then amused when they realized what must have happened.
Price stopped in front of him, fury radiating off of him like heat off an engine, all that energy practically warping the space between them. “What’s your fuckin’ problem, mate?” he asked, jabbing a finger against Simon’s chest.
“No problem. I was ‘ere the whole time, wasn’t I?” Simon batted Price’s hand away, resisting the impulse to punch him for having the nerve to lay his bloody hands on him in the first place. Price was lucky that Simon was so rehabilitated now. That he had his temper on a good strong leash these days. “If you din’t want to get towed, you shunt’ve parked there. Not my problem if my people know ‘ow to do their jobs and you ‘aven’t got a clue ‘ow to do yours.”
“You don’t want to start a war with me, son,” Price growled.
Simon leaned forward, the barest curve of a smile on his lips, eyes narrowed and flinty. To his credit, Price didn’t flinch, didn’t move back, didn’t drop his eyes. He wasn’t intimidated by Simon’s size, like a lesser man would be. “You don’t want to start a war with me, old man.” He wasn’t sure there was much difference in their ages, if any, but if Price was going to try and talk down to him with the son shite than Simon was going to shovel it right back, like he was an unruly teenager in a rebellious phase. “I’m not goin’ to be pushed around by a fuckin’ badge. You don’t get special treatment because you wear a bloody uniform.”
Price’s jaw clenched even tighter. He had an impressive scowl, one that could probably level anyone else. “Watch yourself,” he grit out, like each word cost him something to force from his mouth.
Simon leaned a little closer. Their noses were almost touching. He could feel the currents of air stirred up by Price’s breath on his own face. “Or what?” he asked.
“Or else,” Price said, too angry to come up with anything resembling a real threat.
Simon pulled back with an amused grunt, and turned away, glancing over his shoulder dismissively. “See you as the impound lot, hm? I’ll be waitin’.”
In the end, it was Gaz who came around to pick up the cruiser.
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pimosworld · 3 days
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Pairing-Joel Miller x reader
Summary-Joel conquers his fear to watch you walk across that stage.
CW-18+, No outbreak Joel Miller, unspecified age gap, reader is in college but can be any age, No description of reader other than they wear heels, Joel has agoraphobia, mentions of panic attack, mentions of large crowds and over coming that fear, reader is highly decorated, mentions of spicy times but no smut, angst, fluff, more fluff, Joel being obsessed with you.
WC-1.3k
A\N- This idea literally came to me in a dream so it’s just another procrastination for my other wips 😂. I write while I help my mom with chemo and It helps writing fluffy stuff so I hope you enjoy.
[Joel Miller Masterlist][Main Masterlist]
Not beta read
Collegiate
Joel’s not a fan of large crowds- well the crowds don’t have to be very large. More than ten people and he starts to sweat a little. Too many people to talk to. Too many chances at getting stuck in conversations he could care less about. 
  He’s starting to feel it now as he weaves his way through the sea of families. Groups of faces that look similar, matriarchs and patriarchs seated and gushing about their babies who aren’t really babies anymore at this high level of educational accomplishment. 
  One too many old ladies pointing him out as he finds an open seat hoping he can pretend not to hear the hushed whispers of ‘he must be married’ or ‘if i was a younger woman’. 
  He rubs his hand nervously along the back of his neck as he remembers those breathing techniques you told him about. You’d said the first time you noticed him gripping your hand a little tighter at the farmers market or the time at the movies when he wouldn’t stop checking the exits that maybe he had a little phobia. He can’t remember the name right now, maybe arachnophobia or somethin’. You are always so much better than him with words and explanations. 
  Right now though he breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth as the sound of the crowd dies down a little. 
  The announcements start for the English majors and his eyes are focused on the decorated caps. You’d kept it a secret all week while you were getting ready, promising to show him when it was all over. The ridiculous amount of gems and glue had him a bit worried of what the outcome would look like. 
  He’s trying to care about the other names but in reality there’s just one he wants to hear come over the loudspeaker. It drones on as each person smiles and shakes the hand of the men and women who selfishly collect money from them when they’ve yet to get their lives started. The woos from the families lull him into a sense of calmness and he nearly misses it when they announce you. 
  His ears perk up at the last name Miller and he’s not fully expecting to see you as you squeeze the hand of your friend next to you and head towards the stage. He’s still getting used to hearing his last name attached to yours and the pride swells in him as you cross the stage beaming from ear to ear as you accept your diploma. You don’t bother searching the crowd for family you know wouldn’t care and hasn’t cared in some time about your life and personal achievements. 
  He’s made it more than clear to you that he’s all the family you need. When he sees the way you are with his brother and Sarah he can’t help but think about what a loss it is for your estranged family. Their loss is his gain and he’d be a fool to let you slip away now that he’s got you branded with his name. 
  As you take your seat again he gets a good look at your cap, the sun catches it just right as the sparkles shine along the edges. The loud laugh that erupts from him startles the old woman next to him and he has to excuse himself as he covers his smile with his hand. Tommy will get a kick out of this later on when he sees it. He’s busy finishing up at the construction site so he can join the rest of them at the surprise party that Sarah and Maria insisted on throwing you at the last minute. 
  He steps out into the hallway with some of the other families as the ceremonies come to a close. He’s so excited and anxious to see you that he’s completely forgotten about his claustrophobia or whatever it’s called. Probably still the wrong name but he doesn’t really care as he starts to see the people filing out of the auditorium and running to greet their families. 
  You come out almost last walking hand in hand with one of your friends and your cap clutched between your fingers in the other. You give her a kiss on the cheek as you part ways and smile to yourself no doubt relieved and proud of yourself for finally finishing. He can finally get a good look at your ensemble, your shoulder adorned with all sorts of different color ropes and sashes. He listened to you explain what each one meant to Sarah the other night over dinner and he couldn’t have been more excited to think about her wearing them one day soon. 
  He can tell you didn’t expect him to be there as you make your way towards the exit, you stiffen as he gently places his hands on your shoulders. 
  “Where ya goin so fast darlin’?” You gasp before turning around as he cautiously kisses your neck, sending shivers down your spine. 
  He can smell your new perfume, the one he got you as an early graduation present. You were still so stubborn about asking for things you wanted and he saw you eyeing it in the mall and then he caught you smelling the page insert of that magazine you liked with the scent. 
  “Joel, what are you doing here?” You turn around leaping into his arms, squeezing the life out of him as he chuckles into your hair. 
  “Did ya think I was gonna miss this?” His southern accent comes out thicker and slurred when he’s in your presence, much more relaxed when he can touch and feel that you’re real. “It’s not everyday that my girl graduates from college.” He sets you down lightly on your heels, just about the only bit of skin he can see as the gown dwarfs the rest of you. He still doesn’t know how you walk in those things but he won’t complain when it’s all that you’re wearing at the end of the night. 
  You wipe the stray tears that have shed careful not to ruin your makeup. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you didn’t come.” You look around the hallway noticing most of the families have cleared. “That was a lot of people to handle with your agoraphobia, I’m proud of you.” 
  He snaps his fingers “agoraphobia.” 
  He closes the small space between you holding your face between his large palms. He kisses you like he’s been away at war, like it’s the last time he’ll kiss you or perhaps the first time and he can’t get enough. All the swell of emotions as you take in the fact that he wasn’t one for pda and now he’s got his tongue down your throat and you’re practically moaning at the way he consumes you. 
  He breaks the kiss momentarily as you catch your breath. You duck your head into his chest as he laughs quietly holding you close to him. 
  “What’s so funny Joel?” 
  “Oh nothin, I just find it funny that you’re proud of me. Figured it should be the other way around, don't you?” His eyebrows raise at you and then flit to the cap dangling in your hand. “Let’s see it then.” 
  You smile all innocently at him as you hand it over. A hint of mischief behind it and he can’t help but think about what’s usually happening when you look at him that way. 
  In large rhinestones reads Sponsored by Miller and Co. 
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated
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Let Kel Be Sad: An Analysis on Kel’s struggles to express his negative emotions
Like Hero, Kel is also a “fixer”—he would bend over backwards to solve his friends' problems and stop the world if it would make them happy again, and both him and his brother are such big hearted and generous people who would much rather be the emotional support for others rather than talk about their own problems and make a situation about themselves and their feelings. For Hero, this often involves burying his own feelings and faking happiness, but I don’t think it necessarily means this for Kel, even if he struggles to express his negative emotions.
To me, Kel’s happiness and positivity is genuine, but he dismisses, discounts, and often runs from his sadness when he does experience it.
Let's discuss under the cut.
[Mod Sprinkles made the joke that in another universe I (mod Acacia) would also run a blog called "Let Kel Be Sad" so here are some Kel thoughts. Thanks for indulging my ramblings! 🧡]
Disclaimer: These are just my personal opinions, perceptions, and headcanons about Kel (and Hero). There are a lot of ways his character can be interpreted, and one of the great things about fandom is getting to see different points of view and differing interpretations of characters we all know and love. I know I speak for both Sprinkles and myself when I say we have a lot of respect for that, and for that reason, I want to be upfront that, while I do genuinely believe Kel struggles expressing negative emotions (thus the "Let Kel Be Sad" title), I don't personally view Kel as someone whose happiness is "fake" in the same way as Hero's. I can see the appeal of this interpretation and can understand why people interpret his character in this way, but it personally does not vibe with my personal interpretations, perceptions, and headcanons of Kel and his character, so if you perceive/headcanon Kel in that way, this post probably won't be your cup of tea. Please keep that in mind.
Warnings: OMORI Spoilers and discussion of game-relevant heavier topics such death, trauma, and grief.
Kel wears his heart on his sleeve, but this doesn't mean that he is shallow. He is a big-hearted, deeply empathetic, and incredibly loyal friend, and it cannot be stated enough that one of Kel’s biggest strengths is his ability to use his natural positivity and resilience to lift up those around him. He’s really the hero of the game because none of the healing would have been possible if he hadn’t continued to believe in his friends even after all of this time, hadn’t encouraged them, and hadn’t built them up just by being Kel.
And while I do think Kel does struggle to express vulnerabilities and negative emotions, I don't personally think of Kel's unwavering optimism as a mask. In my mind, Kel is not an emotional repressor or burier in the same way as Hero. In fact, because he wears his heart on his sleeve, he would probably really struggle to fake an emotion he wasn’t feeling (even if it was something positive like happiness). If Kel doesn’t want to express an emotion, I imagine he runs from it and avoids it, since it’s not natural or easy for him to “replace” or “bury” it with a fake one. Whereas Hero is much more reserved and private about his feelings, no matter what they are, so it’s much easier for him to convincingly mask pain and suffering under layers and layers of fake happiness. I just don’t think Kel would be able to hold back those emotions for very long. His negative feelings would eventually just kind of explode out of him without thinking and/or they’d become so apparent from his expressions and/or actions (since he does wear his heart on his sleeve) and everyone (including the player of the game) would know that he had so much negativity under the surface.
This isn't to say that Kel is perfectly fine. He isn't. He has suffered a terrible loss just like everyone else, but I think the game makes it clear that Kel has the most acceptance surrounding Mari's death and that he has made peace with what happened more so than the other main characters. Please keep in mind that this is only relative to the other main cast. Kel may seem "well-adjusted" in comparison to his brother and his friends who are, quite frankly, barely keeping it together, but he would not necessarily be considered well-adjusted in comparison to the non-traumatized townies. I genuinely believe that Kel is still in the process of healing, but relative to the other main cast members, he is farther along in that journey than they are.
And in that way, the game doesn't really give us a moment where Kel is overwhelmed by grief in the same way as the rest of the characters. Yes, there is the scene (one of my personal favorites) where Kel shares about his fight with Hero, and it is incredibly vulnerable and gives a lot of subtly and nuance to his character, but I don't think it's necessarily evidence that the player can't accept Kel as he presents himself to us at face value in the way that we can't accept Hero as he presents himself to us at face value. As I recently discussed in this post, the scene where Sunny finds Hero crying alone at Mari’s piano on the night of "Two Days Left" tells the player that Hero's attempts to appear well-adjusted and "fine" are, at least to a certain extent, all for show. There isn’t a Kel equivalent of this scene which, I personally think, is meant to tell the player of the game that Kel is the most well-adjusted member of his friend group (key words here being "of his friend group") and the one who has the most acceptance surrounding Mari’s death. Additionally, Mod Sprinkles actually made the point that Sunny is extremely perceptive and sensitive to his friends’ feelings and emotions. If Kel was still harboring a lot of negativity surrounding Mari’s death, Sunny likely would have picked up on that and been more hesitant to go outside with him in the first place.
This isn’t to say that Kel doesn’t ever have any negative feelings and that he doesn’t struggle to express those sometimes, but I think this struggle to express “the bad stuff” doesn’t stem from a pressure he feels to be happy all the time. That said, I do wonder sometimes if he is a little scared of feeling sad. He wants to be happy and wants everyone around him to be happy, and I think there is this certain helplessness that he feels when he can’t cheer other people up. We see a little glimpse of that in his account of his & Hero’s fight after Mari’s death. I think watching someone he loved so much go through such a deep and debilitating depression at such a young age probably permanently affected him, and he might have some worries about getting “stuck” like his brother, wallowing in that sadness and grief if he allows himself to feel it.
However, this is an unwarranted fear because Kel and Hero are very different. Even though Kel might feel sad, and his feelings are absolutely valid, I don’t think he’s prone to that level of despair and depression that we see in Hero. Understanding that his experiences and emotional responses are different than his brother’s is a big part of growing up so it might take him a while to realize this, and in the meantime, I could see it possibly manifesting itself as a sort of avoidance of sadness.
Everyone grieves differently. This is a difficult concept for even adults to understand, so I can't imagine how hard it would be for a 12-year-old like Kel. Because Kel didn't grieve Mari in the same way as Hero or his friends and didn’t spiral into the same level of despair and depression as the others, I think he struggles with invalidating his own feelings to himself sometimes--writing them off as shallow and dismissing them to himself as "just not deep enough." Again, I think this goes back to the one (1) fight that Kel and Hero had. We don’t know exactly what they said to each other in that fight, but it’s my personal headcanon that Hero lashed out at Kel for “not understanding” for he felt. From then on, I think Kel really does struggle with this fear that he just doesn’t understand emotions and because of that, any attempts to help his hurting loved ones will only make everything worse.
I’d really like to see him reach a place in which he can accept that even if his feelings and his grief are different and perhaps not as lingeringly overwhelming as the others', that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them and that doesn’t mean he didn’t care about Mari or his friends. In my mind, Kel’s hesitation and worry at expressing his negative feelings and his happy-go-lucky personality can both exist at the same time. I don't think they are mutually exclusive, and I tend to think of Kel as someone who naturally looks on the bright side of things and is genuinely optimistic and uplifting. To deny this feels like a disservice to (my personal perception of) Kel, but I think it is also a disservice to pretend he never feels sadness or any negative feelings at all. There has to be a balance.
Let Kel feel sad when he needs to but recognize that he doesn’t actually need to feel sad all that often.
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thatdesklamp · 3 days
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Hello, and (for the moment) ‘see you in a while’ from old desklamp.
(Quick edit now I’ve written this all out: Oh, lordie—I’ve just realised that this sounds like I’m announcing I’m giving up on IW. I’m not! I promise. This is all about how I’m trying to facilitate my writing process. IW is not being dropped: let’s get that out of the way first, lmao.)
Hello all! I’ve been doing some self-reflecting, and I’ve come up with this: I’ve struggled with writing ‘Intrinsic Warmth’ for a long time now.
Alll too often I’ve been sat with my laptop for hours having only managed to squeeze out one or two paragraphs that I don’t even like all that much anyway. I haven’t felt satisfied by writing for a long time, and so I just haven’t written anything. It’s been months since I’ve written something worth reading for IW, and I’ve been having a think as to why.
I think it comes down to two things; I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure in writing IW, and I’ve become too fixated on the instant gratification of feedback from you guys.
First: the pressure. IW has gotten bigger than I ever considered it would be, especially recently (as in, in the jjk season 2 era). The support and feedback continues to blow me away, and I’m staggered every time I stop to actually consider the magnitude of the response that IW has gotten. It’s genuinely crazy.
All that is to say: I wasn’t prepared for this!! I don’t mean that in any resentful way at all, I want to be clear. Moreso that it’s easy to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. I know that, relative to other huge ao3 fics, IW isn’t even that huge. But I also recognise that in the ‘Gojo x reader scene’, it’s pretty up there, even if we’re just looking through a ‘filter by most kudos’-ed fic angle. There’s a been big response, and I’m just one person, lmao. But come on, I absolutely love it, and I’m so grateful that people have enjoyed the stuff I’m writing—but as more and more people have been picking it up I’ve felt a definite pressure put upon me. It’s a pressure to write well, and to write more, and to write good things more often. This isn’t to do with anything anyone’s said, don’t worry, but more as an expected consequence of IW picking up traction.
I feel more and more like a ‘popular author’, and feel like I’m doing you guys a disservice with my infrequent updates. I truly do appreciate the reassurance of ‘you can update whenever you want!’, genuinely, but I’m also an ao3 reader myself! I empathise with and understand the frustration that must be felt when I go months between updates. Writing has never come at the expense of my personal, academic or social life (hence why I’ve never tried to tie myself down with an update schedule: I’d never be able to keep to it), and I’d never want it to. I want to keep writing as it’s always been: one of my hobbies. But as IW increases in popularity, it feels like it almost *should* take priority over other things, and this has left me feeling pretty overwhelmed.
My second reason: I’ve also become a tad too dependent on feedback. When IW was in its fledgling stages, I didn’t show it to anyone at all, and was ‘writing for myself’ in the barest sense of the phrase. Only one of my irl friends has read any of it, and when I was first uploading it, when I had about 5ish comments per chapter, any feedback I was getting would always be secondary to my own. I was writing for myself, because I enjoyed writing and I enjoyed what I was writing about, and it just so happened that there were a few people who felt the same as me.
It’s very different now! And I much prefer it now—it’s every writer’s dream to have had such an overwhelmingly positive response to their writing. And now it gets to the point where I can check my emails, or look at my tumblr notifications, and there’ll always be new for me. And whilst I absolutely love this, it’s pretty addictive, checking again and again, seeing what people are saying. This positive response from others is more instantly gratifying than the slow, steady, personal enjoyment I get from writing.
It sounds silly, I know, but I’ve been writing this hunger games fic (completely spontaneous, likely never to be published), and no-one’s read it but me, and it’s reminded me how much I really do like writing. I’ve loved the process of writing it, because the only person whose opinion I’m listening to is my own.
I don’t want to discourage people from reaching out to me, leaving comments, even talking about IW, anything like that. That’s not what I mean. But this is me recognising that I should probably take a step back from the non-writing side of writing: being active on tumblr, constantly checking asks, making posts, etc. Know that whilst I may not immediately respond to you, once I get back in the swing of things over here, I will do. I just need to sort out my personal priorities a bit, I think.
Saying this, I know I haven’t been all that active recently (this has honestly been intentional: I’ve been trying to wean myself off it, lmao) but for the immediate future, I’m making that more definite: I’m going to try to revert my focus to writing. I’m going to stay off tumblr for a bit, until I’ve gotten back into the swing of writing and don’t find myself so focused on the feedback side of it all. Hopefully this’ll spark up some more genuine passion in me! Please know that if you’ve written an ao3 comment, I have read it. I don’t know when I will respond to them, but I definitely will, I just want to keep my focus on the personal side of writing for the moment.
Thank you to everyone! Again, this is just me going off the grid for a while: not a big fuckoff goodbye or anything. If this is unreasonably theatrical, blame my drama GCSE. Going off to do some writing now. See you guys!
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drdemonprince · 3 days
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Interesting to read yer response to that last ask about yer history exploring gender + transitioning. I guess it’s p relatable to me even tho I think we feel somewhat differently about our own gender. I’ve always felt a very strong internal sense of gender, it’s quite clear to me and it’s definitely not neutral, it’s quite intense. I’ve identified as nonbinary for a long time. But I’ve found the closer I’ve gotten to being in touch with it, the more confused and unwelcoming the rest of the world has become. So I spend all this time thinking about how im perceived and how to navigate that and balancing what I internally want vs trying to manage reactions to me. This is where I see our similarities. It’s gotten especially bad recently as I’ve felt a new connection to manhood and I’ve wanted to explore that but I’ve felt the backlash way stronger cause I feel like people feel much more confident to tell me that I’m failing being a man than being nonbinary. So it’s getting to the point of like, what even is being a man. (Feels like failure is a pretty core aspect of it lol) Like you talk about making these choices to join queer men’s space, which is where I’d feel the most connected to manhood, but I feel like I’d have to make pretty big changes to how I move through the world gender wise to be even allowed or welcomed there. I don’t feel an apathy like you describe, but I can totally see how this constant weighing of expressing yerself vs being seen how you want would end up in apathy
I don't know your situation, but I'd give those queer men's spaces a shot. A lot of them are far less transphobic than you've been conditioned to think. There are trans men in the queer men's spaces around you, there are people who are read as cis gay men who are themselves very much not so, everybody's fucking pansexual and nonbinary these days it's fucking crazy dog. besides, what transphobic bias does exist against trans mascs in men's spaces is so fuckin mild compared to what trans women typically confront in wlw spaces. the worst i've ever had happen to me was someone befriend me on the dancefloor and then helpfully recommend that we all head to a lesbian bar. and he wasn't even being insincere, he just didnt know what kind of person he was talking to. beyond that it's been like a total nonissue even long before i passed. so you should give it a shot, you will learn more about yourself and other people from it. and it has generally for me been pretty positive!
the problem is. finding acceptance into the little gendered club meant there was still a whole lot of Gender there. and i'm so sick of it. this is also an asexuality thing for me too. im so fed up of people being into my body or my appearance. im so sick of the obsession with bodies and appearances and the gendered projections made onto those things. it grosses me out so much. i just feel like putty that everybody's hands have been all over. im so sick of people trying to leave their mark on me.
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amysubmits · 2 days
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I’ve just spent about half an hour reading and re-reading your “Owning me is complicated” post. Reading this from a sub’s perspective is so helpful to a Dom. I often feel like I have to be perfect and never make a mistake with my sub. Often I feel like making a mistake would sabotage our relationship because I wouldn’t be living up to her expectations or standards. It’s heartwarming to read your thoughts about your Dom and the struggles that occur in His mind. We try to lead with confidence and assuredness and we want that to exude daily so that the sub is naturally “comfortable” in following and submitting. The truth is, we don’t ALWAYS know the answer. We don’t ALWAYS have it figured out. Trust and honor is a delicate strand that we try not to break. Her submission is the most beautiful gift she can give me but knowing she looks at me and thinks of me as her everything is even more. Never wanting to let her down is always a part of my mindset. I try to earn her submission and trust every day, not by my words but through my actions. It’s beautiful to know that there are subs that think and acknowledge the things you described in your writing. Thank you. Thank you for shining a light that says “True Doms will always have a sub’s best interest at heart.” Such a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for this thoughtful message!
It feel like the nuance involved with D/s often gets lost on tumblr. There isn't really a good way to say in a short snippet or meme that on one hand, most subs are really drawn to confidence and confidence can feel like a key part of being a dom in some ways. And yet..doms are human and should have room to make mistakes. And while confidence can assist dominance a lot, it can also be a huge liability or threat to the D/s relationship if someone in the Dom role acts confident when they aren't informed. I guess in other words, confidence is great, but it's not realistic for doms to always be confident in everything...and arrogance is dangerous. Sometimes a dom not knowing exactly what to do and just having a nice discussion ith their sub about what they are thinking and even gaining additional insight or information from their sub to help make a decision can be a really bonding, D/s-feeling, lovely thing. And it's easy to miss that nuance if you go looking at memes or shortform content that talk about how confidence is key to being a dom or whatever. Or erotica that portrays dominance as practically being an all knowing, all confident god-like creature. Finding it hot as a fantasy I get for sure, but it's so important to differentiate between fantasy and real relationships and that difference isn't always clear on here. Similar with earning submission. I get why there is a lot of content that talks about the importance of earning trust and submission. There are so many doofuses out there who think they should just command a sub into compliance without earning submission and those are some really dangerous people. At the same time...it's easy for me to grasp why a well-meaning dom might think if they make a mistake then that means they have temporarily 'lost' submission or failed to earn it that day or something - and it's not necessarily like that. I try to always remember that my dom is human and will get it wrong sometimes. I don't expect perfection. More than anything else it's just the fact that he really wants to be cautious and take good care of me and of our relationship...that he's always looking to learn from his mistakes and to grow as a person and as my partner... that allows him to earn my submission more so than how 'right' he gets it. It's the way he is motivated to act in ways that align with his moral compass and character that really get me submissive the most. Anyway, thanks again for your message, it was really heartwarming to read!
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bangchansgirlsblog · 2 days
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i couldnt really think of a fic req but i got sum inspo lmaoe
leeknow and reader (male reader if you can, if not jus do gn reader) went to one of han's parties at a club and lee know was feeling mischievous that night so he decided to act like a brat which ended up in a bit of a fight where reader asks why hes acting like that, he shouldn't be acting like bcs theres other guests they dont know and lee know protests saying that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and that reader is being annoying and stupid saying that reader shpuld stop controlling him, blah blah blah and then it ends up with reader punishing him, edging him for god knows how long and when he finally gets release hes getting overstimulated and reader wont let him get any cock unless he begs for it<3
basically submissive bratty leeknow (i have a dom reader typa obsession and punishments and i like seeing ppl cry so idk🏃💨)
PLSPSLSPSLS do this one! (get sum rest first tho!!)
- 143 anon
Punish me
Paring: Male!reader x OT8 (mostly leeknow)
Warning: toxic relationship, crying, alchohol
My first ever malereader x ot8 storyy 😆hope you enjoy! 🩷
**
Everyone knew about Leeknow and Y/n. There was no surprise there. The way they both looked at eachother would give it off quite immediately. They were genuinely perfect for eachother but the only problem was that leeknow fed off of how vulnerable Y/n was and he enjoyed to make his life a living hell.
“Yo what’s Leeknow’s deal?” Han had pulled Y/n to the side. He quickly looked over at leeknow to see what he was talking about and there it was. On the other side of the room where Leeknow stood there was a guy, a shorter guy who was touching all over him.
“I don’t know,” Y/n shrugged and straightened his bow tie. “I really don’t know,” he frowned and looked up at Han.
“Hey, look. Don’t let this ruin our night okay? It’s our launch party. We need to have fun,” Han grabbed a glass of champagne and handed it to him. “Drink and let loose, it’s his loss anyway,”
“What would I do without you Hyung,” Y/n groaned and gave him a smile.
“I don’t know, probably be bawling your eyes out. My little baby,” he teased the younger boy by pinching his cheeks before they heard someone clearing their throat.
“Y/n. A word,” leeknow stood there with his hands tucked on both sides of his suit. His eyebrows furrowed and his posture tall and intimidating.
Fuck.
“Han, hold this. I’ll be-“ before he could even finish his sentence leeknow had already grabbed his arm and was leading him through the crowd.
His grip getting tighter and tighter as they made it outside to the balcony.
“Leeknow? Baby your hurting me,” he whimpered as he tried to remove his hands out of his grip.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Leeknow growled as he towered over the petit boy.
“What do you mean leeknow? I haven’t done anything! You’re the one flirting with other people,” Y/n’s voice quivered as tears started to fill his eyes.
“You always do this, then blame me when I talk to-“
“Han? Yes because Han wants you. Isn’t it obvious? All the boys do,” he run his hands through his hair as he got closer.
“Leeknow, no they don’t and even if they do
, it doesn’t give you an excuse to treat me like shit,” he defended himself as he looked up at his lover.
“Do you even love me anymore?” Leeknow spat. He gasped at this and a tear quickly run down his cheek.
“That’s not fair leeknow and you know this! I do,”
“Then be a goodboy for me and behave. Understood?” He wiped the tear off of his cheek before slowly lowering his head and kissing Y/n.
“Can you do that for me?” He only got a whimper in response which made leeknow feel more powerful.
“Leeknow! Can I talk to you?” The guy that was hanging out with leeknow at the bar had walked over to them.
“Ofcourse you can sweetheart. Another drink on me?” Leeknow smirked once again before leaning in to kiss his younger lover.
Y/n felt pathetic and humiliated as leeknow walked away from him. His hands wrapped around the other.
That was it. He was sick and tired of Leeknow’s acts. He was done being the used one. He was tired of Leeknow’s games. What else do to than play fire with fire? Or is it water with fire?
He made his way into the ballroom where the first person he met was their leader. Chan.
“Hey Y/nnie!” The smell of alchohol filled his nostrils. “I’m drunk,” he giggled as he spun the younger boy around.
“Oh I can tell!” He teased, “shall we get more drinks?” Y/n asked.
“Yeah totally! Here, hold my hand,” at first he was hesitant but he could sense eyes on him. Burning the back oh his head and without thinking twice he grabbed Chan’s hand.
“Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?” Chan said. Y/n’s cheeks turned red as he wasn’t so used to compliments from him.
“Thank you Chan, you do too.” He got a wink in response before Chan talked to the waiter.
“Hey, you don’t have a chair!” Chan frowned and looked around. “You can sit on my lap right? Just as friends…Ofcourse! I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to-“
“Yeah sure,” he giggled in response to Chan’s rumbling. It was obvious he was nervous and now Y/n was actually believing what leeknow had said about his members crushing on him.
The two ended up having a good conversation back and forth and the drinks kept coming. He was for sure 100% drunk now…maybe more than Chan at this point but he couldn’t help it.
With the stress of leeknow constantly teasing him and tabloid ms finding out about his sexuality, everything was becoming too much.
Leeknow watched from a far. He was pissed off. He was so pissed off because Y/n was his. Always his. Was this his fault? Did he chase him away? He was so focused on his every move that he forgot that his whole plan was to make Y/n jealous not the other way around but why was he turned on and frustrated.
He watched the way Y/n was sat on Chan and the way his arms were wrapped around him. It was eating him alive that he didn’t even realize the glass in his hands had shattered.
“Sir are you okay?” A waiter near by gasped in shock and he quickly helped leeknow clean up.
“Yeah yeah I’m fine,” he shrugged her off and continued to watch Y/n from a far. He looked wasted but so happy. Too happy.
“Woah what’s going on here?” Han joined Y/n and Chan’s conversation. He chuckled and looked at the two.
“Hey Hannie!” Y/n slurred and got up to give him a hug but instead tripped over into his arms getting caught.
“You’re too drunk love,” Han told the younger boy. “Should I take you upstairs?”
“Oh? Already?” He winked at Han who was already turning red. “Leeknow won’t be happy with that,” he teased. Hans hands wrapped around his waist to be able to keep him up.
“I’m going to get him a room to sober up, tell leeknow if he’s looking-“
“Oh don’t worry his walking over here right now,” Chan interrupted and pointed at a direction.
Fuck. Y/n looked at the fuming leeknow and the position he was stood next to Han and decided to make a run for it.
“Han save yourself and run, I’ll run that way!” Y/n quickly said but before Han could understand, he had dashed the other way into the crowd trying to avoid Leeknow.
“Hyung what’s going on?” Han asked leeknow who had arrived.
“I’m going to punish that little brat is what’s going on,” leeknow had basically removed the buckle of his belt. He spotted the petit boy heading upstairs. He smirked at this. He really thought his boyfriend was that stupid? He basically had boyfriend senses.
Y/n was huffing and puffing as he closed the door behind him. He sat on the bed praying that Leeknow hadn’t seen him enter that room.
He let out a tiny sigh of relief but that was taken away when the door was broken into. Quite literally.
“What did I tell you princess?” Leeknow growled. His eyes were dark and full of last. He walked over to Y/n before lifting him with one hand and roughly kissing him.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now leeknow,” he frowned because he was still hurt from Leeknow’s little shenanigans from before.
“Yeah but guess what, you still mine and I don’t like the way you were acting out there,”
“I’m sorry baby. I swear it wasn’t even like that-“
“On your knees now.” Was all he said. His voice was rough and stern.
“But leeknow the door is open-“
“Let them see. Let me show them how good of a punishment I give you.”
**
PS I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT.
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marisatomay · 2 years
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i’m so sick of writers who proudly proclaim that they don’t read and directors and actors and other filmmakers who smugly say that they rarely watch movies or any artist who acts like an audience is stupid for connecting with their work like what the fuck is wrong with you that you hold such contempt such derision for the art that you have chosen to make the art that so many people dream of the opportunity to make the art that brings meaning and connection to people’s lives it’s unbelievably disrespectful to both your audience and the art-form and if you can’t muster basic respect for either your art-form or your audience then kindly fuck off and do something else
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syn0vial · 8 months
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the whole “treat others how you want to be treated” line sounds so easy, but i am finding things immensely complicated by the fact that, in truth, there are many people who do NOT want to be treated the way i want to be treated and will take offense if i try
#personal post#i do not like to have my routines disrupted. so i try to impose on my hosts as little as possible during their day-to-day lives.#i feel uncomfortable when strangers are emotional in my presence. so i stay in my room when i’m upset.#i wouldn’t like to feel obligated to entertain a guest 24/7.#so i try to entertain myself when my host hasn’t made it clear that they have the time.#all these things i do bc they strike me as polite and considerate#but i’m pretty sure all it’s done is earn me a reputation as a cold distant bitch to all my brother’s friends#(or at least his gf and her mom who actually complained about me to him)#(or rather his gf’s mom complained to his gf who complained to him)#i think part of the problem is that my brother and his friends are all highly extroverted and i am highly. not.#so i’m trying to give them space and privacy like i would an introvert friend but they see this as me acting ‘too good for them’ or smthg#it just exhausts me tho bc apparently his gf told him that she doesn’t want her family ‘getting hurt by what they don’t understand’#and it’s like geez am i really so alien to y’all that you can’t even understand me?#and am i really so incomprehensible as to be threatening?#never heard that from any of my other friends though like attracts like i suppose#when left to my own devices i’m more likely to befriend people who think and feel the way i do#whereas now i’m obligated to befriend my brother’s friends. who likely think and feel differently than i do.#funny thing is: i thought we all got along great until my brother told me otherwise!#but eh. guess i gotta practice imposing more and springing more surprise social situations on unsuspecting hosts.#some people are into that i hear
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pepprs · 2 years
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covid is such an evil evil disease and an evil evil thing to live through lol
#purrs#this isn’t prompted by anything im just thinking about it. i hate that thisis what life looks and feels like now and it might always be thi#way. i hate that getting covid feels like an inevitability even though i wear n95s and don’t go anywhere but work and have basically 0#social life and have put my life plans on hold to wait for this thing to pass when it probably never will. i hate that lockdown was better#and easier than this in some ways because at least back then people were still scared and there still felt like hope and there was clear(is#) guidance and free testing and vax sites and whatever. i hate that free testing and public health dashboards showing covid rates and vax s#sites and all that shit have fucking disappeared even though the variants going around now are more contagious than ever. i hate the#mortifying ordeal of being the only person (or one of the only people) wearing an n95 and sometimes the only person wearing a mask at all.#hate that so many things have been lost and we are not taking time to grieve them or make sure that we are okay and will be okay. i hate#being scared every time i swallow. i hate how there is literally no way to tell if you will get long covid and no way to reduce your chance#of getting long covid or covid at all (aside from masks) just ways to make the symptoms less severe. i hate trying to bring people together#and stay away from people at the same time. i hate all the life that covid has taken out of me and the people i love even though thank god#know more people who haven’t gotten it than who have but actually that may not be true idk. and i HATE that because of covid and how#egregiously badly it has been handled everyone is just like.. perpetually tired and sad and we’ve accepted mass illness and death and#accepted that disabled people (esp those who are marginalized in other ways) are disposable when actually no fucking human being is#disposable and everyone should be able to live happy connected healthy lives and we could’ve ended this shit in EARLY 2020 without having t#deal with any of this absolute fucking NIGHTMARE. like god. i remember sobbing hysterically thinking we would be dealing with covid for 18#months and now we’re coming on 3 fucking years and lockdown is over but the danger is even worse than it was and like.. no one cares anymor#and it fucking sucks lmfao. i am so tired. i need to move out. and i miss my friends and i miss my life and i miss having fewer things to#constantly worry about and i can’t believe how good and simple life was before this stupid shit.#delete later#i wasn’t planning on going on a huge rant lol sorry it’s just what’s on my mind this morning
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ettucamus · 2 years
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aggression against trans people is truly so exhausting like of course there are abrasive and loud trans people on the internet but for the most part. actual trans people are just trying to go about our days managing this very personal struggle while trying not to get hatecrimed. and so much of the discourse about being trans is so removed from what it’s like to be a trans person irl.
#th.txt#like for me personally being trans is more a medical condition than anything like sure i am trans in the same way i am adhd#dysphoria has largely been this pain in my ass for my entire life and i have actively done as much as possible to try to mitigate it#truly the only thing to help has been medical transition and that’s what i don’t get about transphobes#who are so into shaming people for transitioning like it’s truly just another medication for a condition#at this point idek what a gender is or how to go about interpreting my own feelings#i do know physical transition has alleviated my dysphoria and that’s the end of it#i truly am a gender abolitionist in the way that i wish my gender and sex just wasn’t even a topic to discuss ever#nonbinary for me is just a stand in for my feelings that gender is a nebulous social construct i do not support#idc if this is going to ruffle some feathers on many different sides but i am just so tired#i just want to exist and look the way i’d like to and not have people tell me i’m mutilating myself#or that i can think my way out of dysphoria because that’s just simply not happening#after 20 years and more of fighting against dysphoria i think by now it’s clear that it’s an immutable disorder#in the same way i take meds for other mental health struggles physical transition is the medication for dysphoria#maybe other people are stronger than me for being able to withstand the experience of dysphoria without transition#but i’m not one of them! and that’s okay!
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