#like was there really that much wrong that it wouldn’t have worked

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ CARMEN kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids ⭢ girl, so confusing ⭢ consume (bonus) ⭢ take your mask off

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, more sakura and yn focus on this chapter, angst, flashbacks, guilt, a lot of confusion, over working, mentions of fainting, mentions of not eating, arguments, guilt, alcohol

it had been exactly a week since the girls stayed at the moons' humble home, and things had taken a strange turn, really strange.

yn returned to the dorms a couple of days later, though this time, she didn’t have much of a choice. their comeback preparations were in full swing, and her absence wasn’t an option.

but ever since their visit to yn’s family home, something felt… off. it wasn’t anything anyone could point out directly, but the shift in the air was undeniable. with everyone back together, practicing and prepping for the comeback, the strange energy became even more apparent.

yet, no one mentioned it. it was as though everyone had silently agreed to ignore the unsettling vibe that lingered between them, as if pretending it didn’t exist might make it go away.

no one noticed.

except sakura.

the first thing sakura noticed was how frazzled chaewon seemed after leaving the moon house. she had gone back to grab her phone and returned looking visibly shaken. when sakura asked what was wrong, chaewon brushed it off with a shake of her head.

the next thing she noticed was yunjin. normally the one to eagerly join in on chaewon’s rants about yn, yunjin had suddenly become... quieter. she didn’t even want to hear it anymore, shutting down conversations with comments like, "let’s just focus on this," or, "it’s really not that serious." it was strange, yunjin had always been vocal when it came to their shared thoughts about yn.

well, all of them except for kazuha, sakura thought.

but now, it seemed like yunjin was distancing herself from anything related to yn, actively changing the subject whenever her name came up. sakura couldn’t fathom what could have caused the sudden shift. what happened at the moon house that had made yunjin so... different?

sakura didn’t know where she found the courage, but she finally asked yunjin what was going on with her. the younger girl’s response was short and cryptic, “we’re a group, we should act like it.”

whatever that means.

you see, sakura had worked incredibly hard to get to where she was now, and she continued to push herself every single day. that was her problem with yn.

yn was the embodiment of having it easy. the brand deals, the fans, the love, it all seemed to fall into her lap without much effort. sometimes, it looked like she didn’t even have to try. she just had it, effortlessly shining in a way that made it hard to look away.

sakura liked to call her teruhashi. whenever yn asked what she meant by that, sakura would just laugh it off, shaking her head like it was some inside joke yn wouldn’t understand.

so yeah, sakura felt like she had every right to feel the way she did about yn. everyone in the group had put in years of hard work to get here, sacrificing everything to make it. and then came her—this rich girl whose dad conveniently got shares in the company, who was plopped into the group last minute before debut, only to become the most popular member overnight.

it wasn’t fair.

the room was filled with heavy breaths, the squeak of sneakers against the floor, and the steady rhythm of the music.

"one, two, three, four, all the girls are—"

"sakura, straighten your arms. make sure your lines are clean," the choreographer called out, scanning the group. "actually, all of you— wait, yn, come here."

they gestured for yn to step forward before turning back to the others. "this. this is exactly how you should be doing it."

"can you demonstrate?" the choreographer asked, turning to yn.

all eyes were on her now.

she stood there, unfazed, wearing bedazzled sunglasses so dark it was a mystery if she could even see. paired with baggy pink sweatpants, a top that barely passed as a shirt, more like a bikini top and, of all things, a pair of low moon boots.

what the hell is she wearing? chaewon had muttered under her breath when they left the dorm that morning and how does someone where that and still look good yn did, gosh she was a mess, a mess who was still the best in the room.

she unpaused the music, and immediately, yn started moving.

yn was versatile. no matter what concept was thrown at them, she adapted effortlessly, slipping into each one like it was made for her. sakura wasn’t going to lie, she had to mentally prepare every time they switched concepts, had to push herself to embody something new.

so watching yn do it so easily… it always made her feel a certain way.

like now.

the choreographer clapped after yn finished the part she instructed her to do, “that’s exactly how I want you guys to do it, keep your eyes on yn for now on.”

sakura kept her eyes on yn the whole time, noticing how the girl didn’t seem all that pleased with the choreographer’s praise.

why was that? if it were her, she’d be basking in it.

“yn you can go back, let’s start from the top.”

the rest of practice was a disaster, not in terms of their dancing, but the energy in the room. it didn’t feel like teamwork. it felt like competition.

sakura didn’t just want to match yn’s movements. she wanted to surpass them, but she couldn’t and that was the problem.

sighs of relief filled the room as the girls took sips of water, exhaustion settling in while they packed up their things.

sakura slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave, when she noticed something, yn was the only one who hadn’t packed up yet.

she stood alone in the corner, quietly sipping water from the dispenser, as if in no rush to leave.

sakura wasn’t the only one who noticed.

she watched as kazuha’s gaze landed on yn, her brows furrowing as she said something to her. whatever it was, sakura couldn’t make it out over the chatter of the other girls.

her curiosity only grew when kazuha suddenly shook her head, turning away from yn and heading back toward the group.

"let’s go," she muttered, not looking back.

"wait, wait, what’s up with yn?" sakura asked as the rest of the girls filed out of the room.

kazuha let out an annoyed sigh. "she’s staying to practice more. said she’ll be home in an hour, but knowing her, that probably means tomorrow."

"hasn’t she done enough?" sakura scoffed. "she already embarrassed us today. does she even realize we’re supposed to be on the same level?"

if yn wanted to be that good, maybe she should’ve just been a soloist.

kazuha opened her mouth to respond, but she just let out a sigh and shook her head.

most nights, sakura was the first to head to bed or at least the first to retreat to her room.

but not tonight.

it was nearly 1 a.m., and instead of sleeping, she sat on the couch, mindlessly watching netflix, barely paying attention to the time.

she flinched at the sound of the front door creaking open, instinctively pulling her blanket tighter around herself.

she had just finished a horror movie and was already onto the next so this was definitely not an ideal situation.

sloppy foot steps was heard making her furrow her eyebrows until it hit her, yn.

yn came into view, the sunglasses she had worn earlier now gone, revealing tired, red rimmed eyes. an oversized sweater hung loosely over her frame, swallowing her up.

she stumbled slightly as she walked through the entryway, one hand reaching out to the wall for support.

"yn?" sakura called out, her voice laced with confusion.

yn looked up at her, her eyes barely open. when she saw sakura, they widened in surprise. "um..." she mumbled, unsure of how to respond.

��I thought you came back hours ago, were you still practicing?” sakura questioned, yn’s whole body language setting alarms in her head, “how did you even get back?”

“it was one of my family’s drivers. It doesn’t matter what time, it's their job." yn mumbled, her words barely audible as she completely avoided sakura’s eyes.

"that sounds pretty privileged," sakura scoffed, her tone sharp with disbelief.

"it was either that, or I would’ve passed out with no one around to help." yn snapped back, her words laced with frustration.

"huh?" sakura muttered, finally noticing the hospital bracelet wrapped around yn’s wrist. "yn... were you just at the hospital?"

"what does it look like?" the younger girl shot back, heading toward the kitchen without a second glance.

sakura followed her without hesitation. “what? how? why?”

yn opened the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle. “you know, the usual, undereating, overworking.”

“the usual?” sakura echoed, disbelief creeping into her voice.

yn let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the counter. “why do you even care?”

"because one of my members was just in the hospital, didn’t contact any of us, and then just casually calls it the usual?"sakura shot back, her frustration clear, “why would I not care?”

"because it is the usual. not my fault you haven’t noticed," yn shot back, her voice tinged with irritation. "and why would you not care? because you haven’t before, sue me."

sakura let out a frustrated sigh. "yn... this is different. this is important. this is your health."

yn shook her head, taking another sip from her water bottle. "it really isn’t different. with all the stuff you say about me, all the things you probably think about me, why on earth would you care about this?"

“yn-”

"well, since you’ve gotten me started, I guess I should finish, right?" yn cut her off, taking another sip of water, her movements sluggish like someone trying to sober up. "you know, you were probably the one who hurt me the most." after chaewon of course but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.

sakura furrowed her brow, confusion flooding her expression as yn continued. "I mean, you’re the older, motherly one who takes care of everyone... but you never even batted an eye at me. so, sorry for being freaked out right now by you suddenly caring."

the words hit sakura like a punch to the gut. she felt a sharp pang in her chest, she didn’t know how to respond.

"and when I found out you and chaewon were former idols, I thought, great, I have someone older who can guide me through this crazy industry," yn rambled, her voice thick with frustration. "but I guess I’m just too rich and perfect for that. instead, I had you laughing along with everyone else while old men belittled me."

sakura opened her mouth, but no words came out. it felt like everything yn said was just pouring out, and she was left speechless.

yn leaned further against the counter, taking another sip of water, and sakura couldn't shake the thought, was that even water?

"maybe it’s just me being dumb and craving that mother figure but it was such a shock for me," yn continued, "because when I was at sm, the girls I was with took care of me so well. you know aespa, right? you probably know I was supposed to debut with them?"

sakura nodded, her mind numb, her stomach sinking. guilt consumed her, she felt sick.

“yn-”

"did you also know I was forced out of the lineup because of my father?" yn’s words were laced with venom, and sakura flinched, the sharpness stinging her more than she expected. "I don’t want to be in this group as much as you don’t want me here."

"yn-"

"I have a question for you, unnie," yn said, dragging out "unnie" with a mocking tone. "do you hate me, or is it your insecurities getting the best of you?"

sakura was speechless. yn was right. yn was rich, pleasant, and constantly praised, yet that was just the surface, what sakura had seen from the outside. she didn’t know the full story, but the proof was standing right in front of her.

sakura wanted to be her in some ways, and that desire had only gotten in the way of building a connection with her.

"yn… I-"

"what’s going on?" chaewon’s voice broke through the tension, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she stepped into the kitchen. "I heard noise—what the hell, did you just get here?" her words were aimed at yn, who just shook her head, walking past chaewon and down the hall.

sakura’s gaze lingered down the hall where yn had disappeared, her chest heavy. chaewon’s questioning tone snapped her back to the moment. "what happened?"

a lump grew in sakura’s throat as she struggled to find the words. "um, nothing. just go back to bed."

she finally understood yunjin.

[glambots]

BUBBLE, BUBBLE, MOON'S IN TROUBLE

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 5k

A commission for @semidemi-minigod !! In which you give Moon a bath. But from Moon's POV.

It was difficult to say when it all started.

When he’d allowed himself to become so complacent. So vulnerable.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. But you made it easier. Somehow.

Even now, when all he wanted was to slink away into the dark, far away from your pleading eyes and pursed lips.

“Come on, Moon. Please? You can look at it all if you want to. I won’t stop you. It’s really good stuff. Like, expensive stuff.”

You moved around the cleaning cart, picking up and brandishing several different items in his direction, with all the nervous excitement of a salesman trying to land a deal.

His eyes moved over each object laid out, atop the cart’s surface. Towels, fluffy and white. Bottles of cleaning solutions. Metal polish. Different kinds of scrub brushes. A few toothbrushes…?

He didn’t recognize any of the brands, which meant that they came from outside the Pizzaplex.

“…You bought these?” Cautiously, he picked up one of the little canisters and held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning the balm canister round-and-round like it was an oversized coin.

Polish cream. The fancy aluminum tin flashed under the dim lights, like the spark of a distant star.

“Yeah, I got them all from a hardware place that was nearby.” You smiled, hands roving over the assortment to grasp one of the smaller hand towels. His head tilted a bit when you held it out to him, a lopsided smile gracing your flushed cheeks.

“Feel these! I swear, I have never felt towels as soft as these.”

Curiosity burning, Moon placed the polish back down and reached for the towel. He fingered the soft, fluffy fabric in a bit of awe. It was much nicer than the old, tattered rags they had stashed away in the Daycare. Cleaner, too.

“They’re Egyptian cotton.” Your grin grew wider. “I got you a couple of sets, so you can keep some in storage for when they each get worn out.”

“…Keep?”

“Well…yeah! I mean, they’re yours now.” You gestured at the whole of the collection. “All of this is. I mean, I can keep it if you don’t have any room. But this is all for you. You and Sun, I mean. Obviously.”

He looked back and forth between you and the cleaning cart, utterly bewildered.

And, more than that, suspicious.

“Why?”

He watched your expression twist into bemusement, before you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes.

“Because I can.”

“What if we…don’t want it?” He couldn’t stop the hint of amusement that crept into his voice. Even if there was a little bit of truth to it. It felt…wrong to accept this.

You just pursed your lips, brows raising so high they nearly touched your hairline.

“Well, that’s too bad. Cause I already bought it, and the store won’t let me return it. Which means either you take it, or I’ll just throw it all away.”

He grunted, looking back over the collection.

“Liar-liar, pants on fire.”

“Nope!” You popped the “p,” giving him a little half-shrug. “I’ve got the receipt, and it says no refunds allowed. You wanna see it? I’ll show it to you.”

Moon grunted again, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his chin and cheek.

To take it…or not…

It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

But! But. He had one more question to ask you.

“Why me? Why not Sun?”

He can’t help but spit the name with a bit of venom. Out of the two of them, wouldn’t Sun be the easier target? Easier to work with. Easier to talk to. A better fit.

Better…in every way.

The look you give him is hard to place. It’s not hurt, not pity…a little frustrated.

A little sad.

“Do you not…trust me?”

There it is again: that feeling of wanting to hide away. A little tickle of guilt burning through his wires and sliding between his gears. He didn’t like it when you looked at him like that.

“No.”

“No, you don’t trust me? Or no, you don’t not trust me?”

“…No.”

You sighed, pulling off the bear-eared cap on your head to run a hand through your already messy hair.

“Alright. Alright…I won’t force you to do it. I just…” You looked down at the cart, eyes misty and lip quivering a bit. Like you were trying not to cry. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

And like that, he feels something in him melt.

“Fine.” He folded his arms over his chest, as if they’d serve as any sort of defense. He hates the way his whole-body tickles with heat when the sadness on your face melts away into relief.

Because it’s unfamiliar. Different.

He knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is something that he’s not supposed to be able to feel.

And yet, you make him feel it.

And that frightens him.

“Make it fast.”

Guilt is there again, gnawing at his insides when you reach up to quickly wipe the rim of your eyes clear, a breathy laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside you. Just like that, you’re so happy.

“Alright! Okay. Okay. Um, I’ll start with the—I mean, what do you want me to start with? I’ve got all this stuff, and I didn’t even think about it. God, where do I start?”

Moon watches you flit around the cart, hands moving over each object in a frenzy. You finally look up after a moment, going still.

“Sorry. Just. Give me a second, I swear I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes move to the floor, like you’re searching for something. “Do you want to sit down?”

Silently, Moon reached behind him, grasping one of the small child-sized chairs, and pulled it out to sit on without breaking eye contact.

“Okay.” You chuckled, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaning solution in the other. He could feel the hesitancy in your movements as you approached, like you were afraid he’d bolt at any second. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

For a moment, you hesitated, as if trying to decide where and how to get started. Moon simply sat still, watching your hands and eyes shift from his face to his arms, to his chest, then back up.

“Hang on, I can’t do this kneeling—my back hurts too much for that.”

You grabbed an undersized chair and pulled it up across from him, gently taking one of his arms and spraying a light amount of the solution across it. Moon couldn’t detect any chemicals, but it did smell slightly…fresh?

“This is just water and soap,” you explained, gently running the rag across his forearm, rubbing it between his fingers and over his palm. “To get rid of the surface stains. After that, I’ll use the stronger stuff.”

For a moment, there was a silence that stretched between the two of you. He wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or not but was more than satisfied to simply watch your tiny hands work their way up and down his arm.

You swapped to the other arm, wiping it down gently from hand-to-shoulder, then paused.

“Do you want me to do your chest or back first?”

Your voice was soft, gentle and coaxing.

Moon looked down at his arms, flexing his fingers as he thought for a moment.

“…Back.”

“Alright.”

Carefully, you placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, running the washcloth over his broad back. Moon twitched, an odd tingle rushing through his wires at the sensation of your palm rubbing little circles around the spot where the hook to his line protruded. He tried to ignore it, but you stopped again, having noticed.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?”

“No.” He scrambled for an excuse. “…It tickles.”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny smile cross over your face. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“We’re not,” he replied, maybe a little too fast. “Just…sensitive.”

“Sure.” The tone in your voice betrayed that maybe you didn’t entirely believe him, but you didn’t push the issue. He was thankful for that.

The thought of your little hands coasting along his metal body, trying to find vulnerable spots to attack and manipulate—it made his head spin. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Things were quiet again, as you slid the rag over the thin pieces of metal that made up his hinged neck. Anxiety raced through his system as your hand moved dangerously close to the back of his face-plate—where the switch sat.

One wrong move (or maybe, one purposeful move) and he’d be forced into Rest Mode.

“Careful—” Before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, snatching your thin wrist. “Not there.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” You quickly jerked back, panic flashing in your eyes. “D-Did I hurt you?”

He searched your face for any sign of wrongdoing. Something to latch onto.

He found nothing.

“…No.” Moon finally said after a moment, letting your wrist go. He felt a little bad as he watched you rub it, knowing that he’d probably held on a little too hard. “Just…not there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You scooted around the edge of the chair, rag hovering just below the edge of his neck ruffles. “I’ll start on your chest now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything but leaned his head back to give you more room. That, and to keep from having to watch you run the cloth over the expanse of his chassis. Just the feeling of it was enough to have him balling his hands tight into fists at his sides.

There was so much intimacy in the action, as simple an action it was. Your face was so close, eyes squinted as you scrubbed at the stains splattered across his metal body. Sticky hands, paint, glue, dirt, grime—there was no telling what made up the mass of it all. But the feeling of it being wiped away was a very pleasant one.

He felt lighter, almost. Like the weight of the stains were being peeled off him.

You were extremely gentle when your hands moved down to his waist, one holding him slightly in place, the other moving the cloth down his sides and across his stomach.

Moon squirmed again. If he’d had a stomach, it would have been fluttering. Full of butterflies.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You breathed softly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“It’s fine.” He lied.

A few more moments later, you finally leaned back, and Moon felt like he could breathe again. Not that he’d ever needed to in the first place. But whatever pressure had been hanging over his head was finally lifted away, if only momentarily.

You pulled out another bottle, gently drenching a small scrub brush across its surface with the oddly colored liquid. It smelled very strongly of disinfectant, and he flinched a little.

“This is the strong stuff.” You explained, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’ll get rid of the tougher stains—you don’t have a lot of them, so this part should be quick. I’ll try not to go too hard with it.”

“Do what you need to. We won’t run.”

This part of the cleaning process wasn’t quite as pleasant as the rag and soap. But you had been true to your word—your touch was gentle. Maybe too gentle.

“Harder.” He urged, after a while of watching you scrub at his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

You blew a few stray hairs out of your face. “I don’t know how you got this dirty. When was your last bath?”

He…couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t say anything at all.

You paused to glance up at him, but after it was apparent that you weren’t going to get a response, you turned back to scrubbing.

The bristles of the brush felt…strange, against his metal skin. Not painful. Just uncomfortable. It made him want to push your hand away, but he stopped short of doing so. You were just trying to help, and it wouldn’t do either of you good for him to make this difficult.

So, like a child sitting through a well-needed (but unwanted) haircut, he forced himself to simply sit there, squirming every so often.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you.” You finally said, your voice cutting through the silence. “I wish I could do something about the stains on your pants, but you probably wouldn’t want me to, uh…”

Your hands moved through the air, making vague gestures, before you just gave up and offered him a little half-shrug. “Mess with those.”

Moon had to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, you paused, blinking rapidly. “What? Oh, uh—I was just joking!”

A spark of mischief fluttered in his chest. Your cheeks were flushing, the rosy color reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t look at him suddenly, and his internals picked up a rapid jump in heart rate.

“Nervous?” A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he clicked his invisible tongue, wagging a finger in your face. “Naughty thing.”

The color on your face deepened to a shade that rivaled the ruby glow of his eyes.

“No! I mean—that’s not what I meant. Just—I just—” Your lips set in a thin line, breath coming quick and heavy.

“Want me to take them off?”

“What?”

He giggled again, quite enjoying the way your voice cracked.

“My…” His hands hovered for a moment, just above the hem of his pants. Then, he flipped them upwards, as if offering you his wrists. “Ribbons.”

Your face was so red that he wondered if you could even breathe properly. Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. Seeing you all flustered made that bouncy, electric feeling inside him tingle and spark.

For a moment, you just glared at him, shaking the scrub brush like you were considering smacking him with it. Then, you sucked in a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and slowly let it out again, lowering your would-be weapon.

“I hate you.”

He snickered again, reaching out a single finger to gently tap the tip of your nose. “Liar.”

You love me.

The words were caught in his nonexistent throat. He could say it, to push your buttons even further, but something held him back. Hesitation.

He wasn’t…quite ready to push it that far, yet.

You sighed dramatically, placing the scrub brush aside, only to reach for one of the toothbrushes he’d seen earlier.

“Are we playing dentist?”

“You’re half right.” Amusement sparkled in your eyes. “This is for, like, getting into the tiny places. The seams between your fingers and stuff. I’ll be using it on your face, too, so…”

“You came prepared.”

You grinned. “I told you I did.”

“All this for little old me?” He struck a bashful pose.

“Yes, you absolute goober. Now hold still…”

The feeling of the toothbrush sliding into his seams was much more pleasant than the scrub-brush. It still tickled, enough to make him twitch now and then, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

You were so gentle with the motions, making sure to get every nook and cranny that you could work the bristles into. Moon was a little shocked to see just how much grime the brush was picking up, but then again—it had been a very long time since they’d gotten any sort of attention in the “appearances” department.

Every time you swapped to a new area, you dip the brush into a small container of cleaner, swirling it around and wiping away the dirt from the surface of the bristles. But even with such meticulous attention to detail, it didn’t take long for it to become too dirty to keep using.

You ran through at least three brushes before you stopped to take a break.

“Seriously, how the hell did you guys get so dirty?”

Moon could only shrug. There were several components that contributed to their current state, but the biggest offender was plain out negligence.

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing a thermos from behind the stack of bottles and tipping it back. His eyes followed the movement of your throat every time you swallowed—a strange voyeuristic feeling.

A rivulet of water dripped from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin, then your throat, then over the dip of your clavicle and down beneath the collar of your shirt…he tore his gaze away. Focused on flexing his hands in his lap, then folded them together and squeezed, one foot tap-tap-tapping away, anxiously.

“Phew! God, I’m sweating like crazy. Is it okay if I take this off?” You fingered the neckline of your shirt with one hand, using the other to fan yourself with your hat.

He really wanted to say no. Because that would make him feel weirder.

But he couldn’t, when you looked at him like that. So earnest and innocent.

Moon nodded silently, looking away once more when you reached for the buttons. It felt…wrong, to watch you undo them. The sound of fabric rustling had his foot tapping just a bit faster.

“Okay! I’m good now.” You stretched your arms up above your head with a little moan. “God, that’s so much better.”

Moon found it hard to look at you directly, now that you were sitting there in a tank top. It wasn’t anything salacious, it was just. So intimate. There was so much more visible skin now, and his eyes kept moving over the muscles in your arms, across the curve of your abdomen…

The shape of your body was so much clearer now, and that made him feel…almost shy.

 “Alright, last up is your face. I’m gonna have to get a little bit closer—is that okay?”

That was not okay. His system was on high alert.

But what was he supposed to say? You’d already gone this far, he couldn’t just say no. Despite really, really wanting to.

For a moment he felt the gears in his head grinding, a substitution for the teeth and jaw he lacked. The tension in his body felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, seconds away from snapping. It got worse when he forced himself to nod, only able to muster up a little grunt of affirmation.

“Alright. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did.

This was just. Too close.

You slid off the children’s chair, half-kneeling with one of your legs on the ground, a knee between his legs to balance yourself.

Too close. It was too close.

You reached up, rag in hand. Your fingers gently cupped the side of his face, feather-light touch sending sparks through his body.

Too. Close.

He felt his whole body go stiff as you pressed the soapy rag to his cheek.

Carefully, you moved it up to his forehead, then down to his chin. Warmth trailed down the metal of his face, burning in the wake of your touch. So hot that he almost couldn’t stand it.

Your eyes moved over his face as you swapped sides, smoothing down the crescent curve of his nose so delicately that it tickled. If he’d had the ability to sneeze, he probably would have.

“Sorry.” Your teeth dug lightly into your lower lip. “I know this is a lot. You’re doing a great job, Moonie.”

That did not help his situation at all.

Your praise struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he clenched his fists so tightly in his lap that he felt his metal knuckles pop.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you. I really, really care about you.” You paused to suck in a little breath. “I mean that.”

He could barely hear what you were saying. It was like static was buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the moment. All he could do was focus on the shape of your lips as they formed around each word.

“I…” The words refused to come out, caught in his nonexistent throat.

“It’s alright.” You laughed a little, placing the rag aside and reaching for the final toothbrush. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m almost done.”

That wasn’t it.

You were just so close. The warmth of your body, your smell, the shape of you…it was suffocating him. If he leaned in, just a little bit more, he’d be able to wrap his arms around you, to feel the softness of your skin against his—

The abrupt tickle of the toothbrush rubbing against the seam in his faceplate made him jerk back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You scoot forward, the hand on his cheek holding him in place a bit more firmly. “I’m almost done.”

Your body heat is suddenly all around him, then. You’re leaning up in his lap, both knees on the chair, straddling his leg. He can catch the scent of shampoo on your hair, scented lotion on your skin. He could count every lash framing your eyes. Feel the heat of your breath on his teeth—

His hands hover in the air, fingers twitching sporadically, just inches away from gripping you by the waist.

He wants to tell you to back up. But his invisible tongue is tied in knots.

He can’t stop looking at your face. Staring at you, as you maneuver the brush into the little dots lining his crescent-sloped nose.

“You have the cutest freckles.” You say, your lips turning up at the corners.

His body makes a strange noise. A low, grinding metallic sound that could be as much a growl as it could a whine.

That’s all the warning you get before he leans in, gripping you tight by the shoulders, and all but mashes his face against yours in a pathetic facsimile of a kiss.

It lasts for only a few seconds, but those seconds feel like an eternity. The softness of your lips against his hard, unyielding smile has his processor running at full tilt, fans blasting at full force inside of his chest, trying to chase off a heat that threatens to melt his insides into a gooey mess.

He was brought back to reality, then, as his brain caught up to his body.

Moon leaned back, shame burning through him. He slowly unfurled his hands from your shoulders, bringing them up to cover his face.

Why had he done that?

“M-Moon, I—what—”

Your voice is so small, trembling, and that just makes it so much worse.

“No, no.” He rasped, clawing at his cheeks. You stumbled back as he scrambled out of the chair, knocking it over in his haste to put distance between the two of you. “Against the rules. It’s wrong. Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no—”

“Moon, stop.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—” Everything was spiraling. The gears inside his head grind so hard that it hurts.

He had you. He had something good. And he ruined it.

Sun was right. He ruined everything.

He always ruined everything good.

“Moon, stop!” Your fingers twine through his own, trying to pry his hands from his face. He can hear the panic in your voice. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“This is bad. This is wrong. It’s wrong.” He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into the dark, curl up in the shadows, and stay there forever. Away from you. Away from the good thing that he ruined. His fingers try to find purchase on something, anything, to grab and pull and break. “Wrong, wrong, wrong—”

“Moon…!”

He feels your fingers curl in the thin fabric of his neck ruffles—and then you yank.

The kiss is clumsy, teeth clicking against teeth as your lips smash against his plastic smile.

Everything in him screeches to a violent, almost painful halt. You’re kissing him.

And you keep kissing him.

Every kiss is hard and passionate, lips moving across his face as far as you can get to, standing on your tiptoes. He feels you stumble a little as you lean up into him, and his hands instinctively land on your waist to help you keep your balance.

“Wait, we can’t—”

“Sit.” You command.

He sits, following your will like the loyal, obedient dog that he is. He can see the chair he knocked over in front of him, sitting in what was your seat, but that view is quickly blocked when you climb into his lap. Your hands are trembling as they cup the sides of his face.

For a moment, your mouth opens and closes. Your brow furrows. You look like you want to say something, but no words come out.

So instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

And he lets you. He holds your tiny waist in his hands and leans into your touch, allowing the chaos filling his mind to simply melt away as you pepper kisses across his face.

Cheeks, nose, forehead, smile, eyebrows, chin. Back and forth and up and down and over and over—every kiss has his head spinning.

One of his large, metal hands come up to cradle the back of your head, urging you even closer. His fingers thread tenderly through your hair. Amongst the chaos, your hat is knocked free, falling to the wayside.

The heat of your body burns so hot through the thin fabric of your tank-top, and with the other hand, he gently squeezes the flesh of your side. A part of him wants to slide his fingers lower, to dip his hand beneath the shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot he can’t stand it—

But then he feels your tongue slide across the thin curve of his lower lip, and he jerks back in shock. The thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his snaps.

“I, uh—ha..ha-ha…” You laugh a little as you rush to stand, quickly reaching up to wipe the drool from your mouth. Your lips are bruised red and a little puffy, cheeks flushed a pretty pink color. “Sorry, I-I got a little…uh, carried away.”

“Naughty.” Moon purrs, wagging a finger at you playfully. “Naughty boy.”

He feels so light and…and happy. That’s the only way he can put the bubbly, buzzy, excited feeling running all through his body. He’s happy.

“Was that…was that okay? That I…did…that?”” You can hardly look at him, eyes darting back-and-forth. He can feel you starting to pull back slightly, and his fingers curl possessively over the curve of your hip, keeping you tethered.

“…Maybe.” He muses, head cocking to the side. “Maybe not.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

“Maybe you should…do it again.” His head tilted to the other side. “To make sure.”

He can’t help but giggle when obvious relief washes over your face.

“You…” Again, your lips move, not quite forming around words, like whatever you’re trying to say won’t quite come out. You settle with an awkward, lopsided smile. “So, it is okay? That I kissed you?”

Moon nodded, swaying lightly in his seat. “Yes. It’s…okay.”

He really wishes you would do it again.

“Okay. Okay! Good. I-I’m…yeah.” You laugh nervously, your cheeks still stained pink. Your grin stretches from ear-to-ear. Then you look up at him, and your expression morphs into an apologetic smirk.

“Cause now I’ve gotta clean your face off again.”

He stops swaying.

“Ah….” Moon can’t stop the little unhappy grunt that escapes him. He can still feel the sensation of each kiss buzzing against his metal skin. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Moon, I have to.” You chuckle again, once more reaching for the cleaning supplies. “You can’t walk around with drool all over your face.”

“I’ve done it before.”

You fix him with a look. “You can’t walk around with MY drool all over your face.”

“Boo.” He crossed his arms, slumping back in a dramatic pout. His hat slumped over his face, the bell jingling as it bounced off his nose. “You’re no fun.”

A little whistle of air escapes your nose as you settled the other chair in front of him, scooting forward until your knees were touching. You reach up, gently moving the bell back over the curve of his head and beckoned him forward.

Moon, of course, leans into your hand without hesitation.

And so, you resume where you’d left off, with you gently wiping away the remnants of your improvised make-out session.

“So. Um.” Your voice cracks a little. “Are we, like…I mean. Do you…like…me?”

“Yes.” He says simply.

“No, I mean. Uh.” You suck in a shaky breath, still struggling to look him in the eye. “Like…like-like. Do you like me. In “that” way? Like—like “that”?”

He’s not sure how he didn’t make that clear. He thought that he had.

But you look like you want to sink into the earth right now, so he can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Maybe.” Moon crooned, daintily folding his hands between his knees and swaying side-to-side. “Do you like-like me?”

He can hear the breath catch in your throat, and you look away quickly, face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

So very cute.

“Y-Yeah. I do. A lot.” You inhale slowly, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “I-I care about you, a lot, Moon. You’re…you’re my best friend and I…I like you. A lot.”

He stops swaying (again).

“Hm. Good.”

Before you can react, he leans forward to gently bump his smile against your forehead. You, of course, stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

 “I like you…too.”

For a second, you look like you’re thinking about saying something—and Moon simply giggles when you lean in to kiss him again.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, he can keep this one.

[sukunasluvrr]

Nerd Gojo who was an absolute simp for you. The poor man so badly wanted to get his hands on you in some way, but he knew he wouldn’t have a chance. You were way out of his league. You, the popular girl who hung around people like Sukuna and Kenjaku and were always present in frat parties. Often ending up with a pillow between his legs and humping the poor fabric like a desperate dog while whimpering your name over and over again, leaving the sheet soiled with his sticky sperm and a hint of shame in his actions, how did he end up this down bad for you?? Nobody knew.

He’d often help you out with your studies and tests, often doing them for you after you bat your lashes prettily at him and asked him real nicely. It really didn’t take much to convince him, looking at you with puppy eyes and his glasses that sat so adorably on the bridge of his nose as he nods and mutters „of course..“ under his breath. But he couldn’t take it anymore, one day while you were in his dorm, him helping you with a project- he couldn’t help himself. He was already half hard because of your tits being in his sight and the smell of your perfume that invaded his senses. Looking at you with his usual puppy like stare as he took all the courage he had. “Can you… stay the night?” He asked almost in a hushed tone. You had to look twice to make sure you weren’t imagining this,

“You want me to stay the night?” You asked him, to make sure you didn’t just hear it wrong, but to your surprise, he nodded without hesitation, hands moving to your hips as he got onto his knees- actually begging for you

“Please… just give me this one night… I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, this night and the rest of our semesters… but I’m begging you, I just wanna feel you for once…“

He was so desperate… it was almost cute. And his offer was quite tempting, so you agreed and he practically grinned in excitement. Already pulling you to the bed and kissing over your skin in soft pecks, being so gentle with it, like you could break if he went to hard and rough on you. His hands big enough to cup both your breasts through your top as he started kneading the soft subtle flesh, small whimpers leaving him from the feeling as he made you lay back on his bed, straddling your hips and grinding lightly against you, feeling the imprint of his length pressing against you. He already felt big through the fabric and the man wasn’t even fully hard yet!! He was still gentle with you, constantly asking if you really want this to which you nodded and he kept going. Removing his glasses and putting them on the nightstand as he started undressing you, lips pressing against your neck. Getting your top and bra off with practiced ease, without even wasting another second his lips were kissing around your breasts, kissing the underside of one while the other was being teased by his hand, thumb circling around your nippe and lightly pinching it while his mouth worked on coating the other in his spit, tongue circling around it and softly sucking on it like he was worshipping your chest. Earning small sounds from your lips and your hand moving into his hair while he kept this up for a few minutes until you remembered his offer, softly pulling him off your chest

„You said you’ll let me do anything, right?“ your voice a little shaky and breathy from arousal, „and I wanna ride you, pretty“ and god you could see the wheels turning in his head as he made sense of your words. Hearts practically forming in his eyes as he nods eagerly, already sitting up to remove his clothes with shaky hands

„Yes!! Yes yes yes, anything for you“ the moment his clothes were off and he was left in his boxers with a obvious tent standing out, his hands were already on you again, your words seeming to having made him only 10 times more desperate and harder for you, pulling at your sweatpants to get them off of you and pulling you on top of him, eyebrows furrowed in a pathetic way and puppy eyes looking up at you

„do whatever you want to me… spit on me, use me like a stupid toy, I just want you… I need you“

His words so desperate and full of emotion as his hips started bucking up into yours, moaning at the stimulation to his sensitive clothed cock. Your hands finding way to to his chest for stability as you tried to get him to calm down, not even having gotten your panties off yet and the slick was smearing over your pussy lips almost uncomfortably

„ 'toru… calm down for a second, I’m not going anywhere“

You tried to reason with him, but your words went to blank ears while he kept grinding up against you, hands already starting to pull his boxers down and fingers pulling at the strings of your panties to get the flimsy fabric off your skin and get access to your sweet pussy, accidentally ripping the fabric and pulling it off, the moment he made eye contact with your glistened cunt he felt like he was in a dream, his movements stopping for once and hands parting your thighs a little more and pulling your closer to his hard and proud standing dick. Making you gasp for a second as you saw it, already knowing that the stretch would probably make your poor pussy remember him for the next few weeks. He of course noticed your stare, and he thought you were disappointed

„it’s not really that big… sorry to disa-„ the poor guy couldn’t even finish his words before you interrupted him

„NO! No, oh my god, you’re probably the biggest I’ve ever had“

And you could’ve sworn you saw a light twitch in his dick when he heard your words, a soft hint of red tinting his pale cheeks, watching as your hand moves around his cock to give a few pumps to it, watching and listening for his reactions while he gave the prettiest whimpers from himself, hips bucking into your hand for more, before he could get a word out, he watched you let a globe of spit drop onto his tip, making his lower stomach cave in a little from the sensation on his sensitive dick. Already starting to beg for more, eyes half lidded while he watched you tease his poor, already angry looking tip. Your hand smearing the salvia over his cock to lube him up a bit before you moved, hovering a little over him with your knees pressed into the mattress and your entrance teasing his tip, letting it slip in and out faintly but never truly sinking down on him, making him almost cry while he endured the sweet torture of your pussy. The feel of your slick hole against his sticky tip almost too much to bear, having spend weeks if not months imagining how it would feel while fisting his dick to the thought of you almost pathetically at night. And now he was so so close to getting what he wanted, to feeling the slick warm walls of your heat around his throbbing length. It took some encouragement to actually have you sink down on him, the stretch mean and making you hiss a little, earning a small look of concern from him, his hands moving to your hips and rubbing soft circles into your skin in an attempt to soothe you while you got used to the size of him inside of you. The moment you started moving your hips against him, he felt like he ascended to heaven. A small groan leaving him and head titling back into the pillows to focus on your hips working to bounce along his dick, not able to keep his own from thrusting up into you from below- weakly at first but picking up in pace and firmness the faster you got. His eyes fixated on your face to look at every crunch of your nose, brows and the part of your lips whole moans left your mouth, his moans and groans being heard along yours, as well as the undeniable sound of skin against skin and the soft squelches of your cunt working on his dick to milk his cum from him. His fingers still digging into your hips but not moving them to bring you out of rhythm. Each stroke of your warm cunt around his dick had his mouth gaping and slutty sounds escaping from it. Your slick already trickling down his length and coating his balls, surely leaving a mess on the sheets but neither of you cared when you were riding him so good. Trying to keep his eyes on you and watching your tits bounce, unable to resist but move his hands to cup the soft flesh and knead gently

„you’re so pretty sweetheart…“ he muttered under his breath, his voice sounding somewhat shaky along with his whines and moans of pleasure

„don’t wanna be without your pussy ever again… ngh- fuck…. Keep going“

It was embarrassing to say he got close already, having been hard ever since you were with him and being so needy for you he couldn’t control himself, a pathetic whine leaving and eyebrows furrowing as his eyes closed „mhhff…. I’m gonna cum…“ his words were barely heard by you, wing lost in your own world and almost in a trance while using his dick to get yourself off, but you weren’t gonna be cruel… how could you be cruel to the sweet, nerd guy, who collected comics and who actually knew something about female anatomy???

„Go on Baby… cum for me“ giving him the go ahead because you were close yourself. Working the both of you to the edge at the same time, moaning your name as he came with a thrust up into your cunt, hands pulling you down by your hips to keep your warm walls around his dick, feeling your inner walls throb around his spent cock while you came at the same time as him was even better, feeling like he was being killed by your tight heat- breath coming out in gasps and brain going blank. „Ohhh ffffucck“ was all he could mutter out, you still gave weak grinds of your hips against his, rising out your own pleasure before you came to a stop and slumped down against him, face against his chest and listening to his fast heartbeat. Keeping him seethed inside of you, too exhausted to have him pull out just yet. But.. to your shock, he was still hard. Barely even calmed down from his highs and already bucking into you again

„Mff, another round??“

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “DON’T YOU WANT A FAMILY WITH ME?”

୨ৎ pairing: husband!junho x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: angst. major angst that’s slightly emotional.

୨ৎ summary: 5 months into marriage you thought it was time to bring up kids and how big of a family you both wanted but.. things didn’t seem to work out when you brought it up to him and your world slowly started to crumble.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello!! here we are! my first ever angst fic and I hope you can enjoy it!! I feel as if I’m the best at this (since I’ve practiced writing angst so much in my notes app lol) let’s see how it turns out! x

staring at the ticking clock for what had seemed like hours now eyes burning from how long you went without blinking, a sigh left your glossed over lips holding onto the small pair of shoes you came across after leaving work one night. passing by a cute baby shop that held just about everything from clothing items to toys and strollers, your body filled up with this excitement that couldn’t be explained. it had finally been time to talk about a family with junho and the nerves only worsened as each minute went by. of course he wasn’t home yet junho was late almost every night. work was slowly getting to him turning him into a man that you weren’t too familiar with which only hurt more. he’d come home and rant about needing to find something that he just wouldn’t tell you and you never asked him what it was. were you scared to ask him?

“junho..” his name slipped from your lips the second the door opened and you stood from your seat on the couch. his eyes that you adored so much widened seeing the small pair of shoes that you held onto getting all the wrong ideas. awkwardly laughing and shaking your head, “oh.. these? no not at all. I picked them up at the baby shop nearby after work and.. well, just thought they were the cutest little things I’ve ever seen. I thought that maybe one day our little one could wear them.. what do you think?” all the fears that flooded your mind came back that moment seeing the look on his face it almost made you sick to your stomach. “my love, you already know what my answers going to be, hm? work is just too much for me right now. I think we’ll have to wait just a bit longer.” the large and warm hands that made you feel the safest and most comfortable gently grabbed ahold of your own and pulled you closer to him but you didn’t budge. feet staying in place and eyes staring at the floor beneath you it was hard to form words after hearing such an excuse. forcing him would make you feel like the most piece of shit wife in the universe but the both of you weren’t getting any younger and it had always been a dream of yours to have a child early so you could slowly grow with the child and be close with them but junho was stopping you and it was only making things worse in the marriage. many would say to enjoy marriage and wait for kids but you knew that junho would be the most loving, caring, and supportive father in the world. did you sound selfish for wanting to see it so badly? “how long do we have to wait..?”

it was his turn to sigh especially since he pulled you towards him again and you stayed put in the same place you were in when he walked through the door. “just a few more months, yeah? maybe one more year. give me another year and I can finally give you what you want.” a year..? did this man really just say give him a year? slowly looking up from the floor to look at him, a tear rolled down your cheek. why weren’t you able to understand this? it wasn’t rocket science junho was so involved in his work and you had knew that from the beginning but what you weren’t expecting is it to get in the way of the marriage and the topic of wanting kids with him. “don’t you want a family with me?” what a dumb question to ask but it was still asked as a few more tears rolled down your wet and warm cheeks.

“what? of course I want a family with you. why would you ask such a thing? I married you for a reason didn’t I? I love you. I love you so much and you’re so precious to me that’s why I need you to wait just a bit longer.” junho watched the tears roll down your cheeks in pure agony. not being able to communicate with you about his job killed him every day in ways that he didn’t want. as he met up with gihun and spoke about plans he would find himself zoning out thinking about you and how happy he was now being married to you. how much he wanted a child with you and who would that child look more like? his thoughts were clear from the start that he wanted, needed, and adored you. having a family is at the top of his list and he just doesn’t understand why his life had to turn out this way. hiding so many secrets from his precious wife and not knowing if you were safe or not with him during these months of needing to find his brother and the island.

allowing him to pull you into his broad chest a few sobs left you while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you close to him even when you your best to pull away from him. “let me go junho.” voice stern even if it was weak from the crying you’d done. junho shook his head his grip around you only tightening feeling like the worst husband in the world watching you suffer. “I can make this better. please trust me? we can have a baby soon, alright? I just need a month—maybe two. I hate seeing you like this. you know how important my work is sweetheart.” work. it never failed for him to bring up work even after seeing you cry and feel so worthless like this. using the last bit of strength you had left and pushing away from him reaching to pick up the small pair of shoes and walk past him into your shared bedroom. “if work is that important then you should’ve never married me junho and I mean it! all you do is talk about work and how much it stresses you out but you won’t quit! I’ve told you countless times before to quit and find something more family oriented but you won’t. you’re home late every single night. I hear the phone calls you pick up during the early hours of the morning when you’re supposed to be sleeping. junho I can’t take any more of this. I love you because you’re my husband but I absolutely despise your work.”

junho was left alone in front of the bedroom door after hearing everything you had to say about how you truly felt about him and his work. he moved towards the wall and slid down it letting his hands run through his styled hair messing it up and rubbing the gel off. he had to make things right somehow and someway with you while still trying to find his brother. how? how was he going to do such a thing because at the end of the day he was keeping the most secrets from you, his innocent and loving wife that he absolutely adored. it felt so wrong but not at all wrong at the same time which had been the weirdest feeling for him. you or his job and brother? what kind of question was that? there was no way he could decide so easily without sounding like a heartless prick but.. it was time for him to decide.

[trustmypoison]

SVT with an acts of service partner

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘svt with an act of services s/o? maybe not the most physically affectionate (e.g. giving hugs & kisses), but an attentive and observant partner who always does these sweet acts of services for them like putting a hand on the corner of the furniture to avoid hurting the boys, peeling/cutting foods into smaller parts for them, tying their shoelaces when it gets unsecured and etc. the type that doesn't seem to notice, but notices a lot of things’

This will absolutely become a competition - Seungcheol, DK, Mingyu, Seungkwan

I feel that all of these guys are big acts of service people themselves but might not really know how to take receiving acts of service. So if you do something for him he’ll grumble or whine, not because he’s not appreciative (because he is!!), but because he wants to be able to do all of that and more for you. Like, imagine if you whine about having to wash your hair. He’s leaping at the opportunity to do it for you, but his eyes narrow when you say, “Only if I can wash yours too.” He’ll agree, if only because that’s the trade for getting to take care of you. 

Matches your acts of service without even thinking - Joshua, Wonwoo, Minghao, Vernon

He won’t even notice that the acts of services for you guys get borderline sickening to those around you because it genuinely comes so naturally to both of you. Like, it’s so ingrained in the relationship that it’s almost invisible (which isn’t a bad thing). Whoever gets home first starts dinner. Whoever notices that the other’s favorite clothing item is dirty or wrinkled takes care of it. Whoever’s shoe is untied instantly has it fixed. Whoever has to lean down to get something under the table has their head shielded. This is totally silent and subtle to you guys but glaringly obvious to literally everyone else. 

Absolutely eats this up - Jeonghan, Hoshi

Don’t get me wrong, they’d do their own acts of service for you, but I think they’d simultaneously light up and turn to mush when you do something like this for them. They’re super appreciative of it and are very vocal about it. You always know that your little actions are noticed and totally make his day. I think it would compel him to find ways to make you feel just as loved as he feels, regardless of whatever love language you prefer to receive. 

Might feel a little bad sometimes - Jun, Woozi, Chan

I kind of picture that he’d feel a little bad when you go out of your way to do even the smallest acts of service for him. Like imagine he comes home late from work and he really just can’t wait to crawl into bed with you and sleep - food can wait, shower can wait, even changing clothes can wait. But if you put a hot plate of food in front of him at 2 in the morning because you knew he didn’t get to eat much today, he wouldn’t really know what to do with it sometimes. He might scold and tell you that you should be asleep and that you didn’t have to do all of this, but it’s not genuine anger. He just wants you to take care of yourself the same way you take care of him. 

[suushiiii]

Prologue

A kids dream being crushed, and it comes from the people who supposed to support it.

Word count: 800+

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Everyone has dreams, kids, teenagers, adults and elderly people have them. You dream so you can escape reality for a little while, you can dream about being the best in school, getting a promotion you always wanted at the job where you worked for the last couple of years or you dream of having a good future with a husband/wife, kids, dogs, a house and enough money to do everything you literally dreamed of. Every dream is different, that’s the fun of dreaming and you get to experience different ones constantly. Out of everyone, kids dream the most; they dream of being a big brother/sister, being a police officer, getting a unicorn or even becoming a princess or a prince. When you’re a kid you don’t have to worry about anything, you can think about everything you want later in life and tell your parents about it. They would give you their sweetest smile and say; “Yeah, of course that’s possible. There is nothing that can be impossible,” or when you’re a teenager, they say; “We support you all the way.” Parents want the best for their children and give them the best future they can have, because they don’t want to fail as parents. But what if the reason your dreams shattered on the floor, are ‘because’ of your parents. What if your parents don’t support the dreams that you dream and they say; “Are you insane, that’s not possible.” Or “don’t say something ridiculous.” That would break the hearts of every child, when they realize that their parents don’t support their dreams.

Children will stop sharing things with people, because their parents never gave them the support that they needed. Some kids will get in trouble in school to get the attention of their parents, but some will just stop being social and keep everything to themselves. The child will fall to the background, even if they don’t want it, because they’ve so much to say and do. But because of their parents, they just assume that everything is wrong that they say or share. The worst thing is, that the parents will search for something that you can do, even if you don’t like it. But you stay quiet, because you don’t want to disappoint your parents again, by disagreeing about what they want. You just accepted your faith and would go do the thing that they asked you to do, but it would drain you so much, because you were doing something that just wasn’t you. Every time you got home, you probably would head upstairs immediately and not say anything to your parents, even if they would ask; “Hey, how was it?,” but you would pretend that you didn’t hear them and headed upstairs to your room. You would sit there forever, everything was better than sitting downstairs and getting interrogated by parents about how it was a place where you didn’t want to be. You just wanted to do what you’ve always dreamed of and what you love, but no, you’re sitting in your room killing time. You would lay on your bed and just think about what you could do, so your parents would change their minds. Become a rebel, so they have to keep their eyes on you? Or you should tell them you really don’t want to do what they want you to do, because that’s just not you, but you know your parents wouldn’t listen to that. Sometimes you just hoped that your parents would support you, even if they don’t agree with you, but that’s too much to ask. 

You keep sitting in your room, hoping to shake the disapproving looks of your parents off of you, but it feels like they’re engraved in your brain and don’t go out of your thoughts, no matter how hard you try. And then out of nowhere, your parents are standing in front of you. You find it difficult to read their faces, but they had their neutral faces on, well that’s what you assumed. Your parents begin their usual talk, that they need to talk to you about somethings, because you’re older now and make your own decisions. So, when the words flew out that you can do anything you want, you couldn’t be more excited. The dreams you had as a child became a reality, even though your parents still didn’t approve of the decision, they would try to get onboard with it. Your parents left you alone and you couldn’t feel more joy than you already did, because dreams do come true. If you fight for what you believe in and that you, yourself know it’s possible then nobody else’s opinion matters. You know for yourself what you can and can’t do, what for you is worth fighting for or what you should let go. Nobody should be in charge of the things that you dream, because everyone has their own thoughts on it, but only thoughts that matter on the dreams are your own.

[mrspiastri]

filmy dialogues 🎞️

pairing: oscar piastri x desi! reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.5k words

an: ty anon for this request! i loved writing it!! <4

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡

"And which one is this again?" Oscar asked as he settled in to watch the movie Y/N had picked out.

"It's a Bollywood movie! You're gonna love it—it was my favorite growing up."

"Is it one of those romance ones?"

Oscar was a bit of a bore when it came to movies. His favorite genre was sci-fi, while Y/N's was rom-coms. Naturally, choosing a movie to watch was always a challenge.

"Well… yes and no. It's like a heist movie, but it has a bit of everything in it, really."

"I don't trust your judgment since you made us watch that movie with those nepo babies."

"That was a mistake on my part, I agree. But this one is so good, I promise."

Movie nights were a staple of the couple’s routine, especially since Oscar was usually busy on weekends. Each week, they took turns picking a movie and rated it based on what they liked most about it. Last week, Oscar had made Y/N watch one of the Star Wars movies. While she wasn’t completely floored, she did agree that Hayden Christensen was a cutie.

"I've got the perfect one. It's called ‘Happy New Year’, and it’s iconic.”

"Very well, bring it on."

🎞️🎞️🎞️

The movie started. They skipped through the opening credits and got to the scene where Charlie's father gets framed.

"How did they just put him in jail? Wouldn't there be a formal investigation? Plus, he remembers being drugged. This is quite unrealistic," Oscar said, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N let out a sigh, already used to her boyfriend's antics.

"I'm sure they had one, but he was up against a really powerful guy, you know?"

Oscar nodded, not entirely convinced but not completely dismissing the explanation either. They continued watching, Y/N snuggling further into the couch and against her boyfriend's shoulder. It was an unspoken ritual of sorts—she would gently bump her head against his shoulder repeatedly until he laughed and wrapped his arms around her.

"How did he just hack the voting polls? This is part of a global competition. They have to have better firewalls. Also, Team Diamond was terrible—they got booed off stage! How is everyone just accepting that they won?"

Oscar was a yapper, especially during movies.

Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her (his) Sprite. "I mean, they have a hacker on their team. It’s possible."

"Yeah, he's like 19, doing all his hacking from a laptop. A regular DELL laptop. Not even a good computer with a proper processor," Oscar grumbled, stuffing some popcorn into his mouth.

She giggled. "Well, maybe he's just that good. Besides, you don’t even know how to hack."

"That’s beside the point, and you know it."

Eventually, they reached the movie’s climax, with things heating up for the team. Y/N sat staring at the screen like she didn’t already know exactly what was going to happen next—despite having watched the movie six times before.

"Wait, so they just enter the vault with him? How does that work?" Oscar continued, pointing out the movie’s logical flaws.

"I mean, they’re lookalikes, so yeah."

"But that fingerprint probably wouldn’t work. It’s been tampered with, so it should come across as invalid."

"Why are they exiting through the sewers? They could just leave normally. This makes no sense."

"Why are they returning?! Now they’ll get arrested!"

If there was one thing Oscar would do, it was interrupt a romantic date with dumb questions.

"Maybe you shouldn’t focus so much on the movie’s accuracy, you know?" Y/N teased. "Think instead about how good Deepika looks in that saree." She winked at him.

"You’d look better anyway, and this movie’s too stupid for me not to point out everything wrong with it."

"But that's the fun, right? You don’t need to think too much while watching. Just laugh at the funny stuff and roll your eyes at the dumb moments. It’s still enjoyable. Also, I never look that good in a saree. That’s why I don’t wear them anymore," she said.

"I think you need to stop choosing the movies from next time. And yes, you do look good! I've seen the photos where you wore that blue one!"

Oscar turned Y/N’s body, which had been leaning against his chest, so that she was facing him.

"That was taken when I was in the twelfth grade! I wore it for my graduation, and it looked dumb then too."

"Well, I think you looked beautiful, and you should wear one to that Diwali party we’re going to."

She looked away, cheeks pink.

"I don’t know… it’s such a hassle to drape one. I can’t even do it without my mom’s help."

"I’m right here, aren’t I? I’ll help." He cheerfully tugged her closer to his chest, resting his head on top of hers. She could hear—almost feel—his heartbeat quicken. It was a subtle reminder that even after all this time, Oscar still got butterflies around Y/N.

"It’s super tricky, especially with the pleats. You sure you can help?" she asked, doing her best to speak from where she was trapped under him.

"I’ll try my best, darling. You’ll look better than Deepika too." He chuckled, making Y/N laugh as well, feeling the vibrations of his laughter through where her head was resting.

"Now, forget about that. I wanna watch them dance and win at the finale!" She wriggled out of his hold, reaching for the remote to unpause the movie.

"Hey, no spoilers!"

"You knew that was going to happen!"

🎞️🎞️🎞️

The movie played on, the sounds of Bollywood music filling the room as the final dance number unfolded. Y/N, grinning, hummed along while Oscar groaned dramatically.

“I swear, if they win despite all the cheating—”

“They will win,” she cut in smugly.

Oscar rolled his eyes but didn’t complain further. His arm tightened around her, absentmindedly playing with her fingers. Y/N glanced up at him, finding that—despite all his so-called complaints—he was watching the screen with a slight smile.

"You're secretly enjoying it, aren’t you?" she accused playfully.

"I am not," he denied immediately, though the way his foot tapped to the music betrayed him.

Y/N smirked, scooting closer. "It’s okay, you can admit it."

Oscar sighed dramatically. "Fine. It’s slightly entertaining."

"Aha! I knew it!"

She leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Maybe next time, you’ll actually pick a Bollywood movie yourself."

"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves," Oscar muttered, though his cheeks were pink now too.

They spent the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, save for Y/N’s occasional giggles and Oscar’s inevitable complaints. But when the credits rolled and Y/N stretched, ready to turn the TV off, she felt a pair of arms tighten around her waist.

"Five more minutes, let’s watch the final song,” Oscar mumbled into her hair.

Y/N smiled. "You like cuddling more than watching the movie, don’t you?"

"Maybe."

"That, I’ll allow," she whispered, settling against him once more.

As the grand finale song played, Oscar let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples.

"I don’t know how I just sat through two and a half hours of absolute madness,” he grumbled. "They danced their way into a vault, Y/N. A vault!"

Y/N, completely unbothered, swayed along to the music. "And they looked fabulous while doing it."

Oscar turned to her, suddenly dramatic. "You know what? Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe I need to embrace the bollywoodness of it all."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?"

He dramatically placed a hand on his heart, took a deep breath, and, with all the seriousness he could muster, attempted a line he had definitely not practiced enough.

“Pyaar… dosti hai, Y/N. Aur agar woh… sabse… accha dost nahi ban… sak—wait, what’s the word?"

Y/N blinked. "Ban sakta?"

"Yeah, that. Ban sakta… toh main usko… kabhi love nahi kar sakta!”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Y/N burst out laughing. "That was the most accented Bollywood line I’ve ever heard!”

Oscar groaned. "Oi, cut me some slack! Hindi is hard!"

"It is," Y/N giggled, still shaking her head. "But you get points for effort."

Oscar leaned back into the couch, shaking his head. "I swear, your movies make it sound so easy. Everyone's just casually breaking into song, dropping poetic love lines, hacking government servers with a budget laptop—"

"That’s the magic of it."

He turned to look at her, her face still lit up from laughing, her eyes sparkling as she hummed along to the credits song.

Oscar sighed, shaking his head. "You know what? Maybe I should start watching more of these. Get my Hindi right. Who knows, I might actually end up enjoying one of them."

Y/N gasped. "Wait—are you saying you’ll finally watch ‘Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham’ with me?"

Oscar groaned. "I walked right into that, didn’t I?"

"Absolutely."

He sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips as he pulled her closer. "Fine. But I’m allowed to complain."

"You always do."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Fair."

And as the music played on, he had to admit—maybe Bollywood wasn't all bad, especially if he had her next to him singing along to all the songs.

my first request!! i was so geeked about this lol. also im sorry if you haven’t watched happy new year but it is unfortunately one of my favourites so go watch it rn its so stupidly good haha <4

[rocksibblingsau]

Never really considered Chaz and Synth as a (platonic ofc) duo before, BUT THINK OF ALL THE POSSIBILITIES!

Like, Chaz is known for his charm and smooth jazz and how he’s basically like a snake that coils around his dazed victim for the fun of it. He’s classy and self-obsessed with everything ranging about himself — also adding the fact that bro can float with how smooth he’s playing his tune — which is a literal trait of Techno trolls during “treaditation” (which only Trollex can do in the long run out of water).

And Synth on the other hand is literally a huge fish who’s so sophisticated with Classical music and tradition that he basically knows opera, added with the fact that he has this certain charm to be an outgoing ambassador to other trolls. And he knows treaditation (which is close to Chaz’s floating) and is co-fitness instructor (or whatever you call it) at the Hairnasium with Smidge — so if anything else goes wrong with Chaz out of hand, bro can just grab his saxophone and snap it in half or something — as it wouldn’t probably be hard for him as seen in “The Tunnel of Friendship” where he broke a Glittermelon (I think that’s what they called it).

So just imagining Synth and Chaz bonding is so funny to me, because it’s basically Good cop & Bad cop and Golden Retriever & Black cat vibes all over again. All I can imagine is Chaz teaching Synth how the hypnosis works and Synth eventually gets dubbed “The Siren” after being accidentally almost drowning a bunch of trolls by accident one practice night with Chaz. The best form of rehabilitation is having someone much stronger but with more patience to beat you up if you f up lol /hj /aff

I definitely see what you mean but I'm scared to set Synth too close to that guy. Like when you take a pet to a playdate and you're like "Actually I don't want my baby near you"

[vaya-writes]

Infernal Assistance (Option Four) - 4

You’ve been struggling to survive in a zombie apocalypse. Things are looking really bad before a demon swoops in to help. But that demon is an incubus. And he’s in need of help too.

-

Reader (GNC pronouns, AFAB, asexual spectrum) x incubus (cis male). Situationship. Allies to lovers. Zombie apocalypse AU. Slow Burn. Banner by saradika-graphics. Wordcount: 3800.

Content Warnings: apocalypse setting, chronic fatigue depicted, detailed discussions of sex, kink, sexual dysfunction, consent, monster cock anatomy, etc. Very brief discussion implying sexual assault and sex with somebody dying has happened to Veron since the apocalypse. Please let me know if you’d like anything else added.

This chapter was very cathartic to write, but a pain in the ass to edit.

Masterlist - A03 - Previous

Regardless of your newfound ability to nap in unfamiliar places, the sound of the door opening still startles you awake. 

Veron takes in your raised hands and defensive posture with a huff and a smirk. “You alright?” 

You take a moment to orient yourself. To let your heartrate settle, and wipe the sleep from your eyes before nodding. “Yeah. Sorry. Dozed off.” 

His wry amusement is immediately replaced with a creased brow and a frown. He bridges the gap between you. Puts the back of his hand against your forehead for a moment before withdrawing it suddenly; rethinking the impulse to touch you, or perhaps not actually knowing how to check a human’s temperature. “Is that normal?” 

It’s your turn for amusement, seeing a new side to the demon. With the impassive and steady front he’d shown you yesterday, you’d assumed he wouldn’t be the type to fret.  

“I’m fine. Feeling refreshed already. Having to take breaks is pretty normal for me.” You don’t tell him that the nap is an outlier. 

Even with your assurance, he looks bothered. “Did I take too much from you this morning? Do you want me to carry you home?” 

“God. No.” At that you push to your feet. Your cheeks blaze. You’re not going to let a stranger carry you home because you took a nap. 

But he might be right.  

“I mean. Maybe you did? I don’t really know. But I can walk. If you really want to fuss, then you can help me carry everything back.” 

He intercepts your movement and swats your hands away. “I’ll get it. Don’t push yourself.” 

You hide your amusement and let him load up on supplies before leaving for your apartment. 

He stares at you on the trip back. Frequent little glances, with that crease still in his brow. 

You let out a huff when everything has been delivered and he still hovers. “Look, I fatigue easily. I promise. It’s normal.” 

He crosses his arms. Gives a noncommittal grunt. But doesn’t move. 

“Let’s see how I feel tomorrow. If it becomes a problem, maybe we can change our schedule or something. Feed you in the evenings so I can take the night to recover. Yeah?” 

Some of the tension seems to go out of him. Enough so that he takes a seat on the couch. “Alright.” 

Still, he doesn’t relax. Even as you sort groceries in the kitchen and rearrange your new supplies.  

You leave him there, putting things away in the bathroom and the linen cupboards. Making the rounds through your space until you return to the lounge and find him waiting on the couch, still stiff. Still stewing in some unnamed emotion. 

Thinking it’d be better to nip the problem in the bud before it develops any further, you join him in the lounge.  

“What’s wrong?” 

He works his jaw. Opens his mouth to speak, but takes a moment to find the words.  

You let him. 

“You’re the first living person I’ve seen in weeks. The first friendly one in... months. I don’t want to hurt you on accident.” 

The first words that jump to your mind, the first assurance is ‘you won’t’. But you can’t promise that, can you? You don’t know this demon. Don’t know his temper or his strength. His patience or his moods.  

He could hurt you.  

It’s a thought you’ve already accepted. It contributed to why you agreed so readily to feed him. Why you’ll keep feeding him. Because a part of you knows: he needs you. Literally. Needs.  

And it would be better to help him willingly, than to have the choice taken away. Something you’re sure he could do. You saw him go against the zombies outside. If he wanted, nothing would stop him from taking control. Dragging you away from your home and using you as a portable snack.  

You realise he’s staring. A miserable look on his face, almost as if he can read your thoughts.  

You banish the worst case scenarios from your mind. Return again the crux of the hour. That Veron is worried. And that he doesn’t want to hurt you.  

You close your eyes in a grimace. Visualise where the rest of this conversation is going to have to go. “Alright. You’re my new roommate, nearly everyone else is dead, we might as well skip the small talk and jump right into the deep end.” 

Without further ado you drop onto the couch beside him. Stare at the black screen of your now defunct television while you direct your speech towards Veron. 

“Tell you what. I promise that from here on out I will make an effort to communicate with you. In particular, if things are- If you’re hurting me. If you’re about to hurt me. If things are about to go too far, or I’m out of energy, if you’re- going too deep or using too much force or- whatever. Okay? I’ll complain and whinge until you wish I’d be less communicative.”  

You don’t want to look at him. Don’t really want to be perceived right now. Instead focusing your attention on the demon’s reflection. How comically big he looks on the couch next to you. 

He lets out a long breath. “Right. I appreciate that. But what if... you’re not sure? If I’m going too far. Like.” He pauses. Considers. “Have you ever been for a massage?” 

You humour him. “I suppose.” 

“And they ask how hard you want it, and you say..?” 

“Medium.” 

“Okay, so they’re giving you a massage, and they’re getting it right. It’s feeling good. And then suddenly, just in this one spot, it’s a little bit too hard. The rest of it is fine. But, just this one spot is a bit unpleasant for you. Not unbearable, but not relaxing anymore. Right?” 

“Right.” 

He meets your gaze, “Do you say something?” 

And then you get it. Because in a situation like that, if it’s not outright hurting, if it’s only a little unpleasant, why not push through? You know it’s not good to do so during a massage. But communicating precisely is hard enough without telling a stranger how to touch your body. What if you get up the nerve to tell them ‘that spot hurts, go lighter,’ and suddenly the rest of the massage is too light? 

Is this how Veron feels when he’s fucking people? Like a masseuse, wondering if something he’s doing isn’t right? If people are just pushing through? 

“Can you tell? When somebody’s holding something back? With your... abilities?” 

He leans back into the couch. Expression somewhere between resigned and properly upset. “Was it a good massage?” 

“Huh?” 

“If it only hurts a little, do you still have a good time? Find yourself relaxed?” 

You consider. “I guess it varies. I usually appreciate any massage, enough to put aside a temporary discomfort.” 

He shrugs. “Then I probably can’t tell. I can sense arousal. I might notice it dip a little, but I’m not going to know why unless you say something.” 

It’s weird, his morose tone. You weren’t expecting him to get vulnerable with you, but that’s how he looks right now, staring fixedly at the ground. 

“Does that happen a lot?” 

He blinks, breaking from stupor. “The massage thing? Just a metaphor. But. Sometimes I’ll have some really good sex and then I’ll find out my partner didn’t like it as much. And it’s really upsetting. Because I wish they’d said something. Asked for more. Told me what wasn’t working. I like making sure my partner has a good time.” 

He crinkles his nose. Brings himself to glance your direction. “And I don’t want to be rude, but, like. You’ve got this... feeling. Where, you’re not... inexperienced, but, like. Not interested? Just. I know you’re doing this because you have to. And I appreciate it. But I still want you to tell me if you’re having a bad time. Yeah?” 

You’re taken aback. You wonder if all concubi would be so good at reading you or if Veron is just particularly perceptive. Because he’s not wrong.  

And now he’s staring down at you, lip bitten and arms wrapped around his knees, like he’s bracing for you to hurt him.  

You let out a long breath of your own. Sit back. Try not to fidget.  

“I have a... complicated relationship with sex. Some days I can’t stand the thought of it. Other days I’m completely neutral. And some days I’m all for it. None of those things are a problem by themself, but. It’s completely unpredictable. I never know what to expect.” You stare down at your hands. “My partners never. Get it, I guess. Or, sometimes they do. But they just don’t have the patience to deal with it. Make it feel like my fault when I don’t want to fuck. I guess as a result, I tend to do that thing. That you worry about. Where, if I’m not having a great time I don’t say anything. Because. I don’t think there’s anything they can do.” 

He’s silent for a while. You don’t blame him. It’s a heavy confession. What do you even say to somebody in response? 

He starts with, “I’m sorry people have made you feel like that.” 

It’s enough to get you to look at him again. Knees tucked less against his chest. Sitting cross-legged now, facing you. Still lip bitten and frowning, but less afraid. Less anxious.  

“You could have a sexual dysfunction.” He shrugs. A little smile appears on his face for a moment before fading. “Or, just straight up could be asexual. But. That’s not the point. Neither of those things would be your fault. Neither of those things are shameful either. And your partners shouldn’t have made you feel like they were.” 

You have to look away again when tears spring to your eyes. It takes you a few breaths to banish them. To hide your... what are you feeling? Relief? Embarrassment? You’re feeling seen, mostly. 

“I’m not the best at communicating what’s precisely what’s on my mind, but-” the words are out of your mouth before you have a chance to think them through. “I assume you’re familiar with the stoplight system.” 

“Yes.” 

“I can give you a bunch of yellows. As a ‘slow down and let me figure out how to tell you what’s wrong.’ Yeah? I might not know how to perfectly express when something’s not working, but I can at least be honest and tell you when it’s starting to happen.” 

He’s silent.  

Perhaps for a moment too long, because it has you anxious. “Will that help?” 

He lets out another breath. And then suddenly your hand is enveloped in his.  

You startle at the unexpected contact, meeting his gaze. He’s giving you another of those small smiles. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think that will help. Thank you.” 

You smile back. Squeeze his hand for a moment before scrambling off the couch, trying to pretend you aren’t psyched out by that one piece of contact. Nervous rambling returns in place of your carefully thought-out confessions. 

“And hey, worry a little less about hurting me. I could be into it.” 

You regret the jest immediately, face pulling into a cringe. Is it too soon to make weird kinky sex jokes? It’s definitely too soon for that, right? 

You escape towards the kitchen. 

Veron is frozen, temporarily shocked out of his budding anguish. 

He laughs. A winded, raspy sound. 

“You-” he glances at you. Shakes his head and stares down at his hands, steepled between his knees. Rubs his face, still smiling. “Sure. Whatever you’re into.” 

“Don’t say that,” you open the pantry. Wielding manic banter to hide your embarrassment. “You don’t know what I’m into.” 

He sits back. Stares up at the ceiling with that small smile at his lips. “I promise I’ve seen kinks far more scandalous than yours.” 

He’s probably right. But the change to the atmosphere is nice, so you let yourself scoff at him in mock indignance. “I might have an unpredictable sex drive and difficulty coming, but I can still be into weird stuff.” 

He lets you make self-depreciating jokes about your kinks, occasionally quipping back until you start lunch and the pair of you fall into companionable silence.  

He joins you on the other side of the counter. Watches you eat. 

You finish your barebones meal and tidy up. You’re ready to call it there. To give him a pat on the shoulder and get back to work.  

He breaks the silence. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you did want me to hurt you during sex.” 

You drop a fork in the sink and let out a groan. “I just managed to break the tension. You really want to build it again?” 

“You’re very kind.” 

“I’m averagely kind. Why don’t we wait until we’ve actually had sex before discussing that kind of stuff.” 

You watch from your peripheral as his whole demeanour changes. The seriousness returns, though his gaze is no longer anxious or fretful.  

“It’s important for me to know my partner’s boundaries. Along with the things they want and enjoy.” 

You don’t quite meet his eye. Partner. The word is pretty intimidating in this context (He’s referring to you, after all). 

But not inaccurate. You’re working together, for better or worse. He’s trying to be forthcoming. And you can appreciate that. So you suck it up and make yourself participate in another hard discussion, this time hunched over either side of your kitchen counter. 

It’s more confronting now. More obvious when you’re avoiding his gaze. 

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself first?” 

Your question only hangs in the air for a moment before Veron shrugs. Eyes brightening at your concession. 

“Well. I like oral sex. I especially like giving it.” 

Your cheeks warm and you hide a smile. Yeah, you’d gathered that much. 

“I like fingering, but have to use magic to get rid of my claws. It’ll probably won’t be worth the energy cost in the coming days.” 

At his words you can’t help but glance in his direction. Peek at his hands.  

“I like touching, and being touched. I’m very tactile. Most stimulus is good stimulus. So if you want to get a bit rough with me you can. Pulling hair, tail, horns. Though when you pull somebody’s tail you should grip close to the base to avoid injuring it.” 

“Like hair pulling,” you add. 

“Like hair pulling,” he nods. Then gestures to his legs, “though my fur is short enough that you’d be hard pressed to not pull near the base.” 

You glance over his shoulder. “What about your wings?” 

They twitch under your stare, the stubby things flexing and unflexing. 

“They don’t get in the way too much. I can put weight on them. But I don’t like to do it for long periods of time. So laying on my back for more than a few minutes gets uncomfortable.” He flexes again, leaning forward so you can see the membranous expanse. They have a wide base, jutting out into prominent stumps and ranging along the slope of his back. Despite this they don’t span any further than Veron can reach his arms, looking more fit for gliding rather than proper flight.  

“Are they sensitive?” 

“Yes,” he tilts is head. “But not particularly erogenous. Still, if you’re going to be rough with them, I’d work up to it. Don’t just yank them around out without warning.” 

You glance up at Veron’s face before looking away again. Making yourself engage with the topic, you clear your throat. “I, uh, feel the same. About roughness. Mostly. In that I don’t mind it, but need to be... eased into it, I guess. Every time, I mean.” 

“Of course. That’s generally how bodies work.” He pauses. “Do you have any other preferences? At least when it comes to the basics?” 

It’s weird to let your mind wander towards sex when you’re having a serious conversation. To actively ask yourself how you want it while trying to maintain appropriate eye contact and body language. 

“Um. I suppose. I don’t mind being gagged or restrained? But not both at the same time.” 

“So you can communicate?”  

“So I can communicate,” you nod.  

“Do you like being gagged or restrained?” He adopts an almost flirty tone. 

You have to drop your eyes again. Shrug. “Yeah, sometimes. It depends on my mood I suppose.” 

“Do you ever dislike being gagged or restrained?” He sounds more curious this time. No longer flirty. Relaxed. 

You’re surprised at the question, and realise you appreciate it too. “Yes. If I’m having a high pain day, bondage can make it worse, or just be very unsexy. And being gagged when my mouth is dry is unpleasant.” 

“Fair enough. Does pain impact your vanilla sex too?” 

You find your answers coming easier now. These are the type of questions you actually wish your previous partners had thought to ask. “It can. Like... if I’m with a spontaneous partner. Being manhandled is hot, but I don’t like it if I don’t know what position they plan to put me in, because I worry it might hurt.” 

He nods, thoughtful, taking a moment before replying. “So what I’m getting is: discuss how you’re feeling before starting any sexual acts, check if there’s anything you distinctly don’t want to do, and communicate before any changes.” 

You take a moment to think it over. Then, “Yeah. That sums it up nicely.” 

“What about your pussy?” 

You sink back into embarrassment. “What about my pussy?” 

“How’s it work?” 

You bark out a laugh at his question. “Like any other, I assume?” 

“You do alright with penetrative sex?” 

“Yeah. I can enjoy it.” 

“Do you like being stretched out beforehand?”  

You’d never considered it before, and shrug. “I mean. If I’m horny, I like foreplay. If I’m just getting my partner off, I rush a bit more. Provided I’m wet enough, I don’t need to stretch.” 

He seems to consider that answer, brow creasing. “Well, I can get you wet easily enough. But I’m a bit bigger than the average human. Will that be a problem?” 

You raise your brow. “I mean. The most I’ve felt is discomfort, at trying to put a toy too far in. So I’ll let you know. But the problem is the other thing. I don’t always get wet enough.” 

“My saliva is literally designed to arouse and lubricate. We should be fine on that front.” 

His frankness might embarrass you any other time. But having him stay calm and serious in the face of an uncomfortable discussion is a relief. 

“What about you?” 

“Hmm?” 

You gesture towards his lower half. “Is demon anatomy different to human?” 

He grins. “Oh. Yeah. Though it varies from species to species. Personally, most of my stuff is internal.” 

Before you have a chance to respond he steps back from the counter, shoves his coat back, and runs his hands up his belly, moving some of the fur out of the way. 

Your eyes fly upwards, practically scandalised. You know he’s been walking around without anything beneath the coat, but you hadn’t tried to get an eyeful. 

“Just a sheath. And my cock pops right out when I get aroused. See?” 

You keep your eyes averted. “A verbal explanation would have sufficed.” 

He lets the coat drop and leans back against the counter. “Right. Sorry.” He looks more sheepish than apologetic. 

You roll your eyes. “So. Do I need to worry about pregnancy? STDs?” 

He regains some seriousness at the topic. “Pregnancy, no. Well. You’re one hundred percent human?” 

“Yes?” 

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Non demons can only get pregnant while they’re in Infernus, as a general rule. And unless I’ve caught a disease from sitting on a toilet seat or whatever, you should be safe on the other front.” 

“That’s a myth you know.” 

“Sure. Point being, I know I was infection-free before,” he gestures towards the balcony, “you know. The world ended. So. Seven weeks ago. And since then I’ve not put my dick inside of anyone. Or put my mouth on anyone for that matter.” 

It wasn’t a large concern, but you can’t deny that it was still there, in the back of your mind. Still, you can’t help but frown. “Have you really gone that long without feeding?” 

He winces. Then shrugs. “I’ve had some... encounters, I guess you could call them. Two of them were more self-defence than feeding. Seducing myself out from a gun to the head. They were both in group settings, and I didn’t feel safe enough to stick around with those survivors. And then, maybe two weeks ago I found somebody else. I... couldn’t do anything to help them. But they helped me. I used up most of my reserves just- ...it was bad. I don’t want to get into it.” 

You give a slow nod. There’s a long moment while you process what he’s left unsaid. While you contemplate just how hard Veron has actually had it. 

You bring your fist to his shoulder. Bump him gently. “It’s been hard for me talking about sex. But, like. It’s not a big part of my life, you know? I can just opt out. I’m sorry you’ve. Literally, got to deal with it. That you’ve had those experiences. That you had to have them.” 

He takes your hand again. Squeezes it. “It’s over now. But thanks.” 

The atmosphere is heavy again, and you wish you could do more to banish the tension. Instead, you push through. “I don’t really have any more questions. Is there anything else you’d like to know?” 

He drops your hand. Adopts one of those flirty smiles. “I mean. We could compare kinks and fetishes. Or, I could joke about putting the things we’ve learned to the test.” 

You squint. “Is that your way of using a pickup line without committing to using a pickup line?” 

He shrugs and the smile turns apologetic. “More like, this is where I’d use the pickup line if I weren’t on sex rations.” 

You can’t help but laugh at his phrasing. 

He blinks and tilts his head. Staring, like he didn’t think he’d been that funny, that he didn’t expect you to laugh at his joke.  

“I trust you’ll think up a new one to use tomorrow, yeah?” 

His eyes soften and he makes a smooth recovery, pulling up another smile. “Sure. One corny pickup line, made to order. I’ll have it ready tomorrow.” 

Next

[nipotazzi]

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. - Chapter 1

"C’mon, Lusk! It's just a little jump!”

“We’ll be here to grab you in case something goes wrong, sweetie!”

The little child looked all the way up there: his mothers were just ahead, he only needed to make a smooth super jump to reach them. He tries to calculate the distance and necessary strength for it, but for some reason, the results are utterly inconclusive.

“No silly math! You just have to do it!”

Silly? Math isn't silly. Still, maybe momma Pearl was right: he just had to try it, if he wanted to succeed.

Lusk takes a deep breath, one of the first behavioral lessons given him by the creator to ease himself to calm… and begins to run, faster and faster with each consecutive step! 

Halfway through, he quickly changes into his very small swim form, then charges the tentacles like a spring… and jumps!

He makes sure to not use his floating abilities in this form to cheat, and while taking this precaution Lusk realizes that he's already far, far high in the air: He's so much faster than gravity! He can do it! He can reach them!! 

He's… slowing down.

He can't do it.

That shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened if…

No. Take a deep breath.

Smollusk knows that they will just say something along the lines of “better than nothing at all,” and that he’ll “get better at it in no time, you just need to try it more.” 

Disheartened, but resigned to such a result, like always, he begins to float towards them in order to avoid the fall.

But something tugs his tentacles.

He looks down, and sees a chain, as long as his sight can go, attached to his body. 

Lusk immediately tries to slip away from it, but nothing happens. His small size cannot handle the sudden extreme weight brought upon it. He searches upwards, starting to grow scared, but the only thing that exchanges his pleading eyes… are the disappointed and clearly annoyed looks on the faces of his mothers.

“C-creator! CREATOR!! HELP ME!”

“...why?”

“W-what?”

“Yeah, why should we?”

Lusk freezes, terrified of the cold tone of her creator.

“Look, Marina! Little kid can't even make a jump this easy. I'm soooo embarrassed to think that we’ve been taking care of such a monstrous failure.”

“Oh, Pearlie, no need to be so rude. We all know that this… mistake… is just one delusion after the other.”

“N-no! No!! I'm not a mistake! I-I’ll be better, I promise! Please!!”

“Are you crying now? Tsk-tsk… how pathetic. Let's go, Rina, don't even look at it.”

“Make way… I don’t want to stay a millisecond longer than I need to.”

“NO! WAIT! WAAIIIITTT!!!”

Lusk falls down, the chain trapping him tighter. It's a bottomless fall, where his screams could echo for eternity. There is nothing else, but the weight of his failures, bringing him down.

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/F

Gen

Fandom:

Splatoon (Video Games)

Relationship:

Marina/Pearl (Splatoon)

Characters:

Agent 8 (Splatoon)

Dedf1sh | Acht (Splatoon)

Pearl (Splatoon)

Marina (Splatoon)

Order | Smollusk (Splatoon)

The Heavenly Melody (Splatoon)

Additional Tags:

Christ(squid)mas special

half wholesome half angst with a good ending

self trauma due to personal delusions

Angst with a Happy Ending

Family Feels

Family Bonding

Family Drama

Family Dynamics

first time moms

Post-Splatoon 3: Side Order

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Language: English

Summary: Pearl and Marina are always trying to be the best moms a kid could ever wish for, and if there is something that they really don't want to mess up… is their Lusk's first experience of the most wonderful time of the year! But will the family be able to help him work trough his own fears at the strongest that they have ever been?

Happy New Year everyone! As always, comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated. Have a good day!

[nightshademyn]

Ok but can we please talk about Athena's Character Development in Epic: The Musical? (EPIC!Athena Appreciation Post)

I've been thinking a lot about Athena's characterization in Epic because Athena is my favorite goddesses in all of Greek Mythology ever since I was a kid, and her songs in Epic are my absolute favorites, and her character arc means so much to me as someone who adores and resonates with her.

I adore her entire arc so much, because it's a lesson I find myself struggling with. My Goodbye is one of my favorite songs, but it's also a song where I don't think Athena is entirely right. I think as much as Odysseus is wrong in completely disregarding Athena's advice, he's right about Athena being prideful and vain in this moment. Because she is! I might be extrapolating a bit from other myths where Athena's pride is fully on display (see Arachne), but in Epic, Athena is too prideful to consider that she might not be entirely right & she's overlooking the very human emotions that Odysseus is going through at the loss of his friends. Because of that pride, she shuts Odysseus out and doubles down in abandoning him. When she begins to consider that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong in the years following, she doesn't seek out Odysseus immediately to acknowledge that she was wrong. Instead, she protects her pride and tries to fix her mistakes by taking on a new mentee (Telemachus). And I think that she does this because admitting you've messed up is difficult! And it's easier to try to fix things in a roundabout way, especially when you mess up at something you're supposed to be an expert in. And in We'll Be Fine, she's still protecting her pride by considering she messed up when talking to Telemachus, which is still easier than directly admitting her mistakes. However, Telemachus is able to help process the fact that she has made a mistake.

"Maybe to fall is to learn one way" is a hard lesson to learn when you’re proud of yourself and the work you do. When you fail at something you’ve whole identity to the way Athena's identity is tied to her expertise in war, it can be soul shattering to come to terms with. It’s hard not to take it as a personal failure or indicative of poor character. It's difficult, but it's important to learn that failing isn’t a personal fault to fail so long as we learn from it and grow, and that’s a lesson I think Athena needed to learn. It's why I resonate with her so much. I was that student who struggled with criticism because I was so proud of my academic successes that any mistakes I made in my schoolwork felt like a personal failure. I see my own pride and flawed sense of identity in her struggles.

Back to the point, it’s why God Games really is a show of how much she’s grown. Post-Cyclops saga Athena wouldn’t have gone through a gauntlet to save Odysseus. She was stubborn and had already doubled down on her insistence that Odysseus failed and therefore they were through. But Wisdom saga Athena, one who’s become wiser by seeing her failure as a learning experience and has set aside her pride to help her friend, did whatever it took to convince Zeus to allow Odysseus to escape Calypso's island, even if it meant facing his wrath.

And finally in her last appearance in ICHBW brings her character arc to a close. She's able to admit in her last conversation with Odysseus that she made a mistake ("I can't help but feel like I led you astray") where in the Wisdom saga, even when speaking to Telemachus, she couldn't directly admit that she had done something wrong, framing her thoughts as a "maybe' instead of a direct acknowledgment ("Maybe if I'd made a different call/Maybe if I hadn't missed it all/ Maybe he'd be fine"). She's able to finally, fully admit to Odysseus's face that she messed up as his mentor in spite of her pride.

TL;DR: I love Athena's character arc and I identify with it so much as someone who also struggles to admit she's messed up in an area she's incredibly proud of and Athena remains my favorite character in the entire show

[drizzerey]

(I will be redrawing this so she has her dress and is properly on her feet. But I have decided this is why he is doing this)

“You need to stop using that on me.” Lann bemoaned, which made Driz laugh.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She said, clear smile on her voice which told Lann, she knew exactly what he was talking about and denied it fully.

“Ever since I pointed it out, you’ve used it on me and it’s not at all fair, I don’t use it on you.” Lann complained, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Turning, Driz laughed. “Oh please, like that would work on me.” she claimed, so sure she was right.

Normally Driz was right, but Lann was fairly confident, and his lips slowly turned up into a smirk. “Oh really?” He challenged.

Driz smirked at him right back, clearly thinking she knew what she was talking about. “Absolutely.” She crossed her own arms, daring him with her green eyes to try and prove her wrong.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Lann shook his head, before he swiftly crouched in front of her, and wrapped his arms around her legs, bringing her flush against him. He looked up at her, trying to make his eyes as big as possible, and while she couldn’t see his mouth as her dress kinda hid it from view, there was no mistaking the sad frown he projected.

Instantly her confident demeanor dropped and Driz could not look away, her cheeks flushing and he knew he won, but he waited patiently for her to admit defeat.

Finally Driz managed to break eye contact and looked away with a pout. “Alright I admit you can.” She ground past her teeth.

“What was that?” Lann asked, trying his best not to let the expression fall yet, but it was hard with how much he wanted to grin up at her.

“You got me with the eye thing!” She huffed and refused to meet his eyes again. “Now stop it!”

Chuckling, Lann nuzzled her leg, dropping the big eyed look. “Are you upset I was right for once?”

“You are right more than once in a while.” Driz snapped. “Just thought I wouldn’t fall for it.”

“Ah, so you’re mad that you’re not as strong as you thought, against the look.” Lann laughed. “If it makes you feel better, there are a lot of looks at my disposal you aren’t strong enough to resist.” Driz crossed her arms and refused to meet his gaze still. “You won’t look at me because you know it’s true.”

“Oh quit rubbing it in!” Driz tried to get out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. “Lann,” She warned.

“Driz,” He purred. Now he was grinning full force up at her.

There was no doubt in his mind that if she truly wanted him to let her go or was not happy with him, he’d probably feel like he was dying in a split second. But Driz, despite her hurt pride, wasn’t going to hurt him. Though she was hanging onto her frustration a lot longer than he thought was normal. “You’re not actually mad are you?”

Sighing, Driz finally met his eyes. “No, I’m not mad. I just don’t like admitting defeat.” Driz said.

“We’re just having fun, I’m not going to hold it against you.” Lann promised.

“I know… I know.” She closed her eyes, before lowering herself so she was more in his lap. Lann settled them more on the ground, hugging her close. “At least you admit you’re cute.”

“Now wait a minute.” Lann protested, he hadn’t expected that.

“It’s the adorable animal look, you called it that long before I did, and you were so determined to prove you could do it. Therefore you’re admitting you are cute!” Driz was smiling up at him, clearly pushing aside whatever dark mood had taken hold of her.

Lann realized he had played himself and he frowned, closing his eyes with a curse. “Just cause I know how to… oh shush you, I am not adorable. You just have a weird perception of what’s cute.” He grumbled.

“You can try to deny all you want,” Driz poked his cheek and giggled when he growled a little. “I got you to admit you’re cute!” 

“Oh yeah, real cute. The ladies can’t get enough of me.” He huffed. It was not like with Driz who had to beat off people with a stick. Lann only ever attracted a few women, and they were all mongrels. Well not counting Driz.

“After the crusade I’ll take you around the world and you’ll see, Mendev is just terrible. I’ll have to start being all possessive.” Driz claimed.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Lann muttered.

Giggling, Driz leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve made a lot of things you thought couldn’t happen, happen. When are you going to start believing me?”

“You said you could resist me, and I just proved you wrong, showing that you can in fact be wrong sometimes.” Lann countered.

“I never once claimed I was always right!” Driz laughed, leaning more into him. No she didn’t think she was always right. Letting out whatever tension he was holding, he rested his cheek against her, snuggling closer and just feeling content with her in his arms.

doing a more sketchy look cause I'm kinda hating on my linework and cell shading right now so doing something a bit more fun for me.

No idea what Lann is asking for here, but Driz is just as bad as he is saying no the other. Also Driz is in her dressed down outfit cause I didn't wanna make her wear a dress and cover up a bunch of the details here.

Also I got some better reference images for Lann's in game model so hopefully this will help keep his look more consistent.

[dex-starr]

I know my brains not really designed to think in s conducive way for some things. Like I’m laying in bed just thinking about the times I got to lay in bed with you.

It’s not like an experience that I’ve had an emotional equal to and I’m sure you’ve had that since then. I know who and when too, but yeah dude I just miss it. I don’t want to give it a try. I don’t think I would even give it a try with you at this point. There’s just a part of my heart that’s extremely weak right now. I wouldn’t be giving my best self or my full self like I was. I don’t know if I know how to.

…like to elaborate on that: I’m being my honest self and saying what I mean but I don’t think I could just reach that level of tenderness. I felt like that was the best I could give and that was not enough given everything else that was going wrong. It’s confusing to get into but it’s something that I need to talk more about.

I think about love a lot and sometimes I just get stuck thinking I don’t really know how to… because I lost it. But I know that’s just me not giving myself room for error. But yeah dude like… there’s just parts of my brain that I just don’t know why it’s going like that; but it do what it does.

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Sorry (not) but I find anyone who acts like Blue is making something out of nothing when she’s mad Adam’s first question is about the kissing to be like. Deeply suspicious. Of course she is mad that’s the first thing he asked her! They’ve been walking on eggshells around each other and not really communicating since the last aborted kiss attempt which is on both of them to some degree, but when he comes around to her it’s only for this and when she has so many fears and insecurities about not properly belonging in the gang because she’s a girl (which is founded based on the fact aside from Noah they’ve all been misogynistic towards her at some point even if it was passive) and not being respected, when she’s also an outsider at home because of a different thing she can’t control. And you can not say that her feeling Adam is treating her like a thing to have and not a person he connects with is unfounded he again literally “I got Blue without you!” screamed at Gansey, consistently going to her after they fight (he did it end of TRB after repugnant too) to validate himself or just generally when he’s falling apart looking for validation from her like in the apartment scene. It’s not a bad thing to seek validation from your partner and in TRB before I’d say the last quarter I think Blue and Adam were genuinely connecting and developing a friendship while also exploring their feelings/attractions to each other, which did always have elements of seeking escape or validation for both of them in different ways, but it’s dissolved into that so much now. And I do think Blue is to some degree mad at Adam because he’s here and available to be mad at when she’s also mad at Gansey for it (I don’t think they’re *in the wrong * for not inviting her but they are in the wrong for not even considering she could want to go or at least want to be in the loop, also even though it’s Gansey’s party if Adam is trying to be her *boyfriend* it was kind of his place to ask her) so she’s conveying anger at Adam when the anger is for both of them, and also more general factors she’s frustrated by, but also Adam has the exact same response of channeling emotions that aren’t solely about Blue through their fights (and to his credit he is self aware that he does this) so again crucifying Blue for it is whack imo. Also to check myself on shipper-brain for the Adam-Gansey aspect of it, well obviously I read that here as a factor because I’m me, but for arguments sake on the premise Adam has No feelings about Gansey that are anything other than platonic Blue would still have a right to be mad about him prioritizing his platonic male friends over her and treating them with more respect, obviously, because misogyny exists (also these are not two contradictory readings in that I think they’re both factors. Signed an Adam Stan).

[floral-hex]

fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.

[rosicheeks]

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