#but they were really well-written chapters

[haechanhues]

chapter twenty seven : stale

*written*

word count : 1.2k

warnings : i really tried not to bait you lot this chapter. but nothing really to warn you about...

You knew you were cowardly, and even if you didn’t know - you had your sister telling you just how out of control for no reason you were. She even opted to ‘punish’ you by depriving you of the girls - for a girl that loved women’s wrongs she sure was acting like your wrongs were wrong. 

But you still avoided him, despite it all. 

You finally had a chat with Mark, who had waved off your apologies with a ‘it’s all good’ but you still felt a guilty conscience. He asked if you wanted to hang out with him, but you really wanted to avoid any sort of situation, so you refused. Even though you actually really wanted it. 

Jaemin didn’t want to hang out as he was hungover. He pleaded the fifth when you suspected that he replaced your spot for girls’ night. He refused to take a photo or send his location as proof. 

Jisung was spending time with his roster. Not all at once, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they herded around him, hearing some of his stories you wouldn’t be surprised if he swooped them all up at once. 

Haechan - well. Can’t really hang out with him if you’re avoiding him, right? 

So even though you knew Chenle’s ass was stuck in front of his computer screen, the scent of stale food and the despair of minimal sunlight clawing at you, you still asked, “Can I hang out here?’ 

Chenle nodded, though with a raised eyebrow, “Yeah. But we’re not leaving for the whole day.” 

You’re pretty sure you grimaced, but you agreed. So while Chenle was there, you migrated into the living room - used the fuck out of the overhead roof speakers you were enamoured by and ate all his food. Made a checklist of all the foods that he needed. Went to go get them. Anything to occupy the time till you had to go back to his room again. Had to because you wanted one of your friends around, right now. Even if they were busy playing FIFA and GTA 5 and all the shit he was playing yesterday and the day before. 

Migrating back to the travesty that is Chenle’s room and watching him play, you help yourself to his unmade but incredibly soft bed sheets, nestling yourself in between his pillows and taking photos of yourself on Chenle’s phone, right before doom scrolling through your own. 

The knocking on the door is sharp, and you nudge Chenle to which he furrows his eyebrows with so much intensity you’re afraid he’s going to stay like that for the rest of his life, “Can you get that for me, please? It’s takeout. I got us food.” 

He hands you his card, though you don’t think you need it, but you take it anyway, just in case you decide to have a little midnight snack run with his money or maybe you could buy something with his lapto- 

Oh. 

Not takeout. 

It was unpredictable. But it wasn’t. You’re not even that surprised when you open the door to an angry Haechan, the crease in his eyebrows set in stone. There’s none of the Haechan you bicker with or tease. None of the Haechan who’s still reasonable even if he hates your guts. 

In fact, he looks like he really does hate your guts. 

He exhales sharply, lips slightly pouting as he steps forward, loathing the way you take a step back to ‘protect’ yourself from him. Avoid him further. Even though he knows exactly where you are and who you’re with. 

But his eyes. 

The colour that you think of when you think of words that should not belong in a relationship the two of you have. 

But, you think of it. 

“I’m sick of you,” Haechan spits, the words so harsh the back of your head collides with the wall with a slightly painful thump. You swallow as his facial expression remains the same. 

His hands are in his dress pant pockets, his shirt a simple blouse that would make you curious at any other time. His hair is soft and the type you want nothing more but to run your hands through. 

What you don’t notice is the quick drop of his focus from your eyes to your lips, all because you’re too busy with his forceful kiss, only slowing down at the return of your own kiss. 

He inhales, like he’s the one surprised, as if he didn’t predict he’d get this far. Then, his body rolls further into your space. His true vulnerability sneaks out of him without giving him a chance to chase after it, embracing you as if you’re a thought he doesn’t want to pass. 

A moment he doesn’t want to let go of. 

You’re faded. Suffering from the hallucinogenic drug that is Lee Haechan because you want nothing more but to wrap him up within your hold and hold him there. 

He pulls away slowly, watching as your eyes flutter open, half lidded and dazed, and he almost smiles for a minute. You’re driving him crazy and there’s a part of him that doesn’t hate it. 

But he doesn’t know if it’s bigger than the part of him that hates the shit out of it. 

“Avoid me again,” He snaps, “I fucking dare you.” 

He barges past you, footsteps stomping down the corridor all the way to Chenle’s room for all of one second before he returns to the living room, staring you down as you stand idly by at the entrance. 

“Sit down.” 

Obediently, you follow so you’re in front of him, watching as his eyes burn straight into you. For a brief moment, you wish he would save his anger to fuck the shit out of your pussy but you don’t say a word about it. 

His fists clench and unclench, “Why are you avoiding me?” 

Your face drops and you find the edge of Chenle’s floor carpet really interesting. Nice pattern-ish. Kind of. 

“Didn’t come?” He laughs, though no mirth attached at all, “I could’ve fucking returned the favour, Y/N. You know I could.” 

“I don’t care about not coming!” You don’t know why it offends you, but it really doesn’t fucking matter as much as he thinks. What Joy thinks. It used to, infuriatingly so. Maybe it was just because you trusted his capabilities. 

He raises his eyebrow, “I’m serious. I’ll do it right on this couch if I have to. Your control.” 

You shake your head, even though you really want to take him up on that offer. 

“No it’s just- you said some sappy shit to me…” 

His face turns serious, “And you got uncomfortable.”

“No, I wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird, considering…” Your hand refers back to the two of you, “But I was like…on top of the world about it and then I just came to realise things.” 

He smiles at you, though borderline fake, “That was probably due to the sex. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m quite good at it.” 

And because the look is back in his eyes and because it's like second nature to you, you make fun of him, “Clearly not, since I didn’t come.” 

The look he gives you, marred with bickering, evil thoughts and emotions running wild, it’s all just….the two of you.

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter twenty seven: stale

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[wonubby]

fell in luv - itoshi rin

CHAPTER 02: HOMEWORK SUCKS!

SYPNOSIS Rin Itoshi thought life was all about football—until Y/N L/N and their chaotic group of friends proved otherwise. Now, he’s stuck navigating late-night hangouts, dumb arguments, and way too much teasing—all while somehow being hopelessly in love. It’s a story of laughter, love, and Rin just trying (and failing) to keep his cool.

a/n: HI GUYS please ignore the "prankshit" watermark.. im on laptop so making these are pretty hard

written part after all the pics!

< prev masterlist next >

as the door to rin itoshi's room burst open, four teens stood frozen, mouths agape in shock.

there, in the dim light, was rin—shirtless—locked in a kiss with a fully clothed y/n. at the sudden intrusion, the love-struck pair jolted apart, scrambling in a flustered mess to compose themselves.

eita let out an exasperated sigh, crossing his arms. "and what did i fucking say, riya?" he muttered, clearly salty that no one had listened to him.

riya side-eyed the boy beside her. "okay, eita, congrats. you were right this one time and, for once, not thinking with your dick—no one cares." she turned to y/n. "you promised to help me with my homework, which is why we're here. get up."

without hesitation, riya shoved rin off y/n, earning herself a sharp glare from the irritated striker.

"i thought i told you we were busy," rin grumbled, clearly annoyed that their date had been so rudely interrupted.

y/n, ever the peacemaker, gave him a reassuring smile. "it's fine, rin. i really did promise to help her. once we're done, they'll leave, and we can pick up where we left off."

naomi scratched her neck, glancing awkwardly to the side. "about that... your mom insisted we stay over since it's pretty late. we tried to say no, but she wouldn't let up."

a pillow smacked her straight in the face.

"rin, what the fuck!" naomi screamed, ready to lunge at him if she wasn’t being held back.

"deserved," rin muttered.

eita, watching the chaos unfold, grinned from ear to ear. "this is more entertaining than a movie."

"yeah, and we're the ones stuck in the middle of it," riya shot back, clearly unimpressed by the situation. "thanks, rin."

naomi, now fuming, rubbed her cheek where the pillow had hit. "you guys are unbelievable."

"you were the one who knocked on my door," rin retorted, leaning back on the couch.

"right, and you couldn't just act normal for once?" naomi grumbled.

yukimiya kenyu, who had been quietly observing the drama from the corner, finally spoke up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "this is why i don't do sleepovers. too much drama."

y/n rolled her eyes from where she was sitting, barely looking up. "yeah, because we all love being dragged into this shitshow," she muttered, taking a swig from her drink. "honestly, i just want to go to sleep."

riya shot her a glare but didn't respond.

"well, we're here now, might as well make it fun, right?" kenyu suggested with a grin, flopping down beside y/n.

y/n shot him a deadpan look. "fun? really? because this feels more like a disaster waiting to happen."

"you're such a buzzkill," eita laughed.

"i'm just being honest," y/n shrugged, clearly uninterested in the idea of any fun.

"so... not even a little fun?" naomi pushed, trying to lighten the mood.

y/n raised an eyebrow. "fun for you guys, maybe."

"oh, come on, y/n," eita whined, nudging her with his elbow. "you gotta admit, this is pretty hilarious."

"i'll admit that you are pretty annoying," y/n shot back, not missing a beat. "but hey, that's nothing new."

riya, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolled her eyes. "please don’t start with your crap, y/n. we already have enough chaos without you adding to it."

"chaos?" y/n snorted, raising her glass. "this is a disaster. i don’t know what you’re all on about."

"it's fun in its own way," yukimiya said, finally showing a hint of amusement. "no one's getting hurt. just... loudly inconvenienced."

rin, who had been watching the back-and-forth with mild annoyance, groaned. "i'm literally right here, and you're all treating this like some kind of sitcom."

"you're just mad 'cause we ruined your romantic evening," eita teased, flashing him a smirk. "shoulda locked the door, man."

"next time, maybe i will," rin muttered, sinking back into the couch.

y/n, still leaning back and sipping her drink, shot a look at riya. "so, homework? wanna get it over with so i can leave and pretend this nightmare never happened?"

riya nodded quickly, relief spreading across her face. "finally! thank you!"

the group had somehow made it through the night without any more major drama—though the tension still lingered in the air. the homework was finished (with plenty of y/n’s sarcastic commentary along the way), and now everyone was scattered around the room, occupying the floor or leaning against the walls.

y/n, sprawled out on rin's bed, shot a glance at him, who had finally relaxed. "well, that wasn’t so bad. you can go back to sulking now."

rin raised an eyebrow but said nothing, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

otoya, leaning against the wall, grinned. "i think we've survived the worst of it. unless rin decides to start throwing stuff again."

"i could. don’t tempt me," rin muttered, his eyes half-closed as he joined y/n on the bed.

naomi, sitting on the floor near the door, raised her head from her phone with a sigh. "so, is this how it’s gonna be now? just... awkward silence until someone explodes?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "because i’m already over this whole 'sleepover' vibe."

"you think we’re gonna explode? i think we’re already there," eita said, his voice dry as he kicked his feet up onto a nearby chair. "too many personalities in one room."

"you can always leave, naomi," yukimiya added lazily, glancing up from his phone, a bored look on his face. "not like you’re forced to stay."

naomi shot him a side-eye. "i tried to leave earlier, but someone’s mom insisted we stay over." she shot a look at rin, who only shrugged in response.

y/n let out a loud groan, slumping further into the bed. "this night is like a car crash that just keeps going. i can’t wait for it to end."

"tell me about it," naomi muttered, leaning back against the doorframe. "who knew spending time with you guys would be worse than studying for finals?"

rin sighed. "so this is how it’s gonna be, huh? a bunch of loud idiots trying to make something out of nothing." he shot a glance at y/n. "i mean, i’d prefer some peace too, but this isn’t really the vibe i was expecting."

"well, we’re here now, so suck it up," y/n shot back, not bothering to sit up.

naomi looked at rin, then at y/n, and shook her head. "you two are impossible. you know that, right?"

"impossible?" rin smirked. "you guys were the ones who walked in here uninvited. i wasn’t expecting anything but chaos."

"no kidding," eita chimed in, kicking back in the corner. "next time, let’s not follow y/n’s ‘invite,’ huh?"

yukimiya, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up, his voice bored but tinged with amusement. "honestly, i’m just waiting for someone to do something interesting. this is too much talking, not enough action."

otoya snickered. "you’re just waiting for a pillow fight, aren’t you?"

y/n snorted from the bed. "if anyone starts a pillow fight, i’m out. i’m not that desperate for entertainment."

"and there’s the real y/n," riya muttered with a roll of her eyes. "always a pain in the ass."

"thank you, i try," y/n replied sarcastically, finally propping herself up on one elbow.

rin gave her a smirk, clearly used to her attitude. "you really know how to kill the mood, huh?"

"someone’s got to do it," she muttered, smirking back at him. "besides, this whole ‘sleepover’ thing was never my idea of fun."

rin leaned closer, his voice softer, more affectionate. "but you’re stuck with me now."

y/n met his gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "guess i’ll survive," she replied, her tone a mix of sarcasm and something a little sweeter.

rin’s smirk softened into a real smile as he nudged her gently. "you say that now, but i think you’re secretly enjoying it."

y/n rolled her eyes but leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as the room fell back into a quiet, comfortable lull. despite the chaos, this was somehow the most peaceful moment of the night.

taglist: @levihanmyotp @x3nafix @@yourlocaleffy

[fawn-tongues]

Drawing of a scene from chapter 7 of @entryn17 ‘s fic uncanny all along

[2030kamenriders]

Perhaps it's because of trying to recover from near-burn-out this summer, but I can't help but see this as a metaphor for developing long-term illness from overwork.

As you read the first few pages, you learn that Gregor has been single-handedly paying the family bills for the past 5 years. Also he's about halfway though paying off his parents' debt to this business. And to make it worse, his boss is that type of guy who thinks burnt-out or chronically-ill people are just being lazy. But here's the thing (and it's a painfully relatable thing too): Gregor doesn't even want to call in sick. Despite being extremely sick from the transformation, he wants to work. He is ignoring and minimizing his symptoms, trying to tell himself everything is alright.

I get the impression that he just really doesn't want to let his family down. Not just in terms of his parents' debt, but also his sister. See, his sister is a teenager who likes playing violin, and Gregor was going to surprise her on the holidays by paying for her tuition for professional music school.

And even though the story is in 3rd person, you could still understand just how painful the whole situation is on the guy: not just physically, but emotionally.

Early on, the bug symptoms worsen so that he can't talk properly. He still understands what everyone else says, but they just hear a bunch of bug noises, with maybe some words muffled underneath those sounds. But instead of trying to have even a basic, rudimentary, stilted attempt at trying to communicate with him sometimes, they don't even try. They act like he doesn't understand them either.

I repeat: they assume he doesn't understand them, just because he can't talk anymore. That hurt. That hurt to read. And in a sort of warped way, it just hit some painful memories I have.

(But that's a tangent for a different time. Because right now I have a lot of other thoughts to unpack.)

Despite the situation, Gregor is still focused on making sure his family isn't more stressed by him than they are. Because he quickly figures out that his family is terrified of him.Even when they're trying to be "helpful", it's bare-minimum stuff and it's done in a way that makes it very clear to Gregor that they're terrified of him. So he does everything he can to stay out of their way, even out of their sight.

(And don't even get me started on the other characters. Not a single one of them treated him with any humanity.)

Gregor does get beat up a few times too. But to my surprise, that's not really the direct cause of his death. Instead, after months of this treatment and a particularly stressful day, his family start questioning if he's really still the Gregor they knew, and talk about how much they need to get rid of him.

And all while he's right there in front of them.

Listening to every word.

And the heartbreaking thing is that, at this point, he agrees. Whatever shred of hope or will to live he had in him, it was just gone.

And even as he dozes off to sleep that night, he still doesn't even hate them! And you can tell, because despite being written in 3rd-person, the story was written so that you could really feel how Gregor felt. And when does it end? When does the story end?!

When he dies? No, it ends after that!

When he gets buried? Nope. Heck, we don't even know what happens to his body after the house finds out he's dead. We just know that the cleaning lady "took care of it" (and she says this in the most suspicious and malicious-sounding way possible)!

The story ends with Gregor's parents and sister going on a little trip to the sunny countryside that day, while realizing that they are actually doing pretty okay financially now. And now they're planning to fire their old housekeeping staff, move, and have a fresh start. yay?

No, not "yay"! That was your family member! He just died! And not a single one of you even bothered to consider giving him any sort of funeral. You guys had the audacity— the damned audacity!— to look at his corpse and literally say "thank god he's dead".

This entire darn time he was a bug (even after his death, in that sort-of 4th-wall-breaking way I tried to mention above), Gregor's top priority wasn't himself. It was his family. And when he needed them most, they couldn't treat him the same.

(Before reading The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka): well this is gonna be an interesting story to read.

(After reading The Metamorphosis): Gregor... bro... (Fists start shaking Kotaro-Minami-style as I think about the way all the other characters treated him)

[13eyond13]

I love the way that, in addition to his origin story with his over-sized sword and the scar on his nose, the flashbacks to Guts's childhood show how much of his insane work ethic and reckless self-endangering abandonment in battle were all kinda ingrained into him by his craving for attention and approval from shitty father figure, Gambino.

Random nice mercenary guy: "Don't overexert yourself, kid. Just do what's needed. 'Cause if you die, you lose everything."

Gambino: "It's your first battle. Work hard!"

Guts: [throws himself into battle so hard he nearly dies multiple times, fixating on pleasing Gambino the entire time]

Gambino: "C'mon, hurry up! Work! Work!"

Guts: [gives Gambino his entire earnings, Gambino tosses him back a single coin]

Guts: [more motivated by this one mild bit of encouragement than anything he's ever experienced before in his life]

[raifuujin]

It's been more than 20 years and for some reason I feel that Gosho hasn't given Kaiao any development, how can more than 20 years pass and Aoko dynamics, relationship and feelings remain the same? At this point I feel like Gosho is just going to make them date because "they already liked each other" they remain in the same status quo

Hey, if we go by DC romance progress, they've been going too fast. We've already had suspicion of identity chapters, and that didn't happen until more than 400 chapters in DC. /j

Since heists have taken over any character development recently, I don't even know if Kaito and Aoko will even get any romantic progress. Maybe the actual identity confrontation will happen down the line, since that's thief drama, but atm, it really wouldn't surprise me if they only ask each other on a real date at the very end of the manga.

Like. I'm sure Gosho would love to make MK a love drama as well, but he writes MK so rarely, and usually as hype for something Kid related in other media. So the MK stories tend to be heavy on drama that can only take place at Kid heists. (To the point that the new chapters just. Use Kid as the plot device to show off a new character. Even Hakuba's never gotten so much 'look at this character being a detective' treatment in MK.)

-sighs- I just feel bad for MK as a series at this point. I like the characters, I like the general story idea, but. It's been going down a very steep hill with Gosho wanting things exciting, but not wanting any real progress in. Anything. But unlike old MK, the new stories aren't even nice standalone setpieces of story, they're... mundane. They could be high stakes, if you purely look at the scenarios on paper, but. We all know nothing's gonna happen to Kid. Nothing even happens to him when the actual bad guys show up, much less one-time antagonists.

We need actual character focus and development, not heist drama. Badly. Not even romance, though that'd be a nice change. Just any character expansion of our limited cast of characters. Gosho wants big, all the time, meaningless big stuff, when small would be so nice.

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k

There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead. 

Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this. 

He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs.  Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!

Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair. 

Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.

He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.

His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?" 

Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–

The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs. 

One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles. 

There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him. 

"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"

Oh. Yes. That. 

It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.

Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to. 

Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly. 

Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.

Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor. 

Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step. 

Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-

Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's. 

He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.

Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before. 

Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray. 

He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further. 

Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs,  "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"

Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of! 

But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons. 

[frightfulmouse]

i'm like not even Not Enjoying writing this chapter but my god, when will it end?

[cat-dragron]

I'm still so mad that August Kitko was such a mid book and like I would go do far as to say maybe it was bad but it's likely it just wasn't for me.

And then I read Hell Followed With Us and realize hey now... there's a lot of similarities between these two books and wow i am enjoying this other book way more. I almost want to dig into that and figure out why. Can you ever dislike something so much you want to take a scalpel to it and dissect it to find the bloody heart? Yeah that's what I'm feeling with August Kitko... it kinda sucks but I need to know why it makes me so mad.

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa: *writes a single throwaway line in one chapter of Lost and Found that is never referenced again*

Me, completely randomly and with no prompting: Alright, bet–

[reel-fear]

people who still make Joey the ink demon despite canon steering far away from that being the case this is for you I am sending u kisses XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO <3

People who make Joey well-meaning, sympathetic, a lighter shade of morally grey than canon I am also sending u lots of love <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3!!

And people who generally steer wildly from the direction Bendy takes with its characters and has fun with it I hope to see more from all of ur aus and rewrites!!

[jonny-b-meowborn]

You know, I've never been a fanfic person, and so far I've pretty much only read short one shots, I think I've read only one fic with many chapters and a bigger plot? But a few days ago I read a few Road 96 fics I bookmarked in the last few weeks, and turns out!! Two of them are unfinished. One lacks only the final chapter, and that one wasn't as interesting to me so I don't feel bad for not being able to finish it, but the other I got super invested in before I noticed it has only three chapters out of who knows how many. I understand now the hell of finding the perfect fic and having to wait for more. Ough

[protectcosette]

may be an unpopular opinion but the hunger games (2012) kinda sucks

[tariah23]

Opposites attract just finished 🥳🥳🥳

I haven’t had the chance to read it since chapter 18 because of work and fatigue-

[venomgender]

required reading .

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝