#socks ended up being Correct which like. thank fuck for that.

[earthdeep]

ahhh. I've had a great christmas this year. went over to my sis' for a slightly lowkey afternoon bc she's caught the same nasty cold as the rest of us. but we still did presents and food and trivial pursuit and Bothering her chinchillas (so fucking cute so fucking soft im luv themmmmm)

ended up having christmas dinner at home with just my folks as an evening meal instead which worked fine. was fucking tasty.

so yeah. nice day.

[saddled-on-stars]

Hello! Could you please do movie Beetlejuice with a(n adult) reader summoning him with the only purpose to ask for cuddles? She didn't expect the ritual to actually work and is extremely shy, so when he shows up she's absolutely embarrased for having him come over to do something as mundane as cuddling. Thank you!

Damn y'all are thirsty for Keatlejuice- (NO HATE I SWEAR, It's just that a lot of requests have been for Keatlejuice lmao) I really should watch the movie, lmao- Again, to tell you what I tell others for Keatlejuice and Toonjuice, I can't guarantee that it will be 100% accurate, as I've never watched the cartoon or the movies, but I'm hoping to soon! Please feel free to criticize if it isn't correct! BUT LOWKEY THIS IS SO CUTE I WILL DO MY BEST, DARLING! SORRY IT WAS SO LATE!! Happy reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, *slight* Mentions of Perverted Boss, *subtle* mentions of cycle. -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (This fic is specifically for a female reader!) ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-

- ★ - Summoned Snuggles - ★ -

You're lying face-down on your soft, cool mattress, feeling the soft sheets beneath your fingertips. You groan into your pillow, exhausted from the day it's been; your boss had you working the 14-hour shift instead of your typical 8-hour.

He's already an asshole as it is, he didn't have to make it worse by performing his perverted acts like squeezing your hip and brushing your thigh, which you did not consent to. Ugh, he's such a fucking perv, and you're sick of it.

To top it all off, it's that time of the month for you. Great. Cramps take over your lower abdomen, causing you to hold your stomach tighter, and wince from time to time.

A headache begins to take form in your brain, and it causes you to rub your temples, despite it not doing anything to help the pulsing in your head. Ugh, you just wish this week could end; it's only Wednesday.

Your headache pauses for a brief moment, as a small, simple idea pops into your head, causing a small shy smile to spread across your face. His hugs were always nice. They seemed to erase any pain, mostly mental, but that didn't matter.

You finally saunter out of bed and stumble over to your closet, ready to change out of that fucking itchy uniform, with a button-up white shirt, that shows off your cleavage way too much, the skirt being much too short for your liking at all. You didn't like showing off your body to the public, let alone that nasty boss of yours.

Shutting your closet door, you lock it, afraid as if something were to come in and see you exposed, even though you know full well that there's not. He wouldn't be here unless you summon him.

Finally exiting your closet, after what feels like hours of having to stand with that throbbing headache, you plop onto your bed once more. You're now wearing a pair of comfy fitness shorts, a hoodie that smells like a foggy day in a way, and your favorite pair of fuzzy socks that reach up to just below your knees, providing perfect comfort.

That familiar shy smile returns to your lips, the corners turning up slowly, but that smile quickly fades as a wince comes through, due to another headache-cramp combo. You hold your head, and lean up against the pillows that are leaning against your headboard as you groan in pain. 'Ugh, I really want him here, but I don't want to bother him! What if he's busy? What if he doesn't want to talk to me? Does he even like snuggles?-...', your thoughts say as they wrack your brain. Suddenly, a jolt of confidence flows through you, as if your body's telling you that you need to summon him. Eh, what the heck, you're in a little too much pain to care. What could go wrong?

The bedroom is still dimly lit from the lamp on your nightstand, casting soft shadows on the walls, providing the room with that comforting appearance. You transition your legs to cross in a sitting position on your bed, excited for what's to come.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

You close your eyes and smile, knowing that he'll appear in front of you any second.

"It's showtime~.", you hear his familiar raspy voice say.

You open your eyes to see that startling, yet familiar puff of green smoke, and standing there is your favorite demon boyfriend; or really your only one for that matter.

"Howdy, Babes!", he says with a strange twirl, rather a spin on his heels, but it never fails to amuse you, causing you to giggle. Even though you've seen him countless times, you take in the sight of him.

He's wearing his typical striped suit, still spotted with green spots from here to there, but you don't mind. His hair, still sticking out in all different directions, looks even softer today, causing you to smile. His eyes are their typical deep ocean blue, and it never ceases to make you stare slightly, and those blue orbs still have the black orbs surrounding them outside of the eye.

"Hi, BJ.", you reply with a soft smile, your giggle ceasing, as you begin to fiddle with your fingernails in nervousness.

He notices your actions immediately and comes and sits across from you on the bed, using his finger to bring your head up from your lap.

"Why don't-chya tell me what's wrong, toots.", he says with comforting eyes, which isn't usually like him, but you like seeing this side of him too.

"Just-... A rough day at work, that's all!", you say with a fake smile, trying to brush it off. Oh no, you don't want to seem needy! Not. One. Bit. However, he seems to see right through that smile, and his smile slightly falters.

"Babes. I'm a dead guy. I've fuckin' seen a lot. A LOT. Did ya need me for something specific?"

No, no, no. You really don't want to sound needy, and you also didn't want to summon him for no reason. Oh boy, the truth is the only option left.

"Just-... uhm-...", you stutter as you're now chewing at your fingernails.

"A-Are you alright-... if w-we s-snuggle?"

Your eyes are squeezed shut, so much that you aren't able to see him extend his arms and pull you into his lap. You're startled at first, but eventually open your eyes, to see him with his back to the headboard, and he's inviting you to lay your head on his torso.

This is comfy for you. It feels like home, in ways you could never describe with words. Without another thought, grateful that he accepted your request, you let your arms wrap around his stomach, causing his hand to rub circles on your back.

"I gotchya, Babes. I've always gotchya."

"I know you do.", you reply as you snuggle deeper into his chest. "I love you, BJ."

"I love you too, Babes."

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[courtingchaos]

Rent the Space Inside My Mind

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I PT 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Boy, Eddie sure is head over heels for you, and is also a teenage boy. Wonder what he's thinkin' about this time?

A/N: This is actually a part of part 3. It was longer but i'm having a hard time figuring out a good end and this one had it. Short like part 1, but there's still more to come and a lot quicker this time too. The holidays really got the best of me, sorry for the wait!

Warnings: 18+ (lil babies go on, git.), getting spicier but not like, anything filthy (we're getting there).

Eddie is fully willing and able to admit that he’s being an asshole in this situation, but like, just not yet. 

December had flown by and for a whole god damn month he had managed to not only get it in multiple times with one of the prettiest cheerleaders Hawkins had to offer, he’d also gotten to spend a significant (and close) amount of time with you. Every morning had been spent in usual routine of his hands in your coat pockets, your scent trailing him while he walked to first period. 

And, y’know, It wasn’t like he could do this with Gwen. He was positive he’d get his ass kicked if he laid a hand on her in public, and it wasn’t even like he really wanted to huddle with her like he did with you. 

And therein lie the problem. 

While Gwen was fun (so much fun) she just wasn’t you. 

And no matter how many times she’d sucked his dick (it’s been six, he’s got the mental tally going), or invited him to climb into her room, or slid into the back of his van, it didn’t actually matter because on the whole of it: 

She. Wasn’t. You. 

He’d been waiting to find fault, honestly counting the days down at one point, because it was bound to happen. She would finally slip and say something abhorrent to him. Something about his music or his club or, the worst, his life in general. He thought you’d be the trigger this time, considering how often Gwen brought you up. 

“So your friend, the conjoined twin.”

“What about her?” He’s kissed halfway down Gwen’s stomach, pausing to look up at her. He has no fucking clue which way this is going and he’ll be god damned if he’s got fingers in underwear if it’s mean. Hackles raised and-

“She’s like, really funny.” Oh thank god. 

“Oh she’s a riot. You should hear her and her friend Jackie get going. They got a whole bit about being Stepford Wives that’s actually pretty clever.”

“I’ve never seen that.” The course correct is strong; he wants so badly to explain that it’s a book as well. He instead reminds himself of the naked girl under him and becomes intimately acquainted with her bellybutton.  

“She’s like, so good at making people laugh. I think she would have made a great cheerleader.” Gwen is a little toasted, propped up in the back of Eddie’s van while he kisses down her neck and tries to avoid the joint she’s waving haphazardly around his head. His fingers have crept up to the button on her jeans and she’s dazedly helping him pull them open. 

“I’ll have to tell her that, she’s gonna laugh her ass off.” And he sure as shit will, as soon as he can get the image that has just been borne into his mind, out. You? In a cheer uniform? He’s clutching his metaphorical pearls over the idea of you in nothing but the cardigan and the bobbie socks, all pliant and willing and on your knees with his fingers pressed in your mouth-

“Oh? You talk about me a lot?” Gwen is looking down at him all soft and open and he feels guilty for a second. 

Focus, asshole. You got real girl in front you. 

“All the time.” He wonders if she can hear the white lie in that. 

“Why’d you call her Sam?” Gwen asks this in a kind of airy way, like she’s trying not to care. Eddie catches the tone, tries to explain as easy as he can. He feels like he’s trying to keep a horse calm. 

“Samwise.”

“What?” He doesn’t want to roll his eyes but she asks so quickly, like she doesn’t want to actually listen.

“Samwise. He’s one of the Hobbits from Lord of the Rings. Frodo’s best friend.”

“And that’s you?” She’s smiling again. 

Crisis averted, filly is calm. 

“I like to think so.” There’s a self depreciating ring to that but Gwen doesn’t hear it. Sidles up to him and grabs his vest to pull him closer. They are very obviously out of eyeshot of anyone of any importance. 

“I’ve never read it before.”

“I could read it to you next time I come over.” He runs a fingertip down the side of her face, pushes some strands of hair back. They’re silky and straight and blonde and he likes how it catches the light. 

Nothing like your’s though. 

“Will we have time for that?” She’s trying to be coy but she hasn’t quite got the foundations of being sexy down. Eddie grins, his soft spot for naive preps seeping through. 

“Baby there’s always time for hobbits.”

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For her to come fully out of her woodwork and ‘Carrie’ him, to borrow your phrasing.

“No, not her as Carrie. You as Carrie.”

It’s what’s kept him from admitting to himself that he’s being an asshole about this whole thing. She’s actually just…nice. She’s flippant about them sure, but for the same reason he is.

It ain’t that serious. 

He can’t deny he isn’t having fun with Gwen but it’s literally just sex and weed.

If he was better with his own emotions, he wouldn’t have let this go on for so long. It’s not like he’s deluded himself into thinking him and her are dating, but she’s gotten comfortable with him. It’s been so easy lately for her to call, drip the suggestion of sex down the phone line and wait approximately 15 minutes for him to pop through her window. 

And yeah sure, woe is Edward Munson, 18 year old social outcast, fucking around on the regular with one of the popular girls. He isn’t expecting any laurels and accolades for his heroism here, but he did think he had a little less cowardice in him. 

If he could just figure his shit out with you, then he’d be golden. 

You, both the figurative and literal woman of his dreams. 

The denim clad goddess, the pit dwelling priestess, the nerd loving oracle! 

You, who always had his back. 

You, who never cared when he whined about his girls or his games or his guitar. 

You, who had hung around longer than anyone he could remember. 

You, who was his best friend. 

Ah, the other problem. 

If there was one thing Eddie refused to do, it was ruining the best friendship he’d ever had by thinking with his dick. 

…Even if he really did want you to like, maybe consider his dick. He’s been told more than once that it’s great! (Big even! But he’ll get back to that…). Hell, he’s even 5 for 5 by his own mental scoring in bringing all the girls he’s been with to their screaming highs. Multiple times in the same night!

I’m a pleaser, sue me. 

None of them really matter at the end of the day though, when he’s alone and lonely. The whole trailer vacant and dark and quiet save for his music playing softly from the tape deck. He’s running his finger along the edge of the sacred polaroid like he’s trying to summon you right out of it. 

All of his past experience boils down to practice in this moment. 

Practice for when he can get his head out of his ass and just tell you how he really felt. 

Practice for when he’ll hold your head in his hands and whisper his feelings right into your open mouth. Tilt your head back and dip his tongue in, lick your own confessions right out of you. He knows he could do it too, he’s heard all about your exploits. Half assed fucking in the backseats of too small cars and not one asshole to even try and go down on you! 

And what a crying shame that is. 

God, I’d treat you right.

Eddie knows the warmth of thighs pressed up around his ears, fingernails running running running over his scalp, hands pulling at his curls. Knows the little sighs, the shivers that run up a spine when he licks right up their hot center, tongue dipping inside for a taste. Knows how to roll the flat of his tongue right up to that little pink button and go in for the kill. The way hands will grab at anything they can find purchase with and hold on while they come sighing and squealing and moaning his name EddieEddieEddie! 

All that’s just been practice for you. 

He’s driving himself insane thinking about your legs wrapped around his head, fingers dug into his hair, chanting above him. The low timber your voice gets when you’re Very Concentrated. 

It’d be his pleasure, and his alone, to waste an hour or two between those thighs making a mess out of you. He’d bury his fingers in your cunt and find that spot, the one he knows will make you see galaxies. The one that’d make you lock his head in place with your legs. He’d be relentless in his pursuit of your orgasm (and your second and third and fourth), have you whimpering and moaning and loud for him. 

Eddie knows he’s truly good at a few things in life, and this is one he prides himself on. 

The thought of you trembling undone under his hands is the catalyst for him to finally drop the picture and reach down under his sheets to let his dick free. Four quick strokes is all it takes and he’s coming, eyes rolled so far into the back of his head he sees white. His breath catches in his throat and he can hear himself letting out a low whine, warmth splashing over his stomach. When he floats down to a more even breathing he picks up his shirt from beside his bed to wipe himself off and can feel the plummeting beginning to take hold. 

Oh here it comes.

For all of his grandstanding by himself in the dark, he’s not going to grab you round the head and kiss you stupid. Post jerkoff clarity is settling in and reminding him of who he is. Which is your friend first and foremost, and also someone who has never quite grasped how to vocalize his emotions. Someone who’s still being led by the dick by a nice set of eyes in a pleated skirt. Someone who’s gonna get tossed to the side once prom season gets into full swing. Eddie covers his eyes with his forearm, takes a few deep breaths and wills the stinging in his eyes to go away. A new kind of shaky breath fills the quiet of his room and if he lets himself cry for a while it’s a secret between him and the four walls. 

~

Later when he’s outside letting the cold air clear out his lungs after his cigarette, his red face cooling in the night, he has his come to jesus moment. He’d decided after his little crying spell that he’d break it off with Gwen. It’s not like he was going to be her date for anything (not that he even really wanted to), and not like he’d ever even consider going to something as conforming as prom. 

And they weren’t even serious! 

So, he cuts her loose, she gets to look like the good guy and he’s free again. 

Free to hang out with you and go to shows, go eat and drink and get high and share smokes. 

Free to get his shit together and finally sit you down for a little talk. If he couldn’t find the balls to breathe his confession into you the way he fantasized about, then he could put coherent thought to paper with pen and write himself a little speech. 

💕Tag List💕

@edsforehead, @fracturedarkness, @munsonsguitarpick, @bebe0701

Thank you! You're all amazing!

[barzzal]

Be warned this is gonna be long i apologize in advance, but this is all just me giving a massive kudos to you and your work. I’m so happy to see this updated thank you for your hard work and talented writing.

*inhales*

*exhales*

After reading interlude ii for CMC and as usual I loved it to bits but also I AM SUDDENLY CONFLICTED? With BOTH SIDES????? The whole time I was like “Yeah Sidney take the fucking L” but now that we have the full detailed story of how it led up to that moment, suddenly the situation is so much more complicated. HE ACTUALLY WAS READY AT THE LAST MOMENT OH GOD HE WAS GOING TO DO ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING TO MAKE IT UP TO HER AND THE BABY HE WAS READY TO BE A PARTNER AND DAD-

And now my head is in my hands as I think: ‘Oh my god. Reader didn’t give him a chance to be a dad to Lucas for NEARLY SEVEN YEARS (even though she was justifiably pissed at him) AND HE THOUGHT HIS BABY WAS GONE’

And, please hear me out. The pregnancy and the actual birth of the baby are two different parts of the process. It’s different for everyone, but sometimes it takes a few weeks or months for the parents to feel a connection with their baby once they’re born; It’s actually quite common among parents. Same goes for the pregnancy term. It’s fucking scary, raising a child; You’re not just living your life for yourself, you’re living your life for the best interest of your child. And while there’s absolutely no excuse for Sid and his emotional distance/neglect (believe me when I say I still want to sock him in the face for his initial reaction), it does bring perspective at to why he reacted that way. Correct me if I’m wrong, but he was scared that his commitment to his career would end up hurting his kid, not being able to be there for them. Of course, dumbass man sucked at communicating that to Reader properly huh

But he did come back. He did return. He was ready to begin repenting. Lucas wasn’t even born yet and he was ready to do right by him and Reader both.

Suddenly I am now in full panic mode because once Lucas gets older enough to question why did his mom keep him away from his dad if both parents loved and wanted him from the start. And I know reader said in previous chapters that everything she did was for her son and his happiness and safety which is an absolute HELL YES THAT’S WHAT BEING A PARENT IS ABOUT, but did she ever consider the possibility that keeping them both hidden away from Sid would potentially hurt all of them more than it would help? Lucas never got to meet the other side of the family; Troy and Trina never got to be grandparents, Taylor never got to be an aunt. They weren’t able to see Lucas grow up, and I just know they would’ve loved him the moment they were told of his existence.

Am I allowed to feel angry at both Sid and Reader? I am so sorry I… just love this story so much, I’ve never felt so many emotions reading before. Please correct me if I’m wrong in any way.

first of all, ily oh gosh. i never expect a comment this long from anyone but omg thank you!! i appreciate you taking the time to lmk which part/s u like/impacted u most 🥺 not lying when i say i was smiling as i read it entirely it’s truly fulfilling to come across a reader as passionate as u so endless thanks my dear 🫶🏻

second, ALL FEELINGS ARE VALID! i honestly can’t wait for them to be happy why can’t they just sit together and talk things out it’s not that hard 😭 had enough of little lukey having to bear poor adult choices!!

to clarify tho, since i’ve been mia on here and on the updates, the series was supposed to be done in 2022 😫 so our timeline for cmc would be that it’s still 2021 going 2022 (refer to teaser #3).

for everyone to be on the same page, allow me to recapitulate:

april 2015

refer to teaser #1

sidney is 27 yrs. turning 28 yrs. in aug

reader is 26 yrs.

first month of summer, 2015

june: reader finds out she’s pregnant

july: miscarriage scare; sid and reader break up before kris’ wedding

post breakup, 2015-2016

sidney wins the cup, oct 2015 to june 2016

post breakup, 2016

january: luke is born on 6th of january (kind of like his dad’s bday 8.7.87 = 1.6.16)

post breakup, 2016-2017

sidney wins another cup, oct 2016 to april 2017

post breakup, 2019

reader moves back to pittsburgh; hides sid’s son

post break up, 2021 [we’ll go back to this timeline on ch. 6]

sidney is 33 yrs. going 34 yrs. (refer to teaser #2)

reader is 31 going 32

luke is 5 yrs. a few months older than geno’s son, nikita

minimum age requirement for sid’s little penguins hockey is 5 yrs.

luke enters hockey program, meets sidney; sidney meets luke and reader

timeline for ch. 6 until stated otherwise

ANYWAY, i’m so excited we’re now on the second half of the series!!! ✨and the plot thickens✨

[thatsuncleharrytoyouyoungman]

anxiety really is so senseless. i was still in pain probably even more when i got to uni so i didnt go straight to the building w/ my class bc idont usually anyways n i wasnt sure if i was gonna skip class anyways. but i was feeling so ill even if i skipped i likely wldnt hv done anything productive so i went late. n the joy the new teacher wasnt there she was running late. so the regular old teacher had us discuss in pairs as he usually does n oh the person im most comfy speaking with was there so we discussed n like it was good on my part i mean not fluent but a lot better than my stumbling n blanking out and i had ideas and was able to respond to her and it was an actual convo. now while we are discussing in pairs the regular teacher joins each pair to discuss w/ them hear their ideas make corrections etc it's all chill. he was coming by our pair last. oh no longer joy like 20 mins b4 class ends n right as he wldve come by us the new teacher walks in. there were two remaining pairs he took the other set and left her with us. instantly i became closed in i cldnt look up started fidgeting cldnt speak cldnt think. my 'fluid' 'elaborate' responses from b4 became short and with pauses where i blanked. i felt so bad bc it was so obvi n i cldnt look at her at all. n it was like none of tht was intentional i felt so stupid god. and worse yet my pair was getting along with her so well so she ended up just mostly looking at her tho still adressing us as ustedes and i managed once to offer up a short not asked for comment tht was relevant to the discussion sigh. then she saw my socks bc yh i wear colourful socks n she said she liked them n i felt worse bc i cld just mumble thank you sigh. ugh. whatever im not going next week bc i wont be at uni so it's fine. it's just ugh like ppl are always like just speak just do this just do that. ANXIETY IS NOT THAT FUCKING EASY DIPSHIT! and it feels stupid being aware n feeling your body and brain go thru these changes suddenly and not be able to do anything about it like sigh. and it's literally just like she's new and i didnt expect tht so it caught me off guard last week and then she went on to embarrass me in front of everyone so like now there's def anxiety abt tht encounter. but it's still like i just need some time to get accustomed to her. after taking so long to get accustomed to the class with the old teacher yk. like yh hving a brain tht works differently than the situational norm is frustrating fr. and she's also the type of teacher tht makes me anxious bc she's very loud n expressive and jokey which is nice n all but that's not me with my flat affect n takes too long to understand the joke or not realize or react as expected when smth is directed at me in a light hearted jokey manner. which makes me feel worse n like i am notably putting a damper on the class even tho it's not intentional it's just who i am. it's not to say i dont appreciate the atmosphere i just cant participate in it sigh. whatever.

[joshslater]

The Cards

Attempting to repost stories previously flagged as too risqué for tumblr. This is some sort of story based on captions made by Himbo Heaven. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.  

"And it has to be one of these four?" you ask the man in the armchair across your coffee table. "We've been over this already. Just make your decision," he says, not even looking up from the device in his hand. You make a defeated sigh and pick the top card from the stack.

Thank God it comes with dumb, you think as you can't imagine living like that and keeping your wits about you. Deep down you wouldn't mind looking better, you know that. It's not like you are remarkably ugly. At worst you could be described as unremarkable, but handsome people have always behaved in a way that annoyed you. Like they got this genetic gift and act like they are better than everyone. The irony here is to get it literally gifted, or forced rather, to become the ultimate end of vain entitlement. No, you correct yourself. There was that "made to fulfill" part too, which makes you conflicted because it somehow makes it better holistically while also being worse personally. An ornamental slut eager to please. Frustrated you throw the card down on the table and pick the next one.

This is even less appealing to you. The first one at least had some air of luxury, but this is just crude. Even the description doesn't bother with any sophistication but simply states "Dude, bro". You've worked hard to never be anyone's dude or bro. There should be a comma after "socks" shouldn't it? And another one after caps. Why did it have to say "dumb"? Actually, that whole last run-on sentence sounded pretty horrible. You throw the card on top of the first one in disgust, though it glides almost to the middle of the table before it settles. You're trying to shake the mental image of socks, caps, and a locker room with sweaty athletes having sex with each other.

"Do they all have to be so vulgar?" you ask, but the man ignores the question, still staring at his device. You pick the third card from the stack and suppress a laugh.

That's not going to happen, is it? Just imagine being one of those sex-obsessed people, always trying to score, always making innuendos and flirting. Such a life would be so lacking, with no art, no literature, no real human connections, no science, no awe for the wonders of the world, no plans for how to make the world a better place. Just...

"One more minute then I'll pick one for you," the man interrupts. You throw the card next to the other two and pick up the last one.

Finally something without sex in the text, but then it has "Slut" right there in the title. In a way this is just the jock again, but worse in almost all aspects. None of the aesthetic part, no hints of any life outside of the gym or team or friends, and unlike the jock text an unqualified reduction in intelligence. If the last one's life sounded empty, this one is even more tragic.

"Fuck it! I'll take..."

Trophy Boy

It's the one with the softest landing after all. Sure, some people would be weirded out by a meticulously sexualized and objectified man, but there must be so many who'd love to care for him.

The man in the armchair nods and makes a slight motion with his hands. You recognize the scent of lavender, no its cum, no bubblegum, no lube. It's over so quickly you think you must have been mistaken. You feel warm, not in a feverish way, but as if you've been out in the sun a tad too long. You're thirsty but can't resist licking your lips. Your lips feel different. Your mouth feels different. Did the transformation already start? You're just about to ask him when your clothes turn to powder, perhaps more like sand than flour, because it falls off you cleanly to reveal the smooth, tan, perfect skin of your toned arms. A swirl of pride, horniness, and disgust wash over you as you trace the rest of your meticulously toned body with your gaze.

You lick your lips again. Your mouth is lacking something. Shouldn't there be something happening to you? Some sort of change, for some reason you can't quite recall. You think of bubblegum. Your mouth lacks bubblegum! There's a man you don't recognize getting up from an armchair, reaching for some cards at the table next to you. Or a lolly. A pink strawberry lolly to suck on. "Who are you?" you ask the man. He's fit, dressed in plain but expensive clothes. You stare at his groin as he collects the cards. A dick! Your mouth is lacking a dick to suck on. "It doesn't matter. You won't see me again," the man says and heads towards the door. "Aww," you whine and try to make a sad face, pouting your lips. There's a big glass bowl with strawberry lollies on the table though, so you stand up, adjust your thong, and head over there to find something to suck on. If only they made them cum flavored.

Jock

Once the transformation is done, this must surely be the best option. To be surrounded by teammates that support each other. Bro culture may be toxic from the outside, but as a dumb member it must be great.

The man in the armchair nods and makes a slight motion with his hands. Your eyes widen as knowledge rush into you, rules for sports you barely knew existed, famous players, games from history, not just who won or lost, but where it was played, who was in it, the notable swings of fortune. You know not just the rules, but how to apply them in practice, what to do differently when the grass is wet or when the sun is in your back. You know how to save every second when putting on football pads. You know what underwear chafes, what fabrics are good for running, how to pour out the contents of your training duffel on the floor so all the sweaty clothes dry over night. You know how to pace yourself in beer pong to come out winning more often than not, and how to cure hangover the day after in time for training. You know how to suck your bro's dick to keep him on the edge for as long as possible. You know how to recognize how many shots into the evening the teammates will let you make out with them with sloppy kisses. You know how to move your body to keep your bros inside you for as long as possible, and have them come back for seconds once they've creamed inside of you and recharged.

"What the fuck!" you gasp, as if gasping for air. As if you were drowning in knowledge you didn't want in the first place. You're panting heavily, frantically scanning the room with your eyes as if you've just woken up from a nightmare. You see the man across the room, sitting in the armchair, and suddenly you're reminded of what is happening. The cards, the choice, the transformation. Only you haven't transformed. You look the same as when you came in through the door from school. Doing what though?

You struggle to remember anything that happened during the day. You can't even remember what school you are attending, or what subjects. You glance at the wall clock and know there is basket on ESPN in 40 minutes. You desperately don't want to know that. You look around the room for any hints of what you are studying, of who you really are. You only see a line of football gear strewn on the floor, giving off a faint odor of sweat and liniment cream.

Your panting isn't coming down though, but instead is intensifying as if you were sprinting. You've been too confused and preoccupied to notice just how profusely you're sweating. You feel it one of the legs first, but within seconds you are cramping all over your body. Not just like a big ball of tensed muscle, but fading in and out all over the body seemingly randomly. You try to get out of your seat, but collapse on the floor writhing in pain and convulsions. Eventually the cramps begin to subside and you are aware that the only remaining discomfort is where your too tight clothes cut into you when you move. You're also aware that someone is walking around above you, getting ready to leave your apartment.

"Dude. Fuck me..." you exhale as you roll on your back, exhausted and soaked in sweat, waiting for your heartbeat to go down.

"Many will," you hear someone answer before he closes the door behind him.

Cumdump

It's the only one where you don't lose your smarts if the texts can be trusted. A smoking hot body and boosted libido must be possible to work with.

The man in the armchair nods and makes a slight motion with his hands. You feel both your butt cheeks spasm quickly, as if you flexed your muscles there for half a second. Then it happens again. And again. Every five seconds or so there's a contraction of your butt muscles. Then the fourth time it's followed by a quick clenching of your sphincter. Same with the next one. It's like involuntary kegel exercises. You can feel the contractions getting deeper each time, as if you are clenching harder or more muscles are involved. By the tenth or so contraction it's like a wave that travels from your butt muscles through your ass and out your dick. You can feel an erection slowly building, but the whole thing doesn't feel sexual in any way. It's just like an annoying hiccup. One you imagine would prevent you from walking.

It goes on for minutes and you are just about to ask the man how long this would take, if something is wrong, or if you were required to do something, when the contractions suddenly expand both up and down. You feel your thighs flexing as well as your abs. Every contraction is reaching further away into your body, like a ripple of flexing muscles, always starting from your butt cheeks. You're starting to feel fatigued around your ass and shift around to get more comfortable when you hear a short, ripping sound. It's your underwear you realize. Standing up would be unthinkable with the incessant muscle contractions, so you are limited in what you can do in between the increasingly violent flailings, but you manage to discover that your ass has been growing into a bubble butt, explaining the wardrobe failure. You scoot down into a half-sitting position that is at least closer to comfortable.

You don't know if the frequency had been increasing all along or not, but the thrusts throughout your body happen much faster now, every two seconds or so. The ripple of contractions has extended to basically cover your entire body, all the way down to your feet and all the way up your chest, neck, and out your arms. There's barely any time between one wave being finished and the next one starting. While your dick started out just getting hard it is now radiating horny energy. You're making a small, short moan for every contraction, more of a yelp really, but it is when the wave hits your dick you make the sound.

Then suddenly one wave, once it hit the throat, bounced back down the chest. It goes on a while like that until slowly, slowly the contractions drift out of sync with each other that it's really two different waves. One from the ass and out and one from the throat and down. They are timed differently and drift in and out of phase with each other.

This just goes on and you lose track of time. If asked you wouldn't be able to tell if it had been an hour or four. At some point you just gave up on trying to do anything about it, other than inching into the best possible position. You stopped trying to make sense of it, why it was happening, when it would stop. You just are.

"This is the one I enjoy the most," the man in the armchair says.

Startled you look at him, snapped out of your trance, and everything stops. No more waves of contractions. At some point you had shifted position to just lie on your back with your bent legs up in the air, arms behind your neck. You're confused to see silky smooth legs, shaved cock and balls, and smooth abs glazed in precum from all the droplets have have been flung around. You're just as much confused because you are naked as the fact your body looks like it does. But most surprising of all is the emptiness your feel from the lack of the pounding in your ass and your throat. The deep craving you feel to have that continue and the pervasive horny feeling that is like nothing you have ever experienced before. You know of course what was done to you. You selected the card.

"Why?" "All the other options are just stupidly content with what they become. You on the other hand have a whole journey of coming to terms with it at your own pace. That's why nothing in your apartment has changed." "Perhaps I am content?" you say as you sit back up properly on your new, plump ass and tentatively try to squeeze them to get back the feeling of being thrusted. You reek of sweat and cum after what essentially were hours of being ghost fucked.

He smiles a wry smile. "Well, you can stay with this decor if you want. Or, if you want me to fuck you, I can give you the cumdump interior and wardrobe." "Fuck me!" you say without hesitation.

Muscle Slut

It wouldn't be the first time someone would be fixated on getting the perfect body, and there's a lot of money to be made if you just play your card right. It's the only grown-up decision really.

The man in the armchair nods and makes a slight motion with his hands. You feel a flash of heat, like when stage pyrotechnics go off at a concert, but without any blinding light. No light at all, just a quick, searing heat that instantly begins to mellow out. You look at one of your arms and see it is deeply tanned, not quite hazel nut, but not far off, and completely smooth as if you've waxed it. It almost looks shiny to you as you turn the arm in the soft light of the apartment. You can easily imagine how it would look with some oil on, how it would bring out the contrasts. Heck, even a moderate sweat would send you glistening like a well-polished wood carving.

Fascinated you open and close your hand, watching the tendons and muscles work just beneath the skin on the inside of your forearm, creating ridges for the light to play with. One of the veins catches your attention as wraps around to the other side of your arm. You turn it and are surprised by all the veins snaking up and down the arm. It's exciting though, and mesmerizing. While still looking intently at the arm as you twist and turn it and your hand, you begin stroking your groin. Your arm never interested you this much before. Clearly not, because you never realized before how beautiful your veins are, or that you even had them.

You start to tension the muscles in your arm, as much as you can. You have never flexed before in your life, so you are not sure how to do it. To your disappointment not much happens. Perhaps you are imagining it, but the veins on the arm look even more pronounced. You make another attempt to flex the arm, this time with a bit more proper technique and your eyes widens as you see the response. The bicep bulge is like you've never seen it before. You fumble with your other hand to get it into your pants and underwear to fully grip your erect cock, but you don't want to look away from your arm. You don't want to miss a thing, as you relax and flex it again. This time it grows even larger than the last. Transfixed you flex and relax, flex and relax over and over, just admiring how the skin moves over the muscles, the shape and size of the football sized bulge, and how the light gives it all the most beautiful shimmer you've ever seen.

Suddenly a fear wash over you that you are just focusing on one part of your body, and not looking at the whole. How all body parts should be in proportion with each other, and balanced between both sides. Almost in panic you stop jerking off at inspect your other arm. "Fucking ace!" you shout as you see your other arm is just as muscular, just as bronzed, just as vascular, and just as beautiful as your first arm. You flex both arms into a front double biceps pose, and just wished you had a mirror in front of you.

You look down at your body. Your naked torso shows large pecs jutting out over a strong core with abs that look good even sitting down in this position. Below that your rock-hard dick hangs out of your body hugging trunks that cling to your ass and massive legs. You see a lot to be proud of, but just as much that needs work.

But you do have a mirror in front of you. There's one in each room of the apartment save for the kitchen. You tuck your dick back into the trunks, jump up and approach the mirror. You want to go through your competition program before hitting the gym.

"I trust you'll be all right then," said the man you had forgotten about. "No, I'll be the best," you answer, not looking away from the mirror and your side chest pose.

[illusionsofdreaming]

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

[itadorisgf]

Hello! I dont know if your event is already full or not because your last update was a few hours ago. If it still has a slot for one more, may i please request megumi touching you (not in a sexual way, just like platonically / romantically) to get your attention? I think this was from the first promt. Thankyou!

— fushiguro megumi + touching you to get your attention

⤷ anonymous asked: Hello! I don't know if your event is already full or not because your last update was a few hours ago. If it still has a slot for one more, may i please request megumi touching you (not in a sexual way, just like platonically / romantically) to get your attention? I think this was from the first prompt. Thank you!

note: this turned into a whole fic…the part where gumi touches you to grab your attention is rather brief, but i still hope u like this!!

ft. fushiguro megumi

warning: gn!reader, second-year!reader, fluff, blood, pre-relationship so pining!reader

⤷ the flower shop

You are going to kill Gojo-Sensei.

Your mouth flattens into a tight line, brows pinching together to form a deep crease, as your grip on your phone tightens. The bright image pulled up on the screen of your handheld device is the cause for your ire. It’s one of a series of images that Gojo-Sensei has sent to your group chat with your fellow Second-Years of Fushiguro Megumi looking worse for wear. Though the images are all rather blurry, you can clearly make out the injured state Fushiguro’s in: his uniform is dirtied and his face is scraped up with what looks like fresh blood streaming down from his hairline. You’re sure Maki will get a kick of Fushiguro getting his ass handed to him, but you’re more concerned about Fushiguro’s current physical state.

He must not be too severely injured if Gojo-Sensei is texting you Second-Years pictures of Fushiguro all beaten up. This should help alleviate your stress, but it doesn’t. Your gut still churns uncomfortably at the thought, at the image, of Fushiguro injured, seriously or not.

You exit the images to view the chat. You roll your eyes at Gojo’s text message, which accompanies the many pictures he sent of Fushiguro.

Gojo-Sensei: Look who got beat up!!!

As a teacher, he really shouldn’t sound so thrilled at the prospect of his student getting injured, but then again, Gojo-Sensei’s not exactly a respectable teacher in your eyes. Your eyes scan the rest of the messages from your classmates. Given the time difference, you would guess that Yūta is most likely busy with his day right now all the way on the other side of the world, hence his lack of response. You make a mental note to shoot him a text soon and check in on him. You know Yūta well enough to know that he’s probably running himself ragged. Toge’s in the middle of a mission right now, which only leaves Panda and Maki available to reply to Gojo-Sensei’s message.

You were correct in your assumption that Maki would be pleased with the pictures, her text asking if Gojo-Sensei managed to get a video of Fushiguro getting beat up. Panda echoes that sentiment by responding with arrows pointing upward underneath Maki’s text. Your thumbs hover over your keyboard, contemplating if you should reply or ignore the chat.

“Is Fushiguro alright?” You hit send before you can overthink and toss your phone onto your nightstand. When your phone loudly pings, you scramble in the dark to grab it, unlocking your phone to view the response. You flip onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow with a loud muffled groan.

Maki: Aw, are you worried about your lover boy?

You should’ve never confided in Maki about your small crush on Fushiguro. Well, it’s not like you were the one to bring it up. When Maki had casually slipped into your conversation that it’s gross how much you resemble a lovesick puppy around Fushiguro, you were taken aback and attempted to refute her observation. However, your best friend knows you like the back of her hand and bluntly stated that it’s obvious you’re pining for Fushiguro. You winced when she told you that. Was it really that obvious? The pointed look she gave you in return confirmed that yes, it was that obvious. Luckily for you, Fushiguro is one of the densest people you know when it comes to the realm of romance so to your knowledge, he’s still completely clueless to your feelings.

Your classmates all know of your feelings for the First-Year, but they don’t meddle in your love life. The most they do is tease you or give you knowing looks, which you brush off as quickly as you can while you try to rein in the resulting heat that floods your face. No, it’s not your classmates you have to worry about. It’s your idiot of a Sensei who has nothing better to do with his life than to concern himself with his students’ love lives despite being the strongest Sorcerer there is. If you could, you’d sock him right in the gut for the number of times he’s attempted to push you and Fushiguro together. The awkwardness that came from those experiences still makes you want to crawl into a hole whenever you think about it for too long.

The vibration of your phone in your hand draws you out of your thoughts. You grimace when you read the text message.

Gojo-Sensei: Don’t worry!!!! Your lover boy is alright, but I bet he’d feel better if you checked in on him. ;)

You can clearly envision Gojo-Sensei’s glee on the other end of the phone. The man feeds off of embarrassing his students. You opt not to respond anymore, clicking out of the application and turning off your phone. Gently placing your phone onto your night stand, you tug your comforter up to your chin and close your eyes for the night.

Perhaps, you will check in on Fushiguro later.

“Oi, quit zoning out.”

You groan in pain when Maki sharply jabs you in the stomach with the end of her wooden bo staff. She gives you an unamused look when you toss a harsh glare her way.

“I’m not zoning out,” you mutter, readjusting your grip on your respective staff to continue the light sparring session you and Maki are engaging in. She doesn’t bother to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she counters your strike, easily knocking your staff out of your hands. You’re quick in your attempt to grab your staff again, but Maki cleanly sweeps your legs out from under you, sending you crashing face first in the dirt.

“Right, and Mai and I have a wonderful relationship,” She sarcastically says, digging one end of her bo staff into the ground and leaning her weight against it. “He’s fine, you know? You shouldn’t worry so much about him. You should be more worried about me kicking your ass.”

You loudly whine when Maki brings him up and flop onto your back to gaze up at her. “Who said I’m worried about Fushiguro?” You childishly huff, propping yourself up and leaning back onto your forearms. Your expression scrunches up in distaste as dirt uncomfortably sticks to your sweaty skin.

Though you’re attempting to deny it, of course, you’re worried about Fushiguro. Although Maki already knows how you feel about the First-Year, you’d rather skirt around the subject and pretend that you’re much better at hiding your emotions than you actually are.

“Who said anything about Fushiguro?” Maki innocently cocks a brow, but smirks to herself as you murmur a low fuck underneath your breath. Damn, you walked right into that one.

“I hate you, you know that?” You deadpan, staring straight into Maki’s eyes.

“Yeah, I hate you too.”

The corner of your lips twitch up into a hint of grin as Maki offers you a hand, pulling you up onto your feet.

You wrap up your training session not long after that since Maki claimed that she didn’t see the point in continuing to spar if you’re not going to give it your all. “There’s no fun in beating someone over and over again,” she sighed as you were knocked to the ground for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You gave her a half-hearted glare in response to that comment.

Freshly showered, you’re now lounging on one of the benches placed near the dorms, occupying your time by scrolling through social media. You try to convince yourself that you’re hanging around outside because you want to enjoy how nice the day is, but you, and everyone else, know better. Fushiguro, and presumably Gojo-Sensei, should be coming back from their mission soon. Although you know that Fushiguro wasn’t seriously injured, you also know that the tight coil of worry in your stomach won’t go away until you see it with your own eyes that Fushiguro is, indeed, okay.

“Senpai?” The sudden noise startles you and you scramble to sit up straight. You unconsciously smooth out the creases in your clothing as you meet the eyes of the person who called you.

“Fushiguro,” you breathe out, relief heavily laced in your voice. You push yourself off the bench to stand on your feet and quickly scan his form for injuries, brows furrowing when you see the numerous bandages littering his face. It’s only when Fushiguro shifts underneath your intense gaze that you realize how long you must have spent staring at his face. Great, now he’s going to think you’re some sort of creep, you think to yourself. “H-how are you feeling?”

You internally wince at your slight fumbling over your words. You’re just glad nobody else is around to witness this encounter, Gojo-Sensei and Maki would find way too much delight in your distress.

Fushiguro brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. A hint of redness seeps out from underneath his bandages, staining his cheeks, as he reflects on how badly his simple retrieval mission turned out. He’ll leave it up to Gojo-Sensei to explain to your class about Itadori and how he’s Sukuna’s new vessel. He wonders how you all will take it.

“I’m fine, Senpai,” he replies, grimacing as the pads of his fingertips run along the gauzy material of the bandage firmly wrapped around his head. Heat floods his cheeks when he looks up to see the genuine concern in your expression. Fushiguro’s thankful that the bandage on his cheek manages to partially conceal the flush of his skin. “Really.” He adds on for extra emphasis. You still look unconvinced, but you nod along as if you actually believe Fushiguro’s words.

“Well, that’s a relief. I was worried about you when Gojo-Sensei sent us those pictures of you all bloodied up,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“You were worried about me?” Fushiguro questions with a slight raise of his brow.

Oh fuck. For a moment, you say nothing: frozen completely still as your brain attempts to process the fact that you just told Fushiguro, to his face, that you were concerned about his well-being. Maybe, he’d interpret your words in a friendly way. Perhaps, he would think that you were just being a good upperclassman and looking out for him. If you were lucky, Fushiguro would think nothing of your comment.

“Senpai?” A sudden weight on your shoulder pulls you out of your internal panicking. Fushiguro’s hand lightly rests on your shoulder as a concerned expression lies on his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Fushiguro,” you assure him. There’s still a slight frown in place, crinkling the bandage stuck on the corner of Fushiguro’s mouth. You inhale deeply in order to muster up as much courage as you can for what you’re going to do next. “I promise.” Your voice softens as you gently place your palm over the back of Fushiguro’s hand.

Fushiguro stills underneath your touch and you have to restrain yourself from giggling at the intense redness that floods his cheeks. His flush deepens even more when you find yourself unable to completely suppress your amusement, your quiet laughter filling the air. He’s quick to draw his hand off of your shoulder to rest by his side.

“Good. I’m going to go rest in my dorm now. See you later, Senpai.” His words nearly slur together with how fast Fushiguro spits them out. You don’t even have the opportunity to say goodbye in return as Fushiguro swiftly turns around and rushes inside of the dorm building.

He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered, you muse. A silly grin crosses your face unconsciously as you attempt to sear the image of Fushiguro blushing into your memory. Maybe, your feelings aren’t as unrequited as you think.

“Ah, young love.”

You jolt, spinning around to face the owner of the voice. Your grin falls as soon as you make eye contact with the individual.

“Gojo-Sensei,” you deadpan. Your brow twitches in annoyance at his elated expression. Knowing him, he probably eavesdropped on your entire conversation with Fushiguro. “If you took any pictures or videos, I am going to kill you.”

His grin only widens at that.

“Too late.”

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!!  As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

-

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

-

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

[fruitcoops]

LOOPS RAILING CAP IN THE SHOWER - cause we all know he deserves it after a game

Not exactly after a game, but still some fun and frisky locker room shower times. Coops (and James) credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut, being sort-of walked in on (only after everything is said and done), cramping muscles

“Hurry up,” Sirius hissed as he teetered on one foot and accidentally dipped the toe of his sock into the water pooling beneath him.

“I’m trying!” Remus whispered back, still elbows-deep in his duffel bag. His face lit up and he rocked back on his heels with a small container.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said immediately.

“It’s all I have!”

“Mon dieu,” he muttered, yanking his other sock off and kneeling by his own bag. “There is no universe in which that bullshit is going up my ass.”

“It’s Vaseline, baby, not battery acid.”

Sirius turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “It’s sticky, it’s slimy, and it’s cold as shit. You hate it, too!”

“Fair point.”

With a quiet, triumphant ‘ha!’, Sirius emerged with a small tube of clear aloe gel. “Who’s the Boy Scout now, sweetheart?”

“You’re the Boy Scout,” Remus grumbled, wincing as he stood and his knees crackled. “Alright, scoot, we don’t have a ton of time.”

“Oh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Sirius deadpanned.

Remus made a face to hide his smile. “Shut up, you.”

He peeked around the edge of the shower stall once more before backing up against the wall, then stifled a shout at the cold tile between his shoulder blades. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“We do have a perfectly good shower at home.” Despite his words, Sirius could see the gleam of excitement in Remus’ eye as he was beckoned forward. The idea of maybe possibly maybe getting caught was a bit embarrassing if he thought about it too long, but it still sent a thrill through every nerve. That may have just been the feeling of Remus’ warmth on his front mixing with the chill on his back, though.

“Do you—” Sirius cut himself off with one more heated kiss, sliding a hand down Remus’ neck and laughing slightly at the squeak of his wet skin. “I wanna see you. Can you hold me up?”

Remus hummed, then pulled back with a thoughtful look. “Not before stretching. Sorry.”

“Pas de problem, mon coeur.” Sirius uncapped the aloe and handed it to Remus, using the side wall of the stall as a brace to hold himself up. He prayed his own tired muscles would do the job and not send them both tumbling to the floor in a heap of horniness.

“Here, let me…” Remus bit his lower lip and looped an arm under Sirius’ knee, lifting his leg around his waist. “Will that cramp?”

“Nah.”

He looked skeptical, but didn’t protest as he slicked his fingers and ran them down Sirius’ cleft. The water had finally started warming up to a more comfortable temperature; Sirius closed his eyes with a sigh and soaked in the feeling, letting the familiar tingles wash over him while Remus dragged his teeth along the side of his neck and the pad of his first finger slid in.

“You have magic fingers,” he murmured, gasping when cold air hit his pulse point. Whoever created aloe gel, I owe you a fruit basket.

He could feel Remus’ smile as his hitched-up thigh started trembling. “Merci.”

A door slammed down the hall and they both jerked in surprise—the digit rubbing gently around his outer muscle slipped very deep inside on very short notice and Sirius’ yelp was quickly muffled by Remus’ palm. “Fucking Christ,” he wheezed, torn between moaning in contentment and shrieking like a little girl at the sudden intrusion.

“Sorry, sorry, it was an accident.” Remus kissed his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“All good.”

“Will this be enough?"

“Considering we have—” Sirius did some awkward gymnastics to spot the wall clock. “—shit, just under an hour until the guys should start showing up, it’ll have to be.”

Remus chewed on the inside of his lip and glanced at the aloe. “I don’t know…”

“Hey.” Sirius cupped his face and kissed him. “This isn’t my first horse show.”

“Rodeo.”

“Same thing.” Remus’ lips twitched upwards and warmth spread all the way down to his toes, not just from the showerhead still spraying them like a firehose. “Besides, God knows you stretched me well enough last night.”

His concern turned to smugness and he crooked his finger slightly. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Bastard.”

The playful insult came out a little breathy as Sirius leaned his head back against the wall, losing himself to Remus’ practiced movements and damp, smooth skin touching him everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Something blunt and quite a bit slicker nudged his entrance after a moment—after a slow exhale on Remus’ part and a whine from Sirius, he was in to the hilt with all ten fingers gripping Sirius’ hips.

“Oh, fuck.” Sirius was rather winded for reasons he couldn’t spare the braincells to name, and Remus laughed under his breath as he began to move. “Oh, fuck.”

“Shh.”

“I can’t.”

“I know you can.”

“I don’t want to,” Sirius corrected, rocking his hips to match Remus’ thrusts. His fingers began to get sore from holding the stall so tight, but heat was building in his gut and he was hard enough to almost hurt in the best way. “God, there.”

“Not god, just me.”

He flicked his arm with a teasing grin. “Smartass. This is exciting.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus caught him by the thigh as his other knee buckled after a particularly nice angle. “Can’t hold you, can’t hold you, baby—”

“Got it,” Sirius managed, propping himself up again. A clunky door echoed in a faraway corridor and he heard Remus’ breath catch. “Keep going.”

“Someone’s gonna hear.”

“So?” He quirked an eyebrow and wrapped his free arm around Remus’ upper chest, drawing him even closer for a kiss that was more tongue than lips. “That’s the whole point, right?”

“The point—” Remus punctuated his words with a harder thrust that left Sirius’ scrabbling for grip on the wet tiles with a shaky sound. “—is that we could get caught. We could get caught, and then everyone would see how whiny, and needy, and lovely you are while you’re begging for me.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius practically whimpered. He swallowed hard and wrapped his leg tighter around Remus’ waist.

The water was starting to lose some of its heat, but he was dizzy with lust, and pure pleasure dripped like wildfire through his veins. “Actually, I think they already know,” Remus murmured into the hollow of his throat, leaving a light bite there. “Our friends don’t need to find us fucking in the showers, do they? They just need to take one look at you and they’ll know that as soon as I get you between the sheets, you’re a wreck.”

Sirius’ eyes fluttered shut; he couldn’t seem to close his mouth anymore, nor could he muffle the short, guttural sounds slipping out with every quick movement. His left leg was completely numb; it was a miracle it hadn’t given out yet.

“But no,” Remus continued, hoisting him back up into the proper place with a huff. “No, we just have to be that couple that sneaks into the locker room an hour before call time because we just love to tempt fate.”

“This was—your idea—too,” Sirius panted.

“Yeah, because I can’t keep my hands off you.”

He melted into Remus’ palms as they ran along his ribs and back, then down to his ass to give it a firm squeeze. “Close?” he asked, half-slurred.

“Not as close as you.”

His free leg tried to buckle again as Remus stroked along his shaft, but he forced it to stay steady and settled for gritting his teeth around a loud moan that would surely give them away. Remus smiled and upped the pace, but kept his hips moving at the exact same speed. The contrast made Sirius’ head spin. “Please, please, please, please—”

Teeth sank into the junction of his shoulder and all the air fled his lungs. “What else do you want, baby?”

“I don’t know.” It came out far needier than he intended, but who cared? Stars were already popping at the corners of his vision, and he couldn’t even feel the lukewarm water very much anymore.

“Come.”

“I c—”

“Now.”

Sirius took one shallow breath, two, and then shuddered apart, leaning all his weight into the tiles while Remus pulled out and came on his inner thigh. Through his hazy vision, he saw they still had about forty minutes until any of the others would show up. “Love you. Oh, fuck yeah,” he sighed.

Remus made a questioning noise against his collarbone; Sirius felt his heartbeat pounding under his hand.

“We’ve got time to spare.”

“Thank god,” Remus said with a breathless laugh. “I don’t actually want anyone to catch us.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Sirius agreed. “I think I’d rather—”

“Sup, Mad-Eye?”

Both of them froze in place as a cheerful voice rang out down the hallway. Sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floors, drawing closer every second. Sirius had gone ice cold, but he didn’t think it was just the shower’s fault.

“Go, go, go!” Remus hissed, yanking away.

Unfortunately, Sirius’ thigh decided that was the perfect moment to cramp so hard it made his vision go white for a second. As soon as his foot touched the ground, his whole hamstring seized, and he doubled over with a strained “motherfucker!”

“Get up!”

“I can’t!”

James’ footsteps were getting louder. Sirius cursed under his breath and limped after Remus into the shitty little janitor’s closet in the corner, wedging himself next to a mop as he bit down on his knuckles to stifle the pained groans building in his throat. Remus shot him an apologetic look and squeezed his hand in sympathy.

The closet was not meant for much more than a handful of emergency cleaning supplies, let alone two mid-season-muscled hockey players. They were pressed chest-to-chest, holding their breath as doom approached.

Well, not doom. Just utter, world-ending humiliation. Not the kinky kind, either.

James whistled to himself as he neared the locker room—two seconds after Sirius buried his face in the side of Remus’ neck to breathe through the agony in his leg, the door slammed open and his best friend began clattering around.

All of a sudden, the room fell silent. Shit.

“Hello?” James called, sounding much too amused for his own good. “Anyone in here?”

Sirius’ pulse hammered in his ears.

“Huh. Looks like somebody left the shower on,” James said with a dramatic gasp. “And what’s this? Two whole duffel bags?”

Fuck, Remus mouthed as Sirius straightened up with a wince.

James started laughing. Deep, deep in his soul, Sirius knew he had spotted the aloe. The squeaking stopped just outside the closet. “Good morning,” James singsonged, though he didn’t open the door.

Remus opened his mouth, resigned, but Sirius jabbed him in the chest with his pointer finger and shot him a warning look. They weren’t going to engage in conversation while naked and crammed in a janitor’s closet. Especially not when James Potter was on the other side.

“I think it’s a little early for all this, but I could be wrong.” He could almost see James shrugging through the thick wood. “I suppose you’ve gotta take what free time you have. Cap, your showers are a lot nicer than these, though. At least they stay warm for more than a few minutes.”

Remus thudded his forehead against Sirius’ sternum.

“Alright, alright,” James said after a moment of quiet. “If anyone were to perhaps be hiding after getting off in the shitty team showers at seven in the morning—at least, I hope you got off—they should feel free to come out of the closet in a much more literal sense because I am leaving. And I will be out of the locker room for five minutes. Once again, that is five minutes, and then I will be back in here to get ready for my job like a responsible adult.”

The door opened and closed again with a click. They both waited with bated breath.

“Ugh, fine,” James groaned. The hinges creaked, his footsteps faded, and there was a loud slam as it shut for real.

“I’m going to kill him,” Sirius said as they shuffled out of the closet, knocking over several spray bottles in the process. “Really, I will.”

“I’ll help you bury the body,” Remus said wearily as he tossed the aloe back in his bag with a sigh. “That was horrific. Think we can sneak out and back in without him noticing?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the door. “The son of a bitch will be waiting for us. It’s better to just accept our fate and let him have this.”

“We’re putting shaving cream in his gloves after this, right?”

“Actually, I think Vaseline would be better.”

[atths--twice]

Periods of Pain

It’s been a bit of time since I’ve posted a story. Hope you are all doing well and you enjoy this one. ❤

Waking from cramps and pain, Scully discovers she does not have any tampons, prompting a need to go out in the middle of the night. Or does she…?

March 1998

Rolling over, waking from a restless sleep, Scully groaned as her stomach clenched and she drew in a sharp breath. Moaning, she placed a hand on her stomach and pushed the covers back with the other.

Turning on the light, she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, opening only one in the brightness. Letting out another breath, she opened her suitcase and began to rummage through it. Every pocket was searched, but she did not find what she needed.

“Shit,” she whispered and went into the bathroom to look in her toiletry bag, but fairly certain she would not find them in there either. A quick search showed her thoughts were correct… no tampons.

Another pang in her stomach and she gripped the counter top with a deep moan, breathing in slowly through her nose and letting it out through her mouth. There was ibuprofen in her bag, only four, and she took all of them, drinking them with a handful of water from the bathroom tap.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and used the toilet, knowing what she would find and sighing bitterly when she did- her period. Her body’s cruel reminder that she may menstruate, but it would forever be in vain.

Cursing as she wiped away angry tears, she finished, washed her hands and left the bathroom. She would need to run to a grocery store or a gas station, despite the late hour. As another cramp hit, she shook her head as she remembered that Mulder had the car keys and he was most likely asleep.

“Fuck,” she said through gritted teeth and opened her side of the connecting door, finding his slightly ajar, the room dark aside from the glow of the television playing softly.

Pushing the door open further, she stepped quietly into the room and walked over to the table, sure that was where he would have left the keys, but did not find them.

“Scully?”

“Jesus, Mulder!” she said, whipping around, a hand on her chest as she let out a ragged breath. He was staring at her, his eyebrows raised and hair tousled, as he scratched at his upper arm. “You scared me.”

“I could say the same,” he said with a tired chuckle, continuing to stare at her. “Did you need something?”

“Uhhh… yeah I uh… I need the car keys.”

“Did…” He yawned and stretched, shaking his head. “Did you forget something?”

“No. I just… need them. Where are they?” He yawned again and walked closer to her.

“Not on the table?”

“No, I don’t see them. Do you know where else they would be?”

“You need them now? It’s… Scully, it’s two in the morning.” He stared at her questioningly and she drew in a breath as her stomach pained.

“I am aware that it’s late. I just need them… please.”

“You got a clandestine meeting I don’t know about,” he teased with a small smile and she scoffed softly.

“No. I just… Mulder, please,” she sighed and he nodded, beginning to look around, but she knew he was still concerned.

“Tampons,” she said softly. “I need to go get some tampons.” He froze in his search and looked at her, holding her gaze until she had to look away.

“Oh… right. Um… I think… umm… I think they might be in my coat pocket.” He picked it up and she sighed as she closed her eyes, feeling embarrassed though she knew she should not.

“Here,” he said softly and she opened her eyes, looking up to see him handing the keys to her, his own eyes unreadable, as though worried to express how he was truly feeling.

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking them from him, and looking down. “I usually have some, but I guess I forgot to replenish them before we left.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. She looked up and she saw sadness in his eyes before he looked away. She felt tears prick hers and she cleared her throat.

“Well, I’ll let you go back to sleep. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“You didn’t. My bladder did,” he said with a forced smile.

“Right,” she said, forcing a small chuckle, both of them ignoring the gigantic elephant in the room. “Okay, see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said with a nod and she stepped past him. “Oh… Scully, wait a second.”

Turning around, she stared at him with a furrowed brow. He was opening his suitcase and feeling around the inside pocket, a look of concentration on his face. He took out a pair of socks and some underwear, dropping them into his case, and then turning to look at her with a smile.

“Yup, I thought they might be still in there,” he said, walking closer and extending his hand to her, presenting her with two tampons. She took them with confusion and looked up at him. “Now you won’t have to go out. That’s enough until tomorrow, right?”

“Ye… yeah. But… Mulder, why do you have tampons in your bag? The brand I use, no less?”

“Well…” He shrugged and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “It never hurts to be prepared, Boy Scout motto and all that.

“You weren’t a Boy Scout, Mulder.”

“Indian Guide… Boy Scout…” He shrugged again, weighing his hands back and forth. He smiled and she tilted her head, silently asking him to answer her question. With a sigh, he nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. “I’ve had them for a while, I forgot they were there.”

“Yes, but why?”

“I could come away from this appearing like a real sensitive and caring soul, looking out for my female partner, being “man enough” to carry tampons, but…” He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “It’s only a small fraction of why I have them.” Inhaling sharply, her cramps still a nuisance, she breathed through it and kept her eyes on him.

“You had that really bad nosebleed,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “It wouldn’t stop, do you remember?” He raised his head and looked at her.

“Yes,” she breathed with a nod. Of course she remembered. She had nearly passed out because of it.

Nearly nine months ago while in his motel room, eerily similar to the one they were currently standing in, her nose had begun to bleed, dripping onto the case file in front of her, before quickly running copiously from her nose and onto her clothes. He had caught her as she stumbled to the bathroom, helping her get to the sink, the bright red drops of blood then splattering audibly against the white porcelain.

It felt as though it would never end and if he had not been there, she believed she may have died on the floor. He had caught her a second time, holding her upright, pinching her nose and murmuring to her, her eyes closed and body weak.

By the time the bleeding had stopped, both of them bore signs of it on their clothes and their person. He had washed her face, and helped to change her clothes, putting one of his shirts on her, not wanting her pajamas to become stained if it happened again.

He had wanted to go immediately to the hospital, but she had argued him down, claiming she was fine and only needed to sleep. He had relented, but barely, helping her to bed and staying beside her all night. She had woken a couple of times to find him sitting in a chair and watching her, before falling asleep once again.

In the morning she had been fine, a little tired at first, but well enough, though he had continued to keep an eye on her. It had bothered her at first, but when she remembered the sound of the blood hitting the sink, she understood and squeezed his hand briefly as they had gotten into the car.

Never again had her nose bled that badly and they had never discussed it.

“I uh… when we came home, I thought if I’d had the presence of mind, a tampon would have been the ideal thing to help staunch the bleeding. I mean, that’s its main purpose, right?” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I stopped and bought a box, putting some in my bag once I was home, just in case it happened again.”

“And you’ve had them all this time?” she whispered and he nodded. She shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes again.

“I figured it was best to be ready. The rest of the box is under my bathroom sink.” She scrunched her chin as she let out a breath. “Well… aside from a couple in a desk drawer at the office. And also the glovebox of my car.”

“Mulder…” she breathed, licking her lips and wiping her eyes quickly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so scared, Scully,” he whispered, shaking his head, staring into her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you. That…” Breaking eye contact, he looked down with a deep sigh and shook his head again. “That it would be there in some shitty motel room… where you… I…”

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, her tears falling as she let out a deep breath. She felt his arms holding her as she sniffled and closed her eyes.

God, he never failed to surprise her, leave her completely shocked by his care and thoughtfulness. Not that she did not know he cared, but the lengths to which he went, silently and unknowingly, made her ache. She held him tighter, his warmth and scent calming her.

He stroked her hair, his fingers rubbing gently at her scalp and she sighed, sniffling again as her breathing synced with his and his heart beat beneath her ear. His other hand running softly up and down her back was both relaxing and arousing, and she suppressed a moan before releasing her tight grip on him and pulling back slightly.

He held her upper arms and pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly, twice. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and pulled back further, needing to put some space between them.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he nodded as his hands moved down her arms, not breaking contact until he reached her fingers, squeezed gently, and let go.

“You’re welcome. We’ll stop and get more on our way to breakfast,” he said with a nod and she shook her head. “You’re not still going out?”

“No, but after breakfast is fine. After coffee especially,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood. He gave her a small smile and nodded.

“After breakfast then,” he agreed and she nodded, stepped back and cleared her throat.

“Thank you again,” she said, indicating the tampons in her hand and he nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Scully,” he said quietly. She turned around and walked to her room, glancing back at him as she walked through her door and closed it, though not completely.

As she went into the bathroom, she realized she still had the car keys. Setting them on the counter, she washed her hands and splashed some cold water on her face before using the toilet.

Opening the tampon, she shook her head at the injustice of it all, but mostly at the thought of him purchasing and then stashing tampons in places she would be, just in case of another emergency. His foresight had stopped her from a late night drive and the need for which he did purchase them was no longer a threat, but the need for them now was almost worse.

The cruel reminder that fruition could never happen.

Washing her hands again, she went back to bed, the light from the television in Mulder’s room faintly outlining her door. She stared at it, the sight of it comforting, until her eyes began to droop and she fell asleep.

_______________

After breakfast, through which they were both rather quiet, the previous night not discussed as they ate their food, they stopped at a pharmacy as planned. She made to get out and he stopped her.

“I got it,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door.

“Mulder, don’t be-”

“Scully,” he insisted, his hand on her arm to stop her from getting out of the car. “Please. Let me.”

“You don’t need to do that, Mulder. I appreciate you doing it before, but-” she began, but he interrupted her again.

“Please. I need to.” She stared at him and saw the sadness and pain in his eyes. Saw the hurt she had seen in January every time he looked at her where Emily was concerned. The pain when he had testified on her behalf and spoke the truth she had not expected, the burden he had carried, not wanting to hurt further.

“Mulder,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. “You don’t need to… you don’t.”

“I do,” he replied quietly, squeezing her hand with a nod. “Please.”

She relented with a final squeeze of her hand. He smiled softly and got out of the car, walking briskly into the store. She closed her eyes and massaged her forehead, tears threatening to fall, but she pushed them down. They had suspects to speak to and now was no time to cry.

He was back quicker than she had anticipated, startling her as her eyes flew open when he opened the door and sat down, a bag held in his hand. He smiled as he began to show her what he had bought. A box of tampons, a bottle of ibuprofen and one of Midol, two bottles of water, and a bag of Hershey’s kisses. Her eyes widened at the sight of it all and he laughed.

“Best to be prepared, right?” he teased, hinting at last night’s discussion even as the previous heaviness dissipated. She nodded, swallowing down the large lump residing in her throat. “Do you want a kiss?” He held the bag in his hands and shook it with a grin.

Not answering him, not with words anyway, she leaned toward him, held his face in her hands, and gently kissed him on the lips. Pulling back, she chuckled softly at the look of surprise on his face.

“I’ll take a chocolate one too,” she whispered teasingly as he stared at her. Raising an eyebrow at him, he shook his head and looked down at the bag. Ripping it open, he took one from the bag and handed it to her.

She opened it and put it into her mouth, smiling at him. His eyes traveled her face, landing on her lips, and she watched his throat as he swallowed. Shaking his head again, he took a candy from the bag and opened it, shoving it into his mouth.

Starting the car, she smiled at him, the sweet taste of chocolate on her tongue, the feel of his kiss on her lips. Squeezing his knee gently, her expression changed, hoping to convey her thanks once again. He nodded and covered her hand, interlocking their fingers momentarily before letting go, and offering her another kiss, the foil already removed.

Taking it, she smiled as she placed it into her mouth and put the car in reverse, the chocolate satisfying a craving and the man beside her soothing her soul.

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 5:

qιαи кυи

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @unknown5tar @whathamelon @curieouscapt @silent-potato

warnings: use of the nickname sir (once I think), power play, slight choking, creampie, office sex, pure filth.

“Crap.” You murmured, your figure engulfed by the darkness of the big office.

The power had gone off, all the work you’d done probably lost now. A pair of black Oxfords clicked on the marble floor, echoing through the walls.

“Y/n?” You recognized the voice of your boss, who usually kept you company when you stayed extra hours. “Are you alright?”

“I might jump out of the window if my report got deleted.” He giggled, extending his hands to avoid crashing onto something. “Now I’ll have to stay longer.” You groaned in frustration, jolting when a pair of hands squeezed your shoulders.

“Let’s go to my office, I have a few candles and a chess board to pass time.” As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you started being able to see his face. That handsome face that had anyone down on their knees in a matter of seconds. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” But the rumors spreading around the office said otherwise. People around you would literally call him a sex god, but only very few were able to experience his abilities and none of them for more than once.

“Sure, Mr. Qian.” With your phone’s flashlight, you followed him back to the wide office, which was probably the size of your apartment.

He’d already set the chessboard, two glasses of red wine on each side of it. The candles surrounding it gave the atmosphere a warmer tone, more sensual you daresay.

“Have a seat.” The leather couch was soft, like sitting on a cloud. “I’ll play with the black ones.” You nodded, eyes staring at the glass and wondering if it would be correct to take a sip. “Go ahead, it’s all yours.” He said as if he’d listened to your thoughts.

“Thank you.” The game started, you moving your pawns first and surprisingly getting a hold of some of his pieces.

You were quick to take control of most of the board, almost all of your pieces still standing. Maybe you weren’t that bad at chess after all.

“Check mate!” You clapped your hands excitedly, sipping the last drops of wine from your glass.

“I want a rematch.”

You played a couple more matches, easily winning each and every one of them as you drank glass after glass, Kun looking at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I love wine.” And you had a great alcohol resistance.

“This is getting a little boring.” You nodded, not knowing the true intentions behind his words. “What if we give this game a little twist?”

“What kind of twist?” You raised an eyebrow, your elegant fingers grabbing the base of the glass.

“For every match one of us loses, the other one picks a piece of clothing they take off.”

“Huh?” So that’s what this was all about, he was trying to get into your pants. Thank god he sucked at the game. “Well, I’m only going to accept because you’re such a terrible player.” You weren’t planing on asking him to take off his shirt or something, maybe a sock or his tie would do.

“Ouch.” He pretended to have a chest pain, proceeding to flash a dimpled smile in your direction.

Oh if only you knew.

“How?” You stared at the board, as if the answer would suddenly appear carved on it.

“Luck, I guess.” Your brain was quick to pick up on things.

“Luck my ass, you tricked me!” For a moment you forgot it was your boss who you were talking to, but he didn’t seem to mind, more like he was actually enjoying himself.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” He stood up from the couch, taking out a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cabinet beside his desk. He poured the ámbar liquid inside while taking a seat. “Now...” he took a sip, his eyes seductively looking at you. “Where should we start?” He evaluated his options, scanning your body from head to toes. “Take of your bra.”

“H-Huh?” You weren’t expecting him to be so direct, and yet, his words had you core dripping already.

“Take of your bra.” He repeated. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, in which case, you’re free to leave.” But he perfectly knew you had no intentions of leaving, a cocky grin adorning his plump lips as you lifted your shirt slightly, unclasping the piece of lingerie and pulling it out through your sleeve, something you usually did as soon as you arrive home.

The silky material of your blouse caressed your soft buds. Your piece of clothing was a little see through, giving Kun a peak at your hardened nipples.

“Shall we move on to the next round?”

In less than an hour, you were sitting almost completely naked in front of him, your panties being the last piece of clothing covering you (if you didn’t count the high heels he’d insisted you kept on). But they wouldn’t stay on for longer, for your king was trapped with not much pieces left to cover him. Your forearm covered your breasts as well as you could, your hands fidgeting with the wooden piece.

“There’s no way I can win this, is there?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” Without an ounce of embarrassment left, you slipped down the final piece of clothing, kicking it to the side and releasing your mounds from their confinement. “Look at you, all pretty and naked for your boss.”

“What comes next?” Perhaps another round of chess, you thought. Instead of putting the pieces back in place, he walked over to you, lifting your chin so your eyes were directly facing his.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

You somehow ended up laying down on his desk, all of the stuff in it now scattered around the floor as he rammed himself inside of you. He kept eye contact at all times, that cocky grin making its appearance as he held your knees against your chest.

“God, y/n. You know how long I’ve waited to do this?” Blonde strands of hair were sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat shimmering under the dim light of the candles. “Even when I was fucking someone else, all my mind could think about, was you. How well you’d take me, how much of a good girl you’d be for me...”

“S-sir.” You were clenching around him, seconds away from your high.

“You’re my pretty little fuck doll, aren’t you?” His hands let go of your knees, wrapping around your neck instead. “Answer.”

“Yes, sir.” You whimpered, your air supply running short.

“Good girl.” His hands loosened around your neck, but still not letting go of it. “I want you to take all of my cum, not a single drop of it should be wasted, alright?” You nodded, eyes shut as your toes curled in pleasure.

One final thrust sent you over the edge, consequently causing his seed to paint your walls. He pulled out, watching you desperately try not to spill his fluids.

“So obedient.” He walked back to the small living room, grabbing your discarded clothes to dress you up. “Just so you know, I usually never do this.” He clasped your beige bra, his fingers pad brushing your flushed skin.

“Then why are you doing it now?” By now, his cum was sliding down from your thighs into the desk, but he didn’t mind, at least you tried.

“Because it’s you.”

“I’m honored, Mr. Qian.”

“Don’t get cocky. Raise your butt.”

“Wait!” He had already slid your panties up, smearing them with yours and his fluids. “Kun!”

“Calling me by my name? Naughty girl.” He flicked your forehead, not completely sure if giving the red spot a kiss would be appropriate. “It doesn’t seem like the power’s gonna come back soon, you should head home.”

“But then you’ll be alone.”

“Are you worried about me?” The thought of the recent events not being more than a one-time thing, made your heart drop.

“N-no. Never mind, I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.” You adjusted your dressing pants before hoping off the desk.

“Wear a skirt tomorrow.” He said right before you crossed the door. “And no panties, I want you ready for me.”

It was definitely not gonna be a one-time thing, and the thought of it alone, had you drenched. Maybe working extra hours wasn’t so bad after all.

[lemon-boy-stan]

dating min yoongi includes -

a quiet life.

yoongi's not a very open person so people probably don't know that you exist.

which is good because you wanted that too.

you and your boyfriend share similar personalities.

you're an introvert and he doesn't like people, it's perfect.

you're also both really sarcastic.

there is a lot of sarcasm in this quiet relationship.

you guys both get a grey cat together because that's really aesthetic idk why

because you're not famous the boys try their best not to talk about you in public but sometimes you can be seen in the back of videos or heard talking to the others or giving him food.

yoongi isn't open or touchy so not a lot of pda happens but you actually like that better, you've never been one to hug people or who's liked recieving hugs and that's the same for holding hands.

although he knows you better than your therapist so please don't try lying to him, thanks.

but just because he doesn't show his love to the world doesn't mean he shows his love in other ways.

for instance, yoongi spends months in his studio writing, choreographing, and producing whole albums solely in your name. fans of agust d often theorize over who the mysterious girl is but he never answers their questions. that way, no drama happens.

speaking of drama, arguments with yoongi are very short and level-headed. he's a naturally calm person and will always listen to your end, no matter how ridiculous it is. arguments never get loud or violent; they always end quickly with apologies (sometimes tears and cuddles) from both ends.

when he's had a really long day the two of you will hog the couch, making it impossible for the other boys to sit on; he'll collapse there and you'll lie on him with your head on his chest and his arm lazily wrapped adound you I NEED HELP

if you have adhd like me, yoongi loves you very much. he normally wouldn't be so patient and calm when it takes you like, fifteen times until you finally get something. he doesn't even throw his arms up or pull his hair in annoyance!!!

for anxiety, yoongi remains calm. he knows what to do or at least tries his best, and certainly doesn't get annoyed when your brain goes in circles.

yoongi probably suspected if you have depression. correct me if i'm wrong, but he's been through something like that before so when you started getting worse or both of you sensed a re-lapse he did everything in his aid to help you and get you better, even if it meant forcing you to go to therapy.

anyways.

so, there's always a clothing item a boyfriend's girl steals, right? for some reason you always take yoongi's socks. SOCKS! you have no idea why but they're much better than yours. he rolls his eyes whenever he asks you where they are and then sees them on your feet.

like i said before, you guys don't really care about important dates like birthdays or monthly anniversaries.

on both of your birthdays the rest of the guys know that you just want the house to be quiet for once and to let the two of you do whatever you need or feel like to do.

although you both like "good morning" and "good night" texts and enjoy the casual (if not daily) phonecall and facetime whenever he's on tour.

if you really do want to be an idol, though, i feel you would either be on a famous k-drama or you would be a solo artist.

meaning you do a lot of duets with your boyfriend, making the relationship public.

you would also be jin's bestie???

sex with yoongi is sweet, slow, hot, and absolutely incredible.

he's not a top or a bottom, more a just a "whatever goes" kinda guy, if you know what i mean. so long as it leaves you out of breath and satisfied, min yoongi is flexible like an elastic band.

sex with yoongi has to mean something. he won't fuck you for no reason before you're dating, he'll wait a while after you started going out and when he sees you want it.

he also doesn't really have any prominent kinks, it's more just whatever he feels like, what kind of mood the kink is suitable for.

min yoongi goes with the flow and the flow is honoured to have him by his side.

he doesn't get jealous often. calm and level-headed, yoongi knows that you love him, however when he does get really jealous he'll probably straight-up tell you, to avoid any stress.

he likes to plan. he's a by-the-book person, he likes instructions. which is fine, even though instructions give you a headache, but with yoongi's incredible preparations you guys are never late and always have what you need, sometimes even extra (eg. face masks).

you guys loved lockdown. when some people (maybe hoseok) couldn't sit still, the two of you always found something to do.

like, puzzles. that's your new tradtition now; yoongi buys you a whole bunch of puzzles from wherever he is, ships them back and you wait for him to do it together awww

not a lot of nicknames although he does enjoy it when you blurt out the word "oppa".

you both like your own space so the boys are often confused as to why you're snoozing in his jumper on the sharebed and yoongi's on the couch asleep.

very small matching outfits like nailpolish or clothing brands you'd only be able to notice if you looked for it.

overall, being min yoongi's girlfriend isn't much, but it's all you ever wanted and will ever need.

BTS MASTERLIST - requests are open!

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part iv

~

October

We fell in love in October

That's why, I love fall

Looking at the stars

Admiring from afar

~

Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?

It was, it was.

But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.

Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.

Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—

~

“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”

James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”

Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”

“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”

“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.

Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”

Finn just held up his hands in surrender.

“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.

“Ouais, mon soleil?”

Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”

“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.

“Those’re checkered, baby.”

Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”

Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”

Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”

Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”

“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”

Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”

“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.

“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”

“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”

Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”

Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”

“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”

Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.

“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”

Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”

“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.

“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”

Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.

The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.

“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”

Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.

“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.

“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.

“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.

“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”

Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.

“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.

Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”

Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.

“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.

Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”

Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.

“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”

“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.

“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”

“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”

Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”

Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”

Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”

Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”

Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.

“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.

Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”

“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.

Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”

Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”

“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”

“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.

Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”

“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”

Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.

Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”

Finn snorted.

“Plaid,” Logan nodded.

“Checkered,” Leo amended.

“Ouais. Same thing.”

“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

“Non?” he asked.

Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”

Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”

Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.

“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”

Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”

“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.

“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.

Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”

Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.

“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.

“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”

“Right, those big things,” Leo said.

Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.

“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.

Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”

Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”

But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.

“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.

Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.

“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”

“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.

“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”

“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.

“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.

“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”

“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”

Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.

“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”

Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”

Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.

“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”

Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”

He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.

Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”

“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”

Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.

“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”

Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Leo mumbled.

“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”

“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”

Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”

“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.

“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”

“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”

Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.

Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.

Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”

Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.

~

“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”

Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.

His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”

“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”

“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”

Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”

Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”

Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”

Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”

Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”

“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”

Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”

Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”

Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”

They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.

“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.

“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.

“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”

“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”

“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.

“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”

Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”

“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”

His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”

“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”

“Say what to Sirius Black?”

Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.

Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.

It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.

Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.

Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.

“One day, huh, Cole?”

Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”

One day. Cole wanted to believe it.

~

Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?

Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.

Is he anyone’s?

Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?

Oh, you bet.

Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.

Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.” 

Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”

“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.

Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”

Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”

Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”

Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.

“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”

“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”

Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”

“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”

“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”

Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”

“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”

Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”

Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”

Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”

Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.

Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”

Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”

“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”

“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.

Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.

Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.

Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.

He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.

You did it once, do it again.

“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”

James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”

Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”

They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.

“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”

Sirius could only smile back.

~

Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.

Remus had only dreamed of this.

“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.

Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.

“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”

Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.

“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”

The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.

“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”

“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.

Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”

James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.

He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.

The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.

Remus turned his head slightly.

“Love you.”

Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.

“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.

Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—

Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.

Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.

“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.

Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.

“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.

“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.

Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.

Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.

Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.

“Loops.”

Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.

“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”

But he played three more shifts in the first.

The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.

“Yo.”

Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.

“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”

“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”

Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.

Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love you,” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.

Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.

“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.

~

Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?

If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.

“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”

Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.

“If you are.”

“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”

“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”

Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”

“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”

~

“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”

Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.

“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.

Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”

“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”

“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”

“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.

Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”

Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”

“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”

“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”

“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”

“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”

Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”

“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”

Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”

“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”

Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”

Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”

“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”

Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.

“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.

“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.” Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”

Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”

Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”

“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”

Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”

Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”

Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”

“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.

Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.

Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.

“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”

Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”

“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”

“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”

“Mm. Sexy fireman.”

“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.

“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.

“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.

Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.

“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.

“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”

Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”

Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.

“Can I say something?” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”

Remus flushed. “I know.”

Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”

“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”

Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.

“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”

Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”

Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”

Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.

“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.

[sugar-petals]

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there’s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

“Let me bandage you up,” Tía or Ray and Reggie, just to be different. 😁

hi i loved this so much omg. huge thanks to Ángela @angela-feelstoomuch for the spanish help as well, any remaining mistakes are totally my own fault haha. warning for some swearing and mentions of bl00d/minor injury.

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Honestly, being an honorary Molina is pretty great most of the time. Reggie loves having a little brother, would have done anything to convince his parents to have another kid when he was younger (and alive), though he knew they never would, since one kid was already such a pain in the ass. So Carlos is amazing.

And obviously Julie is his favourite girl ever, and his favourite still-alive person in the world, and she sings like an angel and thinks his country songs are cool and he would do anything for her and et cetera. It’s nice to see Luke and Alex settle in, get more relaxed - Luke doesn’t shy away from Julie every time Ray enters a room, and Alex doesn’t make excuses to miss dinner so that he doesn’t have to say grace, because he’s realised Ray doesn’t make him say grace.

“Niños!” Ray is calling from the kitchen, oven mitts on his hands, grin on his face, “Help setting the table?”

Even from here, dinner smells amazing. “Coming!” Reggie calls, manages not to say ‘dad’ at the end but it’s close, as he and Carlos bounce up off the couch and run to the kitchen.

Ray is the best. Reggie’s own dad was - look, it’s not that he was awful, it’s not that Reggie hates him, it’s just - he saw these dads, in movies, and on TV, and in other peoples homes, and he wanted one even more than he wanted a puppy, or a little brother, and Ray is that dad. He’s understanding, and encouraging, and funny, and a great cook, and he never raises his voice even when he should be mad about something. Reggie feels so lucky that Julie and Carlos let Reggie share their dad, even unofficially.

“Carlos!” Tía snaps, as he runs past her and ducks under her elbow, narrowly avoiding the tray in her hands, “Cuidado! La bandeja está caliente!”

It’s Tía Victoria who kinda scares Reggie.

It’s not that she’s not nice. Tía is nice. She brings over food and drives Carlos to ball games and pesters Ray about dentists’ appointments he almost forgets to go to. It’s just that she’s a little more like the other adults Reggie knew. She barks her words, sometimes, and she doesn’t get Julie’s music thing quite like Ray does, even if she’s supportive for the most part. And she doesn’t always believe Carlos about things, which Reggie understands more now that he’s been conned by Carlos about several random things (for example, Eggos are not in the house-sized waffle business in 2020 as Carlos told him, and they did not manage to breed dragons into existence with new DNA cloning technology) but still. It makes him nervous.

“Sorry, Tía!” Carlos chirps as he slides on his socks into a crouched position in front of the cupboard where they keep all the plates and bowls. Since Carlos has them handled, Reggie goes for glasses instead, reaching overhead for the cupboard on the opposite side of the room.

“Carlos!” sighs Tía again, more irritated than before, and Reggie feels his shoulders tense even though he wills them not to. “Let me help carry some of those, you’ll drop them, sobrino.”

“Fine,” Carlos huffs, and there’s the clink of plates as he passes half his pile off to her and they head for the dining table.

Reggie counts in his head as he stacks the glasses in the crook of his arm. There’s him and the boys, so four - wait, no, three - plus Julie, so four - then Ray and Carlos and Tía so five six seven -

He’s too caught up counting, is the problem, and doesn’t focus enough on how he has the glasses balanced. It probably would have been fine, except there’s a loud thud! Which Reggie registers a moment too late as being Luke, jumping from the top of the stairs to the bottom, enjoying his alive body. The sound scares Reggie about a foot in the air, and he fumbles the stack of glasses, and almost manages to save it.

The glass from the very top of the pile smashes on the floor, a harsh shatter that makes every head in the room turn in his direction. Reggie feels the panic surge up in him like a forgotten pot on the stove suddenly bubbling over. With trembling hands, he puts the rest of the glasses on the counter and scrambles down to the floor, tries to gather the glass shards together into a pile from where they’ve scattered, desperate to tidy the mess, to give some sense of responsibility, instead of just standing there like a stupid kid. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and his voice shakes more than he’d like, almost more than his hands had, “I’m sorry, I can clean it-”

“Reggie!” interrupts Tía, and her voice seems sharper than the glass.

“Victoria-” Ray begins, but Tía doesn’t let him finish, either. She’s already practically at Reggie’s side, crouching down next to him on the floor.

Her closeness makes Reggie’s hairs stand on end, and he’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not for her to gently lay her fingertips on his wrist and say, in a much softer tone, “Mijo, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” Reggie blinks. Looks at his arm, next to where her perfectly manicured nails have landed. She’s right, he sees. There’s a few little gashes, nothing huge, trickling blood in tiny streams down his forearm. In a few more moments, the blood would have reached his hand, and he would have noticed, probably. Except when he turns his palms up to look at them, he realises they’re cut up, too. Probably from grabbing glass shards with no protection.

His lip wobbles before he can stop it. He can still feel everyone looking at him. Knows what they must be thinking.

Stupid fucking kid.

“What are you staring at?” Tía says, back to business as usual. He flinches at her voice, before he realises she’s not talking to him. She’s talking to the others. “Come on! Ray, grab the dustpan and some shoes, clean up this glass before anyone else gets hurt. Carlos, finish setting the table, and Luke, go fetch the others para la comida.” In his peripheral vision, Reggie sees everyone bounce back into action, like her words broke a spell on them, and it’s a relief to know they’re not all looking at him any more. Tía continues, as she tucks an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, “Reggie and I will be back.”

“We will?” Reggie asks automatically, as she helps him balance on his wobbly, baby-giraffe legs.

“En un minuto,” she tells him confidently. “But first, let me bandage you up.”

He’s not exactly going to argue with her. Honestly, any excuse to get out of the public space is appreciated when his eyes still feel so close to swimming with tears. Firm yet warm, she leads him to the bathroom and has him sit on the closed toilet lid while she pulls Ray’s first aid kid from the cabinet, pulling from it some disinfectant, bandages and a pair of tweezers.

“Just in case any glass is left,” she explains briskly, settling on the edge of the bathtub and turning his arm over, palm up, so she can see the scratches. She tuts softly. “Your poor hands!”

Reggie ducks his head, whispers, “I really am sorry.”

“¿Por qué?” she asks. “It was an accident, right?”

“Huh?”

She sits back again and looks him in the eyes for a moment. If it was Ray, or one of the boys, Reggie would shy away from the look, but she has the same skill Julie has, to pin you in place with her gaze, so Reggie assumes it’s from Rose’s side of the family. “I know you didn’t throw that glass on the ground on purpose. It was just an accident. These things happen.”

“You’re not angry?” The question slips out before Reggie can think about how silly it sounds, but instead of rolling her eyes, or her jaw clenching in annoyance, Tía’s expression softens somehow.

“No, mijo. Not at all. Estaba un poco preocupada, maybe, but that’s only because I care about you.”

Reggie doesn’t know what to say to that. Bites his lip as she gently applies disinfectant along the wounds, once she’s declared them sufficiently glass-free, and wills himself not to cry as she wraps the bandages around his arm and a little around the palm of his hand. At least if he cries she’ll just think it’s because of the sting, and not because he braced himself so hard to be yelled at and called names and then it never came.

Not because he keeps remembering that he feels like glass himself. Always a moment away from falling onto the ground and shattering, so teeter-y that the kindness of adults he barely knows can almost knock him over the edge.

“Terminado!” she declares, tying off the last of the bandage, and gives him a big smile. It looks genuine enough. Not like she’s bottling anything up to let out at him later. Not like she’s fronting, or lying, not that Reggie’s ever been particularly good at telling the difference with anyone. She must see the puzzlement in his face, because she adds, “Just an accident.”

It really seems that simple. Like everything’s just fixed and okay. Like she doesn’t think Reggie is stupid. The feeling is sort of overwhelming; Reggie’s stomach feels all warm, and - empty, actually. It grumbles loudly in that moment, and Tía laughs, and Reggie laughs with her.

“Vamos a como?” he tries, because he’s been listening, and trying to pick things up.

“Vamos a comer,” she corrects him, but he can’t mistake her tone this time for anything other than delighted, her expression for anything other than fond and relieved as she helps him up. They go back down the stairs, her loosely holding his hand the whole way, not enough to hurt his wounds, but enough to remind him she’s there.

She presents him to the table with a goofy little ta-da! gesture, much to the joy of those already at the table. “Our Reggie, back in one piece!” she says. Laughter and relief radiates from all the others, and Tía grins, pleased, puts her hands on her waist. In that moment, despite all his preconceptions, she reminds him more of Julie than anyone else.

Maybe she isn’t so scary after all.