#like 1. it doesn’t even matter 2. it’s just the fucking title

[frederickkittens]

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[btssavedmylifeblr]

Void - Part 9 - Tuesday (M)

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Part 9 / ?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: explicit sexual content, entirely too much discussion about semen, some jealousy, possessiveness and slut-shaming, semi-accidental voyeurism

__________

A rush of cold air against your sweaty skin makes you shiver. It’s much cooler out here in the hallway than in the steamy sleep pod behind you. You leave Jungkook behind in the sleep pod, still getting his clothes back on, but your lingering arousal stays with you. 

You’ve barely made it two steps into the hallway when the door across from you opens. Jimin leans against the door frame. Damn, he looks good. He has the sleeves of his dark blue jumpsuit tied around his waist, leaving him in just a loose white t-shirt that rides up his arms as he crosses them. 

“Well, good morning to you,” he says. “And what have you been up to this morning?” The smirk on his face makes it clear he knows damn well what you’ve been up to this morning. 

“Umm…” You wiggle your hips in discomfort, the remnants of Jungkook sliding between your thighs. 

Mercifully, Jimin doesn’t actually make you tell him what you’ve been up to. “Do you have a minute to talk?” he asks, beckoning you to join him in his pod. 

Lord, you really don’t want to have an awkward relationship conversation with Jimin with Jungkook’s semen still inside you. You try to brush him off. “I have a lot of work to do this morning, Jimin.”

He snorts. “Seems like you’ve already gotten a lot done.” He lets the statement hang there as he smirks at you again. It’s very annoying how hot he is right now. 

The click of the door latch behind you startles you into action. The last thing you want is to be trapped in this narrow hallway with both Jimin and Jungkook. “Yeah, okay,” you say, diving into Jimin’s pod before Jungkook sees you. 

“So should I plan on waking up to the sound of you fucking other men every morning or only on Tuesdays?” Jimin asks as he closes the door.

“Well, not on Thursdays.” You are trying to flirtatiously deflect, but irritation flashes across Jimin’s face.

“Yes, well,” he mutters. “I guess I’ll just wait my turn.”

“Hey, you suggested sharing first,” you reply defensively. 

“With one man, not six.”

“Why does the number matter?” You’re already carving yourself into pieces to make them all happy, why did it matter how many? “You’ll still get your turn.”

“Bah!”Jimin stomps his foot in frustration. “I’m not some toddler who is bad at sharing a toy! I don’t want to have you just because it’s my turn.” He almost reaches for you again, but drops his hands in defeat. “I want you to want me.”

You sigh. “I do want you, Jimin.” Even first thing in the morning, with his dark hair falling loosely over his forehead, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. How can you explain that you are genuinely and specifically attracted to all of your crew members without sounding like a floozy? “I’ve wanted you ever since I watched that damn video of yours. And long before that too.”

“Really?” He bites his plush lower lip. “How long?”

You fold your arms and lean back against the other side of the pod. Memories come back to you of your space walk training at the bottom of the ICSE pool. Jimin always hated the overly warm training suits and would strip out of them long before reaching the men’s locker room. His sweaty t-shirts would stick to his skin, slightly translucent. It was impossible to keep your eyes off him as he’d laugh with the other guys and brush his hair back off his forehead, indifferent to your presence.  “Longer than you’ve wanted me,” you finally answer.

His eyes widen in surprise. “On Earth?” he asks. 

You nod. You chastise your past self for ever thinking that your insatiable thirsting for your crew wouldn’t become a problem eventually.

“Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I had no idea.” He steps closer to you. “You were always so closed off.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to want you. Wanting you is highly inconvenient.”

He smiles as he leans in. “But you just can’t help yourself?” He glances down to your lips.

“Oh, don’t look so smug.” You push against his chest as his hands find their way around your waist. 

“I’m allowed to be smug.” He rests his forehead against yours. “The hottest woman in the universe wants me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m the only woman in your—“

But his lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, one hand gripping your waist as the other finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

All your arousal that had been simmering just below the surface comes rushing back as his fingers caress your neck and along your jaw. His lips are just the right balance of soft and firm. You moan as he breaks away from your lips to begin kissing down the side of your neck. 

“But then how can you only want me on Thursdays?” he asks between kisses. “I want you every day. Mondays. Tuesdays. Wednesdays. All the time. God, I haven’t even bothered to remember what day of the week it is for the last two years and now it’s all I can think about.”

“I obviously don’t only want you on Thursdays.” You gasp as his hand finds your breast over your jumpsuit, closer to the surface then it would normally be since you abandoned your shirt with Jungkook. “I’m just trying to be fair.”

“Fairness is overrated.” He sucks on the junction of your neck and collarbone as you tilt your head back to give him more access. “Shit, are you not wearing a shirt?”

His hand is on your zipper before you can answer, tugging it down to discover the answer for himself. “Good lord,” he mutters, hands caressing your bare sides and breasts. “Where is your shirt?”

“I’m having a bit of a laundry problem.” You run your fingers through his hair, holding tight as he peels down your bra and runs his tongue across your nipple. “Somehow all my clothes are covered in cum.”

He groans out loud at that, sinking to his knees as he kisses down your belly, following the opening in your jumpsuit. “Shit, really? Jungkook?” And then he pauses and looks up at you. “What did he do?”

“You really want to know?” You ask and Jimin nods. You laugh. “It’s more what I did to him.”

“Tell me,” he urges. “And take this off.” He tugs at the bottom of your zipper. 

“Made him beg.” You shrug out of the jumpsuit, in your bra and panties once again. Your panties stick to you where Jungkook’s remnants have merged with your own arousal. Jimin’s eyes are glued to them. “Rode him until he came inside me.” 

Jimin licks his lips and looks up at you. “Can I see?”

You tilt your head curiously. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “Maybe it will later, but right now, it’s just super hot.”

A whole new rush of heat runs through you as you slide your panties down. This is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done. One man kneeling rapturously in front of you to see you covered in the release of someone else. It’s debauched and it’s glorious. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop this and wait for Jimin’s assigned day, but your logical brain vacated its post the moment Jimin knelt in front of you. 

“You do like being messy, don’t you?” He runs a careful finger along your labia and your legs tremble. “Doesn’t matter whose cum it is, does it?”

“Fuck, Jimin, please.” You tug on his hair, needing him to do something, anything. 

He gathers a glob on his finger before flicking it to the floor. He stands up and kisses you again, the hand sticky with cum now caressing your cheek. It’s both tender and filthy. And then he’s turning you around to face the wall of the pod. “Bend over.”

Your legs are trembling so hard you have to cling to the wall, but you allow him to guide you down so you’re bent at ninety degrees, hands on the wall, ass out. You hear him strip out of his clothes and then a finger slips inside you. 

“God, you’re so wet.” His hands grip your hips as he replaces his finger with his cock. “How many times did he get you off?”

Jimin eases his way into you and the tenderness makes you groan. “He didn’t,” you pant. 

“Amateur,’ Jimin scoffs. He reaches around to your front and finds your sensitive clit. The trembling in your legs gets stronger as he begins rolling his hips. 

“He wanted to,” you gasp. “Didn’t let him.”

“Don’t even care about your own pleasure, huh? Just want to take all the cock you can?” He pairs the teasing with a firm pressure from both inside and out and you’re shattering around him, unable to deny how much it turns you on to be used by them all. 

You hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, how proud he is of himself, as he tightens his grip on your hips and speeds up his pace.  

“You’re mine now though. You were mine first and you’ll always be mine. Whenever any of them fuck you, I’ll fuck them out of you. Replace them with me. The only cum you’ll be carrying around inside you is mine.” 

He stills, leans over to kiss your back and neck as he fills you up. You can feel his self-satisfied grin against the skin of your back. 

He slides out of you, patting your ass as he goes. Your whole body flushes as yet more cum leaks from you. God, you’re a mess. He kneels down behind you and picks up your panties, sliding them back up your legs. 

“That’s better,” he says as he slides them up and over your ass, trapping his cum against you.  

“Uh, thanks,” you reply, completely at a loss for what to say as a weird cold feeling begins churning in your stomach. You have the sudden worry that Jimin is going to expect every day to go like this, even those that aren’t his. “Gonna go clean up now.”

Jimin grins and kisses your cheek. “See you soon,” he whispers. 

______________

And so you find yourself once again attempting to de-sperm yourself in the space toilets. Another tinge of doubt washes over you as you stare at the flimsy compostable toilet paper and contemplate trying to do this every day for the next 12 years. Is that what you’ve committed yourself to? Multiple times a day? Multiple men per day? Surely they will grow bored of you eventually, right? This falls way outside your mission parameters. Maybe you should call this whole thing off.

Despite your best efforts with the toilet paper, you’re still gross and sticky. Your jumpsuit and underwear are gross and sticky too. There’s nothing for it. You need a shower and some clean clothes. 

Showers weren’t an everyday luxury on the Minos. You could only manage once or twice a week without outpacing the water reclamation system. Technically you weren’t due for another day or two, but you couldn’t wait any longer. 

The showers and the laundry machines sit in the same section of the ship near the water tanks. Before heading there, you jog back to your sleep pod to gather up the rest of your dirty laundry. Jungkook is long gone. Your shirt/make-shift blindfold lies thrown in a corner. As you gather up your scattered clothes, the stink of your laundry makes another way of regret wash over you. You were only one and half days into your new plan and all your clothes are covered in bodily fluids. This is exhausting. 

The laundry machines and showers also happen to sit right next to Yoongi’s workshop and you can’t help wondering about him as you walk in that direction. You haven’t seen him since your striptease in the kitchen.

“Okay, I’m in,” he had sent you. It betrayed so very little of what he’s thinking. And the question of what exactly he wants from you is still unanswered. But at least he has admitted to wanting you. Your stride slows as you pass his workshop, scanning with your peripheral vision while trying to look like you aren’t checking to see if he’s in there. 

But the workshop is dark and empty. Whatever his feelings for you, they will remain a mystery for now. 

God, what is the matter with you? You’ve already fucked two men this morning and here you are pining for a third. That can’t be normal, can it? The ICSE really fucked up when they decided to send the world’s horniest woman on this mission. 

You continue to chastise yourself as you load your laundry into the machines.  The laundry machines sit in a vestibule just outside the showers with a door to the hallway that locks, so you are able to strip off the clothes you are wearing now as well and run them through the laundry while you shower. Removing your wet underwear makes you cringe. How have you managed to go from “first woman to pass the orbit of Mars” to “woman with two different men’s semen in her underwear”?

You’re so preoccupied with your self-slut-shaming that you don’t hear the water running behind the shower door. The door was unlocked and there weren’t any clothes in the machines, so you just assumed the shower was empty. But you are wrong.

Flight Engineer Min Yoongi is standing in the shower completely naked and dripping wet. His back is to you as he washes his face. His long dark hair runs down over his shoulders. When did his hair get so long?

He doesn’t see you, face still covered in soap, but turns his head as the door clicks open. “Hey! Occupied!” he calls out. 

“Oh shit!” you curse, backing up. Shit. You’re naked too. Shit. All your clothes are in the washing machine and must be soaking wet by now. You attempt to cover yourself with your hands as you debate how to get out of here.

“Oh, is that you, Officer?” he chuckles, wiping the soap and water from his eyes before turning to greet you, smirk on his face. “I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until Friday. Come to get a sneak peek?”

Your face is on fire, you are so embarrassed. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

He looks totally calm, running his gaze up and down you luxuriously. “No worries. We are in a ‘consensual sexual relationship’ now, aren’t we? Or should I be hiding my dick from you Saturday to Thursday?”

His demeanor is infuriating and you feel so foolish. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

He shrugs. “Tuesdays are my shower day. No one is ever here but me.” He looks you up and down again and there is really no hiding anything from him. “The real question is what are you doing here?”

Shit. How do you get out of this conversation? “I, umm, needed a shower.”

He laughs, turns off the water and shakes his head, long hair sending drops of water flying around the sealed room. “You know this plan of yours is gonna fuck with our whole shower schedule, right?” 

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as he wraps his hand around his hair and pulls it up into a bun behind his head.

“When did your hair get so long?” Your voice is higher pitched than normal and you grimace.

“Oh yeah…” He tucks one of the shorter loose strands behind his ear. “It’s been getting in my way. I was going to ask if you might have time to cut it on Friday.” He pulls a towel from the wall behind him and wraps it around his waist. 

“Oh, no, no, no…” you rush out, heart skipping a beat at the allusion to your day with him.

“Oh.” He frowns. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“No, I just mean, don’t cut it.” You giggle nervously. “I just mean, uh, it looks good. As is.”

“Aha.” He grins and you watch a water drop glide from his jaw down his throat. “Well, in that case, I imagine there are more enjoyable things we could be doing…” He walks closer, and reaches toward you as your heart races. You close your eyes and give up trying to  cover yourself as his warm wet body comes right into your personal space. “On Friday,” he finishes, reaching the door handle behind you and popping it open. 

God, you hate him. “Um, yeah, sounds good,” you mutter as you dive out of his way. 

“Looking forward to it,” he replies, eyes dark with intention, before heading out the door. “Enjoy your shower, Officer.”

______________

A shower has you feeling much more like yourself again. But when you get to the kitchen for breakfast, you nearly walk right back out when you see who’s gathered around the table. 

Jin, Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung are all sitting at the table, munching on their breakfasts. The prospect of sitting next to three different men you’ve watched orgasm in the last 24 hours makes the idea of eating feel entirely impossible. Not to mention the very hot man you are just pretending to sleep with. How has your life gotten this messy?

You are about to flee down the hallway when Jin looks up and makes direct eye contact with you. 

“Good morning!” Jin greets you and suddenly all four men’s eyes are on you. “Come sit with us!” He pats the chair next to him. “Taehyung made scorched rice.” 

Your brain helpfully chooses this moment to remind you that the last time you saw Jin, you came on his face. 

Taehyung nods enthusiastically and mumbles through a mouthful of rice. “There’s plenty left.” He swallows and gestures to the pot on the cooktop. 

Jungkook springs up from his seat. “I’ll get you some!” He pulls out the chair between him and Jimin, not the one Jin was suggesting. “Have a seat.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks, but I need some coffee too.”

“I’ll get it!” Jimin pops up too. “You rest.” He also clearly gestures at the seat that would put you next to him and Jungkook. Jin frowns slightly, while Taehyung bites back a laugh. 

“Oh, okay…” You run out of objections and sit down at the table while Jungkook and Jimin run to bring you breakfast. “This really isn’t necessary,” you mumble, but they’re not listening. 

Jungkook returns first with a bowl of stew and a plate of scorched rice for you and then sits down next to you. The memory of him on his knees begging to touch you flashes across your mind.

You take a bite of your food as the other men at the table resume eating. Jimin returns a minute later with your coffee. You take a sip and grimace at the too sweet concoction. Jimin still doesn't know how you take your coffee.

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks. 

You swallow it down. “No, it’s fine. Thank you.”

There’s a few moments of silence while everyone eats, before Jin nudges Jungkook with his elbow. “Seems like someone got a pretty early start this morning, huh?” he says teasingly.

“Jin!” you gasp as Jungkook chokes on his food. “You can’t just say things like that!” You pat Jungkook on the back to make sure he doesn’t die. 

“What?” Jin shrugs. “Isn’t everything supposed to be out in the open now?”

“Mmm,” Taehyung nods, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he laughs. “Like the bonobos.”

“Fucking bonobos.” Jimin groans. 

“It seems more awkward not to talk about it.” Jin continues. “We all heard him in there. Why pretend otherwise?”

Jungkook finally manages to swallow. “You heard us?”

“The walls aren’t thick,” Jin laughs. “Impressive that you can go two rounds that early in the morning. Ah, to be young.”

“Two rounds?” Jungkook frowns in confusion. Your entire face feels like it will melt off. Jimin says nothing, but his hand finds your knee under the table next to him and squeezes it.

“Speaking of,” Taehyung interrupts. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”

“We can take you on dates?” Jungkook asks.

“Um yeah, sure.” You answer both questions at once. “Though it’s not like there’s really anywhere to go.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Taehyung nods smugly. 

“Can I take you on a date today?” Jungkook interjects. “Or do you only get one shot per day?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I didn’t really make rules that specific.”

Jimin’s thumb traces small circles around your knee and it’s a reminder that you’re not really sticking to even the limited rules you set out in the first place. Seven men is entirely too many men.

The conversation is mercifully interrupted by a shipwide message on your tablets. It’s from the commander. 

“A reminder to all crew members that any activities of an intimate nature are to be conducted in the privacy of the sleep pods. They are not appropriate for the public areas of the ship, which are monitored and recorded.”

The choice to put this in a written communication rather than an in-person conversation is surprisingly passive aggressive for Namjoon.

Taehyung looks at you. “What did you do?”

“She took all her clothes off in the kitchen!” Jin laughs.

“Excuse you! I covered the camera! You’re the one who ran me ass-first into our commanding officer!”

Jin sighs in delight. “Man, you should have seen his face.”

Jimin’s hand slides further up your leg and you’ve had enough. “Thank you all so much for breakfast, but Hoseok must need me in the lab by now.” You gather the remainder of your breakfast into your arms and back out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.” You’re not even sure which man you’re talking to. All of them really. There’s no escape. You will see all of them later. 

____________

For all your attraction to Hoseok and disappointment that he hasn’t signed your form yet, at the moment, you are a bit relieved. Hoseok puts on another science podcast and the two of you settle into your work for the day, safe in the knowledge that no one will come to proposition you. 

Or so you think until the end of the day, when Jungkook shows up at the lab door with a large plastic storage bin under one arm. Hoseok spots him first. 

“Hey, JK, what’s up?” he asks. “Do you have more samples for us?” He gestures to the box under Jungkook’s arm. 

“Oh, no.” Jungkook swallows, glancing down at the box. “It’s actually food.”

“Food?” Hoseok asks.

Jungkook steps farther into the lab. “I was hoping to treat our biologist to a dinner date.”

“Oh!” You and Hoseok are surprised in unison. 

“So you two are dating now?” Hoseok asks, looking back and forth between the two of you with raised eyebrows. “I thought this whole thing was just...” 

He trails off without saying the rest of the thought out loud and a frown line appears between his eyebrows.

“I’m not really clear on myself.” Jungkook takes this as an invitation to put the bin down on the lab counter and turn to you. “What are the rules exactly? Are we dating? Are we dating all the time or only on Tuesdays? Is it time-bound and when does it end? Does it end at midnight or can we fall asleep together? Can I hold your hand? Can I kiss you? Can I only kiss you on Tuesdays?”

Hoseok’s frown deepens and you rush to cut off Jungkook’s torrent of questions. “It’s not dating,” you try to explain. “We’re not…It’s not a relationship. I’m just trying to help people fill the void of what they’re missing from Earth. Like if they miss dates, we can have dates.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything?” Hoseok asks and you are totally stumped for what he wants the answer to that question to be. “You’re just pretending to be together one day a week?”  

“It’s not personal…” you reply, glancing back and forth between the two men, unsure which one you should be reassuring right now. 

But how could it be personal when you’re the only option? Like obviously they wouldn’t be choosing to date you on Earth. None of them chose you at all. They just miss sex and relationships and you can help them with that. But you can’t let yourself pretend it’s real. Or that it’s about you. 

“Nevermind.” Hoseok begins packing up his stuff. “It’s none of my business. I’ll leave you to your date.” The word “date” has a sarcastic bite to it that is unusual to hear in Hoseok’s voice. The temperature of the room seems to drop as he slings his supply bag over his shoulder and leaves. 

Jungkook turns away from you and busies himself unpacking food from his box onto the counter. His shoulders are a bit slumped and you really wish you could have talked to him alone. “It’s nothing fancy,” he mutters. “Just some sandwiches and drinks.”

You walk over and rest your hand on his shoulder. “That’s really thoughtful, Jungkook, thank you.” He freezes for a moment when you rest your hand on his back, then sighs and leans into your touch. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rub his back. He tilts his neck back and forth and groans in a pleased way. “We can hold hands. If you want. And you can kiss me.”

That’s all the greenlight Jungkook needs as he spins around and pulls you into his arms, He gives you a hungry kiss, then pulls back. “God, I would love you seven days a week if you’d let me.” 

“I know, Jungkook.” A real tinge of sadness creeps into the edges of your mind. You can imagine a world in which it’s just you and Jungkook, passing the time to Europa in an endless string of orgasms and increasingly athletic sexual positions on every surface of the ship as he finds new ways to get you off. You hear Yoongi’s voice chastising you again. Nobody actually gets what they want.

But your regrets quickly melt away the more you kiss him. His kisses are full of fire and desperation. If anything, he seems even more eager than he was this morning. The memory of him kneeling before you, begging to be inside you, is intoxicating.

“I owe you an orgasm,” he murmurs between kisses. 

You can get on board with that plan. “Maybe we skip dinner,” you say as you start steering him toward the door. 

He finds your zipper. “Aww, but I worked so hard. I can get you off and we can still have time for dinner.”

Your hand stops his from pulling down the zipper any further. “Jungkook, this is the lab.”

“So?” Jungkook is too focused on running his hands up and down your hips and ass over your clothes.

“So…” you grab his hands to get his focus back on your face. “Namjoon said sleep pods only.”

There is more to it than that. Something about the lab feels particularly like a betrayal. But it’s hard to put into words. 

“Oh come on, he just doesn’t want us on the cameras.” He starts guiding you by your hips toward the lab bench in the corner next to the door. “But I know where all the camera blindspots are.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just let me show you.”  Continuing to kiss you, he slowly backs you up into the wall just to the right of the door. He leans his forearms on the wall above you, caging you against the wall in between the door and the lab counter. “Pull out your tablet,” he commands.

The camera feed of the lab visible on your tablet appears to show an empty room. “See,” he says, kissing your neck. “No one here. Nothing to see.”

He picks you up and sets your ass on the edge of the lab bench. You like being manhandled by him more than you care to admit. He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. “And this gets you to just the right height…” And then he’s dropping to his knees again. 

“I don’t know…” Your position up on the counter allows you to see out the window in the center of the lab door and out into the hallway. “What if someone sees us?” You want to sound concerned, but honestly the idea has you squeezing your legs together enthusiastically at the risk. 

“They can’t see us from the main hall. They’d have to be coming into the lab.” Jungkook’s hand cups your jaw and turns your face back down to him. “Watch me.” 

God, he’s so hot. Muscular hands and large eyes fixed entirely on you. 

“Okay, okay, but be quick about it.” You shuck your jumpsuit and underwear down your legs. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He starts tracing little circles with his fingers up one thigh and trailing soft kisses up the other. “You remember when you were cutting my hair?”

“Yes….” you groan as his fingers reach the very top of your thigh, just short of where you really want them.

“And you were pulling my hair and using it to get my head in just the right position?”

You nod, ability to speak temporarily suspended as his mouth reaches the tender skin where your thigh meets your hip. 

“Well this is all I’ve been dreaming about since then. So feel free to hold on.” He scoots even closer on his knees, resting your legs on his shoulders and guiding your hands to his hair. 

You weave your hands through his soft dark hair and he groans. Arousal floods through you at the sound, your body responding in kind to how turned on he is. And then he dives in. 

He starts slow, but firm, no hesitation. Long slow strokes of his tongue around your clit, holding a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you gasp. “How are you perfect at this too?”

He chuckles, so self-satisfied. “I’m a fast learner. Now will you relax and stop thinking?”

And you give yourself permission to let your guard down. To close your eyes. To relax into the sensations, the pleasure, the slow steady build. You’re so wet and open you barely notice when he slides a finger inside you, but you do jolt forward when he matches that steady pressure on your clit with internal pressure from his finger. It’s so good, you moan out loud and grip his head tighter.

Your eyes remain tightly shut, but you can hear his grin as he groans. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” The pride in his voice, the pleasure, it’s irresistible. 

And the pleasure builds and builds until it is overwhelming, almost beyond what you can tolerate, hands clenched in his hair for dear life, unsure if you’re trying to pull him off or press him in further. But the stubborn man holds his position, even as your hips buck against his face. “Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…” 

And you’re breaking, shattering into pieces under his tongue and clenching hard around his fingers. 

“Ugh…” you groan, leaning your head back on the lab cabinet behind you. Your breathing slows as you calm down, fingers still tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you open your eyes. 

There’s a face in front of yours when you open your eyes. His eyes are so dark that it takes you longer than it should to realize that they're not Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook is still down on his knees as you process that the other man is standing in the hallway, watching you through the window. 

“Shit,” you gasp, yanking Jungkook away from you. “Hoseok…”

How long has he been there? How much did he see? Was he watching you? His gaze flicks up from where he’s been staring at the connection between you and Jungkook and meets your eyes. The intensity there is so overwhelming that it’s hard for you to make sense of it. Is it anger? Lust? Disgust? Then his eyes go wide as he realizes you see him and he disappears from view.

“Not exactly the name I was hoping you’d yell when you climaxed on my face…” Jungkook grumbles as he stands up and wipes his face on the sleeve of his jumpsuit. 

“Shit, sorry,” You reply as you frantically fight to get your clothes back on. “He was here, he saw us. I have to go.”

“But…” Jungkook gestures across the lab. “I brought dinner.”

“Sorry,” is all you can manage before you race out into the hallway. 

“Hoseok!” you yell as you run down the corridor. “Hoseok, come back!”

He’s not in the kitchen. He’s not on the bridge. “Officer Jung, report your location,” you try on your radio, but receive only silence. 

You are panting by the time you reach the sleep pods. The door to his is closed. “Hoseok!” you shout as you bang on the door. “Hoseok!”

You hear shuffling around inside the sleep pod and know he’s in there. “Hoseok!” you yell, almost on the verge of tears. “Hoseok, please talk to me.” 

The door opens just a crack, not enough to see him. “Please, Hoseok, I need to talk to you,” you plead. 

“I… I… can’t.” he stammers. “I can’t right now. Please. Just… just go away.”

Your stomach is full of lead as you shuffle into your own sleep pod next door and rest your head and arms against the wall, desperately trying to catch your breath. 

He hates you. You disgust him. You’ve betrayed everything you stand for. You’ll never be able to work in the lab again. 

A small knock on the door interrupts your thought spiral. 

“Hoseok?” you ask optimistically, scrambling to get up. 

“No, Jungkook again.” The hot ball of shame in your guts glows even brighter. 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, I can’t right now…” If you see anyone else, you’re going to cry.

“I have dinner for you.”

“I’m sorry.” The idea of eating anything right now feels entirely impossible. “I’m not… I’m not hungry.”

A long exhale comes from the other side of the door. “Okay, goodnight.”

You collapse to the floor of your sleep pod as the weight of all your shame and guilt and irresponsible choices crashes down upon you. 

_____

Part 10

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

When the Levee Breaks pt.1

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you. 

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone. 

“Antsy?” 

“No.” 

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.” 

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work. 

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high. 

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you. 

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to. 

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago. 

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue. 

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over. 

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.” 

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest. 

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down. 

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek. 

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?” 

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you. 

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor. 

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.” 

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.” 

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart. 

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly. 

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.  

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.” 

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction. 

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it. 

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there. 

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.” 

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.” 

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued. 

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you. 

1971: the year you met. 

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you. 

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks. 

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV. 

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.” 

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable. 

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips. 

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.  

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better. 

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin. 

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy. 

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible. 

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are. 

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!” 

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it. 

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows. 

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again. 

“Down here!” you whisper-yell. 

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa. 

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it. 

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.” 

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily. 

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair. 

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours. 

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful. 

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it. 

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all. 

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so. 

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.” 

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him. 

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it. 

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand. 

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…” 

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be. 

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.” 

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek. 

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.” 

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back. 

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended.  Remus just hums in response. 

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself. 

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary. 

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand. 

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. 

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other. 

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret. 

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch. 

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own. 

“Do you?” 

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it. 

“About my crush.” 

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back. 

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?” 

“Of course I did.” 

“What happened?” he echoes. 

“Nothing,” you confess. 

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once. 

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.” 

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you. 

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up. 

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear. 

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues. 

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path. 

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top. 

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it. 

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster. 

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit. 

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender. 

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation. 

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down. 

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you. 

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe. 

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them. 

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off. 

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you. 

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it. 

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.” 

“Other times?” 

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you. 

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.” 

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random. 

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick. 

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid. 

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes. 

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours. 

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state. 

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him. 

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face. 

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…” 

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile. 

“I love you.” 

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe. 

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.” 

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there. 

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed. 

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.” 

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full. 

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation. 

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours. 

“Ready, my sunshine?” 

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus. 

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours. 

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there. 

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry… 

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him. 

pt. 2!

[babyleostuff]

Hiii!!! so I just read your cheol fic when he was being a dick for his s/o caring (it hurts... it's the beginning of the title, sorry brain is fried from uni) I was wondering if we could get the in-between of the fight like in the practice room after s/o left and everyone was shocked. mingyu fought him?? like gotta know what happened, anyway sorry if this is too long

hope yoyr day, night, evening, morning, or whatever time it is for you is going well!! your writing is so captivating too btw

-Nabi

thank you so much for your request 💜 hope you enjoy this!

you can find part 1 here

HURTS SO BAD | PART 2 | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

summary | seungcheol’s pov from my previous fic

genre | angst

word count | 1k

pairing | choi seungcheol x gn!reader

“Fuck you, Seungcheol.”

Instantly, as these words escaped your mouth, he regretted every single thing he just said, praying that he could somehow turn back time. But there was nothing he could do now, the damage was done, and he simply watched you leave with a heartbroken expression.

He wanted nothing more than to crumble into a small ball and hide somewhere far from here. 

Despite the music still playing from the speakers, the silence in the room was almost deafening. Seungcheol could feel the hard stares from the boys, as they tried to wrap their heads around what just happened. 

“Did you actually lose your mind?” Jeonghan was the first to speak up. Seungcheol didn’t dare to look up and face the disappointed expressions of his friends. 

“Never in all those years we have been together have you ever said anything so cruel, no matter how fuck up things were. And now you lash out at your, mind you, partner for being worried about you?” Jeonghan scoffed, clearly angry at his bandmate. 

Seungcheol knew that there was nothing he could say or do to make this situation better, he only stood there with hunched shoulders and a tight throat. 

“What has gotten into me,” he thought.

Yes, he was stressed as hell, and everything irritated him lately, but he swore he would never take his anxiety out on you. Well, until now. 

The jacket you threw at him caught his attention, laying abandoned on the floor. Is this how you feel right now - left behind and neglected, by the person who was supposed to love you no matter what? He took a step to pick it up, still feeling the warmth of your body coming from it. 

“I’m going to fix this,” Seungcheol said quietly, putting the fabric to his chest. 

“Did I hear you right, hyung? You’re going to make it right?” laughed Mingyu, approaching the older one. “You just yelled at your partner and told them the worst things you could have ever possibly said. We can put up with your bitchy behavior, but that’s not an excuse to treat them like shit,” he said, clearly very agitated by the whole affair. 

“Let it go Mingyu, he knows what he has done. It’s his problem now how he’s going to get out of this shit,” said Jihoon, putting an arm on the taller’s shoulder to calm him down. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t change the fact that he just basically emotionally abused one of my best friends.” 

“Hey, don’t you fucking dare saying I abused them in any way,” Seungcheol raised his voice at at younger boy, his emotions getting out of hand. “I know what I have done, and I’m going to make it right again,” he said, not exactly convinced himself. 

“So what, you think you'll buy them flowers, pout and make puppy eyes, and they'll forgive you?” he scoffed and crossed his arms, making him look bigger than he already was. 

“No, making puppy eyes is your thing, I’m not that cheap,” Seungcheol fired right back at him. 

With each exchange between Seungcheol and Mingyu the tension only escalated, the atmosphere becoming charged with a mix of anger, frustration, and hurt. Their tones harsh and cutting, both of them tried to defend their position. Sadness, and disappointment were evident on their faces, further fueling the intensity of the situation. 

“I messed up, alright? But you're acting like I hurt them on purpose-.” 

“Well, to us it looked like you wanted to-.” 

“Could you just stay the fuck away from my relationship and focus on your shitty love life?” 

The rest of the boys, who were skeptically watching what was going on, knew this wouldn’t end well. Mingyu might have been passive most of the time, letting the others walk over him and still not batting an eye, but when it comes to his friends and their well being, he wouldn’t just stand around and watch. 

Wonwoo who was standing by the mirrors slowly came up to Mingyu and patted his back. 

“There is no use Mingoo, you’re not helping here,” he said sternly. 

“Well, I have the right to be angry.” 

“No one said you didn’t, but let’s not add more fuel to the fire, okay?” 

Mingyu glared at Seungcheol for the final time, before turning around and walking out of the room. 

“I’m going to check up on him,” said Mingaho. 

As the tension evaporated the second Mingyu left, Seungcheol could feel his anger turn to sadness and powerlessness. Now not only has he hurt you, but also his friend, who was so dear to him. 

Seungcheol felt trapped, not knowing what to do next and feeling extremely mentally and emotionally drained. He sighed deeply with a blank stare, drained from all of his usual energy. 

With the silence still apparent, everyone parted ways to give Seungcheol some space. Only Jeonghan and Joshua stayed by his side, not knowing what to do. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” asked the oldest, with a tired voice. 

“We’re all here for you, Coups and you're not alone in this. Don’t worry about Mingyu for now, he’ll come around,” said Joshua. “Take a deep breath and try to think clearly about this.” 

“It's just that everything seems to be going wrong, and I feel like I have no control over it.”

“We know, but you should have just talked to them. Why didn’t you do it? Why did it have to come to this Coups?” asked Jeonghan. 

“I don’t know, I really don’t. I thought I was stronger than this, that it would pass and everything would be okay. I just didn’t want to be a burden to them.” 

“Well that didn’t end up too well,” said Joshua, laughing at Seungcheol’s pouting face. 

“Thank you for being here for me. I really need that right now.”

“Of course! That's what family is for. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re all so pissed at you right now,” said Jeonghan. 

“Yeah, for a second there I thought Mingyu was going to punch me or something,” chuckled Sungcheol. 

“I wish he did,” muttered Joshua, and walked away quickly before the oldest could respond. 

“I’m going to make this right,” thought Seungcheol. “No matter what it takes.” 

[farfaras]

First part to this prompt I posted the other day. This is gonna be eventual steddie (sorry, stonathan) and I’m really excited. Title from the song ‘nonsense’ by Sabrina Carpenter.

I think I got an ex but I forgot him

Part 1. (You’re here)

Part 2.

-

If he heard the words: Robin and in love, in the same sentence, with the melodious voice of one Dustin Henderson, one more time. Steve was sure he was gonna lose it.

Listen, he understands where he’s coming from. The kid just wants him to be happy. But he is! Dustin just doesn’t seem to get that. Happiness doesn’t only come in the form of a relationship. His teenage brain can’t comprehend that fact just yet. He wishes he did though, because he’s absolutely insufferable about getting Steve and Robin together.

No excuse or explanation he gives is good enough. Dustin still insists that he needs to try, that this is his chance at true love. Robin is kind of the love of his life, sure, but the platonic love of his life. His best friend, his soulmate, sister from another mister. All that jazz. Dustin doesn’t buy it though.

And Steve’s tried everything! He even told Dustin about that time in starcourt when they were high off his asses. Told him that he confessed his crush to Robin but that she rejected him, and that they were best friends now and nothing else. He obviously left out the part where Robin came out to him. He’s never gonna reveal Robin’s secret to anyone. The only answer he got was that “It doesn’t even matter now! Things could’ve changed! You never know.” Steve knew. He knew that he would never be into his best friend like that, and she would never be into him. Apparently they were the only ones who knew that.

Because of all the fuss Dustin was constantly making, other people started giving their input. Thanks Dustin. They didn’t get it either, didn’t believe they were just Platonic with a capital P. They made sure they knew it too, the whole party, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie. Not Argyle, he said that the energy between Steve and Robin was intense but completely friendly, almost like they were twins. Steve liked Argyle. Of course he had to be miles away.

Most of their friends dropped the subject after the second time Steve or Robin explained the nature of their relationship. Even if they weren’t convinced, they didn’t push. Except for one person. Yep. Dustin.

Who was currently harassing Steve at his job. He didn’t know what else to tell him. If family video wasn’t empty he would just ignore him to do his job but there was nothing to do. He couldn’t even sweep or anything because everything was already done.

“Okay well! There must be a good reason why you guys haven’t gotten together!” Dustin exclaimed. He is so fucking stubborn.

“I already told you, Henderson. We’re. Just. Friends.” He knew it wasn’t gonna do anything. It was just a routine at this point.

Dustin’s expression changed to determination. “Nuh uh. There’s a reason there. And I’m gonna find out!” Shit. Could Dustin figure out Robin? He doesn’t think so. But he’s starting to panic. What if he finds out? Robin doesn’t deserve that. He’d feel like it was his fault, and everything would go to shit.

“Okay! Okay! There is a reason.”

“I knew it! You have to tell me.” Dustin demanded. Well, Steve hasn’t thought that much ahead. He needs to come up with something and he needs to do it fast if Dustin is gonna believe it.

“Look, I haven’t told anyone this before.” Building suspense, nice.

Then, an idea popped into his head and it seemed like the perfect response to all of this. Or maybe it’s the only thing he could think of in such short notice. “I’m gay.” He blurts out. It made sense in his head, really. Robin doesn’t get outed, but she can still look at the reaction she might get when she comes out. (It doesn’t hold any kind of truth at all. Not one Steve can see right now at least.)

Dustin is just staring at him. “What? I don’t, you’re not, since when?”

“Since I was born?” It sounds like a question. Steve didn’t prepare for follow up questions to the reply he literally just crafted.

“There’s no way you’re gay.” At least he didn’t seem disgusted or upset? Is this a good or bad reaction?

“Are you not okay with it?” Steve dared to ask.

“What?! Of course I’m okay with it, I’m just. I don’t care, but you don’t really seem gay. It’s hard to believe.” At least he’s okay with it. He’s still being stubborn.

“Way to stereotype, Henderson.”

Dustin sputters. “Wha- can you even blame me? Who could believe you?”

The next words that came out of Steve’s mouth didn’t actually ask for permission to be said. “My boyfriend can believe it.” He said it so matter of fact that he surprised himself a little. The way he usually took the route of action before thinking was gonna bite him in the ass some day. Would that be today?

“Boyfriend?!! And you didn’t tell me? You don’t have a boyfriend!” He accused Steve. “Who is it?”

Oh. Shoot. Quick, brain. Who could be his boyfriend? Someone his age, that was single, and could be believed to be in a gay relationship.

“It’s Jonathan.” Why did he say that? He just broke up with Nancy, that would just seem like a messy situation. Also is he literally just doing what he scolded Dustin for and stereotyping?

“But he just broke up with Nancy.” Hmm. Did Dustin read his mind or something.

“It’s new. That’s why I haven’t told anyone.”

“Not even Robin?” Oh, crap. Is he gonna have to tell this to people? Well, he should probably tell Jonathan first that he is apparently in a relationship with him now.

“Not even Robin.” Dustin beamed at this.

“You know, even if you and Jonathan are kind of a weird sounding couple, and this is surprising… if you’re happy then I’m happy for you, Steve.” That was weirdly sweet of Dustin.

“Thanks, bud.”

After that and renting a movie, Dustin was on his way. He gave Steve a hug goodbye and hopped on his bike to go home.

Steve had a lot of things to get done now. And he hoped that the first one went well because he didn’t really have a plan B if it didn’t. What had he gotten himself into?

First things first. Asking Jonathan to be his fake boyfriend.

At least for a while.

What could go wrong?

-

Step 1. Get Jonathan to be his fake boyfriend.

Step 2. Probably get Robin in on it?

He’s not sure about that one. This situation was kind of embarrassing, he’d rather just share his embarrassment with the one person who is absolutely necessary. Also Robin doesn’t seem like the type to lie to their friends. Even if it was harmless.

Step 2. Probably get Robin in on it?

Step 2. Make a game plan.

They’d probably need to talk about how this was gonna go. Get all their facts straight in case there were any questions, which there were going to be. Plan how long this was gonna be for. He was getting a bit ahead of himself, but there was no plan B.

Step 3. Hope it’s believable.

He was already outside of the Hopper-Byers home. This shouldn’t be hard, Jonathan is a pretty understanding guy. He wouldn’t judge Steve, or make fun of him. At least that’s what Steve hoped. They’ve been developing a friendship for a while. Which has been going surprisingly well. Fuck. Was this gonna mess it up?

He got out of his car and walked to the door, knocking. El answered the door, she gave him a smile and let him in.

“Is Jonathan home?” Him asking for Jonathan wasn’t a rare occurrence nowadays, so El just nodded and pointed to his room.

He knocked to make his presence known. “Hey, Jon?” He opened the door and stepped inside the room.

“Hiya. What’s up, Harrington?” Jonathan grinned at Steve. Ah. Shit. He didn’t look completely sober. Must’ve smoked something earlier.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you. I’d rather wait until you sober up though.” Jonathan just gave him a thumbs up.

“Happy to have company.” Steve knew Jonathan was having trouble dealing with the break up. They had been together for a while and he thought that those two were gonna beat all the odds and marry each other or something. Maybe they still could find their way back to each other someday. Right now though, it probably sucked.

Nancy was off to college, Jonathan stayed here in Hawkins doing community college. There was no way of knowing how Nancy was taking it, she barely called and when she did it was kinda cut and dry. Although Steve supposed that was a way of telling she wasn’t doing so good either.

They hung out, doing nothing in particular. Just talking, listening to music and Steve sobering him up.

“Did you say you wanted to talk about something?” Jon asked. He looked sober now. Or as sober as his perpetual stoner face could look.

“Yeah… I kinda did something stupid.”

“Don’t we all.” Cute. Was he trying to make him feel better? It would’ve worked if what he did wasn’t as stupid as it was.

“No, seriously. I think this is the dumbest thing I have done.” Understatement.

“It can’t be that bad.” Jon’s words weren’t aligned with his face because it looked like he was starting to worry.

“It has something to do with you too.” With those words, Steve definitely made Jonathan start to worry. “Hear me out first!”

Retelling the events from earlier was excruciating. Steve has never felt this embarrassed before. It sounded so dumb saying it out loud.

“You really couldn’t come up with anything else? Like oh I don’t know. Saying you don’t like Robin like that?” It was like he wasn’t even listening.

“I tried that thousands of times! He wouldn’t buy it!”

“Why haven’t you just dated anyone else? To prove that you’re not hung up on her?” Interesting line of questioning. Honestly, it’s been a long time since someone has made him feel anything at all. No girl caught his attention like before. Has the upside down messed him up so bad that he can’t form romantic connections anymore?

“I just, I don’t really. Taking a break from dating sounded good to me.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Jon didn’t believe him, whatever.

“Look I just panicked, spoke without thinking.”

“You know, I actually thought that Dustin was right about you and Robin before. But if you’re so determined to prove you’re not, to even come up with something like that.” Steve hated this. Was Jonathan getting a kick out of this?

“Are you amused? I’m kinda suffering here.” Steve lamented. “Can you just please help me?

“Oh god, what do you expect me to do? Pretend to date you to get Dustin off your back?” Yes. Please.

“Look! I only ask for a few weeks! It doesn’t have to be for long. Just, a few weeks of fake dating and then just say it didn’t work out and we decided to stay friends. All that cheesy stuff.” God, he was not being convincing at all.

Jonathan still looked skeptical. But at least he was considering it now. “I’ll owe you, big time. Whatever favor you want.” Steve offered.

Jon looked resigned now. He huffed out a breath. “I never thought my first boyfriend was gonna be Steve Harrington.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I always pictured a nerd or maybe a stoner.” He was confused now. Was Jonathan? “Yes, Steve. You should probably know if we’re gonna do this. I also like guys. And I’m assuming you’re okay with it, considering what you just asked.”

“Of course! Thanks for telling me. I’m glad you could trust me.” He was being genuine. Even if Steve was a little surprised, and now felt even more guilty about words he used in the past to insult Jonathan. All the past apologies seemed insufficient. Even so, he was happy that their friendship could develop into this.

“So? How is this gonna work? You really owe me now, you know.”

“Trust me, I know.”

So their friendship wasn’t ruined. Who knows? Maybe this could make it stronger.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

A short list of things I would have changed in HoO

It takes place ten ish years after the end of PJO. Percy and Annabeth aren’t a part of the seven but instead appear as cool older mentors to help out the Lost Hero trio. They both have careers and live in New York and go to Sally’s house for dinner every weekend.

Caleo isn’t a thing. In fact, let’s not even mention Calypso. At most we mention she was freed after the last war as idk proof demigods have some power or something.

More than 1 Asian character. Give this one ADHD and dyslexia bc shocker Asian kids can be disabled as well.

For that matter a properly disabled character. I have a deaf OC I would use if I rewrote the series.

Leo is aroace. His arc is about learning that his self worth doesn’t have to be tied to the people around him and his friends love and care about him and he doesn’t need romance to be complete. His flirting is overcompensation bc he doesn’t feel romantic or sexual attraction and is afraid he’ll be alone forever.

Drew and Piper become friends. Drew’s mean girl bullshit is outdated and boring and it would have been a lot cooler to see her icy exterior thaw and her help Piper with her charmspeck (explaining how Piper learned how to use it to begin with) and take on an older sister role

Neither Leo nor Piper become head councilors to their cabins because that’s dumb

Keep the chapter title style from PJO. It was so fun and one of the highlights of the series for me. The relatable nature of PJO in general was kinda lost in HoO and it’s a shame bc there was such a variety of characters for people to identify with there.

Give Reyna a girlfriend or at least a homoerotic friendship that can become an actual relationship in the next series or something

Frank is 14 and he and Hazel aren’t dating, they just have mutual baby crushes on one another.

For that matter what the fuck was ‘Frank is magically not fat due to Mars’s blessing’ bullshit? Frank is a fat character who stays fat but learns to be confident in himself and his body type.

Stop The Adultification of Hazel 2k23. Hazel is 13, she’s the youngest member of the seven and despite her trauma I think that should be obvious. I think emphasizing her relationship with Nico could be fun here - he’s in his 20s so him taking a more ‘that older sibling who toes the line between parent and sibling’ role here could be fun.

Also, I don’t want Hazel to have Hecate’s blessing or whatever. Between her being a magical horsegirl and the daughter of Pluto there’s already a lot of room to expand on her powers that was never used - I think doing more with her cursed jewels and metals powers and her learning the other aspects of her powers, like Shadow Travel, would be fun.

Instead I think having a daughter of Hecate as a part of the Seven would be cool, because we could still have a witchy character with mist manipulation and magic powers.

Give Jason an actual personality, please. Bro’s been a child solider practically since age 2 and has spent his whole life with the weight of other teenagers’ lives on his shoulders as praetor - give him perfectionism issues and anxiety. We’re told that he’s spent his whole life helping others compromise instead of being his own person - show that. Let his arc end with him deciding to try and live a mortal life and find out who he is beyond being a war general.

Show us that Octavian’s a piece of shit, don’t just tell us.

Leo and Piper are the ones who fall into Tartarus. Nothing romantic ever happens but we get heavy emphasis on their friendship and we get to see their grief over Leo’s mom and Piper’s grandfather respectively

Piper’s grandfather has died a few months ago and she cut her hair herself when her dad didn’t want to let her due to that (correct me if I’m wrong but it’s a tradition in Cherokee culture to cut your hair when a loved one dies, correct?), which is why it’s all uneven. A lot of her insecurities stem from going from growing up in rural Oklaholma (not in a reservation bc there aren’t any there) without much money to suddenly being catapulted into a millionaire Hollywood lifestyle and having everyone criticize everything about her and be really racist, all while her Dad drew farther away from both her and her grandfather. Her arc would be reconnecting with both her culture and Dad and learning to find who she is and her self worth again.

They defeat Gaea in a way that isn’t so anticlimactic and fucking stupid

[takiberry]

OT8 &TEAM KINKS ^__^

🐙: this post contains smut thoughts of: Yuma, Jo, Harua, & Taki! please refrain from reading theirs if you feel uncomfortable abt it!

warnings: it says in the title what it is. 😊

KOGA YUDAI ( K ):

- Daddy Kink: do i even need to explain this..

- Manhandling: He’s a strong buff man 1/2 , i bet he would love being able to throw you around and have his way with you.

- Size Kink: This is pretty self explanatory, he’s huge.

MURATA FUMA:

- Manhandling pt2: What can I say other than how much he loves showing off how strong he is and his muscles, he loves how you grip his biceps while he rams his cock into you

- Bulge Kink: He has a FAAAAAT cock and you can’t tell me otherwise, he would love the sight of the outline of his cock in your tummy :(

- Daddy Kink pt2: again self explanatory…

WANG YIXIANG ( NICHOLAS ):

- Daddy Kink pt3: He just loves being called Daddy what can i say 🤷‍♀️

- Size Kink: He’s a giant too, no doubt he would love how small you’d look being fucked under him <33

- Choking: He has NICEE hands, they’re so pretty, he would love choking you tbh

BYUN EUIJOO ( EJ ):

- Oppa Kink: This isnt ‘cs he’s korean, i swear, i genuinely think he would LOVE being called oppa, no matter if you’re younger or older

- Hair Pulling: He doesn’t care if you have long hair or short hair, he WILL pull.

- Degrading & Praising: His voice is literally sweet like honey, do you realize how much hotter it would be if he starts degrading you but yet praising you at the same time??/?/?/

NAKAKITA YUMA:

- Public Sex: He has a high sex drive and you can’t tell me otherwise 😊

- Restraints ( Giving ): He loves having his way with you, he will use anything to tie you up with like shirts, ties, belts, etc.

- Manhandle: He is one rough man, do you see how quickly he starts gettin all fuckin naggy?

ASAKURA JO:

- Size Kink: I just know he has one, he’s a literal giant if not a fucking titan, he loves being in control and the size kink sets it off for him

- Bulge Kink: He has a big cock, thats it.

- Senpai Kink: Not because he’s japanese, he would love hearing your voice calling him senpai.

SHIGETA HARUA:

- Senpai Kink: He feels a sense of power and dominance when you call him senpai.

- Oral Fixation ( Giving ): He LOVES eating you out, absolutely, 100%. He will overstimulate you.

- Restraints ( Giving ): He wants to have his way with you too, so he will be just like Yuma and use anything to tie you up

TAKAYMA RIKI ( TAKI ):

- Oppa Kink: Something about it to him, he loves how it sounds when it slips your lips.

- Rough Sex: He’s mean as fuck, idc what you say, he will fuck you until you’re SOBBINGGG

- Degrading: Again, he’s def a meanie in bed, like he’s a menace. His degrading is CRAZY.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 3

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: thank you so much for all the love on this little fic! Please consider leaving a comment because they make my whole day 🖤

Additional warnings/tags: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content, dirty talk (like a LOT), pet names, vaginal fingering, begging, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of oral (f receiving), p in v, fluff, mild angst. Let me know if I’m missing anything!

The next couple weeks feel like a dream that you never want to wake up from. Joel comes over every morning and gives you a sweet kiss before heading upstairs to start on his work while you study, actually being able to focus now that the air is cleared with him. He comes down at lunch and sits beside you with a hand on your thigh while you chat and eat, his eyes all soft as he watches you gesture wildly about the topic at hand.

He’s come back over a couple times after working hours. If Tommy or his neighbor’s teenage daughter are able to watch Sarah for a couple hours, he’ll stop by your house to spend time with you. Most of his visits just end with making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers because no matter how much you beg, he still won’t fuck you.

You can’t tell if it’s a residual feeling of guilt or something else, but it’s driving you insane. He’ll enthusiastically do just about anything else, including a memorable evening where he laid you out on the couch and leisurely ate your pussy until you had to literally shove him away from how overstimulated you were getting. And while that was amazing, you want more from the older man.

Two weeks after your conversation and subsequent activities, Joel comes downstairs on a Friday with a smile on his face.

“Hey, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue traces your bottom lip, slipping into your mouth to slide with yours. “How’s studyin’?” He asks as he pulls away, huffing a laugh as you chase his lips with a pout.

“Fine. Boring. How’s the manly manual labor?”

“Comin’ along nicely. Listen, I wanna ask you somethin’,” he says. “Sarah wants to go to the aquarium tomorrow to see the mermaids. She asked if you could come, too.”

You blink in surprise. “Sarah asked for me?”

“Yeah, she won’t shut up about you,” he replies. “You don’t gotta come if you’ve already got—“

“I do! I mean, I do…want to go. To the aquarium with you and Sarah,” you interrupt.

“Good, that’s…good,” Joel says. You’re just smiling at each other like a couple idiots. He clears his throat and glances away for a second. “We can pick you up tomorrow morning. How’s nine?”

“Nine sounds great.”

He nods, knocking his knuckles against the table top in the way he does when he needs to leave but doesn’t want to. He leans down for another kiss, this one chaste and quick as he bids you goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

_______

Joel parks the truck in front of your house, sending you a quick text to let you know he’s here. Sarah is bouncing in her seat, her little body unable to contain her excitement.

He watches you come out the front door in a fucking sundress of all things and he has to bite back a groan of appreciation. You’re usually in shorts or leggings at your house, which are tempting enough, but your little blue sundress with strawberries printed on it has just jumped to the top of his list of “best things he’s ever seen in his life”.

Joel gets out of the driver’s seat and circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you up into the lifted cab. His hand lingers on your upper back, fingers dragging across your warm, smooth skin. He smiles with smug satisfaction as he watches your arms erupt with goosebumps from his touch.

Sarah calls your name excitedly. “We’re gonna see mermaids!”

You twist in your seat to respond. “I know! Just like Ariel, huh?”

Sarah nods excitedly and proceeds to list off the rest of the animals she’s excited to see, including the stingrays and otters and sharks. You nod along with her list and tell her about how much you love otters, and did she know that otters hold hands when they’re sleeping so that they don’t float away from each other?

Joel can’t stop smiling. He can’t remember the last time he smiled for so long his cheeks ached. Your eyes flit to him briefly and you smile back, bright and sweet.

He parks the truck amongst the hundreds of other visitors in the parking lot and Sarah frees herself from the confines of her car seat. You hop down and join her on the pavement, his daughter’s arms wrapping around your waist and holding tightly until Joel joins the two of you.

“Let’s go see some mermaids,” he says.

________

Sarah’s sitting beside you, her little hand holding tightly to yours while she breathlessly watches the mermaid show. It’s two young women in gorgeous green and red tail suits, diving and flipping while an emcee narrates the show. They take the occasional break with a breathing apparatus, but otherwise they’re holding their breath while smiling and waving at the kids sitting with their noses pressed to the tank glass.

When the show ends, Joel asks Sarah whether she wants to meet the mermaids, earning him a shriek that you interpret to be a yes. He holds her hand as you get in line for the meet and greet, and gives her his undivided attention while she recounts every minute of the exact show he just watched beside her.

Joel insists that you get in the picture with them. A teen with a Polaroid camera tells you to smile.

You don’t have to be told twice.

Sarah clutches that Polaroid protectively to her chest and proclaims, “This is the best day ever!”

Your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

________

Joel takes his girls out for dinner after a long day at the aquarium. Sarah sits beside him in the booth at a local bar and grill, clutching a stuffed otter you insisted on buying for her despite his objections that he didn’t want you spending money.

“When’s that exam again?” He asks, snagging one of the nachos from the plate in the center.

“Ugh, end of next week,” you groan. “At this point I’m just ready for it to be over. If I never look at another physics practice test, I’ll die a happy woman.”

“What happens next?”

“Well, I go back to school for senior year. If I bomb the exam, I can take it again before April so that I have my scores available to apply to med school in May,” you say, ticking the steps off on your fingers. “Since I graduate before the end of the application cycle, I’ll have a gap to fill. I was thinking of making it a research year.”

Sometimes, especially in moments like this, Joel finds himself in awe of you, of the way you have your life planned out and your goals ready for conquering. When he was your age, he was still working odd jobs until one finally stuck that he could actually make a living from.

It’s also moments like this that he wonders if he’ll fit into your plans. If you’ll even want him to, or if you’ll go after your next goal and leave him behind, just a fun time from a cruel summer. The thought makes him swallow around the lump forming in his throat.

________

“So, did you want me to drop you off or…,” Joel asks when you’re back in the truck, his eyes fixed resolutely on the road.

“Or…?” You reply, voice dragging the word out.

“You could come over,” he suggests. You bite your lip.

“Why Mr. Miller, are you asking me to spend the night?”

His cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink beneath his beard. “Yeah, I am, baby doll.”

Your breath catches at the endearment. “I’d love to come over.”

His hand crosses the center console, gripping your thigh possessively for the rest of the quiet drive back to his house.

_______

Joel pulls up to a cute two story house at the end of a quiet cul de sac about fifteen minutes from your parent’s home. Sarah fell asleep not long after leaving the restaurant, so he carefully gathers her in his arms and hands you the house keys to unlock the front door for him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he tells you. “I’m just gonna get little miss here in bed.”

“Okay,” you whisper back, watching him disappear upstairs.

You wander through the first floor, into the kitchen with its pretty bay window with a view of a small backyard. You inspect the fridge and the pictures and drawings stuck to it with magnets. There’s a photo of a younger looking Joel with an arm slung around the shoulders of a man you assume is Tommy, based on the resemblance. Another photo with a scared looking Joel holding a blanketed bundle that must be a newborn Sarah.

You reach out to trace a finger over the Joel frozen in time, a version of himself that didn’t know he’d grow out of that fear and be an amazing father.

You nearly jump when hands slip around your hips, fingers bunching the fabric of your dress in their grip. Joel’s beard tickles your neck as he kisses your pulse point and down to your shoulder.

“You have any idea how insane you’ve been drivin’ me all goddamn day?” He asks, voice a rough whisper against your skin. “This dress should be illegal.”

“It’s a perfectly respectable dress!” You argue. His laugh is dangerous, the rumble of it making your thighs clench in want.

“The things I wanna do to you aren’t perfectly respectable, honey.” His hands pull your hips back against his, grinding your ass against the bulge in his jeans.

You reach a hand back to bring his face to yours over your shoulder, kissing him with a desperation that’s been brewing and bubbling for weeks now. One of his strong hands grips a breast tightly, making you moan louder than you meant to.

“Be quiet, baby,” he warns. That hand slides down until he’s reaching the hem of your dress, pulling it up and holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite it. You keep that out of my way, okay?”

You nod, fabric clenched between your teeth as his hand trails down your stomach, fingers finding the damp patch on your panties and pressing it against you.

“Fuck , sweetheart. Been walkin’ around with panties this wet? Pussy so desperate it can’t help but weep, huh?”

Those fingers slip past the elastic and the first touch to your sensitive clit has you trying to squirm out of his tight hold.

“Uh, uh,” Joel admonishes. He cups your entire pussy roughly. “You stay still or I stop. Still and quiet so I can take care of you, alright?”

You sob around the fabric clenched between your teeth and he takes that as agreement.

His fingers slide through your wetness and he groans into your ear, nipping at the lobe as he circles your clit, the delicious roughness of his callouses making you whine.

Joel only dips the tip of one finger into your hole, withdrawing quickly and leaving you clenching on nothing. When you whine again, he takes pity on you, finally plunging one deep inside before dragging it out slowly, curling it against you.

“You’re gonna be the goddamn death of me,” he growls as he adds a second finger, the stretch of it making you moan. “But Christ almighty, what a fuckin’ way to go, huh?”

With his fingers stretching your cunt and his thumb pressing to your clit and his dirty words in your ear, it's no surprise that you’re already standing on the precipice of release.

“Come on, baby, don’t hold back on me, I can feel you gripping my fingers so fuckin’ good.” His hand works faster and you cry out, the fabric of your dress falling from your mouth. It’s swiftly replaced by his hand. “That’s it, good girl.”

Joel pulls his hand from your underwear and you slump against him, boneless and sated. He’s turning you around in his arms, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, urging your legs around his waist. He takes a few steps and sets you on the counter.

“Baby, I gotta fuck you,” Joel says, his voice tinged with desperation. “Can I fuck you, sweetheart?”

________

Joel holds his breath as he waits for you to respond, watching your blissed out expression. You smile at him, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a deep, filthy kiss. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip, pulling it gently with you as you lean back.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you whisper, spreading your legs. “Been dyin’ to have your cock in me.”

Joel reaches beneath your dress to tear your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. He reaches into his back pocket and hands you the condom he’d stashed. “Open this,” he commands as he undoes the fly of his pants, shoving them down his thighs in a hurry.

You tear open the foil packet with shaky hands, handing the latex over to him to roll down his length. He slides his cock through your wetness, reveling in how your head drops back with a groan of his name.

Joel begins to ease inside, gritting his teeth as he sinks into your warmth. He’d imagined this countless times and yet nothing compares to the real thing. How your body opens up so sweetly, like it was made just for him. How your mouth drops open as you watch him break you apart.

He forces himself to go slowly, to give you time to adjust. You’ve got one hand propping you up on the counter and the other gripping his shoulder so tight he thinks he might bruise.

“I gotta move, sugar, you feel too damn good,” he says through his teeth. “Tell me I can move, baby, please.”

“Yes, yes, move,” you reply.

Joel withdraws slowly before slamming forward, punching a gasp from your lungs. He does it again and again and again, hardly wanting to be disconnected from you for even a moment. He watches your face, committing the flush of your cheeks and the shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes to memory.

“ Joel,” you sob, your hand digging into his hair and pulling him close. You’re not kissing him, too fucked out for that much coordination, but your lips linger against his as the two of you share the same breath.

“That feel good, darlin’?” Joel asks. You nod your head vigorously. “Come on, baby, tell me how good my fuckin’ cock feels.”

“F-feels s-so g-good,” you stutter. “Want more.”

“More? Tell me how to give you more, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

“Touch me, baby, please.”

Joel maintains his relentless pace as he reaches a hand down to draw sloppy circles over your clit. He watches as you bite your lip, a single tear slipping down your cheek in an effort to stay quiet. He leans forward to kiss it away.

It’s not long before you’re tightening around him, your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm looms. His own hips stutter in their rhythm.

“Come on, sweetheart, need to feel you cum all over my cock. Can you do that for me?”

You wrap both arms around his shoulders, keeping yourself pressed tightly to him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder to suppress your shout as you pulse around him. With a growl, Joel follows your lead to ecstasy, spilling inside of you.

His hips slow to a stop, but he keeps himself pressed inside of you, not ready to break the connection. He pulls back only enough to press a slow, languid kiss to your lips.

“That was gorgeous, darlin’,” he says, and he fights a laugh as you blush and squirm beneath him, as if you hadn’t just been begging for and cumming on his cock not five minutes earlier. He slips from your warmth with a groan and you give a little whimper.

He disposes of the used condom, pulling his pants back up but not bothering to button them. He returns to stand between your legs and you drape your arms around his shoulders, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What is it with you and kitchens?” You ask. Your face splits with a cheeky grin.

Joel laughs so hard his stomach hurts, your own giggles echoing him. He drags you off the counter, setting you on your feet.

“Come on, let’s get to bed.”

Tags: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3

[rorywritesjunk]

Oh, go to sleep, Little Skylark. Fly up past the stars

After breaking your heart, Buggy is cursed to be a kid again. The last thing you want to do is be involved with this.

Rating: PG-13ish. Warning: First chapter isn't nice. Buggy is a dick, the Reader is petty. There's tears, a breakup, things like that. Just a heads up about that. No physical violence or anything but Buggy is very much a dick. A/N: This is what I originally wrote before the other Kid Buggy fic. I decided to revisit it and tidy it up before posting it. This has no connection to the other story at all. Completely different.

Title comes from "Little Skylark (safe at home)" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8

*Little header made by me

Chapter 1

As much as you loved your boyfriend, he was getting on your nerves lately. It seemed like every chance he got he found something to whine or complain about, like his food being too hot, the bed being too cold, or the sun being too bright, which that last one frustrated you the most because that was out of your control. Why was he acting like such a child lately? It was like he was purposefully trying to make you mad, to get you to give up on him, but you hadn’t yet. You didn’t want to.

You tried to brush it off at first, but after weeks of it you finally snapped at breakfast.

“The eggs are too runny.” He grumbled as he poked at them with his fork, glancing over at you. “Did you suddenly forget how to cook them?”

Your response was to overpour his coffee for him, not caring as it spilled onto the table. Next you slammed your own plate onto the table, ignoring him as you ate your eggs. It was too early for him to complain, but you knew he’d eat the runny eggs so what does it matter? He would have complained if the yolk was too firm, or if they weren’t salty enough, so why were you bothering?

“Just eat them.” You told him as you lifted your fork into your mouth. “No wasted food, got it?”

Buggy made a face at you as he poked at his food. This man was in his damn 30s and was acting like a bratty child.

“Why did you cook them so poorly then?” He asked. “You’re the cook, you’re supposed to be able to cook things properly!”

“Buggy, it’s too early for this.” You said, trying to remain calm as you ate, but he was starting to already get on your nerves.

“You can’t even cook a damn egg right!” He exclaimed as he slammed the fork down.

“Then cook your own damn food next time!” You snapped back. “Or maybe get yourself a new cook, because clearly it’s not up to your refined tastes!”

“How hard is it to even cook an egg?!”

“Not hard, so go ahead and cook your next meal yourself, Buggy!” You pushed your plate away from you as you stood up. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” He muttered as he carefully lifted his coffee cup up, trying not to spill any more out. “This is all ridiculous.”

“What did you say?” You asked with a frown. He paused for a moment, not realizing you heard him.

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t look at you, taking a careful sip of his hot coffee. “Fuck, this is too hot.”

“What did you say, Buggy?” You tried again. Did he really say you were being ridiculous? You couldn’t have heard that right. 

Buggy set the coffee down and crossed his arms, refusing to look at you. “I said you’re being ridiculous. It’s just cooking. Why is it so hard for you to get right?”

“Excuse me?” 

“If you can’t get the food right, I’ll need to find another cook.” He told you. You stood there in shock. What was he even talking about? What did that even mean? Did he realize how hurtful that was? “Got it?” 

“Is this just because the egg yolk was too runny?” You asked, voice wavering a bit as you tried to keep yourself from blowing up at him. “Because I’d like to see Cabaji in here trying to cook. We all know how that will turn out.”

“Sleeping with me doesn’t give you a free pass to slack on your duties, y’know.” He told you as he looked down at his coffee. 

Okay, that stung. Why was he being like this? 

“Is that so?” You said. “Is that what you think is happening? Or are you tired of having me around, Buggy?”

He turned and glared at you. You didn’t back down, staring back at him as tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Can’t have a useless cook on board.” He muttered. “Won’t do any of us any good.”

Useless. He just said you were useless.

You clenched your fists. You weren’t going to cry in front of him. Did he really think that? This felt out of the blue, but the last few weeks it was like he was up to something with how he was acting towards you. Was he trying to drive you away on purpose? Was he tired of you, of having you around? 

“Guess I’ll find a new job elsewhere.” You told him through clenched teeth. He looked away from you again. 

“Fine.”

It was like a knife to the heart. You loved this idiot, but clearly he didn’t feel the same way if he was talking to you like this. Was there even a reason to stick around anymore? When you had joined the crew two years ago, you were excited to be on a pirate ship, to have adventure, but you never anticipated falling in love with the stupid captain, and you thought he was in love with you. Had the last year just been a joke to him?

The ship was due to stop at a port in a day. 

~

You avoided Buggy the rest of the day. 

You didn’t make lunch for him or the crew, which had them confused. Buggy even had the balls to ask where the food was, but you just shrugged.

“You haven’t found a useful cook yet?” You asked. “Well, I’m sure someone onboard knows how to cook better than me.”

And you walked away, leaving behind a very angry captain.

And when it was time for dinner, Buggy was surprised to see you cooking up a steak. Oh, maybe you decided that the stunt you pulled at lunch was petty and were apologizing to him for it. His mouth watered when he saw how tasty the steak looked, and he waited in anticipation as you plated it, but then you walked past him with it, leaving the kitchen and going out on deck. Confused, he got up and followed after you as you went below. The crew looked up from where most of them were lounging, and Mohji appeared to be waiting for you, but when he saw the captain he froze.

Ignoring the beast tamer, you pushed past him and opened Richie’s cage. The lion perked up at seeing the steak. You tossed the cooked meat to him, ignoring Buggy’s frustrated scream.

“You fed the lion before you fed me?!” Buggy shrieked. You held the plate out for Richie to lick clean. “And you fed him a steak?!”

“You did say I was useless.” You shrugged. 

“You still have to cook us meals, you know!” The captain snapped. You stepped out of the cage and shut it before you turned to look at him.

“I’m getting off the ship when we arrive tomorrow.” You told him as you crossed your arms. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of cooks in town who’d want to join this… crew of yours.”

That seemed to surprise Buggy, which confused you. What did he expect you to do after the way he spoke to you at breakfast? You told him what you were doing and he went along with it. Why was he now acting surprised?

“You’re leaving the crew?” Mohji asked, startling you for a moment. You forgot he was there, and was a little embarrassed that this discussion had an audience. “Why?”

You looked over at him before turning back to Buggy. Did you want to make a scene or just move on? Buggy was one for the dramatics, to have the attention on him, but you… weren’t. You didn’t want any more attention on you than you needed to have. So you shrugged and looked back at Mohji.

“Time to move on, I guess.” You told him. “My cooking skills have been lacking lately, so I think it’s time for you to have a better cook.” You glanced over at Buggy, words you wanted to say were on the tip of your tongue, but as upset as you were, you wouldn’t talk down to him in front of the crew. “You’ll find someone.”

~

You packed your clothes and other belongings into a bag. There had to be an inn to stay at on the island, maybe one of them would be hiring. You didn’t want Buggy’s words about your cooking skills to get to you, but saying you were ridiculous and useless stung more than anything. It was hard not to replay them in your head throughout the day. Why did he say those things? He wasn’t always great at communicating how he felt, but he never spoke to you like that before.

You ducked out of the once shared room once you were packed, leaving the bags at the door while you went to find a place to finally cry. There were some casks stacked up near the quarters that you were able to duck behind, giving you a place to cry. You were choosing to leave. His words made it clear you weren’t needed. 

Once you got the tears out, you hugged your knees to your chest and let your head thunk against one of the casks. He used to say how delicious your meals were, no matter what it was, and you apparently brewed the best coffee whenever he asked. He felt so lucky to have you on his crew, he would tell you after three helpings of dinner while you cleaned the kitchen. And then there was his birthday, where you baked him a cake, and he was drunk and kissed you, saying how much in love he was with the cook. 

But the last few weeks… he changed. You tried a few times to talk to him when he’d make comments about the food, ask him what he would have wanted instead, but he wouldn’t tell you. He stopped seeking you out, wouldn’t sleep near you in bed. He was shutting you out and wouldn’t tell you why.

This morning finally broke you.

~

You didn’t sleep, choosing to stay out on deck. Buggy even asked if you were going to be in the room with him but you wouldn’t talk to him. You just made yourself comfortable against one of the masts until morning when the ship pulled into port. Mohji and Cabaji came out to see you off, as did some of the other crew, but Buggy was nowhere to be seen. Probably for the best because you weren’t sure what you would say to him for some final words. You didn’t even say bye to the others, just gave them a nod as you picked your bags up and stepped off the ship. 

Maybe this could be a new start of some kind.

[kaeddehara]

saying “you’re mine” part 2

part 1 can be found here !

[ heizou + cyno + kaeya ]

an: i might add a kazuha part on later but i’m very exhausted atm and this is all i could get out my apologies

heizou <3

[ exhibitionism, reader is bratty, teasing heizou <33, implied sir kink ]

lately, heizou had been working so long in his office for the commission. he tried to reason with you, saying that lately crime has been up and more and more cases are being pushed onto him. you have no reason to be upset with him besides for the lack of time getting to see him. the easy solution would be to show up at his office just for a quick visit. so you plan it out and show up with a nice meal you prepared yourself. walking into his office, he doesn’t look up and almost sends you off thinking you’re another employer asking for something else from him. but when his tired eyes look up and see your cute smile, he can’t help but relax in his seat, going on about how much he misses you.

“this is for me too? god you’re always so thoughtful. i’ll be home tonight so maybe i can figure out some way of repaying you”

his usual flirty tone had even more of an effect on you as he was whispering it into your ear while you sat on his lap.

“well if you’re so set on repaying me, why don’t we start now?”

you smile, leaning back into his chest, hands wandering over the slits in his top.

“you can’t even go a few days without needing me huh?”

“sorry zou, i can’t help that”

heizous fingers slip down over your curves and down to your thighs where he attempts to finger with the detailing of your panties. only, there’s no fabric he finds and instead is met with your warm heat inviting him in. heizou let out a small huff at this realization, giving you a small squeeze on the inner thigh.

“no panties either? you set me up didn’t you?”

“didn’t take much for you to fall for it did it?”

your teasing remarks always made heizou so much more turned on.

“you’re not wrong but i wouldn’t get too confident. you’re mine after all, i can do whatever i desire with you and you’d love it wouldn’t you?”

“of course.”

it didn’t take much longer so heizou to have you bent over his desk. chair pushed back and pants pulled slightly down while he fucked you in your pulled up skirt. your pussy so wet and sloppy, you could practically hear it squelching each time heizous hips came in contact with yours.

“take it, you wanted to be a slut and show up to my office while i’m working just so you can get fucked. take the punishment you deserve”

“oh—! yes sir!”

you knew how much that title turned him on, he should’ve punished you for being such a tease while he’s at work. but heizou just couldn’t, not when he missed pounding you like this against his desk.

cyno <3

[ exhibitionism, marking and biting, possessive cyno <33 ]

cyno was always so busy with work. not matter what he’d have some mission or commission to get on. and if not that, then he’d be stacked with paper work. often times, he’d walk past you in the city or maybe even take you out on a commission with him just for extra support. having another strong member beside him to fight is always helpful. plus, cyno couldn’t deny how attractive you were when you fought. maybe it was just his interest in combat in general that led him to those thoughts or maybe it was the way your body constricted to your clothes. either way cyno found you irresistible. finding himself pushing you to the ground in the midst of his running mind.

“what’s wrong cyno?”

you searched his face all over for some sort of sign, worrying that more enemies were coming and he was protecting you. instead, the only thing you were met with on his face was need. those worrying thoughts quickly shifted and made it oh so clear what was running through cynos mind.

“right now cy? while it’s so hot outside?”

you dramatically asked as he took in a notice of your glistening skin under the suns rays and the slight slow or sweat that covered it.

“just— shut up”

he mumbled before moving his mouth it to an open spot on your neck. biting and sucking a nice dark marking on you all the while tasting you and letting you melt in his mouth.

“don’t cover yourself up when we get back to the city, i have to let them know you’re mine”

cyno meant his words and covered your neck and chest with love bites. to say the least, both you and the general got some pretty suspecting looks on your walk back home through the city.

kaeya <3

[ drinking/getitng drunk, jealous kaeya, implied events <33 ]

kaeya would often find himself in a bar or more specifically angels share after a long day of work. sitting down in a booth with you across from him while you both drank a healthy amount. both of you finding conversation with other patrons of angels share just as equally drunk. and although you can hold your alcohol well, kaeya can hold his even better. taking notice of all the men trying to get your attention. although you were all drunk, kaeya can help but let the vision of you flirting with all those drunk knights burn into his eyes.

your walk back home was peaceful and uneventful, kaeya having to hold your waist to keep you by his side while you draped your arms over him, cooing at him.

when you finally got settled, kaeya sat with his legs spread and head thrown back at how tired he was. groaning softly until he felt a weight on top of him that being of you straddling him. kaeya only smirked in response to this, putting his gloved hands on your waist to keep you straight up.

“are you tired baby—“

he didn’t even finish his question before your lips were right on top of his. desperately kissing his soft lips which tasted bitter of wine but didn’t stop you one bit. your hips began getting into a rhythm almost subconsciously as you deepened your kisses with kaeya.

“well i know the answer to my question”

kaeya chuckled while your lips stayed parted and you made the most adorable face at him.

“you want more don’t you?”

“yes kaeya i need this”

“oh you need it? like how you needed all that attention at angels share?“

you were lost in thought just trying to convince kaeya out of being so stubborn.

“i’m yours kaeya! i was just having conversation it was nothing more”

“well if you’re mine, why not prove it to me?”

[xoxoladyaz]

When Stevie Harrington was nine years old, she wrote her future self a list on the front page of her diary. The title of the list read

RULES FOR STEVIE’S FUTURE HUSBAND

and it felt necessary to her nine-year-old self to have this list. Sure, she was young, but she wasn’t dumb. Her parents weren’t like Tommy’s parents who had date nights and kissed each other every time they said goodbye. Stevie’s parents never hugged or kissed each other (or her). And sure, they spent all their time together, but they never looked happy. No, they were always angry, and no matter what Stevie did she couldn’t figure out why. 

(At least, not until Tina Kline’s birthday party.) 

And as soon as she returned home from the party, she ran up to her room and started her list because Stevie Harrington wanted to fall in love someday, she wanted to have a house and a husband who was nice like Tommy’s dad, so it was important that she remembered the Rules.

1. He couldn’t be too old

(They’re ten years apart in age, she heard Mrs. Kline say. That’s just such a large age gap. It’s no wonder that it’s not working, they’re clearly at two very different stages in their lives.)

2. He couldn’t travel all the time for work

(It’s not the age gap that’s the problem, dear, Mrs. Hagan had scoffed back at her. It’s all of Richard’s frequent ‘business trips.’ It’s hard to have a family or a relationship if your husband is never around.)

and most importantly,

3. Any guy who dated around too much before was BAD NEWS

(Girls, we all know what the real problem is, and it has nothing to do with how old Richard is or how much he travels, Mrs. Perkins spoke with determination. Richard has never had a serious relationship in his life. We all know that he made it abundantly clear he was never interested in settling down. He had a new girl every week and she was one of them, for god’s sake! A tiger doesn’t change his stripes and Victoria was a fool to think a baby would change that.

Maybe if they’d had a son, Mrs. Kline had offered, but then they noticed Stevie was there and they stopped talking.)

It was a short list, but it was a good place to start. And as Stevie grew older she added more on to it, like make sure he wears deodorant and has to be a good dancer and never date a guy with a mullet (looking at you, Billy Hargrove.) And that’s not even to mention her large period of self-growth after college when Robin finally convinced her to go to therapy to talk about her family issues, at which point she added on you deserve someone who loves and appreciates everything about you and doesn’t just use you for sex (and fuck, that was a hard and painful lesson to learn. It also put a bit of a damper on dating in her early-twenties but, well, seeing the quality of man that was out there? It was probably for the best. She didn’t want to be Victoria Harrington, after all.)

So why, if Stevie had this list, if she’d had all of these years of preparation, if she knew exactly what she wanted – and more importantly, what she didn’t want – then why, at the age of twenty-six, was Stevie Harrington falling headfirst into a relationship with a world famous rock star who was

1. Twelve years her senior

2. Currently on tour and

3. Had a long, long string of famous (and infamous) ex-lovers?

(And why was her heart telling her that despite all evidence to the contrary, Eddie Munson was going to be the exception to all her rules?)

A/N: LMK if you want to see more of this!

[celestial-toys]

That I Would Be Good [2/5]

Mind Games

“Contrary to that thing, my monitor doesn’t need to be on in order for you to interact with me. No eye-strain or migraines required.”

You lean back in your chair, muttering as you turn to face him. “Just trading one kinda ‘strain’ for another if you ask me…”

He idly turns your mug over in his hands. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Your brows raise and you cock your head up to look at him. “That’s… mature of you.”

His optic's focus doesn’t move from the mug in his hands. “…One of us has to be.”

- - - - - - -

In This Chapter

Moon walks in on you in a vulnerable state, Sun displays his concern over your health in his own strange way, and they both attempt to care for you as you chip away at your work.

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader

Word Count: 4,606

Contains: [AU - Real World | Sentient AI/Automatons | Personality Swap] [depiction and discussion of EDNOS (including mentions of weight gain + disordered eating and its slew of related thoughts and behaviors)] [invasion of privacy (both intentional and unintentional)] [more of Sun’s usual brand of tension and intimidating behavior]

A/Ns: This is a songfic. Lyrics and title are from ‘That I Would Be Good’ by Alanis Morissette.

This fic is part of my AU “[Not] Made by Design”, the full series can be found here.

Links to other parts of this fic: [Ch.1] [Ch.2 (you are here)]

That I would be good even if I gained ten pounds.

You glare down at the bathroom scale in a brief moment of anticipation, and the illuminated digits that soon flash back at you make you regret stepping up here in the first place.

A critical little voice fills your head, speaking to you in a smug tone as you watch the scale’s display time-out and go blank.

“What else did you expect?”

You stand frozen in place, eyes darting over to your phone lying on the counter by the sink. The screen displays a document containing a substantial number of weigh-ins, body measurements, progress photos, and more. It’d gone unopened for a blissful few months before that damned voice urged you to open it again.

“You’d surely feel better if you got healthier,” it said.

“You’d be healthier if you lost some weight,” it said.

“You’ll thank yourself later,” it said.

“You’ll do it right this time,” it said.

“It’ll be worth it,” it said.

You’re familiar enough with this cycle to know not to fall for it’s words, but fuck do they sound good sometimes. They sound right. They manage to convince you that that’s really all there is to this nagging desire. They frame it around your health, they paint it in a pretty, harmless, positive light, and you eventually cast aside all better judgment and wade back into that familiar sea of lies.

You’re surprised it hasn’t drowned you yet.

You do the quick math in your head and frown at the confirmation that you’ve nearly gained back the same damn ten pounds that you’ve lost and gained more times than you’d like to count.

The logical part of your brain is pleading with you to listen to reason.

That your body feels safe here, and that there’s a reason for that.

That there’s a reason you keep bouncing back to this weight when you eat like a normal human instead of an obsessive, restrictive control-freak.

That every time you restrict and deny and starve yourself down toward your “goal weight” you’re only hurting yourself.

That once you inevitably give in to the human need for food, your body is only going to put on more fat-reserves to try and protect you.

That no matter how many times you listen to those lies, your efforts to be “healthy” will never do you any good as long as the focus is on your appearance.

That try as you might to hide it, you’re not living alone anymore. That eventually- sooner or later- your ever-observant house-mates are going to catch on to what you’re doing.

Apparently, “sooner or later” is actually right fucking now. As you stand in place, fully naked and perched on the bathroom scale lost in thought, the door swings open and you aren’t sure if it’s you or Moon that shouts first.

You jump in shock and immediately move to cover yourself, unable to get a coherent word in over Moon’s shouts of “SORRY—SORRY—DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WERE IN HERE—I AM SO SORRY!”

He twists his faceplate 180 degrees on its axis so damn fast that you’re afraid he’s damaged some internal components in his rush to prove that he isn’t looking at you. He rushes back out of the bathroom, swinging the door closed behind him, and you slump against the wall, cradling the bathrobe you’d instinctually ripped off its hook against your chest. As you try to calm your heart, you hear the muffled sound of Sun’s irritated voice growing louder as he presumably approaches the door to investigate the noise.

You hurriedly wrap yourself in the robe before any more unfortunate incidents can occur.

“What the hell are you shouting about?! Is everything okay?”

Moon’s voice is a lot quieter when he answers him. “...Yes—No—I… I mean…” Silence hangs in the air. “I don’t… know.”

“What does that mean? Are they okay or not? Yes or no?!”

“Everything… is fine, Sun. Everything’s fine.”

A pit of fear begins to grow in your stomach at Moon’s haunted tone.

Surely he didn’t have time to realize what you were doing amidst his rush to vacate the bathroom… right?

“Sure as shit didn’t sound fine! What happened?”

“I just… I accidentally walked in on them in the bathroom. We startled each other. That’s all.”

You can feel the tension through the door.

“You’ve always been an awful liar, Moon. Now tell me the truth.”

Your eyes cast across the scale on the floor, the unraveled measuring tape sprawled across the counter, and your phone, its screen still lit up, displaying your detailed list of measurements.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

He put it together that fast?

“…I don’t think the truth is mine to tell, Sun.”

A terribly uncomfortable silence falls between the two of them, and you can only assume that they’ve moved whatever remains of the conversation to their internal chat.

You weigh your limited options as you take a seat on the edge of the bathtub, cursing your past self for ever confiding in them about your history of disordered eating. Why’d you think that was a good idea?

You could try to play it off, make a big deal about getting walked-in on while naked and pray that they conveniently forget what else Moon saw.

Or, you could try convincing them that it's different this time. Use all the same tactics that the disorder uses on you.

Or, you could try being honest. You could try being open with someone about this for a change. You could try asking for some damn help.

A soft knock on the door takes you out of your thoughts. Moon’s strained voice follows it. “Star, uhm… whenever you’re decent, I think the three of us should talk.”

You hear a sudden sound-the reverberation of rubber on metal-and Sun grunts out a muffled “Fuckin’-stop it! Okay- okay- y’ don’t gotta hit me…” before his voice follows Moon’s. “We aren’t… mad, if… if you’re worried about that. We’re just concerned. And we want to talk. That’s all.”

You close your eyes, and feel the pang of a painfully empty stomach.

Your voice comes out colder than you expect it to.

“I’m decent. Just open the door.”

A few seconds pass where you wonder if they even heard you, but then the door handle twists and the last remaining barrier between them and your poorly hidden secret is removed.

Moon enters first, looking concerned, of course, but also… almost… guilty. Internally, you scoff. It’s not like it’s his fault that you’re like this.

His monitor pivots, sweeping across the room but not lingering for long on any one thing, apparently already having seen enough in the brief moment between first opening the bathroom door and then registering your unclothed presence in the room.

You didn’t expect his environmental processing speed to come back and bite you in the ass like this.

His focus eventually settles on the floor tiles as he shuffles into the small room far enough to leave space for Sun.

You wrap your arms around your middle as the solar bot steps into the room, uncharacteristically… distant.

Well. Emotionally, his distance is nothing new, but he’s got quite the penchant for invading personal space, particularly yours, so the way he lingers near the doorway doesn’t go unnoticed. You watch as he silently leans forward, monitor shifting away from you and over toward your phone on the counter. He bends down to get a better look, apparently not shy about confirming Moon’s assumptions regarding what you’d been doing in here. He lowers a pointed finger to the screen, back-scrolling through your records and lingering on a few… unflattering photos.

You grit your teeth and grow restless in the tense silence. The uncomfortable vulnerability that comes with his casual invasion of your privacy manifests itself in your defensive tone. “Either of you gonna say anything or am I supposed to just sit here quietly as Sun reads about exactly how fat I’ve gotten?”

Moon’s head tilts slightly toward you, brow furrowed, and Sun mirrors the expression as he puts your phone to sleep with a defiant huff. You suspect he could easily unlock it and continue his investigation if he so chose, given his penchant for surveillance. He seems to recognize though, or at least finally acknowledge the rudeness of it, pulling back and righting himself, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “I couldn’t care less about that. I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

Moon pulls in a breath he doesn’t need, trying a gentler approach. “I apologize for walking in on you. I promise I… didn’t see… much.” He pauses, considering his words carefully. “…I can… show you? What I saw? I’ve already censored it. Or, uhm… I can just fully delete it if you’d like me to.”

The reminder that he can recall exactly what he saw and relive it again as many times as he’d like isn’t something you want to think about right now.

Maybe if you fling yourself backwards into the bathtub, you’ll hit your head so hard that at least you’ll be able to forget that any of this ever happened.

Pushing aside the intrusive thought, you shake your head. “I… appreciate the offer, but honestly that’s not what I’m concerned about right now.” You huff. “Hell, I’ve seen the two of you stripped bare, inside and out. Maybe it doesn’t hurt to level the playing field… I don’t know.”

The expression on Moon’s face changes, looking like he’s about to speak, and you cut him off before you all can wade any deeper into that discussion. “I assume seeing me naked for all of two seconds isn’t exactly what you two are concerned about either.”

Moon nods in both agreement and understanding, presumably answering for the both of them, as usual.

Sun reaches out once again, pinching the loose length of measuring tape between two fingers and lifting it off of the counter. “You know, I was willing to believe you when you started turning down your usual dinner, saying that you wanted to opt for something healthier.” He runs the tape between his fingers, straightening it as he speaks. “I was willing to write it off as your usual, run-of-the-mill lack of self care when you conveniently started “forgetting” meals entirely.” He begins slowly wrapping the tape around itself and you watch as his hands make quick work of re-rolling the tape into a neat little coil. “I was even willing to encourage you when you suddenly started wanting to exercise more. Though I had to admit, you seemed to be pushing yourself too far, too soon.”

He places the rolled tape back down on the counter, gaze suddenly meeting yours. “How long were you going to try and make fools of us?”

Okay… he’s taken this more personally than you thought he would.

“I—I wasn’t trying to “make a fool” out of either of you. Is that what you think this is? Some fun little game of mine?”

Moon jumps in before the conversation can grow heated. “That’s… not what he meant—”

“The hell it wasn’t—”

“Drop the act, Sun!”

Moon’s unexpected outburst catches both of you off guard, but his voice doesn’t waver, monitor swinging over to stare his other half down. “I know you’re worried about them and I know you don’t know how to show it, but shoving your head up your ass and acting like everything they do is some personal slight against you is not the answer.”

For once, Sun actually looks a bit shocked.

His screen flickers, cycling through a few different expressions before blacking out altogether. He’s quiet for a long few moments, monitor angling down toward the floor.

“…Then what am I supposed to do.” His defeated question comes out more like a statement, his head picking back up just enough for the image of you to enter his field of view. “How am I supposed to fix this? How do I reason with this nonsensical part of you that thinks there’s something wrong with your body?”

You search for an answer, a simple shrug followed by “It’s not that easy, Sun.” apparently not enough to satisfy him.

He keeps talking as he slowly approaches you, brushing past Moon’s outstretched arm as the lunar bot fights with his outdated instincts to keep Sun away from you. “There isn’t anything wrong with your body. Never has been. Never will be.”

You guess that his words are meant to sound comforting, but something isn’t right. His tone is off, the approach is all wrong, and he isn’t even technically correct.

“You know what there is something wrong with, though?”

You humor him. “What?”

He’s within arm’s reach of you now, and he reaches out to tap you on the forehead.

Moon’s hand darts in and clamps around Sun’s wrist, losing his internal fight.

Sun ignores him entirely.

“Your brain. There’s something wrong inside your head and it’s gonna fucking kill you if you keep listening to it.”

Moon attempts to interject. “Sun, that’s enough—”

“Tell me how I can help you.” Sun cuts Moon off like he’s not even there, focus locked entirely on you. “How? How? I can’t work on you the way you can work on us! I can’t lay you down, open you up, and pull out all the broken pieces. There’s no antivirus program to run. No broken bits of code that I can repair. I can’t fix you with my own two hands, and these mind games are not my forte.”

He lets his legs fold, collapsing to his knees before you. You wince at the sound of metal hitting tile. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. You know I will.” His voice grows desperate, “Please, please tell me that you know I will.”

You shake yourself out of the near trance you’d fallen into while watching him show you his own peculiar brand of honesty.

“Sun…” You reach for the hand that Moon isn’t holding back. “I do know that you would. I do. I just don’t know how else I can explain to you that this… isn’t something that can be fixed in such a way. Hardly anything on my laundry list of problems can be cured using your preferred methods. I… I’m sorry.”

Sun sinks the rest of the way to the floor, slumping against the sink’s cabinets. With his black screen and lifeless body, he’d seem dead if it weren’t for the voice still coming out of him. “…Moon?”

Sun’s better half answers him as Moon lowers himself to the ground beside him. “Yes…?”

“Could I bother you to talk some sense into the both of us?” Sun breathes out his request, and you’re only a little offended by his use of “us.”

In spite of it all, Moon laughs. A soft, gentle sound.

“I can try.”

That I would be fine even if I went bankrupt.

The door to your office swings open slow and quietly, and if it hadn’t been for your eyes picking up on the movement in your periphery, you’d’ve been none the wiser to Sun’s silent entry. You don’t even need to glance away from your monitor’s screen to confirm which of your boys it is, Sun’s habit of “forgetting” to knock is plenty of a giveaway.

“It’s been an hour.”

Your eyes close as you suck in a deep breath, releasing it with more force than necessary as you will yourself to remain civil about this. “Thanks for the reminder, Sun.”

Your dismissive thanks is far from enough to appease him.

“Which means… it’s time to take a break.”

You reopen your eyes, avoidantly locking your focus on the work spread across your screen. “And I’ve scarcely made any progress yet. I can’t afford to take a break right now.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and you almost dare to think that was a good enough counterpoint to convince him to leave you alone.

Almost.

He moves wordlessly from his imposing stance in the middle of the small room, and you watch him in the edge of your vision. He approaches the opposite side of your desk in measured steps before dropping down out of sight. There’s no sound or indication of movement for an uncomfortable few seconds too long. You’re about to angrily push away from your desk to look beneath it, mind quickly flooding with any number of nefarious things he could be doing. Namely, unplugging your PC again like the nuisance that he is.

As the palms of your hands press into the edge of your desk in preparation to push yourself away, your attention is caught by movement at the top of your monitor. You watch with impatient confusion as Sun’s rays peek above the top of your screen, the curve of his faceplate rising into view akin to the sun over the earth’s horizon. His motion halts when he’s risen halfway, and you’re rendered speechless in a mixture of annoyance, amusement, and shock as a pair of hyper-realistic human eyes stare back at you.

“Can you ‘afford’ to damage your eyesight?”

He’s replaced his display’s usual simplistic, circular approximation of eyes with an uncanny digital replica of what seems to be yours. You can hardly focus on the point he’s trying to make given the odd sight before you. “I—Sun, now really isn’t…”

He blinks at you, unwavering.

“Sun—quit lookin’ at me like that!”

He stifles a brief laugh. “Take a break from your screen and I will.”

You huff, shaking your head as you tear your gaze away from both screens in front of you, gaze pointedly darting around the room. “And look at what instead? You? What good’s it gonna do for me to look at your screen instead of this one?”

True to his word, once your eyes are off the screen, he rids himself of his disturbing new look. You glance at the motion as he rises fully from behind your desk, and take note of the way his monitor goes black instead of defaulting to his original face. He rounds the desk, hooking a finger through the handle of your long-empty mug and planting his ass on the corner where said mug just sat.

“Contrary to that thing, my monitor doesn’t need to be on in order for you to interact with me. No eye-strain or migraines required.”

You lean back in your chair, muttering as you turn to face him. “Just trading one kinda ‘strain’ for another if you ask me…”

He idly turns your mug over in his hands. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Your brows raise and you cock your head up to look at him. “That’s… mature of you.”

His optic's focus doesn’t move from the mug in his hands. “…One of us has to be.”

You sigh. “Sun, I appreciate your attempts to preserve my eye health, I do. But right now really isn't a good time…”

His monitor swivels on its axis, turning a near 180 to look at your monitor on the desk behind him. He surveys the day’s work: a messy assortment of various windows, tabs, and programs, recognizing that one client’s unreasonable list of requests among the disarray. From how long he spends staring at it, you begin to wonder if he’s got anything else to say at all.

“…You ever think about quitting?”

A surprised laugh escapes you. “Quitting? Uh—aha—I mean…” You give your answer a bit of thought. “…Of course I think about it. Especially when I’m stuck with a project like this one. Or, well… a client like this one. But that’s not… practical. I can’t just walk away from a job when things get hard.”

His monitor reverses the path it took to face the screen, swinging around slowly and pausing halfway through the motion to face you. “What’s stopping you?”

Another breathy laugh leaves you. “You mean aside from not wanting to feel like an even bigger failure than I already constantly do?”

He doesn’t respond, and you barely give him any time to. “Aside from that, y’know… when I said I can’t ‘afford’ to take a break right now, I meant it in the financial sense as much as any other.”

It’s not like losing out on the profit from one project would hurt your finances too much, at least not in comparison to how badly the failure to deliver would affect your reputation in your field. But quitting altogether? That’d be a different story.

“You… have money.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that in spite of his intelligence, some knowledge can only sink in when you experience it firsthand.

“Yeah, but I won’t continue to have it if I just up and abandon this job with nothing else to fall back on. I’ve got bills to pay, a house and car to upkeep. Mine and Zero’s food and water, you and Moon’s maintenance—these things aren't free.”

His monitor swivels away from you as he considers your words. “Well they should be.”

You bite back a smile at his indignant response. “You’re not wrong… and in a better world, they would be. But unless you guys have figured out how to universe-hop and just haven’t told me yet, we’re stuck in this one. And I’ll stick with this company as long as they’ll have me if it means we can keep living comfortably.”

He resumes his idle toying with your drinkware and the thought suddenly occurs to you that maybe you should look into gifting him a fidget toy of some sort. He and Moon both would likely benefit from one, though you suspect Sun will reject the notion and Moon will just end up with two. Not that they’d go unused regardless, the lunar busybody could likely work one in each hand and still find himself restless.

Perhaps you should look into something more involved, like… complex puzzles? Intricate crafts? Something to keep his hands busy, given his preference for physical tasks as opposed to Sun’s love of idle entertainment. For someone who hates so-called “mind games” the solar bot sure does spend a lot of time in his own head. Regardless, you ought to find something for Moon, because you don’t think your house can get much cleaner or more organized. Though, the solution to Sun’s penchant for micromanaging your behaviors will likely be more difficult than a simple fidget toy can solve…

As your mind gears up to run off with the ideas, Sun’s next abrupt question halts it in its tracks.

“Did you want to quit when you were working on us?”

You freeze for a moment as the vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard, but the truth comes out easy when you answer him. “No. …No, I never did.”

His head tilts just enough to angle halfway back toward you, and if he wore any expression at all you assume it’d be one of skepticism.

“I mean it, Sun. I mean— hell, talk to any of my colleagues and they’ll tell you how insufferable I was back then. How difficult it was to get me to focus on any other project. How hellbent I was on executing the vision. How… well, I guess you saw at least some of those fights there toward the end when things got kinda… tense. No one could even get me to entertain the idea of giving up on you.”

The finger he’d been tracing in endless circles along the rim of your mug comes to a standstill. “…Why?”

You spin your chair around a bit, swiveling further into his avoidant line of sight, tilting your head and attempting to catch his invisible gaze. “Because I wasn’t doing it for money. You two were a labor of nothing but love.”

In the silence that follows, you hear his cooling system kick up a notch, and that’s the only sound that fills the room for a long moment. 

But like all moments, it eventually passed.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulls your attention away from the flustered automaton on your desk, and toward his counterpart standing in the open doorway of your office. One look at the tray effortlessly balanced in one of his hands answers the question of his arrival before you can even ask it.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Sun unexpectedly answers before you can, and when your gaze flicks back over to him you’re surprised to find his default expression returned, and his demeanor completely shifted. “Nah, I was just reminding them of the importance of taking breaks to rest their eyes.”

He motions Moon over and the lunar bot accepts the invitation. “That is very important!” Soft-spoken and positive as ever, he presents you with a very reasonably proportioned and healthy spread of food. “You know what else is very important?”

You gaze up into his blue crescent eyes and he answers his own question on your behalf. “Lunch!”

Your grateful smile is involuntary as you reach out to lift a plate from the tray, turning toward Sun in a silent request for him to vacate the dedicated food-and-drink corner of your desk. He’s already moving before you even turn to him though, rising and striding to the middle of the room as you offer your gratitude to Moon and listen to him describe exactly what he’d made you.

You do your best to fight the long-memorized caloric numbers that rack up in your head as you take stock of what all he’s brought you.

“I’d offer to refill your water bottle, but it seems to still be quite full…” Moon’s commentary brings your attention back, and you sheepishly answer him.

“Yeah, I… finished the coffee first and… kinda forgot about that.”

He pets you gently on the head, calm as ever. “It’s alright, starlight, I understand.”

As you guiltily reach for the water bottle, Sun pipes up, excusing himself. “Well, now that you’ve been sufficiently distracted, I’ll be taking my leave—”

Moon cuts in, “Oh, don’t let me run you off, I just wanted to bring this in.”

Sun begins walking effortlessly backwards toward the doorway. “Oh, you’re not. I’ve got… my own plans. Starting with washing this mug.”

You can’t resist the urge to tease him, ‘talking to yourself’ plenty loud enough for him to hear on his way out. “Oh, thank fuck, he’s gone. Now I can get back to work!”

He halts in his tracks halfway through turning to face the exit. “You know, on second thought—”

You grin and wave. “Goodbye, Sun! Thanks for washing that for me!”

He shifts his weight onto one leg, idling in the doorway and thoughtfully dangling your mug from one hooked finger. “I mean, The American Academy of Ophthalmology actually recommends—”

“Good-bye, Mr. Sun.”

Moon chuckles at your deadpan dismissal and Sun huffs, turning and trudging away down the hall.

As you sip your water and begin to poke at the lunch with your fork, Moon walks around behind you and leans forward, surveying the work spread across your screen. “Do you mind if I take a look over this while you eat?”

You know it’s probably mostly an excuse to stay in here and make sure that you do eat, but you nod anyway. “Uh, sure! Have at it.”

The hunger hits you once you’ve had a taste of Moon’s cooking, and you muse aloud, mumbling around a mouthful of food. “Hell, maybe you’ll find some workaround that I can’t.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I’ll be back soon with part 3! You can also find my notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog’s pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Image Sources: x - x - x

[louisisalarrie]

Do you actually know something/seen something that makes you even more sure in your Larrie believes? Like where you are Larrie first and then got some “proves” from your job, or?

Understand if you can’t say anything 😊

Wow ok this accidentally turned into a welcome to the show. So, anon, without further ado, welcome to the show!

I’ve been a larrie since like… 2011. When we were “larry shippers” lol. So the confirmation and further info didn’t happen until I started in the industry. I always knew they were together but it’s interesting. People say they don’t believe they’re like… open about it to the industry but they kind of are. Not in a “I’ll prove it to you” overt way, but it’s just far more conservative in front of fans/the public eye. Plus… so much of this industry are contractors/suppliers who work with big names all the time. While yes, there are NDAs and contracts to assess and sign, a lot of crew just don’t give a fuck. They’re there to get paid and do their job and move onto the next one. Whether it be specific artist’s phone calls or in the cases they’re (larry) at each other’s shows… it just… doesn’t matter to the crew, a lot of the time. There will be a fan here and there who works a show, but you have to be so careful. Many folks in this industry know things and do have proof, but they hold onto it.

It is what it is, at the end of the day. A lot of these folks work with people like P!NK, Taylor Swift etc., like… some seriously high profile names. But there are also times where NDAs are enforced more specifically in specific regions or tours, in which the artist’s mgmt will ensure crew and staff and anyone external to the touring party sign a much more thorough contract, due to… particular “friends” being there/another higher personal matter risk. It’ll be far more specific, as opposed to a blanket basic contract. And the artist requests this if they feel they need to for their own personal comfort and freedom. SO whenever I see those, I know that there is someone on tour with that artist who shouldn’t be identified, or like… something very personal may happen. Which, yeah. If there’s more of a risk, there’s more contracts.

Now, not everyone has to sign these contracts, but if something leaks, like… a photo or an in depth story (less so for fans bc no one believes receipts, more so selling to the media with proof), said touring party often (depending on the artist/level of fame/level of risk) have a spreadsheet of every person there who’s external to that party with contact details, job titles etc. They know who to interrogate. So even if you don’t sign a specific NDA for that specific artist, they will find you if something drops.

Now, that’s important for multiple reasons - the main one being that some receipts can actually be real. Without photo proof, a lot of mgmt teams just don’t give a fuck, because particularly in the case of larry, we’ve been debunking/calling bullshit on folks for so long, that without proof, stories may get some attention but often just… disappear. Unless sold to the media with proof, it kind of…. Doesn’t matter to them. Plausible deniability, etc. ya know.

Say that 2 people saw something at one of Harry’s shows. Let’s role play it.

Person 1: *sends an anon to a popular larrie tumblr and a popular Larrie Twitter because they have to get it off their chest and they can’t hold back* “omg harry was talking on the phone to louis backstage at one of his shows!!! I know because I heard blah blah blah”

Person 2: *sends a voice recording/shitty video that catches his voice but no face as well as an anon to a popular larrie tumblr/twitter* “omg harry was talking on the phone to louis backstage at one of his shows!!! I know because I have proof but please either post carefully or not at all, you just need to know”

And listen… of course proof helps obviously. People are gonna believe person 2 over person 1 because it’s way easier to write a fake receipt than try and AI/fake a voice recording for anon clout. And also… that’s such a different thing since back in the day. Louis really be out here like “you never know what’s AI and what isn’t” because it’s fucking true. When we got photos/videos/shitty recordings or whatever back then, we sat down and pulled it apart so damn intensely that it’d be debunked, or at least considered somewhat proof/might be a thing. But now? Mgmt can just ignore that shit unless it’s very clear proof, because of AI and the lengths people will go to for internet clout nowadays. It’s just… yeah. It has to be very explicit for them to care.

I have no doubt we have had recent legit receipts, and yes, the majority are fake. But folks just don’t have as much to lose these days. It’s easy to not be traced if there’s no solid proof. So, people are getting away with more because more can be faked. It’s an interesting dynamic to a long running “conspiracy theory”, and provides mgmt with plausible deniability.

So, a lot of people know a lot of things. Some people don’t care, some people sit on solid proof because they’ve signed an NDA or will be found out 100% if they post it even on anon, and some people lie to get kicks. It’s just… So much more complicated than it used to be, which makes it easier for larry, and harder for us to prove things are real.

For example, louis may not require an extra NDA signed by all members of external parties because a certain “pal” won’t be with him on that tour. Anything else he does (trash a hotel room, or get really stoned for example), will be covered by a blanket NDA. Extra contracts come into it when there’s extra risk.

SO Harry may not have needed extra signatures/contracts for certain legs of his tour, but had them for other bits. In the case that a whole region may be a risk in terms of a pal joining him/where he is in his stunt contract, it’ll be a requirement to provide an extra NDA. it won’t be for particular shows because it’s too obvious, more so for a whole leg, and a US promoter isn’t gonna compare NDAs to a UK or AU promoter (even if they’re the same company) because like… why would you? A lot of worldwide promoters don’t actually have access to each other’s folders or content, either. Like… Live Nation US can’t see Live Nation UK’s stuff, because it’s not relevant. It’s regional and different sizes and too much data. Only very specific touring stats/fees would be shared. Same with AEG Presents, and so many other global promoter companies. So, yeah. Plus the personal promoters who tour Harry etc. through their companies, are the big dogs who’ve been doing this for 20+ years and have seen so much shit that they don’t care. They’re more worried about the money. It just… yeah. They’re not ones for delving into the interests of personal lives for artists, because they’re already working on 7 other big name tours. It’s… interesting. The blasé of it all, when you’re in this wild world. It’s so different to the fandom.

So yeah. It’s a topic that’s often debated, but without saying too much more, there’s a little squiz into what people know, and hold, and what mgmt care about and don’t care about. Larry are often together, but no one believes shit without solid proof. And the people who have solid proof, can’t/wont share it, 99% of the time.

I’m not saying believe every receipt, and I’m not saying everything is true, and I’m not saying everything is fake. I’m saying that some stuff is plausible and should be entertained because it very well could be true. But yeah… I hope this makes sense. Sorry for the chaos, and thanks for the chats. I know this isn’t exactly what you asked but yeah.

[n7punk]

“Somewhere Beautiful, We Can Finally Meet” Fic Notes

Okay the Somewhere Beautiful notes are short and sweet, but the tone of the fic didn’t really match shoving this stuff in the author’s notes as they came up, so here they are.

Playlist:

I made a playlist. There’s a whole fucking playlist, all thematic or even hauntingly fitting that I built up for months.

But it just ended up being The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn’t album on repeat for most of the fic. That’s what spurred me to finally pick this up and write the damn thing for real. I then used the actual playlist when editing. On that note, though, here’s the chapter title sources:

Sick Joke: Ch1-2, Ch4-8

earth eyes: Ch3, Ch10

Monster: Ch7

January: Ch9

Chapter 1:

⦁ Before I posted this fic I posted a snippet of what the abysmal outline doc for this thing looked like with parts censored. What it actually said was “Adora transitions when she picks up the sword And then also the dream connection thing” which was very funny to me because “the dream connection thing” was the entire point of the fic. But I write it like that because I already had the dream connection down back to front and the trans angle came along later.

⦁ The title of this fic is one of those things that just came to me, and I tried to change it to “Somewhere Beautiful, We Can Finally Dream” to indicate the, you know, dream thing, but I just couldn’t do it. That’s what it was meant to be.

⦁ Adora’s She-ra magic is what makes this possible, but also She-ra was inside her all along, right, so when Adora used to be able to dream of Catra rarely, those were real too (at least, usually. She does still have normal dreams too). The transition in the dream color (white > golden white > golden hour/twilight) represents the strength of her connection, both to her magic and to Catra, though the gold never could have happened while in the Fright Zone — she didn’t know gold or warmth as a positive color then.

⦁ When one of them dramatically vanishes, it’s because they just woke up suddenly. In the case of Adora’s speech, Catra woke up crying.

⦁ God writing this part was difficult. Threading the needle between anger, betrayal, and confusion without being transphobic was really hard even though that was far from what Catra was actually trying to do. Intent doesn’t really matter when the result is trying to shove someone back in the closet. There was initially supposed to be more of Catra exploring what this new Adora looked like but the idea also read as fetishistic to me so I cut it. I think I did the best I could here while being realistic to the actual characters.

⦁ I was worried saying “her best friend” all the time would feel a little awkward, but I also try to explicitly avoid deadnames when writing since I am extremely sensitive about mine personally so it’s just one of those things I don’t want to deal with even fictionally. Like, we all know what Adora’s dead name obviously is, but I’m still not doing it.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Catra not having her mask on and also having so much of her soft fur exposed is why Adora immediately had to pet her upon the dream forming.

⦁ The boob touch was a real impulse thought that Adora acted on without realizing because it was a dream and then immediately got embarrassed about even though “it wasn’t real”.

⦁ I could be wrong but I think every bed we see in the Horde is either on the floor directly or a bunk bed.

Chapter 3:

⦁ I’ve mentioned it before but “pre-ordering” is a phenomenon where people question their sexuality after being attracted to a “cis” person who doesn’t fall into their usual sexuality only for that person to later transition and make it all click. Sometimes we just know lol.

⦁ Yeah there’s a way more explicit version of this scene for sure, and the initial outline even called for it, but I didn’t really want to write it, not just because smut doesn’t interest me much, but also because of the weird dream situation.

Chapter 6:

⦁ The original outline actually had Adora getting Catra alone and flirting with her to unveil the truth and then, when Catra started to realize what was being affirmed, Adora kissing her, but yeah, that was NOT it or where Adora’s head was at when we reached this point, and we don’t need even more dubious consent in this thing. They were also supposed to have more ongoing interactions in the dream world post-reveal, but the timeline of the fic didn’t end up working out.

Chapter 7:

⦁ Every word from the start of this chapter forward I wrote in one day on September 14th. Because I am unwell.

Chapter 8:

⦁ Catra used claws on her palm to wake herself up.

⦁ I’m tired of keeping quiet. This isn’t the “dreams au”. In everything on my computer, it’s saved as the “DreamS AU”, if not its full title, the “dream sex au”.

Chapter 9:

⦁ Glimmer was realizing in the conversation with Catra what was going on back in that weird conversation about dreams with Adora in chapter 2. They were both too tired at that point for her to get mad at Adora for keeping it a secret. She definitely follows up on it after the war like GIRL. HELLO? But they are past the anger at that point.

Chapter 10:

⦁ Catra’s sexuality was a weird question mark to everyone when they were growing up because she sets off gaydar like caesium by a geiger counter, but like… she was also clearly obsessed with Adora. Not that it was clear to Adora, but she felt like a few moments came up where they almost kissed, and that confused her even more. So yes, Adora tried not to think of Catra that way too much because she thought she wouldn’t want her to, but neither of them ever could, really.

⦁ I’m not doing a real “Epilogue” section, so I’m just sticking it here: now they’re together IRL and like, actually talking, they “need” the dreams less and they become less frequent, but they’re still a fun thing and they mess around in them sometimes.

⦁ I was honestly really worried about writing/posting this fic because I thought people might take it the wrong way, either because of the consent stuff, or because of how I portrayed Adora’s transition/Catra’s sexuality. The way I convinced myself to write it was by telling myself I didn’t have to post it, so I could get it out of my head and see how it was at the end. I wrote the first two chapters under that idea all the way back in May and then set it down for Slipstream. I picked it up against at the start of September after I’d gotten through all of the Sapphic Septmeber prompts and just needed some editing for them. I wrote it all pretty quickly and was like yeah, I’m lying to myself, I am going to post it but I am nervous about it. I referred to it as a bomb in my fic drafts. At the same time, I knew that for certain people this would become their favorite fic, so fuck it, I just threw those warnings on it about the ambiguity and posted it.

Original Outline:

As I’ve mentioned on my tumblr in the tag where I scream about this fic, I wrote this entire fic in my head multiple times — always while falling asleep at night — without ever writing anything down, so the outline changed every time but the rough shape remained the same. However, the tone was usually (not always) lighter than how the fic ended up. I wrote half of the fic over two days (Chapter 5-6 one day and 7-10 the other) and afterwards I was looking at what I wrote like… do I need to rewrite this? But no, this doesn’t match the version in my head, but the version there can stay there and this one is what’s on the page. Big changes were just that the initial version didn’t include trans Adora, but the angst of her transition via She-ra and Catra taking it as brainwashing had too much opportunity to it for me to ignore. The other was that there was an alternate idea for the “season four” chapter where basically Catra’s lack of sleep leads her to getting sloppy and getting caught by the Rebellion, and the second She-ra takes over custody of her she just… gives up. Asks if she can sleep now. Adora can immediately tell what’s going on and says yes, and Catra passes out in her arms. Diverging so much, either by having Catra a prisoner or begrudgingly defecting to save her ass (and get help retrieving Entrapta, which was the idea) would have completely fucked the pacing of the fic, though, and especially screwed with my season 5 plans because even engineering a way for her to still get captured, Catra wouldn’t have been so sure Adora wouldn’t have come for her then. They needed to stay 100% enemies with no chance to talk things out lol. I still like the vulnerability of Catra, captured by the enemy, just trusting Adora (even if she feels it’s because she doesn’t have a choice) to keep her safe while she finally lets herself sleep because there’s nothing to outrun anymore, but I NEEDED to do that Prime dream scene.

Upcoming:

I have one or two short one-shots I’m working on that might come dripping out over the next month, but… I really want to do the fucking novel I’ve let languish for two years and it’s November, so even if Nanowrimo (the organization) sucks eggs, I going to try to do something for Novelember. It would even out these last two insane months of fic lol. So, I’m probably going on a little bit of a hiatus, still going to try to post every two weeks probably, but we’ll see where muses take me.

[gasolinerainbowreads]

I am trying to get better about organizing all the fic I read! (My drafts still sit at a hefty number lol.)

↓ ICON LEGEND ↓

🌈 = title 🪆 = series, multiple parts, etc. 🔋 = make sure your vibrator is charged before reading 😈 = Horny Demon Hours™ approved 🥹 = hurts so good/ouch, my feelings 🧠 = did somethin to my brain/altered my brain chemistry

Here's what I read in August along with a comment and/or a favorite excerpt:

@cavillscurls

🌈Pretty Prey 🔋😈-- Joel Miller x afab!reader "Tears spring to your waterline as he bruises into your cervix, the grunts and murmurs of that’s it, take it baby, can see the outline of my cock against your tummy all indication of his enjoyment."

@ezrasbirdie

🌈Catalyst 🪆🔋😈-- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales “Tastes damn good, doesn’t it?” Joel says, and Frankie lets out a quiet, desperate whine. “Good boy.” 🌈Some Part of Me Came Alive 🪆🔋😈🧠 -- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales Joel runs his fingers through Frankie’s hair when he pulls of off of him, cupping his cheeks and brushing his thumbs over his jaw. It's like that first kiss all over again--there's such profound relief Joel has to fight back tears. It doesn't matter that he's new to this--it's all so right because it's Frankie. 🌈Breakfast 🪆🥹 -- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales plzzzzz this is so fucking perfect and sweet and good and i wanna devour it

@netherfeildren

🌈Forfeiting My Mystique 🥹🧠 -- Ezra x F!Reader “It’s why I love art,” he continues. “You can be close to something, feel its warmth, beauty – whatever feeling it is the artist intended to pull out of you, from a distance. Untouched – it’s untouchable. That comforts me for some reason.” 🌈The Cassandra Complex, Ch 1 🪆🔋😈 -- Din Djarin x F!Reader “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. 🌈The Cassandra Complex, Ch 2 🪆 -- Din Djarin x F!Reader You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. 🌈Greener Memories of Better Men 🔋🥹-- Joel Miller x F!Reader This whole entire thing is heart-wrenching and amazing.

@swiftispunk

🌈Your Summer Dream, Day 4 - Sand 🪆🔋🥹-- JOEL MILLER X F!READER “Just ask nice, baby, I’ll give you whatever you need.” THIS MAN IS A MENACE. 🌈Your Summer Dream, Day 5 - New 🪆🔋🥹-- JOEL MILLER X F!READER "Suck," you instruct him, stronger now, more desperate as he draws pleasure from you with what's clearly practiced care. "Good girl," he hums lowly, like he's genuinely proud of your confidence, like he really does want this for you. WHEN'S IT GONNA BE MY TURN?! HUHHH???????

@strang3lov3

🌈Hibachi 🪆🔋😈-- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) This whole entire thing is *CHEF'S KISS* 🌈Are We Going To Talk About It? 🪆🥹-- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) This time, you will be loved like you deserve. & You are safe here with me.  🌈Come To Jesus Moment 🪆🧠 -- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) Every time she says sorry to Jesus I howl.

@thetriumphantpanda

🌈Come Away with Me, Monday 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller OH MY GOD i am obsessed with this whole dynamic. 🌈In The Woods Somewhere, Ch 1 🪆-- Joel Miller x F!Reader plzzzzzzzz she never missesssssssss jfc

@frannyzooey

🌈Short Days, Long Nights 12 🪆🥹🧠 -- Joel Miller x f!reader this shit just fucking CHANGES MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY every fucking time I read it

@joelscruff

🌈Needy Baby 🪆🔋😈😈😈😈😈😈🥹🧠🧠🧠🧠 -- boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader bro. MY GUY. MY SISTREN. this is ... this is the hottest smust ive ever read. idc. this whole story is amazing, and then THIS??? i can't even fucking think straight

@ezrasbirdie

🌈Surrender, Ch 10 🪆🔋🥹🧠 -- joel miller x ofc daisy She flushed read from her neck to her ears. "I don't know, exactly. I just don't want to embarrass you." Daisy had a habit of casually saying things that shattered his heart. Why did she think he'd be embarrassed? PLZZZZZZ. This fucking series KILLS ME. Daisy is my homegirl, and i will fight anybody who disagrees that she is SUPREME. 🌈Surrender, Ch 11 🪆🥹🧠 -- joel miller x ofc daisy All the fears she’d worked so hard to push away returned, magnified by the memory of Joel’s lips all over her skin. He’d held her and made love to her and kissed her all over and then he left her here alone. He said he needed her, too, and then he left her here. Alone. *screams like an injured pterodactyl*

@bageldaddy

🌈I Know It When I See It, Part 3 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader But growing up a girl meant getting used to the idea that sometimes sex was painful. You’re so used to men moving with violence, with contempt. In real life, so much of fucking felt like hate, it’s not exactly a surprise to find that sometimes the same thing is true in porn. 🌈I Know It When I See It, Part 4 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader the smut in this part is so hot you are guaranteed to feel your heartbeat in your pussy lmao

@chloeangelic

🌈Yes, Father IV 🪆🔋-- Priest!Joel Miller x Priest!Javier Peña x housewife!reader the way he takes her to their bedroom instead of the guest bedroom made me wanna punch a wall what a menace lmao love it 🌈Belong To Me, Chosen 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- Line cook Joel x waitress reader the breeding kink .... DO NOT READ WHILE OVULATION im being so for real when i say that

@softlyspector

🌈Decaf 🪆🥹🧠 -- tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader this whole entire series is so delicate and intricate. i am obvs a huge slut and love smut, but this story doesn't even need it. it's so, so good.

@breakfastatjoels

🌈A Bird in Your Teeth, Epilogue 🪆🥹-- joel miller x f!reader this was the perfect ending to an AMAZING story. plz read this if you haven't already!!!!

@walkintotheriveranddisappear

🌈And His Car Is a Piece of Shit 🪆🥹-- joel miller x fem reader the angst in this one is CHEF'S KISS 🌈Total Satisfaction, from the Comfort of Your Own Home 🪆🔋-- joel miller x afab reader a man that will dick you down with a possessive edge and then do handyman jobs around the house?? sign me the fuck up

@darkroastjoel

🌈A Safe Haven, Ch 8 🪆🥹 -- Joel Miller x Female Reader; Ellie Williams x Platonic Female Reader this is like my all-time fave comfort fic 100%. it's ongoing, but i have read each existing part several times lol

@tieronecrush

🌈Only Angel, Ch 1 🪆-- javier peña x f!reader the whole concept is so good, and i love all the detail! also, the part where she emailed him about a mistake in the syllabus had me fucking rolling. NERD.

@psychedelic-ink

🌈You Hate It That You Love Me 🪆🥹 -- stripper!jack daniels x f!reader this whole series was so angsty and delicious. definitely one you will re-read over and over. 🌈Menuet 🔋😈😈😈🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠 -- animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader im so fuckin mad at this story. this shit unlocked a new kink for me and fucked with my brain in the process.

@iamskyereads

🌈Compulsion Pt 5 - Initiation 🪆🔋😈🧠 -- EZRA (PROSPECT) X OFC BEATRICE I. AM. OBSESSSED. This fucking fic... I cannot BELIEVE I get to just come on this website and read shit of this caliber FOR FREE?!?!!?! insane

@party-hearses

🌈Relax, Baby 🪆🔋-- joel miller x f!reader if Joel called me princesa id be fucking DONE gone no thoughts 🌈Don't Be a Brat, Baby 🪆🔋-- joel miller x f!reader second part to the above story. such a fun read, and the dialogue is EVERYTHING so cute, sexy at times, playful. just so damn fun to read this!!!

@pascalsbby

🌈The Devil and His Brother, Pt 1 🪆🥹🧠 -- Joel x Tommy x Reader again. we get to read this shit. FOR FREE. my fucking mind cannot wrap itself around that fact. so many fucking talented writers in this fandom. thank you thank you thank you for sharing your brilliant, fun works! this story is a wonderful example of "ordinary people" knocking it out of the fucking PARK with their talent.

@cool-iguana

🌈Acting Out 🔋 😈😈😈-- Din x f! reader “Are you now? You forgot to count, though, cyar’ika. Good girls count. Let’s try again from one, no crying.” His tone dripped with condescension as he began again, practically reveling in each gasp and broken sob that spilled from your lips, taking pleasure in each time you stuttered on a number. this is so horny i love it

@mandoisapunk

🌈Ride, Cowgirl 🔋-- Joel Miller x reader i love the dynamics in their relationship and the comfort of switching it up!

@gracieispunk

🌈Bowling Night 🪆🔋-- Maintenance man!joel x f!reader listen, i am ride or die for reader. she's never done anything wrong in her entire life, and i stand by that lmao.

@toomanystoriessolittletime

🌈Revenge 🔋😈-- Dave York x fem. Reader CUCKING!!!! HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[lorimnnn]

Mine pt.3 (Michael Myers x AFAB!Reader)

summary: before Michael was ever ‘The Shape’ of Haddonfield, he was just a boy. he was a boy in love with the girl across the road, his sister’s best friend--- the only girl to show him kindness, love and warmth. you.

Basically, Michael falls in love with his sister’s best friend at 6, who sometimes played emergency babysitter especially when Judith was fooling around with her bf. He clings to those memories growing up in the asylum until the day he breaks out, where he decides the first thing he wants to do is find you and keep you, your sunshine only for him. Reader is super girly and feminine, which just fuels michael’s possessiveness.

cw: gore, violence, kidnapping, obsession, manhandling, possessiveness, non-con themes, not edited :((

welcome back  sowhatariyana  bigcreatorwombatdreamer  cherryxnessa  literalawkwardsimp  bitchyglitterfox  cavern-creature  herwitchbasement  mychemicalimagines  itsjust-menow  nerd-bookworm  fall-myriad  saccharinescalpel  puppiegutz666  pupperony 

pt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

~

It comes to you when you’re trying to sleep--- the memories.

The memories of Judith. It’s been so long, you don’t even remember what she looks like anymore, and the pictures of the two of you standing next to each other feel like no more than husks of who you used to be. Growing up--- and growing apart, especially--- did that to you. She was your best friend.

But she was becoming less and less worthy of that title the more she hung out with Danny and selfishly indulged in her own desires without a plan or second fuck to give. 

Not that Judith could tell.

You remember getting ready for a party. It was the last one you were going to before your vacation with your mother, and the last one you would ever go to in Haddonfield no less. You were at the vanity.

Judith was on your bed, lying down with her feet kicked up on a pillow. Shoes and everything. That last part made you grit your teeth, but you knew it didn’t matter whether you told her you didn’t like it or not.

You knew it was all because of Danny.

Once her puppy love for him died down, she’d come to her senses and remember how to function like a respectable human being, an older sister, and a better friend. 

You were giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“Ugh!” she groaned. She’d been going on and on for quite a while now, and you didn’t really know what she was talking about. All her complaints seemed to mash together into one, big blur of unpleasantries you couldn’t care less for. “I’m so annoyed.”

“Why?”

“I can’t believe Mom is making me babysit Michael for Halloween.”

You remember humming back at her as you swabbed some lip gloss over your bottom lip. Then you were adjusting your earrings, and eventually your dress--- shorter than usual, celebratory of one, last hurrah. You looked stunning. You turned in your mirror over and over again like some narcissistic egomaniac.

“I was supposed to go out with Danny for Halloween.”

“Mhm.”

“Mom knows this. Why does she keep planning things over my plans? I have a life, too. The world doesn’t revolve around her.”

You’d nodded sympathetically. Inwardly, you’d rolled your eyes.

“I’m so jealous of you, you know.”

That caught your attention. You looked at her hesitantly.

“Why?”

“You’re going on vacation.”

“You’ll miss me?”

Judith sighed exasperatedly. “Your babysitting skills, yeah.”

Ah. There it was.

You turned back to your vanity and checked your reflection one, more time.

“Let’s go, yeah?”

Judith jumped up. She was still moaning and groaning, but this time you ignored her as you drove to the party, cranking up the radio over her voice. You weren’t supposed to be driving, not really, but there was a special perk to looking like a senior when you were still a freshman, one that your parents didn’t care much to rectify as long as you returned their baby without a scratch.

 Judith began to shout at you. You’d ignored her still.

And then she grabbed your arm and yanked on it for your attention, causing you to swerve. You had lightning fast reflexes though, and too much self-respect to be too shocked at her actions. You still had lightning-fast reflexes. 

Your self-respect? Not so much.

You remembered your last words to Judith as you stomped on the break and turned into the side of the road. You waited for her to stop shouting, and then you looked at her, pointed to the sidewalk, and glared.

“Get out. Get Danny to drive you, or walk for all I care. You suck, Judith.”

And when she didn’t get out, still screeching nonsensically at you, you snapped. You got out yourself and dragged her out. Oh, yes. Kicking and screaming and everything. You shoved her so hard, she tore open her knee on a rock as she fell.

You didn’t turn back once.

You drove off.

That had been the last time you saw Judith. The last time you saw your best friend.

Somehow, you still failed to regret it, even to this day.

---

Michael didn’t come back the next day, but that wouldn’t been silly, anyway. The police were all around your house, maybe guarding it--- but you knew better. Your house was a trap. 

And you were the bait.

“I just don’t understand why he let you live,” one detective had muttered. “He never lets any of them live.”

You’d shrugged. You weren’t too emotional about it, but then again, you were still denying any of it ever happened.

Michael Myers is a serial killer, not a rapist. 

But that night, it had been crystal clear that he hadn’t meant to kill you. And he wasn’t going to, if he usually followed a pattern. This irregular, jarring disturbance was a new trail to follow into the unknown. It sparked fear in Haddonfield. 

None of them thought it could get any worse than this.

Well, neither did you. If it wasn’t already bad having your house flooded with cops and journalists, the top priority of every authority’s watchlist, a council-approved ban from leaving your house and the unspoken promise of another visit from a serial killer discovering his cock for the first time, then maybe the constant, bone-chilling feeling of being watched following you through every moment was enough to drive you insane.

Or maybe it was the man claiming to be Myers’ psychologist insisting to talk to you every day, even though you denied him each time. 

“Please, Miss L/N.”

“Please what, old man?” You mumble through the keyhole. “You’re going to have to beg prettier than that.”

You hear one of the cops stationed at your porch stifle his laughter behind a cough. You smirk.

“This is no time for games, Miss L/N.”

“And this is no time to be harassing me for the fifth time this week. I can literally get a restraining order; won’t that be fun?”

“Michael is a dangerous-”

“Blah blah blah. You’re forgetting that speech won’t work on me. I’ve already maxed out the danger, Mr Loomis. So kindly fuck off unless you can say something useful, like maybe: ‘Oh, Miss L/N! I have a coffee for you’ or maybe even ‘I know how to get the ban off you!’, or, my personal favourite: ‘I can promise Michael won’t fucking destroy your next one-night-stand!’“

Doctor Loomis goes quiet.

The cop chokes again, and you open the door that tiniest bit to grin at him in the face.

“You know, if I was sure I wouldn’t be putting you on a hit list, you’d probably be warming my bed right now.” You wink. You really hope you aren’t pushing it, but who knows--- he left before the two of you could discuss the rules of this demented little game. “You’re real cute, you know. And if your face is like that, I wonder what the rest of you’s like.”

The young cop is just a rookie. There isn’t any real suave to him yet, no kinky cop fantasies. Or maybe all of the kinky cop fantasies, if he was really that fresh off the boat. That’s hot. You like the one’s with no ego.

Usually that goes hand in hand with no experience, unfortunately. You’ve unintentionally established yourself as a cougar.

The cop’s entire face descends into a deep crimson, and it spreads down to his neck. His hands. You follow it down his uniform and back up.

Doctor Loomis clears his throat. “Miss L/N, please.”

You laugh. “That’s the spirit. Aren’t you a bit too old for this?”

Doctor Loomis sputters.

You laugh harder.

Then you close the door again. 

Outside the door, you hear the cop trying to hustle him away. But Loomis won’t be deterred, and you hear the thud of him throwing himself against the door for one, last time.

“I researched you, Miss L/N!” He yells, voice strained. “I know your history, and let me tell you now, any connection you think you may have with him is futile! He is insane! He is pure evil!”

You don’t answer.

You do, however, thrust your middle finger towards the door like he can see it, because you feel strangely unjustified on Michael’s behalf. Isn’t the whole ideal of being someone’s psychologist to tell people that they aren’t insane?

You don’t know much about Michael.

But if he’s been stuck with this big oaf all his life, then maybe he wasn’t a born monster.

Maybe he was created instead.

You kick the door where you imagine Loomis’ crotch would be as you hear him get dragged away.

---

Later that night, you wake to a thud at your porch. You instantly know it’s the cop. This time, you don’t even deny it. Maybe now he’s here to finish the job.

Maybe now he realised his mistake.

You sink further into the sheets and pull your blanket over your head the way you used to when you were a kid, scared of the dark. It’s ironic, really. How could someone shut their eyes, inviting themselves to pure darkness, yet be afraid of it in the world around them?

They’re the same thing.

Yet one is controlled--- and one is not. 

Darkness controlled...

You spare yourself a short moment to mourn that cop outside. He’d been so cute. So eager and dutiful, and also so distracted every time you stepped out just to check your mailbox. Didn’t matter whether you stepped out in a robe or something completely un-sexy. He was enamoured. That had been nice. 

It’s always nice to feel adored.

You hear the doorknob rattle, and you curl into a ball. 

He’s really fucking there.

You know you don’t have enough time to run and grab the phone. Maybe that would only provoke him. But would you really rather stay alive when you were doomed to his plot?

The detective didn’t know why you were still alive, and frankly, neither did you. Old babysitter or not, he had no reason to keep you around.

You didn’t understand it.

The door swung open.

The floorboards creaked beneath his weight, the sounds sharp and cutting against the silent, chilly air. It feels so tense.

You’re so scared.

You battle with your urges to save your skin. It’s all purely instinctual, all impulsive and illogical, but it doesn’t stop you from considering whether or not you still had time to run. Maybe crash through your bedroom window and pound down the doors of your neighbors until someone let you in.

But you know this town, even though it had been so, so long.

You know this town just like they know Michael, and because of that, they were never going to let you in. 

Your bedroom door finally opens. You hold your breath.

You can hear him, now--- his breathing shallow, labored, his footsteps wet and squelching against the floorboards. You hope it isn’t blood. 

But what else could it be?

Don’t cry.

Don’t run.

A large, meaty hand fists the blankets, tugging them away from you. Or trying. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in, and you’d already rejected flight. You wrestled with him to keep it over your head, but it was no use. He was too strong.

It’s almost supernatural, how strong he is. 

He rips the blanket away from you and you gasp, your nails burning. You scramble towards the corner of your bed as he watches you through the holes of his mask, those unseeing eyes, merely shadows cast over where his sight should be detailed, observing you too closely. 

He sees everything.

The heaviness of his breathing doubles, and you dig your burning fingers in to your mattress. 

The adrenaline snuffs out your fear, but not by much. You still tremble. You still manage to hold your chin up as you glare at him.

“Well?”

He’s silent, a solitary statue. 

You refuse to scream. You should, but you won’t. You know better than to try. 

“Don’t just fucking stand there like a creep,” you snap. “Do something. Play your part. Don’t be confusing; it doesn’t suit you.”

Almost on cue, he raises his knife above his head. Your force yourself to keep your eyes open, gritting your teeth against the fear.

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

It infuriates you more than it scares you, and on an enraged impulse, you snatch the pillow off your bed and launch it at him. It hits him square in the face. 

He doesn’t even the flinch.

It falls to the ground and you both look at it, pathetic. You even have the gall to be embarrassed about it. 

“Don’t just stare at it...”

His head snaps up. He looks at you.

Your hackles raise, and he advances, landing with one knee on the bed as he crawls towards you, one hand outstretches as it descends on your ankle. You screech and scramble back, falling. It doesn’t hurt. You squeal anyway, purely out of fear, and back away from him--- into your old vanity. 

Memories.

It hits you like a train, and the parralell is almost funny, if not entirely, terrifyingly ironic. You, at your vanity, touching up your makeup. Michael staring at you, starry-eyed and wondrous.

“You’re a princess,” he used to say when you’d teasingly ask him how you looked. He used to be so cute.

Now he’s a man, and he’s a serial killer, and he’s sitting in the same position he used to as a kid but he’s not a kid. He has a knife in his hand, one that’s wet with the blood of the cop outside, and it’s going to go into you, soon, if you’re not careful. 

Michael follows you on to the floor. You throw your hands over your head and he catches your wrists, and as he fits himself between your legs, it suddenly occurs to you what he’s trying to do.

No.

No no no-

NO-

You fight him, elbowing him in the cheek. It does nothing. He contiues to press his weight against you until there’s nowhere to go, until he’s so hard you can feel him stabbing into your core, demanding entrance through his mechanic’s overalls. 

This time, you scream.

But it’s just as you expected. He bends his arm, your wrist still in his hand, and muffles the noise against his forearm. You bit him, you try anything.

But he’s relentless.

You’re better off subjecting yourself to his torment. 

Terrified, you shut your eyes. You fall limp, hoping that your compliance will end this quicker, that your obedience might persuade him to hurt you less--- but he doesn’t hurt you at all. 

He lays down between your legs, head on your chest, and shoves your hands into his hair.

You have no idea what he’s trying to do and don’t really care... That is, until you feel the tip of his knife poking you between the ribs. You rack your brain and think.

Think. 

And then you remember.

The two of you, curled up on your couch, watching TV, just like this. And despite yourself, you laugh. You laugh hard.

“You hunt me down for this?”

Michael doesn’t answer.

“You’re so fucking weird,” you sigh. “I don’t get you.”

You suppose this is better than whatever you thought he was going to do with you in the beginning. A lot better. Even if it makes no sense. But if it saves your skin, you’ll do anything.

You’ll even graze your nails at his scalp the way you used to .

Something of a purr vibrates in his chest. 

You relax, if only slightly. 

But you don’t fall asleep, even when he does. A sleeping beast, content in your arms, almost peaceful, almost tamed. 

But the knife, still fisted in his grip like a comfort-toy, stays there to scare you. 

But something tells you he won’t use it.

So long as you obey.

---

Michael is celebrating.

Finally.

Fucking finally. 

He has you.

But the next step is to keep you--- and make sure that you know one thing.

You’re his.

Mine.

And you’re coming with him to his childhood home, where he’ll keep you forever, just him and you... You want him, don’t you?

You want him now.

You wanted him then.

Maybe not as much as he wants you, twice as much now than he did as a child, but that’s easily rectified. You’ll learn.

You’re already learning now. 

~

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