#its a drabble really

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

your boyfriend has a little habit of being sort of..spacey. or at least he looks like he is.

despite his..ditzy and aloof appearance. shouto is very acutely aware of his surroundings.

especially when you’re in said surroundings.

he’s walking along the hallways with his friends, they’re chatting about everything and nothing, school and about the results of their last test. shouto doesn’t feel the need to interject, happy to simply listen and respond when he’s spoken to. except his mind is also kind of elsewhere at the moment because even in there he’s looking for you.

no matter what he’s doing, shouto todoroki has a piece of you in his mind. if his friends are worrying about their test results he’s perfectly fine, cus he studied with you. the letters he sends to his mom talk about his daily life, with little details about you sprinkled in. his father is trying to coerce him into coming to his agency again, shouto thinks it’d be a lot more enjoyable if you were with him.

you’re not with them right now, because mr. aizawa had asked you to send in some papers to the teacher’s lounge. you said you’d catch up with your friends as soon as possible and shouto’s listening, he really is. but he’s also scanning the crowd hoping to catch a little glimpse of you.

“what about you, todoroki ?”

shouto blinks, hearing his name come out of his freckled friend’s lips as he blinks at him expectantly with a smile. ochaco and iida also seem to be awaiting a response.

okay, so maybe he hadn’t been listening as well as he claimed..

“i’m sorry. i didn’t catch that last part, what were you saying ?” he asks bluntly, midoriya doesn’t mind and he repeats “i was asking you how you think your test went.” he chirps, shouto hums thinking about the question.

“i studied well for it, so i think it went well,” his friends hum, iida congratulates him for staying focused on his academics, waving his hand around in chopping motions.

and of course, shouto is always looking for you, so nobody’s surprised when he adds “yn also helped me study, so i think i’ll be..”

everyone is surprised though when he suddenly trails off. and without another word shouto walks ahead of his friends further down the crowded hallway. the lack of “oh, give me a second.” or “ i’ll be right back.”, the lack of anything stuns the three students so hard they freeze into place. they wonder what could’ve made him speed off in such a hurry, until ochaco gets a good look and points towards the dual haired boy.

ah, shouto’s found you.

you’re surprised to see him, your eyes widen “oh, hey sho !” he returns your greeting, his face hasn’t really changed from an outsiders point of view, but he leans in towards you the moment the words leave your lips and his whole face has gone soft, almost pudgy when you smile at him.

“i didn’t except to see you, you scared me !”

he blinks at that, shock settles onto his face as he bows his head in shame “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to..” simple, but earnest and it makes you melt.

“oh no, no ! you just popped up outta nowhere and it surprised me is all, got nothing to be sorry about.” you reassured, shouto’s expression changes and he returns, nodding happily.

“i missed you.”

you snort “i was gone for at most 10 minutes, shouto.”

“it was 11 minutes. and i missed you during that one extra minute, too.” if he had a tail, it’d be wagging at the speed of sound the way his face brightens when you laugh. you call him unbelievable and a small smile grows on his face

he’s just about to ask if you need help with your bag when you suddenly wave behind him. at your friends, who all share a sort of teasing, but also absolutely not surprised look.

oh, woops..

[rafeandonlyrafe]

orange peel theory (dark! and soft!rafe)

words: 1k (about 500 words each)

warnings: name calling, suggestive

orange peel theory: girlfriends ask their boyfriend to peel an orange for them, as a test to see if they are willing to help with small tasks that the girlfriend can do herself

dark

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions, looking at you with concern, not sure if he’s ever seen you read before.

“nothing.” you shake your head, shutting the book and setting it down, glancing at your phone to make sure it is still recording. “how was work?”

“fucking tiring. dealing with idiots all day.” rafe spits the words out before toeing his shoes off and leaving them in the center of the room.

“im sorry.” you pout, standing up as rafe takes a seat on the edge of the bed. you move to stand in between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his lips. he sighs with satisfaction, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, rubbing over them, tucking his fingertips under your shorts to feel your bare skin.

“can you get me an orange rafe? i’m craving one.” you move away from him, setting back on your chair to make sure you are centered in the camera.

rafe gives you a confused look but nods, mainly because he also needs to get a glass of water for himself. he re-enters the room, tossing the orange towards you, which you catch easily.

“thanks.” you smile as rafe takes a sip of water and then sets it on the nightstand. “can you peel it for me though babe?”

“what?” he questions, moving to kneel between your legs, an amused look on his face. “my stupid little slut not able to peel it on her own? too much of a baby?” “rafey.” you whine as he takes the orange out of your hand, unpeeling it and tossing the peel into the trash. he pulls a piece and then hovers it in front of your mouth.

“open up whore, i know how much you love to do that.” rafe taunts you before you lean forward, taking the slice of orange into your mouth and pulling it out of his fingers, letting the citrusy taste flood your mouth.

“you are so mean, this was supposed to be for tiktok.” you point out your phone, making rafe turn to look at the screen opened and recording.

“what?”

“for tiktok, its some trend about asking your boyfriend to peel an orange for you to see if he will do small tasks for you, and you totally failed!” you whine, stamping your feet on the ground in annoyance.

“but i peeled the orange for you.” rafe says with confusion.

“while also calling me a stupid whore!” you stand up, grabbing your phone and stopping the recording, knowing you won’t put it on tiktok.

“are you not my dumb little slut?” rafe asks, standing and stepping close to you, hovering over with his intimidating height.

“i mean i am, but-”

“exactly.” rafe cuts you off, pressing his lips against yours as he backs you up towards the bed.

soft

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“hey baby.” rafe leans down and gives you a kiss on the top of your head, which you quickly tilt up to have him press a second one to your lips.

“how was work?” you ask, setting your book to the side, glancing at your phone to make sure its still recording.

“exhausting.” rafe sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, making you pout.

“im sorry bubs.” you comment as he sits down on the bed to take his work shoes off. 

“no big deal. how was your day?” rafe asks.

“good…” you shrug. you usually go into more detail, and rafe knows it, so he sits quietly, waiting for you to continue. “but i’m actually really hungry.” you blurt out, figuring you shouldn’t delay any longer as you look at your phone again, lucky that rafe doesn’t follow your line of sight.

“what are you hungry for? we can order delivery.” rafe knows you like to cook, but he also doesn’t force it on you, leaving the option to get takeout open whenever you are tired or simply don’t feel like cooking.

“i actually just want an orange.” you shrug.

“thats not really food, darling, but okay.” rafe stands, setting his shoes on the rack next to the door before heading out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.

you can’t help smiling at the camera as you wait, covering your mouth as rafe reenters, already knowing that he’s going to pass the test.

“here ya go.” rafe hands you a bowl instead of an orange, making your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, before you take it and realize that the orange is already peeled and pulled apart, ready for you to enjoy.

“raaafe.” you whine.

“what?” rafe kneels down in front of your chair, placing his hands on your knees.

“i wanted a whole orange.” you complain, pouting your lower lip out as rafe looks at you in complete confusion.

“why, were you gonna eat the peel or something?” rafe laughs.

“no, its supposed to be a thing for tiktok.” you point towards your phone, which takes rafe a second to see from its hidden position. “you’re supposed to bring me an orange and i ask you to peel it to see if you’ll help me with a small task.”

“should i bring you back a whole orange then so you can ask?” rafe questions.

“no, i don’t even really want an orange to be honest.” you admit. rafe looks down into the bowl, taking a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing it up. 

“what do you want then honey?”

“can you get me a banana?” you tilt your head to the side. rafe nods, grabbing the bowl from your lap before heading back to the kitchen.

you grab your phone and set it closer. “he’s just too good of a boyfriend.” you sigh as rafe comes back through the door, handing you a banana.

you smile at him in thanks, taking it out of his hand before he leans to press a kiss to your cheek, glancing at the camera, still recording when you realize how you can still test the theory.

“peel it for me babe?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

he’s staring.

in the corner of your eye lies a silhouette, a blur of black hair and sharp facial features. awfully hard not to notice, when he’s standing so close to you — gazing at you so intently. waiting for you to say something.

(resisting the urge to look at him directly is a struggle.)

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, something giddy and sweet flooding your veins. he’s just standing there. all while you tap at the keys of your laptop, trying to focus on your work. in vain.

because, inevitably, the rubber band of your patience snaps — and you can do nothing but give in to the temptation. feeling him shift from foot to foot, silent as a mouse. you turn your head.

suguru looks meek.

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him. 

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ”everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh. 

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you. 

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly. 

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down. 

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him. 

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?” 

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy. 

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate. 

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be. 

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy. 

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.” 

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words. 

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit? 

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?” 

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust. 

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.” 

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute. 

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room. 

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up. 

you blink. 

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed. 

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?” 

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean. 

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being. 

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on. 

he’d rather die than deny you. 

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. 

no choice at all.

[ruenii]

i had this idea where Tim has cuteness aggression and is just so bad at conveying it (well not like batman level but you get the point) that sometimes people mistake his cuteness aggression face as a 'im gonna punt you six feet under' face and tim is confused when his brothers or his friends get scared when he just wants to squish em cause they're sososo cute.

his family (except for dick and cass) doesn't know about this so they just think that 'oh god-- oh myfucking gofd-- tim is glaring at me again what the fuck-- what did i do???' and is just scared of what they did to cause tim, THE CALM ONE, to glare at them.

but tim is just:

tim, [on the inside]: awWWWW lOOK AT MY BABY BROTHERS!!! THEY'RE SO CUTE!! I WANNA PAT THEM ON THE HEAD!!! I WANNA SPOIL THEM I WANNA BITE THEIR CHEEKS LOOK AT THEM AWWWEEE I WANNA SQUISH THEM SO HARDD!! NO-- NO THEY WON'T LIKE THAT I HAVE TO STAY CALM!! ENDURE THE URGE TO PINCH THEM!! 🥺🥺

tim, [on the outside]: *glares at them like they just burned his entire supply of coffee and caffeinated drinks and disgust*

duke: did... did i do something--

tim: *clenches his fist*

damian: don't be such a coward, drake, using physical cues to convey your emotions are unbecomi--

tim: *walks out of the room*

duke & damian: ...

duke: oh fuck... did we make his mood even worse?

damian: surely drake hasn't been... affected by that *his body clearly shaking*

dick: don't worry timmy isn't angry at you guys :)

jason: i can hear him screaming what do you mean he isn't angry

dick: he's just... letting out some pent-up frustration..

[minhosimthings]

Good Girl: A Heeseung smut drabble

Pairings: Heeseung × Virgin!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, oral (both recieving and giving), swearing, Reader is heavily referred to as 'good girl' MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: I don't know where this drabble came from I definitely did not write it at one am in the morning it's just magic. But it's not entirely my fault! Blame @heeliopheelia (who I hope doesn't mind me tagging her) for encouraging me! Also dis marks my third smut work and my second one for Enha after my Jay drabble. so yay milestone I guess. I SWEAR I'LL WORK ON THE HYUNJIN FIC LATER

And yet again, the amazing playboy Lee Heeseung had convinced another girl to let him take her virginity. Except this time it was a girl whom he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with instead of just some dumb one night stand. He had asked you, very gently if you wanted to do the deed one day, and he was pleasantly surprised to find out you were 'pure' in his terms. To say that he was excited was an understatement. Oh he was escstatic when you told him that you wanted to do it. So you let him take it. Take the only thing you've had for your entire life. Your 'pureness', in his words.

"Lay down for me baby." Heeseung gently put you down on the bed after carrying you from the couch, even though you insisted you could just walk up. But Heeseung wouldn't ever give his princess anything less than princess treatment, so there was no budging there.

"Oh wow are those-?" Heeseung stared down at your waist, which was bejeweled with the baby pink lingerie he had gotten you last week as a gift for getting through the week without having a mental breakdown. "I-I thought you'd like it." You stuttered out to him, at which point Heeseung melted into a puddle, seeing his good girl be so fucking innocent for him. "Take off your bra for me please baby." He said as he grinded his hardened cock against the soft silk of your panties. You took off the bra without hesitation and grabbed his hair as he lightly squeezed your exposed tits, bending down to your ear. "We're gonna try something new today, ok baby?" You let out a silent mewl in response to his pretty voice whispering in your ears. He started leaving a trail of wet kisses, beginning from your collarbone all the way down to your hip. "Hee- Hee what are you doing?" You asked, trying to keep your moans in. "Don't worry babe." He smirked up at you. "You'll enjoy this. Just try not to moan so much alright? Don't want the neighbours to know what we're doing do we?" You could only whine in response as Heeseung grabbed the elastic of your panties and ripped them off with his teeth, making your legs shiver, which in turn made Heeseung's cock hard, as to how his innocent girl didn't know what he was about to do. "Hee- Heeseung wha- Oh fuck!" Whatever Heeseung had done to your pussy with those pretty little lips of his was enough to make you scream out in pleasure. The grip on your lilac bedsheets tightened as Heeseung gave kitten kisses to your squirming pussy. "Do you like that baby?" Heeseung smirked up at you. "Does my good girl want this more?" "Heeseung- ngh- please!" You moaned at him, tightening your legs around his head, making him moan with you. He attacked your cunt again with his tongue this time, sweeping fast between your folds, only making you moan louder. Heeseung was in heaven, stuck in the ever tightening grip between your gorgeous legs. He slowly drank up your juices, as you whined, loosening your grip on his hair, now that he had slowed down a bit.

"The way this pussy tastes-" Heeseung panted, wiping his mouth and rising to your level' "-makes me think you aren't really my good girl. Are you my good girl baby?" He had stopped eating you out, like a madman and was now taunting you. If there was one thing Lee Heeseung craved for, it was seeing his good little girl's eyes roll to the back of her pretty head and for incoherent words to stumble out of her pretty mouth. "Want-to be-your good girl Seungie." You mumbled, not having anything in your orgasm-drunk brain except for your boyfriend's (read: future husband) beautiful face dangling above yours.

"Do you want to give your daddy pleasure baby?" He shot you that hot smirk again. "Do you want to pay him back?" "I-I don-dont know how to, daddy." You whimpered, widening your eyes. So fucking innocent, Heeseung internally laughed.

"It's alright baby." He stroked your hair gently and kissed your forehead before plopping onto the bed next to you. "I'll teach you. Get on top of me first." You obeyed his commands, like a lamb obeying a wolf, and swiftly got on top of him, while he took off his belt. You tried not to stare at his cock as he slowly removed his tight fit jeans, and cupped your face in his hands, taking in the way you gently stroked his abs.

"Now-" he growled as you bent down to his mouth. "bend down to my cock and put it in that cute mouth of yours." "Wha-" "Do it." He commanded once again, voice firm and strict and unlike the babying one he usually used with his good girl.

"Now suck my dick baby just like the good girl you always were." Heeseung spread his legs far apart as you shivered a bit and gripped onto the bedsheets.

"Oh fuck baby." Heeseung softly moaned as you lightly kissed his hardening cock. "Ahh fuck ahh shit." Heeseung pulled your hair ever so slightly and shoved your head deeper in almost choking you. Choking kink came in handy right? "You sure you haven't done this before?" Heeseung chuckled and moaned again, tightening his legs around you. You could get intoxicated on the noises coming out of his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat and his hands pulling your hair roughly. "Oh fuck I'm gonna cum" Heeseung voice rang out. "Take my cum baby. Swallow my cum like a good girl. That's all you are aren't you? My good girl. My good little girl." Heeseung let out a gasp, as you licked up his juices, and kissed his cock again and again, too drunk on everything happening. All you could see was Heeseung's pleasured face, praising you, and then you were lost in your cock-drunk limbo.

And the night faded away just like that as Heeseung got the best head of his life, as payment for giving you, something that you will beg for again In the coming days. Beg, like a pathetic good girl.

[astr0star5]

“𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟!! (≧∇≦)/ !! ”

shohei haizono x reader

warning: might be ooc, suggestive, and consumption of alcohol (shots).

It was a Friday night, or atleast from what you could remember. What you do know is that you, Leo (surprisingly) and Sho were playing truth or dare, at your "dorm". It started off as just playing video games and watching movies and then Leo suggested to play truth or dare with a twist. Because they were "adults" now he wanted to include taking shots into the classic truth or dare game.

The game is simple 2 or more players gather around a bottle. One of the players spins it, and whoever the bottle lands on asks one of the players, "Truth or Dare." When the player chooses if they don't want to answer the question or do the dare, depending on what level of intensity it was, the Player takes 3 or more shots.

Clearly, he was just tryna get drunk (and both him and sho aren't allowed outside of DarkWick because one of them was slacking on a mission, so he couldn't go to a club this was the best alternative).

This whole time, Leo had literally been making it hell for both you and Sho whenever the bottle lands on him. If you choose dare, it's something so embarrassing you're not gonna do, and if you choose truth, it's a question you don't want to answer. So, as of right now, you're the drunkest person in the room.

You're starting to get all giggley and smiley and stuff. It's so obvious that mentally, you're not even on earth anymore. Leo leaves the room for a bit because bathroom break, you guess. It's your turn to spin the bottle, but you don't want to wait for Leo to get back. As soon as you spin the bottle, it's surprising it ends up on you.

You smile and giggle to yourself as you slopishly point over to sho. "Truth...or dare?" Sho thinks for a second before responding with "Dare." To which you reply with a giggle "Take your shirt off!! ♡"

Did you really just say that? Sho blinks twice before replying dumbfounded awkward smile on his face. "You're joking, right?" You aggressively shake your head 'no'. "I mean, it's getting hot in here...so I'm jus tryna help you out, bro."

Sho sighs before doing as requested, and he takes his white t-shirt off, leaving him in only his pants. To which you excitedly clap as if you just won the lottery (he found it kinda cute). "You look so hot under all that, Sho!" "Thanks, I guess..."

You slowly got a little bit closer before stopping, "Can I touch them?" Sho rolled his eyes and sighed, "Whatever..." You smile with glee as you pounce on him like an animal. Too focused on touching his abs, you fail to realize how close you guys are right now. You have yet to even look at Shos' face, if only you saw how red he was.

"What the fuck." An phone camera flashes the both of you. "Are you really tryna fuck that NPC...Sho I literally only left for five minutes. Control your urges." He placed a hand on his hip, looking disgusted.

"Leo tell me you did not just take a photo..." "OH wow, look at the time. Gotta go bye!" Never in your life have you ever saw someone run so fast. Sho softly pushes you off him and instantly gets up and starts chasing Leo at 3x the speed Leo was going.

You take a good look at where you were and take in everything around you before sighing, "He left his shirt :(."

a/n: this has got to be the corniest thing I have ever written, and I might delete this later 💀

[chimerahyperfix]

This loop has to be the one. Nevermind that you said it last loop, and the one before, and the one before that, and most of the ones before that. THIS was the one you'd stop the King in his tracks. You push a few of your many potions to the side to make room on your desk. None of them worked to stop him, so they were useless. He's still about twelve, fourteen? hours away, so you have enough time to make the bomb, eat and take a fat nap before you go pick a fight. Maybe this time, it'll work! It has to!

You've gotten better at making the Craft Bomb. It hasn't blown up on you before you intended to use it in... a long time. You can make it fast enough, now, for it to still be light outside! You've become silent while you work, which Mirabelle has told you is ''worrying'', but you don't see why it is. Are you really that loud? (Yes. You are.)

It's hard work. Soft light bathes your desk, your work, you. You reach out, past your potions, and grab your water bottle. Take a big swig, and

Hmm. That's not water.

How. HOW do you keep making this mistake. You look at the bottle in your hand, and sure enough, it’s one of the potions; your water bottle is shoved in the back of the collection of other containers. The taste is caustic, your throat begins to burn. You shouldn’t be this calm for having just drank something that’ll kill you in a handful of minutes, but it’s happened before. Despite the pain you don't bother trying anything. Just push the finished bomb to the side and lay your face against the wood of the table. Feel the blood start to pool in your mouth and dribbling out, staining the wood. Mirabelle, or Euphie or whoever comes in next, they can use it this loop. It's not the first time you've drank one of the many, many dangerous potions on your desk, and it's probably not the last. Maybe you'll actually clean the crabbing thing off before you work.

Whatever. You have next time. You have all the time.

Perhaps a bit too much, actually.

[paint-it-red-and-black]

"oh, Charles, you're such an angel."

Max hears it often. he picks up the phrases chirped by the girls around. it was said by fans, PR managers and once he had even heard it from a Ferrari mechanic. and Max totally and utterly disagrees.

Charles is no angel. on and off the track.

he is a bloody menace.

because angels don't look like that. with a slight squint when there's a storm brewing in the depths of green eyes in the middle of a sunny day.

angels don't get so angry you're afraid to approach. angels don't hold grudges. angels are quick to forgive.

angels don't smile like that. smirking, a little arrogant, covering it with their innocence. and showing a little of the soft tip of the tongue between their teeth.

angels are measured. they take their time. they are neat and tidy. they never make a mess of crumpled sheets and clothes.

angels are gentle. angels never squeeze skin until it bruises, bite until it darkens, or pull hair so hard it brings tears to the eyes.

and even more so, angels don't moan. not painfully, but sweetly, like melted chocolate with marzipan that leaves marks on your fingers. hot. frank. naked. absolutely wasted.

angels don't expose their necks, don't bare collarbones, giving more space for someone’s lips to leave marks.

angels don't press closer, scratching back until it’s bleeding. angels don’t choke on passion and never create their own.

but he falls asleep in the most angelic way. with his nose against Max's neck and the blanket pulled up to his eyes. he throws an arm and a leg over the body next to him, pulls closer, smiles warmly, and lowers his long fluffy eyelashes.

people easily fall for it.

"oh, Charles, you're such an angel."

but Max knows that Charles isn't an angel at all. he's a real demon in the flesh. but it's much easier to love him like that.

[sotwk]

I just ran across a fic drabble (Tumblr tag recommendation) that was less than 500 words of pure PWP smut and it had over a thousand notes.

Never saw a more convincing argument to stop using kudos/like counts as a sign of fic quality.

[nixoon-again]

The idle hum of the fluorescent lights is all that resonates in his sensitive ears. 

Distantly, he recognizes that he's been sitting in the same position for too long. Long enough that the light seeping through the  window somewhere to his right isn't as warm and golden in its hue anymore. He realizes that night time has fallen upon the bustling city of Station Square and perhaps it's late enough for everyone to be leaving for their homes and settling in for sleep after a nice warm meal.

Even more distantly, if that is even possible for his current almost disassociated situation, he realizes that he should be asleep too. Of course his rest doesn't have much to do with the time and the shift in the sky's colours or the quiet city just beyond these walls. He never fell into slumber with the sun, working late at nights for hours without breaks sometimes left him no opportunity for sleep at all. He doesn't mind it though, he likes working. Even if it costs him a bit of rest, he'd rather have his work done sooner than later. Maybe that's what he needs right now. Something to work on will be much better to distract his mind than the buzzing of the lights.

Unfortunately, as much as the idea entices him, he can't leave for his workshop just yet.

He doubts he'd be able to.

If his trembling legs don't give in under the weight of his body then the soul crushing grasp of something icy and sharp around his heart will certainly stop him.

So he stays where he is and listens to the buzz of the lights, of the footsteps as people walk by thin in numbers, as a clock ticks away in a distance — indicating that hours have passed but Tails can't get himself to count the ticks or look at the clock. He has worked hard to concentrate on the fluorescent lights, on their inner workings, their first discovery, their usage and why they're being used in hospital waiting rooms and everything he can think of about them on the top of his head in an attempt to ground himself but he's afraid if he looks at the time, he'll lose his progress and will be back where he begun; on the verge of curling up in a ball of fluff and crying his heart out until he passes out.

The waiting room falls deadly silent after a while — no more footsteps entertain his hearing range and Tails is afraid he's the last one left waiting for updates from the doctors.

This is a bit odd for him too, he hasn't been in this position many times aside from a few where one of their battles did get pretty out of hand but despite all of the adventures, they don't regularly show up at hospitals. Let alone sit in waiting rooms for hours on end, hoping and praying that someone will walk out of that door and tell him that everything is fine, he's fine, he's safe—

Do they even know he's here? 

Probably not.

Then again, technically, he isn't supposed to be here either. 

For all the doctors and nurses know, he's supposed to be asleep under the weight of all those painkillers in his hospital room.

But there's not much sleeping he can do, can he? 

Not when he doesn't know if Sonic's breathing again or—

Nope. No. Okay, let's not do that. Back to the lights. There's a moth that has started bumping into it repeatedly and he briefly wonders where it got in from since the windows appear to be closed and all. Briefly, since he doesn't ponder it for long. He lets his tired eyes — exhausted, red, getting heavier with every passing second and threatening to dampen — trail the insect's movements. It bumps into the light, circles about afterwards and then tries again and keeps repeating this cycle and maybe it's enough to distract him, even for a while. He's enraptured with the small creature's naïveté. 

He thinks, in a sense, he isn't that different from the moth. 

He just doesn't know if the waiting room is his light or is it his brother?

He's afraid to say it's the latter. 

Tails loves Sonic. 

He loves his brother more than anything in this world and he's been so sure that Sonic loves him just as much if not more too because that's just who they are. They are Sonic and Tails, they're brothers not bound by blood but something stronger — an unbreakable thread binding them both. They're a cosmic truth.

Yet Tails finds himself sitting here and questioning himself of that bond.

Sonic and Tails are to each other what a moth is to a flame.

They love each other.

But Tails is starting to see the flame get too close.

They'll burn.

And Tails is okay with burning if it's for Sonic, don't get him wrong. He'll do anything for Sonic. He's burnt for Sonic before, the bandages covering half his face and his right arm should be enough proof.

He's just afraid of burning Sonic.

He's afraid they've reached that point today.

Sonic is hurt because of him.

He's supposed to be the smart one, isn't he? Three hundred IQ and he couldn't have realized this sooner? Did he really need for today to come pass to know what the unbreakable bond truly means? Could he have spared Sonic the pain?

Tears prick at his eyes but Tails doesn't think he deserves to cry.

Not after what he did today.

Not after being the reason he almost lost his brother today.

(Worst of all; he still doesn't know if Sonic is okay.)

Tails finds it difficult to breathe around the lump in his throat.

Pathetic. Cry baby.

His own voice echoes in his mind, taunting.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself. He knows the solution to the moth and flame problem but he's certain Sonic will never agree to it. Sonic is too kind, too good, too generous. It will be cruel of Tails to know how to protect his brother and not do it, Sonic doesn't deserve that. 

Tails hurt Sonic.

The flame burnt the moth.

In order to not hurt Sonic anymore, Tails will simply snuff out the flame.

Even if his brother disagrees with him, Tails knows it's for the best.

(Quietly, distantly, his own heart disagrees with him too but he's too scared to listen to him.)

Another half an hour passes before a doctor walks out of the emergency room.

There's a hint of surprise on her face upon seeing him there — since he's supposed to be resting in his room and not be here — but she quickly moulds her expression into a more professional one before she delivers the news to him.

“He's awake.”

Even though Tails smiles, his ocean eyes tired and out of tears, he doesn't visit Sonic.

He doesn't visit Sonic for a long time.

[modernsapphicism]

i believe in a world where when reginas on her lowest of lows, she kinda hesitates on calling janis the one person she knows who wont sugarcoat any shit from her but she doesnt because of what happened to them.

and when the day comes where shes really desperate, she finally dials the number, hands shaking as she hears the line ring, actually afraid of getting rejected.

when janis picks up the phone in the middle of the night, sleep obvious in the tone of her voice as she greets a small 'hello?' and all regina could utter was "come over… please." in the smallest voice possible.

suddenly janis is up and running, confused as hell but all the hatred she has for the blonde slips away in that moment when she heard regina's voice.

a few minutes and a whole lot of running later, janis is standing in front of reginas doorway. she's hesitating to ring or knock, afraid to wake anybody else in the house. a beat passes and suddenly she hears a ping on her phone, a text which tells her the location of a spare key hidden near the pots, the same place it has always been all those years ago.

she reaches for the key and slides it into the lock, twisting the front door as quietly as she can. the scent of the home she frequents when they were younger hits her as memories come flooding in. she takes a moment and heads inside, closing the door gently before running upstairs.

she stood in front of the familiar wooden door, a million thoughts running on her mind. she knocks out of respect.

there was no answer for a few seconds until she hears a little bit of shuffling. the doorknob twists and reveals a very tired regina, her hair messy and unkempt tied in a messy bun, and her eyes swollen from crying, stray years still evident on her cheeks.

"you came," regina says, sadness and surprise laced in her voice.

"you called," was all janis could say as she stares at the blonde in front of her.

no other words were uttered and after a moment, regina steps aside and lets janis in, gently closing the door behind them.

[starstruckspocks]

jon?

Something is different, but he cannot be quite sure what, exactly.

Everything is… more linear than it was Before. He still Knows, quite in a way like he did Before, but it is finite, clear, manmade. It does not come from fear, but curiosity. A wide web of knowledge, rattling around in the dark of him, and what even is dark to a thing that cannot perceive it? A lack, perhaps, an unbeing, a noticable absence where there should be merely an ordinary kind of nothing.

He has a voice. And there is something he desperately, desperately needs to say, but there are no words that are his own, and every sentence he speaks he borrows, and they are each one of them painted with fear and confusion and loneliness and huntedness and a watchful eye.

He is also not alone, never alone. There are voices all around him, nice ones, chatting, making tea, fighting, changing, and only some voices stay the same, have been the same since… well, since when? Since when has he been… like this? It gets hard to think like this, sometimes – to assign a point in time to a moment and to file them away together. A collection of information, disorganised, lost, confused, perhaps deliberately so. It feels achingly familiar.

And sometimes, he hears something like himself speak in a different voice, even when he does not talk. And even though the words are borrowed too, taken from throats and fingers to be forgotten, they feel like coming home, simply because they were said in that soft, cruel tone. A familiar melody, slipping through wires and speakers and programmes like it was made for this, but it wasn’t, was it? It might’ve been.

And this brings him comfort, of course it does, except he must be trapped, right? Because why can he not say his own words, when he has so many of them? He is not lonely, but he is alone with the thoughts he cannot voice, the words that have no mouth, the things that cannot be said. It hasn't always been like that, has it?

Something is different Now from how it was Before, at least. He Knows everything, but he knows nothing of truth, and knows nothing at all, but the difference to What Was seems clear, in a clumsy, calculated way. Something is hiding, quite badly, behind a blurred vision that he does not have, behind lines of numbers and letters, running for its life through old wires. He knows it lingers, he knows it is there. He just cannot make it out quite yet.

[downbadforbadmen]

Okay, but the idea of true form!Sukuna x royal court painter! Reader has been gnawing at my brain for weeks now-

[palossssssand]

Reconciliation

Old dome squadmates Trito and Kinoga get together at Trito’s place to catch up after years apart and a meeting by chance on the surface.

⚠️Warning for suggestive content below + implied chest trauma

After several weeks of chipping away at this, the comic is finally done! Very happy to have rendered a full 7 pages of oc stuff. Please give it a read!!

read the full 7 page comic on twitter! <-please do not click if you are a minor and view at your own discretion, this link contains explicit 18+ content. Thank you!

For the lore, includes stuff from splatoon Octo Expansion: Trito and Kinoga were a part of an octarian military squad living in the domes, Kinoga being their squad leader that many looked up to and admired. There were 6 of them who considered each other to be their closest friends. Upon hearing about the tests from Kamabo Co. and the allure of the Promised Land, Kinoga wished to seek it out in order to find a better life for their squadmates. A difficult decision, since it meant leaving them all behind, promising to come back and take them there.

Kinoga enters the metro trials and soon realizes that the Promised Land isn’t what they expected, their hope crumbling when they encounter one of their sanitized squadmates Agara, who followed suit to the metros soon after. Kinoga narrowly escapes, eventually making a break for the surface, carrying the shame of unwilling to return for their squadmates with them (it’s justified, of course, there might not be an easy way in, they might get caught again, Agara is gone)

Trito enters the Metro not too long after Kinoga does, wanting to catch up to them, and an accident that occurs in a test early on results in Trito’s near sanitization, giving him his scar. Terrified, and realizing what happens to his fellow octolings, Trito is unable to return to his squadmates, not wanting to break the news of their loved ones’ untimely fates. He hides away on the Metro until the events of OE happen and Agent 8 dismantles Kamabo, opening an opportunity to escape to the surface. Unwilling to face the possibilities of going back, Trito takes his chance to leave, starting a new life and feeling that it’s for the best if he doesn’t acknowledge it, though he missed his friends dearly.

Years later, Trito and Kinoga run into each other on the streets of Splatsville by chance, and the implications of them both being on the surface and alive hit them, having to carry the burden of leaving their loved ones behind and finding out the truth, knowing the other felt exactly the same, not knowing the fate of their squadmates and not wanting to think about the possibility of them being gone. They have a tearful reunion about it, and set up a meet later, to sit down and really talk, and get into a brief argument when the topic of returning to the domes comes up. Trito’s in disbelief that Kinoga never went back down to check on the rest of their squad, wanting them to have been a better person than him, who was too cowardly to do so. Eventually they do reconcile, and end up at Trito’s place to hook up, where the above comic takes place :]

[thunder-point]

phumpeem ep 9 drabble

Phum is sure about his feelings. No question about it, for what were Fang's echoing words if not a solidified conclusion to whatever he was going through these past weeks?

So Phum is sure about his feelings.

What he's not sure about is Peem. It's the situation they are in. That's where uncertainty lies.

Because he can go ahead and let out everything. On his side, it's a stable fixture that keeps on rising. Letting Peem know he's adorable, telling him what a precious thing his company is to Phum - everything comes out smoothly. The air in his lungs gives voice to it like nothing else. His chest expands, it grows bigger, it warms up. But what is on Peem's mind, Phum can never tell. And since coming to this camp, it's become more obvious. It's pressing down on his chest, and this is the suffocating part. Not his crush for Peem, not the slow evolution of their relationship, if there's any at all. But Peem.

He'd have every right to find Phum as irritating as he did initially. Hell, there are still some moments where it looks like he currently does. There's the boulder, there's the pressure.

Because what right does Phum have to feel anything akin to deserving? What right would his jealousy have to exist? He can't stand it. He can't. He can't feel entitled to such feelings entirely. It's all too easy to give when it comes to Peem, and yet, he can't make himself go all out, can't try to meddle too much.

Something is holding him back, shoving until only the churning of his stomach is palpable. He might know what, even if it's hard to admit it. He spots Kluen and his sweet eyes and Phum can only turn away, can only try to ease the twinge in his chest. It's not entirely foreign, this feeling. He's had in the past; helplessness comes in many forms. It aches all the more that he's felt it for Peem before, all because of his own stupid actions. And even if he somehow mended that whole situation, this one doesn't seem to give him any opportunity to act. Phum feels like he doesn't have a part in it, in a way. As if he's a mere spectator on the sidelines. And he loves to push, he loves to taunt. He loves every reaction that Peem would offer, because it's always been offered. Peem would be turned towards him, eyes as liquid as they can be impudent, pretty mouth pursed or grinning wryly. Words sharp, annoyed, indulgent. But here, he's not. He's looking elsewhere, his voice is muffled.

Phum feels like a mere shadow in those moments - the solid ground is slipping beneath his feet, his assurance is questioned, his presence doesn't feel required.

He hates it. Hates it. He's maddened by it. He can't stand it.

And truly, he wouldn't blame Peem for it. Couldn't. Can't. Peem has every right to feel good with anyone he wants. He has every right to not have a second thought about Phum besides, perhaps, some attraction and a binding deal. That may be the most unsettling thing, he thinks faintly, as he listens to Kluen admit that he might be hitting on Peem in the midst of all their friends. Nothing is truly assured between them.

Nothing but an agreement that's been tainted some in the past.

So he keeps quiet. He can't demand, he can't taunt. He can't do much besides a bit of pettiness that dissolves as soon as Peem scolds both him and Kluen.

He can't even muster words as Kleun straight up tells him, "I like Peem."

What is there to say? What can he say? He can't even make himself approach the slings, not with Peem's cheery voice, his laugh resounding in the open space. It doesn't feel safe, it doesn't feel necessary. So he turns away from it. With a wave of thoughts crashing down on him, and uncertainty pressing heavy on his limbs, he leaves somewhere it won't echo. And Phum thinks. Heavily so. Phum and Peem are just... They're just- "You like Peem, right?" Beer's face is softened by the shade of night, and his words don't twinge. Because Phum likes Peem. That's the most sure thing that quickens the beat of his heart. It's not a question.

But. But. It's there. That something. It's a dam. Phum likes Peem, yet he doesn't say anything. He sits quietly, hands tightening around each other as Beer goes on, tells Phum he's easy to read, that he's bothered, he's- "Actually," he begins lowly, eyes set on the stairs under them. "Peem and I have a deal."

It's easy to tell it from there, to explain the situation, even if the situation in itself is not. Because nothing of it is a question.

And of course, Beer is surprised, he's musing. And he's right, but he also isn't. Not really. Because Phum and Peem spent plenty of time together, and God they teased, they did so until the tingles in Phum's body became a requirement, a fond sensation. Until the tint of Peem's lips is the first thing his eyes linger on.

Because Phum likes, he wants, he's had, if only a bit. But does Peem? He may want, he may have had, but does he like? Phum doesn't know. So he tells his friend that, and it remains there. Even after Beer gives his quiet support, even after he's offered advice, Phum doesn't move, nor does his turmoil.

Then, Peem comes. His steps are slow, they're the calm that he always brings with him. Peem sits beside him, warm and gentle as always, and he's looking at Phum, gaze liquid; he's turned towards Phum, his words are crystal clear. He's here.

But is he, really?

"Is something wrong?"

No. No. Nothing. Nothing wrong. But Phum's heart doesn't quicken all that steady like it usually does when Peem decides to close distances between them. It's a loud drum, engulfing and stifling. His ears are ringing, just like they often do when disappointment is the only background buzz at home, when the hollow of his stomach scares off sleep. When arguing morphs into silence, and deafens him. He can't do it. He can't ask anything. He can't give in to Peem's gentle call of his name, the warmth of his hold as he circles Phum's wrist, asking to wait, talk to me.

He can't do it. Not again. Just- "I'm trying to sort out my feelings." Am I gonna lose you just like that? Is it always just that easy? Can I do anything? "Don't talk to me now."

Don't leave.

Even so, with that echoing until his heart learns to say it as well, Phum is the one to step away.

[moo-blogging]

Late night thoughts #129:

Being neighbours, you had known Levi all of your life, but you were never close until you went to college together. His uncle, Kenny was known as a strange man doing strange business, but he was always funny and kept a cool relationship with the neighbourhood. Your parents never invited the Ackermans to the house but would gift cakes and treats to them during the festive seasons.

Knowing that you and Levi were in the same class, your parents were relieved and sent cookies to the Ackermans to "look after this silly fool" while you were in college. And true to his words, Levi stuck around with you. You thought you would mind him, but he turned out yo be cool and you enjoyed being with him.

Your parents were out of town for a week but you stayed back due to college. It was a group project with Levi. Levi offered to cook for you and you went to his place to work together. It was your first time having dinner with his uncle. You found out that Kenny had a rotten sense of humour and you were very certain Levi got his shit joke from him.

It was late. You packed your things and Levi offered to walk you home. On the way back, you ran into some drunk thugs drinking in front of your house with the music blaring from their cars. One of the thugs teased you and wanted to invite themselves into your house because they knew your parents weren't home. The whole gang started to welcome themselves to the porch.

Your blood ran cold and you felt your knees giving in. Levi shielded you behind him. "Get in the turn on the porch light," Levi murmured. Struggling, you unlocked the front door after 2 failed attempts and quickly reached for the switch. With a flick, the front porch was lit up with a yellowish lamp, illuminating the area.

Levi's eyes were dark beneath his fringe, his posture was dominant and protective. The thugs stopped for a moment to take him in. "Is tha- Levi? " One of the thugs grabbed his friend who was taking the lead. After a few blinks, they recognised Levi. "Shit! Let's get out of here! That's Kenny's boy!"

You finally let go of the breath you were holding but you were scared to stay in your house alone. Levi wouldn't leave you alone too. He made you pack your clothes and stayed the night at his place.

When you made it back to his house, Kenny joked about how Levi was going to get it tonight. You were blushing, partly from his joke but mostly still shocked from the incident earlier. Levi told his uncle it was not the time to joke.

With a tool box, Kenny took off the door to Levi's room. "Not under my watch, you two rabbits." After you called your parents and told them what had happened, Kenny made Levi talk to your parents too, promising to keep distance. Kenny personally assured your parents he would keep an eye on you both.

You slept on Levi's bed. It felt weird when you had his blanket and slept on his pillow while Levi slept on the floor with a sofa cushion and a spare towel. His uncle Kenny made himself comfortable in the living room, walking by every once in a while to check on both of you until he fell asleep snoring loudly.

You have never felt this safe in your entire life.