#but the settings can at least make me feel a little better

[dwaekkicidal]

Oh my god I beg for some mean skz smut 😔😔

hmmmm ok but what are we thinking for the hyung line?

is it about meanie channie who snaps after you slut yourself out in the studio when staff was in there- along with the rest of 3racha who you know has a little crush on you hehe. he barely waits for them to walk out the door before shoving you towards the door, forcing you to lock it before shoving his cock into you while you're pushed up against the door- mind you with minimum prep because "You don't deserve it. after that shit." his cock is soooo much thicker like this!!!! >.< and he manages to make his thrusts prove his anger? hips smacking into yours so harshly that it feels like the soundproof door isn't enough to drown any sounds out

what about brat tamer minho who forces you to sit between his legs and watch him jerk himself off? you have a pretty little vibrator thats connect to your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, and he has the controls on his phone that rests in his free hand. he fucks with the controls so much... maybe even teasing u by drawing his full name- in english AND korean- before setting it to the highest setting and leaving it like that until you're cumming at least 3 times.

my sweet binnie who's only mean if you beg him to be or if you reaaaaally push his buttons- maybe throw in a dig or two about how theres another man out there thats better than he is (spoiler: theres literally negative of them). your punishment (reward) is always the same! one of those those sexy ass arms around your neck and squeezing as he fucks into you so roughly that your whole body is jumping forward, your moans cutting off from how aggressive he gives it to you!!!

ok but what about lover boy hyunjin who is actually one of the meanest doms you have ever seen, 99% of the time it being unprompted as well??? the first time you push him to get rough in bed, you're in for ittt~ he ties your wrists up and connects you to the hook in the ceiling, leaving just enough rope for you to be on your tippy toes (also the same hook he previously told you was for painting... yeah, my fucking ass) and speaking of asses, yours is sooo sore from the big handed smacks he leaves there >< he'll always stop if you want it, but otherwise he has no plans to until you submit to him completely <3

whats on the menu for the maknaes today?

definitely munch hannie who ties you up with the most random shit that works- any ties he has laying around, your panties, and sometimes he'll straight up rip his shoelaces out for it?? but it's all so that he can show off the shibari he secretly learned- the main one being a series of knots that tie your arms to a leg each, forcing you wide open for him all the while he eats. and what a messy fucking eater!!! your last 3 orgasms worth of cum dripping down his jaw as he nibbles at your sensitive spots <3

"angel boy" felix me thinks.. who makes you fuck yourself onto him in doggy, refusing to put any effort because he's the "angel" who deserves to be worshipped (yes but...) if you falter even slightly or move to his disliking, you're getting a series of mean smacks- ones that leave a pretty little heart shape in its wake from the pretty pink paddle he insisted on buying (OR HIS INITIALS IF HE GETS A CUSTOM PADDLE OMFFF)

ohhhh but owner seungmin who fucks your brains out with a pretty little collar around your neck <3 (maybe even one also with his initials engraved hehe) he tugs at it to fuck you back onto him, not even need a leash when he slides his finger through one of the loops. huffs and puffs about how tight you are while he actively works to make you tighter, from squeezing your legs together to overstimulating the hell out of you all the while he disallows himself to cum for as long as he can handle, all so when he finally busts theres so much and its all getting fucked right back into you

and god... toy fiend jeongin... the second you let him know you're ok with toys being brought into the bedroom, you're almost regretting everything!!! he's SO fucked up about it >:( he keeps one of those big hands around your throat while the other slides a vibrator as deep into you as it physically can go without causing you pain... and when you squirm around and your legs squeeze together, he's either digging his fingers into your thigh to push them apart or he's biting whatever he's closest to- your thighs, your calf, your shoulder, or (his favorite) your nipples <3

hnnnnng....

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@aeri-skzver

[nicodiangelato]

Here's what I do that helps me get stuff done on time without stressing myself sick:

Split tasks up into their bare, basic components. Then, make a checklist of each component. Planners are my best friends, because I have an easier time remembering to do something if I write it down.

I find it a lot easier for me, motivation wise, to get through an essay by writing :

"do research/ find sources,

find quotations and create citations,

create an outline,

write paragraph (1,2,3, etc.),

edit rough draft,

create final draft"

because I can check off each little part and still feel like I'm making real, tangible progress vs. just putting down "turn in essay by (deadline)" in my planner.

Then, figure out what's the absolute *bare minimum* you need to do each day (or any other incriment of time that fits your schedule) to meet your deadline. Whatever it is, make sure to add an extra day or two as padding, so you can meet that deadline even if something comes up. Don't be afraid of asking for extensions or setting up accomodations. Be realistic with your limitations and time constraints.

For example: I have 5 hours of lecture I need to get through over Thanksgiving break to meet a deadline. Over 6 days, I need to watch at least 45 mins of a lecture each day. For me, 45 of lecture time is doable over a day because I know I dont have to do it all in one sitting. Realistically, I know it will take me anywhere from 1-5 hours to watch and take notes for these 45 minutes of lecture, because I am preemptively assuming I will need to take some breaks in between.

Breaks: when I get bored, I dont fight it. Instead, I take time to pivot. This is particularly helpful when I find myself doing something I have no interest in, and my brain does not for any reason want to let me do it. I take the time to scroll aimlessly, but also to get a drink/eat/use the restroom. I'm actually writing this while on a hw break right now. And when I get back from my break, all my stuff is in the same place where I left it at my desk, so I have a much better time easing my way into being productive again. If I still don't wanna work on what I was before, I start working on something relatively quick & easy from my to do list that I *do* want to do and ride the wave of productivity I get from finishing that.

The last part: reward yourself for the small victories. Yes checking things off a to do list is fun, but so are stickers. My planners are FULL of gold stars, smiley faces, and cute character stickers. There's a reason teachers use them, they are amazing motivators.

There's a bunch of adhd advice out there that's like "people with adhd tend to work better under deadlines due to the anxiety so here are ways to artificially induce a stress response in order to get you to get work done" and it's like well what if I don't want to be stressed out all the time in order to function

[salty-autistic-writer]

Buck sits on a hospital bed and looks down at his bandaged hands. Mild burns. They add to the considerable amount of smoke inhalation that makes his throat feel as dry as sandpaper. At least his coughing already got better. Buck's doctor assured him he would be able to leave soon. Too bad there's no home he can return to. 

He stares at his hands and feels … numb. It happened so fast. So fast, it almost seems like a dream. But it’s real. And everything still smells like smoke.

His loft. It’s gone.

In the middle of the night, flames consumed the walls in that scary astonishing speed he’s so well familiar with. And he couldn't stop it.

So many memories. Burnt down to ash. Buried underneath rubble. Gone.

A light knock at the doorframe makes him perk up. Buck expects to see Maddie who left to get some water and a snack. Or Chimney. Or Hen. Or Bobby. But it’s neither one of them.

“Tommy?” Buck looks up, too surprised to prepare himself for the pain he feels when he actually sees Tommy. For the first time in weeks. “What … what are you doing here?”

“I … Howie called me,” Tommy says, avoiding direct eye contact.

“Of course he did,” Buck mutters, looking back down at his hands, picking at a loose thread. Chimney. The ever-hopeful matchmaker.

Tommy clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

Buck flinches. The soft tone with which those words are spoken feels like a punch to his gut.

Are you okay? 

Okay. 

Anger wells up inside Buck’s tight chest like dark ice water, rising to the surface of his mind and fading out all the sadness. Buck glares up at Tommy. “Seriously? That’s what you’re asking about? After weeks of silence. Of nothing. You dare to show up here just like that and ask if I’m okay?!”

It’s Tommy’s turn to wince, his eyes widening slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Somehow, that only makes Buck even angrier. He knows it’s true. Honest. He knows that Tommy cares. And he kind of wishes Tommy wouldn’t. But here they are. Still care about each other way too much.

Tiredness creeps into the murky combination of anger and sadness.

“It burnt,” Buck says quietly.

“What?” Tommy asks.

“My scrapbook. It burnt. All the pictures too. The pictures I put on the fridge. And now I have nothing left.” Buck can feel the tears coming. He doesn’t want them. Doesn’t want to cry in front of Tommy. “All the memories I started to collect. They’re gone.”

I used to look at them. I used to remember the time when I thought I was finally on my way to happiness.  

“It’s all gone,” Buck breathes. And then he really cries.

An ugly sob that escapes his lips. And he hates it. Hates it so much. But he has no energy left to hide.

“Evan,” Tommy says, barely audible. And even though the sadness is suffocating him, Buck has the space for a relieved sigh. Not Buck. Still Even. And it still sounds so right … How does it sound so right after all the wrong directions their path took?

The bed dips as Tommy sits down beside Buck, hesitantly putting a hand on his heaving back. “It’s not all gone,” Tommy says.

Buck wipes at his burning eyes. “It’s not?” He asks, doubtfully.

“No. I … I’ve been collecting memories too. I can share them with you. If you want them,” Tommy says.

“That would be great,” Buck admits, trying to take a deep breath through his stuffed nose with a grimace. “Because … Because they really make me happy. The memories.”

“They do?” Tommy asks, his hand still on Buck’s back, but apparently not daring to move. “Don’t they make you … angry?”

“Not really. Sometimes they make me a little sad. Because I start to think of what could have been,” Buck says. “I start to picture all the happy memories the future might have given me.”

“But you don’t know if those memories would have been happy. What if … What if that future turns out to be so painful that you end up wishing you wouldn’t have lived through it in the first place?” Tommy asks, his voice strained. “Aren’t you scared of what you can’t know?”

Buck shakes his head. “No. I can’t live like that. The future isn’t set in stone. And as long as I think the memories I want to make are worth fighting for … Things will be alright.”

We would have been alright.  

Tommy’s hand is burning him. But when it retreats, Buck almost tells him to put it back. Maybe that’s pathetic. But he can’t find the energy to care.

Tommy is silent for a long moment. He seems lost in his own thoughts, his fingers rubbing over his jean-cladded knees in rhythmic movements.

Buck glances at him. Through a blur of his lingering tears, he suddenly realizes that Tommy looks … rough. 

His edges are sharper. The lines on his face seem deeper. There are shadows under his eyes and he’s close to growing a beard. 

And maybe that’s pathetic too, but Buck suddenly wants to hope that Tommy is feeling that same ache Buck has been feeling for such a long time now. The ache that forces him to bake. To keep his hands busy and his mind empty.

He wonders. What is Tommy doing to soothe his ache?

Buck almost asks.

But before he can, Tommy gets up. He clears his throat. “Are you staying with Maddie and Howie?”

“Yeah,” Buck says quietly. “For now. I guess.”

Tommy nods. He’s chewing on his lower lip. Lingers. Seems like there’s something else he wants to say.

And the silence stretches like a rubber band. The tension is almost palpable in the room.

Finally, Tommy says, “If I would text you in a few days. Would you read it? Would you read it all?”

“I would,” Buck says, remembering the bubbles. “I promise,” he adds.

Tommy exhales shakily. “Okay. Alright. I’m truly sorry, Evan. For the loft. And for what you lost. I can't change what happened. I can’t give the past back to you. But whatever happens, whatever you do after you read what I am going to write, I will give you everything I have. So that you can start a new collection.”

“Thank you,” Buck says, his throat tightening.

Tommy nods. He starts to walk out of the room with slow heavy steps.

Before he can disappear, Buck works up the courage to say, “Tommy. Wait.”

Tommy stops, glancing back at Buck.

“Are … are you okay?” Buck asks.

Tommy’s brows furrow with surprise, but then his eyes soften. “Honestly? No. And I haven’t been in a long time. But I am finding ways to keep the hope alive,” he says. “Goodbye, Evan. Rest well.”

And then he really leaves.

Buck stares into the void and the ache is back. But the pain has a note of hope in its bite. Maybe it’s the same kind of hope Tommy was talking about. And maybe he shouldn’t allow himself to feel it. But he can’t help it.

Apparently, his heart, even though covered in the ash the night left behind, is still convinced that the future he pictured is worth fighting for.

(AO3 Link)

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

Dustin shows up at his house the next morning.

"You have a concussion," Dustin says when Steve answers the door.

Steve squints at him. "Did you get your medical license when I wasn't looking?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "Haha, very funny. Are you going to let me in?"

Steve doesn't really have a reason not to.

All right, well, he's got several reasons not to, starting with the fact that Steve isn't actually feeling so great and ending with Dustin being like thirteen and somehow always around when the world is ending.

But Steve is lonely, and feeling kind of pathetic, and none of them seem like good enough reasons, so he opens the door and lets Dustin in.

"From my mom," Dustin says, setting down a Tupperware of brownies on the coffee table.

Steve immediately knows he's made the right decision, taking a massive bite of chocolate, fudgy heaven. It's only after he's devoured one and he turns to Dustin to ask him to tell his mom thanks that he sees that Dustin's plopped his heart onto the coffee table, too.

"Hearts out, Steve," Dustin says matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Steve bitches. "What do you even need to look at it for?"

"You're in the Party now! Party rules, you have to show your heart before you can get your walkie," Dustin says.

Steve pulls a face, and immediately regrets it as it makes his eye and nose burst with pain. "Who says I even want to be in your party?"

Dustin's face falls. "Don't you?" he asks, sounding hesitant and uncertain.

It makes Steve's resolve crumble immediately.

"How about we start with friends?" Steve offers.

The kid's face lights up at that, giving him a gap toothed smile, but then he nudges his heart closer to Steve and looks at him expectantly.

Steve sighs and takes his own heart out, wincing a little as the motion twinges his bruised ribs. He sets it on the table next to Dustin's.

"There you go," Steve mutters.

Now that the light's better, he can see a hole right in the middle of Dustin's heart. It's small, but it goes all the way through, and it makes Steve's own heart give a soft pulse in empathy.

Dustin catches it, looks up to follow Steve's gaze, and drops his eyes. "My dad," Dustin mutters.

"Hey," Steve says softly, reaching out without even thinking about it to turn his heart a little.

There's two overlapping holes in the same place on his own heart, and Steve rubs his thumb over them, biting the inside of his cheek at the way it still prompts a soft echo of longing. "My parents," he tells Dustin.

Dustin looks around, like he's only just now realizing that there's been no sign of them since he rang the doorbell. "Oh," he says, soft and full of understanding.

It's honestly the most understanding he's ever received about his parents choosing to be mostly absent from his life, which makes him feel kind of pathetic, but also makes his heart warm in a way he's not sure it ever has before.

Dustin reaches out, stopping just short of touching Steve's heart as he gestures to the jagged line cutting through it.

"Nancy?" Dustin asks.

Steve's jaw sets.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

Dustin seems to take that as answer enough, though, because he just goes back to eagerly examining both of their hearts. Steve's is bigger than his - of course it is, because Dustin is thirteen, but they're both the same deep, vibrant red, and they both beat strong and steady.

It's barely any time before they're beating in unison.

Dustin looks back up at him, beaming that wide, goofy smile of his. "Cool," he proclaims.

—

Every time Dustin comes over after that - and it's a lot, honestly, Steve still doesn't know what to make of it - he plops his heart onto the coffee table and waits expectantly until Steve takes his out and puts it next to Dustin's.

They never touch each other's hearts, they never even talk about it, but at least twice a week Steve's able to breathe a little easier, able to actually relax.

—

He waits at the picnic table in the woods after school on his first day back.

Munson looks bored at first when he gets there, but then he does a double take, like Steve's injuries are worse now than they were at lunch.

Or maybe it's just that he's up close now, instead of on the other side of the cafeteria, or maybe it's just that Steve's tired and in pain and he doesn't give a shit about pretending like he isn't.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” Munson mutters, dropping his lunchbox on the table.

Steve shrugs. “I'd say you should see the other guy, but everyone did already.”

Munson is looking at him with suspicion, eyes narrowed as he takes him in. Steve wonders if he doesn't buy the story that's been floating around, if it's too easy to see that he and Hargrove both look pretty fucking bad for just blowing off steam and getting carried away.

Wonders if he'll call him on it.

Munson's expression smooths out, though, and he flips the lunchbox lid open. “How much do you want?”

Steve's eyes flick down to the chains on Munson's leather jacket, but no heart there today. Not that he could see anything if it was - Munson's been wearing his heart pinned to his jacket off and on since the last half of Steve's freshman year, but it's always wrapped up tight in chains or leather so that no one could get more than a glimpse of it.

Everyone said it was a flaunt of defiance against tradition and a way he could cheat people in his deals while maintaining the appearance of a fair exchange, but Steve always kind of figured it was just because he was tired of people demanding to see it whenever he sold to them while being reluctant to show theirs.

That, and it was like everything else Eddie Munson did - loud and in your face and purposefully drawing attention to what he wanted you to see, while guarding what he didn't close to his chest.

Steve's never bothered with attempting a mutual show of hearts the handful of times he's bought from Munson before - they aren't exactly new business partners, not even the first time he actually bought from Munson himself, and frankly Steve's never needed to see Munson's heart to know he's trustworthy enough that he's not going to give him bad shit, even if he does overcharge him.

But today's different.

He gently pops open his own chest, ignoring the faint twinge of his ribs, and takes his heart out, setting it on the table next to Munson's lunchbox.

Munson's eyes widen for a moment before his jaw sets, lips thinning out in a flat line as he looks down at Steve's heart and then back up to his face. “What the hell is this?”

“My heart,” Steve replies evenly.

Munson looks unimpressed. “I'm not showing you mine.”

“I didn't ask you to,” Steve says, unable to stop himself even though he knows he's being kind of a dick.

Munson looks at him for a moment. Then, “Whatever. How much do you want?”

Steve opens his mouth to say he isn't here to buy today, but - actually, no, he could probably use some weed to dull the pain and help him sleep. It's routine for a moment, both of them ignoring Steve's heart beating on the table next to them as they make the trade, until Steve's baggie is tucked inside his jacket and Munson's shoving cash into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty,” Munson says, doing a little bow.

“Munson, wait,” Steve says.

Munson straightens, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hargrove tried to blame this on you.” Steve gestures at his face. “Told me you sold him some bad shit.”

Munson goes very, very still. His eyes flick down to Steve's heart, so quick that Steve's not sure he would have noticed it if he wasn't watching Munson so closely.

“That so?” Munson asks. There isn't an edge in his voice - if anything, there's such a quiet neutrality to those two words that it almost feels more dangerous than if he'd tried to put a warning in them.

Eddie Munson's never scared Steve the way he does half the school - honestly, shitty as it is, Steve doesn't exactly think of him all that much - but there's no denying that Munson is no pushover. He can't tell if Munson is afraid, or angry, or just itching for a fight, but Steve didn't come here to freak him out.

He holds his hands up, palm out, and purposefully drags his gaze down to where his heart is beating calm and steady. “I don't believe him.”

Munson looks down at Steve's heart, lingering for a moment before darting back up. His expression is still unreadable. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he said he was going to spread it around, that you were lacing your stuff with something,” Steve says. “I'm pretty sure I convinced him it was a bad idea, but just in case.”

“You convinced him it was a bad idea,” Munson repeats flatly.

Steve shrugs. “I told him he should be nicer to you, that you always sell me the good shit.”

That gets a little snort out of Munson, startled and almost amused, and Steve grins at him.

“It won't be hard to tack that onto the rumor if he tries to spread it,” Steve says. “So you should be safe.”

Just like that, the amusement in Munson's expression is gone. “Yeah?” he asks, disdain clear in his voice. “And why does King Steve give a shit if I'm safe?”

It's an obvious challenge, and for just a moment - for just a moment, Steve wants to tell him.

To tell him how the King Steve shit first came about because Carol loved fairy tales when they were little and his parents were gone so much that Tommy called him king of the castle, that he has tons of people who call him their friend but the only people who come close to understanding him are his ex, her new boyfriend, and a gaggle of middle schoolers who're waiting for him to come pick them up.

That he's more tired than any seventeen year old should ever be.

“What kind of king would I be if I didn't protect my people?” he says instead of any of that, refusing to look at whatever his heart is doing.

It's high school, it's politics, it's bullshit, but it's still a game he has to play for a little longer.

Munson is watching his heart, now, and whatever he sees makes something complicated cross his face. For a moment, Steve picks up a hint of longing, but it's gone by the time he looks back up.

“Well then,” he says, wide grin back in place as he bows again. “Consider this court jester protected, Your Majesty.”

—

The phone rings at one am a few days later.

He isn't asleep - had been, earlier, but a nightmare had tipped him quickly into wakefulness, and he hadn't gone back - so he answers it almost immediately.

Nothing good comes from one am phone calls.

“How many teeth do you think those things have?” Max demands without so much as a hello.

“I don't know,” Steve bitches before he's thought better of it. “You want to come over and count the bite marks on my leg?”

There's silence for a moment.

“Yeah,” Max says, and Steve's gut twists.

“It's one in the morning, Mayfield,” he says. “What are you going to do, skate over? It's dark and cold as shit out there.”

“Didn't stop us at the junkyard,” she shoots back.

He's quiet for a moment. Then, “I'll pick you up.”

She snorts. “You're going to show up at my house at one am and pick me up? Yeah, that'll be a great look for you.”

“Then it looks like you're out of luck, and you'll have to pick out the teeth marks on my leg tomorrow.”

She doesn't say anything for a while. He doesn't rush her, just settles back with the phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.

“Why'd you do it?” she asks eventually.

“I ask myself that about a lot of things,” he replies. “Which one?”

He half expects another snappy retort, but her voice just goes even quieter.

“Put yourself in front of me. Stand up to him.”

Oh.

“I don't need protecting,” she adds, and yeah, there's the attitude.

“I know you don't need it,” he says, even though that's a lie. She does need it, they all do. “I know you can look out for yourself.”

That's not a lie.

“But you shouldn't have to. You should have someone who'll look out for you.”

She scoffs. “And that's going to be you?”

He shrugs, even though she can't see it, and it hurts a little. “Why not?”

She's quiet again. “You don't even know me.”

He does, is the thing. He knows the way her eyes looked when she said Billy was going to kill her, he knows not being able to rely on the people you should count on most, even if it's not the same.

He knows how he felt the summer before high school, when his father finally grew too frustrated with waiting for Steve's heart to change, how he picked it up and nearly threw it across the room. He knows the sound of his mother yelling, how viciously they fought. How his father never touched him or his heart again, but Steve now knew what lurked behind his eyes when he smiled too big.

He knows how his mother has looked at him with disappointment more times than anything else, after that.

But he doesn't say any of that. Instead, he says, “So let's change that. Skate park or arcade tomorrow?”

“What?” she asks, clearly thrown.

“After you're done staring at my leg wound and counting teeth like a creep,” he clarifies. “Am I taking you to the skate park or the arcade?”

“Hawkins doesn't have a skate park,” she says dismissively. “It has abandoned parking lots and dirt holes.”

He waits.

“Arcade,” she says. “And I want popcorn.”

—

His walkie flares to life at night, sometimes.

After the first time, he leaves it on a different channel than their usual one - makes sure the kids know which one it is, if they need to use it - and sometimes, they do.

Okay, more than sometimes. It's not like Steve's sleeping all that well, though, so he doesn't mind when it happens almost every night for a few weeks.

“Steve, you awake? Over,” Lucas says one night.

“Yeah, I'm up,” he mutters into the walkie. Then, after a moment's pause, “Over.”

There's silence, and that wakes him up more than the walkie itself had.

“Lucas?” he asks.

“What if you weren't there?” Lucas says.

“What?” Steve asks.

“At the junkyard. With Billy. What if you weren't there?”

“But I was,” Steve says, frowning.

“I know, but what if you weren't?”

Steve sits up, rubs at his eyes a little. “I'll always be there when you guys need me, okay?”

“You can't promise that!” If it was Dustin or Mike it might have been an angry bite, but Lucas just sounds frustrated. Maybe even a little scared.

“Sure I can,” Steve argues, even though he kind of knows Lucas is right. “I have the walkie, right? You guys call me, and bada bing bada boom, I'm there.”

Lucas is quiet for a moment. “Are you still trying to get Nancy back?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Dustin said you were bringing flowers to Nancy when he made you help him look for Dart.”

Right, of course he did. Do these kids keep any secrets from each other?

“This isn't about Nancy, okay? This is about you guys. I showed my heart to Dustin and I have my walkie and everything, doesn't that mean I'm in your party?”

“You actually want to be in the Party?” Lucas asks, sounding skeptical. “But you're Steve Harrington.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steve asks.

“Aren't you way too cool to hang out with us?” Lucas retorts.

This is - quickly becoming a conversation that Steve doesn't really want to have over a walkie talkie at past midnight on a school night. He huffs out a frustrated breath of air, then pushes the talk button on the walkie again.

“This weekend. Arcade or shooting hoops?”

There's a pause. Then, “Really?”

Steve swallows down his urge to be a dick. “Yeah. Really.”

“Basketball. The park?” Lucas asks.

“Nah, we can use the hoop in my driveway. Come on by whenever.”

—

Lucas is good. Unpracticed, especially at any kind of teamwork, but good. Steve has to be careful, with his injuries, but they still get some good work in, and it's fun.

It's not until they're finished and raiding the kitchen for some snacks that he asks, “So what was that about, a few days ago?”

Lucas noisily pops open his can of New Coke, and takes such a long drink that Steve's pretty sure he's doing it to avoid answering. Steve just raises an eyebrow.

“Nancy used to hang out with us,” Lucas says, almost reluctantly. “She even played D&D with us a couple of times. Then she went to high school, and then she started dating you, and suddenly she's too cool to hang out with us. Then - then everything with Will, the first time, and she promised Mike they'd spend more time together, but she didn't. Just kept dating you.”

That's - a lot. He hadn't known that about Nancy, except that she wasn't as close with Mike as she wanted to be, that she didn't know how to talk to him about everything that happened. He thinks about protesting that hey, he's the one who got Nancy to talk to Mike about Will - and had to be a part of it, ugh - but again, he's trying not to be a dick.

“So you're, what, worried that I goaded Nancy into not hanging with you guys?”

Lucas makes a face at him. “No, Nancy doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. I believe you that you'll be here if we need you for Upside Down stuff again, but why would you hang out with us for the in between?”

That's a fair question. He wants to be flippant, wants to deflect with something like because Dustin keeps showing up at my house and won't leave me alone, but -

He remembers how terrified Lucas looked with Billy pinning him against the cabinet. He kind of wonders if anyone's talked to him about it, or if it got lumped in with all the other weird terrifying shit going on.

“Because it isn't always Upside Down stuff,” Steve says softly.

Lucas goes quiet. “El says Hopper told her you guys fixed it so Billy would leave us alone.”

“I think Max did that well enough, but yeah, Hop and I had a plan.”

“How?” Lucas asks.

Bullshit, is how, Steve wants to say, but he doesn't. “Billy's on the basketball team, and he wants to stay on the basketball team.”

Lucas frowns. “So?”

“So I've been on the team longer than him. Coach knows me better, the guys are used to looking to me. Well - some of them.” In all fairness, the basketball team's been kind of split - some of them gravitating to him, some to Billy, some trickling back and forth like kids with divorced parents.

“So… you're one of the cool kids, and you like us, so the more douchebag ones stay away from us?” Lucas asks.

Steve's nose scrunches a little as he considers that, but it's… not wrong. “Yeah, I guess so. Most of them are good guys, they don't like bullying anymore than I do. It doesn't stop the ones who are assholes from doing it where we can't see it, but it helps.”

Lucas looks like he's considering that for a long moment, until finally he nods.

Steve thinks that's the end of it, but later, as Lucas is heading out to leave, he asks, “So what happens if you're not there, and you can't see it?”

Steve resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose - mostly because he knows it'll hurt like hell.

“The Y is offering self defense classes,” he says, when he's gotten himself under control. “I was thinking about taking one. You in?”

Lucas is in.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 4

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy

[miaoua3]

Hello! Can you write an sfw/nsfw headcannon version for soonyoung pls? Love your writing!🫰

hii! ofc i can, it would be my pleasure, i hope you enjoy this!

Husband! Hoshi Headcanons

•(sfw! hcs):

we all already know that he’s a cuddle bug, but the extent that his need to be touching you goes to is beyond what any of us could imagine. he’s constantly up in your space, touching you in any way possible. if you are doing chores around the house, instead of helping you by doing something, he will just hang onto your shirt and follow you around, talking animatedly. if you are sitting down, you better expect for his head to be resting on your shoulder

whenever he needs something, he just calls for you (aka screams “baaaabee!”through the house until you hear him and come to him lmao), doesn’t matter that most of the times the thing that he’s looking for is right in front of him, he’s a bit blind sometimes (or so he tells, in reality he does it because he finds your annoyed little pout so adorable)

instead of kissing, he loves to often rub your noses together as a sign of affection, something about just feels so silly and cute and domestic to him he can rarely resist the urge to do it, plus you always smile so brightly whenever he does it so its a win-win situation

he loves that with you he can be as childish and silly as he wants, that you will always join him in his silly missions to make everyone laugh, that you will always laugh along with him no matter how ridiculous and stupid his jokes are. he loves that you are his youth quite literally, and that with you along his side, he can climb on top of the world

three words: matching tiger pyjamas. you didn’t have much of a choice, really, he just bought them for you two one day, and as you tried to let him down gently, his big brown puppy eyes looked at you pleadingly, ready to say “please?” as you were about to refuse him, and suddenly you just sighed in defeat. so guess which pyjamas you two wear the majority of the month, except for the few says it takes to wash and dry them?

compliments you all the time-both when he intends to and when he isn’t even aware that what he said is considered a compliment. for example, if you are getting ready, doing your makeup or taking it off, he will just come behind you, hug you and while smiling say “you are so very pretty, the prettiest in this whole wide world. i must’ve saved korea as a nation in my past life to get the honour of having you in this life.”, or for the times when he is unaware of it-you were just looking at some flowers as you were walking through a botanic garden when he said “i don’t know much about flowers, but whenever i see this flower (points to a, say, hibiscus), it reminds me of you, because you both are so pretty and look so gentle.” bro isn’t even trying yet he got you crying

loves loves LOVES surprising you with at-home picnics, just as you walk through the door of your house, he’s running towards you, taking your hand so he can lead you to the living room where the stuff is all set up-the white bedsheet handing from two chairs, under the sheet fairy lights wrapped around the chairs, a blanket on the floor with lots and lots of food spread on it. he loves how it always makes you smile and how easy it is to make you happy

•(nsfw! hcs):

has stamina of a BEAST, like it isn’t enough that he seemingly gets boners all the time, the sight of your collarbones is enough to make him hug your from behind, slowly grinding his hips against your ass while he mumbles “please babe, lemme make you feel good hm? it’s been so long since i’ve fucked you, let me make you cum on my dick” (btw it hasn’t even been that long, you two had sex two days prior but ok lmao). the moment he sees you close your eyes, he knows he’s won. cue at least 3 hours of him pounding into you, his skin slapping against yours, both your skins burning from the force they meet. at some point you feel so exhausted that you just lay there, face in the pillow, while he holds your hips in the air as he fucks you from behind

is so enthusiastic about eating you out that he overstimulates you, not only are his fingers fast inside of your pussy, but he’s sucking on your clit so hard, it makes tears fall from your eyes very easily. he just wants you to feel so good (but also to squirt all over his face) that he can spend hours just lapping at your juices, mumbling “c’mom pretty girl, just one more, make a mess on my face, that’s what it’s for, it’s for you to sit on it and make yourself cum on it” bsjqbsjqkq

speaking of-dirty talk with him goes CRAAAZY, not even because he wants it to, he just says whatever it’s on his mind, his thoughts a mess thrown up the moment they appear in his mind. he’s a moaning mess, sucking hickeys into your skin, kissing you sloppily, all while he’s repeating “pussy so good, fuck, want to stay here forever. want to cum inside of you all the time, to make you full with my cum-shit, ahh, so tight, im gonna-“ cue more moaning and whining as he nears his end

on the same note- breeding kink. we all know that one clip where he said he wants a whole football team (thank you scoups for the metaphor lmao). and even now, he often talks about getting married and having kids, so i think the moment he put that ring on you, he got down to BUSINESS. i’m talking he soaks your pussy AND your sheets with hair cum, if he could, he would make you wear a plug so none of it spills out and that it’s 100% sure that you end up pregnant from it. the thoughts of your heavy, full and lactating breasts, your round belly, and a little girl that has a smile just like yours, haunt his dreams on the daily

he is unintentionally so rough, like not only does he manhandle you into positions that he needs you in, if you are too far gone to be listening to him, he will just grab you by your neck to get your attention, or pull on your hair so you can watch him fuck you in the mirror, eyes trained on your gaping mouth and bouncing tits. the thing is- he doesn’t do it out of the need to be dominant, it’s just that it’s a part of his fantasy, of exactly what he imagined for that night to be, so if you aren’t following it, he will take the matter into his own hands (quite literally).

he isn’t really sure why, but he loves it when you end up crying from the overstimulation and pleasure, and when you mascara runs down your cheeks. you just look so ruined, and it makes him feel so good and smug that he’s the only one that has the honour of seeing you sobbing for him to both stop and to cum inside of you, the only one who gets to squish your mascara stained cheeks together and make you focus on him, the only one that makes your legs tremble and shake every day. the only one that gets to fuck a baby into you. the only one you crave.

(act surprised for this one) he is low-key into collars. he isn’t all that sure about leashes, but a pretty little collar wrapped around your pretty neck? and if it has a heart shaped buckle? he is a goner. he won’t ever recover from the amount of fantasy material the sight gives him, how primal it makes him feel. plus the look you make whenever he puts two fingers through that heart shaped buckle and pulls you towards him by it? it will literally make him kneel in front of a god and thank him for that sight (not really something he should discuss with a god, yknow, given that it’s about your sex life and all that but eh, whatever lol)

[puck-luck]

wait plz for your 1k celly can I request your example of 7 of hearts Quinn breeding kink like that’s rlly EVERYTHING

warnings: no actual fucking, but allusions to previous encounters. the third installment of this breeding kink/pregnancy thing that i've been writing through these cellys. here is part one and part two. might even write a fourth if there's another request for Q's breeding kink in my list! (there probably is).

wc: 897

It’s a Sunday and Quinn doesn’t have a game today. Things are already wonderful just from those two facts alone, but you have a third little fact that you’ve been waiting to tell Quinn since last week. During his short roadie down to California, you’d peed on the stick and that second line appeared. An indescribable feeling washed over you– it was a rush of emotion that tapered off into a consistent feeling of happiness. 

You were excited to tell Quinn what was happening, but you wanted to make sure that it wasn’t a false positive. You’d made an appointment at your doctor’s office, a rushed one, and asked them to do some bloodwork to see if you were really pregnant– you were. After two months of trying, you were knocked up. Quinn’s baby was growing inside of you. It’s weird when you think about a baby actually growing in your body, but you’re ecstatic that it’s Quinn’s baby and you get to experience this together.

You’re tangled up in bed now. Your head is on Quinn’s chest, hand on his stomach, and his arm is wrapped around your shoulders. His eyes are closed and his breath is even. He’s awake, even though it doesn’t look like he is. 

“Quinn?” You murmur.

“Mm?” He hums. “I think my dick is broken, baby. Can’t fuck you right now.” He shifts, moving towards the edge of the bed. “Gonna go make us breakfast, I think. What do you want? Pancakes?”

“I wanna stay in bed with you,” you reply, tracing the birthmark on his chest. 

Quinn snuffles out a laugh, dropping a kiss on the crown of your head. “Not possible. We have to eat something. Let me go make something, then we can be lazy in the living room together.”

“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed,” you say, voice growing to a normal volume. You pick your head up and set your chin in his sternum, looking up at your boyfriend. 

Quinn’s eyes open a sliver, glinting down at you. “My dick doesn’t work anymore. Fucked you too good last night, sweetheart.”

He’s right, he did fuck you too good last night. You'd had no idea how much better sex was when you’re pregnant– but maybe it was the confirmation bias. You’d read that it was better and you were excited that Quinn was so eager to fuck you full of his child, unaware that he’d already succeeded, so you felt like it was better. You’ll have to keep track of your opinion during the pregnancy, just to make sure.

“Don’t need your dick to work anymore, Q,” you tell him coyly, a tiny little grin on your face. 

Quinn’s eyebrows pinch together, confused. “What do you mean?” He asks. “You don’t want to keep trying?”

You lay your head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Not that,” you tell him. “I just don’t think you can get me pregnant again.”

Quinn goes quiet and still. His heart is pounding beneath your ear. “What?” He questions, seeming like he’s holding his breath. “What did you say?”

You smile, turning and burying your face between his pecs. Your lips kiss over his sternum and where his heart is pounding against the bone– at least, that’s how it feels. He’s racing. “I wasn’t sure if it was a false positive, so I went to the doctor the other day, and I’m pregnant, Q. There’s a Hughes baby inside me right now.”

He stares at you, eyes wide and disbelieving. His mouth is open, jaw dropped wide.

You snort out a laugh and grab his arm, placing his hand on your abdomen. “The baby and I would like to be lazy in bed with Daddy all day, please.” You’re just teasing him now, trying to get a reaction from him.

“Are you actually?” Quinn demands, springing back to life. His eyes are darting all over his face and he’s craning his neck so that he can look down at you properly. “You’re not just fucking with me?”

“Do you want me to go get the pregnancy test and the doctor’s note?” You ask, laughing.

“No! No,” Quinn says, his voice loud and excited. “I can get it. You relax.” He kicks the covers off, but you wrap your arms around his stomach and try to hold him there. He’s strong, so he moves anyway. “Where is it?”

“It’s only been a few weeks, Q, I can still move around,” you laugh. “They’re in the bottom drawer in the bathroom with all my random things. Come back here when you’re done, I wasn’t kidding about cuddling with my baby-daddy all day.” Your last sentence is a call after him, because as soon as you told Quinn where the items were, he was on the move. You can hear him throwing open the drawer and rifling around. 

You laugh, laying flat on your back and placing a hand on your belly. You’re not showing, not even close, but you know that there’s something in there. A little baby, made completely from yours and Quinn’s love. That knowledge, paired with Quinn’s excitement when he comes rushing back into the room and pounces on you, wrapping you in a hug and kissing over your face, pregnancy test clasped in his hand, makes this the best day of your life.

[10byten]

Soft Spot for u

- When you started college, one of the student associations assigned you a senior mentor. Back then, you never thought you'd still be friends with him as you enter your final year, while he’s already long graduated. Even less that he’d be the guy of your dreams—the one who makes your heart race. -

Words : 2.6K

You’ve never been much of a party girl. Well, not in the “nightlife scene” kind of way. But a night owl ? That’s totally you. Staying up late doing all the things the daytime doesn’t allow ? That’s your jam. Especially when you’re spending those nights with him.

Since your freshman year, Yuta has been your go-to for late-night hangs: studying, laughing, bickering, drinking, and dancing. You quickly adapted to his vibe - even though, unlike you, he thrives in the nightlife. He loves hopping from on-campus parties to the city’s best clubs. For Yuta, you’d adjust to anything. Normally, you’re not big on people or physical contact, but with him, it’s different.

The first time he asked you to join him at a party, you tagged along, thinking, Why not? At least I’ll have a story to tell. You didn’t like dancing in public—the stares, the unwanted touches—but his touch? That was different. Before long, you were showing up to every party he invited you to, becoming a campus party regular.

Little did they know, you hated parties. You only went for him. For those moments on the dancefloor when his hands rested protectively on your hips, silently warning other guys to back off. It drove you crazy that it felt more big brotherly than anything else. But when you danced together, something shifted. He wasn’t being protective—just… present.

You’ve always wanted to make a move, but the fear of losing him held you back. If he hadn’t made the first move, it probably meant your feelings weren’t mutual. Right? But honestly, just being by his side was better than being with anyone else.

Yuta changed you—not just in how you see relationships, but in how you see life. He was more than a mentor for academics; he pulled you out of your comfort zone and into a brighter, more open world.

Waiting for him to pick you up tonight, you’re lost in thought, touching up your makeup as Keshi’s Soft Spot plays in the background. Your phone buzzes.

Yuta: Be there in 2 mins, love.

You grin, his name lighting up your screen. Gosh, this man owns my heart.

When you hop on his bike, he whistles, eyes raking over your silver sequin dress.

“You planning to set the campus on fire tonight? I don’t remember telling you to outshine me, little miss.”

“No one’s hotter than you, Yuta.” You flirt back, the way you always do when he compliments you. It gives you butterflies every time.

He smirks, giving you a playful smack on the thigh. “Flattery’ll get you far, baby. Keep it up.”

At the party, Yuta, as usual, commands attention. Walking in with him feels like entering as a rockstar’s date—his magnetic aura turning every head. You join his friends—Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung—who’ve already lined up shots.

Johnny hands you a suspiciously colorful concoction. You sniff it. “Johnny, is this safe? Because I really don’t want to start the semester in the ER.”

Everyone laughs, and Taeyong teases, “Sometimes I forget you’re still in school. Those were the days…”

Shots clink, faces grimace, and the party kicks off. But soon, the buzz, the chaos, and the alcohol start working their magic on your senses. All you want is to dance—with him.

The noise, the games, the music, the chaos of people chatting and singing along, all the stuff happening around you, mixed with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, has your senses on high alert. And now, you only want one thing—to dance with him. You’ve shared him with the crowd long enough, and now it’s your turn. Just you and him, in your world, even if it’s just for a bit.

You leave Jungwoo and Kai behind, still going at that ridiculous card game where every rule somehow ends in "take a sip." It’s funny as hell, you can admit that, but nah—right now, you need him. It’s all you can think about.

You find him at the bar, mid-conversation. You head toward him, sitting by the counter, your mind racing with one single thought: you wanna throw your arms around his neck and kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. His legs are spread like he’s waiting just for you, a couple of messy strands of hair falling into his eyes, and his half-unbuttoned shirt teasing you with a glimpse of that stunning belly piercing and a peek at his tattoo.

You stop in front of him, hesitating for a second. He’s still chatting with Taeyong but doesn’t miss a beat, sliding an arm around your waist like, yeah, I know you’re here. That little gesture? making you go crazy, and without a second thought, grab his wrist and pull him to the dancefloor. Pressed against him, your bodies move in sync, his hands on your hips, his breath on your neck. Butterflies? More like fireworks. 

He’s totally getting with your vibe, moving with you like he’s reading your mind. When you turn around, you catch that huge smile lighting up his face—and wow, it’s the kind of smile that hits you right in the gut. He’s loving this moment, and it’s setting off a full-on butterfly storm in your stomach.

You kinda wish his smile wasn’t this attractive, this unfairly cute, this stupidly sexy. Because all you can think about is kissing him senseless. Like, right now.

You keep getting closer, grinding up against him more, and for some reason tonight, you’re feeling extra bold. You slide your fingers into his, guiding his hand to trace your curves in a way that’s definitely more suggestive than usual. Yuta doesn’t just go along with it—he’s into it. His response is all green lights, like his body is totally in tune with yours, wanting this as much as you do.

You feel his breath on your neck as you press your back against his chest, and yeah, it’s short. Is he... out of breath because of you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and without even thinking, you push your hips back against him, swaying like it’s second nature.

And then you feel it—him. Hard. For you.

That’s the last green light you need. You turn, locking eyes, fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him, pouring years of longing into it. He kisses back—hungry, desperate.

Next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit laundry room, pinned against the door as his lips crash back onto yours. His hands are everywhere, his voice dripping with desire.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s pure, raw desire. Like, where the hell has he been hiding all this? Not that it matters—you’re practically melting in his hands. Your skin’s on fire, and it feels like your blood is boiling. He’s gonna make you explode, like you’re some freaking nuclear reactor on the verge of meltdown.

The only way you can even begin to handle this insane craving is by biting his bottom lip, cutting the kiss short. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and there’s this spark in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“I didn’t know you had this bad girl side,” he says, smirking. “You’ve always been my sweet, innocent Y/n.”

“Not that innocent I guess, if only you knew about my dirty secret.” 

“Hmm tell me more baby” you smile hearing the petname he gave you, you love it soo much. 

“I touch myself so many times, soaking my panties, just thinking ‘bout you” 

He groan “You didn’t.” 

“I can’t even count how many times since I know you, you’re my favorite fantasm.” You say a lil bit shyly. 

He looks into your eyes, a proud smile on his face. “Then allow me to make the fantasy come true.”  He takes hold of your dress, so small that it doesn't take much effort for him to expose your already soaked thong. He slides two fingers over your pussy to caress you through the fabric.

“You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” he growls, fingers brushing against the lace of your underwear.

“Only for you, daddy,” you whisper, testing the nickname that’s been on your mind for way too long.

He freezes, then smirks. “Gosh, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

You've never been so willing in your life. You only dream of one thing: his tongue on you and IN you. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder to get better access. You feel his breath on your inner thigh and you moan at the sensation alone. 

“Oh god.” He look at you, from the bottom and smirk “You can call me Yuta.” And with those words he wraps your whole soaking pussy in his mouth. First he eats you through the fabric of your thong. Then, using his fingers, he shifts it to the side. He flicks his tongue up and down your folds and then concentrates on your clitoris, sucking gently. The stimulation sends you into heaven, you feel as if you've left this earth. And then he starts playing at your entrance with one of his fingers, looking at you “Want me to get inside baby girl?”

“Yes, please, yes !”

 “Your wish is my command.”

He takes hold of your clit again, nibbling lightly, then gently and deliciously slides a finger into your pussy, soon adding a second, which you welcome as a blessing. You try to be as quiet as possible, but your little cries and sobs excite Yuta even more. He picks up the pace and eats you up like he's starving, tasting you like you’re his last meal, you’re trembling. Soon you feel your orgasm coming on and you press down on Yuta's shoulder as if to let him know you're about to burst. He smiles, "Let it go baby, I'm here for you.” You feel the most powerful orgasm you've ever had in your life rushing through you. And this time you can't help yourself, you moan his name out loud and pray that no one else walks by at the same time. He stands up and sucks on each of his two fingers in front of you. Then he slides his tongue back into your mouth. 

“I think you can still feel yourself on my tongue, so much that I've sucked you in.” You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting more, but Yuta slows the pace. “Maybe we should slip away before we're noticed.

You slip out quietly, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. On the way back, you’re still all sensitive from the way he completely wrecked you earlier. When Yuta pulls up in front of your dorm, he looks a little more hesitant than before. Still, you invite him to come up with you for a bit.

As you close the door to your apartment, you see him sitting on the couch, his hands covering his face like he’s deep in thought. But you don’t stop to overthink it—he’s already given you too much tonight for you to back down now. You climb onto his lap and kiss him, slow and intense. He kisses you back but suddenly pulls away.

“Wait,” he says, looking at you seriously. “I need to understand what’s happening here. Like, what are we doing right now?”

You stare at him, confused. “Do you want a diagram or something?”

“No, I mean, seriously. Isn’t this, like, a bad idea? I’m older than you, and you’re totally wasted. I am too, actually.”

“So what?”

“So yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ll probably regret it tomorrow. I don’t want to mess things up between us. You mean a lot to me and—”

You cut him off with a dramatic wave, making it clear he needs to stop talking immediately. “This is unreal. Stop seeing me as the clueless first-year kid who doesn’t know anything and needs a protector. Yuta, I don’t want a protector—I want you.”

He just stares at you, speechless.

“I got a soft spot for you, from the very beginning,” you continue, your voice shaking with the weight of the truth. “And honestly, I’ve been hoping every single day since we met that one day you’d wake up and feel the same. But you’ve always had this big brother vibe, and God, it’s been killing me, because I love your attention, I love how affectionate you are, and how you’re always there for me. But Yuta, I want so much more than that. I never said anything because I didn’t want to scare you off or ruin what we have. But seriously, I’ve been into you since day one. So please, stop being my bro—be my lover. Tonight, I felt like it was now or never. There was this moment, this chance, and hell, it’s my last year. I want to leave this university finally dating the guy I’ve been crushing on since freshman year. So if you’re not into it, just say it, but please stop looking at me like I’m some little kid and start seeing the woman I could be by your side.”

Yuta’s lips crash onto yours, giving you the single greatest kiss of your life.

“So you’ve been this into me for all this time, and you never said a word?” he teases, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yuta, please. I’m not exactly the most social person, but I’ve spent practically all my time with you. I hate parties, yet I’ve been at them every week since I met you. I HATE octopus, but I learned how to make Takoyaki like a pro. I think Naruto is the most boring anime ever, but I binged every damn season. Why do you think I did all that? For who?” you shoot back, exasperated.

“Uh… sorry?” he mutters sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize. Honestly, I love most of those things now because they remind me of you, or they’re just so you. I don’t force myself. If it means spending time with you, it’s always worth it in the end.”

He smiles at you, soft and affectionate.

“I’ll admit, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years too,” he says quietly. “But the age gap always felt like too much. And I had this mentor role, you know? I didn’t want to look like some creepy older guy. More than that, I didn’t want to lose you or ruin what we have.”

Your heart pounds at his words. So he doesn’t see you as some desperate little kid, and, more importantly, the guy of your dreams feels the same way about you.

“Can you say it out loud, though? Just once?” you tease him.

“I got a soft spot for you, Y/n.”

“No, no, no, you can do better than that.”

He chuckles, running his tongue along his cheek, clearly amused but knowing you’re not letting this go.

“I got a big crush on you.”

Your smile stretches ear to ear, and you crash your lips against his again. He responds instantly, sliding his tongue against yours, his hands moving to your hips as he pulls you closer. Then, without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to your room, laying you gently on the bed.He trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “If you play your cards right tonight, sweetheart, you just might get me to admit I maybe am in love with you by the end of it.”

[afreakingdork]

Hi hi! I saw you were doing requests for a small fee of justice!

I don't really have a request, at least not one I can articulate very well 😅

Because all my brain can come up with is "kiss that motherfucker (Donnie) on the forehead!"

Don't know what you can do with that, don't even have to do anything at all. I just support the cause.

Writing Request: Reader x Donnie's Forehead 🤦

LOOK AT YOU GIVING ME A PLACE TO SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT. YOU'VE NEVER HEARD DORK MAKE FUN OF DONNIE'S FOREHEAD AND YOU NEVER WILL. BOOM NOW YOU LET ME MAKE THAT CANON!

Since the poll closes in the AM, I'm about to close up shop seeing as I'll have sleep until then, but please, keep sharing and voting Hassan/Mikey in this poll. Tell all your friends! Fandom or not!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

All ages sweetness below!

"And Mikey said 'you know, like you don't have rhythm." What did he mean?" You swayed a little in demonstration.

Donnie watched on.

Quiet.

Too Quiet.

"Donatello." You warned.

"You move with the rhythm of your heart." He spoke with faux sweetness and moved to grab your hand.

You let him lead you in a dancing circle, but didn't feel the least bit whisked away.

"You're a giving dance partner." He tried again.

He meant that.

When you found out he loved to dance, you broke out of your shell to join him. He'd been patient in the process, but you had also tried your hardest. Even when he wasn't the most patient teacher, the two of you spent long hours working on steps. It meant when you executed a maneuver it came with an even sweeter join that you both bathed in and danced again for.

"A charitable partner all around." He snapped your waist to his and leaned down to steal a kiss.

That helped the most and you returned it.

He pulled away and smiled satisfactorily at his job well done.

"But I don't have rhythm."

His success disappeared in an instance. "Dearest..."

"No, no. Just..." You pushed on him lightly. "Not upset with you."

"Understood." He allowed himself to be moved.

"Give it to me straight."

He nodded this compliance.

"If Mikey noticed and you noticed..."

He waited patiently.

"How obvious is it to everyone else?"

His cheeks whined with the size of his grimace.

"No way!" You had to walk an angry circle. "Seriously?! Everyone!?"

"It's... been mentioned once before."

"They talk about it all the time!" You bemoaned.

"We dance! We go out! The others see and well... You know how my family is."

"I'm a blight." You hunched in horror. "Oh! Oh!! At Leo's birthday last year! In that club when I went to meet him on the dance floor. When you were getting us drinks! He sent me straight back to our table! He didn't want to be seen with me! Oh no!!"

"That...!" Donnie had never been the best liar and in light of your years together he gave in. "Yes. That was his concern."

"How long!?"

"Pardon?"

"How long have they all known!?" You lurched toward him. "How long have they been embarrassed to be seen with me!?"

"They aren't embarrassed exactly. Maybe something more like... They'd rather distant their obvious association when a groove is involved."

You waited a beat.

Donnie seemed hopeful.

"That's not better!" You squawked.

"Oh, well-!" He sought for another.

"No!" You put your hands on him again and traced the lines of his plastron to soothe yourself. "This sucks. I'm going to be upset about it because I didn't know for, I don't know, ever and that is insanely humiliating, but it's... I know now so..."

"I want to keep dancing with you." He covered your hands loosely so you could keep following lines.

You almost smiled for it. "How have you endured it. You're a literal Bootyyyshaker."

He exhaled affection. "You are a giving dance partner. You are fantastic at mirroring moves. I believe you might also remember a particular night at the roller disco?"

He sought your gaze and when you met, it triggered the memory.

Colored lights and a disco ball set the scene.

You had driven pretty far for the rink and getting your legs for the blades was a learning curve, but there had been a moment at the height of one song where each Hamato fell in line and you glided straight out of a movie.

You returned to Donnie and finally felt a little better. "I was good then?"

"Fantastic. Not a beat missed. You do best with a lead. Your attention to detail when accompanying another is unparalleled. Your tenacity to learn is impeccable."

You leaned into him. "Okay, okay..."

"Better?" He kissed your forehead.

It reminded you of something. "Yeah, we all have that thing."

"We certainly do not all suffer from the same affliction." Donnie was happy to soothe your faults, but insulting his dancing skills was off limits.

You bumped him lightly with your hip. "I meant we all have that thing. That little flaw."

"Right." Donnie's lids lowered with some irritation. "My penchant for correction. Stubbornness or the like."

"Well, no. It's not usually something like that." Your head tilted. "It's not really a big flaw. Not something that requires growth. It's more like something you do that's an annoying habit."

"I can't think of-"

"Or a thing about you. Like how you're forehead is huge."

Donnie's mouth snapped shut.

"Oh! No, I know you know this! You made those gifts once! I can't remember the other two, but Leo's puns! I'm so glad I wasn't around for those."

Your partner's lips flapped.

"But that's still a verbal quirk. I'm trying to think of a physical one..."

He brushed your arms.

"Oh! I know! Mikey's stickers being holographic! It's so annoying when he catches the light and blinds you!" You tapped him as you thought of a good comparison.

Donnie was staring at you like he was about to cry.

Your own features immediately dropped. "Donnie?! Oh no, what's wrong?"

"My forehead's big?"

You stared.

His brows bunched.

The fact that he had the room on his mask to draw them as expressive as he did should have been clue enough.

You checked over him again.

He was steadfast in his desperation.

He really didn't know.

"Oh... Oh, Donnie..." You tried to touch him.

He turned in a dramatic twirl that let tears flick from his face. "I'm hideous!"

"You are not!" You gave chase.

He stormed right around his lab. "Don't look at me!"

"Donnie, no!!"

You double backed and found he was blinding running.

You caught him and he collapsed in your arms. "You're being silly!"

"This is nothing compared to your dancing!"

"Donnie!" You tried to hold him up, but he refused.

He gasped suddenly.

"What?"

"Tic-tac-toe!" He was up and pulled you with him to his computer.

You watched on as he pulled up footage of him demanding from his brother's why there was smudges on his mask.

They all babbled on with obvious guilt, but never gave a response.

Donnie typed at the speed of light and got another video up where they were able to get to his sleeping form in between camera feeds and snickered to themselves as they did something to him.

"I thought it looked suspiciously familiar but I never placed it! They were playing-" He turned horror on you. "-on my head!!"

You forced your lips into a line.

"You'd laugh!? You'd laugh at my shame!"

"No!" You blurted out.

"You would!"

He had been honest with you and the guilt of not doing the same consumed you.

You had to ball you fists to steel yourself.

"It's... It's a funny idea! At least they didn't draw a you-know-what there!"

Donnie paled. "They might have!!"

He was back to his computer and searching through footage.

You watched on as his brow creased.

It was markers of his age.

His intelligence.

His wisdom.

He was undeniably handsome.

His forehead never seemed out of proportion to you, but many others joked about it.

You thought he knew.

Others probably thought the same of you and your dancing.

Oblivious to the obvious until pointed out.

"Donnie..." You fanned your fingers over his bicep.

"In a moment, I think I remember the night. It was after we celebrated the 19th year of Pizza Fest."

"Just for a second..."

"I'm close the date was...? Oh, what year was it!?"

"Please." You squeezed his arm.

He heard your tone.

A clear and concise request had been laid out.

You both agreed to defer when that happened.

He looked to you a little weepy.

"Donnie, I love you." You took his cheeks.

"Even with my big brow, my titanic temple, my fat frons!?"

You pulled him down.

His brows knit a said pair.

You kissed them first.

They didn't budge.

You kissed down the middle.

His brow was still wrinkled.

You kissed each ridge.

His expression loosened.

You kissed with more fervor.

You kissed faster.

You kissed all over his head and with a tenacity that knocked his goggles off.

He had no choice, but to laugh. "Stop, stop!"

"I love you. I love all of you. If you have a big forehead, I love that too because there's more of you to kiss."

He waited out a stubborn tick that had his foot bouncing.

You gave him one last peck on the side of the head.

He scooped you up in a hug. "You'd swear on it? On my life which is yours and thus precious!"

"Obviously!" You giggled.

"Alright..."

You settled against him and felt the faint tightness in his body. "You still want to find that clip though?"

"Yes! I will repay their doodles a thousand fold!! I will mark all their glaring flaws! Aid me!"

You laughed. "Okay, okay, but only for you."

"Who's first? It must be Leo."

"No butt."

"We'll humiliate all his cushions! Switch them for less padding! He'll be uncomfortable until his confrontation with his deformity."

You scolded him about language, but helped him plan his pranks nonetheless.

[bonetrousledbones]

okay with The Bullshit inevitably going through here are what i believe to be the ideal settings to mitigate fueling it in a way that's realistic. from what i've read glaze & nightshade aren't actually very effective & require insane computer specs just to put a shittification filter on your art that can literally be broken by resizing it so i don't think i'm gonna bother with it. i think the fact that these settings exist at all is at the very least a good sign that staff doesn't want this shit either, and the opt-in default is likely a result of a contract or something. i'm not an expert on this by ANY means so please please look into it yourselves, but this is what i think would be helpful for me at least

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Sometimes, I feel Kyoko is like the Bonnie of Trigger Happy Havoc.

This sounds very weird to say but hear me out. Or... read me out since this is text.

This is unserious by the way but also a part of me is curious cus my gosh is she a hassle to find a good color to consistently give her.

Basically, in FNAF, the consensus on what the hell Bonnie is colored is all over. Is he blue? Is he purple? Indigo? It's always been questioned. Meanwhile, with Kyoko, though I haven't seen a ton of discussion around this, like, what IS her hair color. Actually. Cus sure. She's always been associated with purple and when you color pick her hair, it's almost always near the purple part of the color wheel. But also like, what color IS her hair?

I've seen it been drawn more purple, sometimes even white or silver. Hell! Her hair is described as silver in the first chapter of the game! So, what gives! Like, it's never consistent, even in official artwork!

Case in point:

This is how pale her sprite hair is btw

Also, it's not that any other character's been consistent with this in the series. Then again, at least I can tell that Byakuya's blonde, Makoto's a brunette, that Sakura has white hair and that Leon's a red head.

Plus, I feel that the shade of her hair is what MAKES it look purple. Which leads me to question more. Is it leaning closer to white? Silver? Does she just have purple undertones but it's not actually purple. And like, did her purple hair lighten with age or something cus novel Kyoko's hair is a lot more obviously purple compared to when we first me the girl. Or, does she dye it? Like, make it look like a darker purple in Dr3? Would she even have access to hair dye with the state of the world?!

And like, girl, I get it. You got your mysterious bit going on. But, dang it girl! Pick a lane!

[autumnrory]

woooo my niece took 5 of my 13 lego sets, one of which was one of the three larger ones, so that's one huge box out of the way and i'm just glad she wanted them because like they ARE twenty years old and they look fine ofc but sometimes kids aren't gonna want stuff that isn't new and shiny ya know, but she did seem to want everything which would've been fine with me but i knew there was no way they would take all that with them, and at least i still have stuff of my own to sell, plus should get at least a cut of my brother's stuff for doing the inventory and putting together that stuff that wasn't already done

[deviousdiesel]

.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[saturdaymournings]

can’t tell if I’m happy or not tbh but something is up in my brain and it’s crazy shit. Like I’m not even stressed about the stressy I’m just. Vibes