#have i done enough to get into my preferred course? no fucking clue

[buglaur]

answered asks below 💞

THANK YOU GUYS 💞💞💞💞💞 it really means a lot 🥺 @deehya @pxeltownie @leafbatraccoon

AWH thank you!!!! you're literally so sweet. i'm so happy you like my gameplay!! i might try and get some new cc out soon too, i was working on a new pair of earrings before i started my exams. you made my day with this seriously thank you 🥺🙏

right?? i feel like a bit of a fraudster tagging all the posts with tjol, because he's literally not doing ANY of the things he's supposed to. i honestly might abandon the tjol efforts and just play with him regularly 😭 so glad you've loving him though!! i love him too no matter how much grief he causes me 😭

@rainymoodlet i've been hoarding your asks like little good luck charms in my inbox for so longgg 😭😭 and i've read your tags on my post and I MISS YOU TOOOOO i can't wait to be back around here on the daily. so glad to be almost done, when i am i'm going on a huge rainymoodlet.tumblr.com binge 💞💞💞 seriously thank you for checking up on me!!! ilysmmm

[lynnlovesspidahman]

happy birthday.

peter parker x reader

masterlist.

warnings : none :))

word count : 1.2k

summary : peter’s not easy to shop for, so you settle for a gift money cant buy. happy birthday peter parker 😏

again, i just love ps4 peter so he was in mind while writing this. but you can imagine any of them!!

Peter’s birthday was in 3 days.

You’ve been dating for a little over 5 months, now. You wanted him to feel special for his birthday, considering everything he’s done for you over the course of your relationship.

But he’s such a hard person to shop for. You’ve been wandering around Target for what feels like ages now.

At first, new cologne seemed like a good idea. But, you already prefer the one he already uses (and you have no clue which one that is, you can’t exactly just ask him now).

The next best was new clothes. And they did have nice pairs of the flannel shirts he always seems to wear (He looked delicious every time, you couldn’t argue with that). You looked through the hangers, picked out the best looking ones, and threw them into your cart.

So now you have is a few shirts, cool. But still not enough. So you ran through a couple of gifts you thought he would appreciate. Scratch that, he has to love it, not just appreciate it.

Flowers? No, he can’t take care of them properly.

Skin care? No, he’s told you before he can’t be bothered, he literally uses just water. And yet his skin remains clear.

Shower stuff? Might give the wrong message.

Candy? Too basic.

New furniture for his ever so bland apartment? Too much money.

Gift card to his favorite restaurant? That could work, but it probably would end up being used immediately. By you.

Nothing seemed to work for him. You paid for the three shirts you picked out and left.

You were walking down the street, still trying to think of something to get him.

Your phone rang in your pocket. You put the plastic bag in your left hand as you reached for your phone with your right.

You smiled, admiring Peter’s contact photo as it lit up your screen, he was calling you. The photo was from a date 2 months ago.

He took you on a walk through Central Park, which was beautiful during the summertime.

The trees were beautifully green, and the weather was perfectly warm. He wore a black cap that day, which he rarely did.

As you two sat on a bench together, his arm sat behind you on the back of the bench. You couldn’t stop looking over at him as he spoke to you. Needless to say, he was very easy on the eyes that day. You took your phone out to take a photo. You raised it to your side to capture you both, and as soon as he realized you were taking a photo, he gave a thumbs-up and gave a little smirk smile to the camera. That picture has been your favorite of you two since then.

In that moment, you realized you were so in love with him. But you didn’t tell him. It still felt too early. And you weren’t exactly confident in the I-love-you-return. So you kept it to yourself, to this day.

Before it could go to voicemail from you accidentally staring at his contact photo, you answered his call.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Peter,” You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much.

“Whatcha up to?”

“Nothing, just finished shopping at Target, I was bored.”

“Oh, okay. Are you busy?”

You checked the time, 2:43 PM.

“No, why?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place, for a bit.”

“Duh. I just gotta head back home and do get my stuff.”

“Okay! Just tell me when you’re on your way.”

“I will, See ya later, L-“ It was a habit for you to say that when ending a call and you almost did to Peter. Good catch, Y/N.

“See ya.”

You hung up the call, letting out the breath you were holding during the last second of the call. You almost fucked up, bad.

But would it have been so bad?

Peter’s birthday is today. Still, all you’ve gotten him is those three shirts.

You feel so shitty. So you quickly came up with a plan.

You would take him out to brunch, walk in central park, and sit on that same bench, and maybe maybe maybe tell him you love him?

Which is a horrible fucking birthday present especially if he doesn’t feel the same way and has to let you down easily. But, you want to let him know he’s important to you and no gift was able to speak that for you.

What’s there to lose to just say it to him?

Everything. You could lose everything you’ve built with him. Don’t say it, Y/N.

“Hey, Peter?” You turned your body to face him, you two were sitting in the exact bench.

“Hm?” He looked over at you, his eyebrows raised.

He was wearing the new blue flannel you bought him. You washed it for him the other day and gave it to him during brunch. Immediately he had put one on (your favorite that you picked out) and has been wearing it all day.

“I wanna tell you something,” No going back, do it. You have to.

“Okay.. What’s up?” His whole body was now facing you. All of his attention on you.

“I just- we’ve been together for five months now. Which is a long time with somebody, at least to me. And you’ve become such an important person in my life and being around you has become so routine that I can’t imagine any of my free time being spent without you.”

He slowly nodded, looking confused.

“I should’ve told you this months ago, but I didn’t. I was too nervous to tell you before, and it’s really not a good time to tell you — especially on your birthday — but I can’t keep it a secret anymore-”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?! Peter, no. Quite the opposite actually,” You joked, he didn’t know what you meant though.

“Oh, phew. I got really scared. You got all serious and then you started saying it wasn’t a good thing to tell me on my birthday-”

“I love you.” You blurted, interrupting his rambling.

He just stared at you, mouth still agape from him talking.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You started to gather your things and about to stand up and leave.

“Wait. Do you? Like actually?” He gripped your wrist, stopping you.

“Yeah,” You turned your head away from him, feeling a blush creep on your face. This was embarrassing.

“I- I love you, too.” He stood up, and positioned his thumb under your jaw to turn your head towards him.

“Wha-”

“I love you.” He repeated himself, this time he was looking into your eyes.

You both leaned in, simultaneously.

“I said it first, but I love you too.” You pulled him by his collar and pressed your lips onto his.

After a moment, you felt him smile against your lips.

“What?” You asked, giggling as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“You love me,” He teased, tickling your sides.

“Don’t get cheesy.”

“No promises,” He laughed, leaning into another kiss.

“Happy birthday, Pete.”

hehehe. okay fr tho it is actually peter parker’s birthday today and i needed to make something. this was lowkey half-assed but i kinda like it so i’m just gonna post it 🥲🥲

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!! 💓

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ NSFW Alphabet

❖ Character: South

❖ Reader: genderneutral | AFAB

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, dom!Reader at D, creampie, rough sex, mentions of toys, being tied up and squirting, public sex, oral (giving and receiving)

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | Requested.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

ꕤ The concept of Aftercare wasn't really something he understood. Everyone just gets clean after

ꕤ You need to tell him what you like and he might grumble about it at first but once he tries it, he loves it and sees why this is important - pampers you and wants to be pampered too

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ꕤ South really likes his Hands and abs, something about his hands on you make him go crazy and he's just proud of how well trained he is

ꕤ on you he really likes your chest since he's an absolute boobs guy, no matter the size

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

ꕤ He would be lying if he said he doesn't like the way his seed runs out of you but if you're uncomfortable with it he would like to release over your chest

ꕤ His cum is quite thin but he cums A LOT, doesn't taste too bad but it's still eh

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

ꕤ He sometimes fantasizes about you tying him up and having his way with him while being really mean

ꕤ Wants to be degraded, slapped and spat on while you use him like he's nothing but a toy to you

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

ꕤ He used to sleep around a lot so he has a clue what he's doing

ꕤ Of course everyone is different but he knows when you like something and bases everything on that

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ꕤ South likes to have you riding him so he can have your tits in his face

ꕤ He also loves taking you in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself getting fucked dumb

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

ꕤ He's not a goofy guy in general but he does chuckle if something awkward happens

ꕤ Otherwise he just sees it as fun, won't make science out of it

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

ꕤ He usually shaves it off so it's stubbles most of the time, doesn't like it too hairy or completely bare - thinks it's either unhygienic or not manly enough

ꕤ His hair is just like the rest of his hair a nice medium to dark blonde

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

ꕤ He can be romantic if he hasn't seen you in a while or for special occasions. Those times he's holding you close, intertwines his hands with yours and it's all sappy love making

ꕤ Otherwise it's more of a fun way to spend some time together, a hobby of his if you will - one for just the both of you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

ꕤ He’s done it daily and sometimes more than once, but without a fail in the shower every morning

ꕤ But since he's with you, he does it a lot less, sometimes wants you to watch (and maybe take over for him)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

ꕤ SIZE KINK!!!!

ꕤ Loves to be called Daddy or Sir, it makes him feel superior

ꕤ He's also super into squirting, trying to get you to do so every time. It doesn't matter where it ends up, he just loves seeing it happen

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

ꕤ He doesn't really have a preference and would do it everywhere in and outside of your place

ꕤ Already had you bent over his piano much to the dismay of your neighbors who heard everything

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

ꕤ If you seduce him/ get dressed up all pretty just for him

ꕤ He likes it when you make him feel wanted and also when you trace his abs / compliment his muscles

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

ꕤ Surprisingly he's not too much into the hardcore stuff like choking and BDSM - only if the mood is right

ꕤ He doesn't want to share you at all but if you really want that, he would do it for you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

ꕤ South prefers receiving, something about you on your knees or just looking so utterly helpless with his cock down your throat makes him go feral

ꕤ He does give as well but you would need to ask for it and it's mostly just if you sit on his face, doesn't want to get neck pain

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

ꕤ He starts off slow and gentle until he worked you open, not wanting to hurt you unnecessary

ꕤ but once he has you creaming around his length he starts to pick up the pace and also the strength of the thrusts, leaving you sore every time

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

ꕤ He likes them especially if you give him quick head or a quick fuck in the gym when no one is around (Benkei and Waka aren't fans of this so beware, their eyes are on you)

ꕤ Otherwise he prefers to take his time, wanting to get you off as well

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

ꕤ He does take risks with you and doesn't really care if you get caught, the people can see and hear how good he makes you feel - if you don't mind that is

ꕤ He also likes to try out new things, be it toys, positions or whatnot but in the end you find each other in the usual positions you two love

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

ꕤ South has stamina for days so he can go long but only 1-2 rounds

ꕤ He doesn't like how sensitive he gets after the first time he came but if you beg for more, give him a few minutes and he's ready to go another round

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

ꕤ He owns a few pocket pussies for himself but doesn't use them anymore, preferring the real thing (maybe you can use one on him??)

ꕤ For you he has every toy he could get his hands on, prefers to torture and edge you with them and make you beg for his cock

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

ꕤ He’s the biggest tease out there, touching you everywhere but where you need it, leaving you at the edge of your release but never quite letting you come undone

ꕤ Would like it if you tease him the same way but it's a dangerous game because he's impatient so prepare to get held down and fucked senseless

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

ꕤ South is so loud it's really hot

ꕤ He moans, tells you the lewdest things and isn't afraid to let you know just how good you are or how beautiful you look

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

ꕤ Once tried wearing lingerie for you but got so embarrassed you never ended up seeing it

ꕤ His enormous tits were barely covered and it just made him feel dumb for trying

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

ꕤ BIG. At least 10 inches (25cm) and thick that you can barely wrap your hand around it

ꕤ It has a slight curve to the right, the tip is a pretty pinkish red and he's not circumcised

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

ꕤ It's quite high but he can also go a while without it if you don't feel like it or are too sore from last time

ꕤ If he needs it so bad he will just take care of it himself, wouldn't force you to do anything

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

ꕤ He gets super sleepy from the aftercare so he mostly falls asleep with you on his chest or him on top of you

Network: @tokyometronetwork

[sasukesgucciflops]

Here I am back on my John Marston BS.

I pointed this out before ab how ppl loved calling John “watered down” but I’m also seeing people forget that he was also put on a very high fucking pedestal and had no idea how to handle it. In other words; he was the gifted kid who got burnt out after everyone expected everything from him. John never expected to be seen as such. He actually preferred to not be held to such a degree. I’m sick and tired of people feeding into the “John’s a golden boy” “John’s a piece of shit” narrative. Clearly these people have only seen RDR2 and have no clue about everything in RDR1 and yes I’m giving an attitude so y’all better catch it.

Here’s my John Marston character analysis and this is only about one aspect of him. (Wait until you see every other aspect bc I’ve literally dissected this man like a frog oops)

He never fucking asked for it. In fact, he didn’t expect jack shit from anybody. If anything, people used him. People used him up. You see it plainly in rdr1, he’s being used to hunt down his old partners. To find his old partners he’s gotta ask the sheriff, what does the sheriff do? He uses him to handle some lowlife gangs around the county. The sheriff ACCIDENTALLY—not even voluntarily—reveals someone that ends up somewhat helping him out. West Dickens—and what does he do? Uses him. Seth? Uses him. Travels over to another country, what do they do? USE HIM!

Okay, so rdr2—if you couldn’t get the picture already—John was one of Dutch’s MAIN PAWNS. That man raised John to USE HIM. John was young and had lots of energy and he was gullible enough to let Dutch do whatever with his naivety. The most fucked up thing about all of it, not only about how (almost) everyone saw him as a pawn, not as a genuine friend, saw him only for his uses;

John didn’t care. He knew he was being used but he didn’t care. Yes it bothers him and again he’s fully aware he’s being ran around in circles by all these people; it doesn’t matter. He sees himself as someone who is replaceable. He’s expendable. It’s whatever. He was always made to think this and perhaps he knew that it was his fate to be all used up and thrown out like it was nothing. And that’s what ended up happening.

No, he wasn’t a perfect father. He SHOULDVE done much much better about that. Just for that I let anti’s breathe a little because in Jack’s younger years, hell no John wasn’t a good father! John was in denial, busy trying to live up to his dreams of being someone he isn’t. On that note, John slowly realized that Abigail and Jack were probably the only ones that didn’t see him as a pawn; they just wanted him to be present and that causes him to do a 180. To him, it was worth dying for them. Maybe he felt as if he owed them a debt that could never be repayed—it’s almost like he expresses this to Jack a dozen different times. “I’m sorry, Son. I’m not going anywhere.” And “I know I wasn’t around a lot for you but I’m trying to make up for that”. He becomes viscerally aware of the damage of his absence (as he should) and it becomes something he fears he’ll never get to make up for.

Abigail never wanted to use him. She just wanted HIM. Jack—OF COURSE never wanted to use him, he wanted a FATHER. Honorable mention, but Arthur never saw him as a pawn either. In fact, he was well aware of how John was being treated, even mentioning it to him canonically, along the lines of, and I’m loosely quoting this, “At first you’ll be a prize pony until you become a work horse”. These people become so important to John—among others such as Bonnie, Charles, Sadie, even Uncle—because they never tried to use. him. John was more than expendable to them, he was worth something to them and for that he loved them and felt as if he would owe them for eternity.

I truly can’t believe some of y’all completely miss that whole point because it’s written EVERYWHERE it’s literally how John’s story goes and we experience it with him. His story is so fucking tragic and yes, while Arthur was the prime example of “having a doomed narrative from the start”, people don’t talk about how John is literally in the same boat. That man was always doomed, by his friends, the people he would try to call family—he was raised all the way up just to be put down…. THAT’S the story of John fucking Marston.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 3/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradely's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007

2008 – Jake

                Flight school.

                Four years at USNA and now he’s back in Texas, the familiarity seeping into him like a homecoming and part of him cannot believe he made it into flight school. Not that he’ll let anyone else think he had any doubt, but he is inwardly fist pumping, outwardly trying to pretend it’s no big deal. He doesn’t care if it comes off smug, he does feel a little smug, that he obviously good enough to have been selected. Damn it feels good. And also such a relief.

                He’s good enough.

                He wants to share it with Nick. Doesn’t of course. While he trusts Nick with pretty much every little piece of vulnerability when it’s related to his sexuality and experience in that arena, his career is shaping up to be another huge part of his identity and he doesn’t need help or guidance from a guy on a website on how to best work on this aspect of his life. He feels like he’s got this one. After a few months though he decides to share, in a vague way, because he’s been getting comments from his instructors.

                Approval.

                He’s doing well.

>>You ever accomplish something that people didn’t think you could do?

>>That even you maybe didn’t think you could do?

>>HA.

>>Yes.

>>Feels fucking amazing to prove them wrong.

                Jake grins at the screen, wants to tell him about how amazing it is, being in the air. How much he loves it, the rush of the pressure pushing him back into the seat as he takes off. The

>>I got into my first choice of programme. So yeah.

>>Does feel pretty good.

>>Well done. Proud of you.

>>Thanks.

>>Think you maybe need to believe in yourself more.

>>Maybe.

>>My parents didn’t.

>>Don’t.

                He hasn’t talked about his parents with Nick. Talking about your parents generally doesn’t come up when your jerking off with another guy online, but they talk about a lot of different stuff now and it fits with this right now. He feels like Nick might get it.

>>I came out to them and they kicked me out.

>>Oh shit. I’m sorry.

>>I mean, it’s not a competition but my parents are dead so I can understand that feeling of loss I guess? Like they should be around to support me, but they aren’t.

>>Sucks more for you I think. They’re alive and are just bigots.

>>I was lucky to already have a place to go.

>>I’m extra proud of you.

                Pensacola is a different beast than boat school, everyone seems to be a little smug that they made the cut to be there, and Jake lets himself absorb the culture. He tries sleeping with a woman only to find that he can apparently have worse sexual experiences than his first time with a man, and of course he finds himself messaging Nick.

>>Bad sex with a man is still preferable than bad sex with a woman.

>>You give in to peer pressure and hook up huh?

>>How did you know?

>>Been there, done that. Got the tshirt.

>>As a gay man I have to tell you that even bad sex with a man rates above mediocre sex with a woman.

>>Why do people care so much where you want to stick your dick?

>>I like that rhyme. And I have no fucking clue. Mystery. It’s not like gay people haven’t always existed.

>>I’ve got a friend, female friend, who knows I’m gay, and she let’s me use her as a beard sometimes. Everyone thinks we have an on-again off-again fuck-buddies type thing going on.

>>So you’re still not out to people.

>>Nope. Would make work impossible so I just –

>>Hide in plain sight.

>>Huh. I wonder if I could get one of my friends to cover for me.

>>A lot less women in the military. Good luck I guess?

>>Well. I think one of my friends might just lie for me. Tell others that he saw me leaving with a hot chick or something. He’s the best wingman.

                He stares at the message, wishes he could call it back.

                Delete it.

                It’s too close to home.

                Wingman.

>>Definitely need a good wingman if you’re planning on cruising. You got bigger balls then me if you’re going to try and do it while you’re not on leave.

>>Are you sure that’s safe?

>>It’s not like they’re following me and putting cameras in rooms. I just need to be careful. Although so not worth it most of the time. But it would be kind of nice to have the option if it did present itself.

>>Yeah, I’m sure guys are just falling into your lap in the military.

>>I mean, they might be and I’m just not picking up the signs. They’re probably so repressed they wouldn’t be any good anyway.

>>I’ll leave that for you to find out.

>>Not sure if I should be wishing you luck or telling you to be careful.

                Jake isn’t sure either. He probably not going to risk it.

…            …            …

                It’s not always possible for them to have instant communication. He gets interrupted sometimes, or Nick isn’t available for days at a time, sometimes weeks, and his own schedule is erratic. However he’s always had time, made time, to chat with him since they found each other and he doesn’t have so many close friends that he can afford to ignore one.

                “What are you always doing on your laptop?” Javy asks and Jake feels like time freezes around him for a split second. Javy is one of the few people he’d count as a friend, his easy-going nature dealing with Jake’s prickliness effortlessly, seemingly patient and just waiting for Jake to come around. They were at USNA together and it wasn’t until they shared all their third- and second-class summers together that Jake had thought that maybe they could be friends.

                “Talking with a friend. He travels a lot.”

                He feels like it’s not actually a stretch of the truth, because he’s figured out that Nick moves around, the times he can talk inconsistent, meaning different times zones. He’s always assumed that Nick is American, but now he knows that the website they’re using to chat is actually based in England, and for all he knows Nick could be anywhere in the world.

>>Are you American?

>>Will you stop talking to me if I say no?

>>Of course not.

>>I’m shaking my head at you. You’re meant to be all patriotic being a member of our military. Shouldn’t be communicating with the enemy.

>>You just called it our military. Pretty sure you’re American.

>>Caught out. Yeah. I travelled around a lot as a kid. Tennessee, California, Virginia, Maryland and even Texas. Who knows, we could have walked past each other and never even known.

>>Yeah. We could have. That would be a weird coincidence.

                “You know, if you ever want to tell me something, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

                Jake’s head snaps up so fast he’s surprised there isn’t an accompanying sound.

                “What?”

                “Just. Uh. I know if there was something, you can’t tell me. But if you did, and I’m not asking you to, but if you did, I wouldn’t be letting anyone else know. No telling on my part, that is.”

                He blinks.

                Holy shit.

                That’s pretty much Javy saying he knows, or at least suspects, that Jake is… something other than straight.

                “Just, once second. Just let me say bye…”

>>I think I’m about to come out to a guy who is my best friend in real life, because you’re my best friend in not-real life, plus we have sex and I do not want to ever have sex with J, but uh… I think I might be sick.

>>I’ll talk to you soon.

                His conversation with Javy goes around in circles for a little bit, Javy not willing to ask outright, and Jake unprepared to speak the truth; terrified to voice it. Then Javy gets fed up, places his hands on Jake’s shoulders and just stares at him, expression serious.

                “Jake. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother. There is nothing, nothing,” he stresses, “that would make me stop loving you as my brother and best friend. So, if in some hypothetical world you felt brave enough to tell me that you were… gay, then it wouldn’t change anything for me. I just. I got your back no matter what okay?”

                Jake can’t form words, grabs Javy into a tight hug, he’s biting his lip so hard it hurts, might even be drawing blood and he nods.

                “Thank you.”

                “Any time man. You want to go shoot some pool?”

                Jake lets out a shaky breath and nods again.

                They spend several hours together, in which Javy seems to want to really impress upon Jake that nothing is going to change between them. He still uses his body to shove Jake out of the way when he shows Javy up at pool, still slaps his ass in a vain attempt to distract him while playing darts, grabs them beers and doesn’t pull his fingers away when they accidentally brush like Jake is somehow going to take that as a sign of something more. He can have friends that know and they won’t hate him.

                It’s a revelation.

…            …            …

>>How did it go?

>>I’m kind of worried about you.

>>Hope you haven’t done anything stupid.

>>Or been beaten up.

>>Dishonorable discharge.

>>Fuck Jas, please tell me you’re okay.

                Jake stares at the flood of messages and feels touched, but also a little hysterical, because none of those worse case scenarios are going to happen. He trusts Javy with his life, he can definitely trust him with knowing.

>>I’m okay. Sorry.

>>It was fine. He had pretty much guessed and we talked about it. He’s the best.

>>After you.

>>Glad to know I haven’t been replaced.

>>I appreciated you for the orgasms.

>>Oh. Okay. Putting me back in my place.

>>Prefer you to put me in my place.

>>Really now? You in the mood huh?

>>Yeah.

>>Fuck. This is awful timing. I’ve got to leave in like five minutes.

>>Can’t take care of you like I want to.

>>That’s okay. You can go out and do what you need to do, and while you’re out you can think about me, jerking off as I type out what I want to do to you.

>>Unfair.

>>Hot though.

>>Shit. I’ve really got to go. I look forward to reading whatever you leave me.

                Jake grins, a little nervous. He’s gotten better at this, anything he does regularly for a few years becomes better, but he doesn’t know if it’s good. Not without Nick offering his constant feedback. He always finds what they talk about together the best, but Nick has left him plenty of messages that are just descriptions of what he wants and likes that Jake wants to return the favor.

>>I want to go down on you, suck you off until you come. I want to kneel in front of you and take my time, learn the taste and smell of you. The texture of your skin under my tongue and fingers.

>>I want to do it while I’m in my uniform, because that feels taboo you know? Want you to rub the head of your dick over my lips.

>>Want you naked so I can touch everywhere.

>>I start off slow, a little cautious because I want you to fuck my face, but we’re going to need to build up to that, stretch out my mouth and throat a little, let me gets used to the feel of you in my mouth and throat.

>>I really want to do this. I’m hard just thinking about it. Like the idea of your hand on my head, just guiding me, think I’d enjoy fingernails scraping my head.

>>I want to do this with a guy with no condom, I want to taste the skin and salt. I want that trust as well.

>>I’d trust you.

2009

[cool-cowboy]

Hello! i hope you’re having a good day/night

totally feel free to ignore my request btw :)

i was having a little thought, how would vendetta Leon be with a chubby/pudgy wife? his wife kinda insecure about her body but he comforts her with some soft/gently sex :)

Again, feel free to ignore my request about this, truly sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, hope you have a good day, or night :3

Hope this is what you were looking for !!! Haven't done much hurt/comfort type of writing but I think he's the perfect amount of sweet and convincing.

Tags:

Hurt/comfort, older Leon Kennedy, Body image issues, soft sex, praise, body worship, dirty talk, short and sweet, vaginal fingering, warm and fuzzy

Summary:

It's movie night, and you mention some sour feelings regarding your shopping experience earlier that day, which your husband of course doesn't appreciate, showers you with compliments and reassurance and shows you just how much he loves your body, even if you don't

Text:

“You haven’t told me about your day.” He’s been home a few hours, long enough to get cleaned up, have dinner and get cuddled up on the couch. Movie night, he’d said, wants to relish his “Vacation”, considering his last one didn’t go so well. He’s got me between his legs, pulled me down instead of letting me seat myself, has me stomach down overtop him, head laid on his stomach, turned up to look at him, neither of us very interested in the movie, just the company. 

“You haven’t either.” He gives me a look, his flat, “Are you serious?” kind of look. He doesn’t like to tell me, most the time, says it brings down the mood, which I guess it does, but I don’t mind, don’t want him to carry it all on his own, even if he does prefer that to letting me shoulder it alongside him. “It was fine, boring, just missed you…” He hums, running his hand up and down my back, seeming pensive, well aware I’m not usually this vague. 

“How’d the shopping go?” Of course he wouldn’t let it be, though I guess he has no clue, just curious, doting, so I can’t really be upset with him, not his fault I’m having a dramatic kind of day. 

“Not so good… I uh- I’ve gained- Nothing was fitting how I wanted, didn’t really get much. Found some stuff for you, though.” It’s embarrassing, telling him, a man in nearly the best shape he can be, about my problems, even if he doesn’t find it all that problematic, thinks I’m the best thing on God’s green earth, doesn’t give a damn if I’m not exactly fit. 

“Mm. You think too damn much about it, sweetheart, ‘m sure you looked hot as hell. You gotta let me come with you next time, let me tell you how gorgeous you really are…” I really have no idea what it is about me, why he spoke with me that day, getting my attention and spewing the most idiotic pickup line I’ve ever heard, something about the line taking so long he could take me out before we get our coffees. At first I’d thought he was joking, had to be, looking at him, insanely handsome and fit, but he of course wasn’t, would never, talked me into my number and got me out to dinner the following Friday, and the rest is history, couple years of the most perfect love I could’ve ever hoped for, a kind and thoughtful partner, the only person I trust these days. 

“I don’t know, Le… You know I don’t like shopping…” He frowns, petting my hair, seeming upset, not happy I don’t find myself as incredible as he does, I guess, not that I can be blamed, he’s too lovesick to see it, so deep in it he’d never think a single ill thought about me. 

“Alright, just saying, offer’s on the table… But you gotta know it doesn’t matter, hun, don’t worry about it, ‘s not a- Well, you know what the hell I think, yeah? You’re goddamn perfect, that’s it, ‘m so lucky I met you, sweetheart, every goddamn day I can’t wait to come home to you, fuck, you know I’m not good at talking, let me show you.” He gets me under him, the movie all but forgotten the second he does, the familiar warmth settling in my stomach at the sight of him above me, my sour mood lifted, his love all I really care enough to keep, and he doesn’t care, isn’t bothered by a few extra pounds, relishes it, says he likes seeing me well taken care of, comfortable and just whatever I am, never asks for anything else, just me. “You were beautiful the day we met…” He leans down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to my lips, trailing his way down, slowly, speaking softly between presses of his lips to my neck. “...And you’re even better now… I was so damn nervous to talk to you… I ever tell you that?” He huffs a laugh, tickling me, the hand not supporting him running down my side, over my tee, well, his tee, pausing to grip lightly to my hip, squishing into it, a pleased sound hummed against me at the feel of it. “God, you feel good… So soft… Love your body so damn much… Love you, sweetheart… So beautiful… Fuckin’ perfect…” He’s pushing at my shirt, slow, easing it up as he kisses his way back toward my jaw, rough hand sliding up across my ribs, soft and affectionate. “You in the mood? Cause I sure as hell am, you’re looking too damn good today, been thinkin’ about it since I got home…” I hum, petting at his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling fuzzy from him, his affection leeching my fears away, replaced with a hazy, soft want, an easy need he’s more than ready to fulfill. 

“Yeah, I am. Feels good, Le…” It really does, especially soft, loving, his hand sliding back down to splay over my waist, thumb fanning over the skin of my stomach, sweet kisses making their way back to my lips. “You wanna go to the bedroom? I don’t wanna make a mess on the couch…” He smiles, only a little, shaking his head and kissing me some more, giving the skin he has a hold of a little squeeze. 

“I’ll clean up- Just- Don’t feel like waiting.” I hum in approval, letting my hands card through his hair and slide around the back of his neck, feeling soft, weightless from all the affection, his gentleness usually not all that plain, buried under years of weight stacked over him, his work turned him into something hard, uncaring, unless it’s for me, in which case he’s reduced to this, the lover he used to be, the kind, soft rookie cop he was meant to be, easing my shirt up over my head, seeming completely relaxed looking down on me, all gooey and comfortable, leaning down to place another sweet kiss to my lips before trailing down, kissing his way down over my stomach, looking up at me all the way down, lips skimming along toward my hip as he pulls on my pants, easing them down and off, kissing at the little indents the elastic left on my skin. “That’s it, sweetheart… Keep on looking at me… Let me show you how much I love you…” He gets rid of my panties next, running his hands back up my thighs and easing them apart, eyes cast down as he settles himself between my legs, sat up, knees under my thighs, squishing them against him, his hands covering the whole front of them as he slides them up, all the way to my waist, one coming back down to tease along my panty line, thumb tracing along the outside, slow, his eyes on my face, watching, relishing the softness between us. “So pretty baby… Love the way you look at me… So sweet for me.” He presses his thumb to my clit, trailing it down and back up, rubbing soft circles and staring down at me, his other hand on my hip, kneading, his eyes on me, affectionate, indulging. “Just relax… Yeah, look so good… Just lay back and let me make you feel good…” He’s gotten too good at it, can get me off near just as fast as I can do it myself, has me shaking already, is smiling, head titled affectionately, so doting. “That’s it… Shaking for me… So hot, baby… Go ahead, you’ve got it… So close sweetheart…” I’m not looking at him anymore, have my eyes close and my head tilted back, letting it wash over me, the tightness before release, his sweet words mellowing it all out, leaving me mushy, hazy as he works me up. “C’mon, cum for me… Wanna see you… Get you all fucked out for me… Make you forget everything but this… There you go, doing so good, look so pretty cumming for me…” It’s soft, not the usual, dramatic kind of orgasm, just a blissful kind of sensation, hazy and warm and full of him, my perfect husband. 

“Le, Come here.” He does, brings his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I can imagine, all love, a hand to the side of my face, holding me to him while he gets his fill, kissing me soft and slow, loving me the way I’ve always wanted. “Hey… Let me have a turn.” He pulls back, giving me a look, skeptical, dipping down for a bit more of a chaste kiss before looking at me again, so affectionate it’s sickening, his love for me just about all his heart has room for, he says, tells me he’s never loved if this is what love is. 

“Not yet… I’m not done showing you just yet.”

[likeastarstar]

10:50 PM - Hoseok

(A/N: this is a sequel to 3:20 AM! Feedback is very much appreciated!)

Hoseok wasn't drinking as much anymore.

He didn't have time, not when he was working as much as he was and then even after he was done for the day he came straight to you. He wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to hold you every night. Life felt better like this; Sleeping with your body entangled in his. Things didn't always turn this sinful, but when it did you leaned into it.

You didn't really know what any of it meant- but it felt really damn good anyway.

Hoseok leaned over your figure, pressing you deeper into the mattress. He let his hand trailed over your torso, lips laving over the skin of your neck. 

"You haven't been drinking as much, does that mean you're not as stressed?" You whispered, pushing your body up against his.

Hoseok hummed, "Still stressed. Just different coping mechanisms."

His lips moved to your chest and took one of your breasts between his lips, tongue licking board strokes over your nipple. You moaned, hand immediately sinking into his hair and holding him there. 

"I thought about this, you know." He mumbled against your skin, "About what it might be like to have you like this. Thought about it all the time- of course, I was too pussy to do anything about it and resorted to drunk dialing you instead."

"That's why you always called me?" You realized, butterflies swarming in your belly.

His teeth scraped against your skin and you felt goosebumps spread down from your head to your toes. He notices you still beneath him and does it again until you whimper out a soft 'fuck' and his other hand squeezes your side.

You'll take that as a yes.

"Is this okay? Can I use you like this?" He mumbled against your skin. "If making you cum gets me off- makes me feel good- can I use you for that?"

You nodded feverishly, a mantra of yes yes yes falling from your lips.

The way he spoke was breathless, in short staccato phrases you had to piece together like a puzzle to form one whole picture of complete surrender in your mind. He gave you bits and pieces of himself, clues that revealed a larger need for you that he felt. Hoseok challenged you, forced you to be smart enough to decode what he wanted from you.

"This is better, right? Better than an impending alcohol addiction? You'd prefer that I get addicted to you instead, right? The way I see it, this is better, being addicted to something softer, prettier." Hoseok mused. "Better that I get addicted to something nice to me, something that doesn't make me wake up with a terrible headache."

"I'm attached to that something," You mused, laughing softly when he bit down on your skin.

"I know, that makes it even better." He assured, The hand drifting down your torso reached between your thighs and dipped into your center. 

"I'm sure I don't provide the same level of distraction though. An orgasm doesn't exactly last as long as a night of drinking," You joked.

Hoseok pulled back, staring down at you with an unreadable expression, "No, you're wrong. This thing between us, whatever we are, it's all I can think about. You being with me alone is stronger than any other kind altering substance I've taken- trust me, there's been a lot."

"I was kidding-"

"I know," Hoseok assured, "But I just want to make it clear that I could spend my entire life in a bed with you and be happy. We don't even have to be fucking- I'd listen to you breathe and be perfectly content."

You knew he was being honest. For maybe the first time in a really long time, you believed him completely. You knew the smile on his face and the content sigh that left his lips. This version of him was recognizable, this was the Hoseok you had known for years. The gentle, honest one you fell in love with way too easily. The one you had been afraid to confess your feelings too for some reason that felt entirely stupid now.

"Kiss me, please," You whispered.

Slowly, languidly, he kisses your mouth open, dragging his tongue along your lip. You whimper against him, feeling Hoseok sucking the tip of his tongue gently. He let it continue like that for a moment, pushing into your space and controlling your body.

You sighed, happy to stay like this. His lips are so incredibly soft. You don't think you'll ever get enough of them, or of how they push against under the pressure of your tongue and teeth. Kissing him felt right- you had kissed a lot of people but this was different. This felt so different.

You felt him smile against you and pushed your body flat against his, moaning into his mouth. You wanted to make him feel good again- completely replace any toxic traits with a different kind of addiction. You'd do it the right way- take care of him and nurse him back to his carefree himself. Little by little, you'd do it.

He inched his hands up your body, slowly- little by little.

"This is much better than you drinking," You whispered in his ear, grinning when you felt him shudder against you.

This was way better.

Hoseok held you closer, kissing your shoulder, your neck, your collarbones, behind your ear- you were sure he had kissed every part of your body at this point. There wasn't a piece of you he wasn't familiar with, not a single space on your body that hadn't been warmed by his touch.

You pulled at the hemline of his shirt, mumbling to him about taking it off. He denied you, hips still rocking against yours. You kept telling him to take your clothes off, trying to speed up the process until his hands closed over yours, stopping you.

"Shh," He hushed, leaning down to kiss the space below your ear. His voice was soft in your ear, making you blush and shiver. "Just let me take care of you."

He did take care of you.

He held you with a light pressure, touched you better than you knew to touch yourself. He kissed his way down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. He nibbled at your skin at your breast, sucking at the sensitive underside of your left side before making his way back to the top, taking his time before taking it completely in his mouth. You gasped and arched your back up into him, wanting more. You were always so sensitive to touch when it came to Hoseok.

He continued on like that, paying your whines of impatience no mind until your chest was completely covered in heart shaped marks and he looked pleased with his work, trailing kisses down your stomach and nestling himself between your thighs.

"You're so wet," he breathed, warm breath against your most sensitive spots, admiring the way your folds dripped and gleamed.

You moaned and sunk your hand into his hair, pushing his face into you as he placed his hands on either side of your inner thighs and pushed- hard. Your legs split wide, spread out in front of him for his consumption and he dove in, using careful motions to lap at your clit. His movements were slow but you felt them everywhere, practically melting when his lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves and sucked.

Your back arched and hand tightened around his soft locks, hips rolling against him until he pushed your thighs back down, rendering you immobile. He increased his pace, ripping pleasure from you as your moans turned to eager cries, begging him over and over to keep going. You felt climax building in your body, trembling beneath him until-

He stopped.

"What the f-fuck-" You yelled, staring down at him in angry confusion, pussy still spasming uncontrollably, in search for an orgasm that wouldn't come.

Hoseok smirked, sitting up and back onto his heels. His cheeks were flushed and his lips pink and shiny with your arousal, hair sticking up in every direction, "This is fun, right? I could play with you like this all day- You're so pretty like this, all desperate and whiny. You should see yourself like this, fucking gorgeous."

"Why did you do that? Why'd you stop?" You whined, slamming your fist down onto the comforter.

"Because," He shrugged, pulling his shirt off above his head and rolling his shoulders back with a small smile on his face. "We have all night and I want to take my time with you. Plus, when you cum, I want it to be around my cock, not my tongue- is that okay with you?"

You blushed, unable to make eye contact with him directly so instead you stared up at your ceiling, "O-Oh. Okay, yeah."

"that's my girl," He grinned, taking your legs in his hands and yanking you closer to him by them, the outline of his hard cock pressing through his boxers into your very wet pussy.

This was way better.

Masterlist.

[deathww1sh]

No one should feel obligated to be attracted to someone just because they're of a specific sex or gender. You need to respect people's boundaries and learn some fucking consent. Doesn't matter how much bitching people like you do, there will always be people that aren't into certain genitals. (And that's okay)

Unironically go fuck yourself. Imagine calling someone evil and transphobic because they don't like pussy or dick. I can see why so many of you hate asexuals...

1. I have no idea what prompted this. Like not a clue what post I've made recently this could be in regards to. I've reblogged a post that was mainly focused on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict and did some whining in the tags about not enjoying being trans... And then I also reblogged a "transphobes eat shit and die" GY! BE post.

Neither of those had anything to do with genitals whatsoever. Neither of them had anything to do with sexual orientation or gender preference either.

2. If you took a second to ask my stance on the matter I think you'd find I actually agree with you? This is why I'm so shocked by this, like... No, of course, no one is obligated to be attracted to anyone. Ever. Full stop no argument. For any reason. I am such a huge advocate for consent that I fully believe its in everyone's best interest for me to disclose that I'm trans before I even meet someone for a first date. Like... What the fuck are you getting at, here. What did I say or reblog that says otherwise?

I don't care if people are or are not attracted to me and my parts. I care about feeling safe. I care about being allowed to fucking exist. I care about not being harassed, mocked, and scapegoated as the cause of all society's problems.

I didn't call anyone evil or transphobic for not liking certain genitals. I don't find that transphobic in most circumstances. It's just a fact of life and I'm more than willing to accept it. You're grasping at straws and putting words in my mouth.

3. I don't hate asexuals. They're part of the family, just as much as I am, and are discriminated against and ostracized. Asexual pride and comfort is important to me. That someone is brave enough to stand up and say they don't experience that sort of attraction in a world that puts so much weight on it is something I respect deeply. Upholding Ace rights can only benefit me--it counts as being sexually or gender nonconforming which is like... The whole point of the community. Not to lean on a stereotype but some of the closest friends I've ever had have been ace, and I myself am aro. What have I said or done recently that says I hate asexuals?

Sure sounds to me like you're painting a group of people (transfolk) all with the same brush (hating asexuals, demanding everyone has to enjoy all genitals regardless of preference). Is that not the definition of a phobia?

Like. I'm sure you're never gonna return to answer this, but I'd sure like to see what on my blog has given you thus impression. lol like what did I say. Holy fuck. Sounds to me like you just hate trans people man, or maybe you're just so upset about hearing our voices you lashed out at whichever one was nearest to you in that moment.

"people like you" lol goddamn. Get to know me outside of my most controversial trait maybe before you spew a bunch of dumb shit at me

[dorefasolsido]

20.

Have you ever cut your own hair?

Yes, actually. Just the other weekend I decided to trim it by myself for the first time ever! I don't particularly like going to the hairdressers and do it really rarely, but now that my hair is short, it needs trimming more often. So I was like, fuck it, I'll just watch Youtube tutorials and do it myself. It worked well too, if I do say so myself.

What do you eat most frequently?

I guess chocolate. I don't know what proper food I eat the most often, but chocolate is a staple.

Are you a fan of video games?

Yup, even if I don't have time to play now.

What's your favorite color combination?

Black with anything.

Did you share a locker at school?

We never had lockers in school.

What's one sport you could never play?

Idk, most of them.

Blue or black ink?

Black!

Have you ever sung karaoke?

Yes, when I was much younger it was a popular thing to do at birthdays. I haven't done it since, but I'd like to.

What was the last concert you attended?

It was this local singer, but it was awful because it took place in a tiny town in a narrow street and it was so crowded and annoying and the sound was terrible. You literally had to stand right next to the stage to hear anything, and most people couldn't get close at all. That's not the singer's fault, the setup was just stupid.

Have you held anyone's hand in the past week?

No.

What's your favorite perfume/body spray/cologne?

I wanna buy a new perfume soon because I've mostly been using deodorants and not bothering with them. But I don't have a favourite right now.

How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

I don't normally get ready for anything in the morning.

What is the oldest age you think should wear makeup?

Tf, just wear makeup as long as you want.

What's your nationality(ies)?

Serbian.

Are you an open book?

Not really at all. Which is why I come here to chat to myself.

Do you think you're a good secret keeper?

I believe so.

Name one fashion trend you could never follow.

Low-waisted jeans with crop tops. High-waisted with crop tops is fine, I just don't think I'd feel comfortable in the option 1. I've started seeing it around now, and it looks great on some people, but not for me.

Do you prefer long hair or short hair?

Oh this is a tough question now. I did like my long hair, but I feel so much lighter with short hair. I also think it's cuter and easier to deal with. So, I guess shorter for now!

When do you plan to go to sleep tonight?

My sleep was pretty horrible last night, so I guess I'll go to sleep soon. It's 2.20 AM now.

Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? If so, who?

Doctors, I guess.

What exotic animal would you love to have as a pet?

A bat or an owl.

Do you want kids when you're older?

Nah.

Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child?

I honestly don't think so. I only took English classes but I loved those. Mum once tried to sign me up for ballet, but I didn't want to continue after the first class, so she didn't push it.

Where's your cell phone?

On the floor next to me.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

So hear me out. Dinosaurs lay eggs too and they are older than birds, right? So it has to be the egg.

What are your feelings about Octomom?

I have no clue who that is.

Do you know of Smosh?

Of course. But I never really watched them. I watched some of Anthony's new interview style videos.

Do you drink enough water daily?

Definitely not.

Is your diet healthy?

Not particularly.

What's your favorite fruit?

Watermelon, if it counts as fruit.

What was your favorite Halloween costume?

I've never done any Halloween costumes sadly.

Have you purchased any cool objects from a foreign country?

Yup.

Are you on a laptop or a desktop computer right now?

Laptop.

Where do you plan to post this survey?

On Tumblr.

Do you remember anyone's number by heart?

My parents' landline, my sister's phone, mum's phone, and my old phone number.

Are you a morning person or a late night owl?

Night owl, through and through.

Name something you will never try in your lifetime.

Heroin.

What do you think is your biggest flaw?

Extremely avoidant personality.

First physical trait you notice in the sex you're attracted to?

Well I'm not attracted to any, but I usually just notice people's general vibe first.

How about personality wise?

If they are more quiet and reserved or extroverted.

Are you sick often?

Not at all.

Would you rather have strep throat or an ear infection?

Strep throat. I don't like the sound of an ear infection.

When did you last shower?

This morning.

Do you have neat handwriting?

Absolutely not.

Are you a messy or organized person?

More or less messy. Or rather, chaotic.

At what age do you hope to get married?

I don't hope to.

Is being thin really all that great?

I don't think it really is, at least if you are in that mindset where you obsess over it. Plus, there was a time I was underweight, and let me tell you, that's not a great experience. I felt so fatigued from the smallest physical activity.

Which of the seven deadly sins do you think you're most guilty of?

Sloth.

How much time have you spent on the computer today?

Loads of time, but I always do. I work on my computer and also do stuff for fun on it.

What size shoe are you?

38 woman's size.

How was the weather today?

It was sunny and really warm.

Do you live above, below, or on the Equator?

Above.

Do you know how to use Photoshop?

I know the basics.

Admit it, you're thinking about someone right now.

Not at all.

Where is he/she?

////

Where was your first job?

At an online English tutoring school.

Favorite year in high school?

If I really had to choose, second year. But generally, all of them sucked.

East or West?

I live in East Europe, but idk what this question is asking.

Where did your first kiss take place?

At either my or the boy who kissed me's birthday party, but I don't remember much at all lol

What color do you wear most often?

Black.

Who was the last person you talked on the phone to?

My sister, briefly.

Have you ever done your own laundry?

Yup.

Have you ever been to a night club?

Yup.

Are you allergic to anything?

All kinds of things.

What's the best place you have ever eaten?

Mmm, idk, my favourite sushi restaurant holds a special place in my heart.

Do you own a hair straightener?

Yup.

Are you barefoot right now?

Yup.

Are you subscribed to any magazine?

Nope.

Puppies or kittens?

Kitties :333

Who is the best artist you've seen live?

Tool.

Any major plans coming up this week?

Yes, visiting another city for a team building event, marathon thingy.

Did you know they never told you Arnold's last name in Hey, Arnold?

I actually didn't. I watched that cartoon occasionally but I don't remember too much.

Would you rather watch a romantic comedy or watch a thrilling horror movie?

Thrilling horror movie.

Why is Paris Hilton famous?

Wasn't she in a reality show? Tbh, I didn't follow why exactly she became famous.

How is your hair styled right now?

It's just in two tiny ponytails in the back.

Favorite person that you've talked to today?

Tough choice between my sister and best friend.

Do you need AC right now?

Not right now. It's nighttime, so it's not very hot.

What do you think about cheating/cheaters?

Well nothing good. I could elaborate, but I don't really feel like it.

Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name?

My name is really short so usually name. Some use a nickname tho.

Name something you're proud of.

Making it to the national competition in English in high school and ranking as high as I did.

How much does it suck to learn something 'the hard way?'

I mean, it sucks, but often there's no other way.

Are you a hopeless romantic?

Definitely not.

How do you feel about couples who say 'I love you' too soon?

I mean, I don't care what other couples do. But knowing my avoidant tendencies, I'd probably freak out a little bit. Not that I'd think it's weird, I'd just be like, this is too much. And that's why I should go to **therapy**

What's the most recent favor you've done for somebody?

I bought a German textbook for a girl from my course because she couldn't make it in time to buy her own.

Are you at home right now?

Aha.

What did you last spend money on?

On some snacks and chocolate milk.

Does any accent annoy you?

I don't think so.

How about turn you on?

I was a fan of British accent in the past, but I don't think I really care anymore. I like foreign accents of English though. They are all so colourful.

Are you wearing any jewelry?

Two bracelets, earrings, and ear piercings.

Do you get along better with your mom or your dad?

Both pretty equally.

Are you craving anything right now?

Nope.

What's worse: Crocs or Uggs?

I think Uggs. I actually kinda vibe with Crocs, even if I don't really wear them.

Do you knock before you open doors?

Well yeah, if I'm not in my own house.

Do you know what a sock on the doorknob means?

Actually yes. Why do I know these things?? I'm ace and never had a roommate I'd need to learn this stuff for lol.

Chocolate or vanilla?

Chocolate.

What's your zodiac sign?

Leo.

Does Fred from Youtube annoy you?

Lol no. I mean, sure, he was obnoxious, but I just didn't watch him so I wasn't annoyed. I think he changed his content completely and is now doing something totally different.

[confetti-critter]

actually aside from not calling me my preferred name, it's also bothering me that at my employee review they were telling me "make sure to be at your desk RIGHT when breaks end!" because I go and take a piss after my break before starting back with work. I didn't tell them this cuz I think its fucking stupid to have to explain myself like that. So fine, I'll piss right before my scheduled break and then go on my break. Its 15 fucking minutes I'm not gunna waste it going to the bathroom when I'm allowed to go to the bathroom anytime (SUPPOSEDLY). I'm so fucked up in the head that if someone comments on this change like "thank you for making the effort!" just because I'm at my desk at 3pm and not 3:04pm ill get pissed n maul them to death (in my head). But most likely they'll be like erm we've noticed you leaving your station early and uhhhhhhurzitxkgxitsfhb

AND WHILE IM AT IT they were talking about the pace at which I work and saying I could work faster (BUT STILL without making any errors!!1!) I've honestly been working at a good pace and can get like 3 orders a day done assuming we actually get product in (that's a different story), which is the same as every other person in distribution. When I showed them my notebook where I wrote down everything I did in a workday since the beginning of april (because I have problems), they seemed surprised and were like "oh. Well we're more talking about preparing you for when it really picks up in the fall" ok so why did you try and make it seem like I'm not working fast enough right now?

They said "oh well we want blah blah blah units moved in a day in total and we actually get around blah blah" ok so is that a feasible goal or is it just higher-ups not knowing how things work in the warehouse and just wanting the 4 people max (who you LITERALLY admitted is much less than you used to have) to just magically work like machines (but still not make any errors!!)? One of them was literally like "ok I dont know how it all works down there but-" ok so maybe get a clue first before running your mouth.

And they ended by asking "and what do you think about cake day and pizza parties and awards where you get gift cards?" It took all that I could to not tell them it's a piss poor excuse for not paying employees enough, or allowing unionization, and while I'm at it forcing ppl to participate in "spirit days" is fucking stupid as well, and this entire "culture" surrounding workplaces makes me want to stick razor sharp glass shards into my brain.

But of course when they asked if I'd like to learn how to do another thing I was like "well if you need extra help, I guess" because if I dont play along for a couple more months I won't be able to get health/dental. 🙃

And no talk of a raise of course (min. wage is going up 70 cents soon after all!!)

The working environment and subsequently the society+social rules that come with it and I do not get along.

[tired-biscuit]

Haha, I love that the amount of horny Kiba asks you get has skyrocketed

So of course I have to continue to contribute to that ✨️

I absolutely loved your horny thoughts post where you explored the more animalistic/in heat kibz! Ah biscuit, you get me every time!

God, poor Naruto he's such an idiot so of course he has no idea why Kiba would get mad at him out of nowhere

Imagine having a friends with benefits relationship with both Kiba and Naruto

And both of them start catching feelings

And honestly you are too, and you don't want to do anything about it because you can't bring yourself to pick between them

And Kiba knows that it's supposed to stay feelings free, but whenever he is spending time with you and smells his scent on you

He starts making a point of marking you up more, he gets so rough whenever he thinks he has to claim you, and afterwards he offers to shower with you "to look at your beautiful body" but really it's just so that the scent of Naruto is gone from you, and so that afterwards he can cuddle up with you to make you smell like him

Naruto also knows its supposed to be feelings free, but whenever he sees the marks that Kiba has left on you he gets so irritated.

It gets to the point where Kiba is jealous enough that he confronts Naruto and they both get into a huge argument about who can fuck you better

So you're sitting on your couch at home when the both of them burst in through your door demanding to know who gives it to you better

And you cannot stop blushing because you never thought you would have them both here, and also you can't really decide between the two of them

"Come on babe, you know he can't fuck you like I do, right?"

"No way! I'm sure I make you cum way more than he can"

And you're a blushing, aroused mess when you manage to squeak out "why don't you put it to the test right now?"

Getting absolutely destroyed between the two of them

And when they are done and ask you who was better again, you're too fucked out to really answer, practically panting trying to catch your breath.

So they both help with the aftercare, and end up snuggling up to you on either side.

I love these men

fr!! i have no clue what i did to get people to start sending me kiba thirsts, but i wanna say thank you for 'em cos they make me happy. i appreciate them, sweet anon and all the others who have sent their share!! makes me wanna kiss you all.

feral!kiba will probably become a future one-shot, though i understand that it might not be for everyone because it'll explore some darker sexual themes which can be triggering for some.

the warnings will be there ofc, but i kinda wanna unleash some frustration, write this big, bad, bold dom!kiba and really focus on the cnc aspect and the predator/prey kink. it's gonna be a bit different than what i usually put out, but i'm still thinking of a sweet ending when he calms down, tho for the rest of the story he'll be rough and tough. i'm talking zero respect... it's just my preference when it comes to him, i suppose, lol.

also, i kinda wanna write him grabbing naruto by the collar cos he touched you and shoving him away with surprising strength, all enraged, nearly going berserk, like: "don't touch my fucking girl." while naruto is just over there like "what da fawk did i even do? kiba? kiba, this ain't you. 😦" before it clicks that his friend is in heat and he's like "ohhhh.", lmfaooo.

and as for the prompt you've just sent me... GAWDAMN!!! what i wouldn't give to be sandwiched between those two hunks, fr. i wanna sweat as they'd tear me apart cos of how competitive they are, istg. ughhhh. like yes sir and daddy, lemme die underneath your hands. 🥺😭

i wanna say polyamorous relationship would be a good solution, but i doubt it'd work because they wouldn't get along as soon as they'd have to share you during dates and other mushy stuff. they don't love each other in that kind of way, they just love you. so they'd definitely fight. and it'd definitely get physical sometimes because they're both idiots who lack patience.

however, i do see threesomes happening way more often after that specific time, because they'd still keep trying to one up one another, hehe. all of a sudden they're both constantly hanging out at your apartment - literally exhausting you to the point where one of them has to carry you to bed and the other has to carry you out of it cos you wouldn't be able to walk.

like they're both so big, bulky, strong, have so much stamina... byeeee, they'd murder your pussy. straight up obliterate it 🤩

and yeah same, i love 'em both so much. they're both so handsome and complete opposites visually, but are literally the same person personality-wise [well, kiba is a bit moodier and snarkier and naruto is a bit more naive and goofy, but we can't all be perfect, eh?]

truly my two fave himbo kings 💛

[monaisdark]

i like how u write Shigaraki 😳❤ can u do maybe some bully reader with a sprinkle of virgin!shiggy hehe 🥰 reader can be dom or sub its up to you!! ❤

AH i’ve been meaning to check my inbox but ommmg this motivates me so much, thank you ! <3 I decided to do some dom reader - hope its ok!

➨ paring — Virgin! Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Bully! Reader 

➨ warnings —  Sub! Shigaraki, Dom! Reader, slight mommy kink, slight masturbation, humiliation, degradation, cum denial, begging

PART 2

Shigaraki slumped into the ground, his back against the now wet wall. It hasn’t even been 3rd period yet and you already completely ruined his day. You and your group of followers threw water at him, something about him smelling bad. His papers and books were thrown out of his bag, soggy and falling apart from the water poured on them and his favorite hoodie now uncomfortably wet. 

Shigaraki would already be late to class by now so he didn’t bother to scurry off like your friends did when they heard the late bell for class. You walked a bit behind them, turning your head back at him a few times before completely disappearing down the hall. 

Shigaraki wasn’t sure what he did for you to hate him so much. It was almost like you were out to get him since day one. And of course, you being so popular, it made him the school outcast, well, even more of an outcast.

He tried everything — ignoring you, doing everything you asked him, even trying to fight back. The last try left him with a sprained wrist and bruised cheek. So in the end, everything left him either humiliated, damaged, or hurt. 

He finally stood up as he heard footsteps from a hall monitor coming down the hall he was in, grabbing his backpack that contained the remaining contents of his school stuff before running off into a nearby bathroom to hide. Luckily, nobody was there to see how disheveled he looked.

Shigaraki took off his hoodie, thankfully the hoodie was thick and caught most of the water, leaving his long sleeved undershirt a bit damp but nothing he couldn’t handle for the rest of the day. He set everything wet under the hand drier, letting the hot air dry them a bit. 

As he dried his face, something at on the floor caught Shigaraki’s eye. It was a small piece of paper that was also damp. He picked it up confused, did it fall out of his hoodie pocket? 

‘’Shigaraki, meet me in room 204 after school today. Be there.’’  He could read out from the smudged, running ink. Shigaraki looked at it confused, yeah it was definitely for him but why? How did this even get into his pocket? He’s usually always alone, he didn’t hang out or spend his school days with anyone.

“Hey! Get to class!” The voice of the hall monitor outside of the bathroom almost made him yelp. He stuffed the note into his back pocket, grabbing all his stuff that was thankfully a bit more dry before leaving.

You eyed Shigaraki from across the cafeteria, a small smirk tugged your lips as you saw him pull out the tiny piece of paper for the 12th time that lunch. A wave of satisfaction overcame you every time you saw his eyebrows furrowed at the paper. 

You tried to make the note as vague as possible, you could tell from the confused look on his face that he didn’t have a clue on who sent it. Just how you wanted it.

You turned your thoughts back to your friends, mixing your laughter with theirs. You had no idea what they were laughing at. These people are assholes, why do you hang out with them again? A small boy whimpered on the floor, his food spilled all over his body. Oh, that's why. Like hell you’d be on the receiving end of their bullying.

It’s not like you felt bad. School was a hierarchy, these poor people were just at the bottom. When you first got here, you quickly rose to be at the top. Not like you expected to be anything less. You held yourself to a high standard, of course you’d be at the top.

So it made you sick seeing how some of these people held themselves, especially Shigaraki. He looked and smelled like he only showers every other day, he alternated between 2 hoodies each week, did he even bother to wash them?

He barely talked to anyone, usually playing some videogame on his phone. Does he not care about himself? Well maybe that was why you targeted him, you just wanted him to be better. Nothing else.

Then you noticed how much of a pervert he was. If a girl was ever near him, his eyes would automatically shoot to their chests before awkwardly shifting away from them. In P.E, you found it funny how he’d try to hide his boners after seeing all the girls in their shorts. How gross, he’s a horny little virgin.

You almost felt bad, maybe if he smelt better, maybe if he wore better clothes, maybe if he just tried to take care of himself. It was no surprise that he wasn’t getting chicks. But then again, he didn’t look too confident in anything. Yet alone girls.

That’s when you had came up with a plan. You’d sleep with him. Don’t get it wrong, you had dignity. If it was anyone else, you’d probably make fun of them even more, maybe even expose their perverted behavior.

But Shigaraki looked so helpless, if he kept up with this he’d never get better. Maybe he’d become desperate enough to start touching girls on the train to school, how disgusting.

You were doing everyone a favor. This is just charity work.

“Hey.” Shigaraki jumped, what? He was even more confused then before, you? Why would you send him a letter to meet him alone after school? He stayed quiet, he backed into a desk as he heard the click of the door. Locked, shit, you locked the door. You probably were gonna beat him up, usually you’d have other people pick on him, was today finally the day you’d take more action?

“Stop sweating, I’m not here to do anything bad.” You walked in front of him, Shigaraki would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. “Um — why.. why did you want to meet me?” Shigaraki’s voice cracked and you almost laughed, has he ever even been alone in the same room as girl?

You decided to be blunt, there was no sugar coating what was about to happen. “You’re a virgin right, Shigaraki?” You brought your hands to the buttons of your shirt, slowly unbuttoning your top.

Shigaraki immediately felt himself starting to get hard at the sight of your bra. “What—” You rolled your eyes, doesn’t he get it? How dense can he be? “Just answer me.” 

Shigaraki felt so humiliated, this was honestly worse then all the bullying he experienced from you. He has to admit to his bully that he’s a virgin, or better yet, that he’s never even gotten close touching a woman.

He couldn’t lie, I mean look at him! The most action he’s gotten was those JOI videos he’d watch late at night. “Yeah..” He whispered enough for you to hear, just incase anyone else was hiding in the room. “..Why?” 

A smirk spread across your face, just like you thought. His red face was honestly so enjoyable to see, almost just as enjoyable as seeing him try to hide how hard he was.

“I know you’re hard, Shigaraki.” Your hands moved to his crotch, palming him. “Ah, ah! Wait! I’m—“  Holy shit, did he cum? Just from a bit of palming?

Your hands retracted from the damp fabric, “God, how pathetic can you be?” Shigaraki lowered his head, you didn’t want to know. You’re the first girl to ever touch him, he didn’t want to come that fast!

“I’m sorry! Please.. I’m still hard!” Now he’s begging? He was ready for you to laugh at him and leave him a gross mess. He would understand.

“Take it out.” Shigaraki could cry right there, you were serious! He didn’t know what made you want to do this now but he didn’t care. All that matter’s was you wanted to fuck him.

His mind flooded to what you guys could do, would you rub his now exposed dick? Would you take it in your mouth? Better yet, what could he do to you? He’ll learn quickly, he just wants to touch your boobs!

Suddenly, he was on the floor. He couldn’t even process what was going on before you straddled him. We’re skipping straight to it? This wasn’t necessarily what he saw in those porn videos but that’s okay. His hands moved to your chest, he saw this in the porn videos too! But your hand slapped his away, “Don’t touch me. You still stink.” 

He frowned but it was quickly gone as he felt you lower yourself on him. Shit, shit, shit, he’s inside you! Inside a pussy! You already started moving and Shigaraki already lost it. This was better than what he could ever imagine! 

You smirked at the scene, its barely been a minute and he’s out of it. His eyes were rolled back and he was moaning louder than you! You had to admit though, you were a bit surprised he even got past 30 seconds of being inside of you. 

“Mhmm— m...mommy!” Now you could laugh, “Mommy? Really Shigaraki?” Tears were forming on the corner of his eyes, you weren’t sure if it was from your words or the pleasure but you preferred if it was from both.

“I’m sorry! It’s just— ah!” You angled yourself to hit deeper, “No, no, Shigaraki. Go ahead. I should’ve known you’d be into something like that.” His moans filled the room, you were lucky this hallway was always empty after school was done.

You felt him begin to twitch, already knowing he’s about to cum. Eyes narrowed down at his messy face, he’s trying to cum inside you without you knowing? 

You stopped moving and brought him up so he wasn’t laying down anymore, “Y’know, for a virgin I’m a bit impressed.” Shigaraki whimpered when he felt you get off of him, the feeling of your warm cunt no longer around him.

“Wait! Please, please— I wasn’t done!” He whined watching you put your panties back on and button your shirt back up, “You were about to. You think I want your battery acid cum touching me?” 

Snickering as he heard his desperate whimpers begging you to finish him off, an overwhelming feeling of power filled you. A fake annoyed sigh caught his attention, “Take a shower tomorrow. Also wear a different top for god’s sake. If you do— “You brought yourself to his level on the floor, “I might let you touch me.” 

Shigaraki nodded furiously, “Yes! I promise! I will, I will!” You turned and unlocked to the door to leave, catching one more look at his messy state. A sigh was let out of you as you closed the door, the sounds of him moaning ‘mommy’s pussy’ as he finished himself off, made you giggle. How sad.

You rolled your eyes, clicking heels down the hallway. You might’ve just created a new problem for yourself. 

[prettynxsty]

Just a Pinch

Sub!Jungkook x Domme!Reader

Warnings:  Sweat, nipple clamps, gratuitous nipple play, jungkook has a pussy, biting, sweat, small top/big bottom, futa/girlcock, sadists will get a good kick out of this, squirting, crying from pleasure

Summary: Instead of the overplayed “sub wears vibrator out in public”, it’s the sub wears nipple clamps while working out.

AN: This is a nasty one as usual my friends, enjoy. It’s damn near pwp, honestly.

Your teeth ground into your bottom lip, flicking your thumb back and forth as quickly as possible even though your knuckle was beginning to cramp. You take in a deep breath and your chest puffs up before slowly deflating with a sharp sigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You growled slamming your fist against the bed at your side.

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back with a groan from deep in his gut. “Oh my god, please.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme!” His voice rose into a squeal as his head dips forward.

A deeper growl rumbles in your chest before cutting short with a whoop of excitement. You threw the controller down beside where you were sitting, jumping off of the bed and onto your feet. “Yes! Now you need to make good on your end of the bargain baby!”

He covers his face with his hands, sighing before falling into a small fit of nervous giggled. “You can’t be serious babe.”

“Of course I am, it won’t be for that long anyway, you’ll be okay.” You tittered lightly, practically skipping toward your closet. “Go ahead and get ready, the faster you do it, the faster it’ll be over.

”He scratches the back of his neck, planting his feet on the floor and slinking toward the dresser across the room.

He peels his shirt up and over his head before balling it up and tossing it toward the hamper in the corner. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand over his pecs and down the planes of his rippling stomach. His fingers slip over his adonis belt, wiggling just slightly under the waistband of his black sweatpants.

He takes in a quick sigh, clenching around nothing. A spike of heat bursts and spreads in his stomach, he wondered if he should have been turned on before anything happened. He steps back from the dresser, hooking his fingers under the garment and works it down the swell of his thighs until it falls and piles up around his ankles.

He wiggles a socked foot out of the first leg hole and steps on it to free the other. This too sails through the air and lands in the hamper with a soft thump. He takes another glance at himself in the mirror.

He was a lovely shade of coffee with a few splashes of milk. He kissed his tan lines goodbye since your regularly scheduled maintenance days with him. In your days of boredom, you took it upon yourself to buy a nice waxing pot and clean his cunt of hair in places he had to (literally) bend over backwards to reach.

He thought you were going to do it somewhere like the bedroom or bathroom, but you figured that you may as well get good use of the rooftop. His pussy is easily nestled in between his tanned thighs, brown outer lips just barely hiding his sweet inner pink.

He hated that you refused to touch him until the next day, he could feel everything when you were done. Now that same time of the month was his favorite time for grooming.

Jungkook blinks, shaking himself from the vivid thought and pulls open the drawer. His underwear was neatly rolled up beside yours. He decides on a simple gray high cut thong, stretching it, stepping into it and slipping it up to his hips.

Normally he preferred to wear nothing, but he needed an extra barrier of protection for today. He pushes the drawer closed and pulls open the ones on the right and left of it. Simply, he grabs a sleeveless tee and pair of shorts. He dresses himself quickly and parks himself on the edge of the bed.

You return from the closet with a giddy smile, swinging something shiny around your fingers. Nipple clamps.

“Don’t look so happy to torture me,” he pouts.

“That’s your favorite part of it though, Junggoo~.” You made your way around the end of the bed and sat on his knees.

You reach up and cradle his cheeks, kissing him. The tension melts from his shoulders with the first and hang comfortably over his frame with the second.

“Now let’s see what’s under the hood,” your joke sails straight over his head and out of the window. He shakes his head, placing his hands on your thighs. You lift the bottom of his shirt and twist it under the collar, placing your hands over his chest.

Your fingertips trace over the swell of his taut mounds, goosebumps raise over his skin as you near his nipples. You hovered the tips of your thumbs over his nipples, admiring the rich rosy brown of his little areolas.

A moan rises in his throat, swallowed away noisily. Heat rises and exchanges between your bodies, you shift in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on your dick. His fingers curl around your thighs pulling you even closer to him. Your dick fit snugly against his lower belly and it was starting to drive you crazy.

He leans forward, slipping his head over the juncture of your shoulder and neck. His slow breaths crawl up your skin in a way that tempts you to shiver. Jungkook was familiar with the shadow inside of you, he knew how to make it burn. His lips press over the swell of your shoulder, sending shocks zipping through your body. You should’ve known better than to wear that tank top today.

You graze your thumbs over the hardened tips of his nipples. He moans against your skin, you played with them so much that he felt like he could feel each ridge in your prints. He seals his lips around the base of your neck, gently suckling and grinding his tongue against your skin. You pinch his nipples in between the length of your index fingers and thumbs harshly, tugging.

He jerks slightly, his teeth sinking into your flesh. You hiss, arching your back before releasing his nipples and pushing against his chest. Jungkook pulls back with a whine, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?”

You could hardly hide the fact that you were already breathless. “No, you aren’t going to weasel your way out of this one baby boy.”

The darker side of your mind was pleading for you to give in and make a mess of the bed sheets. But you knew that it’d make things filthier if you put him up to this.

You press a kiss to his pouting mouth, pulling back before he could deepen it. His brow knits together, he was already horny. He may as well make sure he didn’t get too far ahead of himself, it’d be harder to work out if he got wetter than he was now.

You slip the short chain from your knuckles, pinching open the first clamp. He seemed to be holding his breath as you pressed the chilly metal to his flesh before slowly releasing it. Jungkook throws his head back, gasping and biting down on his bottom lip. It was like a thick cloud rose and surrounded his brain, it was getting harder and harder to figure out what he was thinking.

You drag your tongue over your bottom lip with a dry swallow, you could already imagine the feeling of his pussy flexing around you. You lift the other end, the fire in your belly consumes you further when he twitches at the slightest shift of the first clip. You gently pinch the other clamp open and close it around his other nipple. He responds immediately with a drawn out breathy moan that makes your head spin.

You reach up slowly, unravelling his shirt from his collar and allow it to fall over his midsection. He looks down at you with these dark, cloudy eyes. “Can’t.. Can’t we..” He babbles as if the wind was knocked out of him.

“Come on, I’ll- I’ll go fill up your water bottle.” You tried to shake the slurring from your voice, planting your hand on the mattress and wiggling out of his grip.

The cold air of the hallway hits you like a freight train, bringing more cognizance to your mind. The heaviness between your legs was making you crazy, you hadn’t a clue how either of you would workout in this state.

You cross the way into your kitchen, it looked like the floor was blending into the walls. Grabbing your water bottles off of the drying rack, you fill them to the brim with ice and water.

Eventually Jungkook shuffles out of your bedroom with a dizzy, distant air in his eyes. He was red from his cheeks to his ears, and the sides of his neck. It was like he was wasted already, he seemed to be moving slowly to reduce the friction of the shirt over his nipples. The chain sat just right, as it didn’t really jingle as he walked.

He must’ve struggled to slip on the backpack, stopping beside you. You’d make it a little easier on him, choosing to carry your drinks instead of adding more weight to the bag on his back.

“Let’s go, we’ll be home the faster we go.”

He nods slowly, heading toward the door.

_

During your short walk around the corner to the gym, he spoke up suddenly. “I won’t have to do everything, will I?”

“Everything but squats, the bench, and deadlifts, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He huffs, looking down at you like a kicked puppy. You didn’t miss how his eyes gained a glassy tinge.

“I’ll do everything you want me to when we get home, my pretty boy.” You muttered low enough for him to hear, pushing open the door with your shoulder.

_

“How are you doing, baby?” You coo into his ear, wrapping your arms around his waist. Not a soul wandered the locker room aside the dust and water droplets where they weren’t supposed to be.

“I’ll give you a treat,” you whispered. Your work your hand under his shorts, pushing your fingers past his thong easily. He makes a soft, pretty noise when you cup his pussy.

He leans his weight back against you, jerking with a grunt when your thumb grazes over the sticky hood of his clit and passes over his blood swollen love button.

“Just want you to fuck me,” he whines, trying to squirm away from your rough thumb. It was too much for him, he could cum right now.

“Too much?” You ask gently, receiving a nod in response. You knew better than to let up now, pinching his hood and jerking the little pink sleeve. He made a noise like he was punched in the gut, hands clutching your forearms. His hands were shaking, but he was too desperate to push them away.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cu- unh!” He pants, thrashing his head against your shoulder as you pinch it. You take a deep breath in, retracting your hand and licking your fingertips.

He slumps back against you with a disappointed groan, struggling to catch his breath.

“Let’s go, I need to reward you.” Your voice was dark, moving to take the backpack out of the locker. You helped him ease it onto his shoulders and dragged him out of the locker room. You were given a few funny looks, but you hardly noticed them through the haze settling around your mind.

_

He all but wobbled his way to the bedroom by himself, leaving a trail of things behind him. Jungkook absolutely needed out of everything on his body at that moment. You followed him into the bedroom, watching from the doorway as he clumsily peeled off his sopping wet panties and nearly fell during the process.

“Take them off,” his voice breaks with a shiver crawling up his waist and shaking his shoulders. He makes a pitiful noise, squeezing his thighs together as he clumsily sits on the end of the bed. The thin chain lightly sways with the motion of his poor attempts to control his breath.

You wondered if you should try this more often, he never broke this quickly. You move across the room to sit on his knees as you had before. It felt like Jungkook’s skin was on fire, the slightest sensation made his hair stand up even straighter. His nails clumsily scratch at your skin, shoving his hands over the waistband of your shorts.

He couldn’t be bothered to fumble with anything, whining with a sob as the mesh of your clothing brushes over his thighs. “Off, off please!” He fusses in a strained voice.

You rose as quickly as you began to lower yourself, he was enveloping you in the same haze as before. Your lower belly spasms with a particularly aggressive twitch of your cock.

”Shit,” you growl under your breath. You yank away your shorts and nearly deflate with relief when your dick springs to full attention. Your sanity dissolved into ash bit by bit from feeling your glans scrubbing against the waistband when you moved around.

Jungkook clutches handfuls of the sheets under him, he couldn’t touch himself if he wanted. He’d scream because it was too much. His bottom lip trembled. It looked like he was practically flushed from head to toe, a heavy tear escaping the barrier of his thick lower lashes. It splatters over his collarbone, it’d evaporate if his body was any warmer.

You yank your shirt over your head and kick it aside with your other clothes, rushing toward him. You began to lower yourself to your knees, stabilizing yourself with hands on his trembling thighs.

He made another high pitched noise to fuss at you, he was so far gone that he just couldn’t control himself. Jungkook leans forward, wrapping his hands around your hips before lifting you onto his lap. You make a noise of exclamation, placing your hands on his shoulders in a weak attempt to register what just happened.

He pushes his chest toward you, sniffling. Another tear slips from the corner of his eye,  dancing over his cheekbone before slipping under his jaw.

“Baby,” you croon and stroke his hair. You gently curl a fingertip under the chain, lifting it slowly. This squeezes a few squeaks out of him, swelling into a squeal when you tug slightly.

You gently place your fingertips on the first clamp, squeezing it open and pulling it away from his stress. Jungkook’s forehead drops against your shoulder in relief, pressing weak kisses of gratitude over your breasts.

He grips your cock with both hands, slowly jerking your flesh up and down. You groan, resting one of your hands in the center of his pecs as you blindly feel around for the second clamp. Your fingertips cascade over his flushed bud, causing him to seize up. His grip tightens in a way that raises the gentle drip of your precum into a syrupy faucet.

You were likely already starting to drip over his fingers. His grip slowly relaxes, regaining his steady pattern. You press the tip of your thumb and index finger over the ends of the clamp, pinching it open and allowing the chain to drop between you.

You stroke your fingers over the back of his neck. “Let me see them,” you whisper with warmth and conviction. That tone of voice always sends his head into a spiral, he seemed to struggle to lift his head.

He shakily circles his thumb around your tip, spreading your precum all over his finger. You seize up, growling through clenched teeth. Jungkook quickly returns to stroking you firmly, he couldn’t stand the thought of you being unable to touch him.

You lean forward gingerly, dragging the tip of your nose through the cleft of his pecs. You tongue lolls out of your mouth, carefully resting on the edge of his areola before flicking upward.

He almost jerks away, sighing sharply. It was like you held the metal of a used lighter to his skin. It was enough to wipe what little thought remained in his head in a flash.

You tilt your head toward the other, slowly swirling the tip of your tongue toward the center of his nipple. He trembles below you, utilizing what strength remained to stay still.

“Want you to fuck me,” he croaks.

You glance up at him with a smile, nodding to oblige.

You plant a hand, carefully shifting yourself off of him and further onto the mattress. “Get on the middle of the bed, knees.

”He took his time to move, slowly twisting and crawling on. You reach to the left, yanking open the nightstand drawer with a flick of your wrist. You rip open the tube of lube, nearly breaking the loose plastic hinge of the cap. You squeeze a fat globule at the base of your cock, smearing the excess over the side of your lower belly before snapping it shut and shoving it back away.

You nearly forget to shut the drawer, pushing it closed with your ankle before crawling toward him. “Turn around.”

He plants his hands and crawls until he’s facing away from you, leaning back on his haunches.

Your dick prods the cleft of his ass as you seat yourself behind him, swiping your fingers through the thick, clear jelly. You do a messy job of lathering yourself up, leaning forward and slipping your dick under him.

You spread your index and middle fingers, smearing some of the lube over his pussy lips. He opened up like a pretty little flower, his cunt was already lush and puffy.

You drag the crook of your finger over his clit hood, coaxing a soft keen out of him. You press your fingers together, slipping them over his inner pink and press them into his hole. This time it was your turn to moan, his pussy swallowed your fingertips with ease.

He arches his back, molding against you with a whine. God, it felt so good but he wanted more. More than that. His inner velvet flutters around your fingers in a way that makes your toes curl already.

You work them in and out for a few strokes before you couldn’t stand it any longer. You wrap your hand around your cock, momentarily lowering yourself to press against his pussy. He slumps heavily against you with a coo when your cock begins to spread him open.

“Ooh,” you hiss, steadying yourself by moving your other hand to his stomach. Reaching the hilt, you shift your grip to clasp both of his forearms as leverage. The first thrust makes a filthy noise, excess lube squishing around your length.

To this, you lose yourself in him. You piston your hips forward, using him like the warm, wet hole he is. You fuck into him with reckless abandon. His voice is high, shaking with breathy and noisy squeals.

He does his best to refrain from squirming in your hold, thighs twitching with the urge to close. The room before him was a blur of shapeless splashes of color, it amazed him how you could get even deeper when he was on his back. Jungkook felt ridiculously full, his head dropping forward, babbling slurred expletives.

Your thighs burn, you knew he came by the way he started to flutter and squeeze around you. You could feel it barreling toward you, wrapping one of your arms over his hips to keep him steady.

You shift a hand, flicking your finger over his swollen nipple. His voice reaches a new pitch, thrashing his head around in a futile attempt to remain on this plane of existence.

“No! Gonna-” he tried to squeal, digging deep half moons into his thighs. You set your teeth tightly, your balls slap against his skin as you ground deeper. It felt like he was going to wring you dry.

You lean back for him to slump his weight against you fully and attack his other nipple with a harsh pinch. His shout catches in his throat, his head thumping against the thick of your shoulder.

Your control is carried away by the wind, the noise you make is ungodly when you cum. You couldn’t lose steam, his cum cakes up with yours as you plunge in. It felt like your sanity was melting out of your ears.

You roll the tips between your fingers, scrubbing them back and forth with your middle fingers. Something inside him broke, his jaw snapping shut as he began to shake uncontrollably.“Gnh, ah!” He grits out, his squirt splashing around your cock and splattering over the sheets.

Oh. Oh. You slow your thrusts with a breathless chuckle before allowing your softening cock to slip out of him with a wet plop. You’re met with a noisy sniffling, stroking your hands over his trembling stomach.

You shift your weight onto one knee and lay down behind him. “Shhh, shhh..” You continue to stroke your hand over his belly as the shocks become weaker and weaker.

The tension in his body takes a few minutes to melt away before he can fully sink into the mattress, timidly scooting back for you to fully spoon him.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

You hadn’t made a mess like that in a while, but you supposed he might have needed it as much as you. You’d soak in the bath later with him.

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[andypantsx3]

say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

[heyitssmiller]

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

.

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

           Hi!

           I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

-        Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

           Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

-        The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

-        Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

           You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

-        Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

           Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

-        The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.