#disappears off tumblr for like two months

[scatterbrainedbot]

redraw of one of my very first tmnt drawings!!

had meant to do it exactly the one year later mark, but i blinked and suddenly april was may was june -- so ended up being more like a year and 1.5 months lol

May 11th, 2024 vs. April 6th, 2023

its so funny seeing them nest to each other now, but i remember when i finished the first version last year, i was so proud to have finally made a proper 'finished' piece.

like, yall, i struggled for years to every be able to create a piece i would ever call close to 'done'. part of that is me being a very knit-picky kinda person, and wanted to continue to tweak everything all of the time forever, but on top of that i also do work slow af, and before last year i didnt really have access to any digital media. and i love traditional mediums, but im defintiely not practiced enough to be able to get the results i was looking for with any sort of speed. like im genuinely not sure i created a single 'finished' work in my life -- not in school, not in work, not even in the free space of silly fandom doodles.

and then this piece happened!

and i knew even then that it was messy and rough af, but it had a background!! and color!! sure, the linework wasnt polished at all but still, for a silly little fanart? it was defined enough to distinguish the separate characters, and read expressions! there was even a little tiny bit of lighting!! i hate lighting!!

seeing the two versions side by side honestly i kinda have to laugh at how Rough the first version looks now. but you know what. im still so so proud of it. the colors are muddy, theres no shift in value; their clothing designs arent at all defined, leos teeth look weird af and theres lines on caseys face that are definitely from me accidentally dragging my fingers across the tablet when i didnt mean to but like. its there! its finished! i did it!

idk. ive never had a piece ive ever wanted to hang on my own fridge before. :)

[palladium-poisoned]

it's like raaaiiinnn

[mahoushojoe]

do yall know who i am 😭😭😭 yall im nima nejihguyas please i think a lot of my mutuals think im someone else 😭😭😭

[romulusthethird]

Demon Twins AU Prompt

Okay, so reading the dozens of DC X DP prompts and stories on Tumblr incites the juices as it wont to do, and I have an idea! Basically, at the barebones of this idea, is that, unlike the usual demon twins fics, where Dami kills Danny and he ends up in Amity, or the ones where he fakes his death, and all that jazz (heh)-- my idea is that they both... came out wrong. Neither of them are capable of dying. They grow up together, in the league, constantly killing each other. The wounds heal, but the scars remain. There are other abilities, like they're faster, stronger, and they have a quirk (in this case, Danny can still fly, and lets say Dami can disappear, become one with the shadows). They would kill for each other, and won't stand any slight against the other, but they also fucking hate each other and they spend half the time killing the other.

--

Immortal Demon Twins AU part 1

It is a glorious day in Nanda Parbat. It is their birthday, the tenth year of their existence. There will be a celebration, as expected of the grandsons of the Demon's Head, and they will be showered with gifts and given the day off from training and their tutors. However, at the end of the day, there will be a test.

The usual ritual, fighting their mother for the chance to learn about, and eventually someday meet, their father. Bruce Wayne. The Batman. Prince of Gotham, billionaire, vigilante, leader of the Justice League.

Danny doesn't care about the man at all, but Damien wanted to meet him, and as much as he hates his brother, he wasn't going to get in his way. He doesn't participate in the fights, but he watches, and if the boy was too injured after, he'd give the finishing blow. Their wounds healed in death, and it was nothing more than torture to make him heal over a course of months what could heal in hours.

Danny woke his brother up at the sun's rise, leaping onto the bed with a dagger in hand. "Rise and shine, ahki al'asghar~"

Dami's eyes snap open, alert despite the fog still clouding them. He kicks out, shoving his brother off him. "Danny. It's too early."

"Nonsense. It's our birthday. The tenth one. You survived ten years, ahki al'asghar."

Dami scowls. "No thanks to you."

Danny taps the jagged scars on his throat. "A for effort." Danny had given it to the other boy when they were five, not yet fully used to his strength nor the sword in his hands. His brother had bled out, but was alive less than nine hours later. That wasn't the first time he'd died, and it wasn't the last.

Dami laughs, "I got an eye in return, didn't I?" He did. Danny was blind in his right eye, an injury that healed on its own. It's why they'd died so many times. Easier to heal when their hearts had stopped. If they don't, it would lead to things like his eye or Dami's missing pinky finger.

"Whatever. The sun is up, let's go to the baths before they get crowded! Yalla!"

Damien clicks his tongue. "khalas."

Danny grins, teeth a touch too sharp, and physically drags his reluctant, "younger by fifteen seconds!" twin to the bathhouse to wash off before their morning absolutions.

It went by quickly, with only one attempted drowning, and they end up eating a hearty breakfast with all of their favorite foods like Dami's falafel with cream cheese (gross) and his own special meal of chocolate cereal and milk. Dami turned his nose up at the count chocolate cereal and said, "Your teeth are going to rot."

"They regenerate."

Dami sniffs in reply, taking a bigger bite of tomato, chickpeas, and cream cheese.

"You're disgusting." Danny grimaces at the boy, shuffling away from him and his gross food.

He catches the knife thrown at him, scoffing at the tiny blade.

He doesn't know who throws the first punch, but he's missing a tooth at the end (Dami throws it at him and taunts, "regenerate that").

It's only the "Habibi" call of his mother that stalls the two preteens. They pause from their position on the floor, chunks of artificial chocolate cereal and tomato in their hair and on their clothes, Dami's hands grabbing Danny's longer hair while Danny's hands are on his throat.

"Boys." She sighs. "Just because it is your birthday does not mean you can act like ruffians in the kitchen. Go clean up. We have to start the festivities."

Danny groans, leaning up and shoving his brother off him. "I hate them, you know I hate them. Grandfather's friends are so stuffy and boring, and the rest just stand there, like statues."

She raises an eyebrow at him, which causes the older boy (by fifteen seconds!) to whine and groan, before walking out the door, back to the bathhouse. He hears her tell Dami to "behave" and grins.

--

"Are you ready, Habibi?" His mother asks his twin, hours later, at the time of dusk, drawing her sword in the courtyard. Damien's response is to grab his own katana and get into a battle stance, lowering his legs, and raising his sword, pointing it at her.

"I am ready, mother."

Danny watches. Like every year since they were old enough to understand the concept of a father. He doesn't want to meet him, doesn't feel the need to have a father when he had Mother and Dami, as much as the boy annoyed him.

"Don't die." He says, just before he banged the gong.

It's fast, seconds turning into minutes as their swords clash loudly, his mother dodging more than she parried or went on the offense. She was defending more than usual, letting Dami wack and whirl and stab and hit. It confuses him, but he continues to watch.

He won't interfere, regardless of the outcome.

That doesn't lessen his surprise when Dami wins.

No, when their mother lets him win.

She smiles the little smile she gets when she is victorious and says, "You have won, Damien. That means you are worthy of meeting your father."

And-- what?

This doesn't make any sense. Danny knows what these meetings are; false hope for something that was never going to happen. A simple way to keep their youngest in line. It had worked with their oldest, Danishara (he goes by Dan). It had worked with Athanasia, who died trying to meet the man years ago. He doesn't know what happened to her, just that mother put her in the Lazarus Pit, and she never came out.

"You and Danny leave tonight."

What? "But Mother, I don't want to meet him. Let me stay. I don't want to go!"

"You'd leave your brother alone, and defenseless? Think of what happened to your sister. I cannot lose another child, Danyal." Danny cringes. His sister had been alone, on a mission, trying to prove herself, and had drawn too much attention in the process. Enemies of Ra's had caught the thirteen-year-old and killed her. It had been two years since then. Dan still hasn't gotten over it, and nor has Ellisha, another sister of theirs. They don't see them often, Ellie is often in some reach of the world, and rarely comes back to NP, while Dan is running his own underground mercenary group out of Russia. They never see any of their family. Not Dusan, their khaal, or Nyssa, their Khala.

"He can't die."

"We never know what will happen until it happens, Habibi."

He knew it was a lost cause, but still, he tried to argue. "Go with him to Gotham, get him settled, and if you really want to come back, you can."

"Really?"

"I swear it."

And so, Danny agrees, pensive and upset, and follows his brother, whose lips would not stop quirking up, to their room to pack. "I am unsure about this," he tells the other boy when they are alone. "We do not know this man, nor his children--"

"We are the blood children," Damien cuts in. "That is all that matters. He will love us, just like Mother does."

Danny hums in discontention. "I don't think blood matters to him, but he already has other blood children. That woman... Helena is also his blood."

"She is a girl, it's different." Damien says, but Danny can see he too is worried.

"What if he doesn't love us? What if all he sees is... well, us?"

"What's wrong with us?" Damien shoots back, angrily shoving robes into his bag. "We are mighty and strong. We do not die. We excel in everything we are taught."

"We also kill. Maim. Torture. We are... we are not like his other children."

"I thought you didn't care about him-- about having a father."

"I don't," Danny said quickly, reluctantly revealing, "I looked into him, though. I wanted to know if we look like him or Mother. While we resemble him, we take too much from Mother. We don't look like his brood--pale, with blue eyes. Kids he took off the street. We were planned, designed, raised with expectations. Our skin, our features, the green in our eyes is all Mother and Grandfather, and I fear he won't look past that. It doesn't help that Mother's advice is 'take out the competition' like that will endear us to the man."

"...I still want to meet him."

"I know, Ahki. I know."

Danny zipped up his bag. "Maybe when we're there, we can see about seeing Dan or Ellie again."

That cheered up his brother, and it sickened Danny--how nice he was being to the annoyance. Just so he wouldn't forget his place, Danny shoved the boy into a suit of armor, ignoring his outraged scream as the spear stabbed the other boy in the stomach.

"I'll see you on the plane, ahki al'asghar."

--

Danny wakes to drool on arm, the weight of his brother leaning against him, warm and reassuring. His Mother sits across from them.

She is looking out the window, as the sun rises, catching her pale green eyes in its rays. She is beautiful. She is a cold, calculated killer that claims to love Danny and his brother. Loved them even as they tore from her recently revived body in the waters of the Lazarus Pool--much to the glee of their Grandfather.

She is strong.

She is his mother.

She is scheming.

"Why now?"

She looks back at him, eyes soft in a way they almost never are in the treacherous walls of their keep.

"Does he even know we exist?"

Her eyes look down at his brother and then back up to him. "Because I love you."

He blinks. Their family was never one for vocal terms of affection or declarations. Why would she--

Ah. "It's him, isn't it?"

She doesn't ask who he is referring to.

"Athanasia died, Danyal." She glances out the window again. "Danishara and Ellisha... You are so young, Habibi. You are all so young. I had my oldest when I was young."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She huffs a small, amused laugh. She smiles at him in a way she's never before. "You are both so much like your father."

Danny scowls. "Am not."

"It is not a bad thing. You inhabit all of our best qualities. You and your siblings."

"Will he really like us? Accept us? I know what outsiders think of the league, Mother. I am not naive. He- He has children."

"He does." She agrees. "three boys and two girls."

"Why would he want more?"

She mulls over that, and then says, "Do you know why Dan and Ellie never met their father?"

Danny shrugs. "I had ideas."

"When I was young," she starts, "I fell in love with a boy. He was too pretty to be real, and I wanted him to be mine. They were the result." She pauses. "He disappeared shortly after that, and I never saw him again. There is no way for them to meet him and even after searching for the entirety of your Ellie's life, he has no appeared on this Earth. You deserve to know your father."

She stands up. "Let me see how long it will take to land."

She leaves, both of her children mulling over her words in her wake. "We will always have each other," Damien whispers. A sign of weakness that Danny does not exploit. He looks out the window, hand shoved against his brother's. He says nothing when the other boy clasps his fingers with his own.

He does nothing when he continues to hold his hand to the car, and even still, tighter, until they are at the manor of one Bruce Wayne.

It is a waiting game, then. Looking perfect and pristine in the foyer of this grand mansion.

No one is there to greet then when they slip inside. Not until Mother checks her watch, rolls her eyes, and walks back over to the door to trip an alarm. They tumble in like baby chicks, misty-eyed and in uniforms they rushed to put on.

"Beloved." Mother greets the one standing in the middle, wearing all black, ready to defend his gaggle of sidekicks. "I see time has done you wonders."

"Talia," he growls. Danny has never heard anyone talk to his mother with such disrespect. He itches to take out his sword and strike down the slag, but it is only the knowledge that he is their father, and Damien's hand in his that stopped him. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to give you a gift," she says, smiling despite the coldness in her eyes.

"We don't want it," Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne says, "So you can just leave."

"It is not up to you, little bird." She reponds. "This is between myself, my beloved, and his children."

The boy flinches, its small, but noticable. A weakness.

""He is my child, Talia. So, I'll ask again: what do you want?"

She looks at him for a time, studying his face, before she chuckles. "Very well, beloved. Come here, Habibis."

The bats look confused, until Damien and Danny step away from the wall, seeming to appear out of thin air. The air is tense, and the bats are readying to fight when they stop at their mother's side.

She grabs their shoulders and pushes them forward.

"Beloved, meet our children. This is Damien," she gestures to his brother, "and this is Danny. Say hello boys."

Damien grunts while Danny looks up at the man-- their father. He doesn't look like much, truly. A tired old man, tense, with wide, bright blue eyes.

"Is this a joke? Do you think this is funny, Talia?"

"You can run all the tests you want, Beloved, but they are yours."

Danny looks at the three children behind Batman, older than them. Cassandra, Timothy, and Helena. Three unknowns. Black cat, unknown, and Robin. They don't look like much. They looked like Dan and Ellie could squash them like bugs, easily.

He says as much to Dami, whispering in arabic that they weren't impressive and that he doubted this was really their father, because he was too old and ugly. Dami scowls, whispering back that this was an important moment and that Danny was ruining it. Naturally, Danny snaps back that he didn't even want to come meet this geriatric lame guy who dresses in spandex and his circus, and that he was only here because Mother doubted Dami's strength and skill.

Danny watches the boy's face slowly turn red in amusement. Then, before the bats could blink, there is a blade in Dami's hand and he lunges for his brother. He manages to knick his arm before their mother grabs his ear and twists.

"Ow, ow, ow, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop, that hurts--"

"Boys."

Danny looks up from where he was trying to lick the blood off his arm (it was coming out too fast for this to be effective. It looks like Dami hit an artery) and Dami manages to get out of his mother's hold, and hides behind Danny, like that was going to protect him.

"It's like Jason and Tim all over again..."

"What have I said about fighting?"

"But Mother, he--"

"No."

Danny grins at the sight of Dami's pout.

"You have lost the priviledge to come home, Danyal. Don't think I don't know you started it. You must stay however long Damien stays."

Danny jerks at that. "I don't want to stay! You said just until Dami was settled. He is settled, we met the old bat, we have achieved our goal of meeting the sperm donor. I want to go home now." He left all his stuff at home. Like his favorite blanket, and the doll Dami stole for him on their first mission, and all of his suveniors from Ellie, and the guns that Dan gave him--

"Your stuff will arrive within a week," she says knowingly. "Enjoy your stay with your father," is all she says, kissing their heads, a final goodbye, and left.

Danny stares at her retreating figure.

Damien tries to reach for him, but he is too angry. "I do not want to stay," he states.

"I know."

"I do not care for the bat man."

"I know."

"I want to go home."

"I--"

The batman looks at them, slowly peeling his cowl back from his face. They do look like him. Identical in features, the only difference being the coloring. Danny scowls. "I do not want you," he tells the man. "I want Mother. I do not need you."

"...We should treat your arm."

Danny scowls harder, shoving Damien away. The boy rolls his eyes and threatens to finish the job.

Danny would let him.

He does not want to be here.

And he does not know why his mother had forced him to come.

--

Damien doesn't know that normal siblings don't grow their organs back, or maybe he does, and he isn't thinking. Maybe it is just that his first instinct has always been stab first, taunt later.

Tim Drake-Wayne crumbles into a ball on the floor, clutching his side, where blood was quickly pooling out.

Damien grunted in disgust.

What a waste of a good knife. It was still in the other boy, and he had a feeling he wasn't getting it back.

It is deserved, though. No one got away with talking about his mother. Not even Danny.

"What did you do?!" Bruce Wayne yells, anger rolling off him in waves.

It wasn't his voice, but Danny's that rang out in the suddenly silent bat cave in answer. "Pathetic. If he can't even dodge that he really isn't any match for Dan."

"Are we sure this is our family? Can we get a DNA test? I think Mother brought us to the wrong house."

Which was entirely fair, in Damien's mind. He doesn't know that the rest of the world was different than Nanda Parbat. He doesn't know that they were different, that it isn't normal to try to kill your siblings, and succeed, and then have said sibling come back to life.

It isn't normal to be strong and fast and deadly.

He doesn't know that it was normal to fall to a stab wound.

He doesn't know it is normal to yell when angry.

He doesn't know anything past what he has been taught, and what he's been taught showed him that Timothy Drake is weak.

He is pathetic.

He is not worthy of his position as Robin, nor his place in this house.

He says as such.

The look... his father gives him hurt. It scares. It makes him feel inhuman. Like a monster.

He suddenly understands what Danny had meant.

He does not want them.

He does not want him.

Damien too wants to go back to Mother.

He also wants a DNA test done immediately (because parents aren't supposed to look at you that way: like you are scum; horrible, vile, not worth living. He is scared, and his chest hurts, and there is a lump in his throat, and this place is strange--) His hand finds Danny's again, like it had in the plane, and Danny doesn't swat him away when he grips his hand tight.

He's afraid too.

--

So that's part one!

Honestly this whole prompt idea stems from me wanting damien and danny to just constantly kill one another and have the bats go apeshit lol. Thanks for reading!

--

Translations:

ahki al'asghar - {younger brother, if google is correct?? lmk if it's not tho!}

Yalla - hurry up

khalas - alright

khaal - Uncle

Khala - Aunt

--

Also, the timeline differences with characters in this au is simply because I wanted to :) and DC canon is all over the fucking place lets be real, they reinvent and change shit all the time, I am allowed to tweak Athanasia and Helena and all of the other shit I might tweak.

Ages btw:

Danny and Damien: 10

Dan: 19

Ellie: 17

Athanasia (if she were alive): 15

Tim: 15-16

Jason: 20

Helena: 22

Dick: 25

Cass: 16?

Bruce: 43ish? idk

Talia: 34

Alfred: Immortal but looks like he's 57

Ra's: dying but also like a millenia old mf

--

also [I have no idea how falafel tastes, only that Danny considers falafel and cream cheese to be gross together, and adding tomato to it makes him wonder if he and Damien are related. Google said that its usually like chickpeas, fava beans, herbs, onions, spices, and garlic. I've never had them, and I haven't had them with cream cheese so IDK if they'd be good together, but Danny does not think so lol] :)

[fangweaver2099]

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 3

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @sphynxfoxslut69 @junehasnotbeenfound

PART 1 - PART 2 - CHAPTER 1

It had been almost two months since Web first messaged you. As it turned out, you liked not being the caretaker for once. Considering you grew up the eldest of your six siblings, you were the second mom, the babysitter, the caretaker . 

Being the eldest daughter was a curse. 

You still had embarrassing flashbacks while laying in your bed of your father screaming at you over getting a B in AP physics in your junior year of highschool. 

You liked not being in charge. No responsibility, no obligation, no pressure. Web gave that to you. 

He’d become a friend as much as he was a dominant. You found yourself asking him about mundane things, restaurants he liked or opinions on your going-out clothing. 

He never really broke character, or, well - what you assumed was a character. Suave, domineering with a hint of playful possessiveness... you weren’t entirely sure if you were ready to sacrifice as much clothing as he wanted to rip off you. 

Clothes were expensive and you worked too hard to let him rip apart your nice lingerie.

Still, you weren't entirely opposed to the idea of him tearing apart clothes that he bought you. You thought about suggesting it once, but chickened out as he'd already spent a decent amount on you. Asking for more felt selfish, and you would not reduce yourself to being anyone's sugar baby. 

(Even if the thought did tempt you, sometimes.) 

He had plans for you - or so he said. You got the hint that he enjoyed that you were new and that he was the one ‘teaching you the ropes’,  but he took it seriously. He made you buy an ebook and learn about your nerves and blood flow. 

He didn’t want you to risk nerve damage and went out of his way to ensure you knew to see the signs. 

You had even suggested buying your own rope and testing some self ties, but Web refused. Worried that you’d mess something up and end up losing a limb, he expressly forbade any experimentation that you’d otherwise have tried. 

He hadn’t really revealed much of himself other than he traveled occasionally for work. You had about a dozen different photos in your telegram media chat of him in different hotel bedrooms, but he never told you why he was traveling - just that he was. 

You still hadn’t gotten an answer out of him of what he did for work. He was more active when he was traveling - during the week he practically disappeared but when he was traveling, you’d get a good extra half an hour or so to chat with him. You got used to the routine and you may or may not have adjusted your sleep schedule to spend the most time with him.

Your roommates were beginning to notice, though. It was obvious, with how you started taking much better care of yourself. You dressed up more - did your makeup regularly, you always walked to work… 

You began cooking, for god’s sake, breaking out your grandmother’s precious recipes and putting them to use. 

You tried to not think about the improvement of your mental health hinged on a 36 year old man bossing you around and making you fuck yourself silly on a toy he bought you. 

Aurora had dubbed you ‘Dorm Mom’ despite the fact that the five of you didn’t live in a dorm. Technically your house was a duplex that was converted to one house for college student rentals. 

He hasn’t asked you to use the lovense yet. It was pink and had a weird wider clamp bit you assumed held it in place. You hadn’t tried to put it on, remembering Web’s words.

“No using them without my permission, understood?”  

So, obviously, you didn’t. You didn’t expect yourself to be so rule compliant - you’d convinced yourself you’d be a brat or sassy like a kitten. Now you just fantasized about sitting between Web’s legs as he called you a good pet.

You still hadn’t decided what you were - dog, kitten, bunny? No clue - so he just started calling you pet. It was kind of hard to roleplay being nonverbal online. You had sent him a few videos now - happy to take it nice and slow. 

He made it clear he was comfortable with that. He was always direct and clear with you. You found yourself adoring his communication skills and learning a thing or two. It was refreshing compared to your singular previous relationship - he… he was sure a teenager.

Clear commands were comforting in an odd way, even if said commands were some of the filthiest things you've ever had sent to you. The commands he gave were easy to understand and impossible to fuck up without distinctly trying. 

 He made you nervous, but that was from anticipation, not from anxiety of making yourself look like a total idiot.  

He'd scold you and punish you if you'd call yourself that anyways, and your hand still hurt from the first round of lines he'd made you write in a notebook he also made you go out and get. Punishments long distance were difficult, but that was a surefire way you wouldn't forget his instructions and rules anytime soon.

It was a Thursday night - Web had told you he’d be around at 9pm, so you’d been twiddling your thumbs agonizing over the wait as you stared at the clock. There were a hundred things you could be doing to pass the time, but none of them seemed particularly fun against the rising concoction of excitement and dread churning in your belly. Instead, you figured you’d clean your room - the stage in which you’d male your grand debut. 

It was hardly the first time he had seen you, of course, but it would be the first time he’d see you live. You remembered how the first video you sent accidentally included the messy pile of clothes in the corner of your bedroom that you had forgotten about for an embarrassingly long time. He must have thought you a slob. You nearly cried a day after sending it when you scrolled through your conversation and saw it in the thumbnail. 

Not again. No, your room would be fucking spotless , if you had anything to say about it. 

First thing first, the hamper. Heaving the pile into your lattice-work bin, you trucked it over to the laundry room, the half-faded writing on its handle reading your name to make sure no one accidentally swapped clothes.

Next thing was vacuuming, and not just turning on the communal roomba and letting it wander for a few minutes in your room like the last time you ‘cleaned’. Your eyes lingered on the pink disc affectionately dubbed ‘Kirby’ by the household. Not this time, old friend.

You were a mostly clean person. Mostly. Maybe it was time to get back on your anti-depressants, you mused, picking up another glass to bring to the kitchen. 

After a half hour you felt pretty satisfied, your room looking better than it had in… Probably since a week after you moved in. Maybe you were messy?

The thought was interrupted by the click of a door closing in the living room. You winced. No, this could not be happening. They were - were supposed to be out tonight! Didn’t they all have a show to be at?

You peeked your head out your door to spy who had come in, feeling a tad like a ninja without the skills or cool costume or, really, anything that would make you a ninja. 

It was Aurora - huffing as she made her way inside. As always, the strawberry blonde had that characteristic coloring, all colorful care-bear themed clothing and highwaisted jeans, a literal rainbow shaped into a person and set loose to run wild. She was scowling, but that quickly evaporated when her brown eyes met yours. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight. The drag show ended early because one of the Queens made one too many jokes about cops and I guess some guy had a brother that was one.” She rolled her eyes, “‘Throwing bricks is assault’, he said. ‘Yeah that’s the point’, the Queen replied. You know how it is.”

“The others are bar hopping, but I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning so I have to turn in soon. Don’t mind me if you uh.. Had something special planned with all of us out, wink wink,” she said while literally winking. You wished you exploded on the spot.

“S-Something special? No-no, why would you think that?” you stammered, stepping out from your bedroom, hands growing clammy and wet.

“Because it's not often you have the apartment to yourself. You don’t maybe.. Have a boyfriend coming over or something?” She leaned forward, lips curling into a grin as she leaned closer. 

“ NO, ” you replied firmly, definitely too firm. It wasn’t a lie, he wasn’t exactly a boyfriend and he wasn’t coming over either. 

You were just going to get naked in front of him on camera and masturbate. 

Now you just had to do that with your roommate a few doors down. 

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

(everything was definitely not fine, and you could feel yourself getting paler, a bit lightheaded.)

“Suuuuure you don’t. If I hear knocking on the door - or in your room - I’ll just turn up my laptop while I watch netflix.” She hummed to herself, waltzing over to the fridge to grab a snack before she disappeared into her equally brightly colored bedroom.

This… complicated things, but of all the people to be home while this happened, you supposed Aurora was the least bad. She was a heavy sleeper and she wore earbuds when she watched stuff in her room, so it was possible that she wouldn’t notice at all. 

Your eyes darted to the clock as she left, checking the time. It was past time. You had been so busy worrying that you -

Shit. 

Rushing back to your bedroom, you snagged a towel on the way there, spreading it on the floor as you moved in. There was a risk of you needing it later, and you really, really wanted to be prepared. 

Taking a deep breath, you settled, laptop in hand, sitting cross legged on the towel. You opened your laptop, setting it down in front of you and taking a big, deep breath, losing any of the composure you’d gained all at once as you saw the notification waiting.

 9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Are you free, pet?”  

“ I am. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

 9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been thinking about the video you sent me a few days ago.”  

“ Oh? I just did what you asked, Sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

 9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That you did, and you looked so nice squirming with those clamps on. You have very beautiful breasts, Fawn. Are you enjoying all the toys I provided you? Which is your favorite?”  

“ Thank you. I am, but I don’t think I have a favorite yet. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

 9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How are you adjusting to the dildo? Can you take it completely to the flare yet?”  

“ Same as last photo I shared, so not quite. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “As much as I’d like to hilt myself in you when we meet, I understand that’s not always realistic. Don’t feel too bad if you reach your limit. If you do, however, I’ll need to get you something bigger to practice on.”  

“ I’m happy to keep trying with encouragement. :p ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Aside from praise, is there something I can offer as a reward?”  

“ Pics, maybe. I do quite like the praise. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Alright, how about this: You get a picture for every inch you can manage starting at four. That’s twp potential pictures total if you reach all six.”  

“ I like that. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How would you like to show me your progress live?”  

“ I can try another video, I wish we could just facetime or something. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight, actually.”  

“ Oh? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Zoom. I will be muted and you still won’t see my face.”  

“ Can I ask why? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Why do you wear your mask?”  

“ Because I’m a college aged woman posting nudes on the internet. Point taken, I guess. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:21 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We all have our reasons. Would you like to or not?”  

“ Yes, sir. ” - Fawnteeth -  9:21 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Always so polite.”  

“ I try. ” - Fawnteeth -  9:21 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It saves me some time disciplining it into you.”  

“ We’ll see, I like the idea of being a brat, remember? Just hard to do across the web. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll try not to scare you too much the first time I show you the crop then.”  

“ So scary :p. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Let’s see what you think when you’re crying and you can’t sit for the next three days.”  

“ We’ll just have to see. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

 9:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Get your lube, lovense and dildo. Find somewhere comfortable where you won’t be interrupted. Join when you’re ready: [Zoom code]”  

“ Okay, can you see me?. ” - Fawnteeth -  9:30 PM

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “There’s my pet. Yes, I see you beautiful.”

Web’s video flashed on, bare enough to give you a generous view of his muscular frame, sculpted torso painting him like some god in human form. A pair of gray boxer-briefs were all that he wore on his bottom half, the bulge of his flaccid penis intimidatingly large. The man was a shower, not a grower. Even soft as it was now, it strained against the fabric and ran down his leg, head nearly threatening to peek out from the leg-holes. 

It was unfair how hot he was.

As always, the frame cut off before you could see his chin. Just what could a man like this have to hide, truly? So mysterious.

You found yourself staring for a moment, hunched over in your baggy t-shirt and underwear. All the confidence evaporated from your body - you didn’t realize he would have his feed on. 

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, struggling with the camera of your laptop. 

“Can you hear me?” you asked. 

The man leaned forward, the barest hint of his chin coming into frame only to be obscured by a simple medical mask. His long fingers typed something out and a moment later his message pinged into existence.

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can.”  

Your eyes rested firmly on the mask for a moment, your brow raised. 

“Same idea, but mine is easier to breathe in.” You pointed at your own mask, black cloth and far more comfortable. 

It was technically made to be worn over a medical mask, after all. You were trying so hard to play it cool, as if you couldn’t feel sweat sticking your hair to the back of your neck. You sit up and back far enough you’re in view of the camera but you can still see his text.  

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Here I thought you might ask me where I got the idea from. I hope you don’t have a copyright.”  

You grinned under your mask, eyes scrunching. “I don’t. I-I’m glad you got the idea from me.” Flinching at the stutter, you glanced around the room, one of your hands brushing over your mask and down your neck awkwardly. 

9:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Nervous, Fawn? It’s normal to be. This is your first time doing something like this, isn’t it?”  

Sat there, you stalled, before nodding as physically hard as you could - you didn’t want to stutter again. Your hands eventually grabbed at the edge of your shirt and twisted it together, revealing a hint of your stomach.

9:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We can go slow, pet. Remember our safety tools. Shall we test them?”  

“I- yeah. Sorry. I want to. Just… It feels more real, ” you admitted.  

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “This will make it easier when I meet you in person. A stepping stone. I want you to feel comfortable. Safe.”  

You know he couldn’t see you blush, but you sure felt your face warm, your eyes drifting over his hands as they disappeared to type. 

“I know. I trust you,” you finally spoke, voice a bit more sure. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color check. How are you feeling?”  

“Green,” you answered, hands moving to finally wrench your top over your body, tossing it… somewhere.

Idly, your gaze brushed over your hips, fingers touching the half-faded marks that you had written on yourself the week before at Web’s instruction. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Still not fully faded, I see. Good thing it was a compliment and not something else.”  

“What would something else be?” you asked, again cringing at your stumbling of words.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Some pets prefer degradation. ‘Whore’, ‘Slut’, ‘Stupid Bitch’. You seem like the type that works on praise.”  

Your brows furrowed, “What do you prefer?” 

Belatedly, you realized that it was probably a terrible idea to ask. You knew you’d try desperately to enjoy whatever he liked. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Depends on my mood, and how bratty they’ve been. You’re a good girl, aren’t you Fawn? Stay like that and we’ll keep doing praise.”

Slowly, Web reached down to his thigh, thick-veined hand sliding across the bulge of his member which had slowly begun to swell and harden.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve barely done anything and you’ve already started to get me hard. Your voice is beautiful, Fawn.”

You swore you felt your heart skip in your chest, shifting on your knees almost uncomfortably. You felt the urge to sit up straighter - it was hard to tell if it was to hide the rolls on your stomach or because you felt lifted by his compliment. 

He was almost inhumanly attractive. You swore a man like him couldn’t be real, but here he was. 

“I.. Uhm…,” you stumbled over your words, glancing at the toy laid out beside your hip. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How about you start taking off the rest of your clothes for me, Fawn? Show me your beautiful body.”

Web’s hand shifted, fingers hooking the edge of his underwear and dragging it down enough that you could begin to see the neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair leading to his manhood. It lingered there, just an inch away from revealing the base of his cock to you. 

In all honesty, how wet you already were was more than enough humiliation alone for you to squirm - he didn’t need to contribute. You reached your arms back, struggling for a moment to unclasp your bra. It was on instinct as you tossed it down and wrapped one hand over your breasts. 

You tried to not notice him typing one-handed, knowing it would be like that for the rest of the night. 

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “There they are, those pretty breasts of yours. Don’t hide them from me, pet.”

“I’m trying ,” you admitted, squirming in your kneeling position. You were hunching forward ever so slightly, eyes waiting for his next message.

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color?”

“Green,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to drop your arm and sink your fingers into your thigh. 

Part of you was thankful the AC in your room barely worked so it wasn’t freezing to be naked right now. 

Taking the initiative for the first time in weeks, you shifted, sitting back on your haunches to display the wet spot quickly spreading across the seat of your panties. 

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So wet for me already, eager little thing. Take those off too; Show me your pussy, Fawn.”

You tried… so hard to do it quickly - sexy, y’ know? Smooth. Hooking your thumbs under the waistband and tugging, just like he had, but…

Instead of a smooth descent, your underwear caught at your knees, and you froze, shifting back on your hips to try to dislodge them, but that only had you falling quickly off balance. It took both arms to catch yourself and keep you from toppling over, panties still tangled at your knees, and you whimpered, trying desperately not to look at your screen while you smoothly (read: jerkily) kicked your underwear off.

Now nude, you had to take a moment to soothe your panic. You were convinced that, to some extent, he was charmed by your awkwardness - he'd all but told you as much a few times, but it didn't stop your cheeks from burning and your mind from considering hanging up, giving up, and hiding away from the rest of the world for the next year or so.

For a moment you lingered half-laid before rolling back onto your knees, now completely nude. Eager to pretend that nothing happened, you raked your hair from your face, risking a quick glance to the screen, and - 

You swore you could see his chest rise like he was chuckling at you. It was almost enough to make you wish he could see you pout. 

Crossing your arms, you frowned, all too cognizant of how the motion propped up your breasts for him while he typed. 

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Take those tits in your hands now, squeeze them. Pinch your nipples for me. Do what you would want me to do to them. Color.”

“G-green,” you managed to get out, wiping your sweaty palms over your torso.  Taking a deep breath, you reread the order, before letting your eyes drift back up to his video. Watching the broad, built man palm his crotch, squeezing his massive cock through his pants,you couldn’t help but remember that the black dildo was two inches shorter and more than a bit thinner. 

He was massive.

Slowly, your hands uncrossed and cupped your breasts. Hesitantly, you tweaked at one of your nipples, cautious and careful. You had always been sensitive, it was hard to even sleep without a bra much less masturbate. Now Web was telling you to… oh dear. Your eyes pinched close, thumb and pointer coming together to squeeze the sensitive bundle of nerves between them. 

You massaged it gently as you felt electricity run up your spine, forcing a little gasp from your throat. You straightened your back, tensing and releasing the nipple with a whimper. Your fingers lingered again, knowing every touch would jolt through you like lightning.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You seem hesitant. Color.”

Taking in a sharp breath, you swallowed, glancing between the chat and the camera. It took effort to maintain ‘eye contact’, but you forced yourself to do it, to open your mouth and answer him. 

 “G-green.” 

A pause, and then-

“‘M sensitive ,” you managed to mumble, twisting your head away from the camera.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So it seems. Do you have the clamps I bought you nearby? Maybe it will be easier hands-free.”

You glanced back, leaning forward to read his words. On instinct - you went to type your reply, only stopping yourself at the last second

“I- yeah. I think so,” you shift on your knees and grab one of the ‘secret’ boxes from under your bed where the dildo and lube was stored. Your hips were the only thing in view to Web. 

When she turned around with the clamps in hand a new message awaited her.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So pretty. Turn around for me first, let me see your ass. Spread your cheeks and show me your pussy.”

Your cheeks burned and you were thankful for your mask, but you doubted he needed to see your blush to know how flustered you were.

“I-O-Okay,” you stammered, stumbling over your words, warring between your nervousness and excitement, hands pressing down on your floor to help you turn. Before long your rear was facing the camera, cunt on full display. As you buried your face in a pillow, your arms reached back to grab your own butt. You took a deep breath and pulled your cheeks apart, giving a teasing wiggle as your back arched for him. 

You sat there, face pressed into your pillow for maybe a minute before finally turning around, checking his response. The sight of his cock on full display greeted you, properly hard with a hand stroking it lazily as pre-cum beaded at his tip. It was one thing to see it in a picture, but on video… Your hands went up to your face, covering your masked cheeks out of pure instinct. 

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Such a nice, wet pussy. Are you eager for me to fill that hole with my cum, pet? Show me where you want my cock.”

You swallowed again, resisting the urge to roll over and squeal like you did sometimes when you two were sexting. You were not sexting - well. 

Kinda. 

Cybering? Yeah. You were cybering. 

You moved your hands down to your pubic mound, fingers lingering in your curls before sinking your fingers into the flesh, pulling upwards to expose a hint of your labia.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s it, good girl. My lovely Fawn, so obedient.”

“Thank you, sir,” you gasped out, forcing a deep breath and settling your voice. “I-I want to be a good girl.” You rolled your hips back, showing off more of your groin. You weren’t exactly soaked - but you were wet. It was getting worse as you watched him stroke himself. You wondered what it would feel like under your touch.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now put the clamps on, Fawn.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded grabbing at the clamps you had left sitting on the floor beside you. The black tweezer tips were soft to the touch, colder metal giving way to a small adjustable crank that could tighten them into place. The two clamps were held together by a string of metal link, quietly twinkling as you brought them up to yourself. .

Your nipples were already hard, small buds poking out from your breasts like they were begging to be pinched and pulled. It would be so much easier if he was here himself, you thought. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about spasming each time you brushed against them. He could make you do whatever he wanted. His hands looked strong, those arms clearly able to pin you. 

You felt saliva pool in your mouth, and you swallowed. Hard. 

You winced as the first clamp tightened onto your nipple, the sensitive flesh burning with pain as you adjusted the tightness. Too tight - you let a sigh of release loose as the pain relieved itself, more of a comfortable ache than an outright pain. You liked this sort of discomfort. 

The next one quickly followed, you biting your lip as you pressed your breasts together with the sides of your arms to show the clamps off to Web.

“How’s this, Sir?”

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good, Fawn. Now pull on that chain for me.”

You clenched your teeth, eyes shutting for a moment before nodding. Mean. He was mean . 

You really shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did. 

A hand rose, sheepishly curling a finger over the chain and pulling ever so slightly. It was enough, forcing you to gasp aloud.

“Ah! Fuck .” You couldn’t help the curse, tears beading at the edges of your eyes from the sheer sensitivity.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girls don’t curse. Do I need to punish you for that foul mouth? How about this: Again. Harder this time.”

You nodded again, pulling harder and locking your hips into place to help stifle the powerful jolt of pleasure through your spine. It still had you nearly jump, butt clenching and shoulders shuddering.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Again. Color.”

All the while, his other hand had been stroking his intimidating length, swollen veins running along his tan shaft while his dark balls hung beneath, drawing tight and high. You could almost imagine how close he was to his peak, just from watching you. 

“Green. Green,” you gasped, releasing the chain as your body shivered. 

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Sweet little Fawn. How about you start using some of that lube now, get yourself ready for your dildo? You want to show me how you’d take my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

For a moment, you sat there, glancing over at the small lube bottle and the black toy. Slowly, resisting the urge to squeeze the dildo like a stressball, you picked the thing up, staring at it. 

He was seriously bigger than this? 

Instead, you squeezed out a palm-full of lube and applied it generously to the dildo, stroking over the toy until it was coated in a layer of slickness. Next was yourself, though you gave yourself a minute to breathe before inhaling a lung-full of air and nodding. The somewhat cold liquid alerted your senses as you lathered it across your opening and slipped your fingers inside yourself.

 You were already wet, but lube could hardly hurt . It’s not like you were used to taking insertions like this, only ever really using your fingers before now - and even then, that was sparing .

You had ridden the dildo a few times by now - but only ever in short, contained clips for Web, and never in front of anybody like you now were. 

9:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s a good pet, prepare that pretty pussy for me. Let’s see how deep you can take it.”

Your hand shook a little as it rested on your lips, dildo in hand to tease along your seam, the slightly curved edge giving it an ever-slightly realistic shape. Teasing yourself like this was agony, you would have far preferred to lay back and let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you were eager to please.

“Oooookay. Just.. might take a minute..,” you managed as your hand lingered, nervousness freezing your muscles in place. 

You could take a few inches without much issue, you knew that mechanically. Objectively. Experimentations had proven that you could get pretty far down, if you were relaxed and tried hard enough. 

You could even film it for him, but to do it while he was watching, stroking his cock openly in front of you? Your eyes shifted back to the screen, the man’s hand tightening around the shaft of his lengthy member. He had said before he was eight inches. This dildo was six, and that was already scary. 

You swallowed hard, watching him pump out a few strokes to you, shifting your hand placement so that he would have a better view of your pussy. Slowly but surely, the lube did its work and before you even meant for it to properly slide inside there it was, an inch deep.

Your butt clenched, thighs quivering while the arm supporting your weight behind you shook faintly, an aching soreness beginning to spread.

“I want you, Sir,” you admitted, biting your lip as you half teased him, half tortured yourself. It was the most you could manage, and despite the burning at your cheeks you were proud. You could see by the way his cock twitched in his hand he was too, his massaging strokes growing more rapid.

9:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s right, Fawn. Put it inside. Show me how you want me to fuck you, pet.”

You inched yourself down, feeling the dull ache intermixed with pleasure as the toy pressed into your pussy. You let out a ragged gasp, pausing to lift your hips back up, slowly settling back down. You settle into a shallow rhythm, desperately trying to not play the pathetic, anxiety ridden virgin you really were. 

Right now, you were Fawn.

You stuttered for a moment in anxiety, rolling your arms to settle your hands back behind you as your legs shivered in discomfort. After a moment, you tried to force most of the dildo into you, forcing a gasp to leave your lips as the aching pressure only got worse. 

You could barely take 3/4ths of this damn thing - you sure as hell couldn’t think about trying to take Web right now. Thankfully, your furrowed brows were mostly out of view. 

Web was muted, but you swear you could hear the clap of the edge of his hand against his balls, each pump up and down his cock faster than the last. You took it as encouragement, a small smile forming on your lips despite the pain inside you. You were never too worried about pain, it so often came hand in hand with pleasure to you. 

Rolling your hips, you half-rode, half-ground against the dildo as you lifted your butt higher, desperately searching for that special nook that promised your peak. 

Eventually, a little surprisingly, you did. Your slender fingers and sensitive body could only do so much to yourself, but this was perhaps as close as you had ever gotten to a proper orgasm. You leaned into it, smile widening as you took control of your own pleasure. Up and down you bounced against the dildo, each drop sending it deep inside you. Surely you could reach a new record tonight and earn those rewards he promised, you mused to yourself. Or you would later, since your brain was quickly becoming putty in the present.

As nice as this was, it wasn’t sustainable, not forever. Your legs were quickly getting tired, aching muscles ready to give out. You had to readjust, your torso leaning forward so that you could sit on your knees and ride it that way, hands and knees holding you up.

As your weight shifted, you underestimated just how much pain your thigh would spike with. The adjustment made it kick out, foot striking the bottle of lube and knocking it into your bed frame with a loud bang. You winced, mortified, head whipping around to look at what had happened. Your second mistake. The quick motion had you collapsing on your ass, falling straight on your tailbone and sending a jolt of pain up your spine. You cursed. 

Loudly.

Your cheeks burned . You half wanted to dive for the computer and shut it, but his message popped into view just in time.

9:38 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You okay, Fawn?”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you muttered, not even thinking about it as you lurched and grabbed your aching tailbone. Your whole body hurt now and you were pretty fucking positive Aurora would have heard that. Desperately, you sat up on your knees, looking over the laptop at your barricaded bedroom door. 

“I-I fuck. Fuck, I’m dumb. Should’ve expected, honestly,” you were just rambling to yourself at this point as you went to retrieve the slightly spilled bottle of lube, clipping the cap closed and sitting back on your knees. Eyeing the computer, you frowned, seeing that Web had paused and was leaned forward, both hands on the laptop. You glanced down at his text.

9:38 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Stop. Breathe. Don’t you dare call yourself that again, understood?”

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to say. You took a deep breath, unsure what to do at this point. Your hands basically wandered around the floor as you sat back down on your knees. Anxiety was completely eating you up at this point.

“I always fuck everything up,” you mumbled again, moving to pick up the black dildo, assuming that well - you two were done. You ruined the mood and you hated yourself for it. 

9:39 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You don’t. You’re beautiful and - fuck - I nearly came. Good girl, it usually takes me a while. Take a moment. Deep breaths.”

He had obviously stopped stroking himself at that point, but his head was slick with pre-cum, his cock twitching with sensitivity as it stood hard as a rock despite the miscalculation. You could see just a hint of it as he shifted in his seat. You couldn’t tell if it was a bed, couch or something else. 

You took a deep breath again, wiping your teary eyes. “That’s good,” you sighed. You rubbed over your arm, fingers drawing over the massive tattoo on your upper arm. The fawn’s teary eyes sure fit how you felt right now.

9:39 PM  - WebRigger2099 - “Set the dildo aside, get out the lovense.”

You remembered setting up the controls when you first got it with him, but you had been too shy to bring up trying it just yet. To do so live would be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. A simple slide of his finger on the app and the toy would start buzzing harder. 

Doing as you were told, you placed the dildo on a towel you had set on the ground nearby quickly followed by your bottle of lube. Producing the lovense, you looked it over, frowning. The big device was like a big U shaped hook, the big bulbous end seemingly meant for insertion. The site called it an egg vibrator. With the sheer amount of lube still coating you, you skipped pumping out another squirt and instead pressed the fat end against your entrance, slipping cozily inside with ease now that you had been stretched open. 

The device went deeper than you were expecting, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. What did alarm you is where the smaller hook had ended up resting, the thinner tip nestled right up against your clit. 

You got the feeling it wasn’t just for keeping it in place anymore. You swallowed hard, looking back to the camera and clearing your throat.

“I’m-I’m ready, Sir,” you said sheepishly.

9:41 PM  - WebRigger2099 - “We’ll start on a low setting. Let you get used to it.”

Nodding to show you saw the message, you hummed, eyes watching him produce his cellphone - a sleek black android without a single decoration, even the case plain and boring. You couldn’t help the snicker that almost left your lips - of course he would have an android. 

His thumb slipped across the screen and without delay you felt a vibration against your walls. 

Subconsciously, you clenched, grimacing at the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn’t bad , just strange, awkward. 

 9:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color.”

You shifted on your knees, ignoring the discomfort still in your tailbone and hip. 

“G… Green,” your voice was softer now, more nervous. Every so often, you risked a glance at the door, but nobody showed, blessedly. Maybe everyone was watching a movie together or something. 

 9:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Eyes on me. Focus, fawn.”

You saw Web raise the settings a tad without warning, a small punishment for your distracted glances. You clenched around the toy, sitting back and glancing at his feed.

His hand had returned to his cock, slow kneading strokes trailing the length of his manhood up and down while his other hand held the phone. As if simulating his own strokes, the thumb at his phone drew up and down, sending waves of vibration inside you. It had you bite down on your lip, leaning forward and placing a hand on the floor. 

Clicking a button on his phone, the vibrator returned to a constant, dull stimulation before he went to type out another message, his cock bobbing as he released it.

 9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Should I turn it up higher, pet? Color.”

“Green, please,” you gasp out, placing your other hand down on the floor to steady yourself. 

He turned the settings up bit by bit, sliding his finger slowly up the phone. The buzzing within you grew intense, almost unbearable, but it was reaching a spot you had finally discovered today after so many sessions of sheepish masturbation attempts and picture taking. You felt a deep ache within you waiting to finally be released, pent up frustration building like steam in a kettle.

 9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “More?”

“Please - fuck , please,” you begged, your fingers digging into the carpet beneath you, desperate for something to cling to.

 9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Language.” 

He scolded you, his message was dripping in the warnings of swiftly approaching punishment. Would he push the settings to max, watch you squirm uncontrollably as the vibrator made you buck?

No. Everything stopped, that blissful feeling inside you halted all at once. He had turned it off. You could scream, you wanted to snap at him for his cruelty. You were getting so close and he - he robbed you of your peak. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not particularly meaning it. It wasn’t hard to tell there was no regret in your tone, not with how petulant you sounded. 

 9:45 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll make you sorry. Turn around and spank yourself. Hard. You’ve said that word six times since we’ve been on video, so you’ll give yourself six spanks.”

You whimpered audibly at his command, begrudgingly turning around to expose your oozing cunt to him.

“ Is… Isn’t edging me enough ?” you complained like you could hear him reply.

Of course you were only speaking to the air. You had already turned around, obedient as ever to Web. You did things without fully thinking them through often times, his daily commands overriding any natural instinct or desires that usually distracted you one way or another. He kept you responsible and healthy. He was good at this. 

Your thighs were slick with arousal by now, a desperate need for his cock suffusing every thought in your brain - what thoughts were left, anyway. Your torso collapsed forward, a forearm being used as a pillow against your face while your other arm reached over to squeeze your own rear tentatively. 

You lifted your hand high, arm trembling as you tried to aim for your own cheeks without sight. This wasn’t the most humiliating thing he had asked you to do, this should have been easy… As long as no one interrupted and saw you spanking yourself in front of a computer screen, all would be fine. 

That was not a conversation you wanted to have with any of your five roommates, especially Taylor. 

She was just - judgmental sometimes. Not that she didn’t engage in stuff like this herself in person, probably. God knew she brought home enough girls to your house to convince you that she dabbled in some questionable stuff. She just… Well, you didn’t need your roommates to know what you were doing right now.

Your arm stiffened before coming down, a light clap sounding in the air. You winced in pain, the aim clearly off as you smacked against hard bone instead of soft flesh. You adjusted your aim, wrist trembling, and crack ! Another down, aim better this time. It had you hissing from the sting, surprising yourself at your own strength - or maybe your sensitivity. 

You opted to be a tad gentler for the rest, firm enough to leave a red blush but not so hard as to sound like thunder and disturb anyone. You had to be at least a little careful with the noise. You were thankful your bedroom was so far away from everyone else’s.

When you turned back around, Web’s latest message was waiting for you.

9:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re lucky you won’t have to be the one spanking you when I meet you in person. Your inexperience is showing, Fawn. Still, you did well for a beginner. Good girl.”

Web had stopped stroking himself by now, hard cock still in clear view but untouched. Almost as soon as you finished reading his message the buzz began again. It took you a fraction of a second to realize it was on max settings.

You nearly buckled then and there, your knees turning to jelly.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from cursing again. The last thing you needed was another punishment. Instead, you simply collapsed, face in view of the camera and eyes shut tight as your hands went to your sex to help rub out the swiftly approaching orgasm.

Your own touch was nervous, as if you had never masturbated before in your life. This simple little toy was a godsend, or maybe it was Web’s skilled manipulation of both the toy and you, you weren’t sure. Whatever the case, your head touched the clouds as you climbed your peak for the first time.

You were too dazed to speak when it was over, the contractions inside you clenching around the toy as your hips weakly spasmed. Tears from your hard orgasm blurred your vision, breath shot as you took in inhales with stuttering gasps.

 9:49 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good pet. So obedient. You did very well today. How did you enjoy my gifts?”

“Yes,” you croaked out, voice tired and worn, rolling your head to the side as you watched his messages. 

 9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve earned yourself some rest, Fawn. I won’t keep you. Message me when you wake up tomorrow, understood? I have much to think about. I’ll have a treat for you to wake up to.”

You took a moment to stabilize yourself, pulling the toy from your vagina with a gasp and just letting it drop to the floor. You’d clean it in the dead of night… later. Slowly you lifted yourself up onto your arms and nodded. 

“O…okay. Uhm.. goodnight,” you said, eyes still on his torso, seeing that he was breathing hard. 

 9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Goodnight, Fawn. You did very good. I’m proud of you.”

His screen clicked to black an instant later. 

 9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - Has gone offline.

So, you tossed the wet toys and lube in the small plastic tote to take out after everyone went to bed, wiped yourself off with baby wipes and redressed. You ended up checking on your roommates and found them all home from the bar, somehow and extremely invested in another Chris Chan documentary on youtube, using the projector as a TV hooked up to Taylor’s laptop. 

So, thankfully nobody noticed. You got water, you cleaned your toys and hid them back under your tiny bed. 

The first thing you did the next morning was check your messages, a hand covering your face as you smiled and blushed at the image sent. 

Web’s torso was on full display, cock angled up so she could see its undercarriage. Along his stomach and past his belly button was a pool of sticky white, stray spurts seemingly shot further up his torso before the main gush was emptied out. The text with it was simple:

 7:04 AM - WebRigger2099 - You gave me a lot to think about. 

 7:04 AM - WebRigger2099 - Message me when you wake up and we’ll discuss how everything went.

You could squeal in joy. You did that to him. You did that despite falling on your ass and nearly bruising your hip like an idiot. 

You were not in love - who could fall in love with a stranger on the internet so quickly? - but damn did it help you feel good about yourself. 

[sunflw3r]

sungchan as your bf / headcanons

idol!sungchan x non!idol male reader reader prns: he/him word count: 2k words fluff

sungchan as your boyfriend

content warnings: mentions of shirtless sungchan, i think that’s it but lmk</3

unedited</3

(masterlist)

a/n: so i just came back to tumblr after like a month and im getting back into writing!! i recently read the first part of @luvkyu ‘s sungchan oneshot and i fear my sungchan obsession is coming back so HERE have a fun gift

ps: in the little scenarios it fluctuates between a weird 2nd person + 3rd person limited so i hope that’s not confusing</3

✦he’s sooooo soft

✦he puts on a really tough act but whenever you come in the room…

✦there are stars in his eyes

✦he LOVES showing you affection in public

✦is not at all afraid to show his soft side when you’re around

“y/n!!” sungchan happily squealed, the sight of you making his heart run at 100 miles per hour. “hi chan.” y/n smiled softly, sungchan wrapping his arms around y/n’s shoulders, a bright and lovesick smile on his face.

“have i told you today how much i love you?” sungchan asked, y/n pondering about the inquiry. “i don’t think so.” he replied, a tiny grin appearing on his lips as sungchan left a small kiss on y/n’s nose. “i love you so much baby.” he whispered, y/n pulling his closer. “i love you too chan.”

“bleh.” seunghan said, passing the couple who were currently embracing, sungchan unraveling one of his arms from y/n’s to flip off the younger. he returned to y/n, soft laughter coming from the two’s mouths as seunghan grumbled while walking through the living room of the dorm.

✦loves kissing you

✦like if his lips are free they’re going to be somewhere on you, whether it’s your cheek or your neck

✦his favorite place to kiss though is the part right behind your ears

✦it feels super intimate for him

✦he can latch onto your body and bury his face in the crook of your neck and everything is okay

✦whenever he’s having a bad day, all of his worries fall away whenever he’s in your arms

“are you alright bubs?” y/n asked softly, sungchan wrapping his arms around m/n’s neck, placing his lips gently behind y/n’s left ear. sungchan felt y/n’s shoulder’s relax under his hands, detaching his soft lips from the delicate skin.

“better.” he whispered in reply, y/n smiling happily at the person in his arms. taking sungchan’s hands in his, y/n pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin, sungchan’s breath slowing into a rhythmic pattern of comfort. “i’ll run you a bath and then you can tell me about your day?” y/n asked, sungchan nodding as a sigh escaped his mouth. “yes please.”

y/n’s gentle laughter filled the room as he pressed a light kiss to sungchan’s forehead, who moved his head so y/n’s lips trailed down his nose to meet his own. soft noises of sungchan’s happiness vibrated from his vocal chords and filled the room as their lips separated and touched again. y/n ruffled his hair, walking away backwards, his eyes locked with sungchan’s. “your bath wil be ready in a few minutes love.”

sungchan smiled, following after y/n with a smile on his face, his lips warm and heart fluttering with satisfaction as he saw your figure disappear into your bathroom.

✦LOVES talking about his hobbies and job with you

✦he set a new personal record while doing his work out? expect to see a very happy (and sweaty) sungchan bursting through the door of your apartment speaking a mile a minute about the accomplishment while you simultaneously try your hardest to get him to go shower

✦did he finally ace a part of the choreography for riize’s new comeback? be prepared to see a very excited (but extremely sore and tired) sungchan coming home with a bright smile on his face, proceeding to spend the next 5 hours of your evening together showing you the now cleaned two 8-counts

✦after he would proceed to fall asleep, his face pressed against the couch cushions while you just stand their like 🧍

“babe! guess what i just did!” sungchan exclaimed, bursting through the front door of y/n’s apartment, a bright smile on his face, contrasting the sweat trickling down his forehead. “what did you do?” y/n smiled, looking up from his book to lock eyes with his boyfriend.

“i just finished cleaning that really stupid part in talk saxy! i’m free now!” he cheered, y/n standing up from the couch to envelop his boyfriend in a hug, attempting to avoid the sweat clinging to his body. “congrats bubs! i’m so happy for you.” he replied, sungchan’s triceps resting under his palms. “can i show you?” sungchan asked, y/n nodding happily. sungchan sprinted to move the table from the center of the living room, y/n sitting back down in his seat on the couch.

safe to say he spent the rest of the night showing you the same moves, only falling asleep curled up on the couch once y/n left to get a glass of water.

“let’s go to bed channie, you’re really tired.” y/n whispered, putting his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “no, i gotta show you it one more time! i reallyyyyyy got it.” he slurred, his head falling into y/n’s chest, soft breaths coming from his mouth.

“silly,” y/n muttered softly, struggling to get sungchan’s long limbs contained in his arms to take him to his bedroom, a bright, sleepy smile on sungchan’s face as y/n held him. “mmh, i love you.” sungchan mumbled, y/n pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “i love you too. but can you wake up enough so you can walk to the bedroom because i will die trying to carry you.”

sungchan chuckled softly, his half asleep voice music to y/n’s ears. “okay.” he groaned, pulling himself up before falling in y/n’s arms, feet shuffling along the floor with his partner until they made it to the bedroom, moving his hands along to the rhythm of talk saxy. “boom, did it again. babe, you’re so lucky to have such a talented boyfriend.”

y/n smiled, patting sungchan’s half asleep cheek as he laid the tall man across the comforter. “so lucky my love. now sleep.” “mmh, i love you.” sungchan replied, falling into slumber as y/n smiled at his hyper boyfriend.

✦he’s very open with his group about you!

✦like someone will say something and sungchan will suddenly just say “oh wait y/n did this cute thing” or “that reminds me, me and y/n-“ and the rest of riize just stare at him

✦on the other hand, you’re very open about your relationship with sungchan to your friends

✦it was one of sungchan’s priorities when you started dating that if you wanted to be able to gush about him you could<3 it means the most to him that you can express your happiness even if he is a public figure

✦he never wants you to feel like his little secret! you mean the world to him and while he might not be telling the fans for your safety (the world is still too homophobic), he still makes sure you’re satisfied and heard in your relationship and he isn’t ignoring how you feel

✦if the fans ever did find out, whether it was by accident or on purpose, sungchan’s main priority would be you

✦fans start following you? he tells them off and stays by your side until they stop

✦if you ever feel upset about what they say, sungchan will take the time to comfort you, helping you in self care for the next few days until the comments stopped living in your mind

the group was taking a break after the hours of practice, shotaro talking about the hellish time he had trying to buy grocerys that week. sungchan drank happily from his boba (courtesy of y/n) before a thought returned to his mind about his recent date with his boyfriend.

“oh my god! when me and y/n went to the grocery store this week it took us like half an hour to check out! he was literally dying waiting in line at checkout for it to be our turn.” sungchan giggled softly, thinking off his boyfriend’s face while the other 6 stared at him blankly, sohee sighing. “that had nothing to do with the conversation but thanks for the information!” shotaro exclaimed, sungchan snapping out of his daze to stick his tongue out at his friend, the thought of you still on his mind.

✦’i love you’s are very much an every single second of every single day thing for sungchan

✦he never worries about it losing it’s effect on you

✦if he loves you, you deserve to know it every minute you’re together!

✦it’s one of his core beliefs in your relationship and he sticks by it

✦whenever he has to leave for work before you wake up, he makes sure (or so you’ve heard) to press a soft kiss to your head before whispering how much he loves you and leaving the house

✦if he’s really rushing, he’ll leave a note on the nightstand for you to find when you wake up<33

channie<3

i love you<33

chan :(( i love you too!

okay bye bye i rllyyygotta go now but i justwanted to let you know :)

:((( CUTIEST

haha ty! :(

✦he loves taking you on dates!

✦whether it’s a day at the beach or running a quick errand to the grocery store that ends in a picnic, he loves to spend time with you

✦his favorite type of date to have with you though are the cozy rest days you’ll have together in the country side on his days off

✦spending all day latched at the hip as you relax in the sun, running into the cold ocean in your underwear, and taking late nights all to yourselves is sungchan’s favorite way to unwind

✦one of his secret dreams for when you’re older is to buy a house out in the countryside with you and build your family together!

✦he wants nothing more than to love you for the rest of your lives and it’s the sweetest thing ever!!

“y/n, watch this!” sungchan said, y/n looking up from his sand castle to see sungchan jump into the air, making a heart above his head before he fell into the waves. laughter escaped from y/n’s mouth as he saw sungchan emerge from the ocean, a disgusted look on his face as he coughed heavily, scrunching up his nose before covering the skin with his right palm.

“ah i got saltwater up my nose.” he complained, y/n staring at his tan chest gleaming in the sunlight, his swim trunk hanging lowly to wear the dips of sungchan’s hips peeked above the fabric. “chan!” y/n called, sungchan meeting y/n’s eyes with a newfound smile. “hmm?” he replied, y/n giving him a heart with his hands in return. sungchan stumbled backwards holding his hands over his heart, falling back into the water.

“ack, my boyfriend is so adorable!” he cried, y/n laughing as sungchan was hit with a wave, causing his feet to kick up as he tried to stand. “help me y/n!” he asked, y/n running into the surf, only for him to fall down when he and sungchan collided over the sand bar.

“you were supposed to help me.” sungchan pouted, y/n pecking his salty lips. “oops.” he giggled, sungchan wrapping his arms around y/n’s waist, moving his head to bite his boyfriend’s cheek. “ahh!” y/n cried, sungchan pulling them out of the cold water and into the warm sun, his boyfriend’s bright smile making his heart flutter.

✦in conclusion, one of sungchan’s most important thing in his personal life is you<3

✦he wants no one but you as his boyfriend, and would do anything to make sure you’re happy and satisfied with your relationship together

✦he’s so smitten for you and he wants the world to know! like yes, you are the light of his life! and you’re going to hear about it!

✦and at the end of the day, he knows you’re always there for him when he needs it

✦he’s so so so happy you found each other and is grateful everyday for your love<3

✦no one will EVER compare to you and he hopes you know that!

✦he’ll make sure you stay together forever at each other’s sides, living your life with eternal happiness and joy

there’s SO much more i could put in here but i’m stopping for my mental stability

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 1

Pairing: 3Racha x reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive Themes, Swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: That‘s the first chapter of a series, I‘m writing. It‘s my first time on tumblr… So I‘m a bit confused 0.0

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

It was one of those goldfish nights where you felt the need to drift in the waters of ecstasy and then forget everything naughty you had done. As if it had never happened.

Everyone did that when they shut down for an evening and dropped all inhibitions.

You'd go to a club, surrender to the neon lights, the sound of the music, and the alcohol, only to pretend the next day that you'd never danced close with strangers, drunkenly ripped your clothes off, or disappeared into a dark corner with the next best guy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Your group of friends from university had invited you to go to one of the best and trendiest clubs in town, as they said. You didn't go out partying often, but when you did, you left all your worries at home for one night, and tonight was exactly the night you had something to celebrate.

After years of unsuccessful job hunting, you had finally gotten an acceptance letter.

Tomorrow afternoon would your first day at the new company start. Since you had only been living in Korea for a few months, you didn't know the company, so you were even more surprised when you got an acceptance letter for the job after only three days. It seemed like, they liked your profile so much, that they immediately chose you.

You had experience as a music and media journalist and had worked all over the world. Maybe that was exactly what they wanted.

So, to get rid of the excitement, you had accepted and gone to this club with old friends to have fun.

The bass vibrated in your ears and the lights immediately lulled you into the boisterous atmosphere.

Only after a few minutes you stood at bar and ordered the drinks for everyone. There was a group of seven people and you had lost three rounds of scissors-stone-paper. So now you had to take care of the drinks.

Once you ordered everything from memory and remembered the extra requests, even the bartender was impressed.

While he mixed the drinks, you leaned against the bar and looked towards the table that your friends had meanwhile conquered.

"You were able to memorize all that?", asked someone to your left, who was apparently also waiting for his drink.

"Sure... I have a pretty good memory”, you returned, giving the young man a curt look.

He smiled and that's when the bartender came over and set three drinks out for him.

His dark hair fell into his forehead and you looked at the silver rings on his fingers.

"That makes me jealous. I keep forgetting important things..."

He was cute, you had to admit. Although he was obviously trying to look tough with the tank top and leather jacket, his features were soft and his eyes sparkled like buttons in the spotlight. He was a weird mixture between hot and adorable.

You were served your first drinks and averted your eyes from the odd stranger.

"But I'll definitely remember your face!"

Your eyebrows shot up, as his pickup line was actually quite smooth. You turned back to him and couldn't help but smirk at his expectant look.

That's when you spotted two other guys behind him. They were whispering and giggling like kids while watching their friend. Apparently, he hadn't come to the bar just for the drinks.

"Are you flirting with me?", you asked, leaning back against the counter with a teasing grin.

He tilted his head and the corners of his mouth lifted mischievously. In fact, he was really attractive and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"I don't know... Does it work?”

This time you actually had to laugh.

"I gotta go, but feel free to tell your buddies I'm all over you”, you replied, nodding in the direction of the other two, who couldn't avoid to look over at us unobtrusively.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly and then grabbed his forehead with one hand.

"Those idiots..." he muttered more to himself and then put on an apologetic smile.

So you waved at a couple of your friends to help you with the drinks and carry them to the table.

"See you around”, you said goodbye and he just raised his hand sheepishly.

Back at your table, your friend Aiki grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and shook you.

"That guy at the bar! Were you talking to him?"

Confused at her excitement, you glanced again at the bar, where he was now carrying drinks to his friends.

"Yeah, why? He tried to flirt and obviously failed... Although he's really cute," you said with amusement, swirling the straw in your drink.

“No way!”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head and you still didn't understand.

"What's so special about him?"

"I'm pretty sure that's Han", she explained, as if you had the slightest idea who she was talking about.

When you didn't reply, she said:

"Han Jisung! He is a member of this new K-pop band. They won a big survival-Show a few years ago, and everyone's been really into them ever since."

Sometimes you forget that in addition to her job as a journalist in Korea, she also had a fondness for all K-pop bands. She was almost obsessed with them. BTS was the reason she had gotten into the media world in the first place.

You, on the other hand, had only recently returned to Korea. Even though you were born here, you had spent very little time in the country.

The evening took its course and soon the shot glasses were piling up in front of you, the music sounded more and more enticing and eventually you were magically drawn to the dance floor with a few of your friends.

Another passion of you was dancing.

You had even given dance lessons in America to teenagers and young adults your age. You missed dancing here in Korea.

Therefore, it hardly took a second for you to move your body to the music. It was your very own therapy that brought your mind and body back into harmony.

The music flowed through the speakers directly into your blood and with the alcohol, any inhibitions fell away. Soon you lost your girlfriends somewhere among the people and danced alone. You didn't mind, but that's when you felt someone approaching from behind.

"Don't be startled", a soft voice murmured, and you looked over your shoulder into a frighteningly beautiful face.

Torn from your movement, you stumbled against his chest and he placed a hand firmly on your hip to keep you from losing your balance.

Astonished you turned around completely and the man looked as if he already regretted having approached you. He ran his hand through his dark hair and his biceps stood out.

He was wearing a simple shirt with a denim jacket and the broad shoulders and shy smile didn't quite want to match.

"My friend didn't mean to scare you away earlier. If he said something stupid, I'm really sorry."

That's when you finally recognized him. He was one of that K-pop-Han's friends.

"His pick-up line actually wasn't that bad", you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

In front of his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt small.

Now he looked genuinely surprised.

"Oh... Okay. Do you want to maybe have a drink with us? He could apologise and you seem a little lost all by yourself."

Judging by his engaging aura, maybe he was also part of that band you had never heard of. However, you highly doubted it. Idols were not that friendly. In all the interviews you had done with K-pop bands, the members had always been reserved and cold.

The man in front of you, on the other hand, radiated warmth and his eyes reflected a gentleness that contrasted completely with his massive appearance.

You nodded, after all you didn't feel like looking for your friends. You might as well use the time to meet new people. And the guy made you really curious.

Relieved, he exhaled loudly and let you walk ahead. He led you to a sitting area, where black sofas stood. There you already discovered the guy from the bar, who was talking to the third person.

When he spotted you,he fell silent and looked at you as if he had been hit by a punch.

"I'm Chan, by the way”, the man next to you introduced himself and gave you a soft smile.

"My name is Y/N”, you introduced yourself as well. He smiled broadly and you could only stare at his dimples for a moment.

As you got to the others, his buddy now looked to you and immediately grinned like an idiot.

If Chan was broadly built, this guy was a wall. He wore a tight black shirt under which his defined muscles were very present and the sleeves were so tight around his upper arms that you feared they would burst at any moment.

But he was also unusually attractive. There was something about them all that made it impossible to look away.

"Guys, this is Y/N”, Chan introduced you, and the muscleman stood up to bow curtly.

"I'm Changbin. So our Hannie didn't scare you away too much?"

Said Hannie was still sitting frozen on the sofa, looking at you as if you had flown across the room on a unicorn.

"No, he was actually quite charming. A little awkward, but nice”, you replied with amusement, glaring at him.

"You hear that? She didn't think it was as terrible as it looked from here."

Changbin patted his friend on the shoulder with a chuckling laugh, and he just puckered his mouth in embarrassment.

Then suddenly Chan was standing next to you again with two drinks in his hands. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so now I just got a strawberry margarita and a caipirinha. Have whatever you want! I'll have the other one then."

Surprised by his kindness, you blinked at him a bit surprised. Never had a guy been so accommodating in a bar.

"I'll have the margarita. Thank you.”

You sat down and ended up between Jisung and Chan. It wasn't long before Han had regained his confidence back and you were toasting, chatting, and you completely lost track of time.

The guys were really friendly and even though you were the only woman, you didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable in their presence. You even felt quite safe, which was naive considering that you had met them only a few hours ago.

But the alcohol helped to throw all worries overboard.

"I've seen you dance.... Do you do it professionally?", Chan asked, and you felt his thigh brush yours.

Restlessly, you tugged at the hem of your black dress. It reached your thighs and nestled comfortably against your body. Han looked at your legs and cleavage when he thought you wouldn't notice.

Chan, on the other hand looked so deeply into your eyes that you feared he could read your mind.

"I'm a dance teacher. But it's just a hobby."

Changbin leaned forward with interest and nodded.

"What do you do for a living?", asked Han now, and you tried to ignore Chan's hand resting on his thigh, almost touching your leg.

"I'm a music journalist. In fact, I moved back to Korea because I got a job here."

"That sounds exciting!" said Chan, his knuckles seemingly inadvertently brushing you bare skin. Your foggy mind immediately wondered what he would look like without the tank top.

Before you got even more lost in his eyes, you asked:

"And you guys? How do you know each other?"

"We were trained together and we also work together now”, Changbin began, and you noticed the warning looks from the other two.

"So you're self-employed?", you probed further.

Maybe your friend had been mistaken and they weren't in a band at all. Chan nodded quickly before Jisung could open his mouth.

"Yeah right. Us and some friends developed our own brand."

"Sounds cool”, you replied, as the alcohol gradually drove you away from the conversation. You were finding it harder and harder to focus between the men.

So you asked: "Are you guys coming to the dance floor?" You had to do something to get away from Chans teasing hands, Jisungs sweet glares and Changbins biceps.

Han pouted and shook his head.

"I'm going to stay here. Unfortunately, I hurt my foot and need to take it easy."

He really looked like he wanted to sprint out onto the dance floor but couldn't.

"I'll stay with Hannie”, Changbin said, leaning back on the sofa.

"Just the two of us, then", you said to Chan.

Before he could talk back, you pulled him to his feet by his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor.Once there, you turned to him and began to move automatically to the beat of the music.

The alcohol made all the people, the music and the lights melt into one mass and before you understood it, you were dancing pressed tightly against Chan.

At first he was timid, as if he was afraid to touch you, but gradually he became bolder. He also moved smoothly. Controlled and conscious.

Like a dancer.

"You can dance?", you asked amused, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughed sheepishly and put his hands on your waist.

"A little”, he replied close to your ear so you could hear him over the loud music. Up close, his lips looked even more enticing and you wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked. His eyes were now roaming up and down your face as well.

You turned and leaned back against his chest and pressed your ass agains his body. A knowing grin spread across your face as you felt his fingers digging harder into your sides as you rolled your hips against his.

He moved with you and with every little touch, the air charged electrically. You were insanely hot and his shirt was also sticking to his body by now. You grinded your ass harder against him and he immediately had to gasp right at your ear.

That's when he quickly turned you around so that you bounced against his chest.

"What are you doing?" he murmured in your ear and you let your fingertips trail over his chest.

"Nothing...", you replied, looking at him through your long lashes. The corners of his mouth slowly lifted and he began to get into the game, letting his hands wander down your back until they were firmly pressed against your ass.

The alcohol breathed carelessness and desire into the two of you.

His lips hovered in front of yours and suddenly you didn't hear the music anymore. His hot breath bounced against your lips and that's when he started spreading kisses on your neck. Overwhelmed by the sudden tension on your skin, you curled your fingers into his shirt.

His lips brushed over your skin as light as a feather, down to your collarbone and finally to your cleavage.

He looked up at you, and the same heat that tightened into a ball in your stomach was reflected in his eyes.

Without thinking any further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. As soon as you were a little off to the side, in a corner that was dimly lit, you felt his hands on your waist.

Stormily, he pressed you against the wall and that's when his lips finally collided with yours.

That embarrassed, charming boy from before was gone. In its place had come a passionate and wild tornado that swept you helplessly along with it.

His lips moved hard against yours as you buried your hands in his hair.

His broad shoulders shielded you from the rest of the club, and your heart beat so loudly it felt like it wanted to jump out of your chest.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your body, every curve and every patch of skin not covered by fabric.

For a moment, he broke the kiss so you could both catch your breath. His forehead was pressed firmly against yours and there he was grinning again as sheepishly as before.

You were breathing heavily and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't usually do this", he muttered and that's when your eyes met.

"Yeah, me neither", you replied.

That was the truth.

It took a long time for someone to pique your interest, and you usually didn't let people get to you that easily.

But with Chan, suddenly this heat was flowing in your veins and you couldn't turn off the desire even if you tried.

"Actually, I wanted to help Jisung.... I'm a horrible wing man."

"Yeah that's right. Your pretty bad…”

As if he actually had a guilty conscience, he pressed his lips together.

That made you laugh and you had to put your hand over your mouth as he eyed you with those dark eyes.

"Do you regret it?", you asked after a short silence.

Directly, he shook his head.

"No. Definitely not. You're stunning."

That did bring a blush to your cheeks.

Not wanting him to see how much his words flattered you, you pulled him closer again and kissed him intensely.

He pressed you against him until you felt his bulge clearly against your already soaked cunt.

"I want to fuck you right now”, he growled with a deep voice, that turned you even more on.

An excited moan escaped you and you rolled your hips harder against his growing bulge. It would have been easy to push your panties aside and free his dick so he could fuck you in the dark corner against the wall like a slut.

Your head was spinning and you wanted to tear his shirt off his body here and now. But the wild smooching quickly found its end when a voice sounded behind Chan.

"I really don't want to disturb you, but we have to go, Chan!"

He merely released his lips from yours and hung his head, not releasing you from his grip. His hands gripped even harder into your hips.

"Already?"

Changbin had a big grin on his face and you stared at the floor.

"Yeah... You know what's coming up tomorrow. And Han had way to much drinks."

There was a certain professionalism returning to Chans body as he heard about his friend.

"Hannie is already waiting in the cab. Hurry up!"

Chan nodded, then Changbin turned to you again.

"It was nice meeting you."

With that, he awkwardly said goodbye and left.

"I'm so sorry, but I really have to go", Chan said, as if he needed to justify himself, and you suppressed a disappointed sigh.

Instead, you simply nodded. It was getting late for you to go home as well. After all, you had your first day of work tomorrow.

And so the mysterious charming man disappeared and you remembered much too late that you hadn't asked him for his number.

--

The two rappers raised their eyes as their friend finally got into the car. After they drove off, Han asked while rubbing his eyes with one hand:

"What took you so long? We were supposed to be back at the dorm by now. We have a busy schedule tomorrow..."

Chan swallowed and was glad he was sitting in front of his friends and didn't have to face them. So they couldn't see that he was stained red up to his ears. With his arm he tried to hide his erection that won’t get soon if this girl won’t stop to ghost around his head.

He knew that tonight had been a big risk. If someone had recognized him and taken pictures of him with the young woman, he would have been screwed. He didn't know himself what had come over him.

"Hyung?", Han tried again, sounding annoyed. There was silence for a few minutes until Changbin couldn't take it anymore and it just burst out of him.

"I just caught Chan making out wildly with that girl."

The oldest whirled around in his seat despite his seatbelt and stared at Changbin. But Han looked surprised, not angry.

"Really?" he asked, and that's when one corner of his mouth began to lift.

"We just kissed for a second", he justified himself, and Changbin couldn't help but laugh.

"From what I saw, it was a miracle you were still wearing clothes at all. You almost fucked her right next to the dance floor."

Chan lashed out, but couldn't reach Changbin in the back and hit the air. This now made Jisung laugh as well, and they continued to tease him all the way to their apartment, where the rest of the Stray Kids were sleeping.

But in the next morning all of them knew the story of their leader fiercely making out with a hot girl at the club and did not stop teasing him.

-> Part 2

——————————————————————————

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[steddieasitgoes]

you can call me boyfriend for the weekend

I posted this earlier as a link to ao3 but I know some people like to read things straight on tumblr so this is for you people lol As noted, this was supposed to be a short little ficlet inspired by unfortunate "Black Out Wednesday"/hook up with someone in your hometown pre-Thanksgiving ritual and then Steve got a backstory and Eddie wanted a POV and it spiraled out of control like most of my work lol Also I wrote this all in twelve hours and it's not beta read at all lol but enjoy! And please ignore the wonky timeline. It's canon-divergent/no Upside Down. But basically in my head, all the normal things that happened to Steve/Eddie still happened in this universe and they got close during the Autumn months of 1986. I think that's all you need to know! wc: 8.8k | rated: M Read on ao3

The Hideout is unusually packed.

In hindsight, Steve should have figured as much. It’s not like he’s the only former resident in town who needs a shot or two (okay, maybe three, but who’s really counting other than the barkeep logging everyone’s tabs) of liquid courage before heading home to spend a few days with family. The overflowing parking lot and illegally double and triple-parked cars on the street are still a sight to see when he steps out of the Yellow Taxi.

Maybe he should have taken the cute stewardess up on the alcohol offer on the plane. Would have saved him a couple of bucks that’s for damn sure. Still, every time he was about to, Robin’s nagging voice would pop into his head, spewing one of her nonsense rambles about the importance of being fully coherent on an airplane, lest they have to land the plane as if he’d have the skills to land a plane in the first place. And yet, he remained stone-cold sober on the couple-hour flight into Indianapolis from Boston just in case.

Sure, there’s liquor at his parent's house — at least, he hopes they haven’t packed up the dry bar if they did, he’s really fucked this weekend — but he needs something now to keep the anxiety bubbling in his chest at bay. And last time he checked The Hideout is the only place within a twenty-mile radius that can serve up a quick, cheap drink. Plus, there’s the fact that the Yellow Taxi he took here from the airport has already disappeared into the night, and he’s not about to go inside to call another cab without buying something; that would be rude.

In yet another surprising twist, that shouldn’t be surprising given the parking situation; there’s a small line of people waiting to get in. In the nineteen and a half years he spent in Hawkins, Steve’s never seen a line in front of The Hideaway. He knows for a fact that the place never had a bouncer, much less one who meticulously cards everyone who walks in.

Well, everyone but him it seems.

Steve doesn’t even get his wallet open, much less out of his pocket, before the man is wrapping a bright orange ’21 and over’ wristband on his wrist. Which, like, ouch. He knows he just got off a flight after working a half-day shift at the stupid office, but he can’t look that much like an adult. Can he?

Thankfully, there’s no time to dwell on his fleeting youth as he’s pushed into the crowded bar with the rest of the customers who patiently waited their turn in the frigid Indiana November evening.

The familiar scent hits him the second he’s more than three steps through the opened doors — stale beer, nicotine, the undeniable musk bodies emit when they’re dancing and, well, horny. But there’s also something new going on, too. Crisp leather, a piney scene that can only be associated with floor cleaner, and something minty, peppermint, he thinks, maybe for the upcoming holidays. Gone is the stench of piss that no amount of power washing the concrete floors could ever scrub up. Steve notices the concrete floor is gone, too, apparently, as his shoes squeak against the shiny black laminate.

There are a few new booths from the looks of things, and the stage has gotten a major upgrade since the last time he was here to see… He shakes the thought from his head and keeps walking until he finds an open spot in the corner of the bar.

A bartender materializes the second his ass makes contact with the new vinyl seat. She looks vaguely familiar, too young to be in his class, but maybe someone from Henderson’s year. He figures he’ll be downing glasses of expensive wine when he finally musters up the courage to go home, so he orders a shot of tequila and a rum and coke in the meantime. She pours the shot right there, excusing herself to grab the rum bottle from one of the other bartenders working tonight.

He grimaces as he shoots it back, tequila burning his throat as it goes down before he sucks the sliver of lime between his lips. It’s impossible for the effects to kick in this fast, but he already feels the tension easing from his shoulders. He uses the reprieve from his anxiety to really take everything in. The Hideout may have gotten some major upgrades, but he can’t say the same about its patrons.

It’s a real who’s who of Hawkins High has-beens. Andy and a couple of younger guys he remembers playing ball with his junior year of high school, all wearing their Greek letter crewnecks, downing beers and slapping each other on the back. Jason’s in the center with his arm around a stereotypical-looking blonde who is clearly not from around here. Heather Holloway is unmistakable, pressed into a booth arguing with some guy Steve thinks was on their swim team while their three kids jump around unchecked. And is that Chrissy Cunningham with… Gareth? That nerd from Dustin’s D&D group? Steve makes a mental note to bring it up with Dustin when the little shit calls him next because holy shit.

It takes him a minute to spot Tommy and Carol, but once he does, he doesn’t know how he didn’t see them sooner. They’re pressed up against each other, practically dry-humping in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. Tommy’s got his tongue shoved down Carol’s throat, and her hand is fisted into his buttoned shirt that’s definitely a size too small. 

Somethings never change, he thinks, rolling his eyes as the pair stumble their way towards the bathrooms at the opposite end of the bar.

Steve’s about to turn back around and disappear into the shadowy corner he’s found himself in when the static feedback of the seemingly brand-new speakers goes off, sending every patron in the bar covering their ears.

“Sorry! Sorry!” A man calls from the makeshift sound booth a few yards away from Steve. “Give it another go for me?”

“Check one, check one, two. Sounds great, Frank. We’re all set up here if you are,” a woman says from the stage. Steve figures she gets a non-verbal cue from Dave because then she’s talking again, her voice bright and way louder than it needs to be. The giggle that comes next is even worse. “Hi everyone! Lots of familiar faces in the crowd tonight.”

It takes his eyes a minute to adjust to the bright spotlight illuminating the stage, but when it does, he nearly falls out of his seat. Is that?

“Anyways, I’m Tammy, and these are the Townies, and we’re Tammy and the Townies!”

Holy shit! It’s Tammy Thompson. The Tammy Thompson. Robin is going to be so pissed when he calls and tells her about this tomorrow morning. She’ll probably say that he was just seeing things, blame it on the single shot of tequila he’s had since he’s still waiting for his drink, but he knows the truth. Especially when Tammy launches into the opening lines of “Santa Baby,” trying her best to be sultry but still sounding like a rejected Muppet.

Someone chuckles behind Steve, before an all too familiar voice says, “I haven’t heard that one before.”

His first thought is: Shit, did he say that out loud?

And then comes something even worse: Wait, I know that voice.

All the anxiety the shot of tequila chased off comes surging back to Steve, swirling in his gut, threatening to creep up his throat and out his mouth. No. He’s not going to throw up in The Hideout after one shot, not with the entirety of his high school class in attendance. And definitely not in front of Eddie Munson.

There’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that it's anyone but Eddie Munson standing behind him and the bar. He would know that voice and chuckle anywhere, could pick it out in a line-up if he had to after the fall of 1985 when they— nope, not going there.

The way he sees it, he has two options. One, get the hell out of here without turning around. It’s dark in the corner, so there’s a chance Eddie hasn’t realized who he’s talking to yet; in fact, Steve’s pretty sure if Eddie knew who he just spoke to, he never would have opened his mouth to begin with. So, yeah, he could get the hell out of here, maybe leave a couple of bucks at the opposite end of the bar on the way out so he’s not drinking and ditching, and then hail a cab and head to his childhood house.

Or, he could woman the fuck up, as Robin would say, turn around and meet the gaze of a man he hasn’t seen since he was nineteen, confused and desperate to make something out of himself.

He weighs the cons: spend a few extra hours with his parents or face Eddie Munson, the only person other than Robin to ever see him. The real him.

The answer is easy.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie says, sizing Steve up with those big doe eyes of his the second Steve turns in his chair. “If it isn’t Steve Harrington in the flesh. What the hell are you doing around these parts? Thought you left to go make daddy dearest proud?”

Ouch.

Steve should have expected Eddie not to mince words, even if he is a paying customer and all. He doesn’t allow himself to get a good look at Eddie, meeting him with his own mean-spirited retort instead.

“Guess I should have known you’d still be around, Munson,” Steve snarks. Eddie wants to play? Steve’ll gladly participate. “Still flunking out of high school?”

“Now that one I have heard before.”

Eddie doesn’t stick around for a response. He slams Steve’s rum and coke on the bar counter and gives it a rough shove. The glass slides across the sleek countertop before crashing into Steve’s awaiting hand. The drink sloshes in the cup, a few droplets spilling out, but Steve doesn’t have the energy to wave Eddie down and demand a replacement, so he shuts up and brings the now half-empty glass to his lips. He takes a much-needed gulp and then another, alcohol going down better than the shot from earlier, dulling the regret from his mean-spirited retort with it. He sulks for a moment before letting his eyes drift behind the bar. Searching.

If The Hideout is crowded, the bar is just as congested. At least four bartenders shimmy around each other. Hands reaching for various bottles, glasses clinking as ice falls in. It’s the most people Steve’s ever seen behind the small bar top, and he’s willing to bet it’s more than they’re legally allowed.

Fire code and all that.

Not that he knows much about that.

Not yet, at least.

He will once he starts his Fire Academy classes in the new year.

That is, assuming his dad doesn’t kill him the minute he finds out about his career change.

That’s a problem for tomorrow, Steve thinks, shaking the thought away and chasing it further by draining the rest of his drink.

“Can I getcha’ another round?” The young bartender asks, reappearing like a damn bar fairy.

Steve’s not sure he’s fully thought his order out, too preoccupied stealing glances at Eddie, but his lips start moving anyway, words escaping before he has a chance to stop them, “Actually, can I get a Vodka Party Punch with pickle juice instead of pineapple.”

“Pickle juice? Are you sure?”

Shit.

No.

Yes.

Steve quietly contemplates changing his unusual order, tilting his empty rum and coke glass to his lips, desperate for another teaspoon of liquid courage. He’s met with the cool sensation of ice hitting his teeth instead. Another not-so-subtle sneak at Eddie, and Steve doubles down. “Yeah. Eddie should know how to make it.”

“Oh, uh, ” the bartender says, nervously glancing to her right.

Steve follows her line of vision, giving himself permission to do more than glance this time, and finds Eddie on the opposite end tossing around bottles and the shaker like he’s fucking Tom Cruise in Cocktails and not a super-senior who half the town was convinced was a Satanist.

“Let me see what I can do for you.”

Steve gives her his best customer service smile and a quick nod before watching her shuffle through the other bartenders on her quest to get to Eddie.

He lets his eyes linger as Eddie finally doles out the drink he’s been working on. Five years and some change has been good on him. His hair is still as unruly as ever, twisted back in a low bun at the base of his neck. Tending to the bar has clearly served his arms well judging by the tone biceps peaking out from under his black shirt. It’s done wonders for his entire body, if Steve’s honest, sizing up the way he finally fills out his jeans.

Eddie turns just so, new piercings catching in the reflection of the spotlight from the stage. Steve catalogs them, a few new ones to his ears, a hoop in his left nostril. There’s new ink, too, decorating his strong forearms and peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

Steve’s attraction to Eddie isn’t a surprise, especially after the Fall of ‘86. But it’s like a match has just ignited a new flame in the depths of his body. He looks good, is all. Really, really good.

Steve’s pulled from his not-so-subtle ogling when the young bartender finally gets Eddie’s attention. He can’t hear the conversation, but he spent enough time around Eddie to know what the man is saying without even looking at his lips. Her back is to him, but Steve knows the minute he brings up the drink because Eddie’s body goes stiff, his head jolting toward Steve, eyes growing wide as he glares at him from the opposite end of the bar.

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s truly fucked up. Well, more than he did five and a half years ago when he let his dad convince him to set him up with a job in Boston that forced him to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, least of all Eddie. But then he sees the moment Eddie’s stubbornness sets in, clouding his eyes and forcing his chunky boots to stomp through the hoard of sweaty bartenders.

“Did you come all the way home to fuck with me?” Eddie barks, still a foot and a half away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit, Harrington,” Eddie snaps, hands smacking onto the countertop.

When Steve doesn’t say anything, Eddie rages on. If it wasn’t for Tammy Thompson’s wailing in the background, Steve’s pretty sure they’d have everyone’s attention right now. Thank God for Tammy Thompson.

“Seriously? Pickle juice!”

Steve’s hit with the familiar woodsy, nicotine smell he spent months chasing around town as Eddie drops to his elbows, leaning in closer to Steve. For a second, he thinks Eddie is going to deck him, at the very least fist his hand into his shirt and yank him forward, but he doesn’t.

“I know damn well you’re not ordering Vodka Party Punch with fucking pickle juice at the fancy bars wherever you ended up. What makes you think you can order one here now?”

“You’re right, I don’t order them in Boston,” Steve says, answering the question Eddie really didn’t ask. “But I’m ordering it now because you’re the creator of the drink, and I know you’ll make it taste right.”

Steve watches Eddie’s jaw drop. The bar is dimly lit but it doesn’t take florescent lights to catch the red tinting the tips of Eddie’s ears, fully exposed with his hair pulled back in a bun. It’s been a minute since Steve attempted this game with anyone, but Eddie’s always been a fun participant — especially when he’s pretending he doesn’t like it.

“I’m charging you double,” Eddie concedes, twirling the giant skull ring still perched on his finger.

“Better make it worth my dime, Munson.”

“You know I always do, Harrington,” Eddie taunts, clearly finding his footing in this flirtatious sparing match they’ve started. 

* * *

By the time Eddie returns with his drink, Tammy and the Townsies have wrapped up their set for the night — thank god — and The Hideout slowly starts to empty out. With a few less bodies occupying the actual bar, Eddie has no problem sticking around, tossing his dish rag over his shoulder as he slides the Vodka Party Punch with pickle juice over to Steve, much gentler this time.

The drink smells exactly like he remembers, but the presentation has improved since their days of mixing them in the Munson’s crowded kitchen. A mini pickle is skewered through a toothpick as garnish, and the glass is tall and clean, a rarity in the mug-infested kitchen of that autumn.

Steve makes a show of his first sip, slowly raising the glass to his mouth without breaking eye contact with Eddie as he licks his lips in anticipation. Eddie’s eyes dilate the second Steve’s tongue makes an appearance, and it takes everything in Steve not to jump across the bar and shove it down Eddie’s throat a la Carol and Tommy style. He knows the Eddie from five autumns ago wouldn’t mind, but this Eddie might.

He does the next best thing instead, taking a slow sip of the drink, exaggerating when he swallows before punctuating the first taste with a low moan of approval. Judging by the smattering of pink moving to Eddie’s cheeks, it works.

“Delicious, just like I remembered.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. He knows it the minute the words leave his lips, and the flush on Eddie’s cheeks drains to a ghostly white , eyes turning to fire.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that,” Eddie scoffs, snapping his dish towel off his shoulder to wipe the counter.

“I just, I—“ Steve groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. Leave it to him to be back in Hawkins for less than three hours and already fuck things up. “Thank you,” he finally says, eyes trained on his drink. “You didn’t have to make it, and you did, so thanks.”

“Whatever customers want, they get here at The Hideout.”

Steve can’t help but snort, “S’that a new motto?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

When Steve glances up, Eddie’s smiling at him. Not his toothy grin Steve loved to coax out of him, but his lips are definitely quirked into a grin which he’ll take as a win. Small victories and all that.

“That what they pay you the big bucks for? Slinging drinks like Tom Cruise and coming up with new slogans?”

“Something like that.” Eddie finishes wiping down the counter in front of Steve and moves half a step to his right, working on the next area that’s vacated.

Steve thinks that’s it. The beginning and end of their civil conversation, but then Eddie looks across the bar, no doubt taking in the empty state of things, before turning back to look at Steve. Really, look at him.

If it weren’t for the liquor coursing through Steve’s veins, he doesn’t think he’d be able to sit there under Eddie’s gaze. But he does have alcohol on his side, so he stays glued to his seat, his own cheeks heating up as Eddie’s brown eyes roam over his body, taking him in the same way he did with Eddie a while ago.

When he’s done, Eddie cocks his head to the side and tuts. “You’ve seen better days, Harrington. I think your eye bags have eye bags.”“Corporate life’ll do that to you,” Steve grumbles, taking another sour sip from his drink. When Eddie doesn’t throw a dig he knows is on the tip of his tongue, Steve breaks the silence. “You look good behind a bar.” Jesus, maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. “I mean, uh, how long have you been working here.”

Eddie snorts, coming back over until he’s right in front of Steve. He drops to his elbows again, pillowing his chin in his hands as he makes direct eye contact. “About five-ish years ago. Right after I graduated.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I, uh, thought the plan was to get the hell out of here?”

Eddie hums. “It was. Took the job to save money so I could do just that.”

“And you ended up loving it?”

“Hated it at first, actually, but you know we’re not all lucky enough to be able to get the hell out of Hawkins just because people tell us we should,” Eddie says, eyes boring judgment into Steve’s own. “Figured if I have to stick around I might as well try and make it better for those of us still here.”

“That’s what you’re doing, then?” Steve asks, generally curious. He always knew Eddie had a savior complex, saw it firsthand when Dustin and the rest of the kids started high school, and immediately got swept up in Eddie’s inner circle of outcasts. “Making Hawkins better?”

“Trying to,” Eddie says, and Steve can feel the walls around him shrinking, only for them to harden in an instant. “Turns out it’s a lot easier when the assholes flee.”

Steve winces and downs the rest of his drink. When it’s drained, he sets it down and fumbles through his pockets for his wallet. He gets no more than three measly bucks out before Eddie is shooing him away.

“It’s on the house tonight.”

Steve shakes his head, digging back into his wallet “Don’t think your boss’ll be happy about that.

“Good thing m’the boss then.”

Steve gawks. He’s pretty sure his jaw is fully open, but it's worth it to see the pleased look on Eddie’s face. “Shit, seriously?”

“What, you think old Dave was the one to plan the renovation of this place? That cheapskate was slinging water tinted brown with food coloring to the regulars once they got drunk enough not to tell.”

Steve laughs, but doesn’t get distracted with the anecdote like he knows Eddie hopes he will. Eddie Munson might have his heart in his sleep, but if there’s one thing Steve knows about him, it’s that he hates being emotionally vulnerable. Steve can’t say he blames him, but still, he presses on.

“Eddie Munson, CEO of the Hideout. Who would have thought?”

“I don’t know about CEO,” Eddie says, fingers struggling with the elastic holding his hair back. It takes a second for him to get the strands untangled, and when it does, his hair cascades over his shoulder in those same unruly curls Steve tried to tame once or twice. Eddie’s hand immediately finds a strand, twirling it around his fingers and pulling it towards his lips. “Owner as of the first of the year, though.”

“Eds, that’s really fucking cool. Holy shit! Congrats! I feel like we should toast or something.”

If Eddie catches the nickname slip up, he doesn’t mention it. Maybe Robin’s patenting ramble so they can’t comprehend every embarrassing thing you’ve said method actually works.

Instead, he waves him off. “Sounds to me like you’re just trying to get another round of free liquor in you before heading home to the parents.”

“Damn,” Steve says, happy to play along. “Am I that obvious?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but ducks behind the counter for a moment, popping back up with two clean cups. He blindly reaches for a top-shelf whiskey and pours just a bit too much to be considered a shot, but not a full serving either. They clink the glasses together in a silent toast before throwing back the over-poured shot like they’re nineteen and twenty again.

“You know,” Eddie says, closing the distance between them as he leans against the countertop again. “We’re looking for some silent investor, partner types to help out with financing. If you, uh, know anyone who might be interested.”

“Oh,” Steve says, liquor making his brain slower than usual.

Eddie pushes off the bar, shaking his head. “Don’t look too excited, Steve. I was just joking.”

“No, shit, I mean, yeah, I would invest. Love to even,” Steve rambles, desperate to keep Eddie from joining the rest of the bartenders in tallying up their tips. “It’s just, uh, I’m actually getting out of the investment world.”

“You don’t have to lie, Harrington. A simple no will do.”

“I’m serious. Today was actually my last day. I’m enrolled in the Fire Academy come January.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, that toothy grin finally making an appearance. “Way to bury the lede, Stevie! We should be toasting to you! Finally getting out from under your dad’s thumb!”

Unlike Eddie, the nickname isn’t lost on Steve, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Not if he wants to keep Eddie smiling, and dammit he does. It’s the only thing he’s ever really wanted.

“I mean, I still have to break the news to my dad. But yeah, assuming he doesn’t kill me, it’s happening.”

“Hey, Munson,” a bartender he realizes is Jeff calls from the opposite end of the bar. “Get your ass over here and close out so we can go home. Some of us actually want to see our families.”

Eddie flips Jeff off but doesn’t budge from his spot in front of Steve.

“I should probably head out, too,” Steve says, slowly rising from the stool. His legs are full of pins and needles, asleep from sitting so long, but he manages to stay upright.

“Wait,” Eddie says, shouting even though all Steve’s done is duck behind the counter to grab his duffle from the floor. “Did you drive here?”

Steve shakes his head. “Took a cab from the airport, gonna use the payphone out back to call another.”

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says in a rush. “I mean, I can’t let you waste your money on a cab when you’re unemployed now.”

“I’m not unemployed, I’m going to—“

“Fire school, yeah, yeah, I got that,” Eddie says, waving him off. “Just give me two minutes, and I’ll drive you home, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Steve makes a show of sounding inconvenienced, which earns a dramatic eye roll from Eddie and a victory for himself. His streak of pretending not to care actually working lives on another day.

* * *

Seven minutes later, thanks to a mathematical error and a hushed conversation between Jeff and Eddie, Steve finds himself in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. “I can’t believe you still have this thing.”

“How is it any different from you still driving the Beamer?”

“How do you know I still drive the Beamer?”

“Please, the only thing you love more than that car is Buckley. Speaking of, where is your platonic other half?”

“Still in Boston. She got asked to write an article for her grad department’s journal.”

“Ah, so she sent you to the lion’s den all on your own,” Eddie teases, slowing to a stop despite the light still being yellow.

“Figured this was one Harrington vs Harrington battle she didn’t need to bear witness to.”

Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart. “My, my, it seems like us lowly mortals are in the presence of the Great Sir Stevebert tonight.”

Steve can’t help but snort. He’s missed this. The easy teasing, the openness. Eddie and his silly voices and even sillier words. He can’t believe he’s gone almost six years without him.

“So,” Eddie says, drawing out the vowel. “Isn’t Dick going to be extra pissed off that you’re showing up on his doorstep at three in the morning?”

Steve shrugs. “Probably.”

“What time were they expecting you?”

“When are they ever really expecting me?” Steve laughs dryly. “I didn’t really give them a set date. Figured if I told my dad I was flying out today, he’d figure out the whole work thing so I told them I’d try to catch a late flight after I finished for the day and be there by Thanksgiving dinner at the latest.”

“So they don’t know you’re in town.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not unless someone at the unofficial Hawkins High reunion tonight ratted me out.”

“Jesus H. Christ you caught that too?” Eddie shouts, smacking his left hand against the dashboard. “I’ve worked plenty of Wednesdays before Thanksgiving, but none of them have pulled that many of our former classmates out. I don’t know why everyone is back in town this year.”

“Back in town or never left?”

“Hey,” Eddie scolds. “Watch it. Your life is in the hands of a Hawkins townie right now.”

Steve holds his hands up in surrender and is glad to see Eddie grinning at him when he musters the courage to steal a glance. He wishes he could offer a careless smile back, but the closer they get to Loch Nora, the more he feels the anxiety creeping in again. Eddie must sense it, too, because he slows to well below the speed limit.

“I wouldn’t mind having a roommate for the night,” he says nonchalantly. Like Eddie’s talking about the weather and not offering to spend the night in Steve’s presence. Steve, the guy who disappeared on him one day after months of fucking around — literally and figuratively. The same Steve who hasn’t been back to Hawkins because he’s been avoiding this exact situation like the chickenshit he is.

“Wayne probably will, though,” Steve says, trying his best to turn Eddie down without actually turning him down. It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the night with him. Hell, he’d sell his left arm for the chance. The problem is it’ll just be one night, and Steve doesn’t think he has that in him. Not when he wants all the nights.

“Good thing he’s not home.”

“Wait,” Steve says, turning in the passenger seat to look at Eddie. “He left you on Thanksgiving? Isn’t that against your Munson Family Code or whatever?”

Eddie snorts, mumbling something that sounds an awful lot like ‘I can’t believe he remembered that’ under his breath. “I told him it was okay. He’s up in Chicago spending the holiday with Scott Clarke’s family.”

“Scott Clarke? The middle school science teacher?”

Eddie nods.

“I didn’t know they were friends.”

Eddie breaks in the middle of the street, leveling Steve with a look he finds himself receiving from Robin all the time. She says people like them are supposed to know when other people are like them, but so far, Steve has yet to inherit that superpower.

“Oh, shit,” he says, finally. “I didn’t know your uncle was into guys.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie laughs. “It was a real memorable day in the Munson’s house when I found out.”

A comfortable silence falls between them as Eddie eases the van back on the rode. They stay like that for a light or two before Eddie rolls to a stop at a familiar intersection.

“Great Sir Stevebert,” he says, switching into his deep, DM voice. “It seems you have a choice to make. Shall you continue on your travels, taking the golden brick road to the lone castle on the hill, or shall you take the road less traveled and embark on the twisting journey to the Moors?”

Once again, the decision is easy.

“If you really don’t mind,” Steve says instead of a definitive answer.

Eddie whoops and makes the sharp right turn that’ll take them to Forest Hills. “Onward, Sir Stevebert, to the Moors, we go!”

_ _ _

Eddie has no idea what he’s doing. One minute he’s fighting with himself, desperate to keep his attention on the out-of-town in-laws of some Hawkins High alumni in need of a blissful night out before the family shit starts and not on the sulking figure of Steve fucking Harrington on the opposite end of the bar. And the next second, he’s ushering that same Steve up the steps of the Munson trailer like he did so many times before.

Jesus H. Christ.

He should have listened to Jeff. He should have called Steve a cab and paid for it himself if it made him sleep better at night. Hell, he should have kicked Steve out the second he mouthed off to him. But he didn’t. And he couldn’t.

Despite all the bullshit, Steve put him through, despite five whole fucking years without so much as a call, Eddie still has a soft spot for the goddamn fallen King. Time heals many things, but the love he has for Steve isn’t one of them.

Love?

No. Strike that from the record.

Infatuation.

A crush, maybe.

Not love.

Not anymore.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, shaking the thought from his entire body, and moves to unlock the door. He gestures for Steve to enter, and Eddie trails behind, bending down at the entrance to untie his work boots and free his sore feet. He wasn’t lying when he told Steve this is the busiest pre-Thanksgiving shift he’s ever worked. He’s pretty sure his blisters have blisters at this point.

His knees ache at the position, so he lets himself fall back, ass on the worn welcome mat as he finishes the task at hand. It feels nice to get off his feet, and he lets himself linger there for a moment. A hand massaging the ache from the arch of his foot while his eyes drift up, watching Steve asses the trailer much like he did the very first time he found himself in the humble abode.

As nice as it is to get off his feet, the last thing Eddie needs is for Steve to turn around and catch him staring at him from a spot on the floor. With a quiet groan, he hoists himself back into a standing position and dusts his hands off on his jeans.

“Wayne getting rid of his mug collection?” Steve asks, breaking the silence. Eddie follows his pointed finger to the top, empty rack shelf the patterned couch.

“No, just relocated ‘m. He spends most nights at Scott’s house now. I basically own the place. Wayne refuses to let me pay the full rent, though, since it’s his name on the lease.”

Steve lets out a low whistle that doesn’t do anything, Eddie, nothing at all, and turns to face him with a look of mischief in his hazel eyes. “Now, who’s the one with a silver spoon.”

He can’t help but laugh at how absurd that sounds. As if inheriting the trailer is some kind of privilege, but in some ways it is, right?

“It’s no rent-free apartment in a big city, but it’ll do,” he says, trying his best to throw a dig back at Steve, but it doesn’t sting the way he wants it to. If anything, it makes Steve’s lips dip into a frown instead of stroking that familiar petty flame he knows stays lit in his gut.

“Come on,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “You think Dick Harrington pays for my place in Boston? The asshole got me a shit job and told me to figure the rest out. I was lucky Robin was already there when I showed up. Her RA wasn’t too pleased, but we made it work that first year.”

Great, now he’s the asshole.

It’s such a different picture than the one he’s spent the last five years painting in his head. That good ol’ Dick Harrington shipped his only son off, far enough away that the town freak couldn’t continue sinking his teeth (and dick) into him without him knowing about it. Set him up with a good job and a nice place to sleep at night that left Steve no choice but to stay even though he knew that’s not what Steve wanted. Never was.

But that’s not the story, is it?

The real story is that Dick Harrington is an even bigger prick than he thought, and Steve is a coward. Eddie can understand Steve staying away if his dad made his new life nice for him and kept him comfortable and just shy of miserable, but he didn’t. And yet, Steve stayed in a job he hated, in a dorm he had no business crashing in because Daddy Dearest told him to do it.

A part of Eddie wants to ask why. Wants to dig his grimy finger into the still-fresh wound in Steve’s chest, judging by the grimace on his face, and get to the bottom of what the hell his dad has over him to keep in line. But what good would it do, really?

Eddie opts for a different strategy instead.

“Why now?”

Steve cocks his head, brows knitting together in that cute confused face Eddie used to love coaxing out of him with a single nerdy phrase back in the day. “Why now what?”

Eddie sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. He could change the subject, shrug off his question, and steer the conversation into calmer waters to get them through the night. But that wouldn’t be fair to him or Steve. Not in the long run.

“It’s been five years since you’ve been in town, Steve,” Eddie says blankly. “Why now?”

“My parents are selling the place,” he answers, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Said they wanted one last family Thanksgiving in the place before it’s not ours anymore. It’s bullshit if you ask me. I can’t remember the last time we spent the holiday together, even when I lived here, but here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve groans, collapsing on the couch behind him. “I don’t know what it is about my parents that has me running to them every time they ask, even though they don’t give a damn about me 99% of the time.”

Eddie follows Steve's lead, settling on the couch but leaving the middle cushion open. An unofficial barrier between them. “I’m no psychologist, but it sounds like textbook daddy issues to me.”

Steve shoves at Eddie’s shoulder, but he doesn’t move, too stunned by the sudden contact to do anything else. Steve’s hand leaves his shoulder as fast as it finds it, but the effects are already in motion. Eddie’s entire body vibrates under the ghost of Steve’s touch, skin alive and hot in a way it hasn’t been in years.

Eddie turns, expecting to find Steve staring off in the distance, but instead, he’s staring at him with those open, honest hazel eyes. All it takes is one look, one single slip of his eyes to Steve’s lip and back again, and Steve’s surging forward, closing the distance between them.

Steve tastes like cheap liquor and pickle juice, and all it takes is one swipe of Steve’s tongue, and Eddie’s transported back to the Fall of 1986. Of experimenting with whatever ingredients they had on hand in the kitchen and throwing back drinks to nurse their respective education wounds — Eddie not graduating again, Steve failing to get into college. Memories of playful shoves turning into wrestling matches turning hot and heavy until lips met lips and skin, so much skin.

Five years may have passed, but it feels like no time at all as Eddie sinks further into Steve’s embrace, fingers tangling in the wisps of hair on Steve’s neck, and Steve’s own hands find themselves tangled in his curls.

It’s only when Steve moves to straddle Eddie’s hip that the reality of the situation hits him. Eddie jolts away; hands braced on Steve’s shoulders to keep a respectable amount of distance between them. He hates himself the moment he looks into Steve’s cloudy hazel eyes, but he’d hate himself more if he let this continue without checking in.

With Steve an arm's length away, Eddie studies him. Squinting as he stares into Steve’s eyes, checking for glassy, unfocused eyes, excessive sweating, and flushed face — all of which Steve has, but maybe not for the reasons Eddie is checking for.

“You’re drunk,” Eddie says plainly.

Steve shakes his head, words, not even the least bit slurred when he says, “No. Maybe a little buzzed, but that’s it. I promise.”

Something snaps inside of Eddie at those two words, releasing the anger his horniess has been holding at bay. In an instant, he feels the rage boiling inside of him, and he shoves at Steve hard enough to send him back to his end of the couch.

“With much offense, Steve,” Eddie says, venom dripping from his lips as he spits out Steve’s name. “Promises don’t mean shit coming from you.”

And just like that, they’re back where they started the evening off. Opposite sides of each other, scowling and hurt in their own ways.

Steve sighs and shifts on the couch, not-so-subtly adjusting himself in his pants. “Eds,” he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I fucked up, okay. I know I did, but what was I supposed to? My dad was threatening you just as much as he was threatening me, and it was just easier to leave.”

“Easier for you, maybe.”

“I—“

“What are we doing here, Steve?” Eddie asks, cutting off whatever lame excuse is coming next.

“I thought I was trying to apologize but clearly I was wrong.”

Eddie can’t help the dark chuckle that escapes him. “So you apologize, and then what? We fuck, you get one last blowjob by the former freak of Hawkins, and then poof, you’re gone again?” Eddie rises from the couch in an instant, sock-covered feet pacing the length of the living room. He steals one glance down at Steve and shakes his head. “I should have listened to Jeff. Should have listened to everyone and stayed the fuck away. This is nothing but a pre-holiday fuck, and I’m so fucking stupid for falling for it.”

“No!” Steve shouts, standing up now too. “I’m not, I mean, I didn’t even know you’d be at the Hideout. I just stopped there because I couldn’t stomach the thought of showing up to my parents' place sober.”

“You think that makes me feel better?” Eddie snaps. “Tell me this: if I wasn’t at the bar tonight, would you have come to find me?”

Steve says silent.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t even know you were still in Hawkins until tonight!”

“Bullshit! I know for a fact Henderson has mentioned seeing me when he comes back for the holidays. Just stop lying!”

“You want me to stop lying?” Steve shouts, stalking over to where Eddie’s stopped pacing. He boxes him in against the new bookshelf he installed in the corner where Wayne’s roll-away mattress used to sit. With his shoes still on, Steve’s got half an inch on Eddie and it’s daunting staring up into those eyes when Steve’s jaw is set in a hardline. “I fucking love you, okay? I have for years! And yeah, I was a fucking coward for leaving, and I could have, should have called in the years since, but I was scared, okay? I was scared you figured out that I’m not worth it and found someone better, just almost everyone else in my stupid fucking life and—“

It’s Eddie’s lips that crash into Steve’s this time. The words die on Steve’s lip, and for a maddening moment, Eddie wonders if he’s broken him beyond repair. That maybe he sould have left him keep spiraling and hit rock button, but then Steve kisses him back and it’s perfect. Well, as close to perfect as they can get considering they’re both angry and exhausted and Jesus h. Christ when did Steve learn to do that with his tongue? It’s headier than the kiss on the couch, leagues better than their awkward teenage makeouts from that autumn. They’ve both grown up, practiced, and found what works, and god damn, does it work.

When they pull apart this time, it's only to catch their breaths before diving back in. Eddie gets his hands on Steve’s shirt, rucking it up and over his head in a tangle of limbs, his own shirt isn’t too far behind, flying through the air with reckless abandon. Steve’s lips find his throat and Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to scream or sink into him further so he does a mix of both, a wanton moan falling from his lips as he pulls Steve closer by his hips and ruts against him.

They’re really moving now, stumbling down the familiar hallway until they’re crashing into Eddie’s unmade bed. Eddie hovers over Steve, admiring his flushed torso and blissed-out face for all of two seconds before Steve pulls him close, whispering want you and need you, and who is Eddie to deny Steve anything, much less mutual pleasure?

They fumble with each other’s jeans, hands shoving and hips lifting and twisting until there’s nothing between them but the thick, musty air. Eddie’s hands trail up and down Steve’s body, his lips and teeth following leaving marks on his favorite moles. He licks a stripe from the dip of his waist to his belly button and back down, and Steve keens under him.

“Please,” Steve whines. “Stop teasing.”

“It’s call foreplay, sweetheart,” Eddie chirps, but ultimately gives in, taking all of Steve in his mouth in one go.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve swears, fisting a hand into the sheets.

Eddie pulls away, eyes wide and full of mischief. “First you say no teasing, then you get mad when I take you? What do you want from me, Stevie?” He cups Steve’s ball, rolling them with enough pleasure to coax another moan from Steve’s lips.

“Just play nice, Eds.”

Eddie hums, then dives back in, slower this time but still just as desperate. He’s missed this almost as much as he’s missed Steve in general. Maybe even more, if he’s honest. There are a lot of dicks in the sea, but none as beautiful and responsive as Steve’s.

Eddie laughs at the cheesy thought, and the vibrations do something to Steve to elicit the most beautiful sound Eddie’s ever heard. He almost laughs again just to hear it again, but before he has a chance, Steve’s shoving him off and flipping them over.

“Wh— what’s going on?”

“M’too close, and I don’t want cum without tasting you first.”

Despite his protests, Steve dives straight in with no preamble and Eddie feels the familiar coil of pressure building in an instant. He’s not going to last, not if Steve keeps doing that with his tongue and Jesus h. Christ he’s never going to live it down if he cums two seconds into getting Steve’s lips on him.

He tries to think of anything else. The disgusting bathrooms at the Hideout he’s going to have to clean tomorrow and the grocery list on the fridge he has to brave the last-minute holiday shoppers for, but nothing seems to work.

Eddie squirms, tries his best to get away from Steve but Steve hand settles on his hips, holding him to the mattress as he continues to move up and down. Eddie sees the stars building in his eyes without even closing his eyes and his hand moves on its own volution, finding Steve’s leaking cock and wrapping his hand around it.

If he’s going to cum embarrassingly fast, so is Steve.

He matches his strokes with Steve’s and they both fill the room with their moans and cries until finally they collapse on each other. Eddie’s hand and chest are sticky with Steve’s cum, and his own is spilling out Steve’s lips, but he doesn’t care. He pulls Steve closer, capturing his lips in a searing, sweaty kiss.

* * * 

Another round and an hour-long make-out session later, they finally get up to clean themselves up. Eddie leaves Steve in his room and disappears into the bathroom. One look at His debauched self in the mirror and Eddie can’t help the smile that breaks out. If someone had told him this was how he’d be spending the early hours of his first Thanksgiving without Wayne, he would have laughed in their face.

When he returns to the room a few minutes later, Steve’s back on the bed, the thin sheet doing little to cover his lower half while his torso lays on full display, light by the warm light seeping through the cracks of Eddie’s blinds as the sun rises outside.

“Hi,” Eddie whispers, suddenly shy as he slips back into bed.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, shuffling across the bed and making himself comfortable on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around Steve’s bare middle before bending the other behind his own head. He looks down at Steve, slowly drinking in the look of peace on his face and the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he starves off sleep they’re both desperate for.

“How long are you in town for?” Eddie asks and mentally curses himself. Fucking Munson, just enjoy the moment!

Steve shifts, chin digging into Eddie’s solar plexus as his sleepy eyes find Eddie’s. “The weekend, at least. Maybe a few extra days.”

“Yeah?”

“I could be persuaded,” he says, reaching up to wrap a lock Eddie’s hair around his finger. “I mean, I am unemployed until January, as you so kindly pointed out.”

A part of Eddie wants to laugh, maybe even apologize for the uninspired jab from hours ago, but there’s something more important he has to do. Even if it kills him. He tries to keep his smile intact when he opens his mouth next, whispering the words as close to Steve’s ear as he can so he can’t deny hearing them.

“I’m not asking you to stay. You have to make that choice on your own, Steve. Start living your life for you.”

Steve’s smile falters, lips twitching, threatening to turn into a pout, but they don’t. Instead, he nods, and Eddie feels the weight of his confession and the fear-strikes anticipation of Steve’s reaction evaporate from his own body.

Steve nods, turning to press a chaste kiss to the same demon that’s been etched there since before Steve became his all those years ago. “I know.”

Eddie hums noncommittally and drags his fingers through Steve’s damp hair, nails lightly stretching at his scalp in the way he knows Steve loves. “So then, what do you want?”

There’s a moment of silence and Eddie watches the seven stages of grief wash over Steve’s face before he opens his mouth again. “I can promise you the weekend to start.”

It’s not the answer Eddie wanted, but it’s the one he was bracing for. He knows better than to expect Steve to make a life-changing decision in their post-coital haze. Wouldn’t want him to even if he gave him the answer he wanted. All he really needs is the truth.

“Boyfriends for the weekend?” Eddie says. The word feels foreign on his tongue and yet just right. “Does that mean I get a front-row seat to watch you ruin your dad’s life when you tell him about the fire academy?”

Steve snorts, hot air tickling Eddie’s love-bite-ridden neck. “I mean, if you want. Might make things worse, though.”

Eddie hums in agreement. The last thing he wants is to make Steve’s day even harder than it’s going to be, no matter how much he’d love to get some face-to-face time with good ol’ Dick Harrington.

“How about this,” Eddie says, turning so they’re nose to nose in bed now. “I’ll be your getaway driver. Drive you over, and when you’re ready to leave, I’ll be waiting around the bend like old times sake. And then…” He trails off, nose bumping against Steve as he peppers his freckled face with kisses and nips. “I’ll bring you back here and we can make good use of this whole boyfriends for the weekend thing.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, breathy and more of a sigh than anything else but the sentiment is there. “That sounds perfect.”

Eddie hums and pulls Steve’s lips between his in a long, lingering kiss before separating. “The only condition is I get to be the one who leaves this time when you have to come back.”

“Not forever, though, right?”

“Well, that’s up to you, babe.”

Steve nods, swooping in to give Eddie his own version of a passionate kiss. “Okay, but then we’re even.”

“Yeah, we’ll be even.”

Eddie watches the smile slowly spread across Steve’s face before he hides in the crook of his neck. Eddie presses his own grin into the mop of sweaty hair on Steve’s head as they lay there, completely intertwined from their head to their toes.

“Boyfriends for the weekend,” Steve mumbles through a yawn before finally letting his eyes flutter shut.

“And then for life,” Eddie whispers, lips pressing into Steve’s forehead before his own eyes give in to the exhaustion coursing through his body.

[nightwingbb]

This scene is from an old DamiJon WIP that I don't think I'll ever finish (Never say never, but I lost my outline and simply do not remember what the plan was for this lmaoo), but I think about it often, so sharing with all you on Tumblr so it doesn't disappear in my Google Docs for all of eternity.

It had been amusing, back then, that Damian didn’t understand the appeal of a wedding. Jon had laughed as Damian complained, then brushed the whole thing off with a Man, I feel bad for your future husband.

“And I for your future wife,” Damian had replied. “The poor woman will have married an idiot.”

The reception had been in full swing at the time, with first-generation Titans swarming the dance floor, Dick and Kory at the floor’s center with grins that stretched as wide as their faces would allow. There was a crowd by the bar, as well, where Jon’s parents were sipping at champagne and talking with a few Justice Leaguers. Bruce and Selina were among that crowd, Bruce nodding absently as he looked over at Dick and Kory, a proud smile pulling at his lips.

Damian and Jon had settled themselves at a vacated dinner table, both too young to drink, and Damian too Damian to join the crowd on the dance floor. They were talking as best they could over the music, bickering the way they always had and scrolling listlessly at their phones.

Jon hesitated, biting at his lip. He had yet to come out to anyone. The idea was daunting and still relatively new— he had only figured out that he needed to come out a month or two prior, and the idea of telling Damian was particularly intimidating. 

It wasn’t that Jon thought he would react badly. Damian had come out back when he was eighteen. Jon had been sixteen and teasing Damian for not having a girlfriend because, again, sixteen, and Damian had simply raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m gay.” 

Damian had been unperturbed— almost flippant— when he had come out. He was almost guaranteed to be just as unbothered by Jon coming out. 

But Damian was also the one who had single handedly sparked Jon’s sudden sexuality crisis. 

Damian, who was arrogant and rude and hot-headed, but one of the most compassionate people that Jon had ever met, with stupid— stunning— green eyes, and full lips that Jon would give anything to—

Jon took a stuttering breath, peering at Damian from across the table. He needed to forget about his stupid crush. Damian was still his best friend, and his best friend had just given him a perfect opportunity to come out to him.

“Maybe,” Jon said tentatively, “I won’t have a future wife.” He took another breath. He’d dipped a toe in. Might as well take the plunge. “Maybe I’ll have a future husband, too.”

At that, Damian whipped his head up from his phone. He blinked at Jon. “You’re—?”

“Bi,” Jon interjected. The word felt weird on his tongue. He swallowed, then said, “I’m not gay. I still like girls, but guys are… good…” 

Guys are good. Rao help him.

Damian blinked again. “Okay,” he said, then turned back to his phone, and that was that.

[teatreeoilll]

|| Movie Night (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

Gojo Satoru swears that watching movies is the best training method, and that's all it is, just training, really. Fluff with slight innuendos.

W/C - 1.3 K

"You think we're what?" Nanami's eyebrow cocked up as soon as you spoke. He shot a helpless look at Haibara who was standing over him, leaning his weight on the hand he placed on the desk, entranced by the praise hidden in your request.

The few months since you've started attending Jujutsu High have passed in the blink of an eye. The curves of the hallways became more familiar as you found your way through the maze with ease, a day-to-day routine carefully forming when you began to befriend your classmates, the solemn-looking Nanami Kento and his enthusiastic friend Haibara Yu, awed by their rapidly increasing strength.

The two of them, together with your upper-classmen whom you've only briefly encountered, always looked like they had noble reasons for being in the Jujutsu world - and although it always felt too rude to ask what they were, your reasons for attending the school had paled in comparison to the things you've imagined.

"I think you're strong," you smile awkwardly, "and I was wondering if you have any advice - to - you know, help me get stronger too."

"I don't think I'm the right person to ask," Nanami shied away from the request, tugging on his uniform to distract himself.

"Don't worry!" Haibara cut into the conversation, the smile plastered on his face melting the awkwardness you felt, "You should talk to our upper-classmen, I heard one of them is the strongest sorcerer they've seen in hundreds of years. I'm sure he'll have something useful to say!"

Hibara's expression changes as soon as you walk out of the classroom with a newly found determination to find the strongest.

"Wait," he furrowed his brows at Nanami, placing his thumb on his chin, "D'you think she thinks I think she's weak?"

"I think you should stop thinking so much."

-

"Weak? Yeah, I can see that." Gojo's careless words earn him an elbow to his ribs from his friend Geto, who smiled sheepishly at you while mumbling; quit teasing the juniors, Satoru.

"He doesn't mean it like that," Geto assures you, but the confidence you felt first approaching them on their break between classes vanished just as fast as it came. You manage to let out a bashful chuckle, suddenly aware of the afternoon sun burning mercilessly at your back.

"But I do," the white-haired sorcerer grumbles back at his friend, pulling off his shades to wipe them on the side of his uniform, "She's weak - but at least she wants to do something about it."

You find yourself so remarkably fixated on the light blue color of his eyes peaking through his pale eyelashes that the next words catch you off guard.

"I'd ask Yaga if I were you," Geto ignores his friend's remarks.

"I wanted to," you admit, "I just - I don't want him to think I'm unsatisfied with his teaching methods."

"It's a shame," Gojo puts his sunglasses back on, adjusting them lightly on the bridge of his nose, "If you're unsatisfied you should just say so - don't you think, Suguru?"

Geto sighs.

"But I'll help," a smile creeps slowly on Gojo's face, "What kind of senior would I be if I turn down a desperate plea for help from my junior?"

You open your mouth to defend yourself - trying to retain a neutral expression after being so brazenly called desperate, but fearing Gojo would take back his newly offered assistance, you only utter a quick thank you before agreeing to meet when classes are over.

Geto watches you walk into the building, and just as the hem of your fluttering skirt disappears into the doorway, he turns to his friend.

"That's very kind of you."

"Don't look so surprised, Suguru." Gojo scoffs dramatically, "I would never turn down a junior in need."

Geto rolled his eyes, to which Gojo finished his sentence, "Especially when they have such pretty eyes."

"And a short skirt," Geto laughs.

"A very short skirt." Gojo agrees.

-

"You didn't have to change," Gojo inspects you through his sunglasses. He isn't disappointed about the way the gym clothes hug your body - but the skirt you wore before already held a special place in his heart.

"Why? Aren't we going to train?" You inquire.

"It's a different kind of training," he states nonchalantly, to which you only stare at him, awaiting the specifics, "We're going to watch a movie."

"A .. movie?"

"So you don't want to train with the strongest.." he pauses, turning around as if to walk away.

"N-no!" You exclaim a little too loud, feeling like a wild animal whose leg got captured in a bear trap, "Let's train."

-

You sit down on the edge of Gojo's bed, gluing the palms of your hands to your knees as you watch him insert a CD into the laptop he put on a chair in front of you. He fiddles with the laptop for a while before turning the movie on, letting the opening credits play while he speaks.

"Now, all you have to do is keep a steady flow of cursed energy while you watch."

"What happens if I don't?" You inquire.

"I'll be here to keep you in check," he crosses his arms, directing his attention to the screen, triggering you to do the same.

The open credits pass to reveal the title, The Green Mile. Oh god, that movie's heartbreaking.

Gojo began to feel as though his mission was failing. He hoped you wouldn't be able to stay in control for long - imagining himself putting a hand on your thigh while guiding you confidently, saying things like Don't worry, I'll show you how it's done. Maybe you'll even call him Senpai. But the steady flow of energy in the room hadn't wavered in the past two and a half hours.

The pressure in the room drops as soon as the film attains its climax. A soft smirk grazes Gojo's lips when he starts to speak, turning to face you, "Don't worry, I'll -"

You feel a tear rolling down your face, distracting your focus. As you wipe your face with your sleeve and regain composure, you notice him staring at you with a glimmer of regret, stretching out a long arm to engulf your shoulders.

"T'was good, for your first training session, that is." He talks through the gut-wrenching music of the ending credits.

"Yeah, a training session.." you roll your eyes, still painfully aware of the arm he hadn't moved off your shoulders, why do they always think they're so smooth?

-

12 years later

You look through the doorway into the TV room, watching Gojo picking out DVDs for Yuji, his new student, to watch.

"You're not really going to make him watch films, are you?" You sit next to him, moving the pile of DVD cases scattered across the floor.

"It's training," Gojo focuses on reading the film titles on the paper sleeves, "You should know that."

"Oh please! You were just trying to get in my pants."

"Me?" Gojo chuckles, "You were the one trying to get in my pants - you're so strong Gojo, please train me Gojo!" He imitates you poorly, but you've gotten used to it throughout the years, "You were so desperate I thought you might cry if I refused."

"Oh then, please remind me who was trying to kiss me after finishing The Notebook."

"I did that for you! You were looking so depraved going on and on about how handsome the guy is, I felt sorry for you."

"Sure you did," you mused.

"He's not your type anyway," Gojo shrugs.

"Oh, what's my type then?" You flash a cocky smile at him as he pushes through the pile of DVDs to get closer to you.

"I don't know, I'd say tall, blue eyes," he pushes his blindfold down to rest on his neck, "handsome," he presses closer to you, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks, "strong," he bites down on your bottom lip softly.

"Gojo-Sensei," a voice cuts through the room, "What are we doing for training today - oh," you push yourself away from Gojo, feeling your face grow red as you watch a blushing pink-haired boy rush away from the TV room, "I'll go train with Fushiguro today!" Yuji exclaims from the hallway.

[iron-strangers]

That's my girl!

aka Din watches you fight with the biggest heart eyes in the galaxy as Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) plays in the background (a WIP of my 3+1 fic)

gif credit @1038276637

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Length: 690+ words

Tags: Mand'alor Din Djarin, Swearing, Kid Fic

A/N: Written in Expanding Clan Mudhorn universe. Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

“I challenge you for the Mand’alor’s hand in marriage.”

The lively chatters around the market shifts into a quiet whispers when a challenger appears from the crowd. She has her full armor on, holding her blaster up for everyone to see. Shrugging, you took your squirming fourteen-months toddler from his birikad (baby harness) into his buir’s (father’s) arms before walking into the fight. Aranar laughs, clapping his chubby hands and pointing at you. “Bu-ee! Look, momma!”

“Yes, Ar’ika, momma’s gonna kick some s-h-e-b (ass), so we have to stand aside and let her do her thing, okay?” Din sighs, bouncing the boundless energy out of his toddler, getting a ‘Kay! and a grin from his son who’s currently munching happily on his small portion of uj cake, with that sweet tooth no one will ever doubt that he truly his momma’s son. Aranar is getting a lot of ‘copikla’ (cute) from every passer-by, enthralled by his mop of dark curly hair and his adorable toothy smile.

“I accept your challenge,” you smile, turning your saber on. The snap-hiss of lightsaber ignition rips through the air and Aranar whoops. “Bu-ee! Pu-pel!”

“Yes, good job Ar’ika! Momma’s laser sword is purple!”

“How many time should I tell you it’s called lightsaber.” Kryze sighs, holding her head in her hand. She insisted to come during their visit to the newly opened Sundari Market for this exact reason, security of the Ven’alor Mand’alor. “You married a jedi, osik (shit), you have two jet’ika.”

“Osik!” Aranar parrots, laughing without caring how his buir is going through all five stages of grief in three seconds. “Kryze! I swear to the Manda-”

Din is cut-off by the sound of lightsaber hitting beskar. You deflect blaster bolts with the force and hits the challenger on her pauldron. You swipe your saber low, aiming for her leg. She jumps and brings her other hand up, shooting grappling hooks out of her vambrace, straining you. You groan as you fight against the ropes until it budges a little, enough for you to slash it with your saber. You pull on the leftover rope, sending the challenger towards you and you punch her in the middle of the T-Visor of her helmet, sending her to the ground with a loud crack.

“That’s my girl!” Din cheers, earning snickers and adoration from the passer-by. Flustered behind his helmet, he nuzzles Aranar’s soft curls, pointing and narrating the fight to the baby. “That’s your momma, ad’ika. Isn’t she the best? Buir and momma will teach you just how to fight like that when you’re ready, ner ka’ra (my star). You’ll be unstoppable.” Din can't take his eyes off of his riduur (wife). You fight with grace, your steps calculated and you never miss your attack. Every hissing sound of lightsaber meeting beskar only adds to his love and adoration.

She shoots another round of blaster bolts and you deflect them all to the ground with the force, careful not to let stray bullets hit the crowd. You stalk over her, the tip of your saber dragging on the ground. You flick your hand and her blaster flies from her hand, crumpling in the air when you curl your hand into a fist and brings the tip of your saber up to her neck, so close to her pulse point. 

“Yield,” you command. She stutters, forfeiting the fight and scurrying back to the crowd.

“Anyone else want to challenge our clan?” Your question is met by silence and you smile, turning the saber off. Addressing the crowd to go back to their activity as the purple light disappear into the hilt of your lightsaber. 

Aranar lights up when he sees you, making a grabby hand and asking you for uppies. Smiling, you pepper the laughing boy’s cheeks with kisses and lift him up to your shoulder. Din leans his helmeted forehead to yours and leads his family away from the crowd.

“Hey, Kryze made Ar’ika swore back then.”

“By the force- Kryze!” 

Yeah, that’s my girl, Din smiles adoringly behind his helmet, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together before you can go smack some sense into Kryze.

-

[probablyreadinsmut]

This idea was inspired by the lovely @joelmillerisapunk thank you so much for tagging my two Joel fics on your post 💜

I only just started my tumblr at the end of November, with the intention of just being a silent reposter but I started getting ideas and I wanted to put them down into words, now I feel like I've found my community here and I get to interact with some truly talented and amazing people. Thank you to every single one of you and my followers 💜

This is a mix of prompts, mini fics, drabbles, one shots and ongoing series'.

Most of them are smut (Quelle surprise the clue is in the username) but all of them are absolutely incredible reads and some of my favourite fics this month.

Joel Miller

Never made it as a wise man - @almostempty

Joel Miller X Reader

Summary: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

So much to lose - @auteurdelabre  

Joel Miller X Reader

Summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.note: Featuring Dark!Joel 

Dirty old man - @mssalo

Joel Miller X F!reader 

Summary: You were assigned as Joel Miller’s caretaker, but he’s a perverted old man who just can’t keep his hands off you. And the truth is, you don’t mind one bit—in fact, you want more.

PTOLEMAEA - @lovely-vamp-princess

Cryptid!Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Trails of blood have been appearing around Jackson that lead to gruesome crime scenes. The bodies only seem to appear in the middle of the night after Joel mysteriously disappears for hours at a time.  You aren’t the only one with growing suspicions about the surly older man.

Bad Santa - @baronessvonglitter

sleazy mall Santa!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

The last piece of us - @absurdthirst

Joel Miller X F!reader

Summary: When the world ends that night, Joel has to make a choice between you and his daughter. You encouraged him to save Sarah and twenty years later, he finds out that you survived that night when he sees you in Jackson.  

Smooth Operator - @penascigarette

Joel Miller x f!phone sex worker

summary: you accidentally send a picture of yourself to joel which results in a video call

It feels like hope - @itwasntimethatdidit40

Summary:Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz - @joelmillerisapunk

Joel Miller x reader 

Summary: The enemies to lovers/one bed/forced close proximity/light grumpy x sunshine/patrol partner fic no one asked for.

Somewhere only we know - @josephquinnswhore

Joel Miller X Female Reader

summary: joel has been the only constant in your life since you’ve been at Jackson. But you don’t know if you deserve him despite his persistent efforts. 

Javier Peña

Neighbors - @gothcsz

Javier peña x f!reader

Summary: what it's like living next door to javier peña. Explicit. Minors DNI. 

Unscripted desire - @gothcsz

Javier peña x f!reader

summary: you’re a camerawoman that shoots pornos. javier peña is the pornstar you can’t stand. why is it that you’re always so affected by him? Explicit. Minors DNI.

Office hours - @itwasntimethatdidit40  

modern!Javier Peña x f!reader 

Summary: You should concentrate on work. But you can't do that with the charming bastard you share the office with in front of you. Why not find a more fun way to spend your office hours?

Like a fever - @pedgito

Javier Pena x reader

summary: this is my own entry for the summer lovin' challenge, somehow torturing myself further by writing a fic amongst all my other wips and helping organize this challenge. there's sweaty javi p and office sex, that's all you need to know.

Nobody wants to be alone on Christmas- @morallyinept  

Javier Peña X F!reader

Summary: You discover your boss Javi will be spending the night alone, working on the cartel case on Christmas Eve, so you extend a kind offer for him to join you for some Christmas dinner. 

Christmas in the city - @punkshort

Javier Peña x f!reader 

Summary: As if your holiday season couldn't get any worse, you get lost on your way to the first day of your new job. Lucky for you, a handsome and flirty stranger finds you on the verge of tears and walks you to your office building, turning your day around instantly.

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officer - @javierpena-inatacvest

Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader

Summary: After Javi brings home a pair of handcuffs from work, your plans for the night start to look very different. 

Lunch break - @joelmillerisapunk  

Javier Peña x coworker f!reader  

Summary: Javi edges you at work   

Din Djarin

Vices - @baronessvonglitter  

Din Djarin x OFC x bi! f!Reader x OMC 

Summary: You're not one to be shy of your vices, but a night with a mysterious woman has you and your work partner Din chasing new highs.

I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine - @dindjarindiaries

Din Djarin X Reader 

Shadows - @burntheedges

Din Djarin x F!reader

summary: you were pretty sure the ship was haunted.

Ezra:

The Pit - @morallyinept

Ezra X F!Reader

Summary: Ezra and you stumble into an ominous pit on a prospecting mission for coveted azure diamonds on the Narillan moon, and find more than you bargain for.

Frankie

All the things we never said - @javierpena-inatacvest

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: You and Frankie Morales have been best friends since the 6th grade. You swore to each other that there would never come a day where life would be better without the other one in it. But as you grow up, you've learned the hard way that sometimes, just friendship isn't enough.

Marcus Pike:

The gift - @morallyinept

Husband!MarcusPike x Wife!Reader

Summary: Marcus buys you a naughty Christmas gift that you wear to his parents' Christmas lunch, and you both find it hard to stay composed at the dinner table.

Dieter Bravo

Sleezy Santa - @morallyinept  

Sleazy!Dieter Bravo x Menace F!Reader 

Summary: Have you been naughty or nice? Sleazy Santa Dieter will find out... Come sit on his knee, baby, and tell Santa what you really want for Christmas. If you've been good, he might just give it to you. T'is the season to be sleazy...

Bright lights - @moonlitbirdie (only on AO3, you'll need an account)

Dieter Bravo x NDAfab!Reader

Marcus Acacius

III - @gothcsz

Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader x Lucius Verus Aurelius

Summary: Lucius Aurelius, the stepson of wealthy and renowned architect Marcus Acacius, falls in love with you, Marcus's personal assistant. However, you're already in the midst of a tangled affair with his stepfather. 

Mutli fandom: 

I gave you my heart - @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader x Lucien de Leon

Summary: You and Dieter attend his parents annual Christmas party where you unexpectedly run into your ex, Lucien de Leon. As events (and drama) unfold, you're soon wondering if you are making the right choice about your future. 

Paris, Texas - @almostempty  

joel miller x javier peña x f!reader

Summary: 2 Texans, 1 Lady 🎀 The joel x javi x reader threesome

[kayleighwinchester]

Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't: I

((Alright, here we go! The start of a slightly bigger project - but still for @artyandink's Jensen-a-Thon! I debated on the best way to post this, whether it should be in parts or all in one, and I've decided to do parts. I remember when I was on Tumblr last, the 'five things you do/one you don't' format was super popular, so here's my take on that! This, again, is in the same general -verse as Downpour, Rocks and Rom Coms, and Long Story! As always, enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!)) Dean Winchester was a mystery. 

It was one you were slowly unraveling bit by bit, visit by visit; he would climb in your window every month or so, stay a few days, and disappear again by the end of the week – but slowly, you were learning about him, about who he was, beyond the charismatic smile and easy, confident attitude.

.*

The first thing you learned – really learned, beyond the charisma and charm – about Dean came after an evening with a few too many glasses of wine. You’d gotten home from your last class of the day before summer break to find Dean rummaging through your fridge, and he’d very helpfully informed you that your A/C was out. As the day drew into evening, and the temperature outside began to drop a few degrees, you’d settled in on the grass in the back yard with a bottle of wine to enjoy the breeze rather than suffer indoors, waiting for the house to cool down to a tolerable temperature.

“I don’t think I could do it,” He said, leaning back on one elbow. “The whole college thing. Think I’d go nuts.” You got the distinct impression, both from his tone, and the wry, humorless smirk that flashed across his lips, that he had far more colorful language for what he’d do, but opted to go the more diplomatic route, if only for your sake. He took a drink of his wine, glancing down at the glass with a pensive expression. Admittedly, he didn’t seem like a wine kind of guy – whenever he’d come bearing alcohol, it was always beer or hard liquor. Nonetheless, he took to it with relative grace – though not without a decent amount of teasing thrown your way, first.

“What’d’you mean?” You glanced his way, his thoughtful expression a welcome distraction from the relatively boring sight of your backyard. 

“Not really the brains of my family, y’know? That’s Sammy.” He didn’t elaborate on who Sammy was, and with how often he clammed up the moment his family was mentioned, you opted not to ask. “I was always better at the other stuff.” He’d never been this upfront about his past; maybe it was the alcohol loosening his tongue. Maybe he just trusted you a bit more now, after a year of – well, whatever it was you two were doing. “I mean, one of the earliest memories I got with my Dad is shootin’ beer bottles off a fence.”

“Were you any good?” You asked, not sure if he was being entirely serious - he gave a wry grin, glancing your way. 

“Got every one of ‘em.” He said proudly, but you could see that pride tempered with just a bit of something else that you couldn’t quite place – something you weren’t sure you liked. He glanced back down into his glass, staring at the wine once more. “I’m good at that kind’a stuff, y’know? Not –...” He waved a hand back toward your bedroom window – you knew he was aiming for your desk, your textbooks. 

You didn’t entirely understand what ‘that kind’a stuff’ entailed; the shooting, sure, but that seemed like a relatively self-contained skill. Still, it didn’t seem like he particularly wanted that part of the conversation to continue, and you could see the tension you hadn’t even realized had built up in his shoulders slowly ease as you offered, 

“You know I’ve never even held a gun?”

It was like prompting a kid to talk about their favorite TV show. He hesitated for a moment, green eyes searching yours, as if gauging if you were actually interested, or simply trying to change the subject. Apparently, he was satisfied with what he saw – he launched into what you were sure was the most detailed and enthusiastic explanation of the basics of firearms and firearm safety he could possibly give, one that you, even with your lack of knowledge, could easily follow – even carefully retrieving the silver pistol from the back of his waistband. 

That – his simple, straightforward explanation, in and of itself, was a talent – breaking something down to such bare-bones basics that anyone could understand. It was a skill that not everyone had – you’d learned as much very quickly in your first two years of college. He made it seem easy. You’d seen it already, the first time you’d asked him for help with your car – he’d absently explained what he was doing as he did it, why it was making that weird-ass fucking noise – but this was another beast entirely. 

He caught your eye, and, admittedly, you hadn’t even realized you’d been staring at him. “What?” He asked, the beginnings of a sheepish smile curling onto his lips. 

“Nothing.” You said quickly, eyes shifting down to the gun in his lap, taking in the engraved silver and the mother-of-pearl grips, all shimmering just ever so slightly in the fading evening light. “Just –... You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen Dean smile – genuinely smile – so wide, or his cheeks flush so red.

[bookqueenrules]

Leaked Daryl Dixson 2x06 Script

SOO.... The last five pages of DD season 2 are on Tumblr. I don't want to reblog because I am not sure how poster would respond to TD things. I have no way to know if is legit, but it sure sounds like it!

marysuewho posted them.

Turn back now if you don't want to know.

So, the first page is the one I posted a couple of months ago but not blurred.

Here is the gist:

Daryl and Carol are separated but both are inhaling a poisonous gas that is making them hallucinate. Carol sees Sophia. Cordon sees his brother. Daryl sees Isabelle who has obviously just died. She encourages Daryl to "bet on hope" and to not give up. Before Isabelle fades into a swarm of fireflies in the distance(yes, it actually says that!), Daryl says to Isabelle, "If you see Merle or Beth or Glenn- you tell 'em I did my best?"

Isabelle nods.

Daryl kills two people named Angus and Fiona and takes their masks for he and Carol. Codron disappears back into the tunnel.

Carol and Daryl say, "Let's go home", and they drive off.

My takeaways are this:

Based on how they treat each other, there is NO Carly romance happening.(Not that I thought for a moment there would be.)

As we thought, there will be no Daryl/Isabelle. She becomes just another person he couldn't save. I imagine Laurent lives but stays to help lead France to a better future, but that is not on these pages.

Unfortunately, it is obvious that Daryl still thinks Beth is dead. For a while now, I have suspected that while there might be a Coda at the end of the season or some other way they reveal to the audience that Beth may be alive, Daryl and Carol will still be clueless.

I hope they do reveal her to the audience in some way to build excitement for season 3!

[strniohoeee]

Broken

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is depressed, and Matt takes notice to her behavior. Matt being the good friend he is he tries to get her out of her funk, but will it work?🫂

Warnings⚠️: None just mentions of depression. This was a request but Tumblrs being a munch and not letting me add it

Song for the imagine: hope ur ok- Olivia Rodrigo

But, God, I hope that you’re happier today

Cause I love you

And I hope that you’re okay

It’s been getting worse. I hate this feeling, this darkness that consumes me. I wanted nothing more than to feel okay. I hate the way my depression swallowed me whole and made me want to disappear from the face of the earth.

I just wanted to feel okay, I wanted to feel normal and not drained. I know my friends were getting annoyed with me. I would slip into these phases of not wanting to talk to them, see them, go out with them. I mean I could barely get out of my bed to do anything. Often skipping meals and not drinking water. I would just sleep all fucking day and cry when I was awake.

I was fortunate enough to be an influencer, so I didn’t have to worry about actually getting up to work. I posted YouTube drafts and TikTok drafts. It worked for a while, but people started to catch on, and were wondering where I went. I couldn’t even be honest and come out and say I was so depressed I couldn’t even sit up in my bed.

The one person who noticed the fastest was Matt. Randomly one day he started texting me wondering how I was doing, what I was doing, if I wanted to hang out with him and his brothers, if I wanted to join them for dinner, if I wanted to film a video with them. I appreciated it truly, but I also kept lying to him. Telling him that I was busy or I had plans, or I was filming. I could not allow anyone to see me this way. I mean I didn’t even want to see myself this way…..

Matt had put me in a groupchat with Chris and Nick, and honestly it was making me feel better. They kept my mind off of things by constantly making me laugh. I mean they would text from 10AM till 2AM every single day.

The blue eyed freaks🧿🧿

-Y/N can you pleaseeeeee come hang out with us we haven’t seen you in like two months- Chris

-Idkkkk -me

-plzzzzz like you never hangout with us anymore-Nick

-yeah I’ve just been busy-me

-busy??? Yeah right not busy enough to not hang out with us- Chris

-hey if she doesn’t want to hangout don’t force her, but we do miss you and would love to see you-Matt

-thanks Matt🖤-me

-booooo boring come over now, or I’ll come pick you up-Chris

-you can’t even drive Chris-me

-okay….ill get matt to drive me to come pick you up-Chris

-fineeeeee okay fine I’ll be over in a hour-me

-FUCKKKKK FINALLY OMG YES- Chris

-see yall soon<3-me

I had gotten up and decided to shower, washing my hair and just really try to clear my mind, and enjoy the fact that I’m getting to see my friends again. I hadn’t been out of my house in a good month, and this was giving me major anxiety.

I felt like once they’d see me they would know I haven’t been okay, and that’s something that scared me. I had to seem okay. I was never the one who broke down… ever.

I hadn’t finished getting ready. At first I wanted to put on some makeup to hide my dark eyes, but I decided against it because I really wasn’t in the mood. I headed out, and drove to the triplets house. When I got there Matt texted me letting me know that the door was unlocked and to meet them in his room.

I let myself in and walked to Matt’s room.

“Y/N” Chris yelled coming over and hugging me

“Hi guys” I said laughing

“She’s aliveeee” Nick said hugging me

“How have you guys been?” I asked plopping myself down on Matt’s bed with them

“We’ve been good, just filming honestly” Matt said

“Nice that’s always fun” I said

“I love it so much truly, but how have you been?” Nick asked

“I’ve been good, you know. Just uhhh been busy” I said lying straight through my teeth

“Nice, what have you been doing” Matt asked

“Oh you know just filming and editing and just going out with some of my other friends” I said

“I love your hair color by the way, when did you dye it red?” Chris asked me

“Oh like two months ago I need to get my roots done actually” I said running my hands through my hair

“Two months ago? I thought this was recent all your TikTok’s and YouTube videos your hair was black” Matt said looking at me suspiciously

“Oh uhhh” was all I could manage because I knew Matt was onto me

“Okay anyways I’m hungry” Chris said breaking the awkwardness

“Me too” Nick said

“McDonald’s?” Chris asked

“Fuck yes” Matt responded

“Okay Matt can you pick it up for us” Chris said pleading

“Uhhh I guess i have too since yall can’t drive” he said rolling his eyes

“I can drive” I said smiling

“Yayyyy this is why I love you” Chris said

“I’ll mobile order it so it’s less stressful” Nick said

They all put in their orders, and they handed the phone to me. My anxiety making me nauseous and not really in the mood to eat

“Oh I don’t think I’m going to get anything” I said

“WHAT? McDonald’s is your favorite” Nick said

“Uhh yeah I’m just not in the mood” I said

“Do you want something else?” Matt asked

“No I’m not hungry” I said looking at him

Matt nodded before taking the phone, messing with it f and then handing it to Nick.

“Alright let’s head out” I said

“Nick and I want to stay back y’all can go though” Chris said

“Sneaky fucks” Matt said laughing

Matt and I had gotten into my car heading over to the McDonalds

“What’s really going on?” Matt asked

“What do you mean?” I asked glancing over at him

“I know you’re not okay” he said looking at me

“Matt I’m fine” I said

“No you’re not. Your eyes…..I can tell that you’re sad” he said

“I’m just tired is all” I said swallowing thickly

“Y/N be honest…are you okay?” He asked reading my face for an answer

My lip quivered, and a lump formed in my throat. Nobody has asked me if I was okay.

“No” I whispered out in a croak

“Talk to me” he said sitting up

“I just don't know. I’ve been so depressed lately. I haven’t been able to get out of my bed. I’ve just been posting drafts because I can’t even get up to film. I can’t even get up to drink or eat anything. I miss my parents, I miss home and I just feel so alone. You were the first person to text me, and you have helped me a lot actually. You inviting me over was the first thing I have done in a month” I said letting a tear fall

“I’m so sorry you feel that way. I love you so fucking much, and I knew something was wrong that’s why I reached out. I care for you so much, and I don’t want you to struggle alone. I’m here for you” he said looking at me with saddened eyes

“I appreciate it Matt truly. You’re amazing” I said looking over at him and smiling weakly

“Never allow yourself to struggle alone okay. Please reach out to me or Nick or even Chris as crazy as that seems. We will always be here for you….always” he said

“I will. I just was fighting with myself for so long I couldn’t reach out for help” I said wiping my tears

“And that’s okay. No ones pressuring you to reach out, but know that the option is there. I would never turn you away. You know I’ll come flying to you in a heartbeat” he said nudging my shoulder

“I know Matt. I love you so much thank you for being here for me” I said nudging him back

“Also I got you your favorite from McDonald’s. I’m making sure you eat. I can tell you haven’t eaten. I can see it in your face” he said

“Thank you Matt what would I do without you” I said smiling at him

“I’m not sure actually” he said

“Don’t get too cocky” I said pointing my finger at him

We laughed, and I pulled up to the drive thru. We got our food, and we headed back home

We got back to their house, and started to eat in the kitchen. Laughing and catching up. Matt occasionally looking over at me, giving me reassuring smiles and glances.

I spent the night at their house, and I slept in Matt’s room. We watched my favorite childhood movies as he kept asking me if I was okay, and taking small glances at me.

Eventually we ended up falling asleep.

What would I do without Matt?

The End

This was a request, but Tumblr is actually being a dickrider so it wasn’t letting me put it with my story. But anywho I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[hauntedhokage]

PART 15: Proposals pt 2

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY:  The boys plan to ask you to move in with them, only to be put slightly off course when their girlfriend isn’t in touch like usual.

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Their reporter had been radio silent for too long. It’d been twelve hours with no texts, no calls, nothing. It’s when you’re not on the morning news, an exhausted looking Ayame covering the front desk in place of the woman who was supposed to be the morning anchor for the next month, that they feel true concern. Ayame never did mornings well when she was called in as a backup, could barely make it through when she was scheduled to be morning anchor, so it was obvious that she wasn’t intended to be there and was replacing the bright-eyed and bushy tailed morning anchor that they adored so much. Where had you been? Why didn’t you tell them about a change in the schedule? 

“What do you think? Kidnapped?”

“Why do you always go for the worst case?” Katsuki asks, checking his phone again only to frown when the result remains the same. “My bet is sick. You said she’s awful when she’s sick.”

“A true baby, but she would’ve called and asked to be babied back to health.”

“So she’s like you.”

He ignores the tongue stuck out at him and leans back in his seat at the dining table, considering the options. If you had been kidnapped, Eijirou would’ve gotten a ransom letter or a call from your family or the news station regarding the ransom. That was how things worked. But he’s sure you’re fine, you were an adult and possibly just busy or needing space. But you would’ve communicated that, you always did. The pit in his stomach grew with every minute he sat wondering what had happened or where you had disappeared to, making his stomach hurt with the anxious energy he had no outlet for. His outlet was also an anxious mess, so there was no true outlet until they knew what had happened.

You were an adult, but you were also a civilian who couldn’t throw a punch to save your life and was entirely too trusting of people on the street. Kidnapping or other bodily harm unfortunately was a possibility, especially with how popular you were across the country. 

The jingling of car keys breaks his focus, his eyes moving to where Eijirou is pulling on his jacket with car keys in hand. He never did like waiting when it came to you, so Kastuki can’t be surprised to see that he’d decided to just go look for himself. 

“Going to check her place?”

“Gonna kick the door in by politely putting the key in the lock and gently opening the door.”

“Want backup?”

“Just in case.”

He doesn’t bother with a shirt, only grabs his own jacket to pull on over his tank top as he slides into the closest pair of shoes. They were just going to your apartment to check on you, he didn’t need to look overly presentable. 

“Oh, tits out today?”

“Shut up and lock the door, simp.”

Eijirou is true to his plan of gently opening the door, apparently not wanting to disrupt a potential scene or startle you if you were just home resting. There isn’t any sign of a struggle, and the two slide out of their shoes and jackets to take a look around. Coffee mug sitting on the table, half full of tea that was old based on how cold the mug was, a blanket haphazardly tossed over the back of the couch. 

“Hey baby?” You greet from the hallway, a confused look on your face as you lean against the wall. You looked like shit, but neither would say that out loud, they didn’t have a death wish. “I guess babies? What’re you doing here?”

“Checking on you. We don’t like it when you go quiet.”

You look more confused at that, but any argument is cut off by the worst cough Katsuki has heard in his life. It sounded painful, full of phlegm and other gross shit, and the wheeze you let out when you’re done has them both cringing. “Let’s get you back to bed. Tea?”

“I was gonna make soup.”

“I’ll do that,” Katsuki cuts in patting Eijirou’s back as he passes to get to the kitchen. “You need rest, and should’ve called if you were this bad.”

“It wasn’t until today, promise.”

He doesn’t believe that, but this wasn’t the time to argue with you further since Eijirou was shuffling you to your bedroom to go lay down. 

“You had us so worried, don’t ever do that again.” His scolding has you a bit confused, because you swear you sent a text to the group chat letting them know you were sick and going to quarantine yourself. 

“I sent a text,” you mumble, looking up at Eijirou as his features soften. “I knew you’d get worried, so I texted the chat.”

“Baby, you probably didn’t hit send. We didn’t get anything, otherwise we would’ve been here yesterday.”

Oh. That was unfortunate that the message hadn't been sent to them, but there was no taking it back and they showed up anyway. You didn’t want to risk getting them sick, it wasn’t easy fighting crime healthy - but to try and do it while sick? You didn’t want to do that to them. 

“I didn’t want you guys to get sick. Wanted to quarantine myself.”

“Not allowed. I promised to take care of you forever and ever, that includes your gross ass cough and warm yet still clammy skin.”

“Even the snot?”

“Unfortunately that too. But I think this might be a good time to talk about you moving in with us baby.”  

You only nod as you get back into bed, prompting him to continue with a wave of your hand before adjusting the covers. It made sense, you’d been with Eijirou forever, and he’d been with Katsuki forever, and you wanted to be with Katsuki for the same forever that you’d be with Eijirou. Being together in a living space made the most sense, especially since you were there almost six nights a week these days. 

“He and I talked about it last week and thought it made the most sense to make the move now since our leases are expiring. Three bedrooms so we all have a personal space.”

“That sounds nice,” you murmur with a yawn as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Sorry.”

“All good, sleepyhead. I don’t think he’s making anything fancy so you should have soup soon and then you should rest. Need anything from the store?”

“Think I need more juice? Maybe tea?”

“You got it. Be back in like half an hour.” 

You try to dodge the kiss on your lips, but he’s able to predict your move and meets you there to steal the kiss he wanted. The frown on your face is met with a grin before you receive a kiss to your nose then your forehead and then he’s heading out the door as Katsuki comes with your soup. 

“Just canned shit, but he’ll get what I need for good soup. Also brought you more water.”

He was a provider, and extremely extra about it. Your thanks is waved off with a reminder that it was his job, which only has you shaking your head as you stir the soup a bit before taking your first bite. He definitely added a bit of seasoning, since this didn’t taste like canned shit at all and actually tasted like a true meal. 

“How’d you season it?”

“That’s a secret. Eat your soup while I tidy up your kitchen.” A kiss to your forehead is what you’re left with, but he does double back to grab a tissue and wipe at your nose. “This the kind with lotion?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Have more boxes?”

“Under the bathroom sink. Two or three which should be more than enough.”

“Yeah, should be good.” He says with a nod, wiping at your nose one last time before tossing it in your little trash bin that sat by your bed. “Eat, please. I’ll be back in a few.”

He’s true to his word and returns just as you finish the soup, only to take the bowl from your hands so he could wash it quickly. You’re left staring at the doorway that he’d disappeared through, in mild disbelief at just how deep being the provider ran through the blonde. Did he even think about it, or was this just how he was programmed from birth? You’re tempted to ask but you know it’ll just make him feel weird about feeling seen like that, so you keep the thought to yourself when you hear the floor creak in the hallway that was the precursor to him reappearing in front of you.  

“Hey, pookie bear,” you greet with a weak smile, earning a grimace and grunt from the blonde as he steps more into the room. Whether it was the nickname or the sound of your voice getting worse, you weren’t sure, but it was kinda cute to see him cringe like that. He was very cute. 

“You look pitiful,” he comments, sitting down beside you on your bed and carefully pulling you into his side. “Still cute though.”

“I know,” you mumble, resting your head on his shoulder and smiling when you feel him kiss the top of your head. “Thanks for the soup, Katsuki. And for the arm porn.”

“No thanks needed,” he whispers, letting you push your hand into his and giving a gentle squeeze. “Get some rest, alright?”

“You really think I’m cute like this?”

“Beautiful,” he corrects, helping you shuffle back into laying down. “But you’ve gotta rest your voice. We’re not goin’ anywhere until you’re feeling better.”

“No?”

“Your boyfriends aren’t gonna leave you hangin’.” He’s settling more into your mattress, bringing you closer to his side as he does, and you let your eyes close as you bask in the fact that he called himself your boyfriend. 

You were truly official now; Eijirou settling in on your other side fifteen minutes later further cementing that you’d officially had two boyfriends, and Eijirou had gotten exactly what he’d wanted - his two babygirls on the same page and liking each other as much as he liked them.