#STILL REALLY HOPE THE NUMBERS WILL MAKE SENSE EVENTUALLY

[edenesth]

[5:45 PM]

'Don't wait up for me! Go home first, Woo. There's food in the fridge.' — future wifey💘

Your boyfriend pouted as he read the text you'd sent him at 5pm. He had arrived at your office building and was waiting at his usual spot when he received your message. Normally, you got off work sharp at 5, but today you seemed overwhelmingly busy. Unlike usual, you hadn't even been very responsive during lunch hour.

Wooyoung glanced up and noticed that the lights in your office were among the few still on. Although it was still early, it was a Friday evening, and most people preferred to leave on time and deal with any leftover work on the following Monday.

How long could she take anyway? I'll wait.

Refusing to go home without you, he patiently waited downstairs, hoping to surprise you when you eventually emerged from the building. His unease grew as he watched more and more people leave, the offices slowly emptying, and the sky darkening, yet there was still no sign of you. There were times when you stayed late at work, but never this late.

Nearly an hour later, he sent you a text to let you know he didn't mind waiting and was still in the same spot, asking how much longer you would be. If you needed more time, he'd go to the nearby café for a drink while waiting. But he frowned when 10 minutes passed, and you hadn't even been online; his message was sent but still unread. The final straw was when his call went unanswered.

Despite feeling panic creep in, he tried to stay calm as he walked into the lobby of your office building. Breathe, Jung Wooyoung, breathe. He tells himself you were probably just really busy. But why? You had told him the peak season ended a week ago, so this should have been a slow week. It didn't make sense that you were working so late now. What weren't you telling him?

Crap, is she cheating on me?

Slapping himself on the cheek, he chastised himself for even entertaining such a thought. You had been nothing but the best and most dedicated girlfriend he'd ever had. How could he think that way about you? Now, he only prayed you were alright. What if something had happened to you? What if you had passed out? What if someone at work was doing something untoward to you? He remembered you mentioning a coworker who persistently pursued you despite knowing you were taken.

Well, that wasn’t comforting at all.

"Come on, come on, come on!" he muttered through gritted teeth as he watched the elevator numbers climb slowly. He only needed to get to the ninth floor, but the trip had never felt longer. His mind conjured up all sorts of wild scenarios, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to see you right now, to have you safe and sound in front of him so he could be okay again.

Ding!

Before the elevator doors fully opened, he was already dashing out at full speed. The dim, empty reception counter of your department greeted him as he sprinted towards your office—the only place he knew to go. "I'm coming, love. Just wait for me."

He had no idea what to expect as he saw your door open, the light from your room spilling into the dark and silent office. Anxiety flooded him as he braced for the unexpected. And indeed, it was unexpected. His steps faltered as he stopped to catch his breath at the entrance of your office, eyes glued to the sight before him. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the extent of his overthinking.

Wooyoung let out a huge sigh of relief, his eyes softening as he took in your petite frame, now slumped over your workdesk, fast asleep amidst piles of documents. The glaring screen of your PC reflected off your glasses, which were crooked on your face as you snored lightly. Your phone, in silent mode, lay beside you.

This explained everything.

Your boyfriend approached you slowly, careful not to wake you yet. With one glance at your computer, he immediately understood why you had been so busy today. Your team leader's emergency leave had left you responsible for a case that ran into some hiccups. Scrolling down the trail of emails, he felt relieved to see that you had eventually solved the issue. The exhaustion must have hit you hard once the adrenaline was gone.

Gently, he removed your glasses from your face, placing them back in their case before running his hand through your hair, tucking loose strands away from your face. Unable to resist, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple.

That seemed to have stirred you awake. You emitted a small groan and fluttered your eyes open, prompting him to step back slightly. But you reached out and held onto his shirt.

"Woo? Wh-what are you doing here?"

He shook his head, planting another kiss on your cheek before standing upright, his hands resting on his hips. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you sleep in the office, hm? Pack up now, we're going home."

Your heart warmed at his words. Just when you thought it wasn't possible to love him any more, he continued to prove you wrong each time. "Yes, sir."

Despite his directive, he ended up doing all the packing for you as your sleepy form waited by his side. After shutting down your PC, he reached for your bag and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Come, let's go."

Suddenly, in the elevator, he found himself wishing the trip would last longer. He pulled your cardigan snugly around you, sliding an arm behind your back and resting his forehead against yours. Admiring the way your sleep-deprived eyes drooped adorably, he grinned softly, biting his lip. His other hand cupped your face as he whispered, "Just hold on a little longer, love. You'll get to rest soon."

You nodded with a pout, and the sight of your tempting pink, soft lips made a sigh escape his mouth. "Good girl," he muttered before leaning in to capture your lips.

His heart skipped a beat when, despite your exhaustion, you responded to his kiss almost instinctively, though a bit more sluggish than usual. His heart swelled with affection at how your body reacted to him, knowing it was only for him. Stroking your cheeks lovingly, he deepened the kiss, only to let out a disappointed whine when the elevator dinged too soon.

You giggled, gently pushing him away. "You know we can continue in the car, right?" His excitement reignited at the suggestion. Insisting he'd help you with your things and settling you in the passenger seat first, he felt his heart flutter as he hurried to the driver's seat. "Alright, where were we?" he asked eagerly, only to find you fast asleep.

Of course, she's asleep. What did I expect?

He chuckled in disbelief, securing your seatbelt and shaking his head in amusement. As he started driving, he slipped his hand into yours, smiling when he felt your fingers unconsciously curling around his.

God, how he loved you.

ATEEZ Masterlist

This is me failing miserably at my "try to stay loyal to Park Seonghwa challenge" because what the hell is Jung Wooyoung so attractive for? The way bro made me write the longest timestamp to date...

Also, guess who clowned herself thinking she could post the first part of Mingi's TWTHH spinoff this weekend?🤡 it's only 1k+ words in so far, I was out all day yesterday and didn't get to write much huhu but hopefully by next week, it'll be out! Hopefully🤞🏻

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[geodebiome]

i had a tmagp theory that the numbers in blogsphere user Cinephobia12220's username mean something Already and even got as close as to thinking 1-22-20 would A1Z26 translate to A V T, MAYBE AN Audio Vigilo T___, and we'd get a new audio vigilo.

then i realized. its not audio vigilo! its vigilo audio. woops!

[endlessthxxghts]

Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | updates blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town. 

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason. 

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you. 

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction. 

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.” 

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you. 

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?” 

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up. 

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you. 

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of. 

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you. 

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts. 

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements. 

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter. 

“I said—” 

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm. 

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you. 

Well, apparently not everyone. 

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back. 

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips. 

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him. 

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines. 

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him. 

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life. 

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.” 

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you. 

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take. 

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now. 

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom. 

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming. 

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless. 

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself. 

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking. 

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered. 

Fuck. 

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you. 

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?” 

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics. 

You quirk your eyebrow at him. 

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure. 

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries. 

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here. 

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps. 

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it. 

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him. 

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to. 

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout. 

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him. 

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you. 

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming. 

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze. 

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again. 

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend. 

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces. 

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest. 

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss. 

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks. 

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?” 

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

[buckgasms]

Doctors' Barnes and Rogers (Part 3)

Part threeeeeee! This kinda gets a bit fluffy at the end so who knows what the heck is happening but I hope you enjoy it!

Doctor kink, breeding kink, dubious doctors behaving dubiously but also sweet so..... Also pregnancy talk so please avoid if that may upset you ❤️

Part One // Part Two

The next week you were inundated with tasks and paperwork to read over before your next session with the Doctors. Copious notes about your cycle, number of times you felt aroused in the weeks and detailed descriptions on what that consisted of.

It was a bit embarrassing to send these off every evening but Dr Barnes insisted it would be helpful. Some of your deepest fantasies, and some more recent thoughts about your recent encounter with two hot doctors. Hopefully they wouldn't judge you too much.

Dr Rogers had emailed you requesting images which you had felt even more embarrassed about, but complied in the name of science. You sent him images of your pretty pussy for the most part, but he also seemed to need pictures of your ass, breasts and even one of your mouth open. It made little sense to you but he said it was all required for the process, so you did it. The more you spoke to them and thought about having a little baby of your own you felt more desperate to get everything right and make them happy. You didn't want to risk them kicking you off the programme just because you didn't send a little picture here and there.

⚕️

Eventually the date arrived where you would go through the first procedure. You felt incredibly nervous but also so excited. You still didn't quite know what the process was going to look like, but if it was anything like your check up you were quite happy with that. Dr. Barnes did say it was quite 'revolutionary' so who knows what was in store?

It was a day time appointment for a change but the whole office was completely empty. "We shut the place for today, it's a special day sweetheart" Bucky said, guiding you into his examination room, a place you were starting to look forward to being. "I'm excited, but I do feel a bit scared Doctor." You mumble as he takes your coat and hangs it up before turning to you and taking your soft hand in his warm one.

"Hey, everything is going to be fine. Steve and I are going to take such good care of you and make sure you feel great the whole time. You've trusted us this far, keep going sweetie." You smiled and squeezed his hand back nodding eagerly. "You're right, it's going to be great..."

At that moment Steve walked in and smiled at the little scene in front of him. "How are we today? Ready to make a baby?" You giggled and nodded again making them smile at you. "Oh did all my pictures come through Dr. Rogers?" You ask, heat flaring in your cheeks as you suddenly wanted to know he liked them, even though that wasn't the point!

"Oh they were marvelous, really helpful. And your little diary was also enlightening. So glad you enjoyed your time with us last time..." You thought you might die from embarrassment but they just chuckled and nudged you.

"Ok sweetie, we're gonna try and few things out today, so if it's uncomfortable just tell us, the better you feel, the more chance it has of working right?" You nod and they start moving round the room as you wait for instruction.

"Right, we need you to undress now honey and we'll get everything set up." Steve said before providing a screen for you to take your clothes off. As you did so, you could hear movement on the other side, equipment being moved and a bit of huffing from the doctors.

You peaked around the screen and watched them set up a bench, with a thin flat leather cushion. It looked quite...kinky and you couldn't help feel a twinge of excitement through your body. They turned around and caught you peeking. "Come here sweet thing, nothing to be frightened of..." Bucky said, holding out a hand for you, which you gratefully took after shuffling over, an arm over your breasts as you approached them.

"This is a sort of breeding bench. You have to lay face down on this soft cushion here and we can stimulate you from either end. We can also tilt the bench once you are inseminated to make sure it really takes. You should be nice and comfortable but if you need to move at any time, you just let us know. Any questions so far?"

"Um, how will the...insemination bit happen?" You say quietly, nibbling on your finger and looking between them. "Well we can do it two ways. Either we can use a machine, but that might be a bit uncomfortable..." Steve said, looking at your seriously and you bit your lip. "Oh, what's the other option?" He rubs your back, making your skin tingle, before brushing your hair away from your face. "Dr. Barnes and I are happy to provide samples directly. That way we can adjust to your comfort and monitor you more closely."

Your eyes widened at the thought. You'd had a little bit of first hand experience with their direct approach. They were both very well endowed and you wondered out loud, "do you think I can take you?" They both chuckled and rubbed your arms and back, "absolutely sweetheart, we've done the tests and you're perfect for us... but it's up to you of course..."

There was a beat in the air until finally you nodded. "Let's do it that way. I don't want to be uncomfortable with a machine. Are you sure that's ok?" They nodded quickly and told you it was absolutely fine with them.

"Good, that's really good honey. Are you ready to start?"

They guided you onto the bench, your breasts hung down on either side of the leather and you rested your chin on your folded arms as they positioned your legs into place. You felt remarkably relaxed for the compromising position you were in, but you were in good hands. Hands that were now running over your soft skin, squeezing gently at you making you sigh.

"Feeling good?" Bucky asks, a clear amusement in his voice as his fingers squeeze at your ass cheeks before running down your leg. "Mmm yeah, this is so comfy" you almost moan.

"Good, anything changes, let us know. We'll get started then, just relax and let us do the work."

You try and watch them but it's difficult from your position, so you decide to close your eyes and try and figure it out from the sensations. You think it's Bucky who is settled between your legs, running his hands along your upper thighs, occasionally rubbing across your folds, making you moan quietly into your arms.

Your moan becomes louder when Steve grips your nipple between his fingers and starts squeezing and twisting. In moments you are humping Bucky's hand as he rubs more vigorously along your wet slit. "Good girl, so responsive for us hmm?" Steve mutters in your ear as he pulls and tweaks at you.

"Tell me how it feels" Bucky says and you whine, "feels good...want more please?" You are begging already, but it only seems to make them happy. Steve attaches a suction cup to your breasts which makes you cry out in delight before you feel his hand brush at your hair. You manage to open your eyes as Bucky sinks a finger into your pussy, his thumb rubbing firmly at your clit. "Want something in your mouth honey?" He asks and you moan, nodding your head and reaching for him.

His cock springs free and you immediately latch on, focusing all your tension and desperation on his thick length, sucking harder than you ever had. "Jesus Christ, she's feeling needy today" Steve growls, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts slowly in and out of your mouth.

Bucky, unable to retain his impatience anymore, slips his cock free of his boxers and lines up to your aching heat. Thanks to his excellent preparation he glides in until he is flush with your ass, and begins to rut. You are already fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them open.

"That feel good baby? You like that" he mutters, testing a quick spank to your pretty cheeks as he fucks you. Pausing for air you cry out a yes, before Steve guides you back to him. Tears stream down the face as pleasure rips through your body, their unrelenting pace already making you feel like you are floating on air.

"Gonna make us a baby ain't ya? Gonna be a good girl for us and make us a daddy hmm?" Steve says through gritted teeth as he pulls out of your hungry mouth. He crouches down and presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead. "Nothing I'd like more than to see you swallow my come honey, but gotta save it for your pretty cunt right? We're gonna fill you up.."

You nod and reach your hands out for him which he takes, pressing more kisses to your messy lips. "Already drunk on cock honey? We knew you'd be the perfect little candidate. Like a little bunny ain't ya? Just made for getting fucked and full right?"

As he goads you, Bucky rams his cock faster into your aching hole, his fingers rubbing at your clit from underneath. Your hips buck at the sensations but they have you tied down just enough that any movement doesn't get you very far. "Atta girl, gonna make me come, just keep squeezing me like that sweetness" he groans. The tension builds in your stomach until one final swipe has it snapping, your orgasm ripping through you and clamping down on Bucky.

His groans mix with your wails, as you squeeze Steve's hand even tighter until you drop everything, laying there panting as your lower half twitches. When he's satisfied Bucky pulls out but you suddenly feel Steve slide in and continue the steady pace.

"Ah I can't... S'too sensitive" you cry but Bucky has taken position at your head. "Come on sweetheart, we don't want to waste any samples. You can do it. For us, I know you can..." Steve keeps his hips moving steadily, but not too rough to hurt so you can only let the pressure build again. You watch Bucky fiddle with the suction cup on your breast, the vibrations and suction getting stronger until you can't contain your scream as another powerful orgasm rips through you and Steve is filling you up.

After a moment where you think you must have stopped breathing you feel the table tilt forward and a tape is put over your sensitive pussy. "Did so well for us baby. Gonna leave you here for a bit to get that settled, then we'll do it all again."

"Again?" You cry, not knowing how you could possibly manage another round of that. They chuckle and press a little kiss each to your face. "Yes silly, don't you know it takes lots and lots of goes to make sure it all works. Today's the best day to do it. Although we might even keep you in overnight so we can keep going..."

You begin to protest but Bucky presses another kiss to your face and switches on the suction cups, cutting your voice off immediately and replaces it with a groan. "That's better" he says before providing his thumb for you to suck on which you cant resist as he pushes it passed your lips.

"Don't worry, we want to take care of you sweetheart. We know just what you need..."

⚕️

After a few more rounds you needed to change position, so Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you to a more comfortable couch. From there, they both spent what felt like hours fucking you full.

The idea of getting you pregnant seemed to fill them with an insatiable lust. They fucked you until your holes were aching, each flick to your clit was like agony, but you couldn't resist how good it felt either.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're milking me dry?" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, as you could only mewl in delight. "Aw has our pretty girl gone dumb for cock" Bucky mocked softly as he rubbed your clit while Steve filled you up again.

Bucky swiftly takes his place, pushing your aching pussy apart and spitting on your messy heat. "Fuck!" You cry out, already on the edge as he presses in to you. "Don't let it come out sweetheart, dont wanna waste a drop do you?" You shake your head as he slides in and out, every nerve ending on fire as he does.

"See that little bunny" Steve says, tugging at your aching heat, making your squeal. "That's a pussy being used correctly, filled with come and begging for more... Fucking perfect.."

Your whole body shakes as he keeps rubbing while Bucky groans, unable to contain his orgasm as you come yet again.

"Good girl, take it all, every drop" he moans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he fucks through his release.

Finally they decide to move you somewhere more comfortable and in the space of moving you, you fall asleep so they leave you to rest for a little while.

When you woke there was a jug of water, a bowl of fruit and a plate of sandwiches which you tucked into. While you nibbled you glanced down at your aching heat and found it puffy and overused, but not feeling at all bad about it. Your mind drifted back to when you and your ex husband had tried for a baby and you sometimes never even orgasmed, let alone felt like this. You had realised that all along he had lied to you and made you feel terrible when it was him who was the problem. But you didn't want to dwell anymore on him. It was pointless.

You took in the rest of your body, swollen nipples, little marks from their hands and lips as they had kissed, and bitten and sucked at you. You bit your lip remembering how you had written all these things in your diary to them. Clearly they had taken it very seriously, which you appreciated.

As you were beginning to wonder where they were, they arrived back into the office where they left you. There faces full of brightness at the sight of you awake.

"There's our girl! Are you feeling ok sweetie?" They both took time fussing over you, pressing your tummy for any aches, massaging your legs and hands and pressing cold stethoscopes to your chest making you giggle, as they tried to warm them up but failing.

"I feel fine I promise" you said after calming down and gripping their hands. They both leaned in a pressed a kiss to each cheek, but you felt bold and leaned over to Bucky then Steve, stealing a kiss on the lips from both of them.

"Oh sweetie, you really are perfect ain't ya?" Bucky says, pulling you back for a longer kiss before guiding you over to Steve so he could kiss you deeper, making you moan.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you back in there, you ready?" Bucky says, squeezing your thighs and you nod eagerly. You go to stand but he tuts and slips his arms under you and picks you up, making you squeak and wrap your arms around his neck. "I gotcha" he whispers and you steal another kiss from him, feeling so safe and happy in his arms. Before you are finally released and eagerly climb into place and settle down, wiggling at the anticipation.

⚕️

After a whole day they decide that the work they've done should be enough for now. They take you home in Bucky's car with Steve carrying you up to your apartment, which although you insist ksnt nessecary, you grip him tighter and lay your head on his shoulder. While Bucky unlocks your door Steve presses kisses to your forehead, all of your feeling quite happy with the amount of kisses being passed around.

Seeing the sorry state of your flat you cringe as you go inside. At least you had the forethought to tidy before you went to them the day before.

Bucky finds your pyjamas and once Steve pops down he gently helps you change as if you are precious cargo. You giggle as you tell him so and he smiles at you. "Sweetheart, you are..." He presses a hand to your tummy and you smile back "the most precious as far as we're concerned..."

Your tummy flips with something new but you decide not to worry right now. You feel exhausted despite the many naps you've had. "Ok you gotta sleep, eat and drink as much as possible. Try to leave the shower or bath until tomorrow morning if you can just to be sure." Steve says, placing a big water bottle on your side, with a bag of groceries on your kitchen table, filling up the fridge with healthy but delicious goodies.

"Ok I promise...when do you think I can do a test?" You say, as you snuggle up into your blankets. They explain that you might have to wait until next week, but if it's negative they can just keep repeating the process until it sticks.

You nod, feeling nervous but excited. They both kiss you goodbye and leave. You feel suddenly overwhelmed at the silence, having had such a crazy 24 hours of close, initmate contact. You take a big drink of water before sinking back into your pillows, your eyes fluttering closed as your mind was filled with images of them surrounding you and the pleasure that comes with it.

⚕️

One week later you are waiting nervously in your bathroom, a pregnancy test perched on the sink as you nibble your finger and watch the stopwatch on your phone.

You daren't look. You've been in this position so many times before it just feels horrible. You still have 2 minutes to wait but you feel sick at the thought of what's to come. You fiddle with your phone for a moment until you decide to call Bucky.

He answers almost immediately, concern in his voice. "Hi sweetie, everything ok?" You are a little surprised at his quick answer so you stutter for a bit, which makes him even more worried. Finally you manage to choke out, "I'm fine!" You both take a breath before you restart.

"I'm waiting for a test... Got a few more minutes and I just.... I feel scared..." You say quietly, trying to ignore the tears pricking at your eyes. He sighs at the other end and you know he has a concerned look on his face still.

"It's all ok sweetness. Whatever it says we still got you alright? You don't need to worry becaise Steve and I are with you every step of the way..."

You can only nod as he talks, his warm deep voice filling you with calm. Your phone buzzes as the timer runs out and you take a deep breath. "Ok are you ready?" You say and he tells you firmly that he is and it's going to be fine.

With shaky fingers you turn the test over. A little gasp escapes your lips and he asks with a more stressed voice than he would probably like. "What does it say sweetheart?"

Finally you let out a shaky laugh.

"It's positive"

[wip]

For a long time now, it's been impossible to see comments or reblogs with comment/tags on posts over a certain age when using the mobile app or blog view. Today I was looking at a post from 2015 that I knew had at least one reblog comment and lots of tags, but all the reblogs were under "other". I found the comment (but couldn't see any tags) by going to the [blog name].tumblr.com/post/[###] link and scrolling through all the notes in one list, but it's impossible anywhere else.

I know this probably has to do with the many changes Tumblr has gone through in that time, but it's still really inconvenient to have disappearing notes on the platform where part of the charm is that posts can survive for, at this point, almost a decade and a half.

Is it even possible to fix this, and of so, is it something you would consider?

Answer: Hey there, @maplerosekisses!

It is possible to fix this, and we would like to fix it, but it’s a daunting problem at Tumblr’s scale. Buckle up for storytime.

Long, long ago, Tumblr was created, and in the beginning, there weren’t even notes on posts. There weren’t even reblogs or likes. In fact, we were one of the first platforms to introduce the heart icon and the concept of “likes”! We created the reblog! Back in those days, each of these actions were tracked separately. Likes were tracked in one database table and reblogs weren’t tracked at all as notes. When we introduced replies, those had yet another way of being tracked in our database. Totally separate entities on the platform for years.

Eventually, we wanted to consolidate these into one number—so we had to count each of those different places. That’s horribly inefficient, and as Tumblr grew in size and popularity, this became a bottleneck that hurt the whole platform. So one of the things we did was to invent a new denormalized database table called “notes,” to track all of these different things in one place so we could easily count them. We still have that table, and it’s still the fallback whenever we need to count the notes on a post.

But this itself is ancient history. Since then, the product has changed even more, and we removed replies and re-added them later, back in 2015 or so—and made some changes in that process to help further improve efficiency. These improvements allowed us to include media in the notes view, and be able to split out replies versus reblogs-with-comment versus likes (kind of going back to the way it was originally.) Even then, we didn’t yet support showing tag usage in the notes—that would come even later.

In the process of making all of these changes for efficiency and functionality, we had to ask ourselves, as you point out: should we try to backfill these new database tables with all of the data from before? For a long while, we were using both systems to power the notes view, so we could display as much information from “before” as we could. Eventually, we didn’t need to do that anymore, because the number of people scrolling back to that “before” time became infinitesimally small. And that's the situation we’re in today.

Because if we wanted to backfill the data, we would need to process literally tens of billions of posts and notes from before 2015, at a conservative estimate. Let’s say it’s 10,000,000,000, for the sake of argument: if we started an automated process to go through them at ~100 per second (which would be relatively safe at our scale, so Tumblr doesn’t break as we’re digging up these old rows in the database), it would take over three years of continuous operation to complete that task.

In situations like this, we have to ask ourselves if that’s worth it. So far, the answer we’ve determined is no. But we may find a more efficient way to do it, there’s undoubtedly a way, and when we do, we will re-evaluate the decision again. We hope that makes sense—trying to make changes to Tumblr can be really, really hard.

But thank you for your question. We appreciate them and hope that goes some way to answering your query. Keep 'em coming, y'all.

[winterbuckwild]

@flowercrowngods So sorry...

"Hey Robin, I think we have been missing each other, been a while. Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Hope you are having a great day. Guess ill..er...catch you later."

It had been nearly a year since he'd actually spoken to Robin. She'd gone to college across the country, so excited to finally get away from Hawkins; away from all the drama and trauma and pain, and Steve couldn't fault her for it. She was smart she had a dream and she was following it. And he loved that for her.

The phone calls started at a few times a week. Quick ones because they were both pretty broke, but it quickly became once a week when classes started. Every fortnight during exam season, and then an elaborate game of phone tag for a good three months when his shifts and her classes didn't match up.

Around month 7 he had sort of...given up. It had made him feel like a bit of a stalker in the end, his three phone calls to every one of hers, leaving shorter and shorter messages on her machine. He still wanted to talk to her every day, to tell her about the good things that had started happening to him.

How he'd gone to the library to figure out a sink issue and was too broke for a plumber and found out that he was pretty good with his hands. That he'd enrolled in trade school and was excelling. That he liked someone and he thinks it could be serious.

That the person he liked was a guy and that he was kinda scared and kinda excited and wanted someone to talk to about it. That the guy was Eddie of all people.

He wanted to gush about Eddie the way she used to with Vickie. That his hair was soft and his eyes were soft and his hands when he touched Steve were perfect and kind while his dimpled grin was wicked and promising. That Eddie was brave as fuck making the first move and patient with Steve's minor freak out that he was going through alone.

Eddie had helped him instead.

So it had been three months since Steve had tried calling, and he hadn't had a single message. No calls that he knew about and his machine worked fine. His number hadn't changed. He left the message as closure really, leaving a space in his heart for the friendship that changed him for the better, a friendship that he would always be grateful for. That he would always cherish.

But he couldn't keep waiting around, banging his head against that brick wall. He would always be there if she needed him but, well, she didn't really, did she? Not anymore.

He hung up the phone and grabbed his van keys. He'd traded in the beemer a month ago since he would need the space for tools eventually and it was like shedding that last little part of King Steve. The final nail in that coffin and he felt an odd sense of relief.

He was meeting Eddie before class, they were going to grab some lunch beforehand and then after come back and start packing up the apartment. Steve was moving in with him and he couldn't be more excited about it. He'd told Eddie that and the other man had beamed at him, just as pleased.

He didn't think about not having anyone else to tell.

[cameronspecial]

Neverending Texts

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Rafe's small crush on his tutor definitely doesn't lead him to text her a little too much.

A/N: Insipred by this post.

Masterlist

Rafe’s education is not a responsibility Y/N ever expected to have on her plate. However, tutoring seems like a no-brainer for the girl who likes teaching and it is not like she could say no to Ward Cameron. Plus, Ward offered her an insane rate and even though her parents are rich, it is still nice to make her own spending money. Rafe and Y/N’s relationship is odd, to say the least. He always seems to have an interest in her, while she would rather be kept out of his social circle. This dynamic is only intensified by Rafe getting her number to set up tutoring sessions. He’ll often send her random texts that are so out of pocket, but she knows he is trying to invoke a conversation between the two of them. During all hours of the day, she will randomly receive jokes, facts, or gossip from the boy. Her responses were always a single word, not inviting the discussion to go any further. It never deterred him from trying every day though. Her hand shoves the hook through the stitch and the hook grasps onto some yarn to be pulled through. The buzz from her phone freezes her hands. She picks up the device and lets out a breath with a shake of her head. What is your ideal date? Normally, his texts would allow her a one-word answer; however, this one can’t be answered as such and she feels bad if she ignores it. 

She takes a second to think about her reply. Baking pizza with extra mushrooms and a movie night. Maybe watch rom-coms. She sets her phone back on the desk and goes back to her crochet project. 

———

He is pleasantly surprised she gives a thoughtful answer to the text. It seems his tactic of open-ended questions has worked. It doesn’t shock him that her idea of a prime date is something more intimate. Y/N has always been more reserved, so it makes sense she would prefer one-on-one time with her date. He likes that. That sounds like the perfect date, except for the extra mushrooms. We’ll have to only put it on half of the pizza.

Who said you were invited?

He chuckles at her retort and shakes his head. Why is there someone else you are dying to go out with? He holds his breath at her reply, not wanting her to say what he thinks she might. The little bubble with three dots displays her effort to rejoin. It stops eventually and no new words appear in a new bubble. He bites the corner of his lips as his thumb hovers over the button. He decides to bite the bullet, bringing the phone to his ear. It dials three times before she picks up. “Wow, moving on to phone calls to tell me your random thoughts. You really are getting more persistent, Cameron,” she teases. He can hear something clatter on the other end, “Can you blame a guy for wanting to hear your voice, Teach?” She giggles with a sigh. “What did you need?” she urges. He shrugs, “I told you. I just wanted to hear your voice. I also wanted you to answer my question and to hear if you are lying.” “Why do you care so much?” she questions, rolling her eyes. 

“Because if you don’t have anyone else on your mind, then I was hoping I could be the one to take you on that date.” 

“I have no one else, but why me? What makes me so special in your mind?”

“You just have this je ne sais quoi to you that I can’t get out of my mind. We just click, Teach, and I know you can’t deny it.”

———

She traces the surface of her desk with her crochet hook as she tries to focus on his words. “I know you can’t deny it.” She would never admit she felt the spark he was talking about. It’s been something she tries to bury deep inside of herself because their personality dynamic would not make sense. Rafe likes all eyes on him and to be as loud as possible, whilst Y/N enjoys a quiet night in. The more she thinks about it, the faster her heart starts to beat, telling her to say yes. Yes to a chance at love. Yes to opening herself up to someone else. Yes to stepping outside of her comfort zone. “Okay, let’s go on a date.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[faetreides]

Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like

r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes

cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation

Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.

This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)

You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.

Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.

Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)

He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.

A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.

You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.

Your phone chimes again.

Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️

You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).

[ravenbloodshot]

Pick a Card- Your True Personality

1

2-3

4

5

Instructions: Take a deep breath, and get rid of all thoughts. Then choose a number or decide by looking at the photo, I don't recommend choosing a pile based off your liking for the celeb in the photos, but do as your heart desires. Let's hope your heart steers you to the right pile

Pile 1:

This most definitely is the pile that attracts a lot of PAC veterans (aka ppl who follow a lot of PAC readers). I'm getting the vibe that you may seek a lot of validation from not only people in your life but from PAC's as well, you can get really offended by negative traits that come up in these types of readings and also likely hate all forms of criticism. You are the type to romanticize life and have an inflated ego, thinking of yourself as on a higher pedestal than others. You guys are above average in the looks department and tend to get what you want using your looks/charm. Your not going to have much trouble attracting a romantic partner, but you will have problems making them stay. You can become quite violent and hysterical when you don't get your way and that can turn your partners off. It's as if ppl will find you attractive but once they get to know you, think your batshit crazy and wish to get going asap. I'm definitely getting the vibe that you act high and mighty and like your the queen/king bee out of deep insecurities. Like a person that gets told their pretty/handsome so they go along with that but lowkey live life not 100% sure that's the case. Not calling you a bully but I do see some case of that, if your not a bully could be that you were a victim of bullying or bullied others in the past. Either way you have some aggressive, bullying ways about you.

You may not hold a healthy view of love, believing that it's your partners duty to love and care for you but you don't have to particularly do anything for them. It's the energy of a person who's married to someone completely unconditionally in love with them, while they're just there for the money/gifts. I do think you take good care of yourself (going to the gym, nails done, hair done, skin care on point, closet full of clothes your size and also smaller sizes that your working out to eventually fit into etc...). Your likely single and not happy about it, although you'll never truly admit it to yourself and neither would you to your friends.

This is the pile that has dealt with a lot of heartbreak and may have turned to a selfish but self conscious attitude to cope with it.

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Pile 2:

Ooooo, very passionate and powerful. Im seeing a duality with the feminine and masculine energy (remind me of Ryujin). You guys may be my favorite, I just get this warm tingly feeling and this random burst of energy (If I could meet with you irl, ik I would love you 💕❤ )

You are very elegant and sophisticated, giving rich girl vibes and if not rich you strive to be (and not in the way almost all ppl strive to be rich but I actually feel like you have set plans in place for yourself, your not fucking around when it comes to you getting what you want). I'm getting this real sense of knowing who you are and what you want so your quite easy to understand, you may speak bluntly and get to the point. The femininity I mentioned before shows itself in how you care for others, you protect your loved ones and you won't hesitate to stand up for those weaker than you or just in a worse off position. It's like yeah you know your Queen bee but you don't think your above others in and of itself , you just know your above certain ideas/actions of others (I mentioned this queen bee energy for pile 1, but they seemed more 'fake it till you make it' types while you seem more relaxed and confident in your own crown and still willing to fix other's crowns). Now for the masculine energy. I keep hearing the saying "I rule with a iron fist", so you guys may be quite stubborn and set in your ways. I'm also seeing a bit of a temper, you guys give such Taurus vibes, but it takes a while for it to really show its head. I don't think you blow up for every little thing but once your temper ignites, there's no putting out the flames until the fire runs its course (I'm seeing Canadian fires, how terrible and drawn out they were, it's the same as your temper).You do hold this view of "I deserve.....", which can help you to have the confidence to go after who/what you want but when your entitlement is extreme/irrational, you can come off as just a pushy asshole.

You definitely have this healing vibe to you along with this innocent love of animals, plushies, kids and all things cute and cuddly. You may talk to your pets (if you don't own a pet, you should, they will bring you a deep sense of peace/happiness). You love to feel like you've fixed people and things, you can become obsessed with helping ppl get out of their troubles and try to tend to their mental/physical health. One thing I will say is I think your the type to love the chase in relationships (you may become obsessed with being with a person who doesn't want you).

Last thing is , you can be quite the chaos bringer. I'm seeing some type of trolling on social media, if not trolling, you could just be quite aggressive with how you write on social media. I'm seeing a lot of hidden actions and secret accounts 😏

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Pile 3:

This pile has the energy of air signs. Your the type to overanalyze and over think everything. Even when it comes to things that you say, you may think about your words quite carefully before you say them. You may be an empath or bc you analyze ppl so intensely, you can pick up on others emotions/intentions and change the way you speak to fit others state of being (for an example: if a friend was in a depressive state and quite down and out, you would know better than to try to joke around, you would communicate with more kindness in your tone and try to be understanding). You can be quite humble and the humanitarian, wishing to do good for others/society (you have the energy of a therapist).

Your sarcastic and witty, quick with the comebacks and yk how to roast ppl (lol). You could have been a victim of bullying or just grew up in a tough environment and later you learned to stick up for yourself by using your words (insulting your bullies, roasting them etc...). Your words are very powerful, likely magical. Your the type to speak things into existence, so if I were you, I would be careful with what I say (which i think you do anyways, I'm just putting this out to warn you). I do see you can be quite vengeful and you have a mindset of "I'll get them before they get me". This makes you very defensive and hostile at times. Not just that but you have some jealousy issues.

You could be dealing with a break up and your heart is not open to love rn. I do think you do try to stay in a positive mindset but you could end up hiding your pain behind your laughs and smiles. Not really the type of person to deal with your emotional pain head on. You don't like to stay in one place for too long, preferring to move/travel often.

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.

Pile 4:

You are very much in your power and know your worth. You could be after an unconventional career that many have told you that it could never come to be but you do as you wish not as your told. I'm seeing that your quite an attractive and sexy person, very well shaped body as well (could be quite curvaceous or your obsessed with having curves) but either way you look good. You command a lot of respect and admiration from others. A lot of ppl wish to be you, look like you, or have you. Your very talented in some kind of musical sense, your likely gifted at singing (or your voice is quite enchanting). You express yourself well, a lot of ppl feel compelled by you and the way you speak (you could live in a country where your accent is different from most). You definitely have the power and the influence to get what you want, it's giving 7 rings by Ariana Grande, " I see it, I like, I want it, I got it" 💅.

I do think you could be too attached to your looks though, it's like you believe if you gain too much weight or you don't keep/get the curves you desire, Noone would find you attractive. I also see some idolizing of others bodies as well (keep off of social media as much as possible, its okay to post yourself but try not to scroll mindlessly. That fake social media shit gets to you and messes with your spirit). You may have been on your own since a young age, having to learn how to navigate the world and its evils/goods on your own. Your very independent due to this and also street smart.

Your in a stage of your life where you may be sleeping around a lot, playing seductive games, being flirtatious and plainly dating. Your likely viewing love as a game rn, and not taking anyone too serious. (If you are wanting to be more serious with love and attract a committed partner, refrain from sex when you date, your an enticing person so your partner will drive themself crazy trying to please and be with you). Most of you in this pile are just having/looking for fun though so that only pertains to a few of you.

Unfortunately, you may be the type to get into a lot of relationships in which your partner cheats or turns out to be pyscho. This may be the reason why I don't think you believe in 'true + unconditional love' (could be parental issues, childhood trauma as well). Your romantic relationships will be the thing in this lifetime that bring you the most headaches and loneliness

.

.

.

Pile 5:

I got a vibe that this pile will attract a lot of fans of Niki instead of ppl who actually feels this pile will resonate to them, so those who picked this pile.

Turn around

Inhale

Exhale

Pick a pile

Welcome.

Okay. I feel like your quite young, probably in highschool or college. You've been through a lot in your life, in which at times you've felt abandoned or ostracized. But I think those experiences have made a stronger, more resilient you. You don't play a victim in life (even if you once were) and you don't encourage others in your life to hold onto victim hood as well. You know that you have to persevere through obstacles, not stay stuck in a pity party. You do have some codependency issues, you can be too clingy and hold onto others too tight. You fear others would leave you. You fear disappointing the ones you love. (I feel like you were "the nail that stuck out and was promptly hammered in"). So I think you may have anxiety about standing out too much or appearing too different from others. You have problems with understanding and respecting others boundaries (I just keep seeing an image of you holding onto a person, with strong grip, as they struggle to push you off). Instead of making ppl feel free and relaxed around you, you could make them feel uncomfortable.

Your a very book smart person. You have a fascination with unique things that most ppl would never think about and you come up with the most creative ideas. I think your more of a hoarder of knowledge and that you feel uncomfortable sharing your ideas with others, likely afraid they would laugh at you or say the idea is worthless. I feel like your not entirely moving forward with your life, your still haunted by your past. You could even recall voices of those who've insulted you or said very discouraging things to you and that can cause you to hesitate a lot in life.

I think this the ppl in this pile may be more sensitive and I want to make sure you don't feel hated or like I'm just another person confirming your own worst thoughts. I'm here to tell you to MOVE FORWARD in your life, don't let the haters win, don't hide yourself away. Prosper like the beautiful flower you are and always will be. 🌻

[maeby-cursed]

TRACK 1: MISDIAL !

Toji never calls.

It’s one of his most peculiar habits, that although he does carry his phone (a cheap flip-phone he hasn’t ever bothered upgrading) everywhere he goes, he never calls, never texts, never cares to take it out of his back pocket. And most importantly, he never picks it up.

Taking this into account, it’s no wonder that when his phone begins to ring at 4.30am on one of his off days, his first thought is to end it all. He spends so little time with it, he hasn’t quite yet figured how to turn off the sound... and now he’s annoyed. 

He grabs the item and stares at it, trying to make sense of the number that flashes on the screen, the green light blinding him momentarily.

“Fucking thing,” Toji mutters, trying to press any button that could make the ringing stop. Eventually he gives up and shoves it under his pillow.

It keeps on ringing.

“You’ve gotta be… fucking…” The phone flips open. “What?” 

“Toji?”

He freezes, his hand suddenly tightening around the metal as if to try and cage the sound.

It’s you. Your voice whispers his name once again and he’s never woken up this abruptly since Megumi was an infant.

“Uhm hello,” he stutters. Like an idiot. 

“Oh God it’s really you! Fuck, I’m sorry, I meant to call my friend and your surnames are so similar I must’ve pressed the wrong number… Fuck, it’s four in the morning! Christ, I’m really really sorry–” 

As you ramble he starts to shake his head, mouth agape, until he realizes you can’t see him. You have his number saved. You are on the other side of the line and he can listen to your breathing.

He starts to feel dizzy.

Did you just ask him a question?

“Uhm, it’s okay, uh… I was about to wake up anyway.” Sure. At 5am on a Sunday.

“Were you? Ugh, I feel terrible… Listen, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I have to hang up and call my friend or she’ll freak out but I will make it up to you, seriously. Please go back to whatever you were doing! I’m sorry. Again.”

And then you’re gone. 

The line goes dead and his hand drops to his lap with the phone still hugged inside the palm. He’s going to engrave the thing into his flesh at this point but he can’t mind.

Toji Fushiguro has known you for two years and yet he was unaware that you had his phone number. Did he give it to you? Did you write it down from the records? You called, you called, you called.

It’s been unbearable these past few weeks; he’s been off taking care of a less than legitimate job, which meant being away from his actually legal office job, which meant less time to stare at you as you pick up calls and take notes and greet clients and smile that pretty smile of yours. 

Now, your voice reverberates through his spine and he can’t help but imagine your eyes in the back of his mind. 

He’s never been a corny person, he’s not a great romancer and contrary to popular belief, he’s not much of a Casanova, but he knows when he’s in love. Toji’s but a man with a shielded heart whose barriers you’ve taken down with a hammer and a laugh.

So he yields. For the first time since he bought it, Toji opens his phone and saves a number under his son’s. 

For the first time in twenty years he chooses to pick up a call, to think of what you’ll come up with to make it up to him, to dream of you searching for him with your eyes… just this once. 

And, for the first time in a long long time, he falls asleep just fine, with a smirk toying with the corners of his lips and some hope with the strings of his heart.

© 2024, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.

[sockeye-station]

Wait is your four the captain? How did that happen?

YES! YES!! I GOT SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT! I WIN!!!!

CLEARS THROAT. OKAY OKAY OKAY IVE HAD THIS ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR A HOT FUCKN MINUTE AND ILL TRY MY BEST TO EXPLAIN IT IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE

OKAY. LETS REWIND ALL THE WAY BACK TO OCTO EXPANSION!!!

so! octo expansion goes all normally, we have our agent 8 fighting through the entire structure to escape, agent 3 gets brainwashed, they have to fight, yadda yadda. you probably know how it goes by now. But here's the thing.

what if i went ahead and changed a tiny thing. just the teensiest detail.

what if instead of spamming splashdowns, tartar decides to use one big fuck off booyah bomb.

"but, didn't booyah bomb come out after octo expansion?"

yes. yes it did. and that's why i chose booyah bomb specifically.

tartar whipped out the idea to use a booyah bomb from some prototypes it found out about after abducting god-knows-who, and used it despite its unstable build. No one, at that moment, knew whatever that was, what it did, how dangerous it was, or anything of the sort. This was some sort of last hurrah, as it knew that this was its last shot at stopping this failure from escaping the facility. And so it exerted Agent 3 into giving it everything he's got. Quite literally, even! It pushed him so hard, he too became unstable while trying to mantain and boost the energy ball.

The Booyah Bomb is thrown with as much power as Tartar could muster out of that creature, pretty much covering most of the arena. Once the ink settles, and Agent 8 gathers his senses, he looks around. Agent 3 is nowhere to be seen.

at no point in canon is sanitized agent 3 properly splatted throughout the fight — you only break their shield, they superjump back to their platform, and you eventually knock them out. you never splat them. so who's to say that, just like agent 8 during the ascent, they don't have a respawn anchor?

That's what I decided to play with here. Agent 3 is splatted with no respawn anchor. Agent 3 is dead.

The rest of octo expansion plays as normal, only that there's no passed out Agent 3 waiting at the helicopter.

Starting from here, Agent 8 becomes affiliated with the NSS through Cuttlefish after breaking the news, feeling like he needs to make it up for the loss they suffered as he feels responsible for it. He grows closer with Agent 4, and eventually they become closer friends, even staying at her place after she invited him once their friendship was more developed. This paragraph is mostly to explain how they know each other and how their friendship started, also explaining why my Agent 8 gives OtH Agent 4's number instead of Cuttlefish.

Okay! Now, back to the point of this ask. I actually had a bit of this typed out in a server I'm in!

[Agent 4] didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming Captain, being the fifth longest-standing member of the NSS after craig, the squisters and agent 3. craig was retiring, the squid sisters were still busy with their inkopolis celebrity scene, and [Agent 3] was dead. so she was the next best option.

she didnt really ask for this in the first place, and yet she accepted out of hopes of being acknowledged. When she was just an agent, the rest of the team didn't keep in touch with her much (except for Agent 8) after the events of OE, and at one point even stopped being called for whenever Callie got the shades on again. Whenever she patrolled, she did it without any previous call, and was rarely acknowledged by the others. She still kept visiting the canyon whenever she could after everyone else had moved on.

even after becoming the "captain", the others didnt usually reach out to her for assistance, and instead tended to act on their own. they never really took her as captain, rarely listening to her. so obviously this whole mess made her feel like absolute dogshit, questioning why she even decided to go through with this.

that title was meant for [Agent 3]. not for her. he was the one that came before her, and was better than her in so many ways. at least that's what the others kept repeating around her.

as much of a punch in the gut being constantly compared to someone else was, she kept pushing to try and make herself known, separate from the other's achievements. which is why she ended up accepting marina's request.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Nother Idea: Steve has a really bad migraine when he sees his parents for the first time post spring break from hell. He is still recovering from his injuries & his parsnts don't know how to help him. He is in tears begging his father or mother to get him Rob or Eds. And they have no clue who that is. The other parent finds a note by the main house phone and one by his bedroom phone with the names Robin & Eddie with their numbers. And they watch their adult son get coddled by a lesbian and a metalhead. Bsjsjcjdjd maybe they find out about the UD???

I TOOK A BREAK FROM PLANNING OUR WEDDING FOR THIS MY LOVE!!! You know how I feel about migraine Steve and you know how I feel about some good old hurt/comfort and how I feel about Steve's parents just being shitty always. It's like you wrote this request from MY BRAIN. It's a bit shorter than I could've done, but I am rushing out the door at this point and wanted to have it posted today in case I can't tonight. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------------

Luck was never on Steve’s side.

He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, his brain and body constantly running through checklists of things he had to do and people he needed to check on.

It was catching up with him in the form of the worst migraine he’s had in months.

And now his parents were home.

He could hear them talking downstairs, their voices carrying and making Steve wince against his pillow.

He managed to close his curtains when he got up to use the bathroom this morning, but hadn’t managed to do anything else. Including close his door.

He hadn’t really expected that to be an issue since he was alone all the time.

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months. They hadn’t even bothered to call when the “earthquake” hit.

He kept his eyes closed in hopes that they wouldn’t bother him, maybe they’d even close his door for him if they thought he was asleep.

Wishful thinking.

His dad’s booming voice was suddenly right next to him, echoing around his room and his head.

“It’s the middle of the damn day, Anne! He can’t sleep his life away!”

Steve let out a groan, burying his head as far into his pillows as he could to avoid some of the noise.

His father would give up eventually, probably call him something terrible, be disappointed, the usual. But he’d leave, and Steve could bask in the peace and quiet again.

“Do you hear me, Steven? Anne, he’s ignoring me!”

Steve groaned again as he heard his mother’s voice from the doorway.

“Richard, he’s clearly hungover. We should come back later.”

Steve loved that idea. If they left, he could try to sleep this migraine off.

“I’m not just leaving him! He has to act like a responsible adult someday, Anne. We don’t pay for this house for him to spend his days hungover in it.”

“Not hungover.”

Steve’s voice was muffled against the pillow, his head pounding with every movement of his lips, but he knew he had to at least try to stick up for himself.

“So you’re just a useless sack in the middle of the day on a Thursday for no reason, then?”

Steve let out a whine at the sharp pains shooting through his head.

“Eddie. Call?”

Words were hard when your head was trying to implode on itself.

“Who is Eddie? Is that the person who got you drunk? I will not be calling this Eddie person, and I expect you to be up, showered, and dressed by the time we are back from our business dinner. Do you understand?”

“Robin.”

“Isn’t that your girlfriend? Is she responsible for this?”

Steve wanted to scream that the people responsible for this were dead or Russian spies who were hopefully dead and no thanks to either of his parents, he often spent days like this.

Not as often since he practically had Robin and Eddie living with him, but enough.

“No. Eddie.”

“Eddie isn’t your girlfriend.” Anne was closer now. “Do you need medical attention? You’re not making any sense. Oh goodness, Richard, maybe he’s having a stroke.”

His side was pulsing. Eddie said his did too sometimes, a casual reminder that they’d been nearly eaten alive. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as his head, though.

He needed to get to his phone so he could call Eddie.

Eddie knew what to do to help. He wouldn’t be scared of his parents.

Just as he started to move his head so he could try to roll out of bed, he heard his mom speak again, much lower, probably directly to his dad.

He had extremely sensitive hearing when he had migraines, though, so he could still hear what she was saying.

“This note has those names with phone numbers. Maybe we should call them?”

“It’s just a hangover. He has to man up.”

“It just seems like more than a hangover. He’s in real pain.”

“You do what you want. Coddle him if you must. I have a business dinner to get ready for.”

He heard his father leave the room, but didn’t bother moving.

His mom was suddenly talking into the phone.

“Is this Eddie? Yes, this is Anne Harrington. Steve’s mom, yes. He had your number written down by the phone. He’s asking for you and he seems to be quite hungover. It’s not? Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, could you come keep an eye on him, then? I would appreciate it. I could pay you.” Steve heard yelling on the other end and tried to smirk, but his face was in too much pain. “Okay, see you soon.”

“Steve? Eddie’s coming. He didn’t want any money or anything to sit with you, but I’ll leave some on the counter just in case.”

“Loves me.”

“What was that?”

Steve turned his head to the side so he could say it again, emphasize to his mother that people actually loved him.

“He loves me.”

He was met with silence, but he was happy about it, his head still finding new ways to hurt even after 100 migraines.

His mom left the room, but he knew Eddie was coming, so he rested.

When he woke up, Robin’s hands were in his hair. She was gently combing through it, from scalp to ends, being careful to avoid any tangles that may have been hiding.

“Robs.”

“Hey Dingus,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t handle normal talking voices when it was this bad. “Gave Eds and I quite a scare having your mom call, you know.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Eddie?”

“He’s downstairs giving your parents the riot act while he unloads groceries. He’s pissed.”

“At me?”

“No, never you. He’s got your extra strength pain meds that you were out of though.”

Steve had forgotten to get more last time he went to the store and he admittedly wouldn’t be this bad off if he had them ready to go when he woke up this morning.

But Eddie always took care of him and Robin always took care of him, and he was allowed to not have to do everything for himself anymore.

“It’s like you don’t even care that he’s hurt because of fucking government conspiracies!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin’s hand froze as they listened to Eddie and his dad go back and forth.

“The Russians almost killed him! Where were you? Not fucking here! The monsters almost killed him! Where were you? Probably on a business trip or whatever it is you rich fucks like to do with your time that should be spent checking in on your son.”

“Oh boy,” Robin slowly started to get up, causing Steve to whimper. “I’m gonna send him up here to cool off. Just breathe.”

So he did. He breathed in, then out, in, then out.

He did that until he felt Eddie’s hands in his hair, lips on his forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against his hair. “Brought you some water and meds.”

“Yelling?”

“They deserve it. But don’t worry about that right now. Just take these pills and sleep. I got ya.”

“Got me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, always got you.”

He could hear Robin yelling downstairs now, but he didn’t focus on it, following Eddie’s advice and sitting up just enough to swallow the pills and half a glass of water.

As he fell asleep, he heard Robin whispering to Eddie.

“He’s got us, at least.”

“Yeah, he does.”

[askagamedev]

About Unity these past few days

A lot of people have asked me about Unity and their strange new per-install charges policy that they rolled out on September 12th, 2023. I wanted to give them at least 24 hours before I posted my take on it - let the dust settle a bit so I could get a chance to read the new policy properly and all that. First, however, I think we need to take a step back and get a wider perspective. Unity Software Inc. is in some serious financial trouble. Here are their operating numbers from 2019 to 2023.

The blue line here is how much money they take in and the red line is the amount of money they are spending each year. You may notice that they are spending significantly more money year over year than they earn. In fact, over the past 12 months alone (August 2022 to August 2023), Unity Software Inc. has lost almost $1 billion.

In 2022, Unity spent four times as much money as they did in 2019. If they had managed to keep costs at double their spending in 2019, they still would have earned $243 million in profit. Instead, they lost $882 million in 2022.

Where does all of this cost come from? In any software company like Unity, the vast vast majority of costs comes from employee salaries. And we can directly see it in Unity's number of employees:

Unity Software Inc. more than tripled its headcount from 2019 to 2022, and it did all of this hiring during the pandemic while competing with many many other developers all trying to hire from the same pool. I don't work for Unity, but I was in the market and I had lots of recruiters trying to recruit me during that time.

In short, Unity is suffering from the same miscalculation that Embracer Group did, that EA did, that Activision-Blizzard did, that Square-Enix did, and just about everybody else in the tech industry - they misjudged the good times at the beginning of the pandemic, overspent hiring people thinking the good times would last, and are now scrambling to figure out how to survive. The difference is that Unity was getting all of their operating money from Venture Capitalists (VCs) hoping that they would eventually become profitable, but VC money has all but dried up because it's become much more expensive to borrow money over the past two years.

As a result, the Unity executives are likely grasping at straws in hopes of saving a sinking ship. This wild and decidedly senseless pricing plan is their (seemingly-desperate) attempt to juice their revenues. It really makes very little sense from the developer perspective, which is what makes the whole thing reek of desperation. That isn't greed talking, it's survival. My guess is that Unity is currently desperately looking for a buyer to save them and doing whatever they can to buy themselves some more runway. They already announced layoffs back in May, but I suspect they'll probably have to announce some really big layoffs (e.g. 40-50%) soon. Unity Software Inc. is living on borrowed time and they know it.

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[serpentarius]

been trying to wrap my head around the cancellation of "Our Flag Means Death" and why it hurts so fucking much. lots of folks who are much more eloquent than I have summed it up perfectly, but I still think it’s important I add my voice to the matter. 

It really, really sucks that the hurt is being compounded on us every time another queer/minority-led show gets prematurely cancelled. and for a long while, we also had to deal with the many shows that deliberately queerbaited us, which was a shitty and traumatic experience unto its own. And even though we’ve largely surpassed that early-‘00s-flavoured brand of queerbait now, mainstream queer media is still predominantly white-led. With the cancellation of OFMD, we've lost one of the very few intersectional queer shows in the mainstream. Shouldn’t we be beyond asking for crumbs at this point? Shouldn’t we get unabashedly intersectional shows helmed by and starring queer, BIPOC, and trans folks without them being axed for no rhyme or reason?

It’s exhausting at this point, honestly. OFMD has done so well in terms of viewership and engagement and fan response—almost entirely due to word of mouth and little thanks to the Max marketing team, mind you—and even still the show got cancelled? Can they make it make sense????

For me, the thing most akin to this OFMD situation was when Sense8 got cancelled. And yes, the fandom fought, and we eventually DID get a movie that wrapped things up years later! That gives me hope for OFMD, that maybe another network will pick it up, or maybe they’ll be able to make a movie someday. But what makes me sad about cases like Sense8 is knowing that the creators still had to force the narrative around the amount of time they were given. That the corporate overlords who only care about numbers and profit dictated how much time they had to wrap up their story.

And it fucking kills me that DJ only wanted one more season. One more season to complete the vision.

I'm just so mad that queer people are constantly being jerked around and used for profit and then left high and dry. And then we're given excuses like "oh there's no budget" or "oh there's not enough viewership, that's all it is". like, sure, maybe those are contributing factors, but then I look at all the useless garbage shows that have little viewership and high budgets that keep going forever and then I think "hmmmm, the math ain't mathing." It's fucking transparent; the corporations can spew all they want with their rainbow capitalism and talks about diversity, but the evidence is clear, and they can't convince me homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc. is not a factor in these decisions.

Anyways, back to OFMD. OFMD made me fall in love with fandom again. I drifted away from fandom for a while in my 20s, and while OFMD wasn't the first fandom that drew me back into the madness, it's certainly the largest. The sheer amount of creativity both within the show and outside of it has blown me away; I've read some of the best fics, seen some of the best art, and witnessed some of the most incredible creativity from people in this fandom.

And let's not forget the role of the show's creators and how they've interacted with us fans. They made us feel seen. And made us feel loved and valid, even when we were being weird and loud and horny. It's so fucking rare to see that. But they understood; understood that the show they made was for us, for any of us who've been marginalized or made to feel Othered or different or stuck in life or unsure of our identities. And they gave us so much love for it.

The story... man. The unique combination of quirky humour and bright visuals and dark, introspective moments, the gorgeous costumes and soft, lovely, unabashed queerness, and veteran actors and new actors all getting to shine, brilliant comedic actors getting to show off their dramatic chops and vice versa. For me, seeing Rhys Darby - an actor I've loved for a long time, but who I never thought I'd see in a leading role - getting to be the romantic lead in a queer role? And seeing acclaimed director/producer/screenwriter/actor Taika Waititi play opposite Rhys, as an indigenous Blackbeard? Fucking incredible. OFMD Edward Teach you will always be famous to me.

Anyways... despite my long ramblings here, I still don’t think I've been able to get to the root of WHY exactly this show has inched its way under my skin and stayed with me in the way it has. Maybe I'll spend years trying to understand it. But I DO know that it's in part to do with seeing both older queers AND a diverse range of queerness onscreen, in a way that I've never seen in media before. I DO know that OFMD has forced me to look inwardly, and allowed me to realize some important things about myself. About my own queerness, my own identity, things I'm still figuring out. I've cherished being able to see myself in Stede, in Ed, and each of the crew members. In Roach’s love for cooking, in Oluwande’s ability to mediate; in Jim’s quick temper, in the way Izzy builds walls to guard his heart. In Buttons’ quirkiness, in Wee John’s sass, in Frenchie’s ability to turn pain into humour; in The Swede’s silliness, in Lucius’ bluntness, in Pete’s soft heart beneath the skepticism. Lastly, OFMD has inspired me. To create, to write, to draw, to devour other peoples' works and worlds while I sit in sheer, overflowing joyousness at their talent.

so yeah. the news of this cancellation is upsetting and hurtful and disappointing. And it's making us cry, and it's making us grieve, and may make us hollow and numb at times because we've lost yet another thing we love so deeply before it was meant to go. It's so much more than "just a TV show". It means more to us than any passive mindless idiotic mind-numbing bullshit - because even though there's a time and a place and a purpose for that type of media, it's the thought-provoking work, the work that creators pour their entire hearts and souls into, that hit us deep in our own souls. The work that changes our lives. The work that has the ability to save lives, as I know OFMD has done for so many. 

please know I'm sending immense amounts of love and strength to those of you who are also hurting. we'll get through this, one way or another, and I'll keep up with the hope that we'll get more someday; but in the meantime, I'm holding you tight. ❤️️🫂

[the-archxr]

just like in the movies

steve harrington x afab!reader

summary: yours and steve’s friends with benefits situation becomes a whole lot clearer. alternatively, steve promises to fuck you until you realize just how much he loves you.

a/n: *gif isn’t mine, it’s from pinterest* this. THIS IS THE ULTRA SMUTTY SHIT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. WHEN I GOT THIS IDEA I STARTED SWEATING BUCKETS CAUSE HOLY FUCK. ONE OF THE SMUTTIEST THINGS IVE EVER WRITTEN (I listened to a lot of the weeknd, so I’m not surprised).

warnings: +18 content, SMUT CITY, minors dni; unprotected p in v; use of 80s sex toys (steve bought her a vibrator); jealous!steve/romantic!steve/dom!steve; size kink (steve has a monster schlong); hair pulling kink; biting; overstimulation; praise kink; boob play; masturbation; dirty talk to the fucking MAX (steve calls her a slut); mentions of multiple orgasms; use of different positions; rough sex; oral sex f receiving (cum eating); steve’s breeding kink; mentions of porno movies (this is also prolly the plot of a porno honestly 🙃) lil’ bit of fluff

word count: 7.1k (of pure smut babyy)

main m.list | steve harrington m.list

part one (can also be read on its own)

•••

To say you were unsatisfied would be an understatement.

The understatement of the goddamn century.

An hour ago you drove to Rick’s house, where he proceeded to have sex with you, only to cum within the first five minutes of hardly-there foreplay. You hadn’t even realized he finished until he was shuddering into the condom, stroking your hair as though you were a prized possession. A sex toy to let out his lack of stamina on. You had pretended to cum while he was still lost in his high, hoping that you wouldn’t have to deal with the eventual lecture of how it was ‘you’re fault’ that you were ‘too tense’.

Rick wasn’t your first rodeo for guys like that, but part of you hoped it would be different for your first time. That he would be different. He would be caring and attentive and make sure you came first.

You hoped he’d be like Steve.

You hoped that he’d kiss your knuckles and rest his face in your neck as he came. You hoped that he would’ve mumbled praise after praise in your ear as he slowly brought you to that edge before tossing you off with a bite on your collarbone.

Or…

You hoped that he would’ve at least, lasted longer than twenty fucking minutes.

But no. The little shit didn’t even give you a chance to build up your arousal whatsoever. Not even to the point where you would at least be able to finish in the safety of his bathroom.

Thinking back on it, you’re not even too sure he realized you had faked it. That the shitty, high-pitched moan you let out was false, and that he wasn’t in fact ‘giving it to you’, regardless of how many times he mumbled that above you.

The entire thing was stupid. Silly and irreparable and downright annoying.

Because an hour ago you left to go have what was supposed to be really good sex.

And a half hour ago you came home to sit on an empty couch, in your empty house—extremely horny and far hungrier for something that wasn’t microwave mac n’ cheese.

You needed to be fucked. Properly, until you were drooling and unable to speak.

So really, without a second thought, you left your dinner plate on the kitchen counter with your keys still stuffed in your pocket and a new sense of determination.

•

The drive to Steve’s apartment was familiar. A second nature route that guided you from one end of town to the next, up the stairs of his apartment and to number 38. What wasn’t familiar though was the locked front door.

Regardless of the monstrosities—the mind flayer, the bad men, Billy—Hawkins, Indiana was still Hawkins, Indiana. A boring small town in the middle of nowhere full of endless country dried up plains and empty streets.

This meant that other than hicks, and the occasional sense of the end of the world, there was nothing to even be remotely afraid of. And really, nothing that would warrant your friend to lock his door: something he has never once done in all of the years you’ve known him.

There’s a part of your mind that prickles with nerves.

So you knock.

It’s loud and curt and would leave enough room for you to hear the sounds of padding feet. Or any sign of life for that matter. So you wait. You wait for one, two, nearly four minutes and yet you hear nothing.

So you knock again, only to be met with dead silence again.

You go to knock for the third time, but then your ears pick up on a whimper. A low sob which is hardly discernible until it’s accompanied by a crackle of television and a creak of the floor. Putting your ear to the door, you concentrate on trying to pick up on any other sound you can.

But after nothing happens, you choose to dig through your pockets until you come across the spare key he gave you.

Pushing it in, you slowly turn the lock until you hear a soft click and the door falls open. His apartment is dark. Pitch black, with the only semblance of light coming in from the thick curtains covering the living room window.

“Steve?”

Quiet.

“Steve?”

The agitation that tickles you at the back of your neck morphs into fear. Because Steve is usually a light sleeper. One of the lightest sleepers you know, easily woken up by something as soft as the sound of rain. So with no response and a locked door, your heart jumps at the possibility of something horrible.

Gone is the thought of your needy arousal. Now you worry about your friend's life and what you’ll find when you come across his body.

If you come across his body.

You’ve had nightmares like this. All eerily similar to the current events playing out. It all begins like this with you walking through his kitchen and down the main hall, only to end in the worst.

The bedroom door is closed, having been forced shut without any lock on it. The air surrounding you—frigid and nail-biting—feels like death. Completely lifeless other than the light of the tv bleeding out from under the door.

The faint sounds come back, but as hard as you try to listen, you can’t make them out at all. And though that still concerns you, it doesn’t deter you. Everything acts like a magnet, drawing you closer to the source of the noise and the end of the mystery that causes your heart to slam against your ribs.

Your hand grabs ahold of the doorknob and as you open the door slowly, you start to realize what exactly you’re hearing.

And what you’re seeing.

Through the small space, you can see…a movie. It takes you a second to understand what you’re seeing, but when it finally clicks, you can’t help but feel flushed. There are flashing images of a woman bouncing on what looks like a guy dressed in a pizza delivery costume. Over-exaggerated echoey moans are then met with softer noises. Ones that sound as though they’re coming from right beside you. Instinctually you look to your left, only to find Steve in a compromising position. He’s lying on his bed in the corner of the room, spread eagle, pants by his ankles and cock in his fist.

His hand is tight around his length, pumping quick and hard as his hairy thighs flail around. His head is flat on the pillow, jaw wide open as he mumbles incoherently, twitching every time his thumb runs over his tip.

You gulp at the sight, legs tightening together both at the perversion of watching him and in hope of bringing some sort of relief.

He looks beautiful like this.

Granted, Steve Harrington is always beautiful. Pretty beyond words. Soft hair and honey eyes and strong hands covered in moles and freckles and the evidence of a life lived.

He’s like a deity. A demi-god of sorts, like the kind you learned about in your junior year ancient history class. Hercules and Perseus. Man and god, divine and mundane.

Beautiful and otherworldly.

You can tell he’s close, chest rising in shallow puffs of stunted air. His fingers tighten against himself; squeezing the base and dragging upward, only to repeat the motion again even faster.

You shouldn’t be watching this.

But you can’t look away.

“Steve?”

You scare him shitless. He jumps, nearly ten feet off the bed only to flop on his stomach and onto the ground. He seemingly disappears, the only thing visible of him being a hand that frantically searches for the remote.

“Jesus fucking Christ, —!” He shuffles around on the ground for a bit, yanking on his pants as he grabs a pillow and covers his hard-on. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Throwing your hands up in the air, you turn on the bedside lamp closest to you, yellow light warming up the room as your eyes readjust. “I—I thought you were hurt!” You stutter.

“Hurt? What do you mean hurt?”

Huffing, you force yourself to keep looking at him and not the incredibly dirty image paused on the tv screen. “Your door was locked.”

His eyes widen. “…what?”

“Your door was locked, Steve, your doors never locked. I was worried.”

“So?” He yelps, taking the remote and permanently turning the tv off. A red flush deepens across his face, swirling down his neck and blooming beneath the collar of his shirt. “You don’t just walk into someone’s house when their door is locked.”

“You gave me a key, and you didn’t respond when I called out for you.” You roll your eyes, averting your gaze to the floor as embarrassment starts to take over. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you were jacking off?���

Groaning, Steve falls backward into the bed, hands flying up to cover his eyes. Shaking his head, his palms dig into his eye sockets. “Gross, don’t say that—“

“What? Jacking off?!”

“Yes, it’s—it’s just—“

“That’s what you were doing!”

“It’s my home!” He whines, looking away to continue avoiding you. “If I want to jack off with my door locked then that’s what I’ll fucking do!”

You blink at him in bewilderment, anxiety running you both to the ground as you try to ignore the other. With a long sigh, Steve crosses his arms and blinks up at the ceiling, giving way to the silent dance you both are partaking in. It isn’t until he’s running a large hand through his sweaty hair, that he exhales deeply. “What are you doing here anyway? …Thought you were out with Dick.”

“Rick,” you correct.

“Same difference.”

“It’s really not,” you snap. Wringing your hands out, you lean against the wall, jitters running up your arms as the tension in the air slowly begins to disperse. You feel incredibly exposed, the memory of why you’re actually here coming back to the forefront of your mind. Shaking your head, you bit at your cheek. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter now ‘cause it didn’t end well. Probably won’t see him anymore.”

If Steve has any reaction, any thoughts or comments or feelings on the matter, you don’t see them. His expression is unreadable. “Is—did he do something wrong?” He finally says.

You laugh. A half-hearted chuckle as you fall onto the edge of the bed, much like you’ve done a million times before. “It’s more like what didn’t he do.” He doesn’t respond, but his gaze does shift over to you. He waits for you to continue; eyes imploring you to do so while he sits there. Groaning, you lie down beside him. “Well I went there to y’know…we were going to…anyway… We’re doing it, right? Like we’re getting ready and then—then he ends up coming like the second he puts on the fucking condom.”

“…Jesus.”

“Right?” You grit your teeth at the memory. All the frustration from earlier bubbles over into word vomit; things you weren’t exactly planning on telling Steve but can no longer stop from escaping. The proverbial cracking dam. “And then, oh, and then the fucking kicker! When he’s done pretty much fucking himself, he has the audacity to ask me if I came. Ya know the whole—“ you lower your voice with a cough. “‘Was it as good for you as it was for me?’ type bullshit.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Steve's grimace. “Gross.”

“Ugh, I know!” You cry, squirming in your spot on the mattress. “Like shit, I didn’t even want to go over, but I was lonely and…and I guess I thought that maybe it would be different?” You let out a sigh, an exasperated sound as you stretch your body out. “But Jesus, if I knew what I know now I wouldn’t have even wasted the fucking time.”

The two of you sit in silence again; shoulders touching with your fingers dangerously close to intertwining with the other. There’s a different kind of strain on the situation—a different feeling that graces both of your equally frustrated selves.

Steve still holds the pillow over his crotch, fingers digging into the corner of it every time he shifts his hips; a gesture that you’re intensely aware of and acutely turned on by.

Except you reason that maybe you lost the moment.

Maybe you imagined too much for tonight, and you jeopardized everything.

Your original purpose for being here was lost to time, mixed up in enough confusion and shock to shadow your moody arousal. And now, you’re just sad. A painfully lonely person who’s just beginning to realize how painfully lonely they are. Pathetic to the point where you have to go to your friend to try and get your rocks off, only for him to not want you either.

You don’t even try to stick around to ask him if he wants you.

Part of you thinks maybe he fell asleep, but then he stirs as you get up and stride toward the door. “Where are you going?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you tug at the wrinkles in your shirt. “I’m sorry, I—I just wanted to talk. But I…I should go home.”

Steve’s hand wraps around your forearm pulling you towards him. He doesn’t say anything, though, with the way he strokes circles into your elbow, you consider that he doesn’t have to. “Why are you here, —?”

“I told you,” you sigh. “I was lonely. I just—I needed to talk. But we talked and you’re…you’re clearly busy, so it’s okay. It’s okay, Steve, I’ll see you tomor—“

“Are you still lonely?”

The even pace of your heartbeat stutters. “What?”

He gulps then, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes squint together. There’s something he’s concentrating on or something he’s holding himself back from. You can’t exactly tell. But you can see that it’s bothering him. That whatever he’s thinking is especially troublesome as it hangs in the balance between you. “Are you still lonely?” You frown.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ste—“

“Cause I think you are.” He mumbles, pulling your hand closer to his face, twisting and turning it delicately in his grasp as he inspects you. “I think you need the company, sweetheart.” He places a butterfly kiss on the main vein on the inside of your wrist. “And I also think you need a good fucking orgasm.”

Oh.

The pit of your stomach opens wide at his words. A gaping hole that plummets with the fire of his touch, with the way his hair falls in his face, and with the way he looks at you.

He looks at you like you’re everything. Like you don’t really exist, and you’re nothing but a mirage.

One that is only tailored to him.

You’re still when he stands up, not even moving when his hands come up to your shoulders and his mouth lands on your cupid’s bow. You softly exhale. “…And not just from some rich douchebag…” his knuckles stroke your forehead, face’s already slanting together—an assumed position as your body complies with him. “You need to be fucked by someone who cares, honey.”

You roll your eyes and grumble, a surge of confidence washing over you. “Like who? …like you?”

He smirks at your quip, at your ability to bite back even in the heat of the moment. Pressing his lips to your mouth, he hums. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Kissing him back, your hands smooth over his chest, down his stomach and to the edge of his Henley. You’re already breathless, having all the air in your lungs been kissed away in a matter of seconds. He has you against the wall, making a mess of your mouth as he sloppily kisses you. “Well then show me…” you nip at his upper lip and sigh into him, taking the time to breathe and examine the solemn look on his face. “Show me how much you care.”

You don’t even need to ask him twice.

Instantly, Steve undresses, guiding you to the bed with wandering pesky fingers tugging at the hem of your own shirt.

His mouth is everywhere, bruising kisses searing into every span of skin; every body part revealed as he removes your clothes piece by piece. Slow. Tantalizing. A mix of having intense control over himself, and none at all.

As though he can’t make up his mind when it comes to you.

His lips are wet, red and raw as they glide over your chin, down your neck and to your collarbone, only to mouth at the flesh above your bra.

Wherever his mouth isn’t, his hands are.

One palm lays flat against your knee, forcing them apart so that way he can nestle between your thighs, legs dangling precariously off the bed. He kisses you like his life depends on it, going back and forth between your face and your chest as he moves the strap of your bra down your arm.

Holding your jaw in place, he squeezes your cheeks until your mouth is wide enough for him to jam his tongue into. His kisses are filthy, frenzied and passionate, yet slow and steady all the same. He’s doing everything and nothing as he works you. The slow start-up of an engine. Preparation for a long fucking night.

Your tongues battle for dominance as your hands card through his hair, holding him in place as you begin your own assault on his lips. Tugging on his head by his roots, he moans loudly before jutting his hips into yours. Pulling away, your spit covers his lips only to be smeared along your neck as he sucks a bruise right below your ear. “You’re so fucking pretty, ya know that? That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Your heart thrums at his words. At the angsty confession that sounds a lot like what you’ve been wanting to hear, yet being nothing of the sort.

Contrary to popular belief—to the rumours spread through the halls of Hawkins High and what you’ve overheard from a string of dates leaving Family Video—Steve Harrington is a romantic at heart. And part of you has always known that. Has always assumed his hidden desire to have someone need him as much as he needs them. You could see it everywhere you went; in the longing looks he’s sent to couples walking out and about, to Nancy and Johnathon when they get so easily wrapped up in each other on movie night.

The girls that left him all complained to you and Robin about him being ‘preoccupied’; too caught up in the idea of love to appreciate what was actually in front of him. Apparently, too caught up in the idea of another person to truly care about them.

The notion always seemed silly to you. The idea that Steve couldn’t and wouldn’t give his hundred-and-ten percent to the person he was with, when he oh-so-desperately wanted them. It was stupid. Entirely blind on their part to not see how incredibly devoted your friend could be.

And that was never more the case than when you actually started hooking up with him.

It was a random night, one where you both were lonely and a little too pent up to handle yourselves, that you decided on it. At the time it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Something you could move forward with, without any fears or doubts or worries.

Steve made you feel safe. And somehow, someway that fact only increased whenever you had sex. There was a point, in which Steve had gone down on you for the first time, subsequently pulling two orgasms from you in a matter of minutes, that you realized you would never feel more protected than with him.

It was a daunting thing when you finally decided to become friends with benefits. Part of you knew from the get-go it would ruin your perceptions of other people. But the other part couldn’t be bothered at all, especially not when you entertained yourself. Because you dreamt about it sometimes. You dreamt of another world where you and Steve had no boundaries, where you were free to be as you were, free to be with each other in every way as you wanted.

Your body freezes at that.

Steve hasn’t noticed, too caught up in suckling at your left nipple while his thumb and index finger roll your right one around. Your bra is long gone, discarded to the floor along with both of your shirts.

Your mind, which had been empty other than mulling over your thoughts on the man biting at your breast, has now drifted to the realization.

Did you want Steve like that?

The question sits on your tongue; tasting of burnt ash and trepidation as your eyes roam over his body. He’s crooning into your skin, hips rolling with every whine, rutting his hardened length into your still fully clothed core. The moon shines on his back, tracing over the muscles rippling beneath the skin, veins growing taut in his forearms as he holds your body still.

You love him.

And it’s not necessarily an astonishing conclusion. If anything, there hadn’t been a point in time where you’ve looked at Steve and hadn’t felt immense love. Because knowing him and not being hopelessly in love with him was impossible.

This was Steve after all. Your Steve.

The one who fights for his friends and loves aimlessly and has a big heart that begs to be nurtured because he’s never had that. He’s the one who cares for Dustin—his friend and his brother. He’s a shoulder to cry on and a lover and a fighter.

But most importantly, he’s quite possibly the love of your life.

You don’t realize he’s stopped until you catch him blinking at you. His thumb which had come up to your cheek, runs along your cheekbone and wipes at your temple in the most tender of ways. “Everythin’ okay?”

You want to say it. You want to tell him everything you’ve just realized. Every conclusion and emotion and thought that he incurs in you. You want to tell him that you see him. That you love him. That you want him and need him in ways he may never understand.

Because with the way his hips jerk forward, practically dry humping you as he looks up at you with the biggest doe eyes—innocence and erotica all rolled into one—you realize you may not be able to control yourself. You need him to fuck you, but you also need him to know how loved he really is.

So you tell him.

“I love you.” He halts, lifting off of you slightly in a daze. He looks you dead in the eye, disbelief and shock shrouding his features. Offering him a lazy smile, you choose to let go of everything. “I love you so goddamn much, Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he shakes beneath you. His breathing is shallow, fingers nervously trembling against your sides. For a second, you worry that he doesn’t feel the same. Mistaking his silence for disinterest, you begin to shuffle up the bed, worrying that this was it. That in moments you had fucked everything over.

“Holy shit, —.” He mumbles, fully sitting back on his knees. His gaze doesn’t meet yours, but it never leaves your body. You can’t tell if he’s happy or upset or scared, and the feeling eats away at you. “…You can’t…you can’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, throat closing up in impeding sobs. “I’m sorr—“

“You can’t…” letting out a groan, Steve crawls back up your body, caging you in between his broad shoulders and the bed. You can see his eyes now, the way he stares you down and the way something darker floods his irises. Though, his expression is the all-too-familiar look he always seems to give you. Leaning down, his lips curl around the edge of your ear, hot breath invading your senses. You take note of how he smells of citrus and mousse, how nice the concoction is as he lets out another shaky breath. “You can’t say stuff like that and not expect me to fuck the shit out of you.”

…Well, fuck…

“I mean…” Steve hops off the bed after planting a kiss on your forehead and walks to his closet. He talks to you as he rummages through his things, determined to find the exact thing he’s looking for. “I mean you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that, baby.” Taking a box from the top shelf he walks it over to you and places it on the nightstand. Then, with just as much ease as before, he swoops down and captures your mouth in another mind-numbing kiss. Except this time, there’s an added urgency behind it. One he’s never had before. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

While nipping at your chin, he opens the box and pulls out a small and colourful cylindrical object. It’s pale purple with a series of buttons on the bottom of it. You frown once you see it.

“Stevie, what’s that?”

He can’t control the wolfish grin spreading across his face. Nuzzling further into your throat, he sucks and licks and bites until you’re too distracted by your own sighs. “It’s um…it’s my surprise for you, honey. Got it the other day. Saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“What…” another breathy moan as he bucks into you. “What does it do?”

Clicking his tongue, he gropes your boob, massaging the tender flesh. “Something fun,” is his only reply.

Placing it beside your head, he leans back and begins to unbutton your pants. You stiffen a bit, as he works wordlessly to relieve you of your other clothes. Your interest only seems to spur him on, make him work quicker as he pushes you down flat to the bed. There’s a sudden string of melodies that escape then, as though he’s fucking singing to himself. Content and relaxed as he pulls your jeans down your legs.

You think it’s Wham!, maybe Careless Whisper if you tried to listen hard enough. But you can’t particularly focus when he looks up to you and beams like that. Evident excitement making his body stretch upward and his dick twitch in the tent of his pants. “God, you’re gonna love this, baby. Need you to relax though. M’promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Whining, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to your level. “Why don’t you just fuck me already, Harrington?”

“Patience is a virtue, babe.” Grabbing the device he presses the button, triggering a high whirring sound to emanate from it. “Besides, gotta loosen you up first.”

And with that, he presses the head of the object to your cunt, reeling in the way your eyes widen and your jaw falls slack.

The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It isn’t the comforting feeling of your fingers gliding over you or of Steve’s tongue flicking at your hood. Instead it’s a steady vibration that rumbles your entire body, catching your arousal in its grasp instantaneously.

There’s a sharp gasp lodged in your throat, fighting to be released as you grapple for oxygen. Steve’s body still hangs over you, eyes transfixed on the way your face contorts with every movement he controls.

Sometimes when he flicks his wrist, moving the massaging head of the device to your already fluttering hole, you let out a long strangled moan. But the other times, when he presses the device right into your clit while his mouth wraps around your nipple and his other hand massages your lower belly, you can’t help but whine repeatedly.

Your thighs have begun to quiver as he slowly increases the pace of the object (which you didn’t even think was possible to begin with). Your hand flies to his shoulder, nails digging into the muscle as your head falls back.

“You like that, honey?” Steve growls into your chest as he hitches one of your legs over his hip. “‘Course you do. My little slut likes anything I give her, don’t you?”

You nod erratically, back aching as he presses the beating device harder into you. “Just…oh my god, Steve, please, I…”

“Look at you… Can’t even fucking talk, you feel so good.” A broad hands runs down the expanse of your stomach, running over your hip before slightly smacking the curve of your ass. You fly forward, sitting up completely as you try to trap his hand in between your thighs. “Told you this would be fun.”

You cry out, heart pounding against his as you press your breasts into his chest. “Stevie, please. Wanna cum so bad.”

He chuckles, resting his chin on the top of your head as his hand continues it’s descent down your body. “I know, baby, I know.” His knuckles circle your entrance before two thick fingers jam themselves into you.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ you whimper as you bite at the tendon in his neck. Your toes curl in tandem with the fingers he moves along your walls, continuously hitting that sweet spot within you.

“Come on, baby, come for me… Come on.”

Your orgasm slams into you at what seems like new heights. Gripping his body tightly, you arch into him body rocking on the device with every wave of your high. Coming and going, back and forth until your knuckles are white and sweat lines your back and the sheets beneath you.

You shake violently in his arms, heavy pants racking your chest as dizziness clouds your mind. Your gaze stays stuck on the ceiling as you try to come to, your own feeble attempt to ground yourself. You feel the bed dip as rough hands smooth over the bones in your hips, rubbing small, tight circles in the skin above your mound. “That was—that was good, baby. Did so good for me.” His voice draws you back to reality, your gaze drifting around the room to find his. He peeks over your body, messy hair and hooded eyes that darken as he stares ahead.

Your hand—which feels limp hanging in midair—flies to his skull, gripping the roots of his hair and tugging him forward. “Steve, I…I want you to…please, want your cock.”

“Mhm,” he inhales the scent of you, nose just hitting your swollen clit. “And I want this pretty pussy of yours.” Deep brown eyes flash up to you, a powerful sneer morphing the lines of his mouth. “Good girls wait their fucking turn.”

Your head lolls back the second he begins to lap at your core. A shrill sound, something close to a cry but still not quite, escapes you. He mouths at the space between your clit and your hole, groaning into your folds as he adjusts his grip on your legs.

A puff of hot air hits you, spine trembling as his lips tug at your hood. “Oh my—fuck, Steve. Steve, please—“

“Please, what? I’m doing what you asked, pretty girl.” Another lick—a smooth and slow flat press of his tongue. “I’m fucking you like you deserve, so just…” he groans, removing himself from you before spitting on your cunt and diving back in. “Just. Fucking. Take it.”

Dammit, this man was going to be the fucking death of you.

He eats you out like he’s starved. Like he’s been locked away for days, weeks—shit, years—and is just finally getting access to a good meal. A bountiful feast, all for him and only him.

His stubble burns you as you jump his face, gnawing at the inside of your cunt and thighs until they’re raw. The pressure builds yet again, deep within your gut and permeating your bones. You hold him there, smothering him entirely as he either gulps for air, or for more of you. Regardless, he’s tasting every inch of you and soon he’s sucking at you even faster.

“Ste—Steve, just—oh my god, right there. Right there, please, please, please!”

Your second orgasm slaughters you where you lie. The pleasure is blinding, almost intangible as you ride his mouth. An endless slew of moans and sharp intakes of breath accompany your convulsing body. Somehow he’s still breathing, still soldiering on as he eats up everything you have to offer him.

It’s incredibly dirty. Raw and pornographic. A purely sleazy sight of him enjoying himself on the orgasm he just pulled from you.

Eventually he lets go of you, leaning up on his forearms and wiping away at the dripping cum on his chin.

He licks his lips then, a free hand trailing up to his messy hair and pushing it out of the way. Steve licks his lips, like a murderous predator eyeing its next prey; toying with its meal as it rolls in delight. “You taste,” he sucks yet another hickey into your breast. “So good.” He moans out the words, rolling his bare hips into you. He’s completely naked now, having taken off his pyjama pants sometime between unfurling his fingers in you and latching his mouth to your clit. He completely engulfs you, member sliding between your slick folds; twitching at the wonderful tension he’s been building. The friction is unbearable, deliciously combining with the taste of yourself on his tongue.

He kisses your mouth in the same way he kissed your cunt. Slow and lazy, an attempt to devour you whole.

“I love you so fucking much, y’know that?” Taking your hand he kisses each finger, your palm, the back of your hand and then your knuckles. “Loved you for a long time. A long, long time.”

You sigh into his chest, tears of relief burning at the corners of your eyes. There’s a gaping feeling within you, deep in the pit of your belly that carnally craves him. Despite already having had two orgasms, you’re hungry for another; for whatever he’ll give you.

You want his cock, want to feel him fill you to the point where you’re breaking in half. You need to feel the burn in your pelvis and the cured ache in your core.

You need him.

So, so fucking bad.

“Want you,” you grumble. Your throat is hoarse, pained from all the whines and the screaming and the moans of pleasure. You’re clawing at him, yanking and pulling at his limbs until he’s impossibly close. “Please, please, please, want you.”

Steve is unfazed as he keeps kissing you. Nearly every spot on your body is touched by his mouth, caressed by his tongue and bit by his teeth. Somehow, as much as he’s been grinding into you, as much as you can tell he wants to fuck your abused hole, he controls himself.

Tapping on your nose with feather-light touches, he gently kisses your eyelids. “Want what? Gotta use your words if you want my cock, baby.” Pumping himself above your stomach, he presses the underside of his dick along your belly and drags it, right above the spot where you want him most. “You want my cock, hm? Want me to fill you up like the good little slut you are?”

You don’t even nod. Instead, you just widen your legs and open up to him even more, pouting as you blink at him. “Want your cock so bad, Stevie. Wanna be yours. Please, please give me…just, fuck me hard.”

Smirking, he runs a hand up and down your thigh. “Are you mine?”

Your feel your face contort, confusion twisting your features as you gasp for air. And though you’re partially confused, a little curious and a little too far gone to fully understand his request, you simply smile.

“Yes. Yours. All yours.”

Steve growls, actually growls before taking two fistfuls of your hips and flipping you over onto your stomach. “Up, pretty girl,” he gestures to your lower back.

You do as he says, unable to stifle the smile of elation as he manhandles you. Pressing your head into the pillow, you push your hips up only to feel him directly behind you. His hand rests on the globe of your ass, tenderly stroking the curve of your spine as he gets you into position. He’s up on his knees, adjusting himself to fit your slit as he pulls you back into him.

“Wanna know what I was thinking about before you caught me earlier?”

You groan. “Jesus Christ, Steve, just shut up and fuck me already.”

He laughs, then lays a smack on your bum before shoving the fat head of his dick into you. Crying out you fall forward, frantic to feel him further. “You need to learn to stop being so impatient, —.” Pushing himself by another inch, he stops and stays there. Him stretching you out is a torturous event, one that pains you as your hands ball up the sheets. “Anyways, as I was saying…” his hand smooths down your back and to your neck, holding you in place by the nape. “I was thinking about this. ‘Bout you underneath me.” He kisses you in between your shoulders. “…Was thinking about fucking you from behind… Like this.”

With those words he slams into you, the tip of him hitting your cervix while his hips remain flush with yours.

You gasp, inhaling the smell of sweat and sex as you shake around him. “Oh my god, Steve, I—holy, fuck, that’s good, feel so good. Fucking me so good, Stevie.”

He takes a minute to breathe, to collect himself before completely bottoming out and shoving back in. Your walls clench around him, the heavy drag of his length making you shiver as he starts off at a slow pace.

Steve’s always been big. You had assumed as such from the rumours spread around school that there was something a little extra special about Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. But it wasn’t until when you first had sex with him when he had rid himself of his pants and stood before you entirely nude that you realized that he definitely had something to show for it.

At first, you were nervous, weren’t entirely too sure that you could take him in the way you wanted so much.

But then when he finally entered you for the first time, and every other time after that, you came to the conclusion that you wouldn’t want anything—or anyone—else.

He stretches you out perfectly. An amazing fit that only increases every time you feel his bulge in your lower abdomen. “Faster.” You pant. “Harder, fuck, harder.”

His hand fully circles your neck, gently pulling you back with just enough pressure to make you see stars. The harsh snap of his hips sends you spiralling, obscenities spilling out of you as your third orgasm comes and goes. It all happens so quickly, to the point where you can’t even process the fact that you came yet again.

And although it feels good—fucking great, even—it’s still not enough.

You’re incredibly sensitive, eyes rolling into the back of your skull with every thrust. The sound of balls slapping against your ass fill the air, a medley of noises—just like the ones coming from the tv earlier—keying you higher and higher.

“Christ, you feel so good, honey. So good… I’m so fucking in love with you.” Another thrust rattles your body. Your bones are weak, muscles so sore that you can’t even keep yourself up. And Steve can tell, has half a mind to help you out.

Hooking one arm around your stomach, and with the other still, on your neck, he pulls you up into his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his thighs as he bounces you up and down on his dick. His back is pressed tightly to you, allowing you to hook your arm around his neck until his chin hangs over your shoulder. “Steve…Steve, I’m gonna cum. Fucking me so good, so, so, so good.”

He roughly kisses the side of your face, mouth hanging wide open on your cheekbone. “I know, baby, I know… No one fucks you this good, huh? No one—no one makes you cum on their dick like I do.”

“Oh…ohmygod, ohmygod. No, no one fucks me like you do, Steve. Please. Please, fuckfuckfuck.”

Pushing his hand into your abdomen, he holds you in place as he spears into you. Fire, an aching burning passion, licks at the base of your spine as heat pools in the knot of your belly. It feels so good it hurts; so numbing that you can’t do anything but sit and wait for your climax to crash over you. Because, painfully, you’re right on the edge. Steve strains behind you. “Gonna’ cum too, baby. Gonna fill you up, fill you up until I’m fucking spilling out of you.”

You’re babbling into the air as your head falls backward. With your eyes screwed shut, your hand falls to Steve’s knee while a fourth orgasm rips through you. You scream at the feeling of him annihilating your insides and sending you into orbit. It’s almost like you’re in space, gravity falling from your weightless body as Steve rams into you in a brutal rhythm.

“So, so beautiful, baby. Look even prettier with my cock in you.” At this point, he’s rotating you down onto his lap instead of thrusting up into you. Sweat beads down his forehead and onto your chest as his groin tightens. His dick grows bigger, swelling inside of you while he grunts and growls and lets out the prettiest sounds into your ear.

“Gonna make you a mom one day, baby. Fuck you until you’re round and full and everyone, even fucking Rick, knows you’re mine.”

He moans ‘I love you’s’ into your shoulder, biting down onto the junction of your neck as he empties inside of you. Ropes of warmth spread throughout your cunt as he fucks you through his orgasm.

His chest heaves as he falls forward with you, collapsing onto the bed in a frenzied mess of aching limbs and satisfied hums.

He catches his breath quicker than you do, contended sighs and soft kisses along your spine as you both settle down. He moves down your body until he lands on your hips, before gliding his mouth back up to your cheek. He kisses you for the millionth time that night. “…Were you serious? Ya know, did you mean what you said?”

You smile into the blanket, using what little strength you have left to roll over onto him. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you mouth at his neck and collarbone, kissing Steve tenderly in the way he truly deserves.

“Every word.”

•••

Steve Harrington Taglist (+18)

@freaky-dcaky @spideyssunflower @detectivecarisi-1 @superfanmixromancepony @bookfrog242 @spectorfilms @serrendiipty @keepingitlokiii @v0idl1nq @blindedbyyourgrace17 @mrmoonman @emileebert14 @wordle233 @demirunner @randomlyblue @sad-innit @smarie7543 @scoopsahoyharrington @moonknightyws @imanilizabeth @gracie-marvel @liltimmyst @asbisexualasitgets @heihei2221 @thirstynymph @bludhavents @steveslittlesunflower @tiaamberxx @crying-caro

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

jealousy, jealousy || Hyunjin x f!Reader

Summary: A guy hitting on you leads to an argument with Hyunjin, which leaves you completely confused, because nothing about that conversation made sense to you. And it takes you a little while, but the two of you eventually manage to work it out.

Word count: 5.2k

Genres: college AU, established relationship, smut

Warnings & Tags: hurt/comfort, jealousy, implied past toxic relationships, smut (vaginal sex), smut with feelings, lowkey sub!hyunjin but it's not super explicit

series masterlist

A/N: this is the same couple as in you're so gorgeous it makes me so mad, but both works can be read independently. Enjoy!

It’s sometimes hard to fathom how different you and Hyunjin are. You’re night and day, really. He’s famous on campus, loved and admired by the people around him, and you’re anonymous and unnoticed in any crowd you’re a part of. He’s light, joyful, an artistic soul; you’re cynical, a bit of a downer, and you live and breathe numbers. He’s also a people-pleaser, and a bit of an actor, a performer if you will, where you’re honest to a fault and what you see is exactly what you’ll get. He’s the softest soul you’ve ever met, and you’re all sharp edges.

And, well, when you want to support him, you go to see him dance and dazzle a fascinated crowd. When he wants to support you, he comes to see you logic the shit out of someone else at a mathematics olympiad.

Yeah, you’d told him not to come. He had insisted though, and he’d been in the audience, getting his fair share of looks, which you didn’t blame people for. How could you.

You hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak with him, since your team had been busy from start to finish — which had earned you first place, by the way — and you could only hope that he hadn’t been deathly bored, though that seemed unrealistic. You appreciated the moral support, but you still couldn’t figure out why on earth he would have wanted to come in the first place.

It’s as you’re looking for him in the lobby that you’re approached by a guy that you recognize at first glance. Hyunwoo, if you’re not mistaken, one of your rivals in the competition. He’s smiling wide as he makes his way to you, revealing slightly crooked teeth.

“You were really impressive in there,” he comments, speaking a little too fast — shy, maybe?

“Thanks,” you say, “you weren’t bad either.” And it’s true, he’d been a worthy opponent.

No match for you and your team, sure, but good enough.

His smile widens and he shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“So, uh, which university do you go to again?”

You answer, but the question has you raising an eyebrow. That's been announced over and over again throughout the competition, so it’s a weird way of making small-talk. Unless he’s stalling for—

“Oh, that’s cool, I’m not that far from there, maybe we could s-see each other at some point?”

Aw, yeah, he’s hitting on you. That sentence came out all in one breath, and he seems very relieved to be done with it. Which, honestly, you find kinda sweet, cute even. You don’t really date within that crowd, didn’t even before Hyunjin — your experiences with men from that field have been… questionable —, so you’re definitely not interested, but you’ll—

“She’s taken,” an icy voice announces from behind you.

Ah, Hyunjin’s found you. You feel him against your back as he wraps you up in a hug in an unusual display of possessiveness. It throws you off a little bit, actually. Not that you mind, you very much don't care, but he tends to avoid being affectionate in public. He likes to keep things private, with much of his life being subject to gossip around your college even without any of that. You crane your neck to look at him. You were just about to tell Hyunwoo that you were taken, and based on the way he’s flushing, cheeks and ears and neck turning bright red, he’s already horribly embarrassed by the situation.

You’re opening your mouth, intent on letting him down gently, when Hyunjin’s eyes flicker over him, taking in his appearance — he’s not exactly looking stylish, but hey, you guys were here to be smart, not look good —, and then he sneers “What makes you think she’d be interested anyway?” with such a disdainful tone that you almost flinch.

Hyunwoo splutters an apology and flees the scene, but you tear yourself from Hyunjin, staring at him in disbelief. You know that he can get agressive when he’s angry, words coming out before he’s truly thought them through, but he’s not cruel. And that was— that felt completely uncalled for to you.

“You were great,” he starts telling you, just as you go “What the hell?”

Confusion flickers on his face. It’s like he doesn't even remember what just happened, and you’re at least as confused as he is.

“He was flirting with you,” he says. In other circumstances, you might have noticed the softness to his voice as he spoke, but you’re not really paying attention to that right now, searching his eyes instead for any discomfort, guilt, whatever — which you're not finding.

“Well that’s not a crime,” you reply, shaking your head. And what you mean by that is that flirting with you is not really deserving of getting your self-esteem crushed by someone who’s as attractive as Hyunjin is. You know all too well what it can do to you to finally gather up the courage to go talk to someone, only to be humiliatingly rejected. It does shit to you that you don’t think Hyunjin would understand.

He takes a step back like you’ve slapped him, folds his arms defensively against his chest.

“So I should be fine with someone flirting with you?” His voice is at a higher pitch than usual, and you don’t know what to make of it. You— What the fuck is happening to this conversation, exactly?

“I was going to tell him I wasn’t interested, and it’s not like he knew I was taken,” you say. You don’t know why you need to point that out. Obviously you weren’t going to entertain that.

“Well I told him first,” Hyunjin says, clearly growing more defensive by the second, and again, you don’t know why.

“Yeah, Hyunjin, but that was completely unnecessary. I mean, it was just—” you search for the right word for a second, don’t find it, “—overkill.”

He’s staring at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Sorry if I don’t stand by while dudes hit on you,” he finally says, anger — you think? — seeping through in his tone.

“That’s not what this is about,” you say, because it isn’t. What are you doing wrong? What part of what you’re saying isn’t coming across the way you want it to? “My point is that you didn’t have to be so—” Again, you try to pick your words carefully. ‘You didn’t have to be such a dick about it’ is the formulation that comes to mind first, but that’s not something you would call Hyunjin, ever. That’s a line that you refuse to cross. “—mean about it.”

It comes out sounding weirdly insincere, maybe because it’s not as strong as what you’re trying to say, maybe because your sentence has lost its momentum by the time you finish it. Either way, it seems not to reach Hyunjin at all. His jaw’s set, his shoulders tense, and again, you have no clue where this went wrong.

“Fine,” he quips, lips now a straight line. “I guess I’ll just be mean elsewhere.”

And then he turns around and walks away, and okay, the two of you rarely argue, but this is such an unusual way for one of your conflicts to resolve, an almost childish one, and again, what the fuck?

“What happened there?” Seungmin asks, appearing next to you.

Boy, would you like to know.

“So,” Minho says in the middle of lunch, “what’s the deal with you and Hyunjin?”

You groan. A few days have passed since Seungmin asked you that very same question, and you’re still clueless.

“If I murder him because he’s too depressing to be around, I’ll make you help me hide the body,” Minho adds nonchalantly. He’s also a dance major, which means he’s been around Hyunjin way more than you have these past few days.

“Please stop threatening to kill my boyfriend,” you sigh.

Still, you don’t know what to answer. You and Hyunjin have been texting, you’ve seen each other around campus, but things have been… stiff. Awkward. Things are never awkward between the two of you. You know you’ll have to talk about it but it’s— You just wish you understood what was going on, so you could prepare yourself. As long as you don't, you want to avoid the talk, but without the talk you don’t know what’s going on and—

“I have no fucking clue,” you finally mutter. Seungmin glances up from his food. Usually he doesn’t care much for interpersonal drama, but he seems a little concerned this time.

“Explain,” he says.

Yeah. Maybe laying the facts on the table and trying to figure out a course of action is the best thing to do.

“A guy hit on me at the Maths Olympiad,” you say, “from one of the rival teams. Asked if I’d want to see him around but, you know, he was interested. And then Hyunjin arrived and was all ‘she’s taken’, which is fine, but then he said,” and the words are still clear in your mind, “’what makes you think she’d be interested’. And he looked at the guy like— You know.” Just one glance at Seungmin tells you that he does. You don’t look at Minho, because you doubt he has a clue. “Like he was repulsive or something.”

“So?” Minho says, and you sigh while Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“So it was shitty. The guy didn’t know I had a boyfriend, and having someone like Hyunjin tell him that probably made him feel like shit. It’s not easy for people like us to make the first move. No offense,” you add, nodding at Seungmin, and he grimaces in response. You know he agrees with you, because, well, he made no move whatsoever to get in his current relationship. It’s just this delightful mix of lack of self-confidence, social anxiety, and awkwardness that makes the process so fucking complicated.

You’ve dated more than Seungmin has, but you’d figured out early that people outside your branch of interest found you weird, too passionate about your niche interests, and then that the men within your field were pretty misogynistic for guys complaining about never getting girls, and then you’d stopped dating. So it hasn’t been great on your front either.

Seungmin’s nodding his head. He clearly sees your side of the argument. Minho, on the other hand, has leaned back in his chair, and he goes “Hm.”. So he’s about to tear you apart.

“It sounds like he just got jealous,” Minho says, and you almost laugh.

“Jealous of what?” Outside of the looks, this was a less than five minutes conversation with a guy, during which he made eye contact maybe once. There was no agressive flirting, barely any flirting actually, and certainly no physical contact. You’ve dealt with far worse — actually, you deal with far worse at almost every event you go to with Hyunjin.

Minho shrugs. He clearly has an idea, and he’s clearly not going to tell you.

“Think about it from his perspective. A guy hit on you, and you got annoyed at him for intervening.”

“I don’t care that he intervened,” you snap, “the issue was the way that he—”

“He might not know that,” Minho shrugs. Both you and Seungmin exchange a doubtful look, but it dawns on you that this might not be something Hyunjin would know about. You doubt it would happen to him in that way. You’re well-aware that he’s had shitty dating experiences, but this, that specific way of making someone feel completely undesirable, isn’t one of them as far as you’re aware.

So, as Minho stares at you intently, you sigh.

“Fine. I’ll clear things up.”

He nods, and you can feel his relief immediately. For someone who’s constantly threatening to kill Hyunjin, it’s kinda sweet, how much he cares for his well-being.

You're still trying to figure out how you're going to broach the subject with Hyunjin when, at eleven that night, there’s a knock on your door. You make your way there cautiously and pick-up the base-ball bat that you keep there — because this could be a psycho, ‘cause who shows up unannounced at 11 pm in the middle of the week —, but one look through the peephole has you putting it back down immediately.

Because when you unlock the door, you’re met with the sight of your shivering boyfriend. It’s pouring outside, so he looks like a drenched cat, soaking wet but still handsome.

“I-I wanted to—”

“Hyunjin, come in, don’t stay out in the cold” you interrupt him, hoping your voice comes off soft instead of demanding. “I’ll get you a change and a towel,” you add once he’s hesitantly made his way inside.

It doesn’t take you long to find a t-shirt and sweat pants he’d left at your place, while he stands awkwardly next to your kitchen counter. When you hand them to him, he thanks you, hesitates a second, then gets into your room to change. It feels a little weird, to see him do that, a weirdness you’re sure he’s felt too, but you suppose it would be just as strange if he didn’t do it, because things have just been— different, these past few days.

You’re waiting for him with the towel when he comes out.

“Come here,” you say gently, reaching for his hair.

You put the towel over his head, rubbing it gently against his scalp. Small droplets of water run down your arms, but you’re not really paying attention. Hyunjin bends to give you an easier access, face coming just inches of yours. His eyes are looking at you almost pleadingly, and you can’t help but notice that they’re slightly puffy, possibly from crying. That’s confusing to you, too — this was one argument, not a particularly intense one either, and in no way relationship-threatening, as far as you’re concerned. You know kissing him won’t fix anything, but you’re not trying to fix things, you’re trying to let him know how much you love him, how much you care about him, how much you’ve missed him.

So you do kiss him. He gasps into you, inhales like a drowned man finally coming to the surface. It’s his turn to get closer, body pressing against yours, and oh, he feels like coming home. Your fingers card through wet hair, pulling on it slightly, and this time it’s another sound he lets out. As tempting as it is to jump him right now, you know you have to put a stop to this if you want to have a productive conversation first — which would be the reasonable thing to do.

Still you can’t resist prolonging the kiss, pulling his lower lip between your teeth in a way that has him whimpering. His hands grab onto your waist with a bruising grip, and you feel his tongue brush against yours, hesitantly at first, like he’s not sure he should, then more daringly, pushing it into your mouth.

You — thankfully? unfortunately? — still have the presence of mind to interrupt the kiss before it gets any more out of hand.

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him softly. You see his eyes go wide. Like he's surprised. Shit, someone must have really done a number on him, huh?

“I’ve missed you too.”

Taking his hand in yours, you gently pull him towards the couch, where the two of you sit, though you don’t break physical contact. Instead, you sling your legs onto his lap and put your chin on his shoulder, not letting go of his hand. Hopefully he knows, that way, hopefully he feels safe, hopefully he can tell how much he means to you and that this— disagreement, or whatever this is, means far less to you than he does.

For a few seconds, he just stays there, unmoving, almost frozen, long black hair still dripping a little onto his shoulders and sticking to his neck, while you rub soothing circles on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he finally blurts out. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at his hands on his lap.

“About what?” you ask gently, not moving an inch. The two of you had been mad at each other, but you don’t think it warranted this kind of reaction.

“I’m— I didn’t mean to be controlling,” he mumbles. “You can talk to whoever you want to, and it’s— I-I mean, there’s nothing harmful in flirting, and I trust you, and—”

“Hyunjin,” you interrupt him, and this time you take his face in your hands, cradling it. “I don’t care about that.” His eyebrows knit in confusion. “I don’t— I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you being upset if someone’s hitting on me, but more importantly—” You press a kiss to his lips, chaste and brief, then another, then another. “You’re the most important person to me. You know that, right?”

He nods, though the motion is hesitant. You’re well aware, by now, of how sensitive he is to any action that he perceives as a rejection or a form of disinterest. You’ve gotten past a lot of his previous issues, when even you saying you couldn’t make it to one of his shows could make him question things, but some things he remains fragile on.

“I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. Of course I would shut down someone hitting on me, babe, I just didn’t have the time to do that.”

It seems to soothe him for a few seconds, and a deep sigh leaves him, body briefly relaxing, before he tenses again.

“Then what—” Now there’s a hint of fear in his eyes. “What did I do wrong?”

Okay. You need to handle this carefully. You lean back slightly, going back to holding his hands. The last thing you want is to make him feel like this is a battlefield, which is how you know some of his exes treated their relationship. You want him to feel safe with you, even when you have a disagreement.

“You know, people are constantly saying that you’re out of my league,” you say. His eyes widen, mouth opening to protest it, but you shake your head. You don’t lack self-confidence, but you know no one’s jaw’s dropping when you walk into a room. It doesn’t make you ugly, it just makes you, well, not Hyunjin. You're fine with it. There’s more to you than your looks, and you wouldn’t want people to be interested in you just for that anyway. You’re all too aware that a good half of Hyunjin’s issues in relationships come from that. “I don't care, but I got that before we were together, or—” Hm, this is getting into memories that sting a bit more. “Well, before I met you.”

Hyunjin swallows. It’s his turn to squeeze your hand, and the gentle attempt at comfort makes you smile. It encourages you to keep going, knowing that he’ll probably get it, and if he doesn’t, he’ll definitely try his best.

“Some guys I was, uh, interested in turned out to already be dating.” You shrug one shoulder. It’s not a big deal in and of itself, it’s something that definitely happens, especially if they’re people you run into at college parties. “So, some of their partners felt that had to make it clear to me that I was delusional to think I even had a chance with them. And it wasn’t just to let me know that the dudes were taken, it was to just— humiliate me.”

And it worked, too, at the time. Makes you want to give a hug to your former self, just thinking about it.

“So what I don’t get is why you’d want to do that,” you say, finally looking at Hyunjin again. “I know you, you’re never cruel to people. I wish you were less nice to some of the people around you. So why— why would you do that to a guy who, clearly, wasn’t a threat to you whatsoever?”

You find him staring at you, but he immediately looks away from you, cheeks and ears turning red.

“I’m sorry,” he says for the second time.

“I’m not mad,” you reply patiently. “I’m just trying to understand.”

He clears his throat, and runs a hand through his hair, which have started to dry by now. He opens his mouth, like he's ready to talk. And then he closes it again.

You tilt your head to the side. Okay. This is unexpected.

“It’s not like he wasn’t a threat,” he finally says under his breath.

Wait. Minho had a point? Hyunjin was jealous?

“What are you talking about,” you say more than you ask, trying not to sound like you’re in total disbelief — though you very much are.

“It’s—” He turns his head in the other direction, very much, very clearly blushing now. “He would get what you talk about, you know? What you do in class, your projects, your contests. He’s—” and he lowers his voice even more, muttering the last word like it’s personally offended him “smart.”

You can only stare. You almost want to laugh at what is, to you, an utterly absurd conclusion, but you, thankfully, manage to hold yourself back.

“Hyunjin, babe, do you think I don’t find you smart?”

There’s the hand in the hair again, as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“No, it’s just— I don’t get it. When you talk about it with Seungmin, or— or when you try to tell me what you’ve been doing, or— you didn’t even want me to come to the Olympiads.”

“Because I thought you’d be deathly bored.”

Somehow, most of the previous tension has evaporated now that the issue's out in the open. You feel impossibly relieved, and you realize how much this had all been weighing you down. Hyunjin seemed to be the same, his hand now coming to casually rest on your thigh. The two of you finally feel like you again.

“Because I wouldn’t understand,” he mumbles.

Ah, precious, dearest darling.

“So, what, do you think I would dump you for a dude who can integrate without a calculator?”

The blank stare Hyunjin gives you almost makes you crack.

“Hyunjin, darling, apple of my eye, light of my life, you might be the best person I know.” You shift on the couch, and it only takes one quick movement for you to be on top of him, legs on either side of his and arms around his neck. His breath hitches, and it makes you grin. “You’re a incredibly talented artist, you see things about the world that I don’t even notice exist, you’re capable of moving in a way that I can't even dream of, you’re kind, you’re loving, and yes, even if you're not the greatest mathematical mind to walk this earth, you’re smart.”

He looks up at you, lips parted, staring like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not the type to say these things much, usually trying to convey it with physical touch and other shows of affection. Right now, though, it seems like he definitely needed to hear them.

“Hyunjin,” you say, again, never getting tired of how his name rolls off your tongue, “I love you. There’s nothing about you that would make me doubt that.” Nor is there anything that should make him doubt that.

You’re not sure if you kiss him or if he kisses you, but you know that the kiss that follows is harsh, urgent, desperate. His hands grab onto your hips, dig into your skin, his mouth bites at yours feverishly, pushing himself up to meet you. Your hands are in his hair, pulling his head back to give yourself better access to his mouth, and you let him take charge of the pace, his tongue dancing with yours tantalizingly.

It makes it even more delightful when you roll your hips against him and feel him suddenly losing control. He grows hard under you in just seconds, and when you pull away his eyes are wide with need.

“Oh, you did miss me,” you can’t help but tease, though your voice is still soft. You feel lighter after the conversation, but it might still not be the time to get too intense.

Hyunjin whines in response, pushing himself up to kiss you again. Fuck, he’s hot.

“I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” you whisper with a very intentional shift or your hips, straight onto his hard-on.

You get up to get rid of your short and panties, and during that time, Hyunjin pushes his own pants down, cock standing to attention, precum already forming at the tip. Usually, you’d take the occasion to tease him, play with him a little bit, but you know that he’s not going to last long, and you want to give him everything tonight.

So you climb back onto his lap, kiss him again, and your hand makes its way down your body. You’re wet, too, but Hyunjin’s big, and you want to prepare yourself a little. Just as you’re about to insert a finger, a pleased shiver already running down your back, Hyunjin stops you, and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper when he presses his palm against your clit.

“Let me,” he whispers.

“Anything for you, baby,” you reply, though this is for you too, because when Hyunjin’s long finger push inside of you, spreading you open, you throw your head back and a moan escapes you.

Hyunjin works diligently, slowly pumping in and out of you. His thumb comes to brush against your clit, rubs against it with gentle movements, sending pleasure through every fiber of your body. His hands gets coated in your juices as he pushes a second finger inside, then a third. He’s quiet as he does so, but his other hand keeps tightening on your waist, and his cock is growing redder, leaking more and more precum by the second.

You finally wrap your hand around it, returning the favor, and immediately he loses his rhythm, letting out a whimper. He hunches forward, his head coming to rest in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t— I can’t keep going if you do that,” he mumbles, beautiful eyes staring pleadingly at you. Again, there’s that urge to tease him, and again, you resist it.

“Just wanna make you feel good, baby,” you whisper as you give a slow pump around him, only providing light pressure because you don’t want it to be too much just yet. “And you’re already doing so, so good for me, it’s okay to stop now.”

You’re pretty sure you can take him already, but you keep him just there, fingers moving erratically inside you, as you set a slow pace around his cock. Moans and whines keep spilling past his lips as he buries his face in your shoulder, music to your ears, and you start pressing kisses against his neck, teeth grazing against the skin. Hyunjin gets louder — his neck’s always been sensitive, and when your tongue brushes against him just right, his hips jump up into your hand, which seems like the perfect signal.

You grab his wrist to stop his movements, and he takes it out of you, eyes meeting yours once more in expectation.

Hand around his cock to guide it, you let yourself sink onto him with a pleased moan. He always fills you so well, makes you feel so full— Fuck, either he’s a sex god or you’re really fucking whipped, because sex with him always makes you feel so good.

Hyunjin’s head rolls back onto your couch, hair spilling all over it, eyes closing as his mouth falls open. The sight’s perfect, but it’s also lewd, like the sound of your bodies together wasn’t enough for that.

“Mind if I move, babe?”

Okay, yeah, you’re teasing, but he just makes it so tempting for you.

“Yeah, hm, please— please do.”

A brief laughter escapes you at his broken plea and you push up in order to kiss him again, delicious, delicious friction forming between your legs at the movement.

“You’re perfect,” you purr against his mouth.

Then you start moving, hips rocking gently at first, and Hyunjin’s letting out high pitched whimpers. After a few seconds he manages to push himself from his position, head falling between your breasts. He lifts your shirt, which you hadn’t bothered taking off, and his hands come up to cup them, massaging them softly and carefully. A moan you’d been careful to hold back leaves your mouth then, but it’s only when he wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, that they start falling uncontrollably. He glances up at you, and with one look at the sinful sight that is him with one of your breasts in his mouth, you’re gone.

Things get more frantic after that. You start moving quicker, chasing your own release as much as trying to give him his, and Hyunjin wraps both arms around your waist, no longer kissing your breasts. Instead, he buries his head in your neck again, erratic whimpers music to your ears. You hold tightly onto his shoulders, and though you don’t do it on purpose, you suspect you’re going to leave a mark there.

You come before he does, back arching with a loud cry as you do, but you don’t stop moving. You ride your orgasm with him still inside you, rubbing just right against him, then keep going though slower as your legs start shaking under you, but Hyunjin’s mostly too far gone to notice. You go back to kissing his neck, knowing with absolute certainty that if you flick your tongue against him just so—

Hyunjin comes without a warning, surprisingly quiet, mouth opened wide against your shoulder. You feel him spilling inside of you, whole body shaking underneath you. You keep kissing his neck, whispering soft words against him. How good you find him, how perfect, how much you love him.

You collapse onto each other. You rest your head on his chest; his fingers start absent-mindedly tracing patterns on the small of your back. You should move, should clean up, but fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed this, you’ve missed the way his body feels against yours. You’re so lost in the post-orgasm bliss that you almost miss Hyunjin calling your name.

“Hm?” you reply lazily, glancing up at him. He’s purposefully not looking at you.

“I love you too,” he says. You tilt your head. He’s blushing again, like after all that’s just happened, that was the harder thing to admit. “I didn’t say it earlier. I love you.”

You know that. All the same, flowers bloom in your chest and despite feeling tired, your heart finds it in you to start beating faster. You love him. You love him so much you fear it will consume you sometimes.

“I love you more, babe.”

You believe it whole-heartedly when you say it, too. Hyunjin shakes his head, playful pout forming on his lips, and it hits you that he probably feels just the same.

And in that moment, everything in the world is perfect.

i think this is one of my favorite pieces i've written for this series, so hopefully you liked it too! exploring complex emotions is one of my favorite things to do in writing. i know i've said this in every piece, but please reblog this if you enjoyed it! it boosts my motivation a ton to see people liking my stuff, and so if you like my writing, commenting/reblogging is the best way of making me write more. i'll see you all soon for changbin's piece!

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