౨ৎ🐈⬛ warnings ⋆.ೃ࿔ : 18+, perversions, scent thingy going on bc ofc, it's honestly not very explicit just suggestive, oh there is a short fingering mention m.receiving
Six months into being his roommate, you still can’t pinpoint exactly what about Jo bothers you.
It’s just kind of annoying, how perfect he seems. He does everything in an organized manner, and doesn’t get upset when you upset said manner. When you put silverware in the draw haphazardly, you come back to the kitchen a few hours later and find them neatly stacked. You could have a full load of clean laundry on the couch, and you’ll later find the clothing neatly folded and stacked on your bed. He doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t request acknowledgement for picking up behind you. It’s sweet, and it shouldn’t bother you. Still, it does, and quickly begins taking a different shape.
You find yourself watching him constantly, fascinated by the way he does things. It’s nothing special, but just watching the way he moves almost silently through the apartment is interesting. You do it unconsciously, and when he catches you staring, he only gives you a small smile, or a nod in acknowledgement.
There’s something so distinctly innocent in his eyes. You can’t help but look at his sweet, content face and imagine it in a more lewd setting. Those soft, marble-like features scrunched up from pleasure or pain. He can’t let anything remain messy, and it only makes you want to see him messy more, covered in his own drool and cum. Would his eyes still carry that sweet, innocent twinkle? How innocent is he, really? How many kinks has he explored? There’s so many you want to try on him. You’d love to jerk him off and finger his own cum back into him, or test how long he can stand ice on his body until it starts melting into his flushed skin.
He doesn’t talk much, but if you had him like that, shaking and trembling, would he babble, or beg, or talk himself in desperate circles as he chased your touch?
What if he’s secretly disgusting and just really good at hiding it?
The curiosity gnaws at you as the weeks pass by. Your imagination builds and builds, perversions fueling each other until it starts to become concerning. You spend most of your shift spacing out, imagining Jo in different situations, bent over your desk, tied to your chair. You see Jo as a doctor in the clinic you go to, pretty skin in blue scrubs, as the businessman you see getting out of a taxi, with slicked-back hair and rimless, gunmetal glasses, as a barista at your favorite coffee shop, charming and polite as he calls out your name. All the roles he could take, all the cheap porn-like scenarios you could back him into.
They’re just fantasies. You tell yourself it’s not a big deal. You can’t control your thoughts. It’s fine, as long as you don’t act on it. Jo is objectively attractive, and kind, and within close proximity. He’s tall and gentle, soft-spoken, smells like pine and rain and something subtly minty. The point is —
It’s understandable that you would be attracted to him. You're a sexually active young adult, and fantasies are just fantasies, for those merciful moments where life allows you to zone out for a few minutes. They don't hurt anyone.
Until they kind of start to. It gets worse and worse as time passes. You stare as Jo bends over, and for the second he's in the dryer, getting something out of it, you imagine him stuck inside it, muffled voice echoing against the metal as he calls for your help. Jo reaches above you to grab a bowl from the cabinet, and you take a deep breath to stave off the threatening shiver up your spine, the fabric of his T-shirt brushing your skin. Jo smiles at you, or says your name, or brushes against you when he walks past, and you dream about it.
You literally dream about it. That smile, but maybe a little breathless, maybe a little exhausted. Your name, but panted or whined, his touch on you, searching for your hold as he loses himself to the way you pleasure him. You dream about it, and you wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat and wet between the thighs, and after spending the rest of the night tossing and turning and not touching yourself, he's the first thing you see the next morning, just as handsome, just as kind, just as infuriating. It's exhausting, and when he comments on how tired you seem, you can't even look at him as you tell him some bullshit excuse.
You know he'd make the perfect boyfriend. So attentive and giving, so easy to let your guard down with. You haven't been friends for long, but he's been so great so far, supportive of your job and nice to your friends. You could sleep in his bed surrounded by his cologne, could wear his hoodies like dresses when you lounge around the house.
You can't help but be a little delusional, and one day, when he leaves to hang out with his friend, Yuma, you find yourself stopping in the hallway, right in front of his ajar bedroom door. Maybe your hand slips, maybe the AC just blew the door further open. Aside from displayed artwork and Lego builds, Jo’s bedroom is mostly muted shades – grey, black, white. There’s pops of soft purple and blues in some corners, and it smells like him everywhere. He’s got the world’s softest blanket resting along the foot of his bed, and his mattress creaks a little as you slowly kneel onto it. You don’t even know what you’re doing, why you’re here, but you can’t stop yourself from crawling further up, and burying your face in his pillows. His cucumber shampoo is so strong here, and you can’t stop the quiet, desperate sound that leaves your lips as you sink into the bedsheets. You imagine him here with you, next to you, touching you, you touching him, and the thoughts have you wetting your underwear.
You try your best to make the bed again correctly. You tell yourself it was a lapse of judgment, maybe you’re just touched-starved. But on your way out, something blue catches your eye, a dark, midnight blue that just barely contrasts the rest of the room’s color palette. But you see it, and it feels a little like it’s teasing you, hanging from his laundry basket. It hasn’t been washed yet, which means it’s absolutely ridden with Jo’s cologne. Before you know it, you approach it, and the fabric is soft when you wrap your hand around it. You snatch it, and leave his room before you do any more weirdo shit, or worse, he comes home and catches you.
You can only wear the hoodie in your room, with the door locked. At first, you only wear it when he’s not home. Then, you start wearing it to sleep, as well, and sometimes, when you can hear him playing games with his friends on the other side of your bedroom walls, his voice all smooth chocolate and thick syrup.
One day, when you’re sitting on the couch, he comes to you.
“Hey, Y/N,” he says, kindly. “Have you seen my Champion hoodie? The blue one?”
He gives a few more details about it to jog your memory, but you barely listen as the blood rushes to your ears, the image of that exact hoodie clear in your mind, where it’s folded neatly under your pillow.
“No,” you say, holding his gaze while you shake your head. “I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Jo makes this unsuprised face. “I figured. Just thought I’d ask. It’s so weird; I always put it in the same place, but I still misplaced it, somehow.”
You nod sympathetically. Your throat feels so, so thick, and it takes an effort almost too big to keep your voice even. “That is weird. Maybe you leant it to Yuma?”
He considers your words genuinely, and you almost feel guilty.
“You’re so smart,” he says, and it feels so ridiculous, the way you preen under a compliment you don’t deserve.
You exhale slowly when he leaves, and tell yourself you’ll put the hoodie in the laundry room tonight, or maybe you’ll return it to his room the next time he leaves, or maybe after the scent fades. You tell yourself it’s fine. This infatuation is normal. You promise.
They lay tangled beneath the blankets, warm and drowsy in each other’s arms, the quiet of the room held together by the gentle rise and fall of their breaths. She lifted her head from his chest, brushing her cheek against his skin, and murmured softly,
“We should go on a vacation.”
A smile curved his lips before his eyes even opened. He hummed, low and pleased.
“And where would you like me to take you, my sweet?”
Her answer didn’t come. Instead, she tucked her face into the crook of his arm, letting the heat of him hide the sudden shyness blooming across her cheeks.
He laughed quietly—more a breath than a sound—and leaned in, voice velvet and coaxing.
“Tell me, my sweet.”
“I… I want to go to the grassland.”
He tilted his head, surprised. “The grassland? We only ended up there by accident.”
“I know,” she mumbled against his skin. “But… I miss it.”
He waited, curious, his hand moving slowly up and down her back.
“And why the grassland all of a sudden?”
She exhaled, her breath warm against him, her voice a soft confession.
“When we were in the tent… I kept wanting to kiss you. You were so close, and so—” she hesitated, cheeks burning hotter “—so tempting. It took everything in me not to take your face and kiss you then. And now I regret it. Even though we’ve kissed a hundred times since, I still think about that moment. About what could’ve happened. I blame myself for not doing it—for not claiming you as mine as loudly as I should have…”
Her voice faded, suddenly unsure, afraid she’d stepped too far.
But he only listened, steady and serene, and when she finally looked up, his gaze was full of warmth.
“My dear,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over her cheek, “you did claim me. You did it as boldly as your heart allowed then. You sat in my lap and held me like I belonged to you. You gave me your pouch. You searched for me whenever I disappeared. You showed everyone exactly whose lover I was—and still am.”
Her eyes softened, full of a love that made her chest ache. She smiled, small and glowing, before lifting herself to press a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Still,” she whispered, her mouth a breath away from his, “it would’ve been nice to kiss you then too.”
His answering smile was slow and tender.
So he kissed her—once, twice—just to make up for every moment they ever missed.
I may never write this but the aesthetics really got to me. I’m thinking mermaid!Katniss trades her voice to Snow (to save Prim in some way?) who is either an evil octopus or an evil giant snow crab. Crab!Haymitch is tasked with looking after her while she’s on land but he’d rather not and it’s not going super well. Seagull!Effie is also there contributing very little beyond comic relief. Then of course Prince!Peeta helps her but he’s still haunted by the voice of the girl who saved him from drowning long ago…. And don’t get me started on the parallels between Eric’s brain washing at the end and Peeta being hijacked. A pearl is probably involved. It’s silly but I like it. Anyway have some art
Kevin became human the moment he asked Jean to teach him French. In a Raven!Neil AU that doesn't change.
Kevin is scared of Nathaniel, he keeps his mask up, avoiding him whenever it's possible if the conversation isn't exy related. It's the beginning, Nathaniel is an uncontrollable force of nature that won't doubt if given the opportunity to make Riko and the master mad. Kevin does not want to be around that.
He supposes Nathaniel's attitude will wear off over time, watching as every punishment slightly gets Nate's head lower and lower but never for long.
Nathaniel isn't completely tamed when Jean joins the Ravens. They are placed as partners but refuse to accept it. Nathaniel argues Jean only slows them down while Jean couldn't care less about exy. Nathaniel is the only other Raven that speaks French other than Jean (his partner), and yet, he refuses to talk to him. Refuses to translate, refuses to protect him, refuses to accept this is a permanent fix.
After two weeks of merciless punishment for both of them, suddenly Nathaniel starts accepting Jean. They go from total silence and avoiding the other to being joined by the hip overnight. Kevin doesn't know what changed but it couldn't have been the punishments, not with Nathaniel.
It's Jean who finally gets Nate tamed. The consequences for Nathaniel's behaviour issues are paid by both of them so Nate learns to keep his mouth mostly shut at last.
Mostly because he continues to make Riko mad as long as he knows he'll be the only one to pay the price. It's a risk every time but Nathaniel walks in that thin line like a cat on a roof. This means Neil often provides Kevin and Jean a break from Riko while he pisses him off.
Jean is the first one that's able to see through Kevin's mask during those breaks. They are still each others relatively safe space. Kevin still asks Jean to teach him French even if Nate knows it too. Jean still teaches him.
It's Jean who tells Nate what he sees, who explains that Kevin Day (the guy able to calmly talk about exy while his brother cuts into your skin until you can't scream anymore) isn't cold or cruel.
Nathaniel doesn't believe him at first, but over time Jean continues to tear apart Kevin's mask piece by piece until Kevin can't hide behind his character around Jean (an there for Nathaniel) anymore.
Nate keeps proving himself wrong about many things he assumes about Kevin over the years. Jean lets him get it wrong some times, but if he says otherwise, Nate immediately changes his view and accepts Jean's words as absolute truth.
Characters: Kafka | Black Swan | Acheron | Firefly | Robin | Himeko
Warnings: None, SFW.
Kafka is always hot. In every sense of the word.
Even in the heart of winter, she is a source of endless heat when you join her on the couch after missions. With her mauve hair loose, she is the personification of temptation as she languidly motions for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, her fingers slide like liquid over your nape, pull you flush against her, with your head resting on either her shoulder or her generous chest.
She loves to talk low in your ear while she holds you like this, fingernails gently scratching at the base of your neck. Sometimes, she shares details about her missions. If she’s in a naughtier mood, however, expect the kinkiest things to fill your ears, until you’re blazing red.
Black Swan feels like a cool spring. A calm oasis for you to rest in, for however long you wish.
All you have to do is speak her name into the aether, and she will come to you, as soon as she is able. Be it after nightmares or long days, you always smile when you feel your bed dip with a familiar weight. Her graceful arms encircle your neck, guiding you onto her chest. If you’ve closed your eyes, overcome by the bliss, before you see her amused smile, then you will feel it on your skin when she kisses you.
Hugging her is heavenly. Like you’re enveloped in a cloud. Soft, fresh, plush in all the right places. And as soon as she asks you how her ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ is faring, if you missed her, that is when you utterly melt.
Acheron is steady and so very safe.
It’s like nothing in the world can touch you while you’re with her. She’s not one to initiate long embraces first, hesitant due to her powers, but if the two of you are alone she will often cast you a longing look that speaks volumes of how badly she wants to be close to you. One she hopes you don’t catch, even though you always do.
When she hugs you, her strong arms wrap around you like you are the most precious thing in the world. She likes to tuck her chin onto your shoulder, sometimes turn into your neck, breathing you in. Her body is firm from years of combat, but her skin is so soft to the touch. The corner of her lip always tugs upwards in amusement when you caress her abs (which is every chance you get).
Firefly is an absolute sweetheart.
Do you want to hold her? She will stop whatever she is doing and immediately come over to you. More often than not, she ends up curled into your lap with her arms around your shoulders. Adores nuzzling into your neck and pressing her cheek against yours like a little kitten. If you kiss her jaw or temple, she will melt in your arms.
Very sensitive. If your lips caress her neck, best believe she will make a sound and immediately turn tomato-red. No matter how long you’ve been together, flirting in this position will result in her cheeks growing hot. Which only makes you want to tease her that much more.
Robin is always a delight to hug. Cosy and sweet and soft.
She absolutely flushes at the smallest hint of PDA if other people are around, but she will not deny you ever. Behind closed doors is a different story though. The girl will come over to you and wrap her arms around you from behind, silently asking to be held because she’s often too shy to say it. If you toy with her hair, massage her back or nuzzle into her wings, she will shiver against you.
Likes to trace small shapes on your skin with her fingertips when you’re cuddling. Will die inside and go to heaven if you do it to her first. If you simply lay together, relaxing, she may start humming a tune by your ear in her angelic voice. A privilege reserved for her one and only <3
Himeko is soothing in every way. The way she smells, the way she touches you, the way she makes you feel.
She is gentle like the warmth of a fireplace after a long trudge through snow and she never gets tired of holding you. You don’t even have to ask. One look and she will know to come over and embrace you. If other members of your team are around, she establishes small points of contact, like an arm around your waist or a hand at the small of your back. Until you are alone, where she will fully guide you into her arms.
Loves to gently massage your back or run her thumb in small circles between your shoulderblades. Always exhales a soft chuckle if you kiss her collarbone and tell her how good she feels. You are so comfortable when you sleep against her perfect body that you have trouble sleeping without. Not that she minds this one bit.
Series: Bonded by Tragedy
Fandom: stranger things s3
Ship: Max & Billy
The Sauna Test
“I don’t know,” Dustin shrugs, looking disinterestedly at the blonde in the lifeguard stand. “He looks pretty normal to me.”
“Normal,” Max scoffs, “How many times have you seen him wear an actual shirt this summer?”
She was right. Of course, she was right, but Steve refused to believe it. For even a moment. Because that means so many bad things, for everyone. It cant be Billy, it just can't be.
“He’s probably just like, sick or something,” Dustin doubles down, “There’s probably a flu going around.”
Steve sighs and drops the radio, lifting his binoculars to look at Billy again. He didn't know it, but he and Max were having the same thought. Please God, don’t let it be you.
Hawkins Sauna
Five minutes ago, trapping Billy and the mindflayer in the sauna seemed like the best idea. But now, as she watches Billy crumble to the ground, wrap his arms around himself and sob, she’s not sure.
“It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault, Max, please! Please, please believe me!”
She's at the glass, calling her brother's name.
“Please, Max,” he sobs again, steepling his hands. “You have to believe me!!”
Her stomach twists uncomfortably. It's not the first time he's begged like this.
The memory hurts to revisit, but that's what the creature wants, to make them suffer. The step-siblings are thrust headfirst into the painful memory anyway.
The night of the first time Neil catches Max with Lucas.
Instead of approaching her directly, he takes his fury out on her room. The damage was extensive. Hundreds of dollars' worth of items in need of immediate replacement and precious memories were destroyed beyond repair. It wasn't a punishment. It was sadistic cruelty.
When she returns, Neil puts the blame on Billy. Given their strained relationship, it's almost too easy for her to believe it.
When Billy gets home, Max screams at him. Threatens him. Hits him.
She remembers now how scared he looked. She had thought at the time, it was because he got caught, but now, she’s not so sure.
Afterward, Neil beat him for it. Hard and in full view of Max.
She remembers every horrible moment after. How Billy didn't look at her for weeks. How things that got destroyed in Billy’s supposed rage mysteriously got replaced at an interval that suggested it could be neither of her parents. How he never said another bad word towards her. Or really anything at all after that. How it took months for Billy to stop physically flinching around her.
How she came to find out the truth one night, catching up with Steve. She unintentionally learned the truth of where Billy had been when her room was trashed.
Billy had been innocent the whole time. He was framed by Neil. Neil who knew she would believe him, because he knew she hated Billy. Neil, who hurt him anyway. And smiled when he did it.
She was sick for days after she learned that. How stupid she had been. How she had believed Neil without a second thought. Even after Billy begged her to believe him. She said no. She vowed after that moment of clarity to have Billy's back. No matter what.
“Talk to me Billy,” she directs, bringing his head up from the ground. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve done things. B-Bad things, Max. But it wasn’t me! It wasn’t me… he- he made me.”
“Who made you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he pants, tears painting every word. “It's like a shadow. I can never quite see it, but I can feel it. I can hear it. It made me crash my car. I-I think, I think I hurt Heather, and Mrs. Wheeler, I can’t remember.”
“You hurt my mom!?” Mike screams from behind her.
“Please, Max,” Billy sobs, looking smaller than a child curled up on the floor of the sauna. “Please, please, believe me.”
It hurts so bad to see him like this. So fucking terrified. Her fear mutes her volume, but she promises to her brother,
“I believe you Billy.”
---
Billy’s eyes close in desperate gratitude, and that's the last thought he has conscious control over. The monster is moving his body, mimicking his voice with an eerie similarity it's never mastered before. Begging her to open the door. Come closer, child. Dont be afraid.
“Guys, help me open the door,” Max says. Unbeknownst to Billy’s sudden, subtle personality change.
“No! S-Stay there,” he begs hoarsely, but the monster wraps its claws around his vocal cords.
“It’s going to be ok, Billy, I promise,” Max says from the window, “we just have to get it out of you.”
“Please let me out! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he hears himself say, but he wasn't responsible for it. Billy’s eyes fill with more tears, and he pulls himself further onto the ground, gripping the wooden bench as tight as he can. Skin splits and blood runs down his fingernails but he will heal. The monster will make sure of that.
‘Max! Stay back! He’s here, it's not me,’ he tries to shout, but they don’t make it off his tongue.
---
Max reaches for the metal pipe holding the door closed and starts to pull. She has to get Billy out. She can’t abandon him in there!
Will grips Mike’s hand hard, his face pale and scared.
“I-I can feel him. H-He’s activated.”
Mike’s eyes snap to Max, who is just about to unknowingly free the mindflayer.
“MAX! Get away from the door!”
“What?”
“MAX MOVE!” he shouts, grabbing her jacket and yanking her back just in time. The glass shatters, and she screams. Billy’s possessed arm swings out violently, searching for the redhead.
“You BITCH! LET ME OUT! I’LL FUCKING GUT YOU!”
“GO GO GO WE GOTTA GO,” Dustin shouts, already halfway into the hallway.
“No! We can't leave him here!” Max shrieks.
“Max! Please! Don't leave me!” The monster lies while Billy screams in opposition.
idk when this will get posted on ao3 so enjoy it today! coffee & tips always appreciated, Don't Forget To Feed Your Local Authors Comments
