#and they acted it out because of course they did they act it out every time

[batilenima]

It starts with Damian.

He sees the way Superman hovers a little too close to his father, watches his every move like a predator trying to act civilized. Clark's voice drops whenever he talks to Bruce; low and sweet like it's meant for bedroom walls, not the Watchtower.

"Something's wrong with him" Damian mutters to Tim "He looks at Father like he's a prey"

Tim's already been tracking it "He stares at Bruce's hands all the time. Once I saw him zone out for a full five minutes while Bruce reloaded a batarang"

Cass is the one who confirms it "Obsession" she signs "He watches Bruce's pulse"

Jason doesn't like it one bit "I've seen creeps in Arkham less intense, that boy scout wants to peel Bruce like a fruit and live inside him"

Dick tries to stay neutral until he finds Clark reorganizing Bruce's utility belt "for efficiency" and sniffing his cape when he thinks no one's around.

"Nope. No. I'm done pretending this is normal"

They confront Bruce about it, carefully. Damian flat out suggests a restraining order. Jason offers a kryptonite knife 'just in case'

Bruce, of course, shuts them down "He's not a threat"

"He's undressing you with his x-ray vision every time you walk into a room!" Tim snaps "Are you even aware how many times he's caught you when you didn't need to be caught?"

Bruce stays quiet.

Which is worse.

Now the kids take shifts. Shadowing patrols Clark might crash, blocking him at galas, asking inappropriate, pointed questions with fake innocence.

"Hey, Clark" Jason says, smiling like a threat "You ever think about someone so hard your heat vision goes off? Just wondering."

Clark just smiles right back "Only when Bruce wears that black tactical suit. You know which one I'm talking about!"

Dick grips the table "You did not just say that in front of his children"

Clark doesn't even blink "I'm very honest with family"

The room erupts.

And Bruce? He walks in ten minutes later, perfectly calm, and says "I hope none of you are threatening Clark again"

Because if he's letting Superman stay, there's a reason.

And that scares them more.

(Well, you all can take this as a continuation from the short I wrote earlier "Clark has zero shame about his desires..." Or read it as a separate story!)

[sumluckr]

Forbidden fruit

Pairing: Oh Beom-seok x female reader

Summary: You hate your new stepbrother. Until the night you kiss him. Once the line is crossed, there’s no going back — only secrets, stolen nights, and the ruin that follows when you’re caught.

Warnings: step-sibling relationship (not blood related), explicit sexual content, emotional manipulation, family abuse, and a heavy, angst-filled ending.

You slam your bedroom door shut, the wood rattling on its hinges. Your heart is pounding with frustration after yet another shouting match with Beom-seok. Living under the same roof with him has become a daily exercise in restraint and resentment. Ever since your mom married his dad a few months ago, it’s been a war zone in this house. Each day seems to bring a new argument — over bathroom time, over what to watch on TV, even over who finished the last of the cereal. Petty little battles that mask a much deeper tension.

You stomp across your room, tossing your phone onto the bed as you replay the latest altercation in your mind. Downstairs, you can still hear the muffled echoes of your parents’ exasperated voices: your mom pleading for peace, his dad sternly warning both of you to “knock it off.” They don’t understand how hard it is to suddenly act like family with someone who’s practically a stranger — a moody, sarcastic, impossible stranger at that. A stepbrother in name, but hardly the doting sibling they might have hoped for.

Beom-seok has been nothing but cold stares and sharp remarks since day one. You tried to be cordial when your families merged, you really did, but he clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Fine. Two can play at that game. Every eye-roll he gave, you answered with a scoff; every muttered insult, you lobbed one right back. It’s become routine: the two of you bickering in the hallway, voices low but heated whenever your parents are within earshot. The moment they leave, the volume rises along with the venom in your words. And oh, how it frustrates them — the perfect newlywed couple, their perfect new family, cracking at the seams because their kids refuse to play nice.

Sinking onto your bed, you let out a harsh sigh. If only they knew the full story… If only you yourself could make sense of it.

Because beneath all the door-slamming and shouting, something else crackles in the air whenever you and Beom-seok clash. It’s an electricity you don’t want to name. In those taut moments when you’re squared off, chest heaving with anger as he glares at you with those dark, stormy eyes — there’s a heat there that leaves you more breathless than fury should. More than once, an argument has ended not with one of you storming off, but with a charged silence, noses inches apart, both of you forgetting whatever the fight was even about. Your hands have trembled afterward, disgusted with yourself for the unwanted thrill that coursed through you when he stepped in close.

You rub your palms over your face, as if you could scrub away the memory of the last time it happened.

It was just a week ago — late at night in the kitchen. He’d cornered you by the fridge, accusing you of moving his things, a stupid misunderstanding. The house was dark and quiet, your parents long asleep. You’d hissed at him to back off, he’d growled at you to quit playing dumb… and then, suddenly, that damning silence. The two of you, alone in the bluish refrigerator light, faces drawn so close in confrontation that you could feel the heat of his breath. Your pulse had pounded in your throat; his eyes flickered down to your lips. You remember the way your stomach flipped, the way time seemed to freeze. You should have shoved past him and left. But you didn’t.

It was a blur of clumsy motion — his hand clenching the front of your shirt, your fingers curling into his hoodie — and then his mouth collided with yours. You still don’t know who moved first. The kiss was hard, almost bruising, all pent-up anger transmuted into raw hunger. It lasted only a few reckless seconds before you both jerked apart, panting in shock at yourselves. He had stared at you like he’d seen a ghost or committed a crime, eyes wide and lips parted. In the heavy silence that followed, you had fled back to your room without a word, your heart banging against your ribcage. Neither of you ever spoke of it. In the days after, the arguments resumed as if nothing happened — if anything, they grew more intense, fraught with an unspoken acknowledgement of that night.

Your cheeks burn at the memory. Shame twists in your gut, but so does a twisted sort of longing. As much as you tell yourself that kiss was a mistake — one born of misguided anger and proximity — you can’t stop thinking about it. Late at night, when you can’t sleep, you find your fingers touching your lips, remembering his rough desperation and the unexpected softness beneath. It makes you furious at him, at yourself. This is wrong on so many levels. He’s your stepbrother now, for God’s sake, no matter that there’s no shared blood. But the more you try to bury it, the more it seems to surface in every charged glance across the dinner table, in every accidental brush when passing in the hall.

You know he feels it too. You’ve caught the way Beom-seok’s gaze lingers when he thinks you’re not looking — a flicker of something dark and conflicted. It’s there in the taut set of his shoulders when you waltz out in a skirt a little too short, in the way his jaw ticks as if he’s biting back words whenever you mention some guy from class. And though most of your fights end with him walking away in a huff or you slamming your door, a few have nearly tipped into something else, just like that night in the kitchen. A shove becoming a graze, a shout trailing off into panting silence. Every time it happens, you swear it’s the last time. That you’ll never let it go that far again.

But part of you — the part that you’re trying so hard to ignore — aches for it to happen again. It’s a dangerous, irrational desire, and you hate yourself for it. You bury your face in your pillow with a frustrated groan. No. You refuse to be that girl — the one who lusts after her own stepbrother just because he’s brooding and convenient and happens to know how to kiss you in all the ways that leave you dizzy. You won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affects you. If he wants war, you’ll give him war. Anything to keep this messed-up attraction from surfacing again.

_____

It’s past midnight when you finally tiptoe through the front door, shoes in hand to avoid waking anyone. The house is dark, save for the faint glow of the living room lamp. You silently curse when you see a figure seated on the couch — Beom-seok, waiting. He’s hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tight. At your entrance, his head snaps up. Even in the dim light, you can make out the storm brewing in his eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” he hisses, keeping his voice low. There’s a clipped edge to his words. You bristle immediately, defensive.

“Out,” you reply flatly, stepping further inside. You move to slip past the living room, but he rises to block your path. In the close quarters, you catch a whiff of his scent — soap and something darkly musky — which mingles with the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to your hair and clothes from the party. His nose wrinkles.

“Out where? It’s late,” he growls. “Your mom was worried. She was pacing the kitchen, wondering if something happened to you.”

Guilt pricks at you; you hadn’t meant to stay out so long. But you refuse to let him see that. Instead, you fold your arms and glare back. “Well, I’m home now. Safe and sound. So move.”

He doesn’t budge. His gaze drags over you, taking in your outfit — the snug dress that clings to your curves, the scuffed heels in your hand. His jaw flexes, and there’s something accusatory in his eyes that puts you on the defensive. “What?” you snap. “Go on, say whatever it is you’re dying to say.”

Beom-seok’s lip curls. “I’m just wondering how many guys you let put their hands all over you tonight.”

Your stomach lurches at the venom in his tone. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he whispers harshly, stepping closer. “You reek of smoke and sweat. You look like…” His eyes flick down your body with blatant disdain. “Like a desperate slut.”

The word drops like a grenade between you. For a split second, you’re stunned into silence by the sheer audacity and ugliness of it. Heat flares in your cheeks — part indignation, part humiliation. Yes, you went out hoping to forget about him, maybe even danced with a cute guy or two to drown out the thought of his perpetual glare. But you did nothing to deserve this.

Anger surges, white-hot and blinding. “At least people want to fuck me,” you bite back, every word sharp. “You’ll die a virgin.”

You barely register the hurt that flashes across his face, quickly swallowed by a mask of rage. In an instant, his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. Before you can gasp, you’re shoved back against the wall. The heels in your hand clatter to the floor. Your back meets the hallway wall with a dull thud, not enough to hurt, but enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Beom-seok’s face is mere inches from yours, eyes blazing.

“Take that back,” he growls, voice low and shaking.

Your heart is hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. But you tilt your chin up in defiance, even as his grip on your wrist tightens. “Why should I? Struck a nerve, did I?”

He snarls, a sound more animal than human, and for a second you wonder if he might actually throw a punch. But instead, he surprises you: his free hand suddenly cups the side of your jaw, fingers digging just enough to make you gasp. He forces your head back against the wall, exposing the line of your throat. You freeze, a thrill of fear and excitement shooting through you.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Beom-seok says in a harsh whisper. His breath fans hot over your neck. “You think I can’t fuck? That no one wants me?” His words drip with bitterness. “Is that why you keep taunting me? Because you think I don’t have it in me?”

Your pulse skitters as his insinuation registers. The air between you is smoldering, heavy with something dangerous. “I— I never said—”

He presses in closer, and you feel the solid weight of his body pinning you. Your hands come up to push at his chest, but you don’t put much strength into it — your senses are reeling, confusion and desire swirling inside you. This is wrong, a voice screams at the back of your mind, but God, the way his fingers are cradling your jaw and the intensity in his eyes… it sets your blood on fire. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Just shut up for once.”

His mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing whatever retort you had prepared. It’s not a gentle kiss — it’s teeth and fury, a claiming of territory. For a heartbeat, your mind goes blank. Then instinct kicks in. You’re kissing him back just as ferociously, fury and desire intertwining until they’re indistinguishable. Your fists bunch in the fabric of his shirt, and you yank him closer even as he presses you hard against the wall.

His tongue forces its way between your lips, and you meet it eagerly, a moan vibrating at the back of your throat. The taste of him floods your senses — a hint of mint and something coppery from where you bit his lip in the collision. It only fuels you more. He growls into your mouth, one hand leaving your jaw to grab your hip roughly. You arch against him, shocked at how quickly your body ignites under his touch.

The hallway is too exposed, too risky — some shred of sanity registers that. Without breaking the feverish kiss, you use your hold on his shirt to tug him toward your bedroom door just a few steps away. He seems to get the hint. In a flurry, you fumble behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open. The two of you stumble into your room, lips still locked, knocking into the dresser with a thud. You kick the door shut clumsily, praying the noise wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone.

Beom-seok spins you around in the dark, and now it’s you pressed up against the back of your door. His hands roam down over your ass, fingers digging in possessively through the thin fabric of your dress. “This what you wanted?” he rasps against your lips. “You want your stepbrother to fuck you like the slut you are?” His words are cruel, but his voice shakes — whether from anger or need, you can’t tell. Maybe both.

A whimper leaves your throat at his vulgarities, part outrage but mostly pure arousal. You should slap him for saying something so filthy. But the reality is, you do want him to. You’ve never been this turned on in your life, and it’s by the very person you claimed to hate just minutes ago. The forbidden nature of it all only makes it more intoxicating.

In answer, you bite at his lower lip and tug, earning a hiss from him. “Fuck you,” you breathe against his mouth — the insult coming out far more like a plea. Your hips roll forward of their own accord, grinding against the hardness you feel between his legs. A strangled groan tears from Beom-seok’s throat.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he grits out. His forehead presses to yours, both of you panting in the dark. His hands gather the hem of your dress, rucking it up to your hips. Cool air brushes your thighs. “Tell me to stop,” he says suddenly, voice rough, almost pained. “Tell me to stop now, and I will.”

His words hang in the charged space between you. It’s the briefest window of opportunity — a chance to put an end to this madness before you both cross a line you can’t uncross. Your mind flashes images of consequences: your mother’s devastated face, the family imploding. This is insane.

But you don’t say stop. Instead, your fingers find his hair, tangling in the soft, dark strands, and you pull him into another searing kiss, giving him the only answer you have.

That’s all it takes. Beom-seok groans into your mouth, any last semblance of restraint snapping. His hands slip under your dress, rough palms skimming up your thighs. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and yank them down unceremoniously. The lacy fabric slides down your legs and you kick it aside. A thrill shoots through you — you’re bare under your dress now, completely exposed to him. The thought is as scary as it is arousing.

You fumble at his clothes, desperate to feel skin. Your hands yank up his hoodie and T-shirt beneath; he hastily helps you pull them off over his head, tossing them blindly into the dark. Your palms roam over his now-bare torso, and you feel the lean muscle beneath warm skin, the way it tenses at your touch. He gasps when your nails scrape lightly over his nipples, and you marvel that you elicited that sound from the usually stoic Beom-seok.

Emboldened, you trail your hand down his stomach, fingers grazing the front of his jeans where you feel his arousal straining against the denim. He curses under his breath and covers your hand with his own, pressing it harder against his length. The heat and solid throb of it sends a pulse of need through you.

“Off,” you whisper urgently, tugging at his belt. You need him — need to feel him, all of him. Your boldness might have shocked you in any other situation, but right now you’re beyond caring. All you know is that you’re desperate for him, consequences be damned.

He fumbles with the buckle and button, hands shaking in haste. Together you shove his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. Your breath catches as you feel it spring against your stomach, hot and rigid. In the dark, you can’t see much, but your hands eagerly wrap around him and you hear him suck in a sharp breath. He’s big enough to make your heart skip — thick and warm and velvety in your grip.

Beom-seok hisses through his teeth as you give an experimental pump of your fist along his length. “Fuck…,” he swears softly, his head tipping back. The raw need in his voice sends a thrill through you. Before you can do more, he’s grabbing your wrist again — but this time he guides you, pinning your hand above your head against the door. The sudden assertion makes you whimper, your core clenching around nothing.

“Turn around,” he commands hoarsely. When you hesitate, he nudges you, spinning your body so you’re facing the door. His chest presses against your back; you can feel his heart hammering as wildly as yours. One of his hands splays over your front, rough fingers grazing your throat then descending between your breasts. His other hand grips his cock from behind you, aligning it between your thighs. You realize what he intends and your pulse skyrockets.

He’s going to do it. He’s really going to—

“We—we shouldn’t,” you whisper urgently, panic and desire warring within you. “We don’t—”

“Just the tip,” Beom-seok pants against your ear. His hips press forward and you feel the hot, smooth head of his cock glide through your slick folds. A strangled moan tears from you as he slides it up and down, coating himself in your arousal. Your body betrays you, thighs widening in anticipation. “I’ll just put in the tip,” he rasps, voice barely coherent. “Okay? Just… just to feel you. I won’t go further.”

It’s a lie — you both know it on some level. But you nod frantically anyway, arching your back to angle your hips, needing that little bit of him inside you even if it’s wrong. “O-okay… just… just a little,” you hear yourself whisper.

A low groan vibrates from his chest. His hand on your front slides down to grasp your hip. You bite down on your forearm to muffle yourself as Beom-seok begins to push forward. The thick head of his cock stretches you, and even though it’s only the tip, the burn and pressure draw a choked sob from your throat. He pauses, breathing ragged. “Fuck, you’re tight…” he whispers, almost as if in awe.

The pain melts quickly into pleasure as your body adjusts, and you realize you’re rocking back, trying to take more of him. It’s insane and desperate, but you can’t help it. You want more. You want all of him.

“Just…just a bit more,” you gasp out, barely recognizing your own voice. You press your forehead against the door, your nails scratching at the wood as you push your hips back. Beom-seok curses behind you, a hand flying to your shoulder as if to steady himself — or to slow you. But he doesn’t really stop you. With a shuddering breath, he inches deeper, feeding you another few centimeters of his cock.

“Shit,” he groans, the word drawn out. “So good… you feel so…” He doesn’t finish, lost in sensation. You feel it too — the overwhelming fullness even with just part of him inside. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.

All pretense of restraint crumbles. In a sudden motion, Beom-seok snaps his hips forward, driving himself all the way in to the hilt. A shockwave of pleasure-pain rips through you and you cry out into your arm, the only thing muffling your scream. He clamps a hand over your mouth for good measure, pinning you to the door as he buries himself fully inside you. The stretch is intense, almost too much, but the way he fills you is maddeningly perfect. Your walls clench around him, fluttering as you adjust to his girth.

“Oh f-fuck,” you whimper against his palm, eyes rolling back. Behind you, Beom-seok lets out a guttural sound that you’ve never heard from him — raw and broken. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his body trembling against your back. “I’m sorry… I c-can’t—” he chokes out, and then he starts to move.

He tries to keep it slow at first, pulling out an inch before pushing back in, as if to let you both absorb the enormity of what you’re doing. But the feel of him rubbing against your inner walls sends bolts of electricity through your veins. Any pain has dissolved into molten pleasure. You rock back to meet his next thrust, silently begging for more.

That undoes him. With a muted curse, Beom-seok grabs your hips with both hands and begins to fuck you in earnest. Deep, driving strokes that have you biting down on your arm again to smother the cries threatening to escape. The door rattles softly with each thrust. Every slap of his pelvis against your ass is indecently loud in the silence of the house, but it only spurs him on. You feel every inch of him claiming you, over and over, and it’s bliss. Forbidden, delirious bliss.

“So good… oh god, you’re so good,” you find yourself babbling in a shattered whisper. Tears prick at your eyes from the overwhelming intensity of it all. He responds with a strained moan, one hand sliding up your body to cup your breast through your dress, squeezing in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation coaxes a high-pitched whine from you.

Your climax hits you out of nowhere. One moment you’re teetering on the edge, the next you’re gone — body clenching around him like a vice as waves of ecstasy crash over you. You sob into your arm, knees almost buckling. Beom-seok slams you forward, pinning you harder to keep you upright as you convulse around his cock. He chokes out a ragged groan at the feeling of you tightening on him. “Fuck… gonna—”

With a final thrust, he stills deep inside you. You feel him throbbing, hear the breath catch in his throat as he finds his own release. Even through the haze of your orgasm, you’re distantly aware of warmth flooding you as he empties himself deep within. His teeth sink lightly into your shoulder, muffling a guttural moan. The sensation of him coming inside you — hot spurts painting your insides — wrings a final aftershock from your oversensitive body.

For a long moment, the two of you remain like that, locked together, trembling and panting in the dark. You can feel his heart hammering against your back, your own matching it beat for beat. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and when he finally releases your mouth and lifts his head, you catch the faintest brush of his lips against the nape of your neck — a gesture so tender it almost breaks your heart.

Reality crashes down a second later. Beom-seok eases himself out of you, and you both hiss at the sensitivity as your bodies part. You turn around on shaky legs, leaning back against the door for support. He’s backlit by the sliver of moonlight coming through your curtains, just enough for you to see his face. What you see there sends a pang through your chest: he looks stunned, lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath, a glimmer of raw emotion in his eyes that he quickly tries to hide.

You don’t know what to say. What can you say after this? You just had sex — wild, reckless sex — with your stepbrother. And god help you, it was the most incredible experience of your life. The weight of what you’ve done settles heavily in the silence. You can see the same realization mirrored in his expression, the way his throat works as he swallows hard.

Beom-seok opens his mouth, then closes it. His fists clench at his sides. For a moment, you think he might say something — an apology, an angry outburst, anything. But he doesn’t. Without meeting your eyes, he reaches down, yanking up his jeans and fastening them with jerky motions. You hurriedly pull your crumpled dress back down over your thighs, cheeks burning.

The silence is suffocating. You want him to at least look at you, acknowledge what just happened, maybe even console you because your emotions are a mess. But he keeps his gaze averted. His features have shuttered closed, an echo of that emotional repression you know so well in him. Finally, barely above a whisper, you hear him say, “This never happened.”

Your stomach twists. Before you can respond, he’s already unlocking your door and slipping out into the hall. He shuts it behind him with the softest click, leaving you alone, still leaning bonelessly against the door. You press a hand to your mouth, feeling the swollen ache of kissed lips, the tender sting where his teeth marked your shoulder. Your legs feel like jelly. Inside you, you can still feel the slow trickle of his warmth leaking out. A fresh wave of heat floods your face as you slide down to the floor, clamping your thighs together. What have you done?

_____

In the days that follow, reality becomes a blur of guilt, craving, and secrets. By the light of day, you and Beom-seok maintain your hostile charade. It’s almost easy to believe nothing has changed: you still trade barbs over breakfast; he still holes up in his room, brooding and silent; you still pretend to be annoyed when your mother pushes the two of you to spend time together. But beneath that thin veneer of normalcy, everything is different now. You carry the memory of that night like a brand on your skin — every time you shift in your seat and feel a faint ache between your thighs, you flush with the reminder of how he felt inside you. And every time he looks your way, you see it in his eyes too: the hunger, the conflict, the barely contained need.

For two days, neither of you makes a move. You’re not sure if it’s out of regret or fear or stubborn pride. Maybe all three. At home, you skirt around each other anxiously. At night, you lie awake replaying every second of that encounter, a tangle of shame and desire twisting in your gut. You wonder if he’s doing the same in his room just across the hall. There are moments you almost convince yourself to knock on his door, to talk about it — to do something about this unbearable tension. But you don’t.

It’s Beom-seok who finally snaps first. On the third night, you’re tossing in bed in the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep. Your body still yearns for a release only one person has ever given you, even as your mind scolds you for wanting it. That’s when you hear it: the soft creak of your door easing open. You sit up, heart in your throat, and see a silhouette in the darkness. You know instantly who it is — you could recognize the quiet shuffle of his feet anywhere by now. He slips inside and shuts the door behind him. Moonlight from the window catches the angles of his face, highlighting the uncertainty in his eyes and the determined set of his jaw.

You don’t even get a word out before he’s crossing the room in two strides. He sinks onto the edge of your bed, hesitating only a split second, and then his hand reaches out to cup the side of your face. The gesture is oddly gentle, considering how hungrily his eyes are raking over you. Your breath catches. “Beom-seok—” you whisper, but he cuts you off by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

It’s nothing like the furious clash of your first kiss. This one is tentative, almost trembling — as if he’s afraid you might reject him. That thought flees your mind the instant you taste him again. You answer with equal softness, angling your mouth against his. A quiet, relieved sound escapes him, and then the kiss deepens, slowly building in heat. Before long, you’re tugging him down fully onto the bed, your limbs entangling in a desperate need to get him closer. The covers rustle as he crawls over you, and you feel the suppressed shudder that runs through his body when you card your fingers under his shirt, tracing the bare skin of his back.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confesses hoarsely against your lips, the words rushed out as if he hates admitting them. It sends a thrill through you, knowing the normally reticent Beom-seok is admitting even that much. “Then don’t,” you murmur in reply, fisting your hands in his shirt to yank it off. “I’m yours tonight.”

That night, he makes love to you in your bed, under the cover of darkness and the thick blanket of shared secrets. It’s frantic at first — clothes tossed to the floor in haste, legs tangling as he positions himself between your thighs. But once he’s sheathed inside you again, a different kind of intensity takes over. He moves slowly, almost reverently, watching your face in the dim light with an expression that borders on agonized. Each roll of his hips coaxes gasps and moans that you muffle against his shoulder. He dips his head to capture your cries with his mouth, swallowing every sound. It’s as if he’s trying to memorize you, as if you might slip away if he doesn’t consume you whole.

When you come undone beneath him this time, he follows right after, spilling warmth inside you once more as he groans your name into the crook of your neck. The way he clings to you in the aftermath — arms wrapped around you with a trembling tightness — feels less like lust and more like desperation. You hold him just as fiercely, fingers raking gently through his hair. Neither of you speaks. In the darkness, gestures speak louder: the press of his forehead to your collarbone, your lips ghosting over his temple. It’s an intimacy that scares and thrills you in equal measure.

After that night, there is no going back. What was once unthinkable becomes your new normal. By day, you continue the facade of bickering step-siblings; by night, you lose yourselves in each other’s bodies again and again. It’s a risky game, a twisted dance on the knife’s edge of discovery, but neither of you can stop. If anything, the fear of getting caught only adds to the feverish excitement.

Sometimes it’s quick and urgent — like the afternoon you both got home early and he wordlessly dragged you into the bathroom, pinned you against the sink and fucked you deep and hard, one hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your cries as your parents chatted just down the hall. Other times it’s painfully slow — like the night he teased you for what felt like hours, bringing you right to the brink with his fingers and mouth until you were begging, tears in your eyes, for him to finally take you. He had smirked, a rare sight, and whispered against your inner thigh, “Say please, and I’ll think about it.” The mix of humiliation and raw need as you sobbed out a “please” only seemed to inflame him more. He made good on his promise, though, and the reward was worth every second of torment.

The more you have him, the more you want — like a fire that keeps growing, insatiable. You find yourself inventing excuses to touch him even in passing: brushing by him in the kitchen to feel the heat radiating from his body, or slipping a daring hand under the table to squeeze his thigh during dinner. Every stolen moment feeds the addiction. And with familiarity comes a strange sort of comfort between you. There are nights you don’t even have sex at all — nights when he simply crawls into your bed after another screaming match with his father, and you just hold each other until sleep takes you both. In those moments, he clings to you like you’re his lifeline, face buried in your hair, and you stroke his back softly until his ragged breathing calms. It’s in those quiet hours that you see the cracks in his armor most clearly.

One such night, you awaken to muffled shouting from downstairs — the unmistakable boom of his father’s voice in anger and a quieter, tremulous response from Beom-seok. You slip out of your room and tiptoe halfway down the staircase, heart pounding. Through the railing, you see his father towering over him in the study doorway, face twisted in fury. “…embarrassment to this family,” his father is saying, voice dripping with contempt. “I didn’t spend all that money on your education for you to turn out like this.”

You flinch as you see the man jab a finger hard into Beom-seok’s chest. Beom-seok’s head is bowed, fists clenched at his sides. He doesn’t talk back — he just stands there and takes it. A sick feeling churns in your stomach when you realize this is far from the first time. Memories click: the faint bruises you once spotted on his ribs when his shirt rode up, the way he’d winced and pulled away when you touched them. You hadn’t pressed him then, but now it’s heartbreakingly clear. How long has this been going on? The vitriol spewing from his father is awful enough, but you fear what might happen if it escalates. Your feet move before your brain can catch up, drawing you closer in case you need to intervene.

Suddenly his father seizes Beom-seok by the collar, shoving him against the wall. The thud of impact sends rage and terror lancing through you. You’re about to rush forward, not caring what you reveal in the process, but then your mother appears, drawn by the commotion. She gasps, “What on earth—!” and grabs her husband’s arm. “Stop it! Let him go!”

His father releases Beom-seok with a snarl, adjusting his tie like nothing happened. “My son needs discipline,” he snaps at your mother without remorse. Beom-seok says nothing; he just ducks his head further, shaggy hair obscuring his eyes. You can see his trembling even from the stairs. Without another word, he turns and walks briskly towards the staircase. You scurry back, not wanting to be caught witnessing this ugly scene. By the time he reaches you, you’re hovering at the top of the stairs, concern twisting your insides.

In the darkness of the hallway, Beom-seok pauses when he sees you. For a moment, you think he’ll retreat, ashamed to have you see him like this. But something in your expression must break through, because he suddenly closes the distance and grabs your hand. Wordlessly, he tugs you into his bedroom and shuts the door. The moment it clicks, he comes apart. His breathing is ragged, and in the faint light you see tears of frustration or humiliation — or both — shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry you… heard that,” he manages to choke out, voice thick with emotion.

You shake your head, throat tight. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Anger at his father simmers in your veins, but you push it aside and gently touch his face. He flinches at first, then leans into your palm, eyes squeezing shut as if he might cry. Your heart cracks at the sight of him so vulnerable. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m here.”

The next thing you know, his lips are on yours — not out of lust this time, but a desperate search for comfort. You meet him with equal tenderness, guiding him to the bed as your mouths linger in soft kisses. Tonight, there’s no hurry. You undress each other slowly, shedding not just clothing but the layers of hurt and stress. When he enters you, it’s with a care that brings tears to your eyes — slow, deep thrusts that carry as much solace as pleasure. He intertwines his fingers with yours beside your head, holding on like you might slip away, and you whisper soothing words between breathless moans. By the end, when you both lie spent and entwined in the dark, he finally speaks the words that have hung unspoken in the air for weeks: a shaky confession murmured into your hair. “I need you… I need you so much.”

You tighten your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise quietly. In that moment, it feels true — that no matter how wrong it is, you’ve become the most important person in each other’s lives. In the silent aftermath, you both drift to sleep tangled in warmth and in each other, blissfully unaware that the fragile world you’ve built is about to come crashing down.

_____

It all falls apart on a gray Sunday morning. You wake to the sound of your bedroom door creaking open and your mother’s voice calling your name softly. Your eyes fly open in panic — in your half-asleep haze, you realize that Beom-seok is still in your bed, lying beside you with an arm draped over your waist. The two of you are tangled in the sheets, bare skin pressed together under the thin cover. In the weak morning light, there’s no mistaking the intimacy of the scene.

Your mother stands frozen in the doorway, a tray with what looks like breakfast for you shaking in her hands. The smile she’d been wearing collapses into horror as her brain processes what she’s seeing: her daughter in bed with her stepson. A strangled sound escapes her — the tray slips from her fingers, dishes shattering on the floor.

Beom-seok jolts awake at the crash. You both sit up abruptly, the sheet slipping down to your waists. Your mother’s face has gone ashen. “Mom—” you choke out, reaching a hand toward her, but she recoils like you’ve struck her. “What…what is this?” she whispers, voice trembling. “Oh my God… what have you done?”

Her broken sob galvanizes the rest of the house. Heavy footsteps pound up the stairs — his father’s. He appears behind your mother, first confusion crossing his features at the mess of breakfast on the floor, then dawning fury as he takes in the tableau beyond her. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” he barks. Your mother is crying now, hand over her mouth. “They were… they were in bed—”

The next seconds are a blur. His father pushes past your mother and lunges into the room. Beom-seok barely has time to throw himself out of bed and in front of you before his father’s hand cracks across his face. The sound is like a gunshot in the small room. You scream, scrambling to hold the sheets to your chest as Beom-seok staggers but remains firmly planted between you and his raging father.

“You disgusting little filth,” his father seethes, grabbing him by the shoulder and wrenching him away from the bed. “How dare you— in my house? With your own sister—”

“Step-sister,” you croak out automatically, tears blurring your vision. It’s a pathetic, irrelevant correction, and his father’s attention snaps to you. You shrink under the burning hatred in his eyes. “And you,” he spits, “I welcomed you into my family, and this is how you repay me? Spreading your legs for him like a whore under my roof?”

The words hit you like slaps. Your mother finds her voice at that, stepping in front of her husband with an anger you’ve never heard from her. “Don’t you dare talk to my daughter that way!” she shouts, voice cracking. “They’re just kids—”

“Kids who are plenty old enough to know what the hell they’re doing,” he roars back. He shakes off her attempts to hold him back and turns on Beom-seok again, fury radiating from every line of his body. “Have you lost your mind? You degenerate!”

Beom-seok stands oddly calm now, though a red handprint is blooming on his cheek. He doesn’t defend himself or you; he merely lowers his head, eyes on the floor. You realize with a pang that this is the well-practiced response his father has beaten into him: endure, go silent, weather the storm. But you can’t stay silent.

“It’s my fault,” you sob, desperate to draw the ire away from him. You scramble off the bed, clutching the sheet to cover yourself. “I-I seduced him. I…I made him do it.” It’s a frantic, foolish lie, but you’ll say anything to keep his father from hurting him further.

Beom-seok’s head snaps up at that. “No,” he rasps, voice thick. “That’s not—”

His father silences him with a vicious yank on his arm. “Quiet. I don’t want to hear a single word from you.” Cold, terrifying rage laces each syllable. He throws a glare at your mother. “Separate them. Now. I will not have this–this abhorrence continue for another second.”

Your mother, pale and shaking, nods and rushes to you. She grabs your arm with trembling hands and pulls you away, trying to wrap a discarded blanket around your shoulders to cover your nakedness. “How could you, how could you…” she’s whispering, voice choked with anguish. You’re crying too hard to respond, reaching desperately over her shoulder to see Beom-seok.

His father is already dragging him out of the bedroom by the arm. He stumbles once, his eyes meeting yours in frantic dismay. He shouts your name hoarsely, the sound of it like a plea ripped from his throat. You struggle against your mother’s grip, wanting to go to him, but she holds you back with surprising strength. “Beom-seok!” you scream, voice cracking. “Stop! Please—!”

But mercy doesn’t come. His father hauls him down the hall as if he weighs nothing. Before they disappear from view, you see Beom-seok reach out toward you futilely, his face twisted in despair. Then he’s gone, wrenched out of sight, and a moment later you hear the slam of his bedroom door. Locked away like a prisoner.

Your mother turns you to face her, gripping your shoulders. She’s crying openly, a mix of rage and sorrow contorting her features. “What have you done?” she demands, voice breaking. You have no answer besides broken apologies and sobs. She pulls you into her arms, whether to comfort you or herself, you can’t tell. You cling to her, knees buckling as the weight of what’s happening crashes over you. Through the fog of your own sobbing, you hear his father making calls, voice ice cold: arranging to send Beom-seok away somewhere effective immediately. Each word is another nail in the coffin of your heart.

It’s over. You know it, even as you pray to wake up from this nightmare. The secret world you and him built is destroyed, exposed to the harsh light of day and parental outrage. And in the span of minutes, you’ve lost him.

_____

Two days later, Beom-seok is gone. His father wastes no time carrying out his solution: that very afternoon, he drives his son out of the city, dispatching him to live with an uncle three provinces away. There was talk of enrolling him in some rigorous program or perhaps sending him abroad — you caught fragments of heated discussions between your parents while you hid behind your bedroom door. The specifics hardly matter. What matters is that he’s gone from your life.

You aren’t allowed to see him before he leaves. In the chaos after you were caught, your mother refused to let you out of her sight. You cry and beg, half-dressed and hysterical, just to talk to him, to say something — anything — but no one listens. Your stepfather bundles Beom-seok out the door as if escaping a burning building, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a bag your mother wordlessly packed through her tears. The last glimpse you have is through your bedroom window: his figure being shoved into the backseat of the car, wrists hanging limp at his sides, head lowered in defeat. You don’t even know if he looks back; you’re crying too hard to tell.

Now, the house is oppressively quiet. Too quiet. Your mother hasn’t spoken to you beyond the bare minimum, heartbreak radiating off her in waves. Your stepfather barely acknowledges your existence, which is perhaps a blessing given the disgust that still darkens his eyes if he so much as glances your way. You spend most of your time holed up in your room, staring at the ceiling through red, raw eyes.

Every corner of this house is haunted by him. The bedroom where he first took you, the kitchen where you shared forbidden kisses, the hallway where he first pressed you against the wall and changed everything… Even the scent of him seems embedded in your pillows, torturing you with phantom memories of happier nights. The emptiness left in his wake is staggering. You wander into his bedroom when no one is watching, standing in the middle of the stripped-bare space. It feels hollow, robbed of the warmth it once held when he was there brooding in the dark or clutching you in his sheets. You sink to the floor where his bed used to be and curl into yourself, fingernails digging into your arms to keep from screaming.

You ache in places you didn’t know a person could ache. A part of you keeps expecting him to be there when you turn a corner — to find his glare fixed on you from across the dinner table, or to feel his hand brush yours in passing. But each time reality reminds you he’s not coming back, the knife in your heart twists a little deeper. At night you lie awake, eyes burning, chest hollow. You press your face into the pillow and imagine it’s his shoulder. You wrap your arms around your own body, pretending it’s him holding you. But the illusions shatter as quickly as they form, leaving you sobbing quietly into the silence.

There’s talk of therapy, of moving to a new town to escape the scandal — your mother murmurs things outside your door, but you hardly register them. Nothing really matters. The only person who made this house feel like home, who made you feel seen and needed and alive in a way you never had before, has been ripped away. And you’re supposed to simply go on.

On the third night after his departure, you find yourself in front of your window, looking out at the dark empty street. You wonder where he is at this exact moment. Is he lying in some unfamiliar room, staring at a ceiling that isn’t yours? Is he hurting just as much as you are? The image of his face in that final moment — eyes filled with despair, arm outstretched as if reaching for you — is seared into your mind. You hug yourself tighter, the ache in your chest nearly doubling you over.

“I need you… I need you so much,” he confessed to you in the dark. You press a fist to your mouth as a sob threatens to break loose. You wonder if, wherever he is, he needs you now. You wonder if he knows that you feel the same — that you’re half a person without him here. You never got to say it, but you’d hoped he understood.

Fresh tears spill down your cheeks. There’s no closure, no goodbye — just a rift carved through your life where he used to be. Maybe in another world, another life, you could have been happy together, free to love each other without fear. But not in this one.

In this life, all you have is the memory of his touch, now painfully out of reach. And the knowledge that somewhere out there, Beom-seok carries the same shattered pieces of your shared secret, the same ache in his soul. You close your eyes and let the grief wash over you, drowning in it, because it’s the only piece of him you have left.

The house remains silent and still around you, bearing witness to the quiet tragedy. And as dawn approaches, you finally crawl back into your cold, empty bed, the finality of what you’ve lost settling heavily in your bones. He’s gone, and with him, a part of you is gone too. All that remains is the hollow echo of what could have been, and a secret love that must now live on only in memory.

[thatmooncake]

Liking Nexus and wanting to imagine him getting a redemption arc isn’t cringe, some of you guys are just mean

People go to great lengths to defend their faves, seemingly afraid they’ll get the same treatment Nexus did both by the fans and the series and become the demonised unfavourite - the scapegoat who can do no right. At the same time many insist Nexus and his fans somehow uniquely “deserve” this treatment (Nexus can’t, he’s made up - his fans don’t, some people are just mean) and that these things befell Nexus specifically for an actual reason.

They did.

The reason was the writers wanted something new for the character.

Not him not trying hard enough to grieve better or be a better victim of Ruin’s actions. Not him “liking Solar more than Sun”. Not New Moon being the “worse” choice out of him and Moon (meta reason given is Moon literally came back because they needed a Moon - of course Moon was the better choice out of him and Nexus who was an active threat at the time, the reverse would’ve been true if it’d been New Moon vs Moon with the killcode actively causing damage). Not him being more villainous than Ruin or Eclipse (I am not going to be debating whether genocide or murder is morally better or worse than verbally, psychologically and physically harming a small handful of people, sorry). Not something that was subtly established throughout his entire time as New Moon. Not something that was planned from the start. Just a change in direction. That holds literally no moral weight - that’s not something to hate each other over. The writers are allowed to do that - it also needs to be understood as being a writing decision that, although it was retroactively woven into the narrative to some degree, was made on a whim.

It could’ve more or less been any character this happened to. It still could happen to basically any of them. They’re made up, they don’t make their own choices, they don’t get to fight against what the writers want, they don’t get to make appeals on narrative decisions. You’re not watching a documentary of a fictional world where in-story choices aren’t made for a meta narrative reason - sometimes writing decisions are made on the fly due to the nature of the medium. And when the characters’ choices don’t fit within the established narrative aside from to be a change for the sake of change (literally the meta reason given for Nexus going evil) and the in-story reason that has been repeatedly established for the entire villain arc is literally psychosis plus ingesting a substance that made the character in question quite literally lose his mind as demonstrated and explained by multiple other characters - both mitigating factors that didn’t need to be included if they weren’t supposed to be taken into account when considering how this character got to where he got - when his villain arc alone required a mastermind interloper character to step in and manipulate his every step into villainy, his decisions can’t be reasonably treated as 100% informed or as part of his established in-story disordered “personality”, because we already know they happened because they needed to happen for the story to progress the way the writers wanted it to, and yet still effort was put into heavily mitigating his ability to make good choices, which shouldn’t just be written off or ignored because you want to bash the character or make his fans feel bad for liking him.

More food for thought: Nexus isn’t blameless or a good guy. He’s done bad things. Despite Dark Sun’s involvement, despite the nsp, despite the grief, despite the psychosis. You don’t have to like him, pretend to find him good or interesting, or give him a pass. You can hate his guts. But you know who else was unequivocally considered a bad guy who didn’t deserve a pass at the time he died (twice, maybe three times in fact)? Eclipse. You know who accomplished more damaging acts of villainy and had just as bad or worse intentions than Nexus at the time of his death(s)? Eclipse.

And the difference between the two - the thing that sees Nexus written off as an irredeemable “psychopath” (respectfully, both this and “narcissist” are misappropriated terms for stigmatised disorders so it’s best not to use them in this circumstance btw) while Eclipse is now praised for taking all these steps in the right direction - is that the writers chose to give Eclipse a redemption arc and they didn’t choose to go down that route with Nexus. Nexus was not more uniquely “deserving” of being the narrative unfavourite or the scapegoat. He just wasn’t chosen to get better - he wasn’t allowed to do better. That could have been Eclipse. That could have been Ruin. In this case it was Nexus. Like it or not, that’s just simply how it happened.

I’m allowed to care about that and imagine more possibilities. You’re allowed to not care about that and dislike him. You don’t get a pass for bullying people over it.

There is literally no good reason to demonise Nexus or his fans more than any other character or keep telling them what he is or isn’t “capable of” or “correct” them and laugh at them for imagining alternative outcomes they might like better. The canonical answer is: he’s not capable of anything anymore, he’s not in the story. The non-canonical answer is: let people use their own imaginations, especially when the writers have decided they don’t want to or have chosen not to use this character anymore. That’s not a diss on them. It is what it is.

Have you seen the DCA fandom? The DCA isn’t canonically a mermaid or a spy or a god or anyone’s love interest. The DCA doesn’t get adopted in canon. No one let that stop them from having fun, and honestly power to them for their creativity and acceptance even when they disagree. Imagination isn’t cringe - it’s a good thing. It’s great that people enjoy this character that much actually. We all have stuff we like and dislike and don’t care about and that’s a-okay. There’s a difference between that and constantly derailing people’s fun to say rude insulting things about the thing they like while they’re trying to talk about it. You’re not hurting Nexus - Nexus isn’t real, he isn’t capable of being hurt. You’re hurting real people for the crime of liking a made up character in a way you don’t like or agree with. Say what you like about things being cringe - that’s worse than cringe. I don’t care how badly you want to find someone or a group of people you can say it’s acceptable to bully for some reason. You’re not being cute and sassy, you’re just being mean. People are allowed to harmlessly enjoy themselves (especially if their fave happened to draw the short end of the stick in canon) even if you don’t like it or find it annoying - please give other people that level of consideration at least.

(And no I won’t be derailing this to debate Nexus’ morality or whether you think that I’m somehow saying he didn’t make any of his own choices or didn’t do anything wrong (tl;dr I didn’t). Respectfully, this post is about meta narrative analysis and fandom meanness and how yes, basically any character could’ve been and could still be Nexus’d.)

[the-indigo-symphony]

Sometimes I want to use this blog to talk about pluralphobia but like. Where do I even begin.

Almost every system I've ever talked to has at least one story about being mocked/shamed/hated or worse for their plural traits. So many of us deal with those we're close to treating us like serial killers in waiting due to how media portrays us. Fandom spaces treat us like hypotheticals and act disgusted when you tell them their "totally Weird™ and Random™ prompt" is some people's lived reality. Medical professionals dehumanize us and marginalized communities follow in their footsteps to deny us any language or space to talk about ourselves, because how dare we say we're similar to them, how dare we treat our individual selves as individuals and not party tricks that need to be put away when we are having Serious Discussions. People will claim to support us, but in order to support us, they simply must insult us, fakeclaim us, send us gore and threats and suicide bait, threaten to make false reports of tax fraud against us (yes, this is a real thing that happened to me once), openly wish for our deaths, use any and every excuse they can to delegitimize us, compare us to slave owners and Nazis, demonize the tools we made for ourselves while using them for themselves or even claiming credit for their creation, mock our terminology, run us off emergency hotlines, even get us institutionalized – don't you know that's what "support" looks like, you silly little blogger that we will spin into either a helpless, manipulated child that must publicly admit every trauma they've ever endured to justify their existence online, or an evil, manipulative bigot that denies the latest science (no matter what those articles actually say), depending on whatever suits our latest narrative?

I know plurals personally who have had to choose between being open + receiving help they need... and remaining housed. Remaining fed. Remaining safe. And we can't even point out that a character is plural representation because then people clamber over each other about how plurality in media is never anything more than a metaphor – unless, of course, it's from a horror franchise. Then, at least, we might get an admission that they're sorta almost similar to DID, except totally not, so don't worry about it, there's nothing more to see here.

Where do you even begin when there's so much to talk about and yet just calling pluralphobia "systemic" causes people to start spitting out denials and dismissals and erasure at the speed of light?

I am an optimist because I have to be but oh my gosh it is fucking hard to be sometimes.

(Not looking for cheering up on this post. Please keep any reblogs on-topic regarding pluralphobia and erasure.)

[dimestoresuguru]

bestfriend!gojo x reader | 2.

PART ONE.

cw; fem reader, uhh angst, very guilty gojo bc he now thinks he's an awful friend, ur mad bc hes avoiding u which like u should be bruh, strong language again :p but less this time

author; erm so i saw an anakin/darth vader edit to pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine so now we're here. STAR WARS EDITORS IM COMING FOR U ISTG. also r we feeling the fic vibes w this bc I AM

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚⊹♡. ⋆｡𖦹°‧₊˚⊹♡. ⋆｡𖦹°‧ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

bestfriend!gojo who after comforting you and getting you home with all your favourite snacks, starts to avoid you. not because of anything you did, but because he feels so so guilty about thinking of you so nastily while you were venting to him. it wasn't right, and he's tearing himself up about it.

bestfriend!gojo who replies the best he can when he texts you, but always claims he's busy when you ask if he can come over. this of course only makes him feel worse about it, but he also feels that if he looked you in the eyes right now, you would be able to see every shameful thing he has ever thought swimming in his eyes; so he just can't. not right now.

bestfriend!gojo who barely pries himself off of his couch to answer the door. his ass has been plastered to those cushions for the better part of a week and a half, so it really is a struggle for him to get up. he wasn't expecting a delivery of anything, but he figures that somewhere in his guilt-and-anxiety-ridden haze that he must've ordered something to eat.

instead of a pizza guy, he comes face to face with your thunderous expression. he almost slams the door in your face, not ready to deal with the inevitable consequences to his avoidance of you. but he can see that behind your anger at him, there are the beginnings of tears in the corners of your eyes. so, he silently steps aside to let you into his apartment.

he immediately regrets that decision, given the fact that his apartment is in a shameful state of dissaray and you've never seen it less than perfectly clean. but, evidently, you don't care about that. you simply turn to him and (rightfully) start shouting.

"why the fuck have you been avoiding me?"

oh, the hurt in your voice absolutely fucking kills him. "i wasn't, i've just been really busy."

"oh don't give me that bullshit," you scoff, so not in the mood to hear him make excuses "i know that you haven't been going to class. and suguru seems to think that you're just fine because you haven't been acting off to him, just to me. why, satoru? what did i do? because i don't understad why you're treating me like this."

it's bestfriend!gojo's turn to tear up, because he didn't realise how awful he had been making you feel. he had thought that since you were going through something with mike that you would appreciate some space. that you might not even notice.. if he pulled away.

oh how wrong he was.

"i swear that you haven't done anything, baby, i just needed.. i just needed some time. i've been.. struggling a bit with my class workload-" he tries, but you're not having any of that.

"satoru gojo, you better stop bullshitting me, i swear to god-"

"I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, OKAY?" he blurts before he can even second guess what he's saying. his mouth now has a mind of it's own, there's not stopping what he's about to tell you. "I'm in love with you, moron, and last week when you were crying in my car i couldn't stop thinking about laying you out in my backseat and making sure the only thing you could think about was how good my dick was making you feel, not some idiotic guy who can't see how amazing you are." he takes a breath, and keeps going, because it's now or never. "and it wasn't just last week, it's been months, and i can't get the thought of you out of my head. you've been driving me crazy, because you are so goddamn gorgeous and you never seem to see it."

bestfriend!gojo who has thoroughly made you speechless in the middle of his living room.

bestfriend!gojo who is waiting with bated breath for your response, truly terrified for what you'll say next.

[wcnderlnds]

to the moon [part four] ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after being bit by the jealousy bug, you're certain seunghyun would want nothing to do with you but he proves you wrong. ・❥・word count: 1.5k ・❥・warnings: none, really. ・❥・ authors note: consider this a filler chapter before we get to the good stuff <3 i also did not proofread this because it's late and im tired so forgive me for any mistakes.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

The morning came with many regrets but that bitter, sinking feeling still lingered in your stomach. Memories of the night before plagued your mind. You kept replaying it in your head, trying to figure out if you had read the situation wrong but your mind and your heart were pulling you in two different directions. Your head was telling you that you’d acted irrational, Seunghyun and Rhiannon were nothing more than friends but your heart? Well, it was so emotionally attached to Seunghyun that it ached at the mere thought of him even liking someone else. You hated the way you’d acted, it was embarrassing and definitely not the impression you wanted to give Seunghyun or his friends but you couldn’t take it back now. All you could do was deal with the consequences.

Catching feelings for Seunghyun had never been part of the plan but you couldn’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat every time you saw him now or how each time he looked at you, the butterflies in your stomach began to stir. There was no point denying it now. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to feel the same now you’d made a fool out of yourself.

With a sigh, you grabbed your phone, seeing a few texts from Seunghyun. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them yet so instead you decided to hop in the shower to clear your mind. Maybe it would bring you some sense of clarity, possibly the courage you needed to finally text him back.

Fresh out of the shower, you got changed opting for something casual – there was no need to make an effort, it was the weekend and you had no plans. Just as you were about to head into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, there was a knock on the door. You stopped in your tracks. You weren’t expecting anyone so who could it be? A little hesitantly, you made your way to the front door and opened it to see the last person you expected.

Seungyhun.

There he stood, a shy smile on his face, hands behind his back like he was hiding something. Your first thought was how the hell did he get your address but then you remembered you’d shared it with him in case he ever needed a place to crash. He looked you over as if he was making sure you were okay. Those big, beautiful eyes of his shining with concern. He didn’t let you have a chance to speak, opening his mouth before you could.

“You weren’t answering any of my texts and I was worried so I had to come and make sure you were okay,” his voice was gentle.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I… uh, just needed some time to breathe,” you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

There was a beat of silence before Seunghyun spoke again, his voice soft. “She’s just a friend, you know?”

Oh. He’d figured it out. 

“...yeah, I know. I just…” you trailed off, unable to find the words to say.

Seunghyun finally pulled his arms from behind his back to hold out a bear. The very same bear he’d been holding last night. “I won this for you. Rhiannon was making fun of me because I was asking her if you’d like it and was nervous about giving it to you.”

“Oh.” The corners of your lips twitched up in a smile, taking the bear from him. Your hand brushed against his, sparks coursing through your whole body. You hugged the bear to your chest. It was almost unbelievable how sweet he was and you’d gone and jumped to conclusions. “I’m sorry. For acting the way I did. I’m just… not good at this. People usually end up hurting me so my mind jumps to the worst.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured you. “I’m the same way but I promise you, I have no intentions of hurting you. I… uh, I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to come and get brunch with me. We had our time cut short last night and, well, I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, thankful you had the bear to clutch onto at that moment. “...like, as a date or… am I jumping to conclusions again?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, a date. If you want. Doesn’t have to be but I’d like it to be.”

“I’d love to.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Seunghyun had chosen a beautiful, little cafe in a secluded part of town. It was the perfect place for a first date. You still couldn’t believe you were actually on a date with him. After last night you were sure he wouldn’t want anything to do with you, believing that you had been too dramatic for him but here you were. Seunghyun sat opposite you, telling you his latest training. You hung on to his every word, nodding when you needed to ask, asking questions at the right moment. It was like he’d never had anyone to really talk to about this and he hadn’t. Most people weren’t interested but you? Well, you were the complete opposite. It was nice to have someone so interested in what he had to say. He could tell it was genuine, too. A lot of people would pretend to talk to him just because of who he was but you didn’t care about any of that. It was one of the reasons he was so drawn to you.

You finished the last bite of your pancakes, pushing the plate to the side. Seunghyun had insisted on paying for the whole thing even though you’d offered to go half with him. He really was the sweetest, kindest person you’d ever met. He’d literally shown up on your door after you’d ignored him and had a jealous meltdown. Most guys wouldn’t look back after that but he wasn’t most guys.

“When do you actually go to the moon then?” You asked.

“Not for a while yet. Still got a lot of training to do and they need to work on the ship. Why? You worried you’re going to miss me when I go?” He teased.

“Well, duh. Once you get up there, you might not want to come back.”

“I think knowing you’re here is more than enough of a reason to come back.”

You blushed, shyly looking down at your empty plate. Your heart raced, cheeks heating up. Seunghyun only laughed, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“Shutup,” you said with no real bite. “It’s not cute turning into a human tomato.”

“I think you’d be a cute tomato.”

“Oh my god.”

He grinned at you, the dimples in his cheeks showing and it made you want to lean over the table and kiss him. Thoughts drifted back to that almost kiss from last night. Your eyes darted down to his lips for a brief second but he caught it. He must’ve been thinking the same thing because he leaned over the small table, cupping your cheek, his eyes scanning yours for any hesitation. When he saw none, he made the move, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours – you could feel his breath on your face, the ghost of his lips almost touching yours – then his phone began to ring.

“...you’ve got to be kidding me?” He mumbled under his breath. The disappointment in his tone didn’t go amiss. Yet another failed attempt at a kiss. Was this the universes’ way of telling you this wasn’t going to happen?

Seunghyun answered the call. You watched as he spoke, his eyebrows furrowing then he ended the call with a sigh. The apology was written all over his face and you knew what was coming next. As much as you didn’t want him to leave – you could spend all day sitting here talking with him, you knew that it was important. So, you weren’t going to stop him. You smiled warmly at him. “It’s okay. If you need to go, go.”

“I don’t want to,” he huffed like a child. “I want to stay with you but… I have to.”

“Space stuff?”

“Space stuff,” he confirmed with a nod. “You better text me back now. I don’t want to have to show up at your door again.”

“I will, I promise.” Then you hesitated for a moment, a little nervous to ask him the question running through your mind but if he could ask you out on a date, you could ask him this. “Me and my friends are heading out to a bar tonight for a few drinks. Would you like to come? You can bring your friends, if you like.”

Seunghyun’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to. Text me the details and I’ll see you there.”

Once he paid the bill, the two of you made your way out. The warm air of Texas hit you instantly, Seunghyun standing in front of you, barely any space between you. For a moment it seemed like he was going to try and go in for a kiss again but instead he placed a hand on your hip momentarily, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah… later.”

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib @moontabi @loonybunny1

[bejewellery]

just for one night

summary: you asked your friends to be civil to just one night, things escalated quickly but not because of them.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

since you were the most responsible of your group of friends, you all warned them not to get themselves into anything chaotic tonight. just for once. to pope and john b , to not fall into any of the kooks’ provocations. to kie, to not start arguing with some touron about how climate exchange exists and it is important— nothing wrong with that if it didn’t end up with her being dragged out of the kegger on john b’s shoulder while screaming. to sarah and cleo, to try not to jump that insufferable bitch, ruthie. and least, to your boyfriend, jj, to not start anything with anyone. because as everyone knows, even the smallest thing, said with bad intention, could provoke into jj a little bit of overreaction, causing a huge fight— both physical and verbal— with anyone, creating an huge mess.

you were all having fun, it was nice and peaceful, all of you tipsy if not drunk and enjoying the night, laughing at some joke that cleo just made— you loved the girl. you could see in pope’s eyes that she let him breathe and not worry as much as he did before meeting her, he was finally getting more relaxed and acting like a normal teenager again.

it all started with john b and sarah getting up, going to "fill their drinks"— sure. whatever. no one believed them anymore. then pope and cleo, classic. and when kiara started talking to a girl, you and your boyfriend took the clue (her dirty look that she gave both of you) and left.

you were standing next to a keg, cosy in jj’s embrace— he was it for you. you knew it. he knew it. everyone knew it. he practically lived in your house since things with luke got bad again— but it wasn’t a problem: your family loved him.

he helped your dad in the kitchen, your mum with the groceries, and when your cousins would come around, they all stayed on the couch watching some surf competition. he was the love of your life, the only and last one, because you already wrapped your head around that if something would happen between the two of you, no one could ever replace him, and there would be no one after him.

your thoughts interrupted by someone bumping into you, spilling some of their drink on both of you and jj. you looked at him, expecting him to say something, but even drunk he remembered that you asked him to behave and for once he listened. you watched him take a breath and just try not to say anything.

"watch it, dude". of course—topper. he was the one who bumped into you, and he is saying to 'watch it'? he was a joke. still with jj’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, you looked at your boyfriend, waiting for him to say something, anything— he didn’t.

topper at the non-reaction laughed in his face, you started to feel jj tensing, you gripped into his arm. "c’mon dude, aren’t you gonna say anything?" and then he pushed him, causing you to stumble a little, this is when jj flipped. he scoffed, irritated—obviously so. "nah man, don’t like to waste my time with daddy’s rich boy." topper come closer, facing jj with a smirk through his lips. oh no.

"what did you say to me?" jj lifted his face, looking at him straight through his eyes. "you heard me man, walk away before you end up like the other times." he pushed him slightly, with one hand, still causing topper to trip back. it started with the same insults. they always bothered you, but tonight even more. and he continued, trying to push jj to his limit, but he didn’t break. not tonight. not after he promised you. now he is fighting with every bone in his body to not shut that big mouth that topper had with only just one punch. his knuckles turning white.

"something happened, maybank? huh? that drunk of your dad finally thought you a lesson by hitting-" topper twisted his neck sharply when the fist of someone hit his face. then he turned his head back, still shocked by the punch. he brought his hand on his bloody nose. but what shocked him most was that maybank was still, the same reaction as topper reflecting in his face. it wasn’t jj that punched him.

it was you.

you stayed composed, ignoring your hand burning because of the contact with topper’s face. you got closer to him, with an intimidating air— he flinched. the scariest thing was how calm you looked. your eyes met with his.

"i am saying this for the first and last time. you stay away from my boyfriend and my friends topper, because if you don’t i’m not afraid to tell your lawyer of a dad how you’ve been buying lots from barry. so get back to your side of the island before i…" jj interrupted you, back with his arm placed on your shoulder— that calmed you, just a little, not too much.

that’s when you looked around; people gathered in a circle to assist the scene. your friends that were standing behind jj had a mix of both amusing and surprising looks on their faces.

cleo gave you an okay sign with her hand, looking proud.

"okay that’s enough! get back to the party, everyone!" your boyfriend yelled, guiding you back to the others through the crowd.

you were welcomed by the laughs of the pogues, cheering for you.

"girl. that—was fucking insane," exclaimed sarah, john b nudged her shoulder in approval, extending his hand towards you for an high five, adding "well, mrs. responsabile finally gave in to the dark side." you just laughed. with them, your anger wasn’t there anymore, relived that it didn’t happen nothing far worse than that.

"what did you even say to him?" asked kiara with an arched brow, a little smile playing on her lips. you shrugged, like you hadn’t just blackmailed topper and punched the guy. "just that if he wouldn’t leave us alone i would tell his dad that his monthly allowance has been going straight to barry over the past year." pope’s eyes widened in shock.

"are you crazy?! what if he tells him? you’ll be seen as a threat by barry y/n!" yes—that was a risk, but you knew barry and he owed you a favour, so you weren’t worried; he knew you would never turn him in.

you just exhaled with a little giggle, the fact that now they were the ones scolding you—when since you were little, it has always been you scolding them, was hilarious.

"relax pope, i would never snitch on barry. even if topper does tell him, he trusts me and would never believe that i would do that. plus he owes me one. so everything is good, you guys. let’s just hope that blonde there doesn’t bring rafe the next time." you shot and apologetic look towards sarah, but she just dismissed you with her hand— she knew who rafe had become and what could happen if her brother was there too, so she didn’t take your sarcastic remark to heart: it was only the truth.

jj was too silent, cheeks flushed, absent look and that idiot smirk of his that could always make your head spin. pope waved his hand in front of his best friend "guys we lost him".

kiara chuckled "i think y/n broke him", you just rolled your eyes, smiling shyly, focusing on your boyfriend. and when you were just about to say something to wake him up from his status of trance —your mouth was suddenly shut with a passionate kiss.

it was certainly unexpected but not less appreciated. jj hands vaguely going towards your waist, pushing you more towards him, making you go up into your tippy toes. you could hear your friends making fake disgust sounds as the kiss deepened, making you both smile into it.

when the kiss stopped, jj had both of his hands on your cheeks, looking at you lovingly while out of breath. you just waited for him to say something, and he did: "you are insane, and i love you. no one has ever defended me like this, and you don’t even know how much this means to me y/n." you smiled at him, while your heart skipped a beat.

oh how much you loved jj maybank.

"and i love you jj, i just couldn’t stand that asshole saying those things to you anymore." he gave you a quick peck on the lips, while holding your hand, interlocking your fingers. heading towards the pogues to walk towards the château— it will be a long walk— mostly because all of them are teasing both of you and jj about your passionate kiss in front of half of the island, your cheeks flushed and jj laughed, brushing it off.

in moments like these, you knew how lucky you were— and one thing was certain: jj maybank knew he was too.

[sepicriting]

What would happen if reader confesses to the twins first ? Either one of them only or both of them ?

confessing first to yandere twins

—ask yourself, are you sure you want this?

contents: yandere male x gender-neutral reader. yandere female x gender-neutral reader. only reference to reader/darling is 'you' and the nickname 'firestorm'. murder.

notes: i think i went a bit overboard diving deeper into them, but do enjoy!

If you were the one to confess first to both of them at once, their reactions would largely depend on how you confess.

Because imagine spending time with them, arms linked with both. Lina is happily pointing to every single item she thinks you’d like, with Varis passively listening though his eyes are on you. Then you say: “I like you two.”

Their heads whip to you and you feel them stop instantly. The air changes, Lina’s mouth is hanging open while Varis’s surprise is written all over his face.

Lina’s nervous laughter could be heard first. “I-I don’t think I heard you properly? Did you say you wanted two of something, firestorm?” She tries to convince herself that you didn’t just say what her heart’s been wanting you to say. She can’t be greedy, she thinks.

“‘m pretty sure your firestorm jus’ said somethin’ else.” Varis’s voice rang close, his head lowering to lay on your shoulder. “Wanna repeat it?” Close enough to feel his breath on your neck, the tips of his hair brushing against your cheek.

You stammer out what you said, rendered flustered by the handsome man. All he does is hum with a smile, shooting his sister a look that has her moving closer so you’d be trapped.

“Do you really mean that, firestorm…?” Lina has tiny hearts in her eyes now, waiting with bated breath for your confirmation.

If you prepared beforehand to confess to both of them by taking them someplace nice, Varis picks up rather quickly that you’re trying to woo them. He’d spend the entire time giving you knowing grins behind his sister’s back, and play dumb when you ask him what’s up. He’d keep up the poorly-concealed act until you break the ice and say you like them both.

Now, about confessing to only one of the twins… You would be in for a lot of risk here. The entire reason why the twins come in a package and not separately is all because they know they would kill each other if one or the other has your heart. They still do care about each other to a certain degree, enough to steer away from murdering, so to have you confessing to only one is akin to a dam breaking — Disaster will strike.

Lina, on the other hand, would be none the wiser. She’ll overthink and inwardly fawn over your attempts to romance them, but then quickly scold herself and say that she’s still not quite your type and she has to try harder to embody that. Hearing you say that you like them both would cause her brain to short-circuit and her face to overheat. But nonetheless, she would happily be with you! And her brother too, she supposes…

The tricky part is that you’re kept unaware of the twins’ dark sides, so you wouldn’t be able to hear about it until the twin of your choice lets you know what the other’s been doing behind your back — Of course, they’re completely innocent! They were just scared/wary of their twin doing anything to you if you found out…so please don’t be upset at them!

The next course of action they would do depends on who you’ve chosen to confess to.

Lina would take you elsewhere, somewhere FAR away, someplace you won’t be hurt or involved. Sadly, this would mean that you would have to give up using technology and switch to more traditional ways of life — the only thing that would be left is an old television. She’s well-aware that her brother would be able to track both of you with his talents, so you’d be subjected to a life of constant fear and protection with Lina. Going to your family was out of the question, Varis wouldn’t hesitate to take them down too.

She’d be updated on all the recent deaths on the news, a trail of bodies leading closer and closer to where you are. And she’s not stupid, she knows this is his doing. It wouldn’t be long before he’s found you.

Ultimately, you might wake up to find someone dead at your door. Just pray that it isn’t the woman who's been keeping you safe.

Varis wouldn’t go to such extremes, not at first. He’d keep you right where you are, insisting to let him do all of the work. Though you’re scared of what Lina might do, he’s calm, with business as usual as he types away on his laptop an hour after you’ve learned the truth. That’s not quite correct though, he’s only keeping it together because he knows what he does next is crucial to being with you. Even as you face Lina with Varis, you keep his words in mind on how to behave so you wouldn’t be next. Wouldn’t be suspected.

He arranges a huge scandal that discredits Lina in the form of a post, exposing her for all of her misdeeds and nasty actions. It’s enough to cause her to riot, but you wouldn’t be there to witness it as you’ve fled.

You wouldn’t hear anything about her from Varis for a long while. He’s kept you in the dark, though you know he’s been keeping tabs on her behind the scenes. He’s trying to give you some semblance of a normal life, and maybe you appreciate that… Though, when the doorbell rang and the police stood before the barrier, telling Varis that he would be arrested, you completely missed the familiar figure of Lina watching in the distance.

[naturesapphic]

hey there, i have a request,

billie × reader

reader had some bad experience with a guy so she kinda hates the idea of straps.

billie and reader were staying at reader's friend and reader was being a brat. billie shows her her place when they get back home and surprises her by a strap hidden in the closet, reader gets mad but Billie makes the reader comfortable and tell her its okay and all. and now the reader loves strap :)

ignore if it sounds weird

Strapped In

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, hurt/comfort, strap, some fluff

Word count: 1,234

“I can’t believe you acted like that in front of our friends!” Billie scolded you as she unlocks the front door of y’all’s shared home. You rolled your eyes and huffed as you went inside with a fuming Billie behind you. “Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me. Stop being such a damn brat!” She exclaimed and all you did was roll your eyes once more and that drove Billie mad. “That’s it. Get your ass upstairs now.” She said with a cold tone that made your body have chills. You knew you crossed the line with her and you needed to listen now before your punishment got worse.

You acted like you didn’t care and huffed as you went up the stairs with an angry Billie behind you. Once you are in the bedroom she pushes you on the bed and demands you to strip. You smirk and shake your head no which Billie responds to. “You really are gonna regret being a brat babygirl.” She says in a cold tone that makes you wet. She goes in the closet for a second and secures a strap around her waist. Your eyes widen at it and you start shaking your head no. “No. No way Billie. We can do anything else but that.” You said seriously and Billie cocked her head at you.

“You still trying to be a brat?” She asked and you shook your head. “No billie I’m being serious I don’t do straps.” You say and Billie walks over to you and sits beside you on the bed. “Baby what’s wrong.” She asked and you told her about your exes and how bad they were. You even told her where one was so bad that he made you sore, and not in the good way either. So you hate the idea of straps and penises all together. Billie listened to every word you said and took it to heart. “Oh princess…I’m so sorry that happened to you. If I could, I’d cut off their balls and have you feed it to them. You should have experienced pleasure, not pain. If it’s okay with you, could I at least try? As soon as you say stop I’ll stop baby. You don’t even have to agree with it.” Billie asks you.

You thought about it for a few moments and decided to give it a try. Besides, Billie isn’t a man and without the strap she’s made you cum plenty of times so this shouldn’t be any different. Most importantly, you trust her with everything you have. “Can we do a safe word?” You ask her shyly and Billie smiles brightly at you. “Of course we can baby. I’m so proud of you for asking. What word should we do?” She asked and you thought about it. “What about blohsh?” You asked and Billie shakes her head yes. “I love it! You are so smart baby.” She said lovingly and your cheeks turns a bright red. “Remember, we can stop at any time alright?” She reminded you and you nodded your head.

“Now…don’t think I forgot about your act at our friends house did you?” She said, her voice changing. She wraps her ring covered hand around her throat and looks deep into your eyes. You shook your head no and felt your hole pulsate at her words and actions. “Good. Because I’m gonna fuck the bratness out of you.” Billie said and you let out a whimper. Billie helped you get out of your clothes, then she slowly let you take off her clothes, the strap being the only thing she has on. She looked like a goddess that was sculpted in ancient times. Billie could feel your eyes on her and she let her dom side spilt for a second as her cheeks got red. Billie loves when you look at her with love and she knows you mean it fully.

Billie tightens her grip around your throat gently and uses her other hand to leave slow caresses on your body. Goosebumps littered your body as her touches traveled to your weak spots and you knew you were dripping by this point. She leaned down and started kissing your neck while subtly starts to grind on you, the strap hitting your clit with every thrust. Every time she would move her hips, your body jolted with pleasure and moans escaped your mouth loudly. “Can I put it in?” She whispered in your ear and you nodded frantically, your arousal growing each second. Billie went down with her hands and grabbed the strap and gently slid it into your pussy.

Your eyes screwed shut at the slight pain but moans quickly escaped your mouth when the pain subsided and all you could feel was pleasure. Billie was so much more gentler than your exes and you appreciated it so much. After a bit of Billie being gentle, she started to speed up her movements, causing you more pleasure. You’ve never felt like this over a strap before and you definitely need to try different things out with Billie. The strap continuously hits your g-spot with every thrust that Billie makes and you feel your eyes roll back. Your legs started to shake and you knew that soon, you were going to climax. Billie sped up her movements even more and reached down to your clit, rubbing it in circles.

You shoved your face in Billie’s breasts as you came. Your whole body shook and cum leaked from your pussy, onto the strap and Billie’s legs. Billie after a few minutes of waiting, gently pulled out of you, making you whimper from the loss. Waiting more, Billie carefully got out of bed and ran to get you and her some water. She got some cold bottles from the fridge with some fruits that both of y’all enjoyed. Billie came back into the room and carefully placed the bowl of fruit in your lap as she helps you sip on your water. You happily drank the water and Billie drank some of hers. The two of you sat there drinking your water and eating your fruit for a few minutes until Billie breaks the silence.

“Thank you for trusting me and letting me make you feel good.” She said with vulnerability in her voice that made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Thank you for making me feel good and for staying true to your word.” You replied with the same vulnerability she gave you. Billie’s lips grew into a wide smile and she leaned over to place a gentle kiss to your lips. You kissed back and Billie smiled, breaking it making you giggle. The rest of the night was filled with eating fruit and sharing kisses, making the night sweeter than you could have imagined.

A/n: thank you anon for this request! I hope you and everyone else liked it! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! :)

[ladykailitha]

Forever Young Part 5

Welcome back to the fluffy fic that is angsty as hell, because apparently I can't write Steve without delving into trauma. Especially this chapter. I think I made myself tear up just now, re-reading this chapter to post it.

Like it has Steve trauma, the poorer kids clashing against the rich kids, and Mike and Max having a minor bonding moment.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Will slipped out of the door to talk to his mom and Hopper before they left. He needed to know a could of things about Steve. It might not make them all adults again, but he felt like he needed it to understand Steve better.

“Mom!” he called out, jogging up to her. “Just a couple of questions really quick, and then you guys can leave.”

Joyce turned to him, and cocked her head. “What’s up, baby?”

“They don’t remember anything from after their current age,” Will said slowly. “So Steve’s kinda freaking out about this house. I was wondering if either one of you might remember when the Harrington’s moved in, so we have better idea of how to handle that.”

Hopper and Joyce looked at each other for a moment.

“God,” Hopper said rubbing his chin. “I think it was before I came back to town. Steve was in middle school then.”

Joyce nodded. “The Harringtons aren’t from Hawkins originally. To be honest, no one was sure why they moved into town in the first place. But I think it was in Jonathan’s first or second grade.”

“So Steve was about eight or nine you think?” Will pressed, leaning forward interest.

“That sounds about right,” Joyce confirmed. “No one was expecting anyone to move into this large house. It’s larger than most of the houses in Loch Nora. But they did.”

Will licked his lips as he thought about that. “I know it’s not talked about in polite society or whatever, but Steve is giving us the impression that his dad didn’t always cheat and his mom wasn’t always distant, so...”

“So you’re wondering if it was an immediate change when they got to town or if it happened later down the line?” Hopper asked, putting one hand on his hip as he continued to rub his chin.

“You’re brother was never one for sports, sweetie,” Joyce said, pained. “So I don’t know if they came to Steve’s games or anything.”

“I’d say about the time Steve started high school was when the troubles started,” Hopper said, putting his other hand on his hip and shifting his weight. “Because that’s when Steve started acting out. Clint called it youthful transgressions and always bailed Steve out, but I’d say that’s about when the Harringtons starting leaving on longer and longer trips out of town.”

“Is that everything you needed, Will?” she asked gently. “Because we really need to get going.”

Will nodded and both Joyce and Hopper got into his truck, pulling away from Will.

~

Lucas spotted Will coming back and mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’

Will nodded, sliding next to him at the counter.

“Will,” Wayne said without turning around from the stove where he was making dinner, “would you happen to know where Steve keeps his pots and pans, these yahoos didn’t.”

Will snorted. Because of course they didn’t. They never really helped Steve in the kitchen, it was always the older teens while they would hang out in the front room, letting them do all the work.

“Second pantry next to the hall.”

Wayne looked over his shoulder and Will pointed at the correct door. He whirled around and opened the door.

He blinked at the large space he found behind it in utter shock. It had pots and pans of every stripe no doubt. But it also had a blender, a hand mixer, a stand mixer, a food processor, a Crockpot, another microwave, mixing bowls, and Tupperware of every size and shape imaginable.

All the teenagers besides Will piled up around Wayne to see what he was staring at. Dustin turned to Little Steve who was sitting on the floor playing with Little Eddie with some string they found, and then back to the literal walk-in closet filled with kitchen stuff.

“Then what’s in the cupboards?” Mike whispered a little bit in awe. His parents were probably the richest of his friends, but not even they had a whole extra closet filled with stuff like this.

Hell, his mom was complaining that she didn’t have enough room in the kitchen.

Max went over to the cupboard by the sink and opened it slowly, unsure of what she would find. Inside were large containers of protein powder. El opened another one and there were cans of soup of nearly every kind she could think of.

They opened a couple more, but they were all filled with food.

“Well,” Wayne said, blinking for a moment. “At least we won’t have to go shopping for groceries.”

“He also has two chest freezers out in the garage,” Lucas said, “Max and I saw them when we were looking for toys for them to play with. They were filled to the brim of meat and frozen vegetables and shit.”

Dustin frowned and looked over at the kid who would grow up to be his best friend. Little Steve who was still playing Cat’s Cradle with Little Eddie. He let out a pained huff, that was a little on the nose. Like the song, Steve had grown up waiting for his dad to pay attention to him, but now, Mr. Harrington barely crossed his friend’s mind.

“They’re all food that doesn’t go bad easily,” he murmured and looked up at Wayne. “How long has the Harringtons relied on him to take care of himself?”

The older kids fell silent as the de-aged adults continued to laugh and play.

“I don’t know, son,” Wayne grumbled, “but it’s too long. Far, far too long.”

“Robin!” Lucas yelled, suddenly scrambling across the kitchen.

While everyone was focused on Little Eddie and Little Steve, Little Robin had decided that everyone was taking too long to feed her and took matters into her own tiny fists. She had managed to pull out a couple of drawers to crawl onto the counter where she was trying to reach the boxed mac and cheese.

Lucas caught her by the waist and hauled her away from the cupboard. “How did you know the mac was up there anyway?”

Little Robin stopped struggling for a moment to blink up at him. “Like where else is it gonna go?” Like Lucas was too dumb to know that everyone puts their mac and cheese above the stove for ease of grabbing.

“I don’t want mac and cheese!” Little Jonathan huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “It tastes funny!”

“Yeah!” Eddie whined, looking up at Wayne. “The powder stuff is gross!”

Mike and Dustin looked at each other in confusion. “The cheese?” Dustin asked, sneering.

Will winced and ducked his head to hide his blush. They absolutely did not mean the cheese. They meant the powdered milk. “It won’t be the powdered stuff,” he promised. “They have liquid milk.”

Little Jonathan frowned for a moment before he nodded. “Make sense, my friend Freddy gets to have liquid milk in his cereal when I sleepover.”

Will did not know that name, as far as he knew Jonathan didn’t have a friend named Freddie or even Fred.

“That’s not what we’re having for dinner,” Wayne growled. “Mac and cheese is a side and not a meal. Not unless you through in hot dogs or ground beef.”

“Ooh!” Little Robin said with a smile. “I always love it when Mom splurges for the hot dogs. She even puts ketchup in it!”

Little Steve made a face. “Ketchup is gross!”

Little Eddie looked over at his new friend in shock. “Ketchup is the only thing that makes hot dogs taste good!”

“Ketchup is too tangy,” Little Steve huffed, folding his arms over his chest with a pout. “Tomato sauce is better. But I like cheese on my hot dogs. That’s good.”

“Well it’s a good thing we aren’t doing either,” Wayne said, wading between them before things got heated. “I’ve got some chicken nuggets and french fries.”

Suddenly all the kids were clamoring for the prizes Wayne had brought. The teens started pulling out baking sheets and emptied the bags of chicken nuggets and fries onto them. They had long since learned how to work together from many a party there since the spring break from Hell.

Once the food was in the ovens, Wayne took the kids out front to let them play on the sprawling lawn while dinner cooked.

Will pulled out his notebook. “I’m adding Robin knowing where the mac and cheese was to the things they’re remembering.”

Dustin nodded and snapped his fingers. “Yeah. Let’s go everything they’ve remembered.”

Will started listing things with the others adding to the list from just the minor things they’ve heard one or the other of the newly minted kids said or did.

“But then they get confused,” El said cocking her head to the side, “and the memory vanishes.”

“Yeah,” Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips. “I thought Steve was going to legit start crying over the bats on Eddie’s arm.”

They all looked around at each other and frowned. The mystery only seemed to deepen rather than get closer to being solved. It certainly didn’t seem to be like it would be over come tomorrow, that was for sure.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” Max said with a small smile. “Like they’re always taking care of us, making sure we’re okay. It’s nice to be able to return the favor without making them feel like adults burdening kids, you know?”

Lucas’s jaw worked up and down but no sound came out.

“It is nice,” Will said wistfully, propping his chin on fist and gazing off into the distance. “But like I do miss Jonathan being older than me, too. Like I can’t talk to him about things when he’s like this.”

“Why couldn’t they have waited until one of us had a driver’s license?” Dustin huffed. “Then we wouldn’t have had to involve adults at all.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “It’s not like they asked for this!” He waved his arm out the window where they could hear the sounds of the kids playing. “They didn’t ask to be cursed for fuck’s sake and yeah it’s cute now, but I want my badass sister back.”

He stood there breathing heavily for a moment then threw his arms in the air, storming out to the back.

The resulting silence was deafening.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Max whispered, her lip quivering. “I just think they’re cute. I wasn’t saying that we shouldn’t get them back. Of course I want them back as adults.”

“I think Mike is just having a hard time suddenly being the oldest,” Lucas said taking her hand. “When you’re the middle child for so long and are suddenly made in charge of everything, that’s a lot of pressure.”

Then the green timer went off and Dustin went to go call them in. Will and El went into the kitchen to get the food out of the ovens. Lucas got down the plates and started putting the fries and nuggets on them.

Max watched for a moment before she walked to the back door where Mike was sitting in the sun room.

She knocked on the door frame. “Food’s ready.”

Mike was sitting on the sofa facing the pool, he had his hands clasped together under his chin, propped up on his knees. He just nodded.

Max sat down next to him, her hands sliding down her thighs to grab her knees. “You do know you’re not the only one in there who’s older sibling got zapped into being a child right? There’s Will and El for a start with Jonathan. Yes, El isn’t biologically related, but that’s still her foster brother. And even Dustin and I looked up to Eddie and Steve respectively as our older brothers. Again, not related by blood, but still important to us. Even Lucas really looks up to Steve. But you’re out here acting like you’re the only one who’s sibling got wrecked.”

He stared at her in wide eyed shock.

“It’s just we rely on them for so much,” she continued, “I just think they deserve a day or two just being kids. Eddie might have join the Party as an adult, but the rest of them didn’t. Sixteen felt old when we started this, but we’re all nearly that ourselves now. I really don’t feel old. Do you?”

“That’s just it,” Mike growled, “Nancy’s never been the responsible one, it’s always been me. And now she’s getting this grand baby’s day out and the responsibility again falls on my shoulders.”

Max frowned. “But she helped us out with Vecna. She was there, we couldn’t have done it without her.”

Mike scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Only because she didn’t want to miss the ‘big game’. She should have been with me seeing her boyfriend. But instead she thought writing an article about some stupid basketball game was more important than seeing her boyfriend whom she was supposed to be in love with. And she’s always like that. She would rather do what she wants then for the greater good or even for the love of her boyfriend or even brother both of which she says she loves very much. Doesn’t feel like it!”

Max blinked at him for a moment. Thinking back at all the times it was Steve and not Nancy or Jonathan standing between danger and the rest of them. Robin later when she became friends with Steve, but neither of them had any skin in the game. Not really.

“Oh.”

“Whatever,” he huffed and moved to stand up.

“Wait.” She pulled him by his sleeve and forced him to sit back down. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right, you deserve to be a kid too. For fuck’s sake you got shot at. A lot. It’s not being cursed by a fucking psychopath, but it’s still scary as hell. I know you wanted your big sister in that moment and you’re right, she should have been there.” She gripped his arm tightly. “I’m alive and so is Eddie, because she was with us. I know that’s not a consolation and it isn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, then what is it?”

“Proof that you never needed her to kick ass for you,” Max said gently. “We needed her, but you don’t. You never did, Mike. You’re pretty badass on your own.”

She stood up and walked back into the kitchen, leaving him there to think about that for a moment.

He scoffed, a small smile spreading over his face. No matter how hard he tried, the smile kept returning bigger every time. He snorted and then started laughing.

Mike got up and followed her back to the kitchen. Yeah. He really was pretty badass, wasn’t he?

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @stripey82 @tony-2012 @stedestielfrattficlover @micheledawn1975

10- @moonshadows-13 @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @morallyundefined @best-thing-at-this-party @ollieolive

[lululocomo]

Ello. I am back with two more ✨️questions.✨️ I suppose I am one who comes in pairs. (I can't help that every question I ask is a paragraph, I'm through, lol)

1. Meihua: literally anything, I crave knowledge about her. Is she a little sister to Mk? What is she like? Does she struggle with grief of those she lost in the attack? (I think she did, I can't remember) Does she see Macaque and Wukong as parents? How old is she - stuff like that.

2. How does Mk feel about being a monkey permanently? The form was choas in the past, but he's kinda delt with that? Or is it still lingering? Is he scared of his power now that it's more difficult to control? Does he have difficulty controlling other parts, like his tail? Does he feel closer to Monkie King and Macaque now that he's officially monkey?

(Bonus just for you: Thoughts Mk has about his cracks? Out of sight outta mind thing, or is it racking in his skull?)

Anyway, I must thank you again for the wonderful eye candy and heart retching au. <3

-1- Meihua is indeed MK lil sister! She get adopted by Macaque and Wukong after the attack. She lost absolutely everythings and have no one to go back to, and Macaque couldn't leave her after saving her. She's very young, so the attack traumatise her a lot, but she was too young to really understand what happened. She emotionally attached to Macaque, and call him "mama" (she tried to say his name but failed and only managed to call him like that) and she do see Wukong and MK as her family over time! Also she's very shy, if she see someone she doesn't know, she's immediately gonna hide somewhere or behind Mamacaque. There is a lot more but most of it is by @a-vacuole! Fae is the one who created the little Meihua✨ - 2- for MK: he found weird is how much being a monkey feel so normal, so natural now. As if he was supposed to be a monkey since the beginning. He slowly accept being a monkey now, but still refuse to act exactly like one (especially grooming lmao). So once in while he shapeshift into a human, because for him he's still one. Being fully a mystic monkey make his powers more stable, but it can still go bersek if he lose control over his emotions. Of course over time he will have a better control over his magic, and fully accept he's a monkey now. (which is gonna take times) And seeing Monkey king and Macaque act so differently is weird to him, but he do feel closer to them now.( also being born from the stone egg they made do connect them) And for his cracks, he just try not to think about them. And they fade pretty quickly, they are still there, but barely visible. (until he lose control again and reopen them oops) (also if you're curious you're more than welcome to join the discord server if you have more questions! we are very chill and people are nice ✨)

Thank you so much for all these questions! I'm happy you like my au✨

[takusan-no-ai]

৻ꪆ Tabibito ৻ꪆ

PAIRING: Miko/Ei/Xianyun/Ganyu x Male Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: (Y/N), companion of the traveler, is her boyfriend.

Miko already knew she’d have a field day with you. There was just so much fun in teasing you, traveler, and Paimon. But she never expected to fall in love. Though she supposed it was bound to happen. Miko was very appreciative when you and your companions helped to save her friend, Ei. She thought it would have ended there, but something about a guy fumbling as much as you did just didn’t leave her mind.

She was more than curious; falling in love with a traveler wasn’t on Miko’s to-do list. But she wanted to see it through to the end. So she confessed, and after you became her boyfriend your life became more…chilling. Miko said she would curse you if you didn’t visit her often. And she reserved an area within the shrine just for you. She acts calm, but you swear every time you visit Inazuma after a month long absence, it’s like there’s someone stalking you.

Whenever she misses you she’ll write light novels for her publishing house about you; “The Lady Miko and her one true love are the same person?!”…and she spends her time pestering Ei, scaring Gorou, and teasing Mizuki when bored…okay so she’s having fun while you’re away. But when you do return she feigns sadness, going on and on about how miserable she’s been. Yet despite joking she is being slightly truthful; Miko really loves you and would be more clingy if her pride allowed it.

And that clinginess of hers grows alongside her possessiveness. Miko has to make sure you understand the repercussions of stealing her heart. She also knows how much you stare at her tail when she lets it out in your private room. So she allows you brush it whenever you both want to cuddle under the moon. However, the cost of getting this privilege is that you must become her husband in the future. Hey, she doesn’t make the rules.

Caged off and distant, even after being rescued from herself, Ei still keeps her heart close to her chest. And although grateful to you, the traveler, and Paimon for saving Inazuma, she can’t find it in herself to be there. So with constraints she continues to live through the Raiden Shogun. But you and your perseverance saw it through in wanting Ei to experience modern Inazuma; and through that time she fell in love with you.

She was incredibly hesitant to confess, let alone accept these feelings. Back when Makoto was alive, she would encourage her sister to be more in tune with society and learn their emotions. But Ei had since buried those away. She’d never loved a man before, and one who was a traveler at that. One she tried to kill. The only correct option is to hide in the Plane of Euthymia. Eventually Yae had to push her friend to confessing.

Ei becomes very lonely when you’re not around. She visits places you’d shown her and only her around Inazuma. She meditates to try and pass the time but it always goes so slow. But once you’ve returned she’s as happy as can be; in a controlled way of course. Though she is more noticeably excitable when you’re around. It’s those moments that make her regret not being around for so many centuries because she doesn’t know how to hold a proper conversation with you.

Even the electro archon is privy to jealousy. But she hadn’t experienced one in love like this. The worst part is that she was jealous of herself; sometimes she gets too busy with meditating to slow down her erosion, and that means you occasionally spend time with the Raiden Shogun instead of Ei. Seeing her boyfriend be friendly with her puppet made her irritable. Oftentimes she thinks you’d prefer the puppet over her. Ei knows it’s nonsense, but she can’t help feeling like she’ll lose you too.

Before Xianyun decided to roam the streets of Liyue in her human form she had already grown a bit of affection for you as a crane. Your respectful attitude when she was Cloud Retainer was a nice first impression. And after seeing your shared desire and effort to protect Liyue, Xianyun began to feel something more than just a liking for you.

Xianyun was reluctant to confess her feelings for you. She didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship you both shared. And she’s spent enough time around men your age to believe her personality might be “off putting” to you. Xianyun would love to travel with you. But the thought of you rejecting her made her too prideful to confess. Yet the thought of you loving someone else brought out her competitive spirit; so she confessed.

As you’re out exploring new sights Xianyun is home awaiting your return. And because she gets lonely missing you, Xianyun turns to her inventions to keep her busy. She even tries creating new fun mechanisms to her mountain in hopes it’ll quell your adventurous spirit and keep you in Liyue for at least a month…or eighty. And when you do return she’ll talk your ears of about everything you’ve missed.

Xianyun has a habit of being overly nurturing and caring like a mother; Ganyu and Shenhe get to experience the extreme versions of those traits. So when it comes to her man she tends to pamper you more than necessary. But she doesn’t expect to receive it back. And when she does, well, Xianyun can’t quite handle it. Suddenly she’s slightly flustered, a small scowl plastered on her face as she squawks about how inappropriate this public display of affection is.

Ganyu is a simple young maiden: she fell in love with you because you were nice and helped her up when she tripped over a rock. Your friendliness, alongside Paimon and travelers, helped make her not feel like an outcast. At first Ganyu thought she simply liked your company, then you invited her out for a vegetarian dinner, and suddenly Ganyu is anticipating it and is flooded with the knowledge that she has never gone on a date with a man before.

She is far too shy to confess. Ganyu would rather watch you from afar than make that uncomfortable first step. But Xianyun wasn’t having any of it! After recounting one too many embarrassing childhood stories to you as a push, Ganyu finally got the courage to say it. She was very flustered throughout it, but Ganyu put every piece of heart into the most sincere, modest, loving confession she could. She nearly died of happiness when you said yes.

On days where she’s missing you Ganyu will drown herself in her work. It doesn’t help that she’ll forget what she was doing while thinking of you. Many nights are spent fixing up mistakes that appear in her workload. And once you’ve returned the overworked adeptus seeks to cuddle you in her sleepy state.

Ganyu lets very few people touch her horns. They’re sensitive and she is immensely protective of them. As her boyfriend, Ganyu becomes more comfortable around you. And she wants to feel safe and capable of being vulnerable around you. So on those quiet days where neither of you are going anywhere, Ganyu would sit down next to you, and with a small blush, she would snuggle close as you gingerly caress her horns.

- Fin

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

You've talked a few times about Miraculous' wacky and harmful morals, so what do you personally think are some of the worst offenders?

I think, personally, it's gotta be this idea of persistence always being right. That you should never give up on anything. Marinette should always keep pursuing Adrien even when it continually embarrasses her, leads her into doing some questionable things, and if she tries to change course to Luka or Chat Noir obviously she's hiding from her true feelings. Chat Noir should continue to flirt with and ask out Ladybug even after multiple firm rejections, because they're obviously meant to be and she might grow to love him. Gabriel committing acts of terror and brutally assaulting teenagers in the name of a wish to bring his wife back is totally justified (remember, he died a "hero".), and he's in fact rewarded with power for not giving up on resurrecting her.

Maybe this wouldn't feel as... icky, as it does, in a better written show, "follow your dreams" and "stay determined" are pretty common messages, but... it's okay to decide that you don't want something anymore. That even if you put a lot of time and effort and investment into it, it's not for you, and that's not a failure, it's healthy. *Especially* in the context of romance, when someone isn't interested and actively tells you, or you're engaging in self destructive behavior for another's sake, it's alright to step back, stop, and wash your hands of it. When something isn't working, you don't have to keep trying.

I don't think this rant is about miraculous. Not really. But I think everything I said is still applicable.

For individual episodes, I'd say Qilin is probably the worst from a general society perspective as it completely failed to tell a racism = bad message. As I said in the linked post, I've had people tell me that this episode wasn't about race which shows just how badly the writers did. I actually thought I might have been wrong to assume it was about racism because I'm American and the writers are French so maybe this was a cultural bias thing? Turns out, no, it was supposed to be about racism they just totally failed to do it in a clear manner.

For overall themes, I'd say the abuse apologia is probably the worst from a general society perspective as it can be incredibly difficult to identify emotional abuse in your own life. Little Adriens and little Chloes who are watching this show should have been told that their parents were in the wrong. Instead, the show invalidated their reality which can lead to actual harm and that's far more concerning than the bad perseverance lessons because the perseverance lessons are so muddled that I'm not sure how clear they are.

That's not to say that the perseverance lessons aren't concerning. The writers have these characters stay focused on things that are genuinely bad for their health. A fact the show seems oblivious to even though "pick your battles" is a wonderful lesson for audience members of all ages. Makes me think of a quote I've seen tossed around before:

Every dead body on Mt. Everest was once a highly motivated person so maybe calm down a bit?

[reader-writes]

Title: “No Fuckin’ Self-Control”

Warnings: Public sex, semi-rough sex, dirty talk, swearing, established relationship, humour, fingering, safe sex, P in V.

It started when you boarded the train.

That damn skirt. That ribbon in your hair. That look you gave him when you bent over to pick up your bag—just long enough to make sure he saw what you weren’t wearing underneath.

He should’ve known then.

But it was the whisper in his ear—“I’m bored. Fix it.”—that really did it.

Now, he’s got you pressed against the train’s bathroom door, and he can’t even remember what mission Lemon was rambling about.

His hands are all over you, tugging your clothes aside like they offended him. One hand cups the back of your neck, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing it around his hip until your body opens for him just the way he likes.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ shame,” he growls, voice low and rough in your ear. “Not even tryin’ to act innocent anymore.”

You smile like sin. “Maybe I want to be caught.”

That gets a low groan out of him. “You’re gonna get caught, sweetheart, if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”

But he knows you won’t.

The first moan slips out the moment his fingers slide between your thighs, and it’s a pretty sound—soft, breathy, made for him. It hits his brain like a shot of adrenaline.

“Fuck,” he mutters, already hard and aching. “Knew it. Knew you were soaked for me.”

You nod, blinking up at him with glossy eyes like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be fingered in a train loo while your boyfriend stares at you like a man possessed.

He lets you grind on his hand for a bit—because he likes watching you fall apart—but it’s not enough. Not for you. Not for him.

“Turn around,” he orders, already undoing his belt. “Hands on the sink.”

You obey without a word, and he barely manages to get a condom on before he’s sliding into you—slow just to hear you gasp. Your knuckles go white gripping the sink.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he hisses. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

You try to stifle your moans, but they slip out anyway. Louder with every thrust. Lewder.

And god help him, it feeds him.

He fucks you like he means it—deep, relentless, biting back his own groans as you whimper his name like you’re the one in control of this whole situation.

You start getting loud again. Really loud.

Tangerine clamps a hand over your mouth before the other passengers start thinking someone’s being murdered in here.

“Be quiet,” he hisses, voice wrecked. “You want Lemon hearin’ you get ruined?”

You moan into his palm like you do. Like you want the whole fuckin’ train to know exactly what he’s doing to you.

A knock rattles the door.

“Someone’s in here!” Tangerine snaps, still thrusting.

Another voice—familiar and unimpressed: “Bruv. Seriously?”

It’s Lemon.

Of course it’s fuckin’ Lemon.

Tangerine ignores him. He’s too close. You’re getting too tight, your hips jerking, your breath getting ragged behind his hand.

“Gonna come for me?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Gonna make a mess all over my cock like a good girl?”

You nod frantically. He can feel it—your whole body clenched around him, trying to hold back the scream. And then it hits you. You come with a strangled moan, thighs shaking, hips twitching, and he’s not far behind.

He buries himself deep and follows you over the edge, one hand in your hair, the other bracing against the wall.

When the fog clears, he’s still inside you, breathing hard against the back of your neck.

You finally speak—breathless, giddy: “I told you I was bored.”

He pulls out with a groan, tucks himself back in, leans over to kiss the sweat from your spine.

“You’re bloody insatiable,” he mutters.

Another knock.

“You two done defiling the fuckin’ lavatory?” Lemon’s voice again. “Or should I call a priest?”

You burst out laughing. Tangerine glares at the door like he could kill it.

“I swear, next mission, I’m fakin’ my own death.”

[mortalscience]

criminal minds 18x04 thoughts behind cut (SPOILERS)

GARVEZ CRUMBS: Luke lovingly chiding Penelope for spending too long staring into JJ's eyes and then chuckling at her when he ushered her back. I'LL TAKE THE CRUMBS I'LL TAKE THEM EVERY TIME.

the bits between Penelope and JJ are probably my faaaaavorite parts of this episode!! Penelope hugging her and not wanting to leave her side and having a heart to heart and more hugging and JJ calling Penelope her best friend and Penelope being all "I know" I'M SOBBINGGGGGGGGGG!! I love them so much!!

and to go along with that, a classic JJ and Penelope working together in Pen's lair scene <3 love when they do that!

we got some explanations for stuff in this episode. BAU-gate was shut down, and the reason JJ is back at work is because she found that video and now she's obsessively going after Voit. Which, I'm loving this for JJ's arc. She's angry and grieving and now she will (unhealthily) channel that into taking Voit down. GET HIM, QUEEN. "You're stuck with me you piece of shit." JJ!! I wish for peace for JJ but she is not the type of person to opt for peace.. lbr, none of the BAU are, hahaha.

the unsub of the week had some classic elements that should hopefully appease everyone who wanted the OG CM episode style back? Penelope presenting the case and wheels up and jet scenes and the most CLASSIC element, a standoff with the unsub while they threaten a victim hahaha.

Voit's finally remembering who he is. And it's not going well for him. I think we will see him struggling with accepting his serial killer history and the guilt he will be feeling about it. I am one of the few who likes Voit and his whole storyline so I am enjoying this. I loved the creepy dreams he was having as his brain tried to make sense of the surfacing memories. He knows he has a connection with Rossi, and first it was familiar and fatherly and now it's taken on a sinister tone because he is starting to remember they are Bitter Enemies.

I really like how Voit was acting a little more Voit-like this episode, as his memories start to sleep back in. The childlike attitude is fading away and his smarminess is coming back.

me, a Phoenician, who hates Tucson: yeah I'm not surprised there's a serial killer there. lmaooo.

yet another page taken from the Luke Alvez Playbook when Tyler moved the phone closer to his mouth to say 'please' while talking to Penelope. It's GOTTA be on purpose.. cause damn. Luke did it better tho. lol.

I was amused at the subtle way they showed how weird it was for Tyler to be out in the field when Penelope was surprised by him calling for info, hahaha.

welcome to the team Tyler, here's your first person to die in your arms that you couldn't save. that's ✨ BAU trauma 101 ✨, more advanced courses to come

loooooved the Emily & Tyler bits, I'm so excited because I wanted more scenes between them. she's taken him under her winggggg, teach him to fly, Emily! I have always felt they had a particular connection. "I've been where you are. Wondering if I'd earned my spot on this team." Oh Emily. <3 And her speech about loss, and being able to live with what you've lost.. crying. ;_; Everyone on the team has lost so much. The cruel sacrifice that they all must make.

Ohhh I loved this episode! Can't wait to see how JJ unravels further in her quest to destroy Voit and the internal battle that Voit goes through over remembering what he is.

[dqllgarden]

i know your wife and she wouldn’t mind

owen taylor x reader

warnings: age gap, daddy kink, rough sex, sadism, dubcon, dacryphillia, blasphemy, reader self insert lowkey, no aftercare (i got lazy), dead dove, don’t like don’t read

—

The worst part is the age gap isn’t the most taboo thing between you two- it’s your lack of purity before marriage and Owen’s infidelity. Everybody in the church knows one of the worst sins that could be committed is having sex before marriage, regardless of age.

It was just past midnight and you opened the door to Owen’s car before hopping in with a giggle. He started to drive off in the opposite direction of where you typically went: deep into the woods where nobody would spot them. It was a nice spot by a big lake, open enough that you didn’t feel as claustrophobic as you did in your religion.

“Where are we going?” You looked over at him, confused as you placed your hand on his thigh. You were still new to all of this, having just lost your virginity to a very experienced man you almost felt embarrassed trying to make any moves on him. It didn’t feel right, yet nothing felt right. Always worried God was going to punish you.

“You’ll see little one,” Owen pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he smiled over at you.

You very quickly recognized where they were as he pulled into the parking lot of the church. You were as confused as ever. You had a routine, every other night you would meet him and then would go to the woods and have sex and would go sit by the lake and daydream about running away together.

This was different. You didn’t like it.

“You ready?”

“What are we doing here?” You asked, getting out of the car and running to catch up with him as he unlocked the doors to the church.

“I want to try something new, you trust me right?”

“Of course,” you said looking down at her feet and walking through the doors.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold, “let’s put that to the test then, my little lamb.”

“I-I don’t know about this”

“Relax. It’s just while I lead you somewhere.”

“Okay fine,” you turned so he could place the blindfold on you and grabbed your hand to start walking you to the Sanctuary and bending you over the altar. He took off the blindfold and ran his hands through your hair. Through shaky breaths he whispered about how adorable you are.

You grinned and grabbed his hand and led it to your pants before he moved away and grabbed your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach and leaning against the altar.

“Wait I forgot-“ you turned your head to face him as you took off your purity ring and handed it to him to put in his pocket.

“Smart girl. Don’t need to be disappointing God anymore than you will be. Although tonight, I am your God. You will worship only me, you understand that little one?”

“Y-yes God, I worship you only.”

He grinned, knowing you were both going to hell for this but that would never stop you. You’d both pray and act like it never happened.

Before you could speak again his hand came up and hit you. “Now turn the fuck back around.” he scolded as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and slammed your head into the altar. Tears started to pool in your eyes. He’d never been rough with you before.

Growing up religious in Kentucky meant that you thought of sex as an exchange of love, not something to be taken and harsh with. You didn’t understand why he was doing this.

“W-why are you hurting me?” You choked out between sobs before he grabbed your throat and ripped your skirt down.

“Because it feels good for me baby, don’t you want that?”

“But I thought-“ Another slap.

You were crying more now and he only smiled even harder.

He pulled his cock out and rammed into you, harder than he ever has before. “Fuck you feel so good for daddy”

Daddy? What? You had never been more confused before. You tried to squirm away but he grabbed your hair and smashed your head into the altar again. “Stay fucking still.”

You didn’t understand why but you kind of liked this. You liked being roughed around with. You figured you’d try and play into it.

“Daddy I can’t take this it’s too much-“

“Say it again.”

“Daddy?”

“God forgive me for what I’m doing.” He looked up hopelessly before fucking you even harder. He pulled out and flipped you around. He loved looking at you. How innocent, how pure, how beautiful you looked. He needed to ruin you.

He slows down and strokes your face and presses kisses all over your face before grabbing both of your hands and holding them tightly in a praying position.

“Pray for forgiveness.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Pray to daddy and God for forgiveness for being such a dirty little girl.”

Stuttering and still in tears, you began to pray. “Father God, please forgive me for my sins. Everything this man is doing-“ Another slap. “Everything I am letting this man do to my pure body…”

“Keep going little one”

“… and the things I think about him. I am unholy and impure and I ask for your forgiveness.”

“That’s my good girl.”

He let go of your hands and continued his pace as he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“Daddy stop!” You clawed at his arm making him grip you harder.

“Almost there baby, almost there.”

He fucked into you as he came, body becoming weak and collapsing onto you.

“Did I do good daddy?”

Out of breath he released his grip on your throat and moved to your hair, “yes my little lamb, yes you did.”