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loveshotzz · 2 years

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New Years Eve

Steve Harrington X Fem Reader

Summary: Steve throws a New Years Eve party in hopes to win Nancy back, when she shows up with Jonathan and your best friend Eddie show’s up to the same party with his new girlfriend Chrissy you need Steve just as bad as he needs you.

Warnings: word count 3K. Angst, Comfort, Smut, fluff. We got it all here folks. Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: This is my first Steve Fan fic, I was nervous to write this but the idea came into my head and I couldn’t get it out. Comments, feedback, Likes, and reblogs are all appreciated!

Tag list: @emotionaldreamer

Master list

All I do is cry and complain because second’s not the same.

It was the way Eddie looked at her like she put the stars in the sky that really killed you. You kept telling yourself to stop staring at them, but the masochist in you kept yourself pressed against the wall in Steve Harrington’s living room. Red solo cup in hand filled whatever concoction that was thrown together in the large punch bowl, watching your best friend fall in love with someone that wasn’t you from across the party.

“One hour till Midnight!”

Rolling your eyes you throw back the rest of your drink, the warmth of the liquor coating your stomach. When you see Eddie start playing with Chrissy’s perfect pony tail while he’s got her caged between himself and table you decide you’ve finally had enough. Pushing yourself off the wall that had been your home for most of the night you shove through the sea of dancing drunks, the bass of the loud music vibrating under your feet. You don’t even understand why Steve throws these parties, every time you would find him at one he never seemed like he was ever having any fun. This one though, this one you knew he threw in hopes Nancy would come. Ever since Jonathan moved to California his determination to get her back has been at an all time high. But when Nancy shows up tucked under Jonathan’s arm excitedly telling every one the story about how he surprised her, Steve disappears. Unlike you he didn’t like to torture himself. At least not to the degree you were willing to go.

The kitchen is empty when you walk in, letting out a relived sigh not having to engage in small talk with anyone. You make your way to the crystal punch bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, stepping on cups, streamers, and party hats on the way.

“Slobs” you mutter under your breath.

You’ll help Steve clean up tomorrow, misery loves company right? At the rate you were drinking you weren’t making it home tonight. Even after a night of pathetic pining you weren’t going to subject yourself to a car ride home with the two of them.

“It’s still not midnight yet?” The sound of Steve’s voice makes your blue eyes snap up from the red liquid you were pouring in your cup. He looks like someone kicked his dog. You can’t help but want to reach out and hug him because you know exactly how it feels, and something tells you that you probably look the same.

“I’m afraid not.” You hum with an equally sullen tone taking a big gulp from your cup.

Steve’s eyes go soft on you taking in your slightly wobbly frame, filling up your red solo cup for probably the sixth time that night. Steve knows how you feel about Eddie, you two had actually become closer in your similar predicaments. It just felt good to be with someone who understood how much it hurt all the time. On nights where neither one of you could stand being alone, you’d keep him company in his giant empty house, with his parents never anywhere to be found It had become a comfort to both of you. So much of a comfort that your weekly hangs outs had become almost nightly. You’d spend your evenings watching whatever movies Robin sent him home with, talking till the sun would slowly peak through his blinds. Sometimes you two wouldn’t even talk at all, wrapped up in each other’s arms you’d do your best to will the loneliness away.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Steve doesn’t even have to ask you twice.

No one notices when the two of you sneak off to the basement together, hand in hand. You can’t help yourself when you take one last look in the direction of Eddie, breaking your own heart into oblivion when you see his lips pressed firmly against hers, fingers still wrapped in that damn pony.

Squeezing Steve’s hand tighter you follow him down the stairs vowing to yourself to never look back.

Steve flicks on the light revealing the one part of the house he’s kept off limits from the rest of the party. It’s your special place.

The sliding glass door that leads to his back yard gives you the perfect view of the crisp cool winter night. The trees look frozen in the cold. There’s a small bar nestled in the corner opposite of the worn leather couch that you had grown to be your favorite place to sleep. His Dad’s expensive crystal glasses twinkle in the moonlight, A half drank glass of already poured bourbon sits on the wood of the coffee table. The TV was on but muted, some New Year’s Eve count down show playing silently. So this is where Steve had been hiding. There’s a small part of you thats mad he left you up there alone to fend for yourself, but a new feeling rises up in you one that you weren’t expecting when you realize tonight was never about you. Jealousy.

“Wanna glass? It’s better then whatever that punch is that you’ve been pounding all night.” He’s smirking slightly reaching over to grab the solo cup from your hands, his finger tips brush against the top of yours and you think it’s the alcohol that makes his light touch go straight to your core. You couldn’t actually like Steve could you? You were in love with Eddie and he was in love with Nancy. You two didn’t make sense. His hazel eyes stare intently into yours almost as if mirroring your thoughts pouring the expensive liquor into an even more expensive glass. You run your fingers along the top of the couch nervously before taking your usual spot next to his empty one.

“Thanks for finally saving me Harrington, only took you less then an hour till midnight to do it.” you can’t help but give him a hard time, hoping your usual banter will ease the new tension you can feel stifling the air.

“Yeah, look I’m sorry about that I just needed to be alone for a minute. This whole night kinda blew up in my face if you hadn’t noticed.” There’s a light clink of the matching bottle closing before he makes his way over to you, Steve’s fingers are gripping around the rim of the glass when he’s hands it to you, your eyes becoming eye level with the crotch of his jeans. How had you never noticed how well they fit before? The sight makes you swallow thickly shaking your head, a creeping guilt for thinking of someone other then Eddie like that.

When you meet his apologetic eyes you can see they are slightly bloodshot. Steve had been crying and it almost makes you want to burst into tears yourself.

Taking the drink from him you quickly reach out with your free hand grabbing tightly onto his before he can pull it away. Steve doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t try to move, his eyes locked onto yours the two of you stay in a comfortable silence. The bass and muffled chatter from the party upstairs drown out the sound of the quickened beats of your hearts.

“It’s okay Steve.” It’s simple when it leaves your mouth in just above a whisper afraid your voice might crack “We’re gonna be okay.” You decide in this moment comforting Steve is going to be the only way to make you feel better too.

You rub soft circles with your thumb on the top of his hand there’s something unrecognizable dancing behind his eyes when they darken, the intensity of it making you shift deeper into the cushions of the couch tugging at him as you go.

For the first time all night you see Steve smile, this one just reaching his eyes but you’ll take it. Grabbing his own drink off the table Steve only lets go of your hand to get situated in his usual spot next to you. The short sleeves of his dark blue polo accentuate the muscles in his arm as it lifts to wrap around you, tucking you tightly into his side. His fingers tangle themselves into your hair scratching lightly at your scalp, a position you two have found yourselves in before. Something felt different about this time, the lazy strokes of his fingers make your eyes roll in the back of your head the smell of his cologne swirling around you invading your senses makes you dizzy.

“At least we have each other tonight.” He whispers his lips ghosting over your hair line all you can do is nod into his chest, lost in the feeling of his touch. You wished you weren’t holding this damn glass of bourbon you didn’t even want, the strong urge to wrap your arms around him greedy to get him closer.

“We got 15 minutes left of this god awful night.” Your eyes snap open to see the countdown on the TV screen, the seconds slowly clicking down. The thought of Eddie pulling Chrissy in for a kiss instead of the sloppy cheek kisses you’d grown accustomed to every year at midnight made you want to slam the expensive liquor down your throat, and that’s exactly what you did. Pulling roughly away from Steve you down your drink, it’s surprisingly smooth as it slides down your throat. Warmth tingling through your whole body as you slam the glass down on the coffee table burying your face in your hands.

“hey, hey! Holy shit that was a sipper y/n” It takes Steve a minute to process your sudden outburst when his eyes go back to the TV he sees a couple kissing giddily confetti falling around them. Setting his glass down he scoots closer to you, your thighs press together as his hand starts rubbing softly up an down your back with gentle pressure. It was Steve’s turn to comfort you.

“He’s an idiot, I should know he’s my friend too.” Steve tries when you don’t lift your head up he bites his lip desperately wanting you back. “It’s never gonna want to work with him and Chrissy, not in the long run.”

That makes you snap you head up at him, the rage and hurt in your eyes has him drowning.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice Steve, someone’s after thought. Like ‘Oh, I guess y/n’s always been there lets give that a try.’ “

With your faces inches from each other Steve is finally noticing just how beautiful you are. Steve had always thought you were attractive but with you both so wrapped up in other people he never noticed just how much you took his breath away. The way the moonlight from the window is hitting the shine in your hair makes it look like there’s a halo on top of your head.

“What if someone didn’t know you were a choice.”

Your eyes widen at the double meaning in Steve’s words, his hazel eyes hold a nervous glint in them as they dart back and fourth from your lips.

“Steve” his name falls from your lips in a whisper, you don’t pull away too afraid to say anything but not wanting him to stop either. His hand travels from your back to the nape of your neck, his fingers wrap around the curve pulling you towards him. Your eyes are locked on each other, silently trying to communicate how much you both need this right now.

His lips brush against yours for the first time and it makes you suck a breath in, your body already reacting to him. His other hand comes up finger tips dancing across your cheek, before they tangle themselves into your hair pulling you in finally closing the gap.

You weren’t expecting to like kissing Steve so much, but when his tongue runs along your bottom lip all you want is more. When you finally push the unnecessary guilt away and lose yourself in him you can’t help but finally shove both hands in his infamous hair pulling yourself closer, and it’s just as soft as you thought it would be.

Steve grunts lightly when you give his hair a gentle tug, your tongues dancing for dominance in each other’s mouth, his fingers leave their place from your neck to dig into the soft flesh of your hips the thin material of your dress riding up as he pulls you on his lap, the bulge hidden underneath his denim hits your clit at just the right angle when your knees rest on either side of his thighs, the moan that leaves your mouth is almost pornographic. With just the fabric of your underwear as a barrier you know exactly why his pants fit him so well now, and you can feel Steve’s lips turn up into a cocky smirk against yours.

His mouth leaves yours to leave wet sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and sucking at the special spot in the dip that you never told anyone about. Rocking your hips against his you can feel the pressure of your orgasm starting to build at the delicious friction of his denim. Your hands still buried in his hair you pull him even closer needing more. Steve was making you needy.

“Tell me what you want.” he breaks away nipping the spot he as just sucking on, his hands keeping a firm grip on your hips, rocking you at a slow pace against him. When he looks up at you, you’ve only seen his eyes look like that when they were directed at Nancy. But Steve was looking at you like that tonight.

“I want you.” You hold his gaze when you say it, you want him to know that you’re sure. You’re sure of him.

Leaving his place from your neck he captures your lips again, your words giving him all the confidence he needs. They move against you more sure and deliberate then before, slower. When your tongues meet each other again they move lazily against each other, your hips still grinding at his slow pace you know you’re leaving a mark on his jeans.

“Need you Steve.” You can’t wait anymore reaching down between you two popping the button of his jeans, helping you he shimmy’s his pants down just enough for his erection to pop out of its painful confines. He was even bigger then you had pictured, with a slight curve you could see the large vein popping out of the side. All the rumors you heard in school were true.

Biting your lip you reach out wrapping your hands around him his hips jutting up to meet your grip.

“Fuck- you got me so hard baby.” Hearing how worked up you had Steve made your strokes more deliberate loving how good you were making him feel, you could feel yourself becoming addicted to it. “Need to be inside you before midnight.”

Almost forgetting there was an entire New Years Eve Party going on upstairs you turn around to look at the TV to see 3 minutes. 3 minutes until everything changes.

Lifting yourself up on your knees you push your soaked panties to the side, lining him up at your entrance. His tip hits your barrier and it makes him throw his head back against the couch, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips.

“So fucking wet - jesus.”

Working slowly at his length you push yourself down on him, your walls sucking him in tightly and it makes you feel full when you are completely sat on his lap. Your hands shoot out grabbing onto his shoulders needing him to feel grounded.

“You’re so big baby, fuck you feel so good Steve.” Your voice comes out in a whine as you slowly start to rock yourself against him, the curve of his dick hitting your sweet spot with every jut of your hips.

“God, it’s like your swallowing me alive sweetheart. I’m not gonna last long” he makes quick work of the straps of your dress pulling it down to reveal the blue lace of your bra, taking two handfuls his eyes watch as your tits move up and down with each bounce. The moon light hitting you perfectly for the second time tonight, Steve thinks you look absolutely gorgeous riding his dick. You’ve been here this whole time.

“10”

The chant of the party upstairs has both of you becoming desperate to find your release, Steve’s hips starting to meet yours with every thrust. The new intensity has you teetering over the edge, and you can feel your eyes start to close as the tension builds.

“9”

Steve’s movements become more sporadic as his own orgasm threatens to burst, and he wants your lips again. He needs your lips again, grabbing your chin he roughly pulls you to him. You kiss like your trying to devour each other both of you needing more even this close and you can feel your walls start to flutter around him.

“8”

“I’m so close Steve, I’m gonna cum.” Your lips break away from his as you focus your attention on finding your high, rolling your hips trying to take him even deeper. His hands rest on your thighs giving you an encouraging squeeze sitting back slightly watching you take what you want from him. “Look at me when you cum, you’re so beautiful like this.”

“7”

Steve’s words are enough to send you flying over the edge, your eyes never leave his when your orgasm washes over you, nails digging into his shoulders, back arched, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“6”

“Jesus- that was so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me cum baby.” Steve’s grip on your hips gets even tighter as he starts chasing his own release, his hips pushing up into you in a desperate rhythm. He’s close.

“5”

When you finally calm down enough to get a good look at Steve, his hair is everywhere but somehow looks like it’s exactly where it’s suppose to be, bouncing with each thrust of his hips. His eyes look blown out, completely taken over by lust and they swallow you whole. His bottom lip is tugged between his teeth and all you can think about is how much you can’t wait to kiss him again.

“4”

You hands leave their place from Steve’s shoulders to cup his cheeks holding his face as his thrusts become short and quick you kiss the tip of his nose and his cheeks before you hover above his lips “Let go for me baby, you did so good.”

“3”

When Steve cums he thinks he might cry, your words mixed with the way your walls continued to close around him the entire time milking him for everything he was worth, he doesn’t think he’s ever cum this hard in his life. Perched on his lap, your hair mussed up from his fingers, your lips swollen from his lips, Steve wishes he could take a picture.

“2”

Both your hands find their way back into his hair, knowing him you better be careful with that not wanting him to think you’re obsessed but you can’t resist. You can feel him starting to soften inside you, the remains of you two slowly leaking out as you pull yourself closer to him.

“What do you want for the new year Harrington?”

“1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR”

Steve doesn’t answer you, crashing his lips into yours he does his best to try and show you just how special this night was, how special all your nights have been. He’d just been a fool to not see what was in front of him and if Eddie wasn’t going to show you how special you were he was going to his damnedest to try to.

PART TWO RIGHT HERE BB’S

#steve harrington smut #steve x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington fanfic

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dollwrites · 1 year

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 — 𝐨𝐛𝐢 𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!stripper!reader, lapdance, dry humping ( obi gets away with A LOT more than you’re supposed to ), needy!obi, reader has a stage name but no physical descriptions, praise kink, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ kiss me you animal by burn the ballroom

“Darling!”

it was hardly audible over the thumping bass from the speakers, but you’d heard someone call out for you. you glance over your shoulder; you had been leaning against the bar, chatting up a regular, and pretending to sip on the cocktail he bought you, when one of the newer girls squeezed through the line at the bar, making a bee line for you. “‘Scuse me.” you flashed a smile at the patron, standing up straighter to meet her as she approached. you lean close with your ear inches from her lips so you can hear her over the music.

“Your fire soldier captain’s here. By the door. See?” as she speaks, she points a sharp, manicured nail towards the entrance. your eyeline follows and you find that she’s absolutely right. Captain Obi had wandered in. even with the Saturday night rush, he stood at least a head over everyone; still clad in a plain black tee that was dusted with ash, and his uniform bottoms, the arms of his suit tied like a belt around his hips. that wasn’t usual— he typically came to the club in his civvies.

you frown, reading his tense expression like a book that was opened just for you. brows knit tightly together, eyes dark and sporting black rings; hell, you could almost see how bloodshot they were from where you were standing. he was looking towards the stage, but when he sees that you’re not the one performing, he shuffled inside and headed for an empty table near the back.

“I need to…” you started, biting on your lip, you look at her and she gives you an affirming nod. “Thanks.” you reply, grateful, and press your hand to her bare back, letting her slip into your spot at the bar. you look to the patron with a flirty smile and lean close to his ear. “This is Angel. She’s brand new, and she’s dying to get to know you. Be good to my girl, okay?”

but, you didn’t exactly wait for an answer. you couldn’t. you gave his shoulder a polite pat, before you turned and weaved through the crowd of people, smiling when they said hello to you, but not bothering to stop and chat. if Obi wasn’t there, you would’ve been much more social, but he took priority. maybe it didn’t make sense to the other girls; there were plenty of bigger, richer fish in the sea, but Obi was special. maybe they’d never understand, and you didn’t mind.

as long as they didn’t get in the way.

and they didn’t.

you noticed that, even though Obi was about to sit by himself at a table, the other girls kept their distance— they knew he would send them away anyways; he only ever came for you. one of the waitresses handed him a drink for the wait, but she smiled when she saw you coming, and you did the same to her, mouthing a “thank you” before you were an arm’s length away from him. you approached from behind, reaching out, with your pinky hooking around his thick, calloused forefinger. he turns, a wave of pure relief on his features. he knew it was you. whether he could smell your sugary perfume in the mix with the others, or he knew the silkiness of your touch by heart, it didn’t matter.

and you didn’t have to say anything. you smiled, soft, and gave his finger a little tug, stepping backwards once, twice, until he was stumbling towards you, and then you led him around the tables. careening around them, you felt his finger twitch, trying to hold on to your pinky tighter as he followed you to the champagne room. you only had to give security time to see you, and the pathetic giant toddling behind you, and he stepped aside so you could draw Obi inside, and the door was closed behind, muffling the music and blocking the rest of the club out— leaving you two alone.

you let go, and step over to the bar, setting your clutch purse down on to it. it’d been a busy night, and the purse’s belly bulged with hundreds of crinkled bills stuffed inside. “You want to hold on to that?” you ask, eyeing the drink that he hadn’t even sipped on. he shook his head, though he was only staring at you, and you smile again, gently plucking it from his hand and setting it down beside your clutch. “Sit down, baby,” you cooed; you could still feel him lingering by you. “Get comfortable.”

he did as instructed, albeit a bit reluctant, plopping down on the velvety couch. he was twice the size meant to fit on such, so he always looked like he was sitting on dollhouse furniture. sometimes, it was funny to watch, especially when he was red faced and squirming, but now he fidgeted, his dark eyes deep, black oceans, and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“I need…” he’d hunched forward, his elbows resting on his massive knees. “I need you.”

you’re already sauntering over to him, placing both hands on the expanse of his broad shoulders and urging him to lean back. “I’m right here.” you assure him, waiting until he’s reclined to step up onto the couch. you’d balanced on it so many times in your heels that it was second nature, now. you start slow, resting a knee against his massive shoulder, you lean forward, rolling your body against him, one of your hands delving into his dark tendrils. they were damp to the touch, probably from sweat, and you cradle the back of his head, combing him to drop it back against your palm. he looks up the length of your scantily clad figure, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Rough day?” you ask, combing through his hair as you drag yourself against him. you can practically feel the heat from whatever fire he’d just stumbled out of. he nods, but he doesn’t speak. he’s much too entranced, too focused on the way your body moved, fluid and graceful as a swan coasting on a sparkling, midnight lake. his hands ghost over your calf muscle, pulled taut as you balanced. typically, the second a customer reached for you, the dance was over, but you could admit to yourself ( and anyone else for that matter ) that Captain Obi Akitaru had special privileges. he could touch, because he never did so to hurt you. his fingers, though rough and split from countless hours of countless days training, always tried to be as kind and soft as one his size and strength could be.

“You can tell me about it.” you murmured, flipping yourself over so you can slide down his chest on your back. his hand follows up the flare of your hip to hold you close as you wiggled your ass against his groin. “I promise I’m a good listener.”

“No,” he whispers into your neck, perhaps a bit too quick, sitting up to press himself flush to your back, “no I don’t want to. I just want you. I just want to be here with you.”

you were happy to be facing away from him, because the way his voice cracked must’ve embarrassed him, he got quiet after that, simply holding on to your hip as you rubbed into him. even with those thick, uniform pants on, you could feel a firm lump against his thigh, hardening significantly when you targeted and slid over it. you’d be lying to tell yourself that it didn’t turn you on, every time you felt his clothed cock and just how hard it got for you. you’d never once seen it, but you knew every inch by heart, from touch alone. “You are,” you affirmed, “feel me?” you reach back to hook your arm around his neck. “Because I can feel you…”

his breath stuttered as he pushed closer to you, holding on to your hip with one hand, and the other grabbing desperately at the couch cushion underneath him. “I feel you.” it was a moan into your neck where he buried his face. you were hyper aware of his lips pressing against your glitter-coated skin, but you didn’t mind. in fact, he was worshipping the sweetest spots on your neck, and breathing heavy, hot air on to them; it felt so good you wished he’d never stop.

“Good,” you whisper; you’re surprised at just how shaky it is, planting your heels on the floor to lean forward. you had to get away from those addictive kisses, otherwise you might forget that you were only meant to be dancing for him. “Good, baby.” he made a quiet sound of disapproval as you bent over to grab your ankles, shaking your ass back and forth in his face, but both of his hands were holding on to your thighs, thumb pads rubbing firm circles over the skin.

“C’mere, Darling.” he pleaded, leaning back again. he didn’t want to let go, but he had to do so to pat his lap. you felt the heat of a blush on your cheeks and it felt… foreign. you’d been working in the club long enough not to blush like a schoolgirl anymore, but there was something in the baritone of his voice, a need so deep that you could feel it like electricity in the air, and it made you want to swoon. “Please.”

you stand up straight, twirling on your heels to face him, and straddle his gargantuan thighs like he wanted, hips oscillating to the faint baseline of the song booming just outside the door. your fingers are in his hair again, combing it back, but this time, both of his arms hook around your waist and pull you closer to him. “Obi—“ you gasp, surprised. his face nuzzled against your breasts his nose dragging along the sequinned bikini top. you could also feel his hips jutting forward, pressing his hard on against your panties. you stilled for a moment, wide eyed.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, voice husky with lust. you knew he didn’t want to, but if you told him to let go, he would.

you thought about it.

you knew you should say yes.

mixing business with pleasure was a terrible idea.

but you were so wet.

but you shook your head, and eased back down against his bulge, listening to the way he sucked in a harsh breath. “Don’t stop.” you replied, grabbing his hair at the root. fuck it, you thought. “Obi, don’t stop.”

he moans, desperate, pulling you down against his needy rutting, one arm snaking up to hold one of your shoulders, and the other keeping a tight vice on your waist. your back arches, rocking your hips to meet his grinding, and you tilt your head back, eyelids fluttering. the wet patch on your panties left your scent on his groin with each, furious buck of his hips. your lingerie was a flimsy shield from the roughness of his uniform, or the hardness of the cock that he used your body to tend to, so each slide over his lap had you mewling and squirming with pleasure.

“Moan for me again,” Obi begs, stifling his own sounds of ecstasy by killing them in his throat. “You sound… so beautiful… let me hear it again.”

you acquiesce with a happy purr when he litters your chest with eager love bites, and you pull on his hair with a tight fist, biting down on your lip to relieve some of the pressure building between your hips. “O—Obi, please… that feels good… you feel good…”

Obi grunts in approval, muscles in his herculean biceps bulging, veins poking out, as they contract. you’d never been locked in a hold this strong, and you didn’t mind it at all. if anything, you’d never felt safer.

“Just like that, baby,” you moaned again, back arching. his rutting was becoming more and more fervent, his mouth more passionate and insatiable as he nudges your top aside to bring your breast into his mouth and clamp his teeth on your nipple. “Fuck!” it’s a harsh whisper, the knots tying over and over in your belly pulling tight. you almost can’t believe it— you’re going to cum from this. “Obi! Cumming, oh god, I’m cumming!”

he holds you tighter when you come undone, bear hugging your much smaller frame so you can’t run away from euphoria, and instead ride out every, last wave of mind blowing pleasure, calling his name over and over, your eyes closing under the rush.

it was after several moments of shuddering and heavy panting that you finally came back, and realized you’d soaked not only your panties, but his uniform as well, and you sheepishly press a hand to it. “Sorry about that.” you mumble, but he shakes his head, letting go of you to cup one hand over yours.

“That’s not only you, sweetheart.” he replied, “I came minutes before you did.”

his massive chest was still heaving, but you were pleased to see his usual smile was tickling the corners of his lips.

your blush deepened in heat and magnitude. why hadn’t he told you? did he think that he owed it to you to make sure you enjoyed yourself, too? you mirror the smile, your own just as genuine, as you consider how lucky you were to have been working the first night he stumbled into the club the year prior.

you clear your throat, shifting on his lap, and tap his chest with both hands, “Well, luckily for you, I think my legs are pretty much jello right now, so we’re going to sit right here like this until I’m confident I won’t break my neck trying to wobble back out onto the floor.”

#obi akitaru x reader #obi akitaru x you #obi akitaru #obi akitaru smut #obi x you #obi x reader #obi smut #fire force #fire force smut #fire force x you #fire force x reader

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dragons-hoard-of-fandoms · 9 months

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Weird Things I've Witnessed In New SpongeBob Episodes Ever Since Finally Getting My Cable Box Replaced:

There's an episode where SpongeBob befriends a sentient Krabby Patty with a vore fetish

So many one-off characters and gags from the early seasons keep coming back that I literally can't interpret it as anything other than nostalgia pandering. Seriously, Nosferatu is basically a few focus episodes away from becoming a main character at this point.

They keep trying to retcon Kamp Koral and The Patrick Star Show as canon, but I refuse to accept that so I'm forced to believe that they and anything that acknowledges either of them all take place within the same alternate timeline

While we're on the subject of TPSS: Bubble Bass cosplayed as Nostalgia Critic and catgirls and My Little Pony exist in this universe. Why.

Patrick Notstar was in the background once??

They brought back Every Villain Is Lemons and also Dennis was there for some reason???

They already established that the Tooth Fairy was actually the Tooth Ferry (as in the boat), but there's also an actual Tooth Fairy and she looks like a Sandy gijinka

SpongeBob DID NOT LEARN from the Krusty Dogs incident at all

Why am I only just now realizing how weird it is that it rains underwater

Sir Urchin and Snail Fail: Proof that Bikini Bottom public access television has really gone downhill ever since Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy's VAs died. Also I thought urchins were like rats or roaches or something and snails were cats, why are these ones actual people?

There's an episode called "Dopey Dick" which is a Moby Dick parody about hunting down a giant jellyfish. Now go watch it and tell me they didn't know exactly what they were doing.

SpongeBob broke his spatula for like the third time and I swear he referred to it with both male and female pronouns in the same episode, so genderfluid spatula I guess??? Y'know what, good for them.

Squidward canonically goes to therapy and his therapist is the hand from the theme song

There's a Rodney Dangerfield sea monster living in Goo Lagoon

There's apparently been a crazed old man living within the walls of SpongeBob's house this entire time

Stop Trying To Make Rube A Main Character Challenge (Impossible)

#SpongeBob SquarePants #Kamp Koral #The Patrick Star Show #SpongeBob #Patrick Star #Squidward Tentacles #Squidward #Nosferatu #Bubble Bass #Rube Goldfish #Straight From the Dragon's Mouth

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st-armand · 8 months

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Dancefloor Divination

( Reposted from @armands-sanctum ) Summary: Hobie meets you at a club he's going to for the first time, amongst a sea of dazed partiers

Authors Note: Ye asked and ye shall receive. Theres a lot imagery I LOVE to use like planets. Content Warnings: Suggestive and sensual dancing, description of bodies, revealing clothing, fem reader, explicit language, Black!Reader, reader wears a wig (?) (Sorry guys I wear wigs and that’s the only hair I can write rn, also I never see any representation for wig wearers and Hobie, and baby I wear luxurious bundles), bad british slang but I always take criticism and pointers.

Masterlist

Hobie doesn’t often go to dance clubs, he prefers his underground rock shows, or grungy basements filled with listeners thrashing about each other in unison. But that doesn’t mean he shits on clubs, he enjoys all genres, especially by black artists and he’s always down to give anything a listen once or twice.

In this instance, one of Hobie’s bandmates’ partner was desperate to go out, and since they couldn’t find anyone else to accompany them, the band decided to join, plus it would be a change of pace for them all.

Spending an hour ‘pregaming’ (He didn’t know that was a thing usually getting shitfaced at a pub or bar he never thought to get piss drunk before going out,) with his mates and their significant others, smoking up Hobie’s apartment, (He’s always the designated host, always welcoming his peers into his home, no matter the occurrence, and he has piles of clothing from and for his friends so they can comfortably exist in the space.) animated laughs and hushed whispers of gossip echo through its brick walls, garments thrown about as everyone deliberates their outfits.

But the real party begins when they arrive at the nightclub. Encompassed by neon lights and tinted glass, the deeply reverberating bass rocking the concrete below their feet and ringing in their ears. This alone causes Hobie’s blood to rush in his veins, he’s feeling very excited and is only spurred on by the gaggles of people waiting in line and loitering outside the joint, many in awe at the punks, despite it being a normal fashion style in their world, the club goers don’t often get punks at their venues, maybe the occasional goth, especially cyber goths.

Most people are more concerned with entering the venue on time to reach their friends, others are on the prowl for a late night conquest and a sultry dance partner for the rest of the night, flocking to the few single members of the band, like Hobie, similar to moths to a hot and bright flame.

“Hey sexy lemme take you home tonight,” “Looking so damn fine tonight baby…”

But amongst adoring, screaming, fainting fans at his shows, and intriguing invitations for ending the night to end in a cosmic collision of passion, Hobie was in his element, a super-giant compared to the smaller stars around him, they all revolved in unison, and science knows that those with the most gravitational pulls crush all underneath their force.

At the recognition Hobie pulls on his impish smirk, letting his tongue hook into his lip piercing, languidly swiping his tongue over his full lips.

“One at a ‘ime, don’t crowd, yea?”“ You’ll all ‘et a piece of me soon, I promise”

Hobie loves the attention, he is innately cool, but his look and presence was something he had to create with time, his mask was the anchor to the role of spiderman—the seabond vessel, keeping him grounded against the turbulent waters of life, Hobie himself being the captain.

Despite loving the attention and basking in the crowd, he is very particular about the people he allows in his life, watching others with a keen eye.

He may seem overbearing, aloof, and boisterous, he takes on these roles to adapt to the environments he’s in, but Hobie always keeps his best cards last, and close to his chest, the type of person to step in and defend the helpless, but let his adversaries tear each other to shreds.

But as all the conversations, the music, and Hobie’s thoughts settles into the space, a car pulls up onto the curb of the sidewalk, crunching the loose pavement underneath its tires. Hobie glances in the direction of the sleek black car, a group of confident young adults leaving the vehicle. Their strides are self-assured, a practiced strut around the car, and onto the sidewalk.

But amongst them all is you, another super-giant celestial entering the interstellar fray of the nightlife, you radiate an authority that rivals his.

Apathetic expression, lidded eyes, pristinely styled hair tickling your back, exposed in the most tormenting way, by the skin tight midnight black dress, strings of pearls anchoring the dress to your body. Hobie is intrigued, but his curiosity is broken as he’s being ushered into the club.

He also doesn’t mind shamelessly swiveling his head to get a last look, as you and your friends advance into the venue without a breath in the direction of the line. The inside of the club was filled with moving bodies in every foreseeable crevice, a hand on his shoulder guides him to the space his mates have decided to occupy, a standing table.

Your scent has heads whipping in your direction, gracing them with your domineering presence, the crowds of people part like the Red Sea for Moses—like it’s god’s will for them to make space for you all like an assembly of dance club diviners.

You seem disinterested in the acts of the others around you, in their drunken and high hazes, senses melding into each other in a cocktail of euphoria.

Hobie’s dark eyes lose your form amongst the animated crowd, when he does start to get a clearer image of your body and hair in the crowd as you make your way to the dancefloor. Your hips bumping and rolling in rhythmic movements.

You and your friends crowd around each other, playfully grabbing and dancing with each other, hands lingering on each other’s forms, with giggles and laughs that roll your head back.

Hobie is enthralled at the way your neck lolls to the side, your hair rustling from the nape your neck to the bottom of your hips.

Amongst the rest of the rest of the crowd, who is equally as fascinated by the group dancing, they allow more space for the lights on the ceiling to fully illuminate their features.

With the oceanic mob of bodies, limbs and hips moving in tandem to each other to the music, not in complete sync, but enough to feel an overwhelming sense of understanding with your peers amongst the music, breathing ragged, figures moving, grinding, swaying, rocking.

And with them, you look like a prophet, amongst her people, guiding them through a sacramental disco.

He wants to join the ritual too, and be led by your body in the midst of the haze.

He departs from the table with his friends with an, “Oy ‘m leavin’ gunna go check out the dancefloor”

He lets his body guide him, swaying lightly to the tempo (He can’t dance, but he knows how to work his body a bit). He approaches slowly, letting the wave of people direct him to the center to find you. The closer he gets to your back, one of your friends excitedly gestures her hands ‘behind you, BUT don’t look’ and whispers, “Sexy roguish guy approaching you at 6 o’clock”

The whole group buzzes with excitement, and you all increase the authority behind your movements, sultrier, more enticing, a spectacle of your splendor. If one friend found a dance partner, the others will too, keeping a close distance to each friend, and to make sure no creeps slide in between dance partners.

You let Hobie descend onto you, you’ve already been given the heads up, a brush of hair teases your neck and the side of your face, before a glint of metal grazes your ear as Hobie leans to whisper,

“Hope you don’ mind me sliding in here real quick?”

He asks you genuinely making sure you’re interested in dance with him, you cheekily turn your body to face him, letting your hair fall to one side of your shoulder.

You take his countenance in, tall, dark skinned, and gorgeous, eyes holding an immeasurable depth to its warmth, you could easily drown in, and impish smirk on his face, full lips with a ring that scuffed your ear prior.

Hobie stands at full attention, looking down at you in all his mischievous punk brilliance, looking at you expectantly and considerately.

Your words fail you, but that’s fine, your mask is still unbreakable, this is your domain, and you live amongst it with ease, evolved to be fully adapted to your environment.

You flash a smile that allows for a chaste peak at your canines, turning back into your regular position to dance, and letting Hobie’s hands slot your bodies together.

Now you’re no dancer (unless you are) but dancing like this with a man that looks as good as Hobie, you NEED to slow it down, you want him to feel every inch of your body grinding against him with the music, you do just that.

Hobie’s hands glide their way along your hips, holding the fat of your thighs tightly, drawing your closer to his lower half.

Your hips roll in against his front, ticking them every so often to snares or high hats just to throw him off, which results in a deep rumbled laugh bubbling in his chest that reverberates through your body, causing you to smile widely.

Hobie is inebriated off the impression of your body, and the languid circles your small waist whines in, the way your skin and the contrast of the fabric of your outfit feels drives him to senselessness, the second-hand high and lingers of alcohol on his tongue consume his senses, and his reserves.

Hobie takes a gentle hand to scoop a handful of your long tresses, twirling them at its ends to drape the bundles away from your back so he has an unobstructed view of the bare skin, you tense at the feeling, alarmed that he is touching your hair.

"Don' worry luv, 'm being careful, don't want ya hair getting ruined right beautiful?”

“Garms makin’ you look too good”"I'll be gentle wit' ya, be real sweet on you too."

The other hand moves from your hips to your waist, urging you to move faster, grind harder, to take him faster to his breaking point, eyes pried to the shape of your muscles constrict and releasing with every movement, a sheen of sweat covering the exposed skin from the heady, steamy air.

His lithe fingers cloak your flesh, finding exhilaration in gripping your body as he pleases, moving you just how he wants along his body, and you make no contests to letting him lead your figure as he saw fit, melding into each other’s form.

Your friends acknowledge the sensual dance between you and Hobie, cheering you on and sharing knowing giggles between dancing with their own partners.

“Go bestie!”“Ooh~ You’re enjoying yourself huh?”“That’s my bestie dancing on a fine ass guy”

The longer the dance goes, as songs change, the dance between the two of you grows heavier, lingering caresses, soft whines, hushed whispers “Movin’ so sexy f’ me”“Look s’ good whining on me like that,”“Can I dance wit’ ya for the rest of the night?”

With time as the two of you are absorbed in each other, the club occupants dwindle and trickle out of the party.

You and Hobie cease your dancing soon to regroup with your respective friends, but the tension is lingering, even your friends notice this, so they linger back with each other, the parties colliding into fits of laughter, and conversations of their two peers who seem to be magnetized to each other.

Your groups walk to the exit and onto the pavement, legs sore, heels abandoned and nestled into bags and arms, complaints for water and food, Hobie turns you to flashing another smile, his lip ring reflecting the neon nights and the purple hue of dawn approaching in a few hours.

“Wanna spend the rest of the night with us, me even?”

#hobie brown x reader #hobie headcanons #hobie brown #hobie brown x black!reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #SoundCloud #armands sanctum

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somethingclevermahogony · 1 month

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WIP Questionnaire

I was tagged by @elsie-writes and @illarian-rambling so I am responding to both of you here!

Unfortunately I have a ton of deadlines coming up so I might be posting a bit sparsely for a few days. But I would still love it if y'all continued to send asks and tag games so I have some things to respond to when I get back (on top of the things I already have to respond to!) Rules: Answer as many (or as few) questions as you'd like!

The Testaments of the Green Sea

Questions:

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

My MC, Narul, I believe was the first concrete part of my world that I created. He started out as this sort of vague character, too big and strong for the world around him, struggling with understanding himself and his place in a world that is so divorced from what it is to be someone like him. The awkward gentle giant is a trope that I just happen to really enjoy. From there I started making a world for him to live in, for a while he lived in the Kingdom of Chisheytal, which later became the City-States of Kishetal, and for a little while I played with the idea that the world of Kobani was actually set in the post-apocalyptic aftermath of a superhero world, and that Narul was in some way related to these ancient superheroes. However as the character and the world progressed, that aspect eventually went away. As far as the world itself goes, Kishetal was definitely the first place to get fleshed out and made into a proper setting.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Frankly I have no clue. Something acoustic maybe? Something relatively chill. For all the blood and destruction in the story, a lot of it is just about the beauty of the landscape. I think it would have to be something original. But if I had to pick, and this might be a bit of a cheat, all I can think of is the song "The Greatest Adventure" from The Rankin/Bass "Hobbit". I think the themes of Adventure, but also finding purpose in the present and taking chances in your life and the people you love is something that is really central to Narul as a character. When I think of the song, I think of a number of characters like Istek, Penetinos, and The Stranger singing it for Narul and Ninma, sort of as a way to encourage them, to push them forward.

3. Who are your favorite characters you’ve made? Why?

First and foremost of course is Narul. As a bigger, not necessarily conventionally attractive guy who used to (and to some extent still) struggled with socialization and my own sexuality, I feel like I've written a lot of myself into him as a character. Narul is more expressive than me, particularly when it comes to things like grief and frustration, and so I enjoy using him as a way of addressing some of those issues from sort of another medium. Unfortunately I've made the poor fella an anxious wreck.

Istek is the polar opposite to Narul. He is free and happy, and is able to grapple with and fully embrace powerful emotions in a way that I wish I could. His grasp on life and purpose and love, are things that I wish I could emulate. His energy is a lot of fun to write whether as the daring sea captain or as the forgetful old man.

Ninma is fun, just because writing a little bratty child character is a lot of fun. She has next to no filter, and that's just fun to translate into the story.

Zatar and the Deep Sun are up there just because villains are fun to write about. Lots of violence and angst.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fanbase for your story?

I'm not entirely sure! I hope there would be overlap with the fan bases for other epic fantasy series, LOTR, Wheel of Time, Etc etc. In some ways I can see a little bit of overlap with Percy Jackson fans if only because of the shared connection/inspiration from ancient mythology. Aside from that I'm not entirely sure, to be honest I'm not all that active in a lot of fan bases so it's hard to say for sure.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Editing! I make constant typos and I brain dump. Editing is such a slow and boring process and one that is made even worse by the fact that I am currently working on getting a Masters Degree and so much of my time is dedicated to papers and research.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are some, there are a good deal of animals that are unique to my setting. However I wouldn't say that animals are necessarily important to the plot, at least not in the first book. You do see horned-rabbits, Flesh-eating Deer, sea-serpents, birds, livestock, etc etc. There are no pets or anything like that. I don't count spirits with animalistic forms.

7. How do your characters get around?

Walking, boats, and horses. Nothing all that exciting.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I am in the process of editing my second draft for book one and I have started on book two. Right now I'm not doing much of anything, finals season doesn't particularly allow for a lot of heavy writing/editing.

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

I think worldbuilding will certainly be a big part of what draws people in, but I also hope that people will enjoy the found-family aspect and will be really drawn in by all of the side characters that interact with Narul and Ninma.

And if that fails, there is lots of blood, violence, monsters, adventuring, magic, and queer romance.

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Who are your favorite characters you’ve made? Why?

What other pieces of media do you think would share a fanbase for your story?

What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

How do your characters get around?

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Tagging @scribble-dee-vee , @patienceofstone , @americanfemcel , @hallowedfury , and @patternwelded-quill as well as any one else that is interested!

#writeblr #writing #wip #creative writing #fantasy writing #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy #queer fantasy

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notebookpapers · 1 month

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OC Introductions!!!

I’ve decided I’m gonna start using my OCs on here just for writing exercise drabbles, so I’ve decided to make a little into post for them, in case anyone is interested!!

Images made with this picrew by the lovely @crowesn :)

From left to right, we have Ximena, Lumen, & Mattie! Let’s start with Ximena:

Latina

Muscular (freediver/weightlifter)

Great hugger

A softie

Shark mutant

Bilingual

Plays Drums/Guitar

Can sing but gets stage fright

Quick wit

Sarcasm

Dry humor

And I cannot stress this enough gives GREAT hugs like FANTASTIC

Likes dancing

has a tiny facial scar that makes ppl think she’s badass but really she just got it from a nail scratch while playing a real intense game of beach frisbee

Shark teefs :)

Moving on to Lumen:

Latina (mixed)

Bilingual

Jellyfish mutant

Plays keys/guitar/bass

Every hair on her body has stingers (but she’s mostly harmless & actually terrified of hurting anyone)

Producer/lead lyricist/lead vocals

Shy (but loud with friends)

Probably the most depressed out of the three (she's a little self-destructive with coping mechanisms)

Childhood friends w Ximena, they drifted apart in high school & then got closer again in college

Sleep deprived

Doesn't actually have earfins like in the picture but i just wanted a way to make her a little more sea creature-like in this picrew

Covered in little glowy colorful spots

Glows in the dark and people will not shut up abt it

Much like a jellyfish, the cnidocytes in her hair just. Stick. To everything. She can consciously turn them off when awake but she is the #1 blanket stealer while sleeping

Up in the recording studio till 1 am bc that’s when she has her best ideas

TERRIBLE sleep schedule

I like to think that Ximena dyes her hair purple but hers is just Like That

Matt:

Resident White Boy™️

Somehow still tans darker than Lumen

Freckles till high heaven

Reptile mutant

Sticky hands to spiderman around on shit

ALWAYS climbing smthn

Owns several snakes & lizards at any given time

10/10 would sleep in a hammock if allowed to sleep in a hammock

Plays bass/guitar/backup vocals

Nerdy

Tired of the beast boy jokes (that’s a lie he loves them)

Able to shapeshift fully into a giant lzard but likes to keep the tail out just for fun (& to smack ppl with it)

Has piercings bc he wants to be a bad boy (he is not a bad boy)

Skinny lanky little bean sprout ass body type but also still somehow has baby face

They're in a QPR bc I say so & also they're all in a band together. I like to think that in this universe, mutations are taboo. They might look cool, but some people think they're unnatural or scary, and bc of their mixed DNA, it's not easy for them to get good medical care. Some mutants have the ability to somewhat retract their more inhuman features, allowing them to look more normal, but some can do it to a further extent than others, and some can't do it at all. I have more cooking in my head about the lore of this world and the little guys that live in it, but this is just a little intro post for now!

#thank u to the like three people who said they walked to great abt my ocs #it was a few but TWAS ENOUGH #also thank u for the picrew bc I cannot draw #v fun!!! it’s actually a tiefling picrew yall should check it out!!#anyways #here’s my blorbos :)#ocs #my ocs #oc info

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articfoxxxxsstuff · 2 years

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Hello. Please enjoy your meal 🙏.

With love,

Articfoxxxx

Link Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Title: 2AM

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Chapter:3

Warning: Dirty NSFW Thoughts, blowjob, suggestive stuff

Masterpiece blessed by @nana.yin.nana on instagram

According to the weather forecast tonight's weather was suppose to be chilly but oddly enough, you were feeling quite warm. Perhaps this was the adrenaline working its way up your system, you doing something totally out of your normal everyday routine had roused it. You shrugged and continued your walk lost in thoughts of what to do once you arrive at the place. It would be different this time around you repeated to yourself. You would be entering the club alone therefore you needed to be a bit more careful but fuck being careful right?

Golden Eyes club was a good 15 minutes walk away from your apartment and you were almost there. You could feel your heartbeat gradually increasing the closer you got to the place. The faint sound of the bass was getting louder by the minute as you strode purposely towards your destination, choosing to remain oblivious to the stares from random passerbys.

As soon as the bouncer let you in, you stepped into the club half expecting the place to be empty but thankfully it did not disappoint. You were greeted by a glorious sight.

The DJ stage was well lit, both sides were equipped with giant glowing speakers and eye catching lazers that playfully bounced off the audience's captivated faces. The resident DJ was giving it his all, fervently pumping his fist in the air trying to hype up the sea of people whose bodies were swaying to the steady rhythm of his playlist. Whatever he was doing it was working, because the entire place seemed quite full tonight.

Closing your (insert colour) eyes, you deeply inhaled the familiar smell of cigarettes and booze lingering in the air along with another discernable scent. It was faint, but you could almost taste it. As your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room, shadows of people busy making out in different corners of the smokey room gradually took form. Drunk couples who were lost in their own little world littered the room, all giving zero fucks about the blatant stares and wolf-whistles from the crowd. Come on people, it was only barely past midnight.

Your attention was quickly drawn to the glowing shots lined up on a long table at the far back of the club. Perfect! Just what you needed except that you needed to figure out a way on how to get there. Forcing your way across the crowded room with a frown on your face would be one the worse ways to kick off the night. Well, there was only one other way you knew of to tackle this tiny issue. The initial upbeat tempo of the music was slowly descending into a steady pace and that played a huge part in helping you loosen your nerves. Instead of forcing yourself to blend into the crowd, you took your time. Just like in the past you let the music guide you through the floor, letting your hips sway seductively as you move across the room with a playful smile on your face.

“Hey! She looks like fun! Come join us!” A friendly looking pink haired girl with pale green tips was enthusiastically waving you over from her table. You waved back politely at the group who looked to be around your age while pointing at the dance floor mouthing the words ‘see you later’. The girl and her group cheered and resumed their dancing. Little did you know that your unexpected appearance had caused a silver haired art teacher to momentarily lose his footing and spill his beer.

"Tengen! Look at what you've done! You're rarely this clumsy." Kocho tutted while cleaning up the table with a pack of tissues.

"Ohh! So sorry."

Tengen was struck dumb. The girl who just had just strutted by earlier looked all too familiar. It couldn't be (Your name) could it? He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, squinting hard to memorise your features before taking out his phone to text his best friend. He grinned as he took note of how you expertly weaved your body through the club while heading towards the bar counter. Tengen let out a low whistle appreciating how you made it across without stepping on anyone's toes. It was as if you had done this countless times before.

'Location sent. Thank me later bro.' The man clicked the sent button and leisurely savoured his cold beverage. He leaned back and began making himself comfortable on the wooden black stool. Tonight was going to be extra entertaining.

As soon as you put in some good distance between you and the group, you breathe out a sigh of relief. You were damn proud of yourself for not succumbing to your first friendly invitation of the night. After all, you knew better than to sit yourself down in front of the DJ booth of all places, that group of unfortunate people were definitely going to lose their hearing tomorrow. You had bigger things to settle first, which was getting your first drink.

"What can I get you gorgeous?" The bar tender smiled while shaking up a delicious looking cerulean concoction.

"One long island on the rocks handsome. Thanks." You returned his smile with a cheeky wink of your own.

"Coming right up." The brown haired bartender's face reddened in response to your actions and he attempted to play it off cool.

Cute. From the way he handled the conversation, he seemed to be quite new at this. It should take a good couple of years before he gets used to taking in compliments from his patrons. You thoughtfully rested your chin on your hand while observing the not so bad looking bartender who busied himself with mixing your drink. Despite being flustered earlier, he did not let a single drop leak out from the cocktail shaker. Very professional.

On the other side of the room, Kyojuro had finally arrived. His wild blonde hair was looking a bit dishevelled and he was a little out of breath. Starting next Monday, he swore to himself to spend more time working out with the teachers at the PE department. The man ran his thick fingers through his wild mane attempting to smoothen his unruly hair only to be unexpectedly smacked hard on the back.

"Rengoku! You made it!" Tengen grandly exclaimed while casually slinging an arm around his best friend.

"Knock it off Tengen. Give the man some space.'' Kocho chided while ushering for everyone to make some room for the blonde teacher.

"Oh you don't have to worry about that Kocho senpai. Rengoku senpai will not be joining us tonight." Mitsuri, the pink haired girl who had been sitting down giggled while flashing Tengen a knowing look.

"That's right. He's going to be very busy tonight. Busy getting his dick sucked- OW!" Tengen flinched in pain when an arm collided a bit too hard against his.

"That's enough Tengen." Kyojuro pressed his lips in annoyance at his friend's never ending teasing. His patience was thinning and he didn't have time for nonsense.

"Rengoku-san. Since you're already here you might as well meet a few ladies from the other departments. They seem quite keen in getting to know you." The black haired Biology teacher gestured towards the remaining people sitting quietly at the table behind them. All of them clearly smitten with the charismatic golden haired History teacher.

"My apologies Kocho. As Tengen said earlier, I am quite occupied tonight." Kyojuro smiled apologetically while throwing his best friend a questioning look.

"Look I don't know where she is right now but if I had to guess, you can try the bar?" Tengen raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the back of the room with a smirk plastered on his face. He was fully enjoying how this was being played out.

"I see." Kyojuro nodded and quickly excused himself.

"Woah. He's really got it bad for that girl hasn't he?"

"You have no idea." The silver haired man threw his head back and laughed.

There were many things running through Kyojuro's mind as he made his way across the room. His dark eyes radiating a fierce depth of intensity as he tried to locate the one person who he deeply desired to have in his bed every night for the past 10 years. Lustful heady thoughts of you ever so often invaded his dreams causing him to suffer from sleepless nights. Nights that end up with him jacking off by himself, so unsatisfying. He rather blow his load in you .

Fuck.

The image of you sinking down to his knees and looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes of yours as you suck his cock off. Tears glistening at the corners of your eyes not because you were forced to do it but because he was too big.

Fuck. He was getting hard again.

The blonde haired man furrowed his arched brows while purposely breaking eye contact with the every single person who tried to chat him up. He didn't mean to be rude, he wasn't brought up to be like that but he really just needed to focus on finding you. More like he was focused on getting inside you as soon as he could.

Rengoku Kyojuro was normally a well-mannered man but this was getting annoying. His skin prickled uncomfortably for he could feel numerous dark gazes burning into the back of his head, desperately calling out for his attention as he walked by. He didn't know whether to be thankful or not for the situation had caused the enormous bulge in his pants to soften a little which was what he had wanted previously (Refer to Chapter 2). As he waded through the sea of people, he made sure to clearly show his disinterest by remaining indifferent to the incoming advances made by various men and women. He only had eyes for one person after all and that woman was the only reason he was here in this club, at this hour.

"(Your name)."

He almost forgot to breathe when he finally saw you. His throat bobbed up and down as he drank in the alluring sight of you wearing a rather tight-fitted leather skirt that accentuated your curves. The neckline of your off-shoulder top showed off your very enticing and pretty collarbone. That wouldn't do at all, it needed to be covered up with his teeth marks.

Countless accumulated thoughts of all the unholy things he wanted to unleash upon your body immediately flooded his mind as he struggled to calm himself down before approaching you.

Fucking hell.

Kyojuro narrowed his eyes unconsciously biting a little too hard into the bottom part of his lips, totally unaware that he was drawing a spot of blood. It was amazing how fast his feelings could change, he sincerely hoped that this wasn't the case for how he felt about you. Something that had set his loins on fire in a sexually arousing kind of way had now transformed into a different kind of fire, one filled with hate. The sight in front of him was enough to make his blood boil. He had to act fast because you were laughing at something the bar tender said with a twinkle in your eye. He didn't like that.

Kyojuro loosened his blood red tie and confidently strode towards where you sat while calculating his next moves in his head. He was going to show you who you belonged to.

109 notes · View notes

merklins · 8 months

Note

Fine. The Furry Roster, part 1 of however many parts it takes: All the Gordons are cephalopods. Reasoning: Freeman's deep sea thing + Swap's tentacles + Doc is strange and bizarre + Freeman compares Loverboy to a cuttlefish in Act 1 + Literal Actual Octopus "Gordon". Freeman/Storyteller: Architeuthis/Giant Squid Swap/Overlord: Vampire Squid (they're really weird AND the vampire thing) Doc/Hypnos: Firefly Squid (those fuckers GLOW) Player/Power Trip: Blue-Ringed Octopus (chill but also dangerous) Gordon B/Leading Light: Cuttlefish Seven/Last Resort Gordon: Giant Pacific Octopus Worldstop crew: Malcom Challender: Unicorn (something something his ability to manipulate Source seemed magical to the AI? Really it's just because our Malcom fictive has a ponysona but no actual fursona) Darnold: Pitbull (seen as aggressive but tend to be sweethearts; very loyal) Benrey/"Forzen": Blue dragon sea slug / garden snail (Benrey is a slug, but his Forzen disguise is quite literally him retreating into his shell) Y2KVR crew: Benrey (also Loveletters Benrey): Heterometris spinifer/Giant blue scorpion (for obvious reasons + they're blue) Spork (also Valentine): African Gray Parrot (They're smart as FUCK) Coomer/Lovetap: Mantis shrimp Bubby/Dr. Feelgood: Fire salamander Forzen/DJ Heartbeat: Mongolian death worm (this is not a real animal, however, they are supposedly attracted by rhythmic thumping similar to a heavy bass beat) Darnold/Smooth Operator: Cinnabar chanterelle (yes, the mushroom. Consider the emails to be similar to the mycelial network. I know this is getting weird. It will get weirder.) Tommy/I Don't Remember His Lovecore Name: Common crow The Restrictor: Raven (Half-Life G-Man is associated with ravens sometimes)

More will come soon.

"blackmailbutler asked:

Furry Roster Part 2 Of Something:

Admins: Admin C: Tri-color Monitor Lizard G-Man: Komodo Dragon Da Boss: Blue Poison Dart Frog Admin F: Blue jay (Like a blue jay, most of his aggression is a bluff; he's loud and abrasive, but doesn't actually want to fight) Admin P: Praying Mantis (green and can sort of punch things) Admin Darnold (he is mentioned one time in Act 1): Clownfish (orange + Darnold is mentioned to have been taking care of Joshua, which made us think of Finding Nemo because of the whole parental figure thing? Mostly going on vibes because we know nothing of him.)

Mad Science Team: Sleepless: Canada Goose (Acts like an asshole most of the time + Canada + probably loud as fuck) Harold: Protogen (it's MY furry AU and *I* get to choose the species. AND Protogens are COOL) Electrobubby: Electric eel (duh) Politerey: Duck (mostly because we are a Benrey and Forzen siblings truther) Project Coolatta: Lace Monitor Lizard The Old Man: Lace Monitor Lizard (they're monitors to call back to a certain other father-son duo, but unlike GVRV and C, they're the same species to represent them NOT being estranged)

Merch Team/The Last Resort: The Party Pontiff: Mantis shrimp Wheels: Okay so you know how people make anthro planes? That but a Greyhound bus. Yes he still drives an actual bus. I told you last ask that it'd get weirder! Tommy Bahama: Marine iguana (He does the beach tour IIRC. Plus I wanted him to be a lizard like some of the other Tommies.) Dr. Perky: Golden orbweaver (laser grid = spiderwebs, plus golden/orange color scheme) The Bellhop: Tropical leatherleaf slug (Vibes only. Plus he can retract one of his eyestalks to fit the one-eyed thing.)

???: Barney Calhoun: Harbor Seal Alyx Vance: Leopard/Deer (based on our pre-existing furry!Alyx. Eli is a deer, and she wears a little headband with some of his shed antlers on it.) Capital M: Changeling (think MLP. What do you mean that's just the ponysona that I got assigned by the system. I don't know what you're talking about.)"

----

me time answer time (:

OH MY YOU ACTUALLY DID IT. YOU ACTUALLY HAD THEM ALL. AND!! THEY'RE ALL SO AWESOME TOO?? I don't know much about the lizard selections for the Coolattas BUT!! Absolutely AGREED on the Gordons being cephalopods that is SO SO COOL. The bright colored rings of the blue ringed octopus on Player and Power Trip? OHHH THAT'S EPIC.Love the sea slug snail thing you have going for worldstop benrey. YES!! Attention for the worldstop benrey!! Love that guy. cherish that guy. AND Y2KVR FORZEN AS THE WOOORM. THAT! IS! SUCH A COOL WAY OF TYING IN MUSIC TO CREATURES. AND!! Same goes for Y2KVR Darnold! Because OH! MY! GOD! MUSHROOM MYCELIAL NETWORK FOR THE EMAILS YES YES YES THAT!! IS AWESOME. love mushrooms (: kicking my legs and giggling DUDE!! You have so much good stuff here HOW AM I TO SAY STUFF AT IT ALL? Literally ALLLL of these are SUCH! GOOD! CHOICES! I could be here forever. Mad Science Harold as a Protogen, YIPPEE! Forzen and Benrey connections? ALWAYS welcome! WHEELS. AS A BUS FURRY. /VPOS. Dr Perky as an orb weaver I LOVE ORBWEAVERS YES YES YES I SEE THE VISION AND IT IS WONDERFUL. And you certainly covered your bases huh? THE MCDONALDS WORKERS FROM HLVRV. AS FURRYS. IN! MY! INBOX!! /pos

and of course. ponysona ponys mlp hlvrv on the merklins tumblr ONCE AGAIN!! A lovely selection by the way changelings are so epic and cool always <3

THANK YOU FOR SHARING. THE. THIS!! SO EPIC AND COOL LOVE YOUR IDEAS THIS IS WONDERFUL AND TREASURED! This list spinning forever in the thoughts now (:

#m asks #m friends (:#< YOUR EPIC HUGE BIG IDEAS #hlvrv roster #< AS FURRIES NONETHELESS!#ohhhh that response formatting is so to look at BUT!! YOU. ACTUAL FULL CAST LIST IN MY INBOX. THANK YOU??#CHERISHING ALWAYS NOW #m schemes #< you just creature assigned EVERY. SINGLE. hlvrv characters. I LOVE creatures AND hlvrv! I gotta draw some more of these!

7 notes · View notes

mangoisms · 1 year

Text

like the part of the song where it falls ━ miyuki kazuya

━ part four: mostly, i want to be kind / read part three

━ wc: 7k

━ warnings: none

━ masterpost

“How’d your appointment go?”

“Three months. Three months and I’m cleared for rollercoasters!”

“I thought that was a joke.”

“Whaaaat? No! January twenty-fifth —” you clap a hand on Miyuki’s shoulder, grinning; he shakes his head, pulling into the parking lot of Birch Aquarium. “That’s our day.”

“Our? No way.”

“Yes way.”

He groans melodramatically and makes a perfect right swing into a parking spot. “So, what? Disneyland? Universal Studios?”

“What? Screw those guys! I’m talkin’ about Six Flags, baby! It’s Batman time!”

“How are you even cleared for that?”

“Well, I’m not yet. I’ll schedule an appointment for the week before and if my doctor clears it, we’re good to go. Speaking of, we should settle on a date.”

“A date for our date?”

He’s doing that more often. Mostly because the press has gotten a lot of pictures of you two hanging around the city and the more sensationalist tabloids are saying you’re dating. Framing your whole meeting as one big meet-ugly that leads to a love story for the ages. You’ve both denied the rumors but mostly, you try not to think about it.

You flush. “No jokes or I’ll drag you onto Viper.”

“And what’s that one like?”

“Terrifying enough to have you coming off appreciating life and loving your neighbor.”

He snickers.

Realistically speaking, you probably won’t be able to ride that one. Too much G-force. You’d either grey out or just straight up blackout.

Hector would kill you. If the coaster didn’t do the job, anyway.

“You’re all healed, then?” he asks as you approach the entrance.

“Brain bruises are gone and so is the fracture.”

“Good. That’s good.” He hands the tickets to the attendant. You watch him.

You’ve been thinking about what Jerry told you for the past few days. About the incident with that little girl in Georgia. You aren’t sure if you should say something. Anything. It was already a few years ago. Truthfully now, you’re just…

Well, you’re wondering if he is doing this stuff because he feels guilty. You don’t want him to feel guilty. You want him here because he wants to be here. You want —

Nothing.

You shove the thoughts away and follow him. You’d both come early because you wanted to see the penguin feeding at one.

And plus, there aren’t as many people around. Kind of a bonus. A Tuesday at noon. The second week of December. Empty. Or, well, mostly empty.

Inside, the air is cool, smelling faintly fishy. It is dark, with the light coming from the tanks, shining blue on your faces. You’ve come prepared with your camera, taking pictures of whatever catches your eye. You two walk through the Hall of Fishes, showcasing the diverse marine life of the pacific. The Giant Kelp Forest, with kelp swaying in cool blue water, Leopard Sharks, Moray Eels, and Giant Black Sea Bass gliding through them. Then the Sea-dragons and Seahorses display, with the aforementioned marine life as well as pipefish and other unique species.

“Seahorses mate for life, you know.”

“Don’t the males also get pregnant?”

“They’ve got it all figured out,” you sigh wistfully; half of you wants to climb in that tank. “I mean, seriously, that’s some soulmate shit.”

“Isn’t it kind of… not?”

“For me, soulmates are created, not found.”

“What’s the criteria?”

The question shocks you. You look at him.

He’s already looking at you.

Your chest warms and you look back at the tank, where a light green seahorse speckled with black dots swims through the water.

“Why are you asking?” you ask, a little teasing, though your heart is suddenly beating out of your chest.

Quiet for a moment. Then… “I’m curious.”

The thing is, he doesn’t sound like he’s joking or even teasing you. No, he sounds… well. Curious.

“I don’t know,” you say, deciding screw it and looking at him. Your hands grow clammy around your camera. You let it fall, hanging from your neck.

You tug distractedly at your shirt. It’s a comfortable day, so you’re in an outfit similar to the day you and he had Rico’s, with your Docs, your over-the-knee black socks, denim shorts and black cherry lip lacquer. Except it’s not your Wonder Woman shirt, but the Padres jersey you’d been generously gifted by the team. A rusty brown kind of color, with golden trims and San Diego written across the front. Nothing else on the back. You wear it unbuttoned, though, with a black lace trim cami underneath; the jersey is a tad oversized at your request, so the ends fall down a little bit past your hips. Your nails are painted black again.

When Miyuki saw you after picking you up from your apartment, he said if you were going to be friends, you had to have his jersey, too, so he was getting you one immediately. You said that wouldn’t help your dating rumors at all. He said Do you really care what they think, tomcat?

“I don’t know,” you say again. Unsure if it’s to his question about criteria or your own thoughts.

(But you know — your answer to whether you care what others think, you mean. Not the press, not the media, not the fans who think you’re trying to steal his money — and they can die mad about it, too, because nine out of ten times, he’s insisting on paying and since you only make enough to pay rent, feed yourself and your pets, and sustain a Spotify subscription, well, why the hell are you going to say no? You don’t care about them, not really. You just care about him. About this. Whatever this is. Real friendship or just his guilt.

But god, you really hope it isn’t that.)

“I don’t think there’s a specific criteria for what classifies a soulmate. That’s the beauty of it. I think Jerry is my soulmate but I think Batman and Robin are my soulmates, too. My pets, I mean, not the actual characters.”

He smiles. Your heart does that funny thing again.

“But you know how I am. I love love. I love humanity. I love the strangers I see on the streets being kind to one another, the baby who smiles at me on the bus. It’s just… it’s not hard. It’s easy.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt?”

“What’s life without a little heartbreak? Yeah, I’ll get hurt and I’ll lose a little part of my heart but at the end of the day, I’ve got people to help me fill it back up. I don’t think you can go through life and get a fulfilling experience if you try to protect yourself constantly, never be willing to let someone else handle it.”

You pause, a question on the tip of your tongue, unsure if you can go ahead with it.

“Ask,” he says quietly. “We’re friends. Friends ask each other questions.”

You smile at him repeating your words from last week.

“Well… do you have people like that?”

He looks ahead, pensive. Quiet long enough that you know you won’t get an answer. Not now, anyhow. And that’s okay.

He’s spoken of his old friends from high school. Told you plenty of amusing stories from that time. Told you about how they lost Nationals in his first and second year, then won it in his third. Told you about Kuramochi Youichi, who ‘is sharper than he looks and surprisingly reliable, too,’ and Sawamura Eijun, who is ‘obnoxiously loud and passionate and won’t ever leave you alone, but he’s one hell of a guy.’

Miyuki bared a lot to you. But there’s still more to him. You think that’s how it will always be, you peeling the layers back one by one, discovering who he is. Then perhaps one day, you might get the privilege of holding his heart in your hands.

You continue to explore the aquarium for a little while longer.

Outside, they have tide pools, with sea stars, sea anemones, hermit crabs, sea cucumbers, lobsters, and other little creatures swim around. You can even dip your hand inside and feel them.

Miyuki refuses (“My hands are my life!”) but you get him to join you, only by guiding his arm under yours, your hand pressed over the back of his. He squirms at the feeling of the creatures brushing up against his palm and you beam.

Afterward, you check out their penguin exhibit, where they have a feeding show as well. Then you start to feel hungry.

“They have a cafe here, don’t they?” Probably exorbitantly priced but you know the aquarium is owned by UC San Diego and they’re doing lots of conservation efforts so you don’t mind. Even if the tickets were twenty-five bucks a pop.

“Not necessary,” Miyuki says.

You chuckle at his matter-of-fact tone. “Why not?”

“I brought food.” He opens the messenger bag he’s had over his shoulder, showing you two bentos. You’d been curious about it but didn’t ask. Now you know.

“Are you allowed to bring that in?” you ask curiously.

He shrugs. “They didn’t say anything to me about it.”

Well. You can never say no to his cooking.

The two of you find a picnic bench near the cafe. Not many people are outside but you still sit with your backs to everything else, anyway.

He made thick club sandwiches with mayo, ketchup, cooked ham, bacon, cheese, an over medium egg, lettuce, and tomato. It is paired with spam musubi, made of mixed grain rice with furikake, spam, egg, and nori, then wrapped with seaweed. It’s delicious, as usual.

You eat in a companionable silence. You feel a little sleepy, too, since you slept intermittently while running the show last night. It runs on weekdays but not weekends, but since yesterday was Monday, you had no choice but to stay up late, then get back to your apartment at four where you slept until eleven.

Overhead, the sun is out, shining down warmly on you, mitigating the effects of the cool breeze that rustles your hair occasionally.

This is nice.

It’s always nice but…

You find yourself increasingly appreciative of these stolen moments of peace.

You finish your food. Miyuki wordlessly offers you his water bottle, which you gladly accept, washing down your food with still-cold water. You pass it back afterward unthinkingly. You don’t quite realize what you did until you see him looking at something in the corner of your eye and you turn to see, too. Only to wince when you realize he is staring at the rim of the bottle, where a dark imprint of your lips lingers behind.

“Shit, sorry —”

“It’s fine,” he says, shaking his head a little, then swiping a thumb over it. But the attempt to clean it doesn’t work. It smears over the white of the water bottle and on the pad of his thumb instead. He blinks and stares at his thumb, the stain darker than the light brown of his skin.

“It’s… long lasting,” you stammer, embarrassed as you turn to rifle through your tote bag, pulling out a small pack of makeup wipes.

You pull one out, then lean over to clean the rim of the bottle, black cherry staining the wipe. He doesn’t let go, so you just move into his space to do it, embarrassed for the most part.

Once the bottle is clean, you turn to his hand, cleaning the lacquer from his thumb.

“Sorry,” you mutter, lifting your eyes to him.

You freeze as you realize how close you two are. You’re in his space. Your legs pressed against each other, your hand on his. The heat of him bleeds through his jeans, warding off any chills from the cool breeze. And he’s looking at you.

He’s looking at you.

This close, you can see how thick his lashes are, amber brown eyes flecked with gold, burning through you, and you can see the faint tan lines on his face, from his glasses or from his catcher’s mask, who knows, but it’s a decidedly endearing tidbit of information that you tuck away behind your ribcage.

Your heart pounds fast. Heat rises within you, ballooning in your chest. You don’t know what to do — you should pull away but…

You don’t want to.

The realization is enough to make you feel dizzy. Or it could be that you’re so close, you can smell his shampoo, something spicy and warm.

“You asked me earlier,” he begins quietly, surprising you, making you pull back a fraction and your hand jerk (the two of you are in public and granted he has a cap on but still; if the press caught this, they’d have a field day). But he doesn’t let you go, plucking the wipe from your hand with his left hand, while his right, the one that had the stain, closes around yours.

“About whether I have anyone,” he goes on. “The truth is, I’m not sure I do.”

You soften. “Why not?”

“It’s only me over here. Well… there’s Chris but he’s in Toronto with the Blue Jays. He’s… got his own life to handle. My friends from school… they’re all back in Japan and truthfully, I’m not as great a friend as I should be to them. They’re good, they’ve always been, but me…”

He finally looks away from you, sighing. You’re pressed to his side since he has your right hand clasped in his right, your arms and legs pressed together. It’s a bit of an awkward angle but you ignore that, happy to be this close. Happy to have him opening up even if it makes you sad.

“I’m the variable in the equation. And the fact that I’m here and not there… after everything… next to impossible.”

The new information you’d learned from Jerry about his second season with the Braves springs to the forefront of your mind.

“After everything?” you ask hesitantly. You don’t want to assume.

He looks at you. “You know.”

Guilt curls in your chest. “I only found out recently. I didn’t… Before that, I had no idea that had happened.”

He looks away again, fingers tugging the bill of his cap.

“Her name is Mia. She was six when it happened. She just turned ten a few weeks ago.” He digs out his phone. Shows you a picture of a little girl with a gap-toothed smile, dressed in a baseball uniform, with a glove on her hand. “She still wants to play baseball. Be the first girl to join the Majors. After everything, the least I can do is make sure she has every chance to.”

“That’s… really nice of you, you know.”

He doesn’t respond to that, putting his phone. “I assume you know how that season turned out, then.”

The worst slump of his career.

You don’t say that. You don’t say anything. You just look at him, heart aching on his behalf.

He leans back, looking up at the sky. “They tried. They did. But up until then… accidents like that didn’t happen for me.”

You stay quiet. A slow breeze flutters his hair.

“When I was a kid… I was smaller than most of the kids on my team. Much smaller than them. I said things — the truth, it was only ever the truth, to make us better — and they didn’t like that. I saw no use in fighting back. I’d show them on the field. But what that taught me… violence has no place in baseball. Not that kind of violence. Say what you want on the field, in your plays, but… you ruin the game by doing anything else.”

Your heart aches; it feels like each beat it takes is harder than the last. “Miyuki…”

“I know,” he sighs. “I didn’t try to hit her. I didn’t. But indirectly… it was my fault, my actions. More than that… why didn’t they have netting there? Why were there no precautions in place? Why’d it take so long for someone to get to them?”

Tension bubbles in the air. Everything about him sharpens in that moment, anger taking over; a dormant anger, the kind you hold onto, brutal and unforgiving. Not something new.

He looks at you. Sunlight turns his eyes honey brown but they’re hard, burning.

“Do you know what they told me? The park, MLB? They just said, that’s just how things are here. Fans didn’t want netting there. This is America. But that’s too easy. They just don’t want to lose the money in the initial stages. But people would come. They always will. But how could they make that expense? Of course not.” He lets out a slow exhale, some tension unwinding from his shoulders. “I didn’t let it go. They threatened suspension.”

“What?”

“Her mom told me to let it go. The park would put up netting, but it would just be them. No one else would follow suit. Not until one of their fans almost died from a foul ball or a broken bat flying into the stands.”

“That’s…”

“I’m biding my time,” he says, speaking with a kind of ruthless finality that raises the hair on the back of your neck. “A few more years before my age catches up with me and they start putting me on the back-burner. I’ll do it then.”

He is prepared to scorch the earth and salt it behind him, too, for this. You can’t say you disagree with him.

“Anyway,” he sighs, thumb idly rubbing over your hand; you suppress a shiver at the feeling, catcher’s callouses ticklish against your skin. “All of that happened that year, that summer. My friends, they tried, but… nothing could be done. Things got… better when I moved out here. But the damage had been done. I couldn’t try turning up pretending everything was fine. A younger me would’ve but I can’t do things like that anymore. We made some progress but… like I said. They’re there and I’m here. The variable in the equation.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a call from you. Anything, really. I don’t get the sense they’ll abandon you.”

“Maybe.”

“Everyone has their issues, Miyuki,” you say softly. “No one is perfect. But you’re trying, aren’t you? Right now, you’re trying. You don’t have to. You could’ve just told me to go to hell and that… well. That would’ve been fine. But you’re trying.”

He looks back at you. The look in his eyes makes your stomach flip-flop and your heart pound.

“You remind me of them, you know. Both of them.”

“Naive?”

“You and I both know you aren’t naive. No… you’re hopeful.”

Warmth spools like cotton candy in your chest. Your face warms and you smile, leaning your head on your shoulder.

“And a little annoying. Admit it. It’s okay. Everyone should be a little annoying and off-putting every now and then.”

He chuckles, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he looks down at you. “A little annoying sometimes, yes. But it’s fine. Think I need to be annoyed every now and then. Probably payback for all the people I’ve annoyed when I was a kid.”

“You were just a kid. Let yourself off the hook. Though, I do agree that you should be annoyed every now and then. You certainly are annoying now. Well. A bit more than every now and then.”

“Don’t lie to me. I rarely annoy you. You’re just so… impossible to get worked up.”

“I let it go. I know you’re just like that. No reason in getting bothered about it.” You elbow him gently. “But there are limits, alright? You’re a grown man. Act accordingly.”

He laughs hard, for a reason you don’t understand, but you don’t care. You like the way his eyes crinkle.

“You aren’t wrong!” he says when he finishes, grinning down at you. “Starting to think I should. Like maybe talking to my friends more. Maybe… give them a call like you say.”

You smile. “That sounds like a good start.”

“And I think… I think I should be a little more appreciative of the friend I have here with me right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, beyond pleased.

“So… you should start calling me Kazuya.”

“Wait — what —” you jerk and he quickly lets go of your hand to sling an arm around your shoulder and pull you low against his chest. It’s not particularly romantic because he kind of has you hunched over against his stomach.

“Miyuki, what — hey, this isn’t comfortable…”

“I’m sorry, who are you talking to? That bird over there?”

“That’s a squirrel.”

“Question still stands. He doesn’t look like a Miyuki to me. He looks like a… Nori.”

“Miyuki.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

Your face burns. You groan. You should be happy — you are happy. You know how big this kind of thing is. But you’re also embarrassed. Why are you embarrassed?

Being given the privilege of his name doesn’t mean anything other than you two are friends. And he said it himself.

You’re friends. This is just what friends do.

(Yeah, you know this sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.

You are.)

“Kazuya.”

“Now we’re talking about me. Very nice.”

He lets go. You glare a little at him as you come back up. He just smiles. It’s far too bewitching for you to really be annoyed with him.

“Have any more room?”

“For?”

He rifles around the bag next to him, pulling out an orange.

You melt like butter in a pan.

“Sure, yeah.”

Kazuya (gah, that’s weird… but not in a bad way) proceeds to peel it expertly by hand, dropping orange peels into the now-empty bento box. Citrusy orange tickles your nose pleasantly.

He splits off a few wedges for you. You take it, pulling one free. He pulls one free for himself. You sit side by side eating the orange together wedge by wedge.

Yeah. You’re thinking about it.

You know — the poem.

You know the one.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Do I need a reason to smile?”

He eyes you and the look on his face is both amused and fond but mostly fond. “I guess not.”

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:31 — 12/15/2022]

Tee: I just… I love poetry. I think poetry is great. Mouser’s rolling his eyes but that’s just ‘cause he likes nonfiction better, which is fine. I like both. Oh, someone on Twitter is asking what brought this on. Um. Nothing in particular at all. [Laughs]

[DNCE’s “Unsweet” starts playing in the background]

Tee: But if you guys have any favorites, send them my way. I’m always happy to get new material.

[“Unsweet” starts playing] I want you unsweet You satisfy me That brutal honesty Won't you pour your heart out on me?

[Off-air recording starts] Mouser: What are you smiling about? Tee: I just think… the universe is great. Mouser: Right. Sure. Tee: Soooo. Mouser: [Laughing] What? Tee: I’ve come to a realization. Mouser: And that is? Tee: I like Kazuya. Mouser: Jesus Christ. Tee: I mean, look at this queue. It wasn’t intentional but… Angel Baby. Attention. I’ll Be Waiting. It’s so… Mouser: [Laughing] You’re in love with this guy! Tee, Mouser: [Laughter] Tee: Ohhh. That is so… It’s fine. It’s cool. It’s chill. We’re chill. Mouser: Hehe, wait, are you, like, just realizing this? Like actually? Tee: Yeah. Tee, Mouser: [Laughter] Mouser: [Laughing] And you’re spending the holidays with him! Tee, Mouser: [Laughter] Tee: I know! I know… but it was just convenient. When the plans were made, I mean, ‘cause my sister and Hector are going out of the country and I could spend it with the family but… then he’d be alone. Mouser: What do the kids call that? Down bad. You are down bad. Tee: [Laughing] I know! It’s just… you don’t even realize it, the way he gets to you. It sneaks up on you. And then one day — today — you’re just like… Huh. He tries to seem so aloof, like he doesn’t care, but he does. A lot. I think that’s partially why he is the way he is. Mouser: He’s also nice to look at it. Tee: Really nice.

[Lolo Zouaï’s “Blur” plays next] Last night was a blur I stayed till the morning Let you call me your girl That don’t mean I’m falling (But I think I might) You’re every single thing that I deserve Maybe that’s too boring

Tee: Hey, you know I love you, right? Mouser: I know. I love you, too. Tee: Good. I don’t want you to think… I mean, I know you don’t but, like, let me just reassure you… just ‘cause I like Kazuya like that won’t change anything between us. You’re my Mouser. My guy in the chair. The Donna Troy to my Dick Grayson. Mouser: You geek. You’re the Chewie to my Han. Tee: I think I’m more Han than you but since we’re having a nice moment, I’ll let it go. Mouser: Andddd the moment is over.

You have no idea if Kazuya listens to the show.

You don’t really know how to feel about it if he does.

Mostly because, around him, you’re already feeling a whirlwind of emotions. More so because you’ve planted your white flag and given in. Given in to the fact that you do like him. That you like when he smiles, those rarities that make you appreciate them all the more, that you like the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs that stupid laugh of his.

That you like his thoughtfulness, that he goes the full nine yards even when you tell him he doesn’t have to. He stopped buying shellfish for himself, even though you’d adamantly told him he didn’t have to do that, that all you asked if he hung out with you when he had it was wash his hands and if you were eating at his place, avoid cross-contamination. No. He just got rid of it completely. Not like I’m cutting out fish entirely, he told you. I still have my seafood.

You like how he pays attention to you, he remembers things, like when you mentioned, a month ago, that you were trying to complete your collection of the Batman: No Man’s Land omnibuses by getting the second book and you also wanted to get the Batman: Road to No Man’s Land omnibus, too. They’re just ridiculously expensive — Volume 2 of NML is $150 and RTNML is $125. He surprises you with them a few days after your realization, says he was just passing a comic book store and braved the geeks to get it for you and that it looked mildly intriguing, so you have to let him read Volume 1, it’s only fair.

It’s so surprising, so unexpected and emotionally overwhelming for you that you throw your arms around with him without thinking it through.

“And what will the press think?” he teases, but he still wraps his arms around you and there, in his embrace, everything feels right, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

You would know. You’re, like, the leading authority on puzzles.

“Screw the press,” you mumble into his hoodie.

You don’t want to say something like, Well, this is just a platonic hug between friends. It aches too much. Like you can pretend you don’t want to stay here forever. Like you can pretend the urges to touch him freely aren’t growing stronger every day, minute by minute.

But that won’t happen. You know it won’t. You’re a hypocrite for doing this, really, but the truth is, you’re selfish enough to want to keep him as a friend, if anything else. No use in ruining things by inserting feelings into the equation. You don’t want to lose him. You really, truly don’t.

You’ll just wait for it to abate, for it to go away. It will. It’s the third week of December. The new year is creeping closer and closer. On February fifteenth, he is due to report in Peoria, Arizona for spring training; pitchers and catchers report on that day, before the rest of the team. From there, he won’t be back in San Diego until late March. Opening Day is April first. And from there… well. One-hundred-and-sixty-two games in the MLB’s regular season, from April to September.

That’s only two months away. The thought is… sobering. Makes something inside you stiffen up but you tell yourself it’s fine. The distance might help. It will.

You surely won’t compromise your relationship with him to get rid of these feelings, no way, they’ll just… be there. And if you get help in moving on from them with his busy season, well. That’s just how the cards fall.

You let go before you get carried away, leaning down to deposit your gift in the car. A cool breeze flutters through your hair; you shiver a little. The breeze is cool but the day is pleasant enough with the sun is out. Still, you find yourself dressing a little more conservatively today, in a pair of mom jeans and a brand-new eggplant purple Night Owl crewneck.

Yes, you’re wearing your own merch. But this is more of a test-run, to see that it actually is comfortable before you release it.

The ocean sprawls out ahead of you, gravel leading to soft white sand, overgrown grass and weeds sprouting from the fence that separates the parking lot from the beach.

While you carefully put away the bag, behind you, Kazuya types on his phone.

He called them — Kuramochi, Sawamura — a few weeks ago, finally taking that leap. Things are on the mend for them, you think. The thing is, they text a lot.

“Texting your friends?”

He hums absently. You turn away from the passenger side and creep up next to him, deftly stealing his phone.

“Wh — oi!” He sounds vaguely panicked for a reason you aren’t sure of but he has nothing to worry about.

“Relax, dude. I can’t read any of this.”

He snorts, looking relieved, then he switches gears, trying to look sternly at you. “Give me back my phone, brat.”

“Just for that?”

Despite everything being in Japanese, you know the symbol for the camera anywhere. You click it, opening the front camera, snapping a quick selfie of you, your wine-purple lips (you gotta match, man!) spread in a grin, peace sign thrown up, while he tries to grab you in the background.

You send it just as he steals his phone back, laughing and pushing you gently.

“Bothersome.”

“I get it from you.”

He rolls his eyes, still grinning, types a few things, then puts his phone away. You two go back to the car, where he uses you to balance himself as he rolls up his jeans and pulls off his socks and shoes.

As he straightens, his eyes find your crewneck. He blinks, head tilting. He puts his shoes away.

“So, you guys aren’t being shut down, then.”

You plant a hand on his offered arm and bend down to do the same with your shoes. Since you’d agreed to stop by the beach, you’d chosen a pair of sneakers rather than your Docs. Your camera hangs around your neck.

Things are going well. Whether Night Owl is doing well because you’re constantly photographed hanging out with Kazuya (and constantly being accused of dating) or because the people who listened to you out of curiosity or word of mouth decided to stay because they liked the content and the music, you have no idea.

But you don’t care. Both work just fine in your opinion. Either way, KCSD isn’t going to shut you down. No way. Not with the kind of traffic you get.

Questions about merch increased, which pleased the company beyond end, but you had to go in there and negotiate. They didn’t get to take all the money. No. You think, after you and Jerry manning this show for several years, that you two deserve a pay raise. And updated equipment. You could probably ask for a bigger studio but you like it the way it is, honestly. Cozy.

They’d agreed, of course. The reason they’re getting money is because of you and Jerry. You two are in positions to negotiate like that.

So, you and Jerry have been creating all kinds of designs and ideas over the last few weeks. You’d settled on shirts, crewnecks, hoodies, and stickers. It’s eggplant purple, with a cartoonish owl and one of those old-world microphones, the silver ones.

(You couldn’t do a Tom and Jerry thing, since, you know. Copyright issues. Thankfully everyone is aware of that and also don’t want you guys to be slapped with a cease and desist.)

“No,” you say, bare feet sinking into the sand; it’s not warm but it’s not cold, either. Somewhere in the middle. “They aren’t shutting us down. Things are going well.”

“Had me thinking otherwise since you’re wearing your own merch.”

You laugh. “Just testing it out. Making sure it’s fit to be released to the listeners. Can’t give them shoddy work.”

“Does your fan base have a name? Since you’re releasing merch…”

The two of you start walking.

“There’s actually this organization in the comics called the Court of Owls. There’s no real name for the members themselves but they do employ these superhuman beings called Talons.”

“Naturally.”

“But we nixed that one. They’re kind of… evil. Organized crime type situation.”

“Probably for the best.”

“The best we’ve come up with is Owlers.”

He snickers. You laugh.

“Yeah, I know. Not great. Night Owl’s name itself is pretty self-explanatory. There isn’t a lot to pull from it.”

“Well, this —” he tugs at your crewneck “— probably makes up for it. Where’s mine, by the way?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize —”

“You should’ve realized. I don’t accept your apology.”

You laugh loudly, your eyes taking in the tan sand and the blue waves stretching out into oblivion. Foamy tides lap at the shoreline. One part of you wants to dip your toes into it but you know you’ll be disappointed. The water is too cold to enjoy.

A salty breeze kisses your face. You’ve missed the beach. You haven’t been in a while. This one is fairly empty, with only a few people around. At Scripps Pier, a quarter of a mile from Torrey Pine, that’s where you two are. It’s the same area as Black’s Beach, which is clothing optional but you know that if you continue south of the lifeguard tower, almost no one is around. So, no accidental eyefuls of naked people.

He grins at you, looking all kinds of dashing with the breeze ruffling his hair, his dark blue crewneck pretty against his skin, the sun shining down on him.

“So, then,” he starts casually in a way that has you raising an eyebrow, “you won’t be taking that offer.”

You cock your head, confused, before he nods at the camera in your hands.

“Oh. Oh. God, I completely forgot about that. God. That was weird.” You raise the viewfinder to your eye, capturing the swaths of empty beach ahead of you.

“Why?”

“It just is.”

Click. You let your camera fall back to your neck.

“Well, if you take it, you’ll definitely be spending more time around me and since you want to be best friends forever —”

You grin, face warming. “You can just say you want me to take it. That’s fine.”

“Hm.” He tilts his face up thoughtfully. “I do want you to take it. I mean, I think it’d be nice. But I also know you’re happy with Night Owl, which is admittedly cooler.”

“Hey, don’t disrespect your photographers like that.”

He shoves you gently, rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to compliment you and this is what I get.”

You grin, falling back a few steps and raising the viewfinder to your eye again, moving until he’s in your frame.

“See?” he says, lips quirked, hands tucked in his pocket. “Aren’t you having a great time taking pictures of me?”

Click.

“Well, if I want to take pictures of you, all we have to do is this.”

He laughs and it sounds genuine. Click. “Touché, tomcat. Touché.”

Warmth unspools in your chest, ballooning there until you feel like you might float up. His eyes twinkle with something warm as he looks at you. The urge to feel his arms around you swells with vicious intensity, until you’re choking on it.

“Hey. Let me see that.”

You let him tug the camera from your neck, resisting a shiver when his fingers brush the skin there.

“You need merchandise shots, don’t you?” he asks, backing up, eyes on the screen. He knows his way around it. For the most part. You taught him that.

“I think I need merchandise shots of you. You’ve been great for business.” You still toss your tote bag to the side.

He barks out a laugh. “As soon as I get my own patented Night Owl merch. Then I’m yours.”

Your heart leaps in your chest. Like it wants to go to him.

If only.

He raises the viewfinder to his eye.

You smile, holding out your hands. “What am I supposed to do?”

Click.

“Aren’t you the one into photography? Shouldn’t you know?”

You laugh. Click. “Aren’t you the one whose face is plastered all over GQ, Sports Illustrated, and TIME right now?”

“So, you’re the person who bought all my copies at that one Whole Foods?”

“Look, you look good, but there are enough pictures of you primped and preened out there. The fact is, those guys would kill for the ones I have. You know. Candids. The natural state of being. You stuffing your face with black bean noodles from that one restaurant —”

“Those were good noodles! And I looked great!”

“The professional guy in the magazines is great, don’t get me wrong. But I like this version of you, too. You know. Just… you,” you say, smiling as a breeze ruffles through your hair. Click. That one surprises you.

It’s maybe too honest on your part. But that’s fine. You think he needs to know that. You like the oh-so-professional Miyuki Kazuya on the field and you like him off the field, too, behind closed doors, teasing you constantly with rare, unexpected bouts of sensitivity, recipe testing in his kitchen, his competitiveness coming out when you try to complete thousand piece puzzles, and binge-watching episodes of House (because of course he likes that show).

Despite what he likes to think, he is… good. Truly.

Click. He adjusts something.

“You should get your bag,” he says instead of responding to that. You don’t mind but —

“What?”

“I said, you should get your bag. A seagull is digging through it.”

“Wha — HEY! Get out of there!”

The seagull flies off. You snatch up your bag. Kazuya laughs so hard, you think he might bust a lung. You can’t help it, either. It only takes a second for you to start laughing, too.

“Did you get that?!”

Still laughing, he nods, holding out the camera. You hurry to his side, uncontrollable giggles spilling out of you.

Sure enough, in perfect clarity, he documented the entire thing.

A few days later, Night Owl’s merchandise goes up, on a brand new website for the segment. The pictures before tragedy struck you on the beach go up, along with some of Jerry, and then one of Kazuya. Theirs get taken at the same beach. The Padres’ socials post them, too.

And yours, documenting ‘Seagullgate,’ go up on Twitter as a bloopers thing. It becomes your most liked Tweet. (Especially when people find out who was behind the camera.)

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:48 — 12/21/2022]

Tee: Thank you guys for your continued support with the merch stuff. None of you are obligated to buy anything and honestly if you listen, that’s pretty much all we need but still. Thank you.

[Pale Waves’ “My Obsession” plays] You're such a mess but you're always beautiful to me Run your fingers across my mouth I'm not prepared to stay here without you

[Off-air recording starts] Mouser: Hm. Tee: What? Mouser: Today’s queue… Tee: Let me live, Jer. I’m pining. Mouser: Well, don’t just admit it! Tee: Hey, we’re not live, right? Mouser: No. Tee: Thank god. Could you imagine? Mouser: I would laugh. Tee: What? My best friend… my Mouser… my Donna Troy… how could you betray me like that? Mouser: Admit it. It’d be hilarious. Tee: In hindsight maybe. If it didn’t blow up in my face. Like the kind of thing you laugh about when you’re eighty. Mouser: Oh, come on. That guy likes you. Why else would he agree to taking pictures for us? Tee: Um. We’re friends? Duh. Mouser: Sure, but he also looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Tee: Hmm. Mouser: Why do I even try? Tee: Hey, if this is being recorded, where does it go? Mouser: I… actually have no idea. Tee: We should find out. We’ve talked a lot of shit about the supervisors on here. Mouser: [Laughing]

[Seulgi’s “Anywhere But Home” plays next] Baby 그런적없니넌? 아무런계획없이떠나고싶은밤

Please take me anywhere but home Take me anywhere Please take me anywhere Gotta take me anywhere Take me anywhere but home

Slowly

the dogfish tore open the soft basins of water.

You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen

to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.

And anyway it’s the same old story-- a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive.

Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason.

And nobody gets out of it, having to swim through the fires to stay in this world.

#daiya no ace #daiya no ace x reader #ace of diamond #ace of diamond x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #moss writes

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