#🌷; about

[lumism]

my most unpopular stranger things related but not stranger things exclusive opinion is that i am very bored with how almost every story that has paranormal or scifi elements eventually evolves into a story about stopping the end of the world. and i do know that apocalypse media has its enjoyers however i am not one of them and i very rarely choose to consume it so you see why it would exhaust me that so often all my horror shows and podcasts turn into an apocalypse thing

[rjshope]

soft boy🖤

for @raplinenthusiasts

[reloaderror]

[hyewka]

I think a lot about sub!soobin with edging AND overstim

can you imagine the mess he would be while being edged for hours, just to be overstimulated right after he cums?

I'll not elaborate, just THINK

moving your hand slowly, torturously slow, as you watch soobin unravel, writhe beneath you. a mess, all 6ft of him sprawled out under you, looking utterly spent. his body slick with sweat, muscles twitching uncontrollably, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes glazed over and heavy lidded, bed soaked with sweat and precum, completely overwhelmed, overheated.

“please, please… i can’t—” his voice breaks off into a whimper as you squeeze just a little tighter, your thumb brushing over his sensitive cockhead, making him buck his hips desperately into your hand. “please, i need to—a-ah, can’t take it, can’t”

soobin whos been nothing but compliant, so willing to abide to every command you give him, is completely exhausted; even then, his legs still twitch as if hes trying to flee, reduced to the mouth-blabbering whore in front of you, completely lost in the torture you’ve been going at for hours, haze of esctasy clouding his mind making it impossible for him to make a single complete, coherent sentence.

"you've been so good, so obedient, haven't you?"

he nods weakly, his movements sluggish as if it takes all his remaining strength just to respond. "y-yes... so good..." his voice is barely a whisper, broken and hoarse from all the pleading and whimpering.

"such a good boy," you continue, your hand gently brushing through his sweat-dampened hair, and he leans into the touch, desperate for any form of comfort, for your approval. "poor baby, you've taken everything i've given you, haven't you?"

"yes... all of it..." he breathes out, his words slurred, like he's on the brink of passing out, yet still, he clings to your praise, the need to please you deeply ingrained in his very being. "i'll... i'll take more... anything.. just...just—just for you.”

you smile at that, tighetning your grip around his shaft, feeling it pulse in your hand as you quicken your pace just enough to push him to the edge, obscene sounds of squelching growing louder and more frantic. “you know what i want, don’t you?”

he groans, his head falling back against the pillows as his hips jerks up into your fist. “y-yes… i know… please…”

“want to see you make a mess for me, bunny. can you do that for me?”

his answer was a choked sob, his body straining as you pushed him further and further— you could feel him starting to shake, his body on the brink of breaking down completely, and that’s when you finally let him have it.

all it took was you leaning towards his tip, giving it a kitty lick and soobin’s entire body convulses as he finally, finally tumbled over the edge, his back arching off the bed as he came with a loud, desperate cry. thick ropes of cum spilling over your hand, dripping down his shaft, splattering across his stomach, his thighs, the sheets. hes cumming so hard, harder than he ever had before, and it seemed like it wouldn’t stop, his body still shuddering as you milked every last drop out of him.

“fuck, fuck, i’m—i can’t, it’s too much, too much—” his voice high-pitched, frantic, as you kept going, your hand still moving in the same pace, watching as more cum spurted out. his mouth falls open, and all that comes out are incoherent, broken sounds, a mix of whimpers and sobs, his mind too fogged with pleasure and pain to say anything more ^__^

[grassiestars]

zits doodles I did on the train (ft the band au I have rotating in my brain)

[acid-ixx]

(masterlist &. synopsis) gn! chronically ill reader with a platonic! yandere batfam who accepts their pampering

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: sorry for the on and off hiatus ^^ i am very much invested in dc and altho i have only read a few comics, i try to be very close to canon with this one. this was written with POTS in mind but the illness is vague for the purpose of inclusivity !! requests will be open soon enough once i fix my account up and add request rules. keep in mind, the reason why i would be posting separate headcanons is because i plan for each of them to be longer than usual.

just imagine life with platonic! yandere batfam after their initial kidnapping. they've abducted you after a few months of stalking, gathering every bit of information about you from either the long or short times you've talked to them, or from watching you from afar at your most vulnerable state inside your very much hidden-camera-free apartment (lies. they have cameras implanted in every crevice of your room and even tampered with security cameras in the entire building just to ensure ultimate surveillance for you!)— it may be illegal, sure, no kidding it is, but they promise it's for your safety (and well-being) and nothing else! (other than the fact that they needed to know everything about you to guarantee your permanent stay with them would be stress-free and enjoyable not only in their eyes but yours too, especially since you require more needs than the average person but, ah! you just perfectly captured the attention of the most capable people who would bend the rules of the universe just for you.

everything was very much an elaborate scheme to get you to easily submit to their whims without a single fibre of fight in your bones. they have your entire room set up; ones with the comfiest sheets, a room where fresh, unpolluted air is accessible through baby-proofed windows— and you can even keep your (hacked) phone to call them whenever you need something. really, you have everything you need! all you have to do is accept their proposal... though, they wouldn't mind being patient either way.

what they didn't know was that they didn't even need to go through so much effort to keep you from escaping. hell, it's like the moment your eyes blink the tiredness away, and your brain registers the entirely new (and bigger) space you were in, it's like you merely accepted your fate.

you're creepily greeted with almost the exact same copy of your room, except the blanket you know and love with the same color, same design, same smell doesn't feel, or much less have the same texture as your previous blanket. in fact the fabric is way more high quality, the texture doesn't overstimulate you as much as the sheets you were used to back at home. the lights aren't as bright, in fact it was a welcoming shade that blends in well with the natural light that floods through the windows— windows that welcome in the faintest scent of floral growth, fresh and unlike the polluted air of gotham that you were never accustomed to.

before you could even force your body to sit up, joints a tad bit heavier and your mind cloudier than before, a soft knock disrupts your train of thought. the door opens and you are greeted with a butler and... even stranger, bruce wayne with his other children in tow.

[moonpascal]

♡︎ first time with dad!james

╰┈➤ inspired drabble by @amiableness

[autisticakaashitruther]

All the times I've put the ball up for you... have you ever run into a block? Ever?

[bunniebi]

Seven @ the diner (+ my mc)

[lumism]

in some au situation i really do believe that if will needed a fake boyfriend, the first friend he'd go to is dustin. and it'd prove to be an entirely well based decision because dustin would approach the theoretical part with all the same thought through preparation he'd put into a science project, and the practical part with all the ardor of an oscar winning acting performance

[rjshope]

Namseok through the years for @raplinenthusiasts ✨

+bonus:

[yenqa]

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — TEASER

READ HERE!

in which...

you hate heeseung. you hate his snobby little voice, his stupid little glasses that are too big for him, his nosiness, and his ability to prove anything or anyone wrong easily. you hate hate hate the way you try to avoid him, but somehow he’s always around, and he can’t see how much you hate him. you swear nothing could make you like him, but after you get caught in a sticky situation with him playing your knight in shining armor, you realize that maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

genre — one sided enemies to lovers, highschool au, he falls first she falls harder, oblivious x obvious, tutor x tutoree (kind of), childhood friends (ish because the whole one sided enemies thing) to lovers, long fic

wordcount — teaser is 1005! fic est. 9k-13k words (hopefully not too ambitious)

warnings — profanity, kissing (no suggestive stuff or nsfw), miscommunication, parties/underage drinking, name calling (bitch, whore, stuff like that), food

featuring — lia of itzy, miyeon of g-idle, hyung line of enhypen (sorry maknaes too many people), ocs : sooyun + teachers

disclaimer — i am not saying this is an accurate representation of these idols or trying to sexualize them at all. this just something i do for fun.

release date — hopefully by mid march?

taglist — open! send an ask or comment to be added!

yenqa — watched the movie on the plane and i was kind of obsessed… but this does not follow the movie plot, i just thought the title fit

YOU WATCH AS THE SNOW FALLS SLOWLY TO THE GROUND

A blanket of white has got you and the guests at your house locked in for the night. You weren’t very happy with these strangers staying at your house for the night—In fact, you had just been completely shut down by your dad when you asked him to kick them out. It was obvious why he did that, but this definitely had to be your least favorite christmas out of the eight you had been through.

You snap out of your thoughts, continuing to eat whatever you had left on your plate, hesitating when you saw the amount of vegetables still left.

“Mom! I’m full.” You try to hide your plate from her, showing her instead a pout with a hand on your stomach. 

It didn’t work—obviously, so you were stuck at the table, a frown on your face as you forced in the greens. Across from you, a boy your age, who didn’t seem to mind, he almost looked like he was enjoying it.

That’s impossible though, no one likes vegetables. Maybe he was doing it so Santa would get him an extra special gift?

You grumble when he finishes his place, showcasing his plate that had been licked clean to his mom. He stared at you for a second looking down at your—full plate then looking back at his mom, she said “Great job Heeseung!”. He returns his plate to the table with a smile. 

Stabbing your fork back into your food, you stuff it into your face, hoping that you would enjoy it as much as Heeseung did. Again, it didn’t work, and the bitter taste returned to your mouth.

After what felt like hours of groaning and complaining, you had taken the last bite of your food, a proud smirk on your face when you made eye contact with the boy from earlier, who only smiled at you in return. 

Throwing away your plastic plate, you realized that now it was present time, and Santa just had to reward you for your good deeds.

Rushing over to the tree, you spot everyone gathered around the area, opening their presents. You run to your present, recognizing the wrapping paper from last year. Looking at your mom for approval, she nods and you tear apart the paper, lifting up the box inside.

You squeal when you see the picture, you had been begging your mom for weeks for a Lego set, specifically if it was minecraft themed. And Santa had gotten you just that. You hug the box, squeezing it. You exclaim a loud “Thank you Santa!” before running up to your room to assemble the build.

Reading the directions, you start the house, quickly getting confused on how it isn’t looking like how it does in the picture. 

“I think that’s the wrong piece.” A voice says, you whip your head around to see the same boy who sat across from you.

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows furrow at the sight, confused on why those were the first words he said instead of “Hi!” or something.

“My name’s Heeseung—Um, my mom told me to come upstairs and said we should be friends. Do you want to be friends?” 

You huff, “I’m Y/n. Also no, I don’t want to be friends, you’re mean.” You force your legos together, frustrated already with the pieces. You continue to reread the directions, pushing—what you think are—the exact legos to the board. But it doesn’t seem like it’ll fit. Maybe if you push it harder?

“Oh—okay.” You jump slightly, too focused to realize how he's been watching you for the past few minutes. “Do you need some help?”

Yes, you need help. But did you want to accept his help?  . This was your christmas gift from Santa, you shouldn’t have to share.

Glancing at the picture then to the building that had looked like an abstract rendition of it, you let out a sigh. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? “Yeah, I guess.”

He takes a seat on the carpet next to you, focusing hard on the directions before breaking off the wrong pieces, reassembling it so you’ll be on the right track.

“Does this go here, do you think?” “No, it goes here.”  That was a summary of what the conversation was between you, and somehow you were always the one asking the question. Sighing, you lean back, taking a short stretch break before starting again.

You’re shocked at his speed and efficiency, it almost seems like he’s always a step ahead of you. Geez does this guy ever slow down? 

The roles are quickly switched as you are sitting watching him instead. Rummaging through each box only for his eyes to lighten up one he finds the right one. You watch him for a while, getting a break that you very much needed.

You hope that he waits for you to finish it, or that he doesn’t completely do it all by himself because again,  it’s your Christmas gift, and he wouldn’t do that, right?

Not right, because apparently he’s a machine—he finishes the build. He stands up, pushes his stupid glasses up also and smiles at you, heading to the door. You think he’s going to say something else like “Sorry for taking away your present!” instead, he thanks you for sharing and happily skipping away. 

Heeseung. Even his name infuriates you. He was very unpredictable and you hated that. Why did he just do that? He’s so rude. People don’t make sense—especially boys, they have cooties.

Your head was filled with calling him the rudest things you could think of—You even said a few curse words.

Though later you realized that you probably would never see him again, you were ecstatic, so ecstatic you had disassembled your legos just to rebuild it, to completely forget about your bad experience with the boy. 

Only two weeks later were you disappointed to see that same boy, sitting across from you during dinner once again.

perm taglist — @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee @hanniluvi @teddywonss

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[flowercrowngods]

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

[hyewka]

hii !! this is my first question thing .. can u maybe do a perv!yeonjun?

warnings: perv bestfriend!yeonjun, jealousy, corruption kink, stealing clothes, sniffing underwear/yeonjun has a thing for scent in general, obsessive behavior, switch!yeonjun, not proofread

"you save yourself?" he breathes, blinking rapidly like he was trying to piece this sacred information together.

"yeah, i mean, i just sort of ...grew up with the expectation." you say shrugging. it wasn't a big deal, you've always just went through it, not having the desire to be sexually active during your teenage years anyway.

yeonjun stares at you mind boggled, lips slightly parted before he just lets out a light scoff, brows slowly knitting together.

you shift awkwardly at his reaction- you're not sure what you expected but it wasn't whatever ...that was. yeonjun was the most open minded person you've met and know. exact reason why it's a breeze for you to confide in him about anything and everything.

you've never told him about your stupid virginity pact assuming he'd never live the information down-- a sophomore at college was a virgin? it didn't help that yeonjun's reputation included a lot of...well, the opposite of a virgin.

but the more you got to know him, the more you let the worry go-- he never seemed the type. until now, the regret slowly creeping up of ever mentioning it.

yeonjun suddenly takes a swig of his drink, still dazed.

"i mean i get it, it's not very feminist of me is it?" you try lightening up the mood, laughing at your own joke.

yeonjun's not on the same thought train. whatsoever. your earlier statement about finally 'trying it out' sticking out sorely in his head now knowing you were a virgin. "and...and you're going to give it up to fucking wooyoung?" he spits out with a mocking sneer.

okay, now you're confused. you turn your body on the couch to yeonjun, who had his forearms laid on his knees, posture bent with a strong grip on his red cup eyes focused on the crowd dancing to the blasting music. "what's wrong with wooyoung? i mean he's my boyfriend. and you guys are friends...did he do something wrong?"

yeonjun's venomous smile withers, practically evaporates as he throws an arm around your shoulder- if you hadn't spent hours doing your hair, he would've normally ruffled it, but his hands avoid it, his trademark teasing smirk that you could probably draw from memory showing up, "nothing, nothing's wrong. i was just messing with you. i got you, didn't i?"

you blink dumbfounded, but before you could question the sudden transition he had already switched topics and you reluctantly let it go.

yeonjun who goes home that night, far from his original plan to get trashed, opening his closet in desperate search of the cardigan you forgot on his couch a few days ago. when he spots it, he gulps, grabbing it and looking down at the baby blue in his hand for a second.

when he originally recognized it as yours, thoughts of calling you to pick it up weren't lasting. see, yeonjun has recently been hit by a sudden infatuation with you the past year, even after you started going out seriously with wooyoung. he wasn't too concerned, afterall, it was natural-- you were attractive, of course in the way of your friendship he'd eventually feel something more. it happened with more than half of his female friends, it always proved to be fleeting.

but the longer he caught his eyes trailing down your ass, subconsciously licking his lips, before snapping out of it and stuffing his perverted hands in his pockets to stop himself from losing control, the harder he felt he had to have you. it was so bad that his occasional flings mortifyingly started sounding a lot more like you...and looked a carbon copy.

so what if had a sickenly desire of touching, ruining every inch of your body? what could he do with your silly cardigan anyway?

yeonjun who finds it almost bothersome as he approaches his bed, grip tight on the fabric, wrinkling it in his hand. the fabric that's responsible to the haven that was your scent, stenched with you, everything you. you've always worn it out, to the point he thought it was your only jacket (to which he tried suggesting to gift you a new one), but you told him it was because the fabric was breathable, comfortable compared to most things in your closet.

he guessed it was your favorite.

so what would you think of him now? staining your favorite piece of clothing, hand shaking as he immediately shoves his nose in the line of the cardigan, his control breaking as he takes a deep exhale in, flickering his eyes shut, his lungs filled with you. the power of smell, it felt like you were right next to him when he had his eyes closed, taking another whiff before frantically trying to smell every inch of the fabric. his head light with ecstasy, his hand drive themselves over his bulge, feeling his hard on through his loose sweats, before his pace picks up, palming his dick, his breathing heavy and unrhythmic -- the mere scent of you making him go mad.

perv!yeonjun who gets dangerously fast to his climax, his hand faltering as he takes another whiff, groans easily slipping out of his mouth with the way they shamefully hung open-- so addicted he thinks he might go insane, his drool trickling down under his chin, some wiped on your cardigan because he was a dog with a bone. a crazed animal he realizes when he finally shudders, soiling his boxers, watching a large wet path spreading rapidly with growth on the area of his crotch.

who knew he could fucking get off of a cardigan? that's when the panic settled in as his hand shake in realization of what the fuck he just did.

he ruined his pants...because of your cardigan.

perv!yeonjun who feels like such a freak when he bumps into you at campus, yet continues to use your cardigan to his free will, hips canting against his bed with his head buried in the fabric, "f-fuck, y/n, you do this to me..." his babbles are so shameful to the way he carries himself, strong, masculine--anything but weak to a scent of a mere girl.

but it was you. the girl he felt he could spend eternity laying his head on, eternity hearing just a laugh, a snappy retort, a stupid dumb joke-- anything, he could do anything for you, with you, anything and he would find no use with anyone else.

he tries to get rid of his concerningly growing infatuation, deciding that he was acting out because of his lack of pussy-- going to every frat party on thursday, taking a pretty girl to a secluded enough space, have a pretty good fuck, feeling pretty fucking good on his way home-- until he's on his toilet again, left hand jerking off his swollen cock, his tip leaking precum, gawking down at your new post, biting his lips so painful at the shot of your ass in skinny jeans. "fuck!" he yells, strings of his cum spurting all over his screen, so frustrated with the hold you had on him, especially when you spared him zero romantic attention.

you had your heart reserved for someone else, and it was never not shoved in his face. it was the main drive for him-- when he spots wooyoungs hand sneakily going dangerously under your waist, his lips too close to your ears, body pressed against your ass a little too much for his comfort-- the occasional eye rolls were impossible to control in the first place, but these days, rage got to the best of him.

as far as he knew, based on your rambles lately, you haven't slept with wooyoung yet. you were still a virgin. and the scent of you was wearing off the cardigan, not able to get himself off properly.

he couldn't return it, the fabric was ruined with stains of his cum not washed off even after the third circle in the washing machine-- he impulsively opted to buy an identical, praying to god you wouldn't notice the difference.

perv!yeonjun who has a habit of lingering in an embrace with you, nose buried in your hair, discreetly trying to inhale your smell, before you awkwardly try to pull out of his suffocating grasp. "yeonjun, you're acting like you haven't seen me in years." you say, finally breaking the embrace with yeonjun's hands defeatedly falling to his side, staring at you with such intensity you don't notice.

its so so full of pity, his eyes, hidden with all the perverted things he would do to you- hes' thought of doing to you. his mind was rotten, if you let him, he'd take you right then and now. slamming his hips into his best friend's tight pussy, breaking your hymen, mixture of his seed and proof of your virginity taken-- a sight to be imprinted in his memory foreer.

hes dreamt of it even more vividly, being the one to take your virginity, in his fantasies- the one you've reserved for him. it's why you haven't fucked wooyoung yet, right? you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

yeonjun who has built a pile, a haven of all the guilty stolen treasures. clumsy with the elastic bands of his boxers, quick as he flings out his dick from the restriction of his pants, his hand slow on his shaft, dragging up and down with the stickiness of his precum, burying his nose into h like the fabric would evaporate into thin air at any time, like this was his last shot at getting something remotely reminiscent of you, deep groans of your name that sometimes get out of his control, turning to loud moans, the family next door unappreciative.

perv!yeonjun who's addicted to taking your things, stuffing it in either his pockets or bag, ruining it back at home the same day with his filthy thick load, your suspicions rising only making it more thrilling with each trashed item.

yeonjun who loses his last bits of restraints when you're jokingly pushed directly on his lap, floors of the living room being occupied by most of your friends invited for the group watch, the couches all full, chairs all used, of course they thought it'd be funny if you sat on yeonjun. you didn't mind it all too much, finding no issue with sitting on your best friend-- you've done it a few times before, skinship was normal between the both of you. but you still wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

you lean your head back to whisper in his ear, noticing the way his pronounced adam apple bopped up and down, which was odd-- yeonjun being nervous? but you ignore it, "i can stand if you're not comfortable."

his eyes tear from the premier that has the entire living room roaring with excitement, "n-no, it's okay, you're alright. i'm alright."

"...you sure? you don't look like you're alright."

"i'm seriously good y/n, let's focus on the show, we've been waiting for a whole year."

hesitantly you nod, it's true, the cliff hanger last season was a bite in the ass, so you ignore your gut, tuning in with the rest of your friends.

yeonjun who can't help the soft whimpers escaping his lips the more you jump at a scene then fall back down, his boner growing harder and harder, trying to go to the bathroom, but you're too focused on the show he's stuck under you as you adjust your position every few minutes, your ass with no knowledge, getting him off. his breathing gets heavier, nose flaring, so thankful the lights were off and it was night, too crowded for anybody to catch onto the way he was bucking his hip up into you, making the friction enough to get his head dizzy, arms snaking around your waist, tightening the closer he gets, the way you're so clueless spurring him on-- his face dipping into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping down his forehead, taking a deep breath before muffles his moan with a bite down his lip, whimpers as he finally releases.

he throws his head back on the couch, trying to calmly catch his breath, a grin spreading across his face letting his mind drift to how heavenly itd feel being inside you if grinding against you felt this good.

you turn your head back, voice hoarse and quiet, "...yeonjun?"

"yeah?"

your eyes trail down, and it takes the perv a few seconds to realize before his forehead crease flatten.

oh shit.

yeonjun just stained your leggings.

----

[jesuistrestriste]

do u think art would be been too innocent or sheltered to even know abt pegging or do yk think he wouldn’t found out from like patrick or something? (not i’m the way that he’s actually innocent he’s still a teen boy but like yk)

bc i’m thinking of him dating a girl whose like different to other girls he’s been with. he usually goes for predictable girls or girls he would want to be seen with(if that makes sense bc he’s super aware of how ppl see him). but you made the first move with him and you make him nervous and when u first bring up pegging(joking casually in conversation) he has to ask patrick what it is..

- 🌷

ok canonly he seems like a pretty busy guy. it’s tennis, tennis, tennis all the time and then im sure that when he got to stanford he was sucked into classwork too. bc of that stuff, i dont think he really had a ton of time to explore his sexuality, what non-mainstream things turn him on, and what pegging really is. also maybe im wrong, but i dont think pegging was a big thing back in the early 2000s. i definitely think if he knew about it back when he was a young adult, it was patrick’s doing lmao. that guy strikes me as someone who spent way too much time online at night.

but anyways !!

yea absolutely. he would 100% go to patrick if you came to him about the prospect of pegging him. he’d text patrick about meeting up later to talk about something, and pat assumes from the serious tone of the message that art’s grandma kicked the bucket….

so when he meets art in his dorm room later and sits down with him, looking to his friend’s rigid expression, he’s baffled when blondie is just like “so… what is ‘pegging’…?”

patrick makes fun of him for like a solid ten minutes before he pulls him in closer like he’s about to tell him something top-secret, and then starts walking him through the steps. blah blah blah lube blah blah blah fingering blah blah blah strap-on etc. art’s just got this half-horrified, half-imextremelyturnedonrightnow look on his face the whole time

[yesiamagummybear]

⋆⁺₊❅.🥀

𝔜𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩, ℑ'𝔪 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔤 𝔒𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ'𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔡 ℑ'𝔩𝔩 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 ℑ 𝔞𝔪

ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶 ℑ'𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔑𝔬 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔬 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢, ℑ 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔢 ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱, 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 ℑ?

🪓⋆⭒˚.⋆

(Edit: After I posted this I saw all the errors lol, had to edit this with it fixed 💀)