#i enjoyed it i liked the interactions and i feel like we’re getting somewhere

[breathinginsulfur]

how do we feel about the new episode guys‼️

[lovebugism]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[inkykeiji]

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”  “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too. 

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart. 

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes). 

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives. 

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate. 

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan. 

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible. 

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want. 

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling. 

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want. 

Because it always is. 

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed. 

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed. 

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded. 

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels. 

“Oh, I remember this one!” 

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.” 

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle. 

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.” 

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.” 

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…” 

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole. 

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock. 

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…” 

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” 

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.” 

You can’t always get what you want. 

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you. 

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?” 

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too. 

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please. 

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile. 

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention. 

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.” 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony. 

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?” 

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.” 

No. 

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No. 

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no! 

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do. 

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth. 

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup. 

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile. 

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want. 

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.” 

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.” 

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.” 

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat. 

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth. 

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!” 

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” 

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw. 

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted. 

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff. 

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.” 

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple. 

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity. 

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs. 

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity. 

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.” 

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should. 

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?” 

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little. 

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?” 

“Well, sometimes I…” 

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.” 

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot? 

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…” 

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water. 

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?” 

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…” 

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?” 

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does. 

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer. 

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores. 

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick. 

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?” 

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes. 

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear. 

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit. 

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.” 

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific. 

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it. 

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.” 

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint. 

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder. 

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps. 

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” 

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—” 

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice. 

But not him.

No, he knows better now. 

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls. 

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!” 

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.” 

“You little bitch!” 

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight. 

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?” 

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower. 

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful. 

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest. 

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching. 

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, onii-chan.” 

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine. 

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.” 

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy. 

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure. 

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good! 

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth. 

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?” 

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan! 

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars. 

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?” 

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.” 

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal. 

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous. 

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!” 

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine. 

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.  

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!” 

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!” 

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form. 

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?” 

[sunnie-angel]

Always and Forever

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason tries to end things after a bad patrol. you won’t give him up without a fight.

tags: f!reader, smut, kissing, biting, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering (mention) cock warming, orgasm denial (kind of), belly bulge, size kink (if you squint), overstimulation, creampie (if you think this is misproperly tagged please let me know) minors and ageless blogs do not interact

rated e (mdni) | wc: 5.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing smut (or a fic of this length) so please be gentle! if you find jason a little ooc, i’m still working on getting his ‘voice’ right, so just consider him one of the many versions we’ve all come to love. this started as a single smut scene and grew feelings and a bit of plot from there. this was definitely a labour of love so i hope you all enjoy it!

“We’re done. Us. All of it. You’re free to leave.”

The modulated voice of the Red Hood startles you. It’s nearly six in the morning, and you’ve been up since three when Jason didn’t return from patrol like he promised. He’s still in his Hood gear, hasn’t bothered to take off the helmet or even the boots crusted in who knows what. The leather jacket has taken a beating, and in the dim light of your apartment living room it glistens damply like he was caught in the earlier rain. He won’t even look in your direction, hands fisted at his sides, the darkened leather of his gloves taut across his knuckles. Jason didn’t come home like he promised and now he can’t even bear to look at you as he tears your heart in two. It’s understandable then, that when your voice returns to you and you can breathe around the lump in your throat, that your voice shatters the silence.

“Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

Only the way that his body locks up, somehow tenser than before, deflates you. A whole night’s worry and frustration drained away.

“Jay? Please take off the helmet and look at me.”

His black curls are matted to his forehead with sweat. His one white streak is dark with it,. Somewhere along the way he must have ditched the domino mask, because the sight of his bare face twists something tight in your chest. His beautiful eyes are red rimmed, tear tracks still staining his cheeks. His lips look bitten raw. He looks at you the way a dying man looks at salvation. Realization dawns slowly for you.

“You didn’t get caught in the rain, did you?”

A sharp nod, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t look away. Now you’ve noticed, you can’t stop. There’s a faint blood spray on the front of the helmet, barely visible from where Jason’s placed it on the counter. The leather jacket is soaked through with blood, darker splotches on his tac pants from where it’s followed gravity. The grime on his boots now looks rusty, though that might just be your imagination. Jason’s come home hours late covered in blood and is telling you to leave. This time, your voice is startlingly gentle.

“Jay we talked about this. You promised no life altering conversations when you’re covered in blood, remember?”

At the time, had been a joke. A promise made after a close call, when Jason was still loopy from sedation and painkillers and insisting he was going to duel Doc Leslie for your honour. Finally lucid, he had sheepishly promised no more dramatic ultimatums when he's covered in blood.

“But you need to—“

“No. You promised. What’s going to happen is you’re going to leave all your gear at the front door and we’ll deal with it tomorrow. You’re going to tell me if you’re injured and let me fix you up if you are. Then you’re going to shower. Then, and only then are we going to have this discussion.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

He caves at the way your whole body sags under the weight of one word. Carefully toes off his boots and socks, peels the stiff tac pants off, and lays his top and jacket on top of the whole pile. Reveals a smattering of bruises down his arms and along his rib cage. To get to the ensuite he has to walk past you and through your shared bedroom. The heat of him passing by has you turning after him, a star caught in his orbit, words curling to ash on your tongue. It’s only when he’s firmly out of sight that you allow yourself to collapse into the couch. Head lolling back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Blankly you watch the headlights of passing cars loom and fade across the ceiling.

You do your best not to cry but wet trails burn down your face. You dash them away, but it does nothing to make you feel better. You don’t know if you’ll survive the coming conversation, a litany of “he doesn’t love me anymore, or at least not enough to keep me” is running through your head. Something is wrong, you think. Usually after a rough night, Jason can’t get enough of you. He comes home to your shared apartment and holds you, needs to feel the touch of your skin and the heat of your breath to truly know you’re alive. He's never the most talkative on the worst nights, but he always reaches out. Mumbles into your throat just to hear your replies, get you to distract him with chatter about your own day. He’ll act like he’s touch starved, press his split knuckles to the back of your hand, pull you into him until his nose is buried in the crook of your neck, pet and touch whatever bare skin is in reach. You're used to shaking off the vestiges of sleep to Jason between your thighs, fingers and tongue skillfully opening you up before he slides his cock inside, splitting you open just to feel you tighten around him. Tonight he hasn’t even reached out to hold your hand.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Jason stands in the doorway to your shared bedroom. Wet from his shower, the streetlight filtering through the curtains illuminating the water still beading on his skin. The bruises look less stark now. You look at him and feel love. You look at him and see the man you gave the most vulnerable parts of yourself to, ready to hand them back to you on a platter. Rolling your head to look at him properly, you notice he hasn't bothered to dress, wrapped in a towel like he couldn't wait to put off this conversation a moment longer. Your eyes meet, and it snaps whatever trance he's in. He shuffles over to you, eyes asking for permission to join you on the couch. The couch dips under his weight, and you turn on your side to face him, legs curling up to your chest.

"I'm glad you're home."

You reach out to brush his face, aching to remind yourself that's he's real but he shies back from the motion, denies you both the comfort of contact.

"Don’t. I'm not— I'm not good for you. We can't— I'm not gonna do this to you anymore."

"Do what to me Jason?" you ask, genuinely puzzled "Be us? I chose this, I chose you, and I have kept on choosing you from the beginning. I don't understand." By the end, you're truly pleading, begging with your voice and eyes and body for him to explain this to you. To explain why he's trying to make this choice for you.

"Bein' with me puts you in danger," he says slowly, carefully. "You think you know what you've signed up for but you don't. Not really. I painted a target on your back and now the worst of Gotham are gonna come sniffin’ at your door. You're never gonna be safe with me and I don't want to be the reason why you're hurt. You deserve better than me and a life of looking over your shoulder. I can't give you that, I'll never be able to give you that."

And oh, that hurts. The way he says it, dripping with self-loathing and certainty, cracks your heart open. It speaks of long held fears and convictions that he will never be good enough, that he is too broken and too dangerous to be loved.

"Did something happen tonight?" you ask, searching for a reason, anything, that would have brought old wounds to light.

"What?" Tension laces his body tight. There's a wild look in his eyes, shifting closer to green than blue.

"Jay, you made all of those risks clear to me before we were even real friends. So, what happened tonight to make you so sure that you'll be the death of me?"

Something about the way you state the question so matter of factly unsettles him enough to reply. "Heard some chatter down at docks about Black Mask setting up a new warehouse. Tonight was just supposed to be easy. Just about fuckin' with him, get B and Wing time to gather evidence on his new operation. He was waiting for us, probably set the whole thing up as a trap. Did a whole melodramatic monologue too 'bout how if we were gonna threaten his operation — the only thing that means anything to him — then turnabout’s fair play."

He's paused in his remembered anger, hands flexing against the couch cushions. You nod, trying to encourage him, not wanting to break the spell that got him talking in the first place. But you really don't like where this was headed. When he speaks again, its in a whisper.

"He knew your name. He knew who you are to me and he knew your fucking name."

The fear that jolts through you at that statement is matched by the intensity in his eyes. Distractedly you notice that you can’t feel your fingers. Heart racing, the only thing grounding you is the weave of the cushion under your cheek.

"Okay, we can— we can handle this. It'll be difficult but I can—"

"He's dead," Jason interrupts.

"He's what." All trains of thought come to a crashing stop.

"I killed him."

Its a confession and a plea for forgiveness wrapped in one. He can't quite look you in the eyes anymore, his whole demeanor screaming shame. Stunned and wide-eyed all you can do is drink him in, this incredible, ridiculous man. Car headlights cut through the shadows, lighting up the planes of his face and catching on the still too-green of his eyes. Somewhere along the way you've moved closer. His face is only a breath away and in the silence it feels unbearably intimate.

You can't help blurting out, "Can I kiss you?" The thought of being unable to touch him any longer is utterly unthinkable. Not when he's right in front of you, lips parted and waiting for you to pronounce judgement over him. He nods, shyly, and then you're in his lap. His face is cradled in your hands, eyes wide as he looks up at you. His lips are warm when you finally give in to the urge to taste him. They're rough from where he's bitten them but they're pliant against yours. Drawing back, you rest your forehead on his, unwilling to be any further apart.

"He had your name in his fuckin' mouth and I couldn't let him live for that. So yeah, I killed him. Him and every one a his lieutenants in the room that heard." Jason pauses, tries to gauge your reaction, continues on more self-consciously. "B and Wing couldn’t stop me and I didn’t want them to. He was a threat to you and I didn't know. You could have died and I wouldn't even've known what to protect you from." He tries to pull back from you, but you don't let him. Lets his motion pull you along with him, hands still cradling his face.

"Is that where all the blood is from? You're not hiding any injuries besides the bruises from me?" you ask worriedly. He's done it before, but you'd hoped he'd learned to trust you better. Jason goes to remove your hands from his face and you don't resist. He presses soft kisses to each of your palms before folding them to his bare chest right over his heart.

"Fuck sweetheart, I tell you that I've just killed a roomful of men and you want to know if I'm okay? You're not angry that I killed, again?" And oh he looks so ready for you to reject him. Waiting for you to turn away, to call him a monster, for your love to turn to horror.

When you speak, the words come out slowly, each syllable weighed out with care. "Am I bad person if I say that I'm grateful?" You can feel his heartbeat speeding up under your hands as you speak. "Because I am Jay, I'm so, so grateful. I'm grateful that I'll never have to worry about a bullet in the dark or getting taken off the street. Mostly I'm grateful that I won't be used to hurt you. But I'm also so very sorry Jay that you had to kill again." He shudders at that, closes his eyes and squeezes your hands tight tight tight. "I know that you were trying so, so hard not to kill, to live by your family's rules and I'm so sorry that you had to break that promise to yourself. Can you forgive me for putting you in that impossible position?"

"I— I don't need your forgiveness, not for this. But don't you see? I'm the reason you were danger. If I hadn't a been quick enough, if there's ever a day when I'm not fast enough, then you'd've died." At that he stops, swallows thickly, like he's considering a world where he doesn't save you. "This doesn’t end just ‘cause Black Mask’s dead. It’s every enemy the Hood has ever made knowing that my heart’s walking around outside my body.” And that, that makes your breath catch in your throat. Stuns you enough that you’re not fully prepared for what he says next. “So this, you and me, it's gotta be done. I'll move out tomorrow, pack things up later. I won't leave you unprotected, I'll— I'll still patrol but you won't have to see me again. You can have a clean start."

Now, now you are angry. Pushing off his chest you lever yourself upright, forcing him to look up at you. Straddled across his lap your balance is precarious at best but you need him to see you, to realize that what you say next is what you mean with every wretched part of you.

"No."

"No?" He's looking up at you, glazed eyes and mouth open wide with shock.

"No. Jason Peter Todd you do not get to make this decision for me." With every word you push your finger into his chest for emphasis, your whole body shaking with the force you're putting behind your words. "I knew the risks because you told me about them. I decided that I could live with them if it meant having you. I told you always and forever. I meant it then and I mean it now. So this, you and me, it’s over when I agree it is. I gave you my fucking heart and this is me not accepting it back. You tell me I’m free to leave anytime, well I’m not.” His hands have fallen to your hips where they clench and unclench. “You haven’t been able to keep me out of your sight lines for more than three minutes tonight. You can’t go a day without touching me, feeling me up and getting your cock wet. I know you don’t sleep half so well if I’m not in your bed and neither can I. I know the way you look when you think nothing you’ve done has ever been good enough and the face you make when you feel like a hero. I know you to your bones and you know me. You want me to live a life that you’re not a part of, well I won’t." Suddenly fed up with the chafing of the towel on your poor inner thighs you try to shift, when you feel him hard under the thin layer of the bath towel. You feel Jason freeze up, time crystallizing around you before speeding back up like a poorly wound tape.

“Off. Off now” You start pawing at the blasted towel unsuccessfully, before giving up and going for your own sleep pants. You’re half way through wiggling them off before Jason’s brain catches up with you and then he’s scrabbling to tear the towel off and get you bare. You grab his hardening cock and guide it to the entrance of your cunt. You’re still not slick enough for this, didn’t spend ages getting opened up on fingers first, but you’re desperate enough to make it work. His hands around your thighs are like iron, clinging to you like a life preserver. You take it slow, letting gravity do the work of spearing you open on his cock, unable to take him to the hilt in one swift motion the way you ache to. Jason’s a big man, always towering over you in size, and his cock is perfectly large to match. Already the stretch is just the other side of painful, the thickness of him cleaving you in two. You gasp like you’ve been punched with every inch downwards. By the time your hips meet his pelvis his stomach muscles are clenched and twitching from the effort of not just fucking up into you and taking what he wants. His fingers are buried in the couch cushions. Deliriously you wonder if the cushions will still be intact by the end of this conversation.

"So tell me again," you pant, "tell me why you think you can just walk away from me and all the love we have like it's nothing." Jason groans at your words, buries his face in your throat, hips still twitching with aborted thrusts.

"Please, please baby. Let me move— shit, let me make you feel good. God, sweetheart you're so fucking tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me." The growing roll of his hips is distracting. He's so fucking thick, this position making him feel like he's somewhere in your stomach, every flex of his muscles bullies him deeper, threatens to shake all the thoughts out of your head. That just won’t do. You take back control with a soft hand on his chest pushing him back until he's leaned right back against the couch cushions.

"You started this conversation Jay. It’s not done until you finish it. Besides, you’re the one that wants to put a stop to all this." You punctuate your words with a single calculated grind of your hips, make him claw at your hips with abandon. Revel at the weight of him inside of you. Trail your hand up his chest so you can thread your fingers into his damp curls. "Why should I let you move, hmm? Give me that list of reasons, and maybe I'll let you fuck me when we're done talking." His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the colour of his eyes anymore.

It takes a few false starts before he can put a coherent thought together. "Being— being with me makes, oh god, makes you a target. People'll go through you, tryna hurt me. You're gonna get hurt cus'a me, could die fr'me." He's trembling all over now, words slurring together and gasping for air. He settles a little when you run your other hand down his chest to trace his y-shaped scar, lean in and kiss him slow and sweet. Nip and tease at his already abused bottom lip.

"Love that ship went and sailed the first time you talked to me," you say. "There's no putting that back in the box and hoping everyone will forget that we were us." Taking your time, you mouth along his jawline, feel his hand slide under your shirt to come settle on the small of your back. "Say we split up, what then? Doesn't matter how often you swing by, someone'll always try and find a way. Tonight was just a reminder. How does breaking both of our hearts make that go away?" Nuzzling into that sweet space below his jaw, you can feel the way his pulse races and cock twitches in you. All the while you keep your hips tortuously still, warming his cock with your cunt, enjoying the stretch of him. A tug of his hair gets him talking again.

"I'm not a— not a good man. I've killed a lot a people, don't even regret most a'em." He can't look at you as he says it, eyes fixed on a spot over your shoulder. His hand on your back flexes, fingers tightening around your hip bone.

"Didn't we just go over this? Jay I'm glad you killed those men, and if that makes you a bad person so am I." This time its him that goes in for a kiss, latches on to the plush of your lips, licks his way inside. Cradles your skull and pulls you closer, has to stop kissing you to gasp when that shifts his cock inside of you.

"Sweetheart, you're the best person damn person I know," he breathes into your mouth. Traces over your cheekbone with the tip of his nose. "You're the best fuckin' thing to happen to me. But you shouldn't hafta decide if you're okay with me killing people. Shouldn't be something you gotta think about at all." There it is again, that tinge of self-loathing. And that's what it’s really all about isn't it?

"You're not making me do anything. You think I didn't know who I was saying yes to when you asked me out to dinner? That I was unaware of Hood's brand of justice? That unlike your family, I didn’t already approve of your methods? Love, I was grateful for you before you'd even walked into my life." Its a confession you hadn't said out loud before, but maybe you should've. Something about your faith in him has Jason whining at the back of his throat like a wounded animal. He tries to buck his hips but freezes when the hand in his hair forcefully tugs his head back, exposes the vulnerable line of his throat.

"Can't just say that sweetheart. Can't just say that and not let me fuck you full." Another tug at his hair has him moaning, the cords of his throat standing out. "C'mon, c'mon. You're so wet and so warm for me. I'll make you feel— feel so good." On the last word he tries to thrust up but you were expecting this, dig your knees into the couch to leverage up off of him at the same time he moves forward. You bite down on the soft skin of his throat before pressing a kiss to the forming bruise. Let go of his hair to clasp the side of his neck, rub your thumb over the hinge of his jaw. Let his head fall forward to your chest, resting his brow on your collarbone.

"I said after our conversation, didn't I? And those aren't your only reasons, are they?" you tease. "You can fuck me whenever you want Jay, you just have to be honest first."

He’s torn, you can tell. Caught between chasing his pleasure at the steep price of his darkest fears, but also wanting to do right by you, as misguided as this attempt is. But he’s been so truthful so far, deserves a reward for how good he’s been. So you clamp down, hard, feel his cock brush against that soft part of your gut that makes you shiver with pleasure. Enjoy the punched out sound that wrings from him. Grind your hips down in a filthy circle, once, twice. Then just as suddenly stop. Let him pant and shake, breath warm in the contours of your throat.

When he finally speaks, his voice is so small you can barely hear him. "M'scared." He shudders as he says it. Something in the curve of his spine screams vulnerable, sparks an itch in your fingers to touch and so you do.

"Think 'm too broken for you to love. Think 'm too broken to love you right. Scared one day that the pit's gonna burn too bright and I'll hurt you." Like a broken dam, the words come tumbling out so quickly now. All you can do is keep stroking his back, this giant of a man rendered so small in your arms. "That I'll wake up one day and it'll be my hands covered in your blood." The hate and self-loathing is almost palpable, an oil slick shadow creeping along the floorboards. You could cry from the way his voice shakes and cracks.

“Oh, love.” And this time it’s your voice cracking. “I’ve never thought of you as broken. There’s never going to be a day where I think you’re too broken for me to love. If the day ever comes that you do break, I’ll pick up all the shiny pieces with my bare hands if I have to. I’ll put you back together again even if it cuts me open because that’s what we do Jason. You don’t think there aren’t parts of me I’d rather smooth out too? You don’t have to love me perfectly to love me right.” He’s straightening up now, trying to get a better view of your face, needs to see the truth of your words. His arms have moved around you like a vice, holding on as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. “You’ve never hurt me Jason. Scratch that, you’ve never hurt me before tonight and your stupid, noble attempt to break up with me. But not once have you laid your hands on me and not once have I been afraid of you.” He tries to interrupt, opens his mouth to speak but you’re not finished. You lay finger over his lips, force him to let you say your piece. “But I know that the problem isn’t my trust in you, it’s yours. Besides Black Mask and his thugs, did you hurt anyone else tonight?” At the shake of his head you continue. “There you have it. Even tonight, when you had every reason to spin out of control you didn’t hurt anyone you didn’t mean to. So talk to me. We’ll figure this out. Hell, we’ll find you a therapist if that’s what you want. So trust me, at least, even if you can’t trust yourself.”

You’d swear there were tears in his eyes if you didn’t already know never to trust the early morning light. It’s past dawn now and in the silence Jason looks like something out of a fairytale. The weak golden light makes him look so alive, so vibrant. He sits there still as stone, holding you tight in his lap, dumb with the weight of your love and acceptance. His grin, when it breaks over his face, is a little watery but possibly the most precious thing you’ve ever seen.

“There’s really no scaring you off, is there?” It’s a weak joke, but he’s trying.

“No. There isn’t.” If your words don’t convince him then the tone of satisfaction ringing through them would. Pushing at his shoulders you maneuver him as close to lying down as you can manage on your old couch. Tearing off your oversized sleep shirt (stolen from Jason of course), you’re finally as bare as he is. Perched over him, you enjoy the view of him splayed out like an offering. Reaching for his arm, you find his hand, place it on the curve below your belly and lace your fingers over the back of it. You push his palm down into you to feel the hard swell of where his cock is curving you out, carving out a place in your guts and moulding your cunt to the shape of his cock. You can see the exact moment his restraint snaps when he realizes he’s feeling himself through you. Let him jack knife up into you, feel the way his hardness moves under his palm. Enjoy the way it feels to finally have him drag his cock through you. But he’s trying to be respectful and you haven’t given him the go ahead yet. He restrains himself to shallow rocking motions, unable to stop himself completely, but the effort this is costing him is clear by his straining muscles and wide eyes.

“You paying attention Jay? This—” and this time you clench down on his cock as you press his hand to the shape of your womb just to hear him choke, “is yours. And you left it aching and empty for hours. You made such pretty promises earlier.” For this last part you lean down real close, brace yourself with an arm over his shoulder, wanting to make sure he doesn’t miss a thing. “And our conversation just ended.” He takes it as the permission it is and slams into you, deeper than before like you can feel him in you throat. Hands an iron grip around your waist, pulling you down to meet each sharp rolling thrust. Bullies his cock into you until he finds the angle that has sparks running under your skin, keeps hitting that angle with all the precision and aim of a sniper with his marksmanship. At this angle, his head’s at the perfect height to mouth at your breasts. You can feel him smiling around a nipple as he listens to you moan, only detaching to give the other breast the same kind of enthusiastic attention. Your arm finally gives out, falling down onto his bare chest. Limp, you let him manoeuvre him how he wants you, a rag-doll for your mutual pleasure. All the while he doesn’t stop fucking into you, any semblance of earlier control gone.

“Fuck, sweetheart you don’t know— don’t know what you do to me.” He’s gasping between each word, but the meaning of them still makes their way to your blissed out brain. The slick drag of his cock head along your clenching insides making everything else fade away. You can feel your orgasm building, heat pooling and growing with every thrust. Jason can feel you tightening up around him, knows the signs of your body so well. He starts circling your clit with his fingers, alternating pressure with his thrusts. The long drag and stretch of his cock, almost too much for you to take, never falters. It bumps up against your cervix, fills you up so completely that there’s room for nothing else but it and the pleasure it rips from you. Your release tears through you like wildfire, and for a moment dark spots cloud your vision. You know that you’ve clamped down, tight and hot and slick by the punched out groan from Jason, the way his head falls back onto the couch. But through it all he still keeps pumping into you.

He bites and sucks at your throat, a distraction from your over sensitivity. He leaves your clit alone, stops assaulting all your senses so viciously. Listens to you mewl from how sore and sensitive you are from having taken his cock nearly dry, having held it in you for so long before getting your cunt battered by it. “M so sorry sweetheart. Didn’t wanna hurt you. Gonna— gonna make it up to you. For the rest a m’life.” Now he’s rutting into you, all rhythm and finesse gone in pursuit of his own pleasure. Fire is running through your veins, gathering in your cunt and burning you whole. Your legs are weak and trembling where Jason’s placed them, hands trailing down your thighs to hook under your knees and pull your legs wider. Like this you’re trapped, pinned against him by the spread of your cunt, clit wet and grinding against his pubic bone every time he fucks back into you. You’re so close to another orgasm, quicker than you’ve ever been before.

“Please— Jay please, don’t— don’t stop. Need you. Need you har— harder. Jay. Jay” Jason being Jason, obliges. Your whole body jolts from the force of him inside you. You’re so frustratingly close, dancing on the knife’s edge of oblivion. Jay’s close too. You can tell by the way his breathing speeds up, the way he wraps one arm over your shoulder to keep you in place as he fucks your cunt raw. What sends you both over the edge is Jason taking his other hand and pushing down hard on the swell of your abdomen, the both of you feeling his cock kick and spurt inside of you. Heat paints your walls, and it’s that combined with all consuming pressure of his cock remaking you in his image that has you crying out your orgasm. Jason doesn’t pull out right away. Stays inside you and lets himself grow soft. Kisses featherlight over your face and eyelids. Strokes your flanks and combs his fingers through your hair. Soothes you into a light sleep.

When you wake up, it’s to full sunlight streaming into your bedroom. Turning your head, Jason meets your gaze, propped up on an elbow to watch over you. The both of you are still naked under the blankets but he must have cleaned up the mess between your legs. He pressed a kiss between your eyes before you can get too swept up by your thoughts.

“Hiya sweetheart.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles like this. You think they’d make him look kind when he’s older. “I’m not going anywhere now, I promise.”

“Always?”

“Forever.”

[ourmadmusings]

We’re no worse off than the worse of them - 

It was obvious how soft he was for you. Gwen noticed as soon as she joined, the way his smile lingered long after you’d left, the way he’d follow you around the citadel like a lost puppy when you came back from a particularly risky mission, the way he’d actually listen to your advice and hear you out. His word was not final with you around, an interesting shift in dynamic compared to what she was used to. Hobie and Peter B. saw it, too. The way the two of you worked together on missions was like watching a well-rehearsed dance, to which the steps were borne to you both so naturally. You both played nice together, an odd juxtaposition to his usual lone-wolf routine.  You teased at him, poked fun at the way he’d grumble at the team, reminding him to play nice, they all had the universe’s best interest in mind, no matter how differently they went about showing it.  “So, do you think they’re like, an item?” Gwen asked over lunch, Peter snorted a laugh at the idea.  “Ha - no, I don’t really think so,” Hobie chimed in between bites, a small smile pulling at his full mouth, “I don’t reckon anyone could get that close to the boss-man and live to tell the tale.”  “Guys, come on, he’s not hardly as bad as you’re making him out to be here, give him some credit,” It’s Pav this time, a hum of agreement from Peter, too. “I bet the old man’s got some game under all that scowl.”  “I’m sorry, old man?” As if on-queue, O’Hara stands with hands on his hips over the table, an eyebrow raised and lips drawn tight, “‘m not much older than Peter, you know.” They give a short chorus of gasps, chokes, and a few laughs before O’Hara lets out a heavy sigh, “don’t you all have somewhere you ought to be, or do you enjoy wasting my time having to hunt down your little breakfast club?”  “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. If you keep frowning, you’ll just give yourself wrinkles, Miguel.” You’re quick to peer around his back, winking at the table. “Don’t you have a basket of puppies to spit on?” His eyes widen as he looks down at you, face turned up just enough to catch a toothy grin thrown at him, and attempt to lighten the mood from his scrutiny.  “Aye, that’s a good point,” Hobie finally chimes in again, “I gotta go anyways, Gwen?” He stands and pushes her tray back, an invitation to wander off. She stands and follows, Pav joins, and Peter mumbles something about needing to head home to put Mayday down. They all stare on their way out, watching the disposition shift almost immediately.  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that with them around.” His words hold no heat, he’s got the ghost of a smile playing at his lips and you slide around to face him, hands on your hips to mirror his stance, “well, someone’s gotta show ‘em you’re not all bad. Besides, what’re you gonna do about it?” Your smile stays wide still as you carry on the conversation, a longer one than any of them have seen that hasn’t devolved into an argument.  “Is that an invitation or something?” He’s cheeky about it, “you did hear what else they said, no? They think I have game.”  It’s the raise of his eyebrow that sells it, you can’t help the yelp of a laugh that comes from you, “They’re not wrong, but I don’t think it’s the type of game you’d wanna brag about.” The tips of his ears heat up at your teasing, “are you trying to get me to fight with you?” He’s shifted his weight, a genuine smile gracing his features for once, stooping to face you directly, “oh-ho, is that a threat, old man?”  “Old?! Come on, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”  “Ah, see! There’s that smile I love so much.” Your cheeks heat up at his teasing this time, the kids were right, maybe he did have some game, you thought.   The group stares at the two of you through the interaction, wide-eyed, open-mouthed stares sent between them. 

A few weeks pass and their investigation leads Gwen and Miles to follow the two of you closer. They needed concrete evidence of your relationship before they could accuse you of anything.  “Wait, whaddya mean, he was flirting?” Miles whispers from his place, a healthy few feet away from the commotion. A stray Doc Oc had shifted into another world, you and Miguel had decided it was too risky to send more spider-folk, so he opted to take you along in lieu of a full team.  “I don’t know -shh!” Gwen sticks a finger up over her masked-mouth, “but if he finds out we’re here, he’ll skin us alive. Keep it down.”  Your usual grace is no match for this particular anomaly, a quick strike from one of the metal arms sends you spiraling into a support beam with a sickening thunk. Miguel hollers for you, with no response. Another metal arm is just as fast as it catches your skull and thrashes you into the beam again, you’re limp by the time Miguel can confine him.  Miles and Gwen make a swift exit after that, catching only a glimpse of O’Hara as he rushed over to where you lay, an uncharacteristic panic in his voice as he supports your head and shoulders - “Lyla, send someone, please, hurry.”  Never once had they heard him willingly plead with the AI.  They don’t get an assignment from O’Hara for a while, and feign ignorance when Hobie and Pav ask.

a/n: ok how about a break from the regularly scheduled freak shit I usually post about O’Hara. He deserves some soft shit too smh.  Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 -

[achilles-rage]

Hot Tub: part two

summary: rocker has been flirting with you for months, and finally asks you out after a long day at work. you cave, and finally say yes, somehow ending up really close when you get into his hot tub.

word count: 3.3k

part 1

A/N: a few people asked for a part two so here it is! I'm still not super comfortable writing smut so hopefully this isn't too bad! i’m thinking of maybe writing another part about how they interact at work too so please let me know if you would like to read that! anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: lots of pet names, smut, fingering, cunnilingus (fem!receiving), unprotected sex (do not recommend), no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ ONLY

You giggle as Rocker turns towards the patio door, his expression making him look like he’s on a mission.

“Put me down! I’m too heavy!” you squeal, arms tightening around his neck to balance yourself. You feel your stomach flutter, feeling his strong arms holding you, hands tightly gripping the back of your thighs.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I seem to be doing alright, don’t I?” he teases, tightening his grip on your thighs as he walks into the house.

You can’t help but smile widely as you bury your face in his neck, feeling giddy at his words. He looked strong, of course, but using his strength? On you? It causes desire to pool in your lower belly. You look behind you two as he steps walks through his kitchen, noticing the water dripping off of your bodies and onto his hardwood floors.

“Wait, we’re getting your house all wet, shouldn’t we dry off?” you ask softly, loosening your arms around his neck to look into his eyes. As much as you want to be in his bed immediately, you can’t help but feel a little bad about the mess you’re making.

“I don’t care right now. I’ll clean it up later.” he rasps, eyes full of lust as he meets your gaze.

“Okay…but don’t get mad at me when your whole house is wet.” you tease, biting your lip softly.

“Trust me, darling, I would never get mad at you. Besides, you’re worth every inch of water I’ll have to wipe up.” he tells you with a small smile. He tries to match your teasing tone, but dear god, all he wants right now is you under him, screaming his name. 

Once he reaches his room, he throws you on his bed gently, a predatory look on his face as he stares down at you, studying you. After a moment, he crawls on top of you, hands on either side of your head as he hovers above you.

“Such a gentleman.” you whisper, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he moves, lips parted ever so slightly.

“Just for you, sweetheart,” he starts, one hand moving to slowly caress your cheek before moving down, “no one else gets this side of me.” You feel his fingers ghosting over your neck, down to your chest, then down to your stomach. 

You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his body pressing against yours, his hard length against your lower belly. You let out a shaky breath as you slowly reach for the string of your bikini top, holding eye contact as your breath quickens. Your hand shakes slightly as you slowly pull on the string of your top, self consciousness creeping into you as you watch how intently he’s watching you, how his eyes are staring at your chest hungrily. Your hand hesitates, not quite untying it as you swallow, exhaling softly.

He notices the way you hesitate, leaning down to give you a reassuring kiss before moving a hand to cover the hand you were using to untie your top.

“Just lay back for me, sweetheart. Let me do it for you.” he says softly, hoping to ease your nerves. 

You nod as you take your hand away from your top, letting him take over. He undoes your top, slowly pulling it away from your body, throwing it somewhere in the room. You bite your lip as he stares at your chest intently, face getting hot from his attention focused solely on your bare chest. 

He leans down, kissing your neck before slowly trailing kisses down to your collarbones. His lips move down to one of your breasts, slowly bringing your nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling it as your breath catches in your throat. As his mouth focuses on one breast, his hand moves up to the other, squeezing gently before slowly rolling your nipple between his fingers, eliciting a whine from your lips.

He chuckles softly, pulling back after a few moments to look at your face, his hand moving from your breast down to your stomach, fingertips tracing your stretch marks. Your breath catches in your throat as he gives your stomach attention, and he feels the way you tense under him slightly, but you don’t pull away.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well.” he tells you, eyes trailing down to your stomach, groaning softly as he sees the way your soft tummy moves as you take deep breaths.

He starts to move down your body, kissing your stomach as he goes, looking up to meet your eyes as you sit up on your forearms.

“Look at you. So pretty,” he whispers, continuing to kiss your stomach as he reaches a hand out to undo your swim suit bottoms. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” he tells you, smirking as the first string becomes completely untied. 

“I’m just laying here.” you tease softly, trying to calm your nerves, feeling slightly overwhelmed at all the attention he was giving you. You bite your lip as you see his other hand starting to work on your bottom’s other string, heat pooling between your thighs as his eyes scan you, full of desire.

“Doing just as I asked,” he corrects, matching your teasing tone, gently massaging your hip as he speaks before undoing the second string. He slowly pulls your bottoms off of you, leaving you completely exposed to him. “I think you deserve a reward.” he rasps, starting to kiss up your thighs, hands gripping them as you flinch slightly from the feeling of his stubble on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“I already got that in the hot tub.” you tease softly, biting your lip as he moves closer to your core, breath quickening in anticipation as you look down at him.

“That was just an appetizer, sweetheart. I’ve been wanting to taste you for months.” he tells you, eyes darkening as he eyes your core, licking his lips at the sight.

He reaches up, thumb slowly teasing your clit as his eyes dart back up to yours, smirking as you let out a soft moan.

“Can I?” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your inner thighs, looking up at you with an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“Please.” you get out, your hips starting to buck slightly at the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles over your sensitive bud, aching with need.

“So polite. My pretty girl,” he teases softly, throwing one leg over his shoulder as one of his fingers pushes into you, curling slowly before he adds a second. You let out a whine, your head dropping back as you revel in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He smirks as he notices how wet you are for him, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your clit as his fingers continue to move in and out at a torturously slow pace.

“So needy,” he whispers as you mewl, squirming under him, “and yet you’re still so polite, so patient.”

He hums as he watches you, head thrown back but still leaning up on your forearms. He removes his fingers and leans down to your heat, the flat of his tongue licking a strip down your folds, groaning as he finally tastes you on his tongue. He continues to tease you with his tongue before moving to your clit, sucking on it gently as a high-pitched whine escapes your throat, dropping onto your back completely.

“So sweet,” he rasps, licking his lips before diving back in, his tongue slowly pushing deeper into you, causing you to arch your back. As he continues fucking you with his tongue, he feels your hips start to buck up against him, desperate for more, your hands going to his hair.

He chuckles softly against your core, sending vibrations through you. He grips your hips tighter as you squirm more under him, forcing you to hold still as his lips attach to your clit again.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out as his tongue begins to move quicker, pleasure building up in your stomach as he brings you closer to the edge.

He feels your body start to move under him with more urgency, and sensing that you are nearing the edge, he starts lapping at your cunt with increased fervor.

It doesn’t take long before your high is crashing over you, your grip on his hair tightening slightly as you arch your back, letting out a loud moan as your release lands on his tongue.

His pace slows as he helps you ride out your high, lapping up your juices with his tongue, his thumbs slowly tracing circles on your hips as he holds them in place.

He smiles as he pulls away from you, slowly kissing his way up your body again. You grab his face as he comes up, guiding him up to your mouth. You kiss him hard, still breathing heavily, tasting yourself on his lips as he groans softly. He decides then that that was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He loved the feeling of your thick thighs around his head, your taste on his tongue, how your soft body felt under his fingertips. 

As you continue kissing him, your hands trail down his torso, reaching for the strings of his swim shorts. Feeling your hands on his abdomen, he pulls back, standing at the edge of the bed to undo his shorts, letting them fall down his legs as his member springs free. He steps out of them as you sit up, moving to kneel in front of him on the bed, your eyes hooded with lust as you eye his impressive cock, mouth watering.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you begin to kiss his jaw and neck, then slowly make your way down his torso. Before you get too far down, he puts a finger under your chin, bringing your face back up to his, shaking his head slightly before kissing you softly with a hand wrapped around your neck and the other gripping your hip.

You furrow your brows slightly at this, pulling back from the kiss, your hand moving down his chest again.

“Wanna make you feel good.” you whisper, biting your lip as you think about taking him into your mouth. He shakes his head again as his thumb ghosts your cheek.

“Next time, sweetheart. Need you now.” he rasps, pushing you back down onto the bed, leaning over you again, one knee sliding up between your legs and hiking one of your thighs up to his waist.

You whimper as he hikes your leg up, hands moving up to rest on his shoulders. You look up at him, spreading your legs further as he reaches down, slowly teasing your folds with the head of his cock.

“God, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you like you’re a goddamn work of art.” he whispers, which earns him a whine from your lips. You look up at him with hooded eyes, hips bucking slightly as he teases you, still feeling sensitive from your orgasm. 

“Yeah? What exactly have you been dreaming about?” you tease breathlessly, growing desperate to feel him inside of you.

“Having you wrapped around me, clenching around me, cumming on my cock.” he whispers, slowly pushing into you, a satisfied whimper leaving your lips. His head drops to the crook of your neck as you take all of him, pressing a soft kiss to your neck as your grip tightens on his shoulders, getting used to his size. 

Once your grip on his shoulders loosens, he takes this as the okay to move, slowly rocking his hips into yours, loving the way you feel stretched out around him.

He increases his speed as your whines get louder, needier, moaning into your ear as his hips snap into yours.

“Let me hear you, princess. Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.” he whispers into your ear, a hand going down to your thigh, pulling it up higher on his waist, allowing him to get that much deeper.

You let out a loud whimper as you arch your back, nails digging into his back, moaning his name softly.

“Touch me.” you plead, looking up at him with desperate eyes. He chuckles softly at your words, reaching down to tease your clit, groaning as he feels you clench around him, starting to feel close to reaching his climax.

Your brain feels so clouded by him that you’re unable to form words, only able to focus on the pleasure he was giving you. You bite your lip as you feel your high approaching again, your hips beginning to buck up into his again, your leg wrapping around his waist tighter.

“You gonna make a mess for me, pretty girl?” he asks, a cocky expression on his face as he notices you nearing the edge, his thumb moving in quicker circles against your clit.

You nod, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back, your high quickly approaching.

“You’re gonna have to ask. Do you think you can do that? Can my pretty girl ask properly?” he says in an almost degrading tone, fingers leaving your clit to grab your jaw, forcing your eyes open. He loved the way you looked right now, spread open for him and desperate.

“Wanna come on your cock, please. Want you to fill me up, please. Need to feel you.” you mumble, looking up at him with doe eyes as you feel his hips start to move in uneven thrusts.

He groans at your words, the way you’re clenching around him paired with your words sending him over the edge.

You groan as you feel him filling you up, his body tensing as he emptied into you, before he continues to rub your clit faster, causing you to fall over the edge as well.

He groans, face falling back into the crook of your neck as he feels you clench around him, his hips slow as you both come down from your high, both trying to catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, keeping his cock inside of you.

You close your eyes, swallowing as you try to catch your breath, biting your lip as you smile softly at his words.

He stays inside of you for a few moments, pressing soft kisses to your neck, jaw, and face, before he pulls out. You whine softly, feeling empty as you open your eyes, looking up at him as he stands up from the bed.

“Gonna go get something to clean you up,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “be right back.”

He disappears into the bathroom as you lay on his bed, your breath slowing down as you sit back up on your forearms, smiling at him weakly as he walks back into the room with a wet cloth.

He takes a moment to look at you, trying to burn the scene into his head, as if for some reason you were going to tell him that this was just a one time thing. He takes in the fucked out look on your face. The way your chest and tummy are rising and falling as you breathe. Your legs still spread, your mixed releases slowly dripping out of your cunt and onto his sheets.

He smiles softly to himself before moving to gently clean up the cum that had made its way down your thighs, kissing your plush stomach as he moves the cloth over your skin. 

Once he finishes, he throws the cloth to the side, crawling into bed beside you. He lays on his back, urging you to lay your head on his chest, letting one arm wrap around your shoulders, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your skin. The other hand moves to your thigh, moving your leg over his, his fingers gently squeezing your thigh as he feels your weight half on top of him.

After a while of enjoying each other's presence; listening to each other's breathing, and feeling one another’s heartbeats, you lift your head to look up at him, chin resting on his chest.

“What happens now? At work?” you whisper, slightly nervous, but desperately trying to hide it. While you knew it wasn’t as easy as just simply telling everyone, you desperately wanted it to happen. Despite you being wrapped in his arms, fingers gently tracing patterns on his chest, there was still a hint of doubt that he wanted anything more than a night with you. You were prepared to follow his lead, whatever it may be.

“Oh, you’re worried the team will find out, huh?” he teases softly, not picking up on the nervousness, your SWAT training coming in handy at this moment. “It can be our little secret.” he whispers, the hand on your thigh moving up to your side, tickling it.

You giggle as he tickles you, swatting his hand away, earning a chuckle from him as he moves his hand back to your thigh. You turn your head away from him, resting your cheek on his chest, smile disappearing from your face slowly.

“Is that what you want?” you whisper, nervousness slipping into your voice, sadness creeping into your eyes as the fear of this being a one time thing grows.

“Of course not, sweetheart. I wanna kiss you like you’re my goddamn wife.” he whispers, grabbing your chin, forcing your eyes up to meet his.

“Yeah?” you whisper as he forces your chin up, a hopeful look in your eyes. He really does want you. 

“Yeah, but there’s protocols for this. Honestly, I have no idea what to do.” he tells you seriously, feeling your face heat up under his fingers, looking down at you with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I guess we can’t tell anyone.” you whisper, sadness filling your eyes again as the realization hits you. You wanna be able to be with him without worrying about it, but in your line of work, this kind of thing is definitely against the code of conduct. You weren’t sure what to say. As much as you want to keep seeing him, in whatever way you could, you weren’t sure how much he was willing to sneak around.

“It doesn’t mean we have to stop.” he whispers to you, equally as unsure.

God, he wanted you so bad. In any way you’d let him have you. If you wanted to keep seeing him in secret, and not just for sex, he’d jump at that. He would take anything you allowed him to have.

“Okay,” you reply, a smile growing on your face as you bite your lip. “Do you mean just the sex? Because I’m okay with that, I just wanna know.” you whisper, averting your gaze from his eyes.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as his grip tightens on your chin, forcing you to look back into his eyes, a smirk on his face.

“How can someone so gorgeous be so dense?” he teases softly, squeezing your shoulder, a smirk growing on his face. “I want you. All of you. I don’t just want sex, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I just thought-” you whisper, trailing off, your face growing hot as the smile on your face grows.

“Thought what? Baby, I don’t know what else I need to say to prove it to you. You remember me telling you how I’ve been flirting with you for months, right? I meant every word I’ve said, so don’t give me that ‘oh, I just thought’ bullshit.” he tells you, trying to mimic your tone, earning a soft giggle from you.

You rest your cheek on his cheek again, arm around his torso tightening slightly, a wide smile across your face as it sinks in. He wants you. You want each other.

At that moment, work protocol didn’t matter. Because your feelings for each other could not be stopped, and neither of you would stop them, even if you could.

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[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Bound by Love

Pairing: Poly Marauders x Plus Size!reader

Warning: fluff, angst due to insecurities

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, i love my babies (marauders are amazing and i might start writing more for them)

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

As you sat on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit boys' dorm room, your mind replayed every interaction you’d seen tonight. The Halloween party in the Gryffindor common room had been everything it promised to be—lively, crowded, and filled with laughter. But somewhere along the way, it all became too much. Too many people, too many bright, perfect smiles.

James, Remus, and Sirius were the life of the party, drawing attention as they always did. They didn’t have to try; their laughter and charm brought everyone in. And tonight, that included a handful of girls, each one seemingly more dazzling than the last. They'd floated around your boyfriends, flashing flirtatious smiles and tossing their hair, all of them effortlessly slender and glowing with confidence. You couldn’t help but notice the differences between yourself and them.

After excusing yourself quietly, you’d slipped away to the boys' room, hoping the stillness would quiet the insecurities bubbling up in your chest. But they only grew louder in the silence.

The door opened softly, and you looked up to see James stepping in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. Relief filled his gaze, followed by a flicker of concern as he took in your expression. "Hey, love. Are you alright?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

Before you could answer, Remus and Sirius entered, their eyes also searching until they found you. Sirius’s brow furrowed, and he crossed the room, sitting beside you on the bed, immediately pulling you into his side.

Remus took a seat in front of you, his hand resting gently on your knee. “We noticed you slipped out,” he murmured, his eyes soft and steady, grounding. “Is something bothering you?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, making some excuse about feeling tired. But their faces were open, encouraging, each of them fully focused on you. You took a shaky breath, struggling to find the right words.

“It’s nothing, really,” you began, though you knew they wouldn’t buy it. “I just… at the party, I saw how… how those girls were looking at you. They were beautiful, and…” Your voice trailed off as you shrugged, looking down. “They were all so much thinner than I am.”

A silence settled over the room, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then James shifted closer, reaching out to take your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Love, I don’t know if you see yourself the way we do,” he said softly. “But you are… everything to us. And it has nothing to do with what you think you ‘should’ look like.”

Sirius tightened his arm around you, his gaze serious. “You know what, love? Every one of those girls could line up, and none of them would make us feel what you do. Not even close. And believe me, it’s not like I haven’t had options.”

Remus shot him a warning glance, but you chuckled softly despite yourself. That was Sirius—blunt and unfiltered, always saying exactly what he meant. He turned to you, his face softening, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. “What I mean is, you’re you. We’re lucky for it.”

Remus’s hand was still resting on your knee, his thumb brushing over it in a slow, comforting rhythm. “I know it can be easy to compare yourself to others. But you are exactly who we want—who we love.”

James nodded in agreement. “You don’t have to change a single thing. We don’t want someone else, someone who fits some silly standard.” His face softened, his hazel eyes full of warmth. “When we look at you, we see the person who makes us laugh, who knows just how to lift us up, who’s there when things get hard.”

You felt your face grow warm, and you tried to pull back, embarrassed. But Sirius held you tighter, as if he could feel the doubt still lingering. He rested his chin on top of your head, his voice a gentle murmur. “You’re ours, yeah? And we wouldn’t have it any other way. I mean, come on—have you seen Remus in the mornings? Practically a werewolf.”

Remus rolled his eyes but didn’t pull back from your gaze. “You know he’s not wrong,” he said with a small smile. “I’d be an absolute mess without you.”

James squeezed your hand, his voice a bit lower, more vulnerable. “We’d all be messes without you.”

You looked at them, each of them radiating warmth, grounding you in a way you’d never quite felt before. You still felt insecure, but the weight was lessened, slowly easing as their words settled in.

Remus leaned forward, his hand slipping into yours, and he spoke quietly, as if he were revealing a secret. “You’re not just ‘good enough,’ love. You’re our favorite. For everything you are, everything you bring to us. We’re better for it.”

James’s gaze grew more intense, and he moved even closer, his voice soft but sure. “We chose you. And we’ll choose you again and again, without hesitation.”

Sirius let out a soft sigh, pulling you even closer. “You’re stuck with us, really. And I don’t care if I have to say it every day—we want you exactly as you are.”

The air felt thick with the weight of their words, but as they held you close, the ache in your chest slowly loosened. You knew this wouldn’t be the last time you’d struggle with self-doubt. But you also knew that every time you fell, they’d be there to lift you back up.

After a moment, James nudged you with his shoulder, his usual playful smirk returning. “Alright, love, enough heavy stuff. Since you ditched us at the party, I think it’s only fair you owe us a dance.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “In here? There’s hardly any room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius said, standing up and grabbing your hand. He tugged you to your feet, pulling you into an exaggerated waltz stance as he hummed a tune. “Besides, I’m the best dancer in this room.”

Remus rolled his eyes, standing up as well. “Hardly,” he said, but he stepped closer, sliding his hand into yours as he joined in.

James grinned, joining the fray as he took your other hand, spinning you around with dramatic flair. The room filled with laughter as they spun you between them, each of them taking turns leading as they filled the small space with their presence, making it feel like the most magical place in the world.

As the laughter subsided, the four of you sank back onto the bed in a heap, their arms wrapping around you. They were still close, grounding you, making you feel more seen and loved than you ever had before. You could feel each of them, anchoring you in a way you hadn’t even realized you’d needed.

And in that moment, the insecurities that had weighed on you seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of their love wrapped around you like a shield.

James pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re ours, love. And that’s never going to change.”

As you lay there, wrapped in their arms, you knew you’d always have this. They’d always be there, holding you up, making sure you remembered how loved you were. And, slowly but surely, you found yourself starting to believe it.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Please consider liking and reblogging!- Midnight💜

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 4: Her Walls.

Summary: The therapy session is torture for Wednesday, made even worse by the fact that you seem to enjoy it.

Warnings: NONE STILL NOT IN A MOOD TO BRING THE ANGST!!!!

Previous ChapterWorklist.

Wednesday fully expected you to be insufferable during the maths class. She braced herself for your annoying chatter, the constant whining about how boring the class was, and pointless attempts to get her attention. But to her surprise, you were... tolerable.

A part of her kept glancing at you, expecting something, waiting for you to break the silence and turn back to throw some insipid remark her way. But you never did. Instead, your head remained down, taking notes as if nothing else existed in the world but the math equations she learned years ago.

It felt.. weird.. Wednesday couldn't understand it.

After class, Wednesday didn’t see you. Of course, your schedule was different. She was relieved, or at least, she told herself she was. Other students, having witnessed her outburst in the quad, avoided her path as if she were a rabid animal. Good. She preferred it that way.

Still, as she walked into fencing class, she couldn’t help but notice Bianca’s absence. Pathetic. Bianca could’ve at least tried to channel her anger into something productive, like giving Wednesday a real challenge. Instead, she chose self-pity. It was disappointing, really. But there was another problem: none of the other students wanted to spar with her either. Even the coach didn’t bother forcing anyone to step up. So Wednesday sat through the entire class, watching others clumsily clash swords, her grip tightening on her sabre with each passing second. She’s going to maim Bianca next time they’re in the same room.

By the time she returned to her room, she felt a strange, simmering tension in her chest. She washed up, as usual, but for some reason, she found herself standing in front of Enid’s mirror, checking her appearance. Why? Why did it even matter? Annoyed with herself, she forced her mind back to the present.

It's time for torture and not the good kind.

When she arrived at the therapy building, she saw you leaning against the wall outside, cheap headphones covering your ears. Your eyes were closed as you hummed softly, lost in your own little world. Wednesday’s gaze lingered on you longer than it should have. She took in every detail—the way your lips moved ever so slightly with the melody, the way your fingers tapped gently against your leg in rhythm, the faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

The sound of your humming... it did something to her. She couldn’t place the feeling. But there it was again, like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch. “Hey,” you greeted, pulling your headphones off. “So, what’s the plan for today’s therapy session? Maybe you can tell me more about how much you don’t care.” Wednesday gritted her teeth. "The plan is for you to sit quietly and not bother me." You chuckled, clearly not taking her seriously. “Got it. This is going to be fun.”

David beamed and clapped his hands. "Wednesday! Finally found a partner, huh? That’s great! I’m so proud of you! The first step is always finding a friend." Wednesday’s eyes darkened, and she shot him a deadpan stare. “If I were you, I wouldn’t confuse necessity with friendship. We’re not going to hold hands and braid each other's hair.” David's smile remained annoyingly the same, “Well, you know, every relationship starts somewhere!” Wednesday muttered something unintelligible under her breath, most likely about wishing she could bury him somewhere. You stood beside her, fighting the urge to laugh at the interaction. Your lips curled into a smirk, and you elbowed Wednesday lightly. "See, he's already proud of you. That's progress!" “Be silent, or I will make you regret ever breathing,” Wednesday hissed in return, but you just chuckled. David’s smile was still the same, "Well! Let’s get started, everyone!"

The room was already filled with other unfortunate souls, each paired off with their so-called “partners.” They all sat in a circle, as though that would somehow make this agonizing process more bearable. “Alright, everyone’s here, so let’s get started!” David said, clapping his hands together. “Today’s session is all about why we chose our therapy partners. The person who’s helping us on our journey to be better, more balanced people. Alex, why don’t you go first?” Alex scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, so, Milo’s, like, my best friend, y’know? He helps me not punch walls when I’m mad at my dad. He’s super chill and doesn’t, like, ask too many questions. That’s why I picked him.” Milo just nodded, looking half asleep. “Yeah. We vibe.”

Wednesday felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. She glanced at you, expecting to see a similar expression of exasperation, but instead, you were trying (and failing) to stifle your laughter.

David nodded with excessive enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful, Alex! Learning to control our impulses is such an important step. Okay, Rick, your turn.” “Well, I chose Ashley because I know where she hid the body,” Rick said casually, causing Ashley to elbow him sharply in the ribs. The room went silent, everyone staring at them. Wednesday's interest piqued for the first time since arriving. Congratulations, you are hired. David, slightly flustered, cleared his throat. “I... I think we’re going to pretend we didn’t hear that, Moving on! Brooke, how about you?” Brooke, a girl with bright pink hair, clasped her hands together dramatically. “I chose Mike because... because I believe we’re destined to help each other. You know, like twilight.” Mike blinked at her, clearly bewildered. “You met me like, ten minutes ago.” “Exactly! Fate.” Brooke grinned widely, completely unbothered by Mike’s confusion.

Wednesday facepalmed, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her whole before this circus of a session continued.

“Okay, Carl and Eddie, how about you?” David asked, his enthusiasm unshaken. “I chose Eddie because... well... he’s my cousin. And our family said if we don’t start ‘working on our issues,’ they’ll stop letting us come to Thanksgiving.” Eddie nodded solemnly. “Can’t lose the turkey, man.”

Wednesday clenched her fists, trying to maintain her composure. This was, without a doubt, the worst form of torture she’d ever endured. Worse than Bianca. Worse than Enid’s surprise hugs. Worse than your smile— “And last but not least, Wednesday and Y/n,” David chirped, turning to her expectantly. “Tell us why you chose your partner!” Wednesday groaned, already dreading this. She didn’t choose you. She got stuck with you, and that was an entirely different situation. Not that it mattered. David would twist it into some sick, heartwarming story about growth and friendship. “I helped her kidn—” You quickly cut Wednesday off “She helped me take care of my brother’s kids. So, I’m helping her in return.” The room fell silent. Wednesday’s eyes snapped toward you, narrowing dangerously. Taking care of kids? That was your excuse? Of all the ridiculous things you could’ve said, that was what you went with? And yet, somehow, it worked. The group nodded as if you’d just revealed some profound truth. David, predictably, beamed. “That’s wonderful! Helping each other is exactly what this program is about!” Wednesday’s jaw clenched. She hated this. She hated the entire scenario. But what she hated most was how easily you had manipulated the situation. How easily you had turned the group’s attention in your favor. You were playing a game—a game she was determined not to lose. You leaned back in your chair, clearly enjoying yourself. Wednesday shot you a look that could’ve killed, but you merely smirked. You are insufferable, she thought, her irritation reaching new heights. And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, David announced the next activity: a communication exercise.

This day just keeps getting better.

The collective groan that echoed through the room was almost palpable. Even the most upbeat participants looked deflated. Wednesday, however, remained silent, though her jaw clenched slightly at the thought of partaking in this ridiculous charade. David, as usual, didn’t notice the room's resistance. He pressed on, walking over to the whiteboard and scribbling “Empathy is Key” in bold, enthusiastic letters. “Remember, it’s all about empathy! We’re learning to understand each other better, to grow emotionally, to have control over our emotions, to understand other's emotions and to support our partners in their personal journeys.” You leaned over toward Wednesday and whispered "This must be your favorite part." Before Wednesday could reply with the dark retort brewing in her mind, David began calling out pairs to start the exercise. "Alright, let’s have Rick and Ashley go first. Rick, why don’t you tell us about a recent challenge you’ve faced?" Rick, still smirking from his earlier comment about the hidden body, shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I’m struggling with how to keep my drug selling a secret from my mom.” David shot him a look, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking. “Okay, maybe let’s keep it a little more… grounded, Rick. Something real, something you’ve been working through emotionally.” Rick rolled his eyes but finally relented. “Fine, fine. I guess it’s dealing with my anger issues. Like, I tend to fly off the handle whenever I get stressed out at school, and I took it out on my mom the other day. I didn’t mean to, but I just snapped, and now I feel kind of guilty about it.” David nodded, his smile now one of understanding. “That’s a great start, Rick. Now, Ashley, how do you think Rick felt in that moment?” Ashley, who had been mostly silent up to this point, glanced nervously at Rick before speaking softly. “I think... I think he felt frustrated and maybe overwhelmed. Like, he didn’t know how to deal with the pressure, so he lashed out.”

David beamed. “Exactly! It’s about understanding where the other person is coming from. Well done, both of you!”

Wednesday groaned inwardly. What's next? Group hugs?

One by one, each pair shared their challenges. Most of the stories were mundane—failed tests, fights with siblings, petty grievances about social media. But Wednesday barely paid attention. Instead, she was counting down the seconds until it would be over.

And then, it was your turn.

David turned to you with that same eager expression he’d had since the beginning. “Alright, Y/N and Wednesday! Who wants to go first?”

You gave Wednesday a playful nudge. “Ladies first?” Wednesday shot you a cold glare, her fingers tightening around the edge of her chair. “No. You will go first. I refuse to partake in this farce until absolutely necessary.” You chuckled but didn’t argue. “Alright, alright.” You turned to David, scratching the back of your head as you thought for a moment. “A challenge I’ve faced recently, huh? Well, I guess... it’s been trying to balance everything. You know, school, family stuff, and figuring out what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. It feels like everything’s happening at once and... everything is going extremely fast." David nodded sympathetically. “That’s a very real struggle, Y/N. It’s common to feel overwhelmed when there’s so much happening at once. Wednesday, how do you think Y/N felt in that moment?”

Wednesday stared at you, her expression unreadable. She didn’t want to indulge in this ridiculous exercise, but she knew David wouldn’t let them leave until they participated. So, she took a slow breath and answered, her tone flat and clinical.

“You felt lost,” she said simply. “Like you were being pulled in different directions, unsure of which path to take. You hate having pressure, having to choose between two things, I won't say it's selfishness, it's curiosity."

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the accuracy of her response. For a moment, there was a flicker of something between you- something in Wednesday's eyes that you couldn't catch.

Wednesday’s walls went up again, and her gaze hardened.

David’s eyes widened, clearly impressed. “Wow, Wednesday! That was... really insightful! You nailed it.”

“I only said what was obvious,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

David, clearly overjoyed by how “well” the exercise had gone, clapped his hands together again. “That was fantastic, everyone! Great job today. I think we’re really making progress. I have to go out of town tomorrow so gonna have to move our schedule" Finally some good news. "Don't worry, something special awaits then." OF COURSE "Also, it will be the other person’s turn to discuss their recent challenge next.” He glanced pointedly at Wednesday, who sighed inwardly.

You stood up, stretching lazily before turning to Wednesday with a grin. “They are kinda.. umm.. different.” Wednesday stared at you blankly. “I’m considering taking out a restraining order on every single person in this room.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re fun, you know that?” “I am not fun,” Wednesday spat, clearly disgusted by the notion. You laughed, clearly enjoying her irritation. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, you did pretty well. You’re good at reading people.” Wednesday rolled her eyes. “Reading people is easy. Dealing with them is the real challenge.” You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Is that your way of saying I’m a challenge?” Wednesday glared at you, she felt something inside, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge yet. “You are an inconvenience. One that I intend to rectify.” You chuckled again. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment."

As you both stepped out of the therapy building, you took a deep breath, savoring the brief moment of freedom from the exhausting session. Wednesday walked beside you, her silence heavy but not unwelcome. Without thinking too much, you broke the silence. "Hey, want to grab a coffee?" Wednesday stopped in her tracks, her dark eyes narrowing as she turned to face you. “What is with you?” You blinked, confused by her sudden sharpness. “What?” “This.” She waved a hand between you. “All this. You trying to spend time with me. Your part is just the therapy, so why do you keep pushing for more?” Her question caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected her to be so direct about it. There was an answer you could give, one you weren’t quite ready to say aloud yet, but you couldn’t let the silence stretch too long. “I didn’t mean to offend you with my forwardness,” you began, choosing your words carefully. “I just wanted to get to know you, since we barely had the chance since yesterday.” “Why? Why do you want to know me? What is your real intention?” “Wednesday...” you sighed, searching for the right words. “People can get close to you without any real intention, you know?” “No. They always have an intention. Tyler did.” The name felt heavy, and for a moment, there was a glint of something in her expression—bitterness. “The sheriff’s boy from Weathervane Café?” you asked, “He always gave me the creeps. What’s with him though? I heard he was the monster killing people in the woods. Was he close?” “He tried to court me.” You winced. “Gee, you have a taste.” Wednesday rolled her eyes, her irritation palpable. “I didn’t know he was the Hyde then, idiot.” “Ah yes, the classic ‘your love interest is the killer all along.’” She shot you a glare. “What now?” “Nothing,” you waved it off. “Anyway, I can’t turn into a Hyde, but I do wish I could turn into a cat and sleep all day. Aaaand, you can give me some remark about how you’d rather drink acid than have coffee with me. I wouldn’t mind. I would just go for the coffee alone.” You turned and began walking away, pretending to dismiss the whole interaction casually. You could feel her eyes boring into the back of your head. What were you even doing? Pushing Wednesday like this? Wednesday wasn't even wrong, you did have an intention but it wasn’t something you could explain—at least, not yet.

After a few steps, you suddenly felt her presence beside you. Surprised, you glanced over at her.

“I am only going because I want to,” Wednesday muttered. “And you are paying for the coffee.”

Next Chapter [Sorry for the late update, Had to cook]

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 16. Rescue

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, cages, pet trope, power dynamic, home invasion, guns, death threat, fear of heights, being mocked

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll Winner: Pet liberation rescue

Note: The last chapter ended up being over 7000 words so I decided to split it into two parts so there will be another chapter after this one :)

Special thanks to @alittlewhump for helping me edit <3 thank you

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

The weeks blur together with no chances to escape. You’ve almost stopped trying. Ashley doesn’t leave any cracks or openings to even think about slipping past her. You’ve stopped looking for them, too tired to keep up with being constantly alert. 

The days are mostly the same. Ashley spends a lot of her time at work, and when she gets home she usually coddles Hamster and leaves you alone. Thankfully. Maybe she’s gotten bored of you, only using you for her photoshoots. You’re just another prop to her.

Sometimes she brings friends over who all coo over Hamster, and often torment you. None of them will help you either. They don’t seem to like your bitter attitude. That’s not how pets are supposed to act apparently. 

You can’t tell if you’re successfully talking Hamster into freeing you, or if she enjoys keeping you locked up as much as Ashley does. Every time you mention anything Hamster shakes her head and stares at you with that stupid love struck smile on her face. You would think you could use her crush to your advantage, but so far it just makes her more reluctant to let you go. Being mean to her doesn’t work either because it puts you on Ashley’s bad side, and you end up being isolated. So you opt with trying to get Hamster to side with you. 

You’re afraid the plan is a lost cause, but all you can do is keep working on getting Hamster to help you. She’s interested in meeting more people your size, so that's what you usually tell her about in hopes she’ll get curious enough to go with you someday. 

Tonight is like any other. Ashley has Hamster cuddled up to her on the couch while they watch a sappy romance movie. You’re as hidden as you can be inside the cage, but admittedly you’re also watching the screen from an angle since the t.v. is in view from the kitchen counter. 

The movie is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. Ashley gets up to put Hamster away in her cage, walking over to answer it.

The door flies open, almost hitting her as she springs backwards. Three masked strangers rush into the house, surrounding her. One of them grabs her from behind with a gun pointed to her head, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Scream and we’ll shoot,” they hiss into her ear. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! 

You nestle down further into the bedding, but you have nowhere to go if they want to grab you. It's hot and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe under the weight of it smothering you. 

Looking through the haze of the fluff you see Hamster staring openly with no cover. Making herself an easy target with her mouth gaped open in shock. She doesn’t move. She makes no attempt to hide herself at all. 

Stupid girl! 

She takes a breath to scream and your whole body clenches, trying to ready yourself to be noticed.

When Hamster shrieks, Ashley struggles and begs them to leave Hamster alone. Ashley is immediately shoved out of sight by two of the humans while the third looks to see where the source of the shrill scream came from. 

The intruder walks up to Hamster’s cage, and when they see her they pull their mask down to reveal a pale freckled face. Concern written all over it. “Hey. Shh, it's okay. We’re not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

Hamster scrambles back, tripping over fluff. She reaches her arm out towards the room Ashley was forced into, and looks back to the human while bawling. The message is as clear as usual, that Hamster wants Ashley. 

“She’ll be okay. I’m sorry you can’t see her, but they won’t hurt her. I need to know where the other boy your size is.” The human makes no moves to give Hamster what she wants. 

Hamster’s wide eyes flick towards your cage, and she shakes her head. It’s too late, the human already knows that’s where you’re hidden and peers through the bars to try to find you. Their brown eyes search every corner of the cage as their voice overwhelms you. “Hey. I’m here to help you. Are you in there?”

They must see you shaking because their gaze is concerningly close to where you’re hiding underneath the bedding. You don’t believe them for a second and refuse to move from the spot to let them know where you are. 

One of the other humans pokes their head out from the hallway, and says, “They’re in the cages. Just the two.” 

You’re a fool to think you could go unnoticed at this point. Dread trickles throughout your body, and you have nothing to grab onto to steady yourself. Nothing but white fluff between your fists. 

The human next to you nods once, just a flick of their chin, then picks up both of your cages by the handles at the top. Your stomach churns from the sudden shift of gravity. You cover your mouth with your hands to stay quiet, but Hamster has other ideas. She’s wailing pitifully and the human’s words of reassurance do nothing to stop her. 

You’re both royally fucked. 

Ashley scares you, sure, but you know how much worse it could be. So, so, so much worse. Ashley can be cruel, but she’s not sadistic. Horror stories flash through your mind of humans who inflict pain for fun, and a rush of dizziness has you seeing stars. Suddenly the thought of staying with Ashley doesn’t seem so bad compared to what could be. 

The human takes both of you into the back of a van and places the cages down gently onto one of the leather side seats. They sit on the floor with their legs crossed, eye level with you and Hamster. They take their toque off, and underneath they have a curly blonde mohawk. ”My name is Ratty. I’m here to take you somewhere safe,” they repeat those words: Safe. 

It’s grounding in a way, being promised safety, but your skepticism has your heart pounding. There’s no way what this human is saying is true.

The van starts rumbling, and you’re being driven away that moment. The other two people are in the front seats behind protective glass, so its just Ratty in the back with you. 

The human in front of you already knows you’re in the cage, so you decide to face your fears and show yourself. You throw fluff away from you, and come out with the most defiant glare you can muster while your heart hammers against your chest painfully. “Let us go!” You growl, “You have to let us go, let me out of this cage!” 

“I promise I will. Hold on. Let me take a look at this.” To your surprise, they grab the lock that's on the cage door, looking at it lazily. “Are either of you hurt anywhere?” 

You shake your head instantly, in fear that this human might want to touch you with prodding fingers. You look over to Hamster to see if she answers the same, but she doesn’t answer at all. Instead she just stares in horror, stuck in place by fear. It’s that same look that made you protect her from that mouse. The same look that got you into this mess in the first place. 

You’re trembling, but seeing her even more terrified face prompts the next question. You ask it for her, to ease some of that panic, but you’re curious enough yourself to want to know. “W-what did you do to Ashley? Is she uh… Okay?” 

“She’ll be fine. No one hurt her,” Ratty says, almost sounding bored. 

“Why did you do that?! Are you the pet liberation?” You draw your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, “How did you find us?”

Ratty stops fidgeting with the lock and sits back to talk. “Yeah, we’re basically pet lib. Something like that. I saw your picture on her blog. It was hard to miss.” 

“Are you actually going to let us go?” A lump forms in your throat and you find it hard to swallow. 

“If that’s what you want, I promise I will. We can drop you off somewhere if you have a place to go. Or we can take you to a shelter if you don’t, but you can’t go back to Ashley, or you shouldn't anyway.” 

You frown slightly, testing. “What if we did go back?” 

Ratty shrugs, staying frustratingly vague. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Why? Do you want to?” 

“No,” you say flatly, “but she might.” 

Ratty looks to Hamster who’s now curled up weeping in the corner. “I understand,” Ratty says, “Are you two close? You and Hamster?”

Hamster nods just as you’re about to say no, and you realize there's a possibility of the two of you being separated. You don’t trust this human enough to take Hamster anywhere by herself, and you have no idea what they would do with her. “Yeah, she’s with me. So you can let us go together and I’ll take care of her. We’re not going back to Ashley.”

“Alright. Is there a place you want to go?” 

You think of a known landmark that's close enough to some people you know, and request that. An apartment building in town that you know the name of. 

“That sounds great,” Ratty says, distractedly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I want to get you some supplies first, maybe some clothes. You’re both half naked, and from what I'm guessing she’s never been outside before…” 

You ask again with a frown, “How do you know all this?” 

Ratty shrugs. “Ashley posts a lot on her blog. Look, I really don’t feel comfortable dropping you two off on the side of the road with no supplies. I’m sorry, you’ll have to hang tight for a bit while I get you some from the store. We’ll be quick. Anything you want?” 

You glare at Ratty, but they’re right. Especially if Hamster decides to be difficult during the commute to your group of people. “I want a knife,” you start off with, testing. 

“Sure.” Ratty types that into their phone and looks at you expectantly, waiting for the rest of the list. 

You’re stunned at how seemingly compliant this human is, still feeling skeptical. You throw out a few more suggestions, wondering if there would be a catch to the request. “Hair ties, this size.” You hold out your hands to demonstrate. “Fabric, thread, plastic wrap, matches.” You list a few things from the top of your head, then add, “doll clothes.” 

“Gotcha.” Ratty types the rest up, and knocks on the safety glass to the front seat, asking them to stop at a store.

“Can you let me out already?” You ask impatiently. Ratty hadn’t made a move to take the lock off, and you are still trapped in the cage. 

“Uhh… I’m gonna be real with you, champ. If I let you out now I don’t trust that you won’t take off right away and get yourself killed somewhere in this van. I don’t want that on my conscience.”  

Your face grows hot, and you retort, “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

Ratty chuckles, which just adds to your anger. “No. I think you’re scared. Which is worse. I’ll be right back.” They change their shirt and put on a pair of glasses, altering their appearance well enough to not be recognized as the home invader from earlier. 

Light floods the room of the van as the human exits, then the door closes again leaving you still trapped with nothing but Hamster’s blubbering cries. 

You scoff loudly, “Well aren’t they a fucking delight.” You crawl over to Hamster. Her cage is right beside you, but you don’t know what to say. Your nerves are shot, and comforting people makes your skin itch. “You’re not alone, Hamster. Ashley didn’t get shot, she’s fine. So… Take a deep breath. I’m not gonna ditch you.” 

Staring into her cage, you wonder if you can get her busy. “You see that hammock? Take it down and roll it up with some food in it. We’ll need it if that human is telling the truth.” 

When Hamster doesn’t move you start snapping your fingers to get her attention. She startles, then moves sluggishly as if both your lives aren’t at stake right now. You sigh. This is going to be a long week of travel, especially if she slows you down.

Ratty’s back before long with a small bag of goods. “Anything I can help you do?” They ask as they show you everything. The clothes are a cheap brand- a little flashy for trying to hide in- but good enough for now. 

“Give me my knife,” you demand. 

Ratty slips a needle in the cage for you. It will have to do… They also break an exacto blade into manageable pieces for you to use.

The human helps you get all of your supplies ready, and you help Hamster with her clothes through the bars, wrapping her arms and legs in floral tape to keep them protected. You tie her hair back into a fluffy ponytail, and wrap fabric and plastic around her feet for makeshift shoes. The hammock is tied around her like a sash. 

You do the same for yourself and wrap as many of the supplies as you can fit into your own sash to bring with you. Ratty also gives you a tiny glass jar with water in it that you tie around your hip. It's heavy, but needed. 

You’re as ready as you can be and look for the human’s approval to let you go. With the way the human is smugly staring down at you with a soft smile you’d say they were pretty pleased with the way you both look. 

The van stops at your destination, and Ratty asks one more time, “You sure you’ll be okay?” 

“If you let me out of this cage, yes,” you huff. 

“Okay… Hold on. I’ll stand watch for a minute to make sure you’re safe too,” they assure you, and lift the cages out of the van. You have seconds to find your bearings, and watch to see what side of the building you’re on when Ratty sets the cages down next to some bushes. 

Ratty then flips the latches on the bottom of the cages to remove the whole top part of them. “I didn’t need to break the lock after all,” they chuckle. You were so caught up with the lock you forgot how these stupid cages even work. Fear really did cloud your judgement. 

It makes you uneasy how the human is treating this like a joke, but that doesn’t matter. You can practically taste the freedom. Ratty lifts the bars off the cage and you’re free.

You’re free!

You make a break for it. The wind hitting your face like cold water. You Sprint as fast as possible to Hamster, grabbing her by the wrist, running for the first cover in sight. 

Turning the corner you dive under some rubbish. Pulling Hamster against you. Covering her mouth to stop her from screaming. “Shh, don’t make a sound. Stay still,” you whisper, breathing quickly.

The human has their back to you as promised, and you only pray that this isn’t all a plan to use you as bait to find more tinies.

After an agonizing minute, the human leaves, taking both of the cages with them. You warn Hamster again not to make a sound as you take your hand off of her mouth.

She’s shaken but you don’t give her time to recover. You tell her to hold a leaf over her head so you two can run for further cover without being seen by anything that might see you as prey. 

You do the same, grabbing a leaf, and check if the coast is clear before running against the hard concrete along the side of the building. Your thoughts are racing but there’s no time to reflect on them. Right now you can only focus on getting somewhere safer. Your energy is being used to survive this trek. 

It's not long before Hamster starts to slow, and at this point you’re practically dragging her. She’s not used to physical labour, and admittedly you’re quite out of shape yourself from being locked up. You both end up kneeling over panting for breath behind a garbage can. You feel as if you’re about to throw up. “Fuck!” You swear under your breath. “We have to make it inside. It’s too dangerous out here.” 

There are still tears in Hamster’s eyes, which you don’t have time for. You assume this is going to be a constant with her. You wait for her to catch her breath, and continue running until you find a vent that leads to the inside of the building. You pull her in, and find a hole that’s been made to lead into the walls. 

Once you’re inside you collapse against the wall, sliding down against it until you’re on the ground. Your leg is throbbing, and your lungs are on fire, but you’re free. Hamster’s hand is still in yours, and she’s panting beside you. It's a good reminder that you’re both alive. 

Your nerves catch up to you, and you start to laugh. You can’t believe you made it out of that cage. You made it out finally. It’s unbelievably exhilarating.

You give yourself and Hamster a minute to calm down. Catch your breath. Let the shock wear off from everything that just happened before getting up again to continue on inside the building. 

There's pink fluffy insulation along the walls that has been pushed to the side to make an open hallway when you turn the corner. “Don’t touch that stuff,” you tell Hamster without an explanation. 

Hamster leans away from it and keeps holding onto your hand while you take her down the hallway. Eventually you reach a makeshift ladder that goes to the second floor of the building, with little ramps along the way to take breaks on. You never thought you would miss such a shoddily made structure. It's made out of various things: nails, wood, string. “We have to climb up this,” you tell her.

As soon as Hamster looks up to see how high it is she shakes her head and slowly backs away from it. Your jaw clenches in frustration. “I know you’re scared of falling but you have to.” Hamster doesn’t move, and her face crumples while she shakes her head harder. You can’t believe this is where she draws the line. 

Pinching your nose, you take a deep breath. You’ll have to wait this out until she’s ready. It’s probably the best time to take a break anyway- a proper break that is- now that you’ve at least made it inside. You sit down and do an inventory check while talking to her. “We can’t stay here all day, got it? You’ll be fine, just don’t look down and keep one hand on the bars at all times. Get ready to do that soon.”

Hamster curls up and begins crying again. Deep heartbroken sobs that wrack her whole body into uncontrollable tremors. 

If she really won’t do it, you’ll have to leave her for a night or two, and go get help. You would rather not though, it still isn’t entirely safe here. Especially with someone as naive to this world as she is.

When her sobbing doesn’t clear up you squeeze your eyes shut, really not wanting to be in this position. You’re not left with a lot of options, so eventually you sit down beside her and put an arm around her. “It’s okay Hamster. Really.” You hate this. 

Hamster looks at you, glasses fogged up on her tear stained face, then she grabs you into a hug. She pulls you against her and cries into your shoulder. You freeze, then slowly hug her back, tighter than you expected. You’re still shaken up from the whole experience, but you would never admit that you’re glad she’s with you. 

If you can calm her down, then you can convince her to follow you up that height. You wait for as long as you can, then get up. “Are you coming with me? At least try. If you really can’t do it you’ll have to wait here. Alone. If a rat comes by you’ll be screwed, so make your choice,” you tell her and give her one of the needles to defend herself with.

You don’t wait for her to hum and haw on a decision, and instead start to climb the ladder by yourself. Halfway up you look down to see her standing at the bottom, jumping from foot to foot as if trying to convince herself to follow you. 

To your astonishment, she slowly- one step at a time- starts to climb up the ladder after you. Thank god. 

It does take a lot longer than you had hoped. There's a lot of crying and freezing up, but she eventually climbs up with some coaxing. Once she’s at the top, you pull her onto the platform that leads to the second floor of the building. She hugs you tightly, trembling like a leaf, but you can tell she’s relieved to have made it. 

After a few more hours of slow travel you finally make it to a fenced in area that has a door with a latch to keep it closed. The area is large enough for a few people your size to camp out in with a roof over it. 

“We can sleep here tonight. It’s built to keep rats and stuff out of it so we’ll be safe,” you explain and drop your sash, grateful to have the extra weight off your leg. “Let’s see your hammock.” You help Hamster untie it and roll it out, collecting the food from it to put in a pile for dinner.

You feel uneasy being in a cage for the night after finally escaping one, but realistically you know the difference. Maybe it’ll calm Hamster down by being familiar to her. You’re both exhausted and don’t make much conversation while chewing on some dried seeds. Both of you are thankful to be sitting down, and done travelling for the night. 

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @voraciousvore

[cinnam0roll143]

can you make a oneshot where eunhyuk has a crush on the reader but has no balls to tell them, until some guy shows up and he got jealous, so he ends up confessing his feelings 😭🙏🙏

I’m back!!~ Finally! I’m so happy to start writing again and I hope you guys enjoy!! XOXO

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unknown Feelings

Eunhyuk POV:

_______________________________________________________________

Dear insert reader ,

 This may be shocking news for you but, I like you, I like you so much it’s like my heart will explode when I don’t see you for a long time. The way your hair dances with the wind, Your laugh is my favorite sound, The way your eyes glimmer like the moon, The way your skin feels so soft and delicate

________________________________________________________________ 

I crumble the paper and throw it away in the trash can filled with many other failed attempts at writing a letter to reader, “Aish! I don’t know what to do anymore..” as I bang my fist on the table a picture of me and reader falls on my notebook I have been writing on. ”reader, why are you torturing me like this..” Next Day.. reader POV “reader, come on! We’re gonna be late!” Su-ae, my bestfriend shouts as I get ready, ”Hold on! I’m almost ready!” putting on my shoes and quickly styling my hair. ”I’m here! Let’s go!” I exclaim.

 As we arrive at school I see my friend Eunhyuk across from us, ”Enhyuk!” I shout and wave, receiving a wave ”What’s wrong with him?” Su-ae asks, ”What do you mean?”. ”He just suddenly started walking a bit faster..” Su-ae says suspiciously, ”It’s probably nothing, maybe he’s just running late.” I shrug.

In our classroom, I guess you could say it’s a bit noisy.. and messy. ”Hey! reader, I heard that a boy from another section likes you!” one of my classmates say, ”Stop saying such nonsense! I don’t even interact with any of the students!” I shout, ”Haha! Maybe, they’re admiring from afar” They continued teasing me about this guy, when I see Eunhyuk looking at me weirdly. ”Just stop it already! Do you want to die!? Don’t drag reader into your nonsense stuff!” Su-ae shouts. As Su-ae scolds the boys the bell finally rings. ”Finally! If we were stuck in that classroom for another minute I would’ve punched the boys right there!” I laugh, ”Don’t be too harsh to them Su-ae!” I continue laughing

Suddenly someone approaches us, ”Hey reader.. Can I talk to you?”, ”Hm? Who are you?” I ask. ”I’m insert name, a student from the classroom beside you.” ”Ahh, Okay..” I said as he led me to a nearby hallway. But, unbeknownst to them, another person was listening.

”So.. What do you want..?” I asked, ”Well uhm.. I just wanted to say that I like you a lot.” He says. ”Oh..” I said, shocked by the sudden confession. ”I’m sorry but I can’t reciprocate the feeling.. I don’t really know you that much and uhm.. I already like another person. Is it alright if we can still be friends?” ”Of course, that’s fine with me! I totally get it.” He reassured me. But.. Eunhyuk POV As I saw a random boy and reader go somewhere, I secretly followed them. I immediately hid behind a wall when I saw them stop and talk. ”So.. What do you want..?” reader asked, ”Well uhm.. I just wanted to say that I like you a lot.” He said. ”Oh..” was the last thing I heard reader said, when I immediately left and went back to our classroom.

While I was dozing off on my chair, I heard reader and su-ae talking. ”Did he actually confess to you? Straight up?”, ”Yeah.. But-” I stopped listening and put on my earphones while we waited for our teacher.

Should I confess?

You should! I know she likes you back

Stupid, Somebody already confessed to her, she probably likes somebody else.

You should’ve confessed earlier! If you weren’t such a shy boy, maybe you would’ve confessed first! ”Stop!” I woke up from my nap, realizing that it’s already 4:03, meaning it’s time to go home.. Confess…

Confess

Confess! I immediately grabbed my bag and started to look for.. Reader. ”reader!” I shouted,

Looks like there’s no backing out now.

reader POV “reader!” I heard someone shout my name while me and Su-ae were leaving school, ”Oh? Isn’t that Eunhyuk?” Su-ae checked behind us and turned to me, ”You should go talk to him, I’ll get going!” Su-ae suddenly exclaimed. ”O-okay?” I answered. ”Eunhyuk, is there something wrong?” I asked. ”reader, there’s something you need to know..” ”What is it Eunhyuk?” I waited patiently. ”I-”

”I.”

”I like you.”

My eyes suddenly went wide and stepped back due to the sudden confession. ”Wh-what..? Eunhyuk..”. ”I know you already like someone else, and I know that it’s wrong to confess, I just couldn’t get it out of my head.”

”I like you too. Eunhyuk” Eunhyuk POV ”I like you too. Eunhyuk” I immediately felt surprised and happy at the same time. ”Really? You mean that reader?” ”Of course I do, I’ve been waiting for you..” She smiled. ”Is it okay if I.. hug you?” I asked, ”Of course..”

We hugged for a solid minute when somebody suddenly took a picture of us. ”Yah! I’m gonna cry, you two are so cute..”, We see Su-ae holding her phone on one hand and doing a fake gesture of wiping tears on her other hand. ”Well congrats to you two! Now I'm the best friend who’s single..” Su-ae fake sobs and sniffles while walking away..

I smile and look at reader

Told you she likes you, stupid!

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Yay!! Finally, I can totally relate to Su-ae being the single one out of a duo.. *sobs*

[zith-ipeth]

Dog Days Diary: Learning the tricks of the trade

Howdy folks

Recently I’ve been running into a lot of issues with my plurality, but, I’ve been doing pretty awesome on the animality and therianthropy front. This and a couple small things. Let’s talk about it

As some of you know I work at a pet supply store meaning almost every day I’m interacting with dogs as much as people, or interacting with people about dogs, and it’s doing wonders on my euphoria

Sometimes I’ve gotten so caught up in interacting with a pooch on the ground I almost start to play bow before I catch myself, the smell of dog fur and kibble is just, it’s amazing. I’ve gotten back into wearing my ears out more, which has been great for me!

Little things like these make being a dog feel, grounded, in humanity and society rather than out in the woods, I’m a house dog, a stray dog, I’m not a wolf by any means, and my doghood, my connection to that piece of me, has been as strong as ever

However my whole “two of them” situation hasn’t been the best recently

I’ve mentioned this a couple times on my blog but my headaches have gotten a lot worse, it’s honestly a learning experience every time, I learn new things that cuase Clover to want to be closer to consciousness, and have been working on avoiding those, mostly postive, triggers until we’re somewhere safe

Honestly it wouldn’t be so bad if the way I learned all this wasn’t trial and error with head splitting migraines

She’s been up to some antics though, it’s been good, she went shopping, by herself mostly and it went not badly. She’s been enjoying her show (Kipo Age of Wonderbeasts) which I joined in for last night and, I mean, yeah I get her excitement.

On her little shopping spree we finally got clothes that actually fit us! Which is, kinda big, at least I was getting tired of things being to tight, and idk, that’s been really happy for me

Sorry I havnt been doing daily the past few days, its been, hard, but I think its getting better now

It has to get better now

I will make sure it does

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace, love, and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

//Clover Brooks//

[verdantcrimson]

Let's Play and Learn

Writer: Yuumasu

Season: Autumn

TL: verdantcrimson

(Unproofread)

Mitsuru: We’re heeere~! It’s the amusement park, the amusement park!

Tomoya: Hold on, Mitsuru. You aren’t a little kid anymore, don’t get all worked up about it. 

Mitsuru: Why not, why not? Everyone can have fun at an amusement park!

Mitsuru: I’ve been looking forward to this for looong time, so I’m gonna have as much fun as I can! YAHOO!

Tomoya: Wai- Don’t drag me by the arm, listen to me!

Souma: …… Today, Tenma seems more excitable than usual.

Hajime: Heheh. It’s been a while since all us four Ra*bits have gone on an outing like this.

Hajime: I think it’s because everyone from AKATSUKI is with us. Right, Nii-chan?

Nazuna: Yup. Hajime-chin, you can spend your time however you like too, kay? Relaxation is important.

Hajime: Okay!

Hajime: … Ah, Tomoya-kun and Mitsuru-kun are waving me over. It looks like they’re taking pictures with the mascots.

Kuro: Hey, Kanzaki. You go and take a picture too.

Souma: I as well?

Kuro: You’re the eldest amongst the students. That makes you their ‘big brother’. Keep an eye on the little ones and make sure they don’t tire themselves out.

Souma: I am their ‘big brother’, you say?

Souma: Leave it to me! ♪ I shall go forth, as an elder!

Keito: —Considering what you came here to accomplish, shouldn’t you be the one interacting with the kids, Kiryu?

Kuro: Uhhh…… That’s, well, I’ll get around to it eventually…

Nazuna: Ahaha! At that rate, you won’t make any progress at all, y’know~?

Keito: I agree. By the way, Nito was the one who came up with the plan for today, correct?

Nazuna: Ah, yeah. I happened to bump into Kuro-chin at the office last week, and he told me his thoughts on ‘Bogie Time’.

Nazuna: He also asked me: “How do you react entertainingly on shows like that?”

Nazuna: I gave him some advice on a few things, but ‘reacting’ isn’t a skill you can just get by listening to someone tell you how to do it, right?

Nazuna: We decided to train somewhere far removed enough from day to day life to put it into practice— Hence the special training at the amusement park.

Nazuna: Then we figured two guys hanging out on their own would be lonely, so we decided to invite our pals along! ♪ 

Keito: I can understand that much, however… Other four invitees aside, why call me? I’m not exactly the kind of person that would jump for joy at the prospect of going to an amusement park.

Kuro: With everyone else taggin’ along, wouldn’t you feel sad bein’ the only one left out?

Kuro: I didn’t want to make you feel bad, or have ya thinkin’ that I didn’t call ‘cause you’re too busy with work or somethin’.

Kuro: Havin’ ya here would make me happier too, Hasumi. Guys like us don’t tend to come to places like these often, right?

Kuro: I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ an unexpected side of ya. ♪

Keito: So, you’re expecting me to make a fool of myself? You have terrible taste. 

Keito: … But well, like you said earlier. Kanzaki seems to be happy about this.

Keito: I suppose you’ll need a reliable adult around. Don’t you appreciate that, Kiryu?

Kuro: ‘Course. I’m always appreciative of ya, Hasumi danna……♪

Keito: Hmph… Now that I’m here, I’ll make certain you accomplish your goals.

Keito: According to the pamphlet, the attractions that would be best for training your reactions are…… The haunted house, log flume, rollercoaster, as well as the—

Kuro: Ugh. Could we skip the rollercoaster and other swingy stuff? You already know I’m not a rides guy.

Nazuna: Then, how about this one? It’s an attraction where you can have fun talking to the crew.

Nazuna: Since you can’t predict what people are going to say next, it’ll be perfect for upgrading your adlib power. ♪

Souma: …… One and all, how long do you intend to keep conversing for?

Souma: T’would be a shame to waste away our time for naught. I wish for our senpai to enjoy the amusement park alongside us as well.

Kuro: Whoops. Sorry Kanzaki.

Kuro: You’re right. Even if I’m avoidin’ the rides, I’m sure I’ll be able to learn somethin’ from all the other attractions.

Kuro: Alright, shall we go and have some fun together? ♪

[A few hours later]

Nazuna: … Oh, I’ve got a call from Hajime-chin.

Nazuna: Hello? Were you able to buy the churros?

Nazuna: Uhuh. Yup, yup. …… Got it, you can take your time. Seeya.

Nazuna: Turns out the line ended up being surprisingly long, so it’ll take them some time to get back.

Kuro: I see. Honestly, that’s kind of a relief. They were constantly draggin’ me all over the place.

Keito: Yes. The amount of walking around they did was quite surprising.

Nazuna: Both of you look exhausted~. Feels like you’re two dads on vacation! ♪

Nazuna: But I’m impressed, ‘cause Kuro-chin still seriously practiced his reaction expressions.

Kuro: ‘Course I’d take it seriously. Otherwise there’d be no point in comin’ here.

Keito: Even so, doesn’t embarrassment tend to win out for most? You put in so much effort to act horrified at the haunted house, that you managed to horrify the ghosts—

Keito: And when you asked the mascot character for an autograph, It was like you were threatening him. You took it so seriously that it was almost comical. In some ways, this has been a learning experience for me as well.

Kuro: Haha. Comical, huh? Can’t tell if I’m bein’ praised or degraded here.

Kuro: So now, let’s have a look what other attractions there are……

Mitsuru: —Then, how’s this?

Nazuna: Oh, you guys are back. …Hm? What’s that?

Mitsuru: A horned headband! It glows in the dark! I bought one for everyone so we could remember our amusement park trip! ☆

Kuro: You want me to wear that and walk around? Nah, I couldn’t. I mean, obviously…… It just wouldn’t suit me.

Mitsuru: Eeeh? I expected a happier reaction! You might have to wear even sillier outfits when you go on variety shows, don’tcha think?

Mitsuru: If wearing a headband makes you feel embarrassed, you’re not gonna be able to do anything!

Kuro: But…

Mitsuru: Now’s my chance!

Kuro: Yipes. Close call… I almost got a headband put on me.

Mitsuru: You dodged!? If you had stayed put for just a little longer, I would’ve had it! Bummer!

Nazuna: ……Oh. Kuro-chin, Kuro-chin, wouldn’t this also work as training your reaction skills?

Kuro: Huuh? Whaddya mean?

Nazuna: Liiike this! —Hiiyah! ☆

Kuro: Woah! Nito, not you too!

Nazuna: Darn it~! Tomoya-chin, Hajime-chin, come on! Let’s join forces and put this headband on him!

Tomoya & Hajime: Got it! 

Kuro: Hey now, how’s a 4v1 even fair…?

Souma: Indeed, it seems as though Kiryu-dono is also enjoying himself whilst frolicking around in such a manner. I shall cheer for you as well…♪

Kuro: I don’t need you cheerin’, help m—

Kuro: …No. I ain’t gonna make a peep. If I start complainin’ now, I’ll lose my dignity as a man.

Kuro: Bring it, rabbits. I’ll take ya all on…!

Souma: Hehe. As one would expect of Kiryu-dono, he fights a solitary battle. ♪

Souma: ……By the by, Hasumi-dono. In this particular circumstance, what exactly would qualify Kiryu-dono as the victor?

Keito: No clue.

[itsrlymine]

Hi bb,

Presently and for the time being, this blog really is THAT BITCH lmao and you know how I know it’s legit? That ur legit?

Because I NEVER interact beyond a “like”, and if I do it’s only ever been one quick message of kudos. And look at me here now! Lmfao got me over typing out a whole ass paragraph😂 Love love love the me that is you and the aura you’re radiating! And the mirroring has been too hilarious💀 from you and all the success stories from miss girl deciding that her man isn’t some one else’s child’s father, to miss mister nonbinary feeling like they would enjoy having their friend group again, and so many more… but those two specifically had me gagged laughing my ass off when I saw them cus they were such unique reflections the way they were reflected to me that I’m not the only one “manifesting” these things and that I’m not a bad person for wanting this😌

Guys, hear me clearly on this: when it comes to intentionally aligning with that which you want to be, we gotta be honest with ourselves about where we’re actually at if we’re ever gonna get more powerful. I had to face the truth that I didn’t have enough “knowing”/“trust” to do a lot of the things I wanted to when I first “remembered” (aka learned about) the “Law”. So I decided to work smarter and just work the damn “process” (of building up “knowing”) until I got the hang of it.

And I’m soooo excited to share that recently I was just chillin casually enjoying this blogs success stories when it started to hit me like wow look at all these birds before land lol I finally made it! From starting at damn near below zero in terms of skill in execution (back in spring of 2021), all the way to now (almost winter of 2024), it took me about 3 years give or take but babyyyyyy I made it🙌

And the craziest part is it’s only just the beginning🤯 don’t get it twisted, over these past 3 years theres actually been a lot of manifestations that have unfolded through me, but any moment now I can feel it that some of the much more “significant” experiences I would enjoy are going to materialize in the physical and I’m honestly over here like 👁️👄👁️ like fuckkkkkkkk it’s hereeeeee? after all this time am I readyyyyyyyy????????? Lmao I’m tryna act cool and keep it chill but everybody on this blog just keeps getting me so hype it actually inspired me to participate and share a little bit for once

Which is all apart of the unfolding going on over here cus I knew personally I wasn’t gonna start participating period point blank anywhere or with anyone until I really started getting somewhere with this whole “manifesting” thing

So yeah just a little contribution to add to the mix of all the happiness and celebrations that everyone is enjoying here together on this blog

See you all again soon, probably with some success stories or pointers that might ✨inspire✨ someone

-🪽🤍🪽-

Hello 🪽🤍🪽!!!!

I feel like I deffo "started" journey around that time as well. Thank you so much for your wonderful message my love! Thank you for proving how legit my page is. I'm honored to have your stamp of approval!! Miss mister nonbinary is f*cking insane babe. Ummm💀

We are deffo not the only ones looking to experience something new and is is great being able to see the reflections in others. Once you know you are that which you want to experience, literally everything falls in line and there is no work to no done.

Don't try to keep it chill. Be hype asf! That's why we are all here!!!

[jellyfishbeansontoast]

10 things I hate about you

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair

ok this is the first part of the series so i hope you enjoy!! a massive thank you to @demxters for literally everything to do with this <3 Word count: 1023

“I’m gonna do it” Mike declares at the lunch table, sliding into his usual chair in the process.

“Do what?” Lucas asks. 

Mike looks around quickly before leaning into the group, “Ask her out.”

“Who? El? Good luck with that one.” Dustin teased. 

“What do you mean? Do you not think she’ll say yes?” hurt and insecurity flashes across Mike’s face, his previous confident demeanour disappearing. 

“Oh I’m sure she’ll want to say yes but she’s not allowed until Y/n starts dating, Hopper’s rules.” 

Mike almost chokes on his sandwich “but she’s like really scary, has she ever even dated anyone?” he looks around the group in desperation “Maybe she’ll say yes anyway? Hopper doesn’t have to know?”

“You can try your luck if you want” Dustin nods his head to a vending machine at the back of the cafeteria where El’s standing, cursing at the machine. Mike stands up, anxiously wiping his palms on his trousers before walking towards El. He turns to the group before he reaches her and mouths a hurried ‘wish me luck’.

“Need assistance?” 

“It won’t give me my stuff” she grumbles.

“Yeah you kind of have to-” he shakes the machine until the chocolate bar that was previously teetering over the precipice finally falls to the bottom, he retrieves the bar and hands it over to the now much happier girl in front. 

“Thank you Mikey! I owe you, do you want some?” He’s caught off guard by the nickname, coughing and spluttering in a way he can only imagine is wildly unattractive, just what he needs right now. 

“No, thank you though,” he fidgets with his hands “I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me somewhere-” he takes a nervous breath “like a date?”

“I’d love to,” Mike almost cheers aloud but realises it’s too soon for celebration when he notices her chewing on her lip “but Hopper won’t let me till Y/n starts dating, and there’s no way she’ll date anyone, she’s scared off like every guy who’s ever asked.”  

“I get it, don’t worry about it.” he mumbles, feigning indifference. She smiles apologetically and they begin to make their way to the table, the rest of the group pretending not to have watched the whole interaction. 

“So?” Dustin elbows him in the ribs as soon as Mike sits down, although he’s sure he already knows the answer.

“Hopper” Mike replies in a dejected whisper, careful not to let El hear, after all he doesn’t want her feeling bad for something she can’t control.

Dustin’s face contorts almost as if he’s in pain. “Woah you okay over there?” Lucas calls from the other end of the table, earning a few snorts of laughter from around the table.

“Shut up I’m thinking”

“Oh that’s what that is?”

The curly haired boy holds up a finger in retort, cutting him off from any further rude remarks. “What if-” he begins, a sly smile sneaking onto his face as he looks between El and Mike “we got someone to date Y/n, then according to Hopper’s rule you two would be free to date and we wouldn’t have to hear Mike pining about you anymore.” He directs the last comment towards El. 

Mike hangs his head, a furious blush spreading over his cheeks “I don’t pine.”

“Sure you don’t.” 

“But we don’t have anyone who’ll date Y/n” El points out.

“So quick to doubt my plan” he shakes his head with a playful tut, “Steve.”

“Steve?” comes the incredulous response from everyone around the table, even Will who had refrained from taking part in the plan making so far. 

“What? You don’t think I can bribe him? The man needs the cash and also, I saw him checking out ‘Sixteen candles’ for himself the other day.”

“We’re gonna pay someone to date my sister?” 

“Got a better idea?” 

She shakes her head resignedly “Fine, but she can’t find out, I don’t want her getting hurt.” Dustin imitates zipping his lips before the conversation turns to something DnD related. 

-

“Steve” The older boy looks up at the line of teenagers forming in front of him “ We need your help.”

Steve looks around the almost empty Family Video store checking for customers “You want me to rent an age restricted film for you again? I’ll do it one last time but don’t come to me when it freaks you out like the Poltergeist did, I warned you”

“We don’t need a movie.” Dustin cuts in.

“Oh? What do you want then” He rests his elbows on the counter, settling his chin on his hands. 

“We need you to date Y/n.” 

“No chance, anything else I can help you with today?” Steve folds his arms across his chest. 

“You haven’t even heard what’s in it for you” he complains. 

“I heard the last man to try and take Y/n out on a date ended up with his car keyed and his tyres slashed,” He flits his eyes towards his car in the parking lot “that can’t happen to my baby.”

“It was just the tyres” corrects El, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the pet name usage for Steve’s car.

Dustin leans across the counter, coming face to face with Steve, “I saw you check out Sixteen Candles, what would people think of King Steve renting out a chick flick?”

“King Steve is long gone, now I hang out with kids” he sighs dejectedly. 

It’s Mike’s turn to beg “Please Steve, Hopper won’t let me date El until Y/n’s dating someone, you’re our only chance.”

“What’s in it for me?” finally they’re getting somewhere.

“Cash?”

Steve groans, already regretting what he’s about to do. “I’ll do it.” The group cheer in sync “But only because this lovesick thing you two have going on is disgusting” 

“Yeah yeah, thanks for your help.” 

Taglist: @johnricharddeacy

[joanofexys]

here is your reason to talk about emeryk wesninski 👉👈

Emeryk Wesninski my beloved (not really. I also forgot he existed and debated killing him dead again instead of confronting my embarrassing ocs)

If it isn’t obvious he’s intended to be Neil’s brother, which I’m probably gonna skirt around as much as possible due to my own shame lmao

Emeryk Wesninski:

25 years old

he/him

queer idk he’s not gonna sit there long enough to slap a word on it

played striker

was supposed to start on the Ravens lineup with Emiko their freshman year

dropped the sport for academic and familial pursuits (also cause he was not about to major in fucking business)

We’re gonna pretend I know why the hell I decided having an Em (Moriyama) and Em (Wesninski) was a good idea cause I did create them at the same time but honestly? fuck if I know.

Pretending I can do math I think there’s a six year gap between Neil and Emeryk. Or at least it’s around there. So when Mary and Neil went on the run Emeryk was 16 years old and pretty deeply involved in his father’s business. Not that he enjoyed it. He and Mary knew there was a far smaller chance of success survival with three of them instead of two and Neil had the better chance. So he told her to just him and go, with only a little resentment.

Emeryk escapes some of the worst parts of his father’s work through a series of deals with the Moriyama’s, specifically Ichirou. He and Ichirou aren’t far apart in age and now he of course wonders what the hell was doing, but he would rather have indebted himself to Ichirou over Kengo. And he knew one day Ichirou would be in charge, he just didn’t expect it to be quite so soon.

So instead of getting sucked in deeper (to the Wesninski’s business at least), he’s able to somewhat save himself. He enrolls in Edgar Allan University at 18 and doesn’t sign a contract to play with the Ravens. Despite it he and Emiko still become friends and he has some, albeit limited, interaction with Kevin, Riko, and Jean.

He studies criminal justice and goes on to study law. All of it, of course, being put towards working for the Moriyama’s. But at least he’s not actively killing people.

He spends a lot of his time covering up any tracks Mary and Neil leave behind. Whenever he can find them, he knows that means someone else will, and he does his best to remove any sort of paper trail or hint to their existence. Even if it’s just confusing Nathan’s men. Anything that gives them enough time to create a new identity and move.

He’s not exactly happy about it but he does feel like it’s part of what he agreed to years ago. So he lets the resentment build and does it anyway.

And when Neil shows up at Palmetto, seemingly not even trying to be subtle, he is so fucking pissed. Everything’s undone. He can run his mouth and mess things up as much as he wants but he knows it’s only a matter of time.

By the time Baltimore occurs Emeryk is so far removed from the Wesninski’s and so deeply involved with the Moriyama’s that he doesn’t even see it coming. At least not fast enough. When Stuart reaches out to him he reluctantly agrees to work with the FBI, temporarily, to find Nathan.

That’s the first time Neil and Emeryk see each other in years. Emeryk’s pretty sure Neil doesn’t remember half of it, blacked out from pain. And he sure as fuck wasn’t going to stick around to visit him in the hospital. He gets out of there with the intent of talking to the least amount of cops he can.

He forms a bit of a relationship with Neil after that. Mostly “don’t talk to cops”, “seriously get a fucking lawyer”, “have you considered not running your damn mouth?”, and the like. But ultimately he doesn’t give a shit what Neil gets up to. Not his business (though he can’t help but keep a worried eye on him to make sure he’s not getting into too much trouble. He spent too long doing it to stop. And if it has the added benefit of seeing his brother happy and healthy, somewhere he can call home, no one else to needs to know)

While Emeryk didn’t wind up a full blown serial killer he’s still a worse person than like Emiko. He’s very much out to save his own skin. He’ll always go with his best chance of survival. For now that lies with the Moriyama’s. But if a better opportunity ever presented itself he’d take it in a heartbeat.

And idk that’s just a little bit about Em (Wesninski) who I made 4-ish years ago and forgot about until now

[revserrayyu]

2.2 Penacony thoughts [part 5]

**Major story spoilers** as we’re finished the main story here. Going to be chatting even more about Acheron and our time in the Horizon of Existence, the real final boss, as well as all cutscenes that follow, so if you haven’t finished the whole story yet, I encourage you to come back and read this all later if you wish to do so after you experience everything for yourself first.

I gotta start off by saying that I absolutely love how this scene looks. Yeah it’s upsetting to learn that Acheron’s companion here is actually dead, but all the rain falling upon that red glow is just really nice to look at. Of course Acheron is slaying as usual too. I even dig the shadowy look of this man despite his circumstances.

Is Acheron kinda of like a grim reaper of sorts? At least that’s the feeling I’m getting when she says she’s guiding lost souls. And correct me if I’m wrong, but he is the one who wanted flowers on his grave, right? He just doesn’t remember I assume? It also seems that “Acheron” is just a river and I vaguely remember Acheron mentioning one during her conversation with the “Dreammaster” inside the park.

So I guess this is what all that red text meant? It wasn’t something we should have feared but a way to guide us forward, onto the right path? That’s how I’m interpreting it. Anyways, name drop reveals that this man was actually one of the Nameless buried at Dream Flux Reef.

Soon enough we arrived at the Horizon of Existence with Acheron and I’m like 99% sure this set of questions she asks us are close to the same exact ones she spoke of when we met her inside that first dream. I wish I remembered my choices to her questions from back then, because with the game only giving us one option to choose for each question, I wonder if it’s giving us the same option we picked when we first answered her because that would be amazing.

SHE. SAID. THE. THING!!! Acheron real name confirmed!!! Even though it’s pretty much what we all expected from the very beginning, it’s great for it to finally be true and not be a total secret.

A big ol’ cutscene begins and it reminds me of how little we actually received about Boothill, like yeah he shoots that fancy relic bullet up into the sky because he’s the only Galaxy Ranger around who can do so, but he didn’t do much else? I mean I absolutely enjoyed seeing him interact with Dan Heng and everyone else but to not even get the chance to fight a battle with him seems weird after 2.1 gave us the chance to really use both Acheron and Aventurine and test our their gameplay whenever we switched to their perspectives. Same thing happened with Robin too. We walked around as her and Boothill for brief moments but that was pretty much it, making the switch seem kinda pointless to me.

I got no words for this. It’s just an incredibly beautiful screenshot of her. I’ll never get tired of seeing all that red whenever this monochrome world takes over. Makes me regret skipping her every day but next time I’ll pull her for sure.

Yet another line she told us during our first encounter with her. Also, if this is the last time we see her in the story, I’m gonna be sad.

The crew!!!! I’ll admit it does look a little silly that we’re only armed with a hat while everyone else has a reasonable weapon, but I love each one of us so much!! It felt perfect for me to have Himeko in my team during the upcoming fight too.

While I figured we were gonna be blessed with Robin’s appearance and one of her songs during the fight, can I just say that I was not expecting the assist mechanic to be the mother-forking Express?? I had joked somewhere sometime ago that if Pom-Pom were to ever become playable, that their ultimate would be running the enemy over with the train and color me surprised, because that’s pretty much what happens!!

So the final battle itself went pretty well. Took a bit more damage than before but still an easier fight overall than how Aventurine’s went for me. I knew I didn’t have to bring in our dear gambler in since the fight itself granted us shields, but his helped me just fine along with all those follow up attacks.

I think my Trailblazer managed to do pretty well too? I stressed so hard to break that 145 on speed to access that secondary buff of the Talia planar ornaments, so that’s why other stats may be a bit lacking. At least I have break effect at 197%.. is that reasonable?

Anyways, as much as I adore Serval, I had to use the train to deliver the final hit.

Pfft, ain’t no way. Sunday is really over.

Look at us protecting March, aww!

Trailblazer pulls off some last minute talk-no-jutsu to get through to Sunday’s head and with a heartfelt embrace from Robin, I think it’s time to start crying.

C’mon, look at how gorgeous this is!! Such a beautiful sunrise to witness after all the chaos is over.

Surprisingly, the credits roll again only this time it actually feels like a proper ending to the story. It even lists Acheron’s true name, yet March still remains a mystery. When will we ever learn? Who knows.

Final cutscene of the patch begins and what do you mean Argenti saved Aventurine??? When and how and why didn’t we get to witness such a moment with two of Star Rail’s most beautiful men!

Aventurine betting his own life once again.. oh dear, you never learn. Then again, it seems you never lose either so, go ahead sweetie. Go get that promotion you so rightfully deserve!

This scene also bums me out a little because I was really hoping we would actually get to see Jade arrive in game this time around, but it seems we’ll have to wait even longer. Cutting it a bit close to her release with it being in the same patch but at least she’s phase two. I’m pulling for her day one though. I don’t care what happens in the story, it won’t change my mind about her! (to be fair, I’ve seen some leaks about her gameplay and, oh my god..)

Boothill unexpectedly enters the room after knocking out the two IPC guards outside the door and we’re left with yet another cliffhanger. Definitely not as strong as a final scene as the previous two versions but no way a random name drop could match a sudden surprise death either.

And finally, that’s all for now. Penacony remains to be a story full of mysterious twists and there’s plenty more to see.. hopefully. We still have no clear idea what happened to Firefly, then there’s all those bombs Sparkle was handing out to everyone, we still have to officially meet Jade and see what she and Topaz have planned. Sunday and Robin were last seen falling from the sky so they gotta land safely and I haven’t a clue if we’ll even see Acheron again. Here’s hoping 2.3 ties up all loose ends and gives Penacony the finale it deserves!