#one is a can of coke I left in the fridge and the other is a project bag with a crochet thing I am making for the shop and my crochet hooks

[obstinatecondolement]

Very cleverly left two things at work today ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part two | r.c

summary:

"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2k

author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"

A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.

“You want another drink?”

Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.

You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”

“Sure.”

Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”

“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”

“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”

You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.

“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”

“Hey!”

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”

“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”

“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”

Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.

“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”

“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”

You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.

“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”

You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.

“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”

Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”

Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I hate it when they team up like this.”

“Shut up and get your beer.”

The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.

Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”

“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.

“Do you need me to drop you off too?”

You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.

“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”

Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.

Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce’s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.

“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.

“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”

Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”

“My what?”

“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”

You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”

He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”

“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.

“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”

“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”

You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.

“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”

He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.

“What if… We fucked?”

“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.

“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.

“Seriously Rafe?”

“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”

You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.

There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.

You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”

“Not when it comes to sex!”

“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”

Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.

“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”

He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.

“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”

“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”

“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”

Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.

“Shut up.”

Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.

There was no going on back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7

[chloe-skywalker]

Moving - Billy Hargrove

Billy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Stranger Things

Word count:1,190

Summary: Joyce waiting to move you, Jonathan, Will and El till Billy’s better for your sake. Billy decides to come with and live with you in California. But first he has to ask Joyce.

Authors Note: I love this. 

Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“When are we going to Calfironia?” Jonathan asked his mom wondering how much more time they had left with their friends.

“Soon.” Joyce answered as they continued to eat.

“When is soon? I want to know when I have to say goodbye to the party?” Will pleaded for more of an exact answer.

“We aren’t going till Billy’s better and can leave the hospital.” Joyce told her boys.

“For Y/n’s sake?” Jonathan hoped they wouldn’t leave till Billy was better. For his sister's emotional health most of all. She wouldn’t be able to handle leaving Billy in his current state. The Mall accident was bad all around but Billy got the worst of it, but at least he was alive.

“Yes. For Y/n’s sake. Your sister loves Billy and I’ve seen his love for her.” Joyce nodded in confirmation. What happened to Billy affected him and her daughter the most. Joyce knows for a fact they love each other and seeing him almost die killed Y/n. She couldn’t take her away with Billy still in the hospital.

“I hope he heals fast. I hate seeing her so distraught.” Will nodded in agreement, it was hard seeing his badass sister so broken.

“We all do.” Jonathan reached over and squeezed his shoulder. Billy had treated a lot of them horribly but no one deserved what he did to save El.

^     ^     ^

“Hey” Y/n greeted Billy as she entered his hospital room. She never would’ve left but she wasn’t allowed to stay once visiting hours were over. So Y/n comes back every morning.

“Hey. Did you eat?” Billy questions, he noticed she had gotten thinner and it worried him.

“Yes, I ate.” she nodded, giving him a sarcastic smile, knowing he means well. Y/n to noticed her weight loss like she’s sure he did. But she was still eating, it must be stress.

“Just making sure you're still taking care of yourself.” Billy reached out to grab her hand in his.

“Your my priority right now.” Y/n looked into his eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I can’t be your priority if you end up sick and in the hospital right next to me.” Billy points out with a stern look in his eyes even though he wasn’t angry he’s just worried.

“What’d the doctor say?” Y/n asked changing the subject and hoping the doctor said he’s improving.

“That I can leave and be discharged in two days.” Billy smiled at her pulling her with enough force that she leaned on top of him.

“Thank god.” Y/n smiled, hugging him tightly.

^     ^     ^

“When are you moving?” Billy asked as they sat on her bed in Y/n’s room surrounded by boxes.

“Soon.” Y/n looked down, sadness evident in her demeanor. Leaving Hawkins wasn’t the hard part that made her sad, but leaving Billy? That did. “Mom says we’ll leave in the next couple days.”

The two stayed silent for a while not knowing what to say.

“Hey I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?” After a while Billy spoke up having an idea but he needed to leave the room and if it didn’t go as planned he didn’t want Y/n any more hurt than she already was.

“A coke please.” y/n gives him a tight smile in thanks but still in a sad mood.

Billy walked down the hall into the kitchen and saw Misses Byers just who he was looking for.

“Hi Billy.” Joyce greeted upon seeing him come out of the hallway.

“Hey Joyce.” Billy greeted back as he went to the fridge and grabbed himself and Y/n;s drinks before closing the fridge, turning around and asking. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” Joyce nodds pointing to the table so they both could sit.

“Thanks for staying till I was healed. It means everything to me to have had y/n here for it.” Billy started off by thanking her, he knew they didn’t have to wait but they did and he appreciated it.

“Of course, Billy.” Joyce sent him a smile, it also felt kinda good and odd to hear him thank you. That's not something Billy’s known for. She also knew how hard it must be for him to talk to her like this. With his home life she knows he’s not comfortable around most adult’s.

“I know you’re all moving to California soon. I’m from there and I’ve missed it since the moment I was forced to leave. I don’t want to be seperated from Y/n.” Y/n was the only thing he liked about his time in Hawkins. He was glad in a way he had moved to Hawkins, he met y/n because of it and he wouldn’t have otherwise. “Would you mind if I come with you guys?” he asked nervously.

“Billy you're welcome to join us, and I think it would also be the best decision for you and y/n’s emotional and mental well beginnings.” Joyce smiled warmly at the young man that was going to fight to stay with her daughter. She couldn’t ask for better for her daughter. “You can stay with us as well. Till you find a job and get a place of your own.”

BIlly let out a shocked but relieved breath. Looking Joyce in the eye’s. He was grateful to her. “Thank you, Joyce.”

Joyce waved him off. “You're welcome, and thank you Billy. For the joy and happiness you bring my daughter.”

With the conversation done Billy headed back to Y/n’s room with their drinks.

“Took ya awhile. Thank you.” Y/n smiled, thanking and teasing him. She grabbed her coke, taking a sip all the while Billy walked around the bed to sit across from Y/n on it.

“No problem.” Billy wanted to tell her to badly to wait any longer. “I do have some news.”

“What's up?” Y/n sat up fully giving him all her attention.

“I talked to your mom just now.” he told her as they faced each other.

“Okay?” Y/n stretched out, raising a brow. ‘He talked to my mom?’ she thought, ‘what about?’

“I can’t wait to show you all my favorite places.” he smiled at her. Billy wanted her to figure it out, he watched her look confused for a few seconds before her face lit up and billy let out a laugh knowing she got it.

“You’re coming to Cali?!” Y/n exclaimed with a huge smile across her lips.

“Yeah I’m coming.” Billy nodded with a matching smile.

Y/n leaped across her bed and hugged him, the force knocking them both back so y/n layed on top of him. “Yes! Thank you.”

“No, Y/n. Thank you.” Billy spoke softly, brushing her hair back with one hand and the other wrapped around her waist tightly so Y/n could go anywhere. They were never going to be separated again. Not if he could help it. She saw him for who he was under the asshole he betrayed, she made him a better man.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila @fandom-princess-forevermore @cherriebat

[hoenoredone]

A TYPICAL DATE

tags: sfw, fluff, headcanons, enstablished relationship characters: gojo, geto, nanami, naoya, inumaki, yuuta, noritoshi

GOJO SATORU

cat café

he's a cat dad and you're never going to convince otherwise. because of his job it's quite difficult for him to keep a pet in the house, he feels too bad leaving it all alone for days at the time (do not worry, the ball of fluff would have an automatic feeder and a self cleaning litter). so he gets his fix at a cat café. it's perfect, really: he can pet all the cats, and you can eat and drink to your heart's content while seeing him all happy and giddy.

GETO SUGURU

dinner and a movie

he's a wanted simple man, he's perfectly content setting the table while you stir fry the meat he had left in the fridge to marinate for the whole day. he'd fry up some popcorn after dinner and drizzle them in butter and salt. he loves it when you rest your head on his shoulder, especially if the movie turns out to be boring. he lets you fall asleep and does his best not to wake you at the end of the film. when nanako and mimiko make fun of him the day after for carrying you to the bed bridal style, he can only smile and ruffle their hair.

NANAMI KENTO

petit pâtisserie

he has a sweet tooth, sorry i don't make the rules. he doesn't like sickeningly sweet pastries, but a french press coffee and a slice of opéra cake are perfectly within his taste. he watches you eat an english scone with strawberry-rhubarb jam and clotted cream and sip on your darjeeling tea as he listen to you talk about whatever is on your mind. he notices some crumbs on your lower lip and tries to discretely let you know, but you're too absorbed in your own world to notice. so he gently wipes them away for you and notices a slight blush dusting your cheeks.

ZEN'IN NAOYA

michlin star restaurant

it's really not a date, it's more of an interview. he doesn't date just to date, he dates to marry. he needs to be the perfect heir for the zen'in clan, he needs a wife and a child. so he takes you to an incredibly expensive restaurant and grills you with questions. at the start it's not the most pleasant experience, but as the date goes on (if you answer his questions correctly) he loosens up and lets you speak freely. he doesn't even realize it, but he feels like he has a lot to prove, so once he decides that it's worth it he orderes his favorite wine (coincidentally the most expensive one) and shoos the waiter away to pour you a glass himself.

INUMAKI TOGE

arcade

please he loves the pinball machines, literally spends hours on them. you take turns at the claw machines to try and win each other a plushie (that riceball looks just like him? how?) and lose almost three thousand yen. he watches you play a shooter game and gets playfully annoyed when you don't listen to his tips. almost spills his coke all over one of the machines when you finally win your first game of the night. he offers you karaage to celebrate and you almost choke on the sauce when he imitates the panicked face you had during the game.

OKKOTSU YUUTA

picnic at the dog park

can he pet that dog? can he please pet that dog?? you bring the food and a table cloth, and he brings plates, cutlery, drinks and two different brands of dog treats. you could swear he spends more time looking at the dogs run around and telling you all about the specific breed than actually eating. a big fluffy maremmano runs towards him and almost knocks the picnic table over, but yuuta is ready: he grabs a duck skin treat from his pocket and hurls it to the other side of the park, but not before having pet the dog's head and having called him a good boy.

KAMO NORITOSHI

japanese tea house

he enjoys the quiet of the tea house's garden because he's not a kamo there, just noritoshi. he used to be partial to sencha tea but you insisted on ordering something different every time, and he's glad you did because he's a creature of habit, without you he wouldn't have discovered he actually prefers hojicha tea over anything else. he lets you order whatever you want, from dango to daifuku, even dorayaki once, but warabimochi remains his favorite.

[shojizbae]

Fame Monster

Tom Kaulitz x Reader

Your career had really taken off since your first album, Blutsbande, was released. Your European tour took over your summer break. You had performed all over many places you begged your mom to travel to. Of course, as your 'manager,' she got to tag along with you. You got to meet so many fans and explore new corners of the world.

That's not to say you didn't feel a small dull, annoying void in your life.

Tom.

You've thought about him every day since you met.

And in every way. When you meet couples and celebrities with their partners, seeing them in the crowds of your shows stung a lot. People can look deep into each other's eyes, especially when you sing your slow songs about love and desire. It was just in public, when your mother was meeting with your publicist, and you were alone on the tour bus, that you thought deeply about him.

About how he smelled and looked. Especially how he tasted. You regret every moment that you didn't kiss him. Since then, you distracted yourself by finding male fans who wanted to touch you. And there were many. You never went all the way with them. It didn't seem right. But every few weeks, you would find some cute Spaniard and give him a VIP pass to your dressing room. The most tabloids got from it was that you had blown a fan in Wales.

But now, you were home in Germany, tired and hungry. You were supposed to have a meeting with your publicist and the producers about beginning a new album and mapping the world tour for the first album. While they discussed some financial things that a star like you was too important to be bored with, you went looking for caffeine.

The break room is quite spacious and cozy. The walls are adorned with vibrant and expensive abstract art pieces, adding a touch of sophistication to the room. There are comfortable seating areas, and the room is well-lit, with natural light streaming through the windows. Overall, it's a welcoming space to take a break and relax.

Right as you enter, four rowdy boys come down a separate hallway. You sigh and open the stainless steel fridge.

"Ah shit, it's the pop princess!" Bill interrupts

"Deine Frau," Gustav snickers as he rattles Tom. Your eyes lock. It feels like everyone else in the world vanishes, and you're zoomed out, looking at the two of you on the planet, orbiting the sun.

"Hey, welcome back to reality, superstar." Tom smiles as if you two are best friends.

"Ja, it was super cool. Now I'm just super thirsty." One of his eyebrows shoots up as you open the fridge for a beverage. You grab the last bottle of Coke. You twist off the bottle cap and flick it to the trashcan again. The boys also find respective snacks and consume a couch. Discovering that there was no room left, you take the pocket of the sofa where Tom was sitting, resting your legs across his spread lap. You dig in with the arm of the sofa at your back. He regards you and then places one hand on your thigh.

They continue their conversation as if you belong in Tom's lap. Like you were just an accessory missing from his outfit. He traces circles over your thigh as they keep an idle conversation.

"Do you want some Cola?" You offer the bottle up to his lips.

"Ja," he takes a swig and hands it back to you. You smile at him and lick the rim of the bottle. The boys erupt at the pure eroticism of your acts. He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the coffee table. He takes hoists you up so you're straddling him.

"I'm going to kiss you now," He grips me tightly, and I just smile as he takes the lead. Before you get too heated and dirty, Bill clears his throat.

"Um, maybe find like a janitor's closet if you're going to have sex."

Georg and Gustav snicker, but you return to your little pocket under Tom's arm.

"I heard you're willing to do much in front of crowds." Georg jokes

"Uh, stupid tabloids, I went down on four guys over a three-month tour, and suddenly I'm some promiscuous slut. Didn't someone say you had slept with 25 girls when you were 14?" you slap Tom's chest

"Stupid tabloids," He agrees. Just then, your mother comes dashing out of the meeting room, screaming your name and waving her hands.

"Honey! Oh Mein, Gott! Angel." She comes to a halt right in front of you. "Who are these boys? Never mind, it's not relevant. This is super important, but we'll talk about these boys later. Rammstein wants you to open for them!"

In that regard Netanyahu you launched at out Tom’s lap, to his dismay. All around your European tour when you were stuck in interviews asking you the same questions they always asked who inspired you. Took hotel and Rammstein were always the answer.

Well, now, you had gotten that close to making out with a member of Tokio Hotel, and NOW Rammstein wanted you to come to tour with them. You were jumping around, hugging your mom, and squealing something in Hebrew.

"Wait, when?" you separate and hold your mom by her triceps

"Their tour starts in two months, so you're doing some shows in New Zealand and Australia, and then you'll be back in rehearsals." She switches her tone from 'mom' to 'manager'. You sulk, knowing that it was back to a busy and stressful life. Especially now that it seemed there could be something with Tom.

Before the blue could consume you, shouts of excitement consume the area behind you.

"Woah, so cool!"

"you're opening for Rammstein!"

"You're traveling more!"

The boys have all jumped up, encircled you, and congratulated you with back pats. Tom slings an arm around your shoulders and looks down at you fondly.

"I guess we'll have to save that kiss for when you get back."

"No way." You extend to your tip toes and direct his jaw by his cheek. He kisses you a little chastely, knowing your mom is right there. And when you pull back, it's all over. From then on, you know that Tom Kaulitz is the only one you want to be around. The look in his chocolaty eyes and the slight smile is a tell-tale sign that it's over.

You're all he wants.

"We should go for a celebratory lunch!" Bill cheers

"Ja, I'm hungry."

"Your publicist still needs to work out some details of this little oral scandal. I hope you start associating with better people. But for now, take the card and bring me back a brisket sandwich." Your mom tosses a credit card at you with a stern mom look.

"Sweet! Danke mama!" You hop up and kiss her cheek. On your way out, you get your jacket and purse. The boys follow you out, although none of them bring jackets. Bill is already wearing one.

"And liebe,"

"Ja Mama?"

"Don't eat too much, you'll get fat.'

"Yes, mama."

When you leave the record label, the boys have already hailed a taxi. You climbed in, comfortably sandwiched between Georg and Gustav. You know to keep your face covered in public, so you slide on sunglasses and a hat. Paparazzi isn't as heinous in Germany as in the US, but fangirls are bound to find the famous Kaulitz twins. They take you to a nicer sit-down restaurant, and you order a round of sodas and some bread.

For 16-year-old boys, they make tolerable conversation. You catch up on what it's like to be a young celebrity. Although it is really refreshing to just make dick jokes and laugh loudly. When you order food, Gustav orders your mothers a sandwich for you to go, and you get a chicken salad with pita. The boys joke about being emasculated by a woman paying, but they all agree to take you to lunch again when you return from Australia.

You slip your jacket back on your shoulders, slide out of the booth, and the boys follow you. As you leave the restaurant, you are bombarded by a camera flash, and you feel a hand interlock with yours and let it lead you to another cab. Screams of your name and 'Look here.' You're ducked into a cab, which speeds back towards the record label.

Paparazzi follow the car until you get on the freeway. When the adrenaline wears off, you realize that you've been tugged into someone's warm lap. You can feel his steady breathing as his chest rises and falls, and the gentle exhales fan the back of your neck. Just by scanning the faces of the three other men in the car's back seat, you deduce that you're sitting on Tom's lap. Although you could have put that together based on his belt buckle.

"Tom, you've got to fix your pants. I'm sitting right on your belt buckle." you try to shift around so that it's not poking you in the ass

"That's not my belt buckle, Schatz." He snickers

"Oh really?" You twist around in the crowded cab and sling your arms on his neck. Your tiny black mini-skirt rides up your thighs, showing off your neon patterned underwear."

"Yeah," He groans into your ear. "And let me tell you something, we could go at it right now."

"Now, in front of your brother. Hey, driver, we are rerouting. Take me to the nearest apartment." Howls envelop the cab, and the five of you are spat out on a curbside near a hotel. You swipe your mom's credit card for the cab and then swipe it again for a room.

You can't keep your hands to yourself in the elevator, and when you get to the hotel, it's over. Tom drags you to a bedroom and locks the door behind the two of you.

~.~

Your publicist nearly faints when he sees the tabloids the following day.

"Young star seen with salacious band Tokio Hotel" and photos of you and the four eating lunch together.

"Rising Rock stars seen holding hands" and the pictures of you and Tom

"Could a relationship between these two rockstars be blossoming?"

Rockstars seen making out in cab

"Young rockstars seen going into a hotel. They're only 16!"

Photo evidence of the five of you walking in downtown Berlin covered these drama blogs. Your mother is fuming when you get home. You're walking on sunshine, though. Freshly deflowered and in love. The following two weeks are a roller coaster, and you spend most of it riding Tom. You've already racked up quite a reputation when you reach the islands.

[thelovelyruin]

𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖊𝖉.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : racer choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : choso went off to the races, and you just couldn’t wait for him to come home!

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓: racer au! smut, real fluffy, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, love, teasing, fingering.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 4.5K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from speed by kali uchis.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! this is probably the cutest shit i’ve ever written ughhh. anyways, i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

You don't really know what you got yourself into.

“Whatcha need done, doll?”

“Some coolant? I think…”

Choso gave you a smirk as he walked around your car, throwing his rag over his shoulder. He encouraged you to come over and look under your hood, one hand on your back as he leaned you over the car. He brought his other arm to you, almost wrapping around you but being respectful. And fuck, you didn’t want him to be. He took a stick out of a basin, holding it up so you could see.

“Looks like you need some oil, too.”

You definitely needed that damn coolant; his proximity to you was making you hot. If he’d been able to see your face, he’d see just how flustered you were without him even touching you.

“Ya think so?”

“Yeah, see, the liquid is supposed to be up to here; yours is down here.”

“What about the battery?”

“Lemme check.”

He walked around to it, pulling away from you as you gasped slightly. 

“Yeah, we got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

You leaned back against the door beside him, looking at him directly. Shamelessly, he looked you up and down, licking his lips on the way up.

“You’ll need a new one.”

“Oh no! Can you fix that for me, too?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Boy, you think you know, but it just ain't that simple.

All these pet names were working you up, and you were sure he noticed. As he fixed your car, you sat on the bench in his garage, drinking one of the vintage cokes he left in the fridge. You’d seen him pour liquids into your car, something blue, which was the coolant, probably? You couldn’t really focus because he was shirtless now. It was a particularly hot day, one you didn’t think was hot enough to be shirtless, but then again, you weren’t the one working on a car. You could see how his abs flexed as he brought the wrench up to take the battery, glimmering in sweat as he wiped his face with a rag. Fuck, he was hot. You thanked Yuuji over and over for introducing you to him, which he probably didn’t even realize how hot he was, just a simple, ‘My brother upstate works on cars.’

“So, when’d you start workin' on 'em?”

“A few years ago, when I started building.”

“Where’s that at?”

“I’ll show you if you’re real patient.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, doll.”

With that, you shut up, not speaking to him again until he closed your hood, signifying he was done. He walked over to the sink he had in the garage, cleaning his hands and the oil off his arms. When he was done, he walked over to you, smiling as he saw your eyes widen at his approach.

“All done, princess.”

“Thank you so much; I don’t know what I would’ve done without you!”

You reached to pull out your wallet before he brought your hand down.

“No need.”

“You sure? I wanna pay you for your time!”

“Then let me take you out.”

“That’s all you want?”

He gave you a quick nod, walking across to sit the rag down on his workbench.

“Yeah? And what if I don’t want to?”

He brought his face down to yours, lips hovering close as he brought his hands on either side of your hips as you sat on the table. 

“Then tell me no.”

You shuddered as he brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly, then pulling back to grab the keys to your car.

“Friday, 6 PM. Don’t worry ‘bout drivin’ all the way out here again; I’ll come get ya.”

I don't got the time; you should read between the lines.

That was about 8 months ago. Ever since, Choso had come up to see you every weekend, which turned into every few days, coming with flowers and gifts as he brought you into a big hug. Except for this past week, when he drove out of town for a car meet that was forever away. Something about finals or brackets, pretty much an important race. Which he’d won.

You got all dolled up, pretty heels and dress, wearing that perfume he got you and couldn’t get enough of and that necklace with his name on it. Because everyone had to know you were his. He was set to come at 7, flying back upstate by 6, and then the 45-minute drive. You nearly melted when he texted you, already on the road.

“Can’t wait to see you, princess.”

'Cause you're skimming through the pages, it's really looking dangerous.

You jumped around the room in anticipation, causing Mai to come and check on you, but at that point, you had already laid on your bed, giggling as you held your phone. You’d look at his Instagram when he was gone, stories of his car and posing with the trophy and the prize money. And what did he do with that prize money whenever he won? Ask the bubblegum pink 350z sitting in your driveway. You’d seen it at one of the meets a while back, so he bought one and worked on it for a couple of months, wrapped it in your favorite color, and surprised you with it on your birthday, in which you showed your satisfaction very nicely. When he first taught you how to drive it, you’d almost hit a tree, but after a couple of weeks, you were pretty good. So good, in fact, he encouraged you to enter the girl’s races after the main races went down. You were scared as fuck and pretty sure you’d piss yourself, but he believed in you, and that’s all you needed. 

You hadn’t even checked your phone for the text he sent that he was pulling up; you’d heard the single exhaust humming down the street, a little backfire that you were sure scared the neighbors into thinking someone was shooting outside. You nearly ran out of your heels, grabbing your purse and waving bye to Mai. When Choso parked, he leaned against his car, preparing for what was coming next.

“Baby!!!”

You nearly tripped coming off your porch, and as he went to catch you, you jumped into his arms, causing him to chuckle.

“Miss me, princess?”

“So much, promise.”

“Fuck, I missed you too, baby.”

When I'm driving in your car, make me feel like I could do anything.

With that, he kissed you, still carrying you and walking to the car, opening the passenger door, but you weren’t ready to let go. You brought his neck to you, him pinning you against the car. You kissed him deeply, a kiss that said you never wanted him to leave again, and he kissed you right back, one that said he’d never want to leave again. But with all that distance, Choso was pretty damn horny.

He raised his hands to fondle your ass, groping the skin as you giggled into his mouth. Feeling a little more frisky, he brought his hands under your dress, tangling his fingers in your thong. He’d moved his lips down, you still giggling as he smiled into your neck. Swiftly, he pulled your thong down, bringing it off your legs as he sat you back down. He kissed you one last time, smacking your ass as you sat in the seat, closing the door, and stuffing your panties in his pocket. He sat in the driver’s seat, bringing your hand up to kiss it, making you blush.

“Ready, princess?”

But I do not have the drive; I'm in desperate need of your speed.

Baby, I can feel it coming; tell me, is it coming true?

As you two drive down the freeway, he’d do what he did best. Racing against some bastard, they’d always pull up next to him, signaling that they wanted to race, and who was he to say no? Especially when he knew he’d win, using the freeway as a warm-up for the festivities later. There were plenty of times that the cops would catch wind, which was obviously a bad idea because there was no way they were catching up to him and the other driver, and when he’d pull off to calm down for a bit and get the cops off his ass, he’d be so high on adrenaline that he’d fuck you in the backseat. Which you were currently itching for.

“Baby?”

“Mmhm?”

“Need you…”

“Hate to make you wait, but I promise I’ll take real good care of you later.”

You had your arms around his arm, never too tight, allowing him the space to shift gears. You pull away with a pout, slinking in the seat as you get on your phone.

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Yeah, what’re you gonna do about it?”

He knew you were waiting for him to give in, but he wasn’t fallin’ for it.

“Well, I was thinking about helpin’ ya out, but ya keep actin’ like that, and I’ll make ya wait till after the races. All of them.”

With that, you fixed your face and returned to being bubbly again. You brought your hands up to the top of your dress, pulling the top down to expose your cleavage, giving him those fuck me eyes. God, it was hard to say no to you. Whenever he did, you’d do something like that. And what was the result? Him rubbing your clit for a bit, not letting you cum, though, because only good girls get to do that. 

Maybe it was going perfectly the way you planned it to.

As you two pulled up to the meet, he parked towards the back, always scared that somebody would hit his car, which he was totally trippin’ about. Except that one guy that guy did hit his car, and he beat the shit out of him in front of everyone there, you bandaging his knuckles up later. You knew he got a lil’ angry sometimes, but never at you, so you didn’t really care if he intimidated half the guys he met. Especially the ones that tried to flirt with you. He wasn’t completely evil; he’d ask the guy to walk away first, but when they insisted on still talking to you, he’d punch their jaw, sometimes knocking their teeth out. Oh well.

He helped you out of the car, pulling down your dress as you got out to not flash anyone, reaching your hand to his pocket to take your panties back, but then he’d turn and give you that look, which you smirked at and retreated.

Lately, I've been thinking all I really wanna do is go faster. Can we go faster?

“Choso, my man!”

“Yuuji, you made it!”

“How could I miss it? You came all the way up here to race, so had to see ya…”

He turned to look at you with a smirk, looking back at Choso.

“I’m sure you had other reasons, of course.”

You laughed at his comment while Choso flipped him off. The three of you walked up to the crowd of guys by the front who were arguing. A good look, and it was obvious they were arguing over a race from the other day. Two of the guys you’d recognized from a couple of weeks back were going back and forth, one telling the other that he owed him money out of the pot and the other guy insisting that he didn’t have to pay because he won the race.

“Will you guys just shut the fuck up?”

Everyone turned to look at Choso in shock. What the hell was he doing? He was practically begging to get added to the argument. You retracted your arm a bit, preparing for the damage that was about to happen.

“Choso, you motherfucker!”

“Where’ve you been? I’ve had to race cheap ass bastards like this.”

“Hey, you know what? Go fuck yourself.”

They were actually excited to see him? You hadn’t gone to a meet in a while, so you were wondering why everyone was so happy to see him all of a sudden. As they patted his back and dapped him up, you refrained, pulling Yuuji to the side.

“What is going on?”

“He won out there; he was representing for the state. Didn’t he tell you he was going to finals?”

Fuck, he did. You hadn’t really paid attention to him when he said he was leaving; your sadness got in the way of that. Your boyfriend had a major accomplishment; you hadn't even congratulated him. You’d make it up to him lat-

“You okay, princess?”

“Yeah, just a little chilly, that’s all.”

“I’ll go get my jacket.”

“No, babe, I’m fine, promise!”

He could tell you weren’t fine. He wasn’t gonna pry, though, instead talking to the other guys about the rules of the race for tonight. You wish you knew a little more about what they were talking about, something about crosses and jumps? What was that? You pondered until Choso grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the car and leaning against the door.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just, I kinda just forgot something really important to you.”

“What?”

“The finals thing.”

“Babe, that’s what you’re worried about? I could care less about the race; I’m just happy to see my girl again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, now come back over; hate to leave and fuck you this early.”

You felt better, but he was fucking with you. He walked over to the driver’s side, yelling at the group.

“Stop chattin’ and come ready up!”

Something in the air; I really just don't wanna take it slow.

Choso had a few cars, but since he’d won out west, his TTRS was like his good luck charm. It was a pretty burnt orange, with red leather seats on the inside and one of the fiber optic ceilings that made the top of the car look like stars at night. Most of the time, he didn’t let you drive in it, implying it might be a little too dangerous, but since he won, he’d wanted you to drive in it all the time from now on. His girl and his car, he felt like a winner for sure.

The first race was guys who’d been racing when he was gone, a couple Supras and Civic’s, then more of the expensive cars, like Trackhawks and McLaren’s. It was a little hard to pay attention with choso groping your ass the whole time. You two stood behind his car, towards the back, as he waited for his turn. Damn, he was a tease, especially when he groped right at the inner part of you, centimeters away from touching your lips. Then, he’d talk to you the whole time.

“That one has a body kit, and that one has a stock engine.”

And when you’d moan and squirm more than he wanted you to, he’d slap your ass and stop.

“You’re paying attention, right?”

“Yes…”

“Good girl.”

He knew what he was doing to you, but he didn’t really care. The idea of you being hot and ready as you waited for him to win was riling him up, but he couldn’t let himself get too hard; he still had shit to do. After the third race, it was Choso’s turn, and he was going against a M340, which he said was a pretty fair matchup. He hopped in the driver’s seat, pulling the car around and getting prepared. As they heated the lanes to grip the tires, he shot you a smile, and you gave him two thumbs up. You thought flagging looked so fun, but Choso was too nervous that would be the day a motherfucker crosses too much and hits you. Nonetheless, they started revving their engines.

After they took off, you’d started recording; he always appreciated when you took little clips for him to post later. As they began pulling back, you started looking over the footage. You were shivering a little bit, and right about now, you were wishing you’d taken the offer on that jacket.

“You cold?”

You turned to look at the guy who had started talking to you. He was a cocky bastard, for sure. He’d worn a jacket with his team’s logo; you hadn’t seen it before, probably someone new who came when Choso was gone. Yuuji hadn’t raced that week, so you couldn’t ask him either. A guy behind him was pulling on his sleeve, trying to get him to stop.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“No problem, baby girl. You enjoying the race?”

God, you wish this guy would fuck off.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

“Oh really? He left a pretty girl like you all by yourself? Sounds like a pretty fucked up boyfriend.”

“Hey, you should really-”

“Who the fuck are you?”

If we waste the time, I think it might just make me miserable.

You hadn’t even realized Choso had finished his race; you were too busy trying to get this guy to go away. He’d wrapped his arm around you, shooting a death stare at the guy.

“Oh, you're the bastard in the TTRS! Shame you left this little lady alone; anything could’ve happened to her.”

“You got a fuckin’ problem? Keep talkin’ about her like that, and I’ll have your ass. What you can’t fuckin’ read?”

He held up your necklace, the one with his name on it; despite the fight that was probably gonna happen, it made you blush that he was claiming you like that.

“Choso, huh? You think you’re hot shit cause you won out there? Someone had to hold shit down around here while you were gone.”

Choso grabbed the guy by the shirt, about to fight him, when Yuuji intervened. He held up the sheet with the matchups; looked like this fucker was up against him next. Choso reluctantly let the guy go, smirking as he rubbed down his face. 

“Whatcha drivin'?”

“Hellcat, modded, bitch.”

“So nut up or shut up, motherfucker.”

The guy left to bring his car around, leaving you and Choso to walk around to his car, already in position from the last race. You nuzzled your face in your chest as he kissed your forehead. Before he let you go, he grabbed his jacket from the backseat, putting it on you. He was still a little horny, though. He brought his lips to yours, leaning you against the car, kissing you deeply as he brought one of his hands under the jacket, groping your tit. The other one? Flipping that bastard off as he got in his car.

“Gonna take care of his ass, stay with Yuuji til I get back, ‘kay? Hold on, I got a better idea.”

You gave him a quick nod as he pulled you over to a couple of guys towards the middle, interrupting their conversation and dapping them up.

“What’s up, bro?”

“I want her to flag.”

“You got it.”

You nearly jumped for joy. He was gonna let you flag? To be fair, it was probably so he could prove a point to that asshole, but you didn’t really care because you were too excited at the opportunity. One of the guys showed you how to do it, bringing a hand up, then down real fast. You had to wait for both of them to rev their engines, then give the signal about ten seconds later; the reaction time to the signal usually determined the race, so you had to be really careful. 

So, you were. Yuuji and some other guys held the back of Choso’s car; good luck for take off. You stepped in the middle and did just what he’d said, him giving you a thumbs up from the sidelines. The cars sped past you fast, wasting no time. You ran back to Yuuji, who was super proud, of course. Now, you guys just had to wait.

Lately, I've been thinking all I really wanna do is go faster. Can we go faster?

“How’s it feel, you shit-talkin' motherfucker?”

“Aye, go fuck yourself!”

Yuuji started yelling at him the second he got out the car, grabbing his share of the bets. Choso got out and walked over to you, picking you up and kissing you hard.

“You did so good, baby!”

“Me? That flagging was great, princess.”

Choso flipped the guy off, walking you to the car and letting you in. He walked over to Yuuji, who handed him the stack of cash he’d won and dapped him up, shooting you a little wave. You waved back as Choso put the money in a bag in the backseat. With a hand on your thigh, he drove off.

“Choso…”

“Yeah, I know, baby. We’ll be home in about thirty minutes.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“Well, you’ll have to, princess.”

You shot him lust-filled eyes, reaching your hand over to massage his dick through his pants. He sighed and pulled off on the next exit.

You better hit your brakes ‘fore you crash, boy, crash.

He’d pulled into a park towards the back of the parking lot. Once he parked, you were already on him, climbing into the driver's seat to straddle him as he adjusted it. You wasted no time bringing his face to yours and kissing him roughly, which caused him to pull you back by your neck, licking the skin there as you rubbed your bare pussy against his jeans. You didn’t really care if you’d stained them, just looking for any sort of relief from the teasing he’d given you all night.

“Slow down, princess. Wanna take things slow.”

“But baby, it’s been so long! Need you now!”

You brought his fingers down to your pussy, rubbing them against your clit. You started moaning into his neck as he removed his hands, leaving you whimpering for his touch.

“You don’t fuckin’ listen.”

He pulled your hips forward so he was face to face with your tits, pulling your top down and immediately taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You threw your head back and groaned, convinced you’d probably cum soon from being touch deprived for so long. Simultaneously, he brought his hands up to pull the fabric of your dress up, ass fully exposed as he slapped it and massaged it. He made you feel so good, but you knew you wanted more. You were gonna say anything to get him to hurry up.

“Baby…”

“Yeah?”

“Need to feel you cum inside.”

That brought something out of him. He’d sat you up a bit so he could undo his jeans, pulling his pants and briefs down so his dick was exposed. You moved it under yourself, trying to position yourself over it, and once you were? Well, Choso slammed you down on it. He didn’t want to be too rough with you; he originally planned to make love to you when you guys got back, make you cum a few times before he fucked you. But you were so damn horny, it made that idea impossible. He began bouncing you up and down on his dick, slapping your ass as he focused on how your tits were moving from the gravity of his thrusts. You were so blissed out that you couldn’t even think straight. He was fucking the shit out of you, and you were enjoying every second of it. It had been so long (literally a week) since he’d stretched you out, and you couldn’t help but moan his name over and over.

You better hit your brakes ‘fore you crash, boy, crash.

“That’s it, baby, say my name.”

“Choso…”

“How bad did you miss me?”

“So baddd….”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re actin’ like this?

“Yessss.”

He was fuckin’ your brains out, barely able to make coherent sentences. And he fuckin’ loved it. Watching you melt over his dick as fucked into you on that one spot that had you grippin’ his shoulders and stuttering while you moaned. Fuck, you made him so happy. Before you came up to see him all those months ago, Yuuji had shown him a picture of you, explaining that you were his friend and would need your car worked on. He told Yuuji right then and there he was gonna make you his girl, which Yuuji just jabbed his shoulder and wished him good luck. Now, here you were.

“Gonna cum for me baby?”

“Yes, Choso, fuck right there!”

“Right here?”

“Don’t stop, baby!”

He watched as you came undone over top of him, putting your face on his shoulder and screaming his name as he fucked you through it. He wasn’t gonna lie; the feeling of your pussy cumming on him drove him crazy. So crazy; in fact, he filled you up, just like you asked him to. You felt so good, finally getting fucked after so long. He still held your hips, sinking you back and forth until he got overstimulated. He slipped you off and sat you back down, kissing you softly before sitting you back in the passenger seat. He put his pants back on and started the car, fixing your dress and putting his hand back on your thigh.

“You good princess?”

“Uh-huh.”

When I'm driving in your car make me feel like I could do anything.

You thought you were off the hook, really. When you guys came home, he washed you up, put one of his shirts on you, and put you to bed with him, drifting sleep. That was until you pulled your leg over his, tits pressing against his chest. And fuck, you looked so sexy in his shirt, no panties on, slightly moving your hips against his side. He slid down and brought your legs over his shoulders, making you giggle as he looked up at you. He started by licking his tongue through your lips, licking up your precum as his hands massaged your thighs. You started squirming when he moved your lips out of the way to get direct access to your clit. He felt so good, a little too good, in fact.

“Baby, not so fast; I’m gonna cum real soon!”

“Oh, “not so fast” now? Where was that in the car?”

He picked up his pace, causing your body to jerk as you prepared to cum again. He chuckled into you as you called out his name, gripping his hair as he brought you to your climax. It was so intense you damn near ripped his hair out. But he didn’t care about that. He kissed the outside of your lips gently, trailing them all the way up your body until his lips met yours. He brought you back into his embrace as you fell asleep, for real, this time.

But I do not have the drive; 

The next morning, you’d wake up super early, surprising after the evening before, but you were just so excited to show him the clips you got. Then you showed him pics you took while he was gone and the video Mai took of you as you attempted to change the fuse for your headlight, which you didn’t so he’d fix it later. Nonetheless, you were his girl, and despite all of this car shit, you were all he really needed.

I'm in desperate need of your speed.

♱ the song used in this story is speed by kali uchis. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[lmskitty]

Here's have some Satosugu family stupidity. This is mostly just humour/crack fic because I needed a little break today. Hope you enjoy!

5 conversations Megumi Fushiguro overheard that he wished he hadn't.

Megumi Fushiguro loves his family, friends and boyfriend. He also hates all of them and thinks they should be the ones to pay for his therapy. Here are the things he has been made to hear with his own two ears over the course of one week.

1. The Todo Incident.

Todo mimed rudely with his right hand, his left hand holding his soft drink.

“Bro seriously if you sit on your hand it totally feels like it's a different person. Granted you should do both hands if you want the full package involved though.”

Yuji sighed “Number 1 no it doesn't, 2 stop telling me these things and 3 I don't even need this information!!” He hissed, pulling Todo’s arm down to stop him making the gesture.

Todo stared at him and then at Megumi and then erupted into applause wiping his eyes and hugging his friend, telling him how proud of him he was. He put his hand on Megumi's shoulder and congratulated him on his willpower and relationship, remarking that he had seen what his brother was working with and Megumi was truly strong in spirit for taking on that challenge. Megumi bent his finger back nearly breaking it and told him to never speak to him nor touch him again if he wanted to keep the other fingers.

2. The downfalls of understanding Riceball language.

Toge sat beside Yuta and leant his head on his shoulder before looking up at him, a gentle smile on his face.

Yuta smiled back. “I missed this. It's nice getting to hang out together in person again isn't it?”

Toge: Salmon, salmon, tuna mayo. (It was nicer getting to spend the morning in bed together with your dick in my throat)

Yuta coughed turning red. Megumi stared off to the side pretending he hadn't understood that.

Yuji stared at all of them. “Aw man did Toge say something funny again? I gotta get my head around that speech of his, it's so cool.

Megumi shook his head.

3. Not even safe at home.

Gojo walked into the kitchen and took his shirt off sitting next to his husband.

“Baby you are not gonna BELIEVE the size of the spot on my back”

Geto put his book down looking interested “bigger than the one on your thigh the other day?”

Gojo nodded "for sure!” He sat facing away from his partner. “Go slow though please it's gonna sting like a bitch I just know it”

Geto sighed and squeezed at his back and popped it. He showed Gojo how much was on his finger.

“Woah there was so much!” Geto said.

“Told you!” Gojo said. “Ooooh you know I'm kind of in a mood to be pampered, think you can do my eyebrows later, like tweezing them?” Gojo said, leaning his head back onto his partner's lap.

Geto smiled “Ok baby, and wanna do face masks like last time?”

Gojo nodded and clapped his hands together happily.

Megumi shut the fridge door behind them.

“Sometimes I think it would be less gay if I walked in on you two actually fucking” he said and took his coke upstairs.

“Oh go kiss your boyfriend you homophobe!” Gojo yelled after him, Geto laughed.

4. Girl talk

“No lube, no protection, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord’s prayer, he can have me!!!!” Nanako wailed at the TV lying on the floor pretending to claw at the screen watching the new Jungkook video again for the 15th time.

“He is pretty cute,” Tsumiki smiled.

“He could spit on my face and I'd thank him,” Mimiko sighed.

Megumi looked down at his salad and threw it in the bin deciding to only visit the kitchen when he was sure no one else was there.

5. Couples counselling

“Look I get it, I know you have an image to maintain but can we please just talk about it” Nobara said following Maki who sighed and stood up ahead.

“No, can we please just drop it”

“It's ok to be embarrassed but honestly I think it's really cute you're always the little spoon! I'm sorry I called myself your jetpack!”

“Panda is never gonna let me live this down,” Maki said. “And you can stop smirking too!” She yelled pointing her staff at Megumi who raised his hands and backed away going down the other way through the corridor.

[swee7dream]

haii!!! i saw u posted the 127 masterlist im SO excited to see what u write for them (and wayv in the near future)

could u write cg! yuta w a little!f! reader whos regressing around him for the first timr... thatd be cute methinks :3 thank u for ur time and consideration

- @aeriaeri

greetings and introductions cg!yuta x reader

genres agere content, established relationship, fluff warnings i wrote about watching a movie i've never seen before, indirect mention of yuta as an idol dni if you sexualize age regression word count 1802

Yuta has done lots of hard things in his life. Really hard things.

He’s traveled to a foreign country with nothing but a dream and a Japanese-to-Korean dictionary. He’s lived all of his adult life in front of a camera and under the harsh criticisms of the internet. He’s watched his friends (read: Haechan and Taeyong) live-react to his acting projects in person.

But no matter what he’s experienced in the past, it’s always the now that feels the most threatening and terrifying. Now that he’s standing outside of your door, Yuta feels his heart in his throat and his stomach and coming out of his-

The undoing of your lock pulls him out of his thoughts, gulping and clutching the large stuffed animal he ordered a couple of days ago closer to his chest.

He hopes you like him.

“Hey.” You don’t look at him in the eyes when you open the door, only step back for him to come in. “How was the trip?”

“Fine. Good.” He clears his throat into his free hand as he steps in, looking around your place. It’s not as if he hasn’t been here before. He’s come over several times, the number of sleepovers innumerable in his mind. “You?”

It’s a Sunday, you have no reason to be out at all today. Still, you answer, relocking the door as he takes off his shoes and places them next to yours.

“Fine too. Take a seat,” you invite, shuffling your way to the kitchen. “I’m getting a glass of water. You want one?”

“I’ll take a coke if you have any.”

“You got it.”

You take the bottle from the fridge, still as full as the last time your boyfriend came over because you hate how the carbonation bites the inside of your throat when it goes down. You’re careful when pouring it, the light foam takes over more and more of the glass until it nearly overflows, the soda itself filling only about 20% of the glass.

As you wait for the bubbles to fizzle out so you can pour again, Yuta takes a spot on your couch. He’s stiff as a doll, feeling almost strange that his knees didn’t creak when he sat down. This apartment that has your scent and all your belongings, it’s the same but oh so different all at once. He feels almost stupid for not noticing all these little things before.

Under his feet is the fluffy green rug with no table over it, left open for napping and drawing and crafting. It’s an incomplete picture, being able to see your figure in his mind but not any details because… he hasn’t met you yet. Not this side of you that you’ve shown to a number of people you could count on one hand.

“Babe.”

The bottle of Coca-Cola is back in the fridge and you’re standing in front of him now. It’s the first time you meet each other’s eyes today and the anxieties of the past 24 hours seem to flow out through the spaces in his teeth, revealed when he smiles.

Your standing in between his legs gives him the perfect chance to wrap his arms around your torso and pull you close enough for him to rest his chin on your tummy.

“I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you too,” you reply, feeling somewhat cocky at the familiar lovesick look on Yuta’s face. He makes you feel loved and loveable. It’s strange, but you can’t help but want to monopolize that expression to only you like a dragon with its hoard of treasure. “Can you take your soda now? My hand is freezing.”

“Mmm… can’t I just hold you a little longer? Please?” he whines, dropping his nose to tickle your stomach.

“You can hold me on the couch, you big baby.”

You hear mumbles of ‘it’s not the same’ but he relents, taking the glass from you so you can curl up next to him, throwing the blanket folded over the back of the sofa on your lap when you begin feeling cold. The doll Yuta brought is crushed between the couch arm and his side when he scooches over to make room for you to lay next to him.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, cheek on his upper arm.

That gets a hum of confusion from him, echoing out from the glass as he drinks.

“Why?”

“What if I scare you off? What if you’re, like, ‘yeah no, I’m checking out of this freakshow.’?”

“’I’m checking out of this freakshow’?” He smiles and you can’t help but break too. It’s ridiculous for him to say that, especially to you of all people, but it usually takes expressing your anxieties aloud to re-realize that.

“…anyway. Put on something on the TV.” You tap him gently.

“Cirque de Soleil?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Moulin Rouge?”

“If you don’t-”

“Oh, I got it! Dumbo.” He struggles for a moment before pulling the soft plush doll of a gray elephant in his hand. He holds it like an award with a grin so wide you wouldn’t have guessed his heart is nearly beating out of his chest, hoping he didn’t push you when you’re not ready yet.

You glare at him for a good five seconds in silence, the tilt of his head faking innocence.

“Do what you want.” You sigh at his smugness, gently taking the toy into your hands, your thumbs coursing over the fur before holding it close.

“I always do, baby.” Your face is peppered in kisses that taste like coke. “You like it?”

“It’s okay.”

—

The original 1941 motion picture Dumbo is considered one of the studio's shortest animated films at 64 minutes long. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get comfortable, ten minutes in fact.

Around 20 minutes in, Yuta called for the smart home assistant to turn the lights down and give you a smirk (“What a thoughtful gift! I wonder who was so considerate so as to buy you something like that.”). Around minute 42 is when he notices how quiet you’ve gotten, looking over to see you with your thumb’s nail in between your teeth and a twinkle his mind is trying to help him recall in his memories in your unblinking, focused eyes.

He’s seen it before, when you went to the amusement park, playing carnival games; and the times you’ve gone to the mall, walking past the toy stores.

“You okay, baby?”

“Okay…” you mumble in response.

The person who is not okay is him. Once again he’s stiffened up. The realization that you’ve probably slipped in front of him has his heart in his throat again. It’s not like the other times, this time he knows what’s going through your mind and you don’t have to push down your instincts. He’s not going to mess this up for you, he promised to himself.

—

Yuta doesn’t know how to not mess this up, he realizes a minute later. So he chooses to not do or say anything at all unless you ask him to. It’s a good strategy, he comes to discover.

As the credits roll, you begin to speak, Yuta takes note of its softness, the rhythm your words have different than usual. You’re still you, obviously, but he can’t help but think about how truly different the air around you has become, as if there were another person that you shared a body with and he can’t help but love just as much as he does you.

“Like Dumbo’s mama. ‘s a good mama.”

“…yeah. She sure is, baby.”

“Wish I had a mama like Dumbo’.”

“Why’s that?”

”She just so nice. She beats up all o’ Dumbo’s mean bullies and doesn’ even blame him when she goes to lelephant jail.”

“She is pretty nice,” he agrees, eyes crinkling at your attempt at the word ‘elephant’. “You know what? I want to be like Dumbo’s mama too. I wanna protect you just like she does her baby.”

“Yuta wanna be my mama?”

“Well, I’m a boy, baby.” He laughs, gazing softly at the genuine twinkle in your eyes. “…but I can be your mama. Anytime you want me to.”

“Mean it?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course I mean it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

The moment makes him smile. This is you, the one who manages to console him even though he’s the one who had to cancel your date. The one who brings him coffee at crazy hours when not even the sun is awake. The one he introduced to his family with his chest puffed out and never regretted since.

But it’s also not.

This is a part of you that hasn’t gone through any of those things yet and does not worry about things like gas prices or separating whites from colored. At this moment, when the credits to Dumbo roll on the TV and rain begins to hit the windows of the apartment, you’re a brand new canvas. Right here, right now, it’s as if none of the bad things that you’ve gone through ever happened and he’s able to block them out from happening again for you.

Loosening your grip on the elephant plushie you hold tight to your chest, Yuta slips his hand into yours and locks your pinky fingers. To seal the oath, he brings your hand up to his lips, still connected with his.

“Pinky promise.”

“So nice to me. I love you lots.” You sigh satisfactorily, your turn to rub your nose on him like he did less than two hours ago. “But Yuta not a mama.”

His fingers settle on the top of your head, dark eyebrows raised when he looks down at you, eyes shut with tiredness.

“No?”

“No.” You mumble into his shirt. “Dun’ like it. Want ‘nother name.”

“What if I like Mama?” He whispers, trying not to wake you from this half-submersion you’re in inside Morpheus’ arms. His bottom lip pouts out, trying to replicate just how adorable you look to him, fully aware of how he could never compare.

“No.”

“Aw man. Okay, baby. We’ll figure out another name for me another time okay? Why don’t you close those pretty eyes for me right now?”

“Yuta stay?”

“Yuta’ll stay. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”

“T’morrow…”

“Tomorrow…”

author's note this was difficult to execute. age regression from an outsider's point of view is not easy to describe ... still, i hope it was an enjoyable read ! constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated in all my works but especially this one (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)

[sawyerslvt]

Johnny or Leland? | Episode 1

Previous Episode ♡ Next Episode Hiyyaa <33 This is a choose your own ending story. I'm sure this has been done before on here, but I've always been obsessed with the option of choosing your own path in stories. I wanted to make a love triangle story between Leland and Johnny but I just couldn't choose who to pick in the end so this was the best solution to my problem. I have also included links to porn in this series, for better visualization ;) I hope you enjoy the story! <3 Word Count: 1,644 Warnings: MDNI, kidnapping

You've always had such a hard time choosing. You find yourself spending ages making simple decisions and you don't understand how hard it can be… Do I want regular Coca Cola or Coca Cola cherry? You're standing in front of the open fridge at the convenience store, shutting it only after the cashier starts giving you dirty looks. You continue holding both of the glass bottles in your hand. Taking turns looking from one soda to the other. You feel this is a losing battle regardless, whatever you end up not choosing, will be the one you crave after taking one sip of your chosen drink. You take a deep sigh and don't take notice of the man approaching you. 

“Havin’ a hard time deciding?” Your gaze shoots up from the bottles and you're met with a young man smirking at you, leaned up against one of the soda fridges. “uhh, yeah… which one would you pick?”, you tilt your head curiously. You just want this small inconvenience to be over with already. “I'm more of a classic guy. Don't like cherry too much. Go with the original”. He’s confident in the way he’s speaking. “Well, I do like cherry. I just-” He cuts you off, “cherry it is then sweetheart, come on, i'll get it for ya”. He opens the fridge and grabs the original coke from your hand to place it back in its place. You feel his hand graze yours, making your eyes shoot up to look at his face. He’s close to you as he reaches into the fridge. You get a whiff of his cologne and he smells really good. 

He walks over to the cash register and you place the cherry coke on the counter. The man pulls out his wallet and flips through his cash to bring out a dollar bill. You haven't stopped staring since the first time you laid eyes on him, he’s beautiful and the way he occasionally licks his lips makes you feel some type of way. He finally takes notice, and as the cashier collects his change, he looks over to you to shoot you a quick wink. He lets his head drop, chuckling and your cheeks burn hotter than the sun. The cashier is unamused, rolling his eyes at the cheesy scene unfolding before his unfortunate eyes. You grab your drink off the counter while your head stays down to hide your hard blushing. 

He holds the door open for you and gestures for you to walk in front of him. Once you exit the store, you're met with the cool night breeze. The sun has already set so it doesn't burn your skin to be outside, but you still feel that damn heat nonetheless. “Thank you for the drink, sir. You shouldn't have” your voice is sweet and gentle, you appreciate his kind gesture. “Sir?! alright, please don't tell me I look like a sir to you!”. His mouth is left agape but you see him smiling through his shock. You giggle at his reaction… it was intentional, he didn't look old at all but you just couldn't refrain from teasing him. “Oh, I don't know. Why don't you introduce yourself?”. You look up at him with a warm smile and he laughs, loving your playfulness. “Well darlin’, since you asked so kindly. The name’s Leland, I'm not a sir and I’d love to get to know a beautiful woman like yourself”. He looks down to your blushed face and smirks, loving your mannerism every time he directly flirts with you. 

You look down at the ground but he steps closer to you, bringing his hand to your chin to have you facing him again. “No need to act all shy with me, sugar”. He’s only inches away from your face. You feel the warmth of his breath bounce off your lips. He’s still holding onto your chin and staring directly at your lips, making you lick them to prepare for him. He looks into your eyes briefly, smirking, then quickly pulls in to connect his lips with yours. His lips are soft and you feel like you're melting into the strangers arms as he uses his free hand to pull your waist closer. You shoot your eyes open as you hear a tree branch breaking behind you. It sounded close enough for you to turn around completely, facing the direction of the noise. 

Leland looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what's with the theatrics. “Did you hear that?” Your voice is almost whispering. “It was probably some squirrel. What? You're scared of some cute critter?”. He teases you and you laugh, playfully hitting his shoulder. He makes a face, pretending you hurt him, holding his shoulder and letting out fake pained grunts until he eventually also breaks into laughter with you. His teasing made you let your guard back down. He gently turns you back around and pulls you in again, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched as you continued kissing him. You were most likely paranoid due to the pitch blackness of the forest behind you. Anything could lurk in the shadows and your fear of the unknown is taking a toll on you, it was probably nothing. You feel a chill run up your spine, making you shiver and hug yourself. Leland notices your discomfort and  pulls away from the kiss. He places both his arms around you, covering you like a warm blanket. “...you wanna warm up in my car?”. He looks down at you with his kind eyes. You nod into his chest and look up at him giving him a warm smile. He returns the smile and keeps one arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk over to his car. 

Once both of you are seated in his car, he looks over to you. Your hands are tucked between your thighs, partially because of the dropping temperature. But it was also a way to calm the butterflies going wild between your legs. Just looking at the man made your thoughts act up. His lips were softer than cotton and thinking about them again made your lips tingle. Your thoughts get interrupted by his hand making its way to your thigh. His hand gives you a gentle squeeze as it rests warm and soft on your thigh. “You’re beautiful”. His words escaped him as if he was nervous. There were no hints of nervousness coming from him from the second you met him. You look at him and there is innocence to his mannerism, you find yourself smiling over his sweetness. Without saying anything, you lean in and let your lips find his. Your hands rest on his lap and he has one of his hands wrapped around your waist while the other is behind your neck. 

You deepen the kiss, squeezing your hands in his lap. Your hands are resting close to his bulge and you feel how big the curve is. You moan into his kiss and he responds giving you a deep groan. He introduces his tongue and you gladly welcome it inside your mouth. Your spit and tongues swirl together and you can tell he’s experienced. You feel your pussy get wetter as you kiss him but break away from it to look down at his growing bulge. You look into his narrowed eyes and you can tell he wants you badly. You stroke the print of his shaft from the outside of his tight fitting jeans. You bite your lip as you continue stroking and he leans his head back, releasing a wonderful groan to express how good your soft hands feel on his clothed cock. 

He lets his head return to meet your gaze and in that moment it was just you and him. Both of you were completely unaware of your surroundings as you started to unbuckle his belt. You unzip his jeans, breaking away from the kiss to focus on the zipper for a second. To your absolute horror, you hear the driver’s window shatter, and before you realize what had happened, you see Leland’s head collapsed on the steering wheel and blood gushing from the back of his head. You see the stone that was used to break the window and a faceless man rushing behind the car to make his way to your side. 

“Leland!!! Please wake up!” you try shaking him but your desperate pleas prove to be useless as he’s knocked out cold. Your fight or flight kicks in and you unlock the door to get away before the man gets to you. You swing the car door open, crying as you feel horrible for leaving Leland behind. You run but your heart skips a beat when you hear heavy footsteps chase after you. You’re smart enough to not look back and continue running for your life, screaming for help as you try to make it back to the convenience store. You had no idea how close the man was to you but you become very aware the second he manages to hit you across the back of your head, making you fall to the ground. Your head is pressed against the concrete with his big hands, making it impossible to move and your vision starts to blur until everything fades to black. 

Previous Episode ♡ Next Episode

credit for dividers: @y-onb @plutism <3

[steviewashere]

The Bow on a Gift

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Internalized Fatphobia, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Negative Body Image, Body Dysmorphia Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chubby Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Mom, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Chubby Chaser Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss

I'm a fat guy and this is partially based on experience. So you will be nice, or else. (There's nothing I'll do, but I am scowling, if you must know.)

Read on AO3

💕—————💕 Steve Harrington was a chubby little kid. You wouldn’t know that unless you asked directly, but it’s true. He’d been a little boy with dirty blonde hair, sun kissed cheeks, and a thick body sturdy enough to climb trees in his backyard. He didn’t parade this information around, though. Not with the voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his mom; telling him to drink another glass of water instead of getting just one more scoop of food, to check the nutrition label on his packet of cookies (and to stop eating them immediately if the first ingredient was sugar; which it was, it always was), and to stay away from certain foods. Candies, chips, carbs—anything his mom disapproved of, labeled unnecessary and innutritious.

So, his relationship with food and body went from: This is good. To: It’s no longer good enough.

He had slimmed down over the years, no praise towards his eating habits. This was pure just working out through sports and gym class. His meals were portioned out to him by his parents, served to him as seen fit in school, or packed to be the best of the best. Always without the addition of some sort of snack food. Bad food, as it had been deemed in his house. Junk food, as it had been deemed by the public.

Other kids would offer up single Oreos from their sack lunches. He’d shake his head with a wry smile, say something about ‘watching his figure’ (like his mom would say), and go back to eating whatever meager meal was in front of him. A tuna salad sandwich some days. Water and a salad—leaves wilting and dressing a little left of good sour—on others.

He mourned those little moments of indulgence in his day. The couple little chocolate candies he could have before going to bed on Halloween night. A snack cake from the Byers family next door. His very own baggie of Doritos to go with his freshly made turkey sandwich, the champion’s meal after long days spent in the pool. And so his relationship with food and body went from: It’s no longer good enough. To: There’s nothing good about it.

Steve Harrington was a chubby kid. But he won’t talk about it, not really.

Though, he sort of has to now. Now that he’s thicker again, soft belly and chunky thighs and meaty arms. Now that the world ending fights are over and he’s relaxed and a little more sedentary than he was. Now that Eddie is giving Steve sad, cow-like, brown eyes whenever he mentions ‘watching his figure’ or being ‘not hungry’, or when he looks at a freshly taken Polaroid and asks a little too loudly under his breath ‘is that what I really look like?’.

——— Eddie’s sitting on the couch next to him. He’s shirtless, fresh from outside in the pool, eating away at a bag of Ruffles he brought with him. There’s an open can of Coke on the coffee table, gently popping and foggy from the fridge. The bag is shifted between them, open side towards Steve.

He eyes the chips inside. The dark orange coating—cheddar and sour cream flavored. Knows that if he takes even one, he won’t be able to stop himself. That he’d probably eat the whole bag. Because he’s done that before. After he’d not let himself indulge in snack foods, he’ll do that. Take in whatever junk food item he can find, hide away in his room, and eat it until he’s either sick or can’t stomach anymore. Usually the former happens before he knows it.

They look tantalizing though. And his tongue salivates at the mere thought of them. Imagining the salty goodness flat on his tongue. The savory notes of cheddar. What it would be like to give in could only be described as a dream.

“You wanna few?” Eddie asks around a mouthful. He absentmindedly scratches at his belly, Steve watching. Looking between them. At his own body, where he’s begun to develop a little pouch of a belly, folding over his older, tighter Hawkins High sweatpants. Then he peers at Eddie’s, lithe, thin, fit as a fiddle—even though Steve watched him devour an entire pizza outside, even though he had a few ice cream bars, even though he’d guzzled down some beers.

Steve knows as soon as he eats one of these chips, everything his mom said will come true. That it’ll go straight to his waistline. That he won’t be able to shed the pounds. That he’ll be a disgusting mess. Even though this body is comfortable, a little warm, entirely soothing. Even though he could see himself chubby again and know that he’d recognize himself. He looks like he did just before high school, before he really started to lose weight, when he was the happiest he’d ever been.

“Nah, I’m good,” he relays through a tight, fake smile. “Had quite a big lunch not too long ago, remember? I’m trying to watch my figure.” He pats his own center for good measure. Palm meeting soft cushion, like he’s patting a pillow. But he’s all too aware that’s his own middle he’s touching. Grimaces at the realization.

Eddie eyes him for a beat. Chewing stopped, food swallowed, not going back for more. He not so subtly wipes his crummy, greasy chip fingers on his swim shorts. And just keeps looking. “Why do you do that?” He asks bluntly.

Steve chuckles nervously. “Do what?”

“You make these awful comments about your body. Why do you do that?”

He scoffs. “Like you weren’t already thinking them, Eddie. I’m fat. And I shouldn’t be eating all this shitty food.” His hand rests on his middle, scrunching his fingers lightly, feeling that extra padding through his t-shirt. Feels like he should’ve grabbed a different shirt. Something looser. Something less outlining, skin-tight. It doesn’t actually fit against his skin like plastic wrap, but it tries to.

As Eddie continues to stare in stunned silence, Steve retreats in his mind.

Thinking over how a lot of his clothes have become tighter in the last several months. Thinks over everything he ate today—a slice of pepperoni pizza (‘Too much bread, Steven,’ his mom’s voice states), four glasses of water, a banana, the chocolate bar Robin threw at him (‘Think of the sugar, Steven! That’s awful for you,’ his mom rings out again), and a single beer (‘Beer? Really? That’s alcohol, Steven. God, you really are like your father’, and that particular comment stings. His dad is a bigger guy, has a bigger gut, wears larger clothes. It stings.) He kind of wants to cry. To hide. To run away.

So that’s what he does. He stands abruptly from the couch. Eyes on him, still, burning and observing. Seeing exactly who he is and how he’s shaped. And he darts up to his bedroom—trying not to focus on how parts of him jiggle or how parts of him slap against the other or how his sweatpants shift in a way that pinch him because they’re too small. He slams his door shut, locks it, and stuffs himself at his desk. And 'stuffs' feels right because his chair creaks, it squeezes him. He can feel it. Feel himself. Knows every little movement he makes and how it makes him look.

And his eyes drift over to the few pictures he has framed on his desk. Some of Robin and some of Dustin. One with Eddie and Mike. Then, one that particularly irritates him, is a photo Eddie sneakily took. Of Steve laying on one of the loungers outside, shirtless for once, belly spilling over the waistband of some swim shorts, hairy and soft. There’s a roll forming under his chest. And he squeezes the equivalent of that now, noticing that it seems bigger than the picture is making it out to be. Looks harder and notices his chest has grown to be a bit flabby, moobs. Eyes scrutinizing the way his ankles are bigger and his watch is tighter on his wrist and that he’s laying on his chair in such a way that there’s a more pronounced double chin. He squishes that, too. The heft of his fat between his fingers. And for a moment, he kind of wants to throw up.

His cheeks are warm under his fingertips. Squishy. Pinch-able. And his fingers are thick, thicker than he remembers them being. His feet feel wider when he flexes them under his desk. Every little bit of him is softer and more humiliating and just a little more disgusting.

This was a safe body at one point. The softness in it was comfort. And the warmth it carried was a balm. But it’s just this. A terrible reminder of how selfish he is, how over-indulgent he is, how much of a mistake he’ll always be.

He shouldn’t do it, but he looks back at the photo. At everything about him. The roll and the moobs and the soft underbelly. The thick neck and thicker legs and widening wrists. And then his eyes drift back to his center. Noticing, for the first time ever, that he’s got those red stretch mark lines forming on his hips and near his belly button.

Remembers, only some short years ago, when he was stout and chubby and still a pre-teen dorky kid—how his mom would make all sorts of ugly comments about those lines. When she’d see the silvery ones left after giving birth to him, the way her fingers would trace them and she’d scoff. Or how she’d see them on his dad’s hips, making some short comment about how fat his dad was getting. Remembers the look of hurt that would flash over his dad’s face—quick and subtle, but contorted and downward and sour nonetheless. And he knew, still knows, that sometimes his dad can be a total asshole—college and work and doing good in life all stark reminders of failure—but knowing that even the biggest, toughest, and smartest of guys can be knocked down with statements like that…It always made Steve feel just a bit sick. He knew he’d never be perfect in their eyes, but something about his physical attributes being all that matters to his mom, that hurts. He may never be the smartest of their family tree or the best, but at least his dad can find respect for him in other regards—knowledge about cars or sports or hugs given after rude comments from his mom.

There was no respect for Steve’s soft body, though.

And how was he supposed to respect his own when it was nothing to everybody else? When it was gross, unflattering, the topic of every conversation? When he was peered at like a bug, poked and prodded, scarred?

He gently rolls the t-shirt he’s wearing so that it sits just below his pecs. And looks down. Lifting up a love handle to really get a good look. There they are. Red, fresh, scarred reminders of just how awful his body is.

Nobody likes the fat kid. Not his mom. Not his middle school gym teachers. Not his old friends. How is he supposed to believe that this body of his is liked now? All he’s heard is negative. And negative it must be.

A knock on his bedroom door breaks him out of it. “Steve?” Eddie’s soft voice flutters in.

Steve sniffs, unbeknownst to him that he was crying. He hastily wipes at his cheeks. Choked, he calls out, “Please go away, Eds.”

Eddie sighs gently. Rests his head on the door, his hair rustling from how he shifts. “I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he sincerely apologizes. “I just…I don’t know. It makes me upset to hear you talk like that.”

“Yeah, well—“ His voice crackles, attempting to be stubborn, but sorely failing. “—It makes me upset that you have to see me like this. I’m…Eddie, I’m fucking ugly, don’t you get that?”

For a long moment, Eddie doesn’t speak. And in that time, Steve thinks he left. Left because he realizes that Steve’s right, that he is some ugly mess, incapable of being loved correctly. But then the gentlest voice Eddie’s ever carried comes through. “Baby, you’re not ugly.”

Steve’s chin wobbles, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I am, Eddie. I am—“

“I look at you, Steve and see somebody I want to know infinitely,” Eddie admits quietly, bulldozing the claim Steve was making. “You’re someone that I seek out, a person I find comfort in. You are…” And he swallows heavily. The sound unmoored by Steve’s shaky breath. “…You are so damn beautiful to me. I—I know that’s hard to believe, probably with how you view yourself, but it’s true. I enjoy the fact that you’re relaxed enough now to indulge, to grow comfortable. I love the way peace wears itself on you, Steve. You’re beautiful, you’re everything, you’re…Steve, you’re somebody I love so deeply that I can’t fathom viewing you any other way.”

Slowly, Steve comes back to the door. He twists the doorknob, listening as Eddie shuffles back a couple half-steps. And opens it just enough to peer through. Eddie’s soft, sad eyes are on him again—not observing, just looking. There’s something warm in his gaze though, a warm blanket stretched between them that Steve wants to nestle in.

“Do you really mean that?” Steve asks a little breathless. It sounds whiny to his ears, maybe a little petulant. But Eddie doesn’t look affronted by it or mad. Just disheartened.

He nods gently. “Yeah, sweetheart. I really do mean that. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Even though I’m…Though I’m fat?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers immediately. And another part of Steve preens, loving that Eddie didn’t say something stupid like, ‘You’re not fat.’ Because so many people have said that. Too many people have said that. “Steve you could be in any kind of body and I’d still think you’re beautiful. And…uh, it’s kind of odd to admit it, but maybe I have a preference for chubby people?”

Steve snorts and opens the door a little wider. “Really?” He asks, a semblance of teasing back in his voice. “Is that really something that does it for you?”

“There are so many places on you that I can use as a pillow. Or that I could bite. You’ve got more space for kisses! Steve, think about how many kisses I could give you!” Eddie emphatically states. He grows a little meek-ish, though, when he continues. “And, honestly? I’ve been attracted to you since like…seventh grade. I’ve literally seen you in all shapes, all sizes. My attraction to you has not wavered, tell you that much. The chubby bit is like a giant bow on top of an already amazing gift. Y’know the kind of bows that are sticky on one side? The ones you sometimes stick to your forehead and then you keep afterwards because you liked how shiny it was and your mom says something like, ‘Why on earth are you keeping that?’ and then you say you like it because it’s pretty and then she rolls your eyes and lets you keep it, but then you’ve got like something really cool and awesome and memorable in your hands and you just kinda want to cradle it forever? That’s—“ Eddie takes a heaving breath, washing out Steve’s tiny fit of giggles. “—That’s…I want to hold you in my hands and keep you forever.”

Steve takes a step out in the hallway, grabs Eddie’s hand, and leads them back into his bedroom. He’s still laughing as Eddie squawks, blushing furiously, nervously chuckling back. He takes Eddie’s face between his softer hands, relishing in the way he reaches up and grabs onto Steve’s wrists. Thumbs running warmly over pulse points. “You’re such a dork!”

“And you’re such a beautiful person, Stevie.”

He leans in, resting his forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. Hands falling down to his biceps. Squeezing. “You’re such a dork,” he reiterates, voice soft and awed. “And it’s the nicest thing in the world. But I…” Steve looks back up, chin digging into Eddie’s chest, peering up reverently just as Eddie does the same downwards. A hand cups the back of his head, running over his hair. “I need you to know that sometimes I still feel bad.”

“Means I can remind you more just how much I love you.”

“And I have a bad time controlling my food habit bullshit.”

Eddie shrugs. “So I’ll be there to help you out, no biggie.”

“And I have stretch marks.”

Warm hands travel up and down Steve’s back. And…yeah, it feels nice the way Eddie’s palms glide over his softer parts. How they tenderly hold him. He doesn’t feel bad, not within these arms. “I’ve seen ‘em,” Eddie admits quietly. “You wanna know what they mean to me, though?”

“Hm?”

“It means that you’re comfortable enough to relax. To let yourself…be at peace. And the best thing about ‘em is that they’ll turn silver with time. Shows to the world your survival, sweetheart,” Eddie explains. Voice gentle, seeking. Loving. “Means that at some point in our lives, whatever stretch marks you have will fade just like the other scars we share. They’ll just become another memory of yesterday. And that I can admire them when we’re a little more wrinkled, wrapped around each other in bed, sharing kisses like secrets. Means that we won and I got to keep you as my prize.”

Steve shifts his hands from Eddie’s biceps to his face again. Holding him just as soft as Eddie is. Just enough to squish his cheeks, just enough to feel him, but not smother him. And he pulls him in. Rubs his nose against the tip of Eddie’s. With all the adoration he’s ever felt for Eddie—enough to make him want to burst with it, enough to warm him, enough to paint him golden—he kisses him. No tongue, just a press of lips. Chapped skin and tiniest bit of crumbs that Eddie, somehow, did not wipe away completely. He kisses just to transfer. A love so all encompassing, it needs nothing more than this, nothing more than softness and warmth and the two of them in a small space. His love for Eddie, kept away and flourishing like greenhouse flowers. And just like those plants, he can share this love, keep it comfortable and year-round.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips. Pulls back slightly to gauge all of Eddie’s face. Adoration gleaming in his chocolate eyes. “I wish I had better words to give you.”

“When I have you in my arms? There’s nothing else that’s better, Steve. I could have you just like this forever, deaf and blind and mute, and I would view it as heaven.”

Steve sniffs, again, unknowingly crying. But Eddie thumbs away his tears as if it’s nothing. And maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t have to worry so much with somebody like Eddie. “You’re a sap,” he gently teases. But then his face gets serious again, tone shifting once more. “You wouldn’t mind that I kept my body like this, though? This genuinely wouldn’t bother you?”

“Chubby chaser,” Eddie states, pointing at himself. “If it was bothersome, ever, to me, you’d have to kill me. Because that definitely wouldn’t be me, babe.”

He smiles, teeth and all. “Good because I…I do like this body a lot, even though it seems like I don’t. It’s just shit I’m working through, y’know? But I like being able to just let go. Be at peace, so you said.”

Eddie hums. Presses his hands into Steve’s back. Kisses him softly, just to kiss and nothing more. “Then just be. Do it for you,” he whispers.

“Okay, Eds. I’ll try.” At that, his stomach grumbles. He chuckles, moment ruined. “We should go get something to eat,” he suggests.

“Yeah? I heard there’s this bag of Ruffles downstairs that your…boyfriend?” Steve nods, answering wordlessly. “That your boyfriend tried to offer up earlier. Maybe we should eat that.”

Steve nods. “We should see how many we can stack on our foreheads. My record is ten.”

“And you say I’m a dork.”

“You are a dork.”

Eddie smiles, lets Steve guide them back downstairs. Murmurs, “And you’re beautiful.”

💕—————💕

[sarahmadisonxoxo]

An idea that  @spectrum-spectre had inspired a scene in the dark pits of my mind.  Soulmate  AU’s in which people see color at the sight of their soulmate. The rules aren’t specific on whether that is only true if the meeting is in person, or if looking at photographs or videos brings on the same effect.  Soulmates AU Part 2 ---------------------------- Steve returns from the kitchen holding a large bowl of popcorn and two cans of coke from the fridge. Dustin’s been staying with him for a while, and as usual their afternoon consisted of watching television until their bodies screamed for sleep.  This particular afternoon Steve let Dustin choose what they’d watch. Dustin was usually left to make the choice simply because Steve wanted him to be comfortable, but it wasn’t something they mentioned. He’d so far been enjoying Dustin’s pick, the MTV music awards. There had been several artist that Steve adored. Tears for Fears. Madonna.  Dustin however was watching for Corroded Coffin, his newest favorite band that he listened to seemingly nonstop these days. The kid was obsessed, but again Steve didn’t complain because his home was Dustin’s home if he accepted it. It was nice to have someone around to liven up the overwhelming emptiness of the Harrington estate.  Steve set the popcorn down on the coffee table, dropping down next to Dustin on the couch, when his eyes came up to see the television screen color burst from the center of his gaze flooding out to adjust his vision until everything settled and grey was changed with vivid colors he’d only heard about in books.  His soulmate... the only issue was the angle of the camera was showing dozen’s of faces. He’d never be able to tell which one of them sparked the change. It was the whole point of it, making finding soulmates easier. Of course Steve would find a way to fuck his up.... he’d never find them. That show was several states away, the likelyhood of ending up in a room with one of them was nearly impossible. Even if he did, now he wouldn’t have a way to tell him who it was.  “ I think I am going to go to bed..” Steve hums.  “ Bed? Steve it’s eight thirty? “  “ Yeah... Work was just a lot today and I guess it’s just hitting me how tired I am” Steve explained.  Dustin didn’t seem to buy it, but he didn’t argue.  “ Okay.. Goodnight man. “  “ Night”  Steve cried his eyes out that night... over someone he didn’t even know.  ----------- “ thanks for driving me Steve.. I can’t believe they are coming Chicago on a day I can actually attend the convention. “ Dustin stood next to him in the line to get in to meet one of the guy’s from Corroded Coffin.. Steve planned on leaving the line before Dustin went behind the curtain, but he didn’t feel like being alone in here. Everyone seemed chill.. He was just feeling overwhelmed.  “ No problem Dustin.”  Slowly the line progressed foward, Steve eventually dropping out to go stand at the edge of the booth to wait. Letting himself get distracted by the excitement of those leaving the booth. Smiling at them as they ran out with their autographed pictures. He caught sight of Eddie.. or at least that’s who he assumed it was with the sign. The guy was pretty. His smile was bright and filled his face, dimples standing out to soften the rest of the edge his clothing might lead you to think he had.  When he heard Dustin’s voice Steve could only smile at the pure joy and excitement of the kid meeting one of his favorite people. He couldn’t remember hearing him so happy about anything other than when he’d finished building his Cerebro last summer.  The curtain opened, Steve’s eyes met Eddie’s for the first time that day as the man was telling Dustin goodbye.  They didn’t make it far from the booth before he heard someone calling Dustin’s name.. them both turning around to find Eddie running toward them.  “ Sorry I didn’t know your name...” Eddie apologized, taking Steve’s hands in his own. A small crowd forming around them with people muttering how Steve was living everyone's dream right now.  “ Steve? Is everything okay man? “ Steve questioned, Eddie’s face falling as he noticed the utter confusion written over Steve’s features.  “ you didn’t see it” Eddie questioned. “ See what?  “ The color? You didn’t. Oh shit. “  “ The color?..” Steve started, his eyes looking off in thought “ Oh... it was you. On the tv.. I must have seen you. “  “ TV? “  “ The MTV Awards...”  “ Steve that was nearly a year ago... you’ve had color for? “  “ Nearly a year yeah...”  “ Oh shit..” Eddie thought allowed, processing that the confusion was because Steve had been seeing color the whole time. “ Can I take you out sometime? You know if you want. I don’t know if you do this whole thing, but I think it would be pretty cool”  “ Eddie”  “ Yeah”  “ I’d love to go out with you sometime”  “ Great” Eddie cheered, a small smile pulling at his lips, offering his sharpie over to Steve. “ just write your number on my arm”  Eddie tugged his sleeve up to give Steve space in a place that could be hidden on his arm. Both of them smiling like fools the entire time.  “ You should get back to your fans.. “  “ Yeah.. I will call you tonight. “  “ I can’t wait” 

[mattzerella-sticks]

halloween, 2024. (ao3 link)

Athena and Bobby host a Halloween party this year and Buck offers to help them get ready for it and tells Eddie he will see him and Chris there. However they're late, and Buck's costume doesn't quite work without the Diazes. When will they arrive? And, when they do, will Buck be happy to see them?

Buck slips mitts over his hands as Bobby’s oven dings over the soft, spectral music pumping throughout the house.

            “I got it!”

A blast of hot air escapes the oven as he opens its door that he doesn’t brace for, that smacks him in the face like an oncoming wave while he takes out trays of finger foods and sets them aside to cool. Pigs in blankets. Pizza muffins. Spanakopita and Chicken tenders.

He spies Chimney out the corner of his eye reaching for a pig in a blanket.

            “No.” He smacks his hand away. “Not until they’re plated.”

            Chimney hisses and clutches his stinging hand to his chest. “I was just getting one for Jee,” he tells Buck. “You know. Your niece. Your hungry, starving niece who’s… wasting away because her cruel uncle took forever getting the food ready?”

Buck looks past Chimney and further into the Grant-Nash household, spotting his sister dressed in the neon pinks, limes, and blues of her Barbie leotard, similar to the Ken one Chimney wears, kneeling as she adjusts the ears of Jee’s Bluey costume.

            “I think Jee doesn’t mind having to wait.”

            “Then what about me?”

            “I think you should take a note or two from your daughter.”

Chimney huffs. He snags a pig in a blanket despite Buck’s warnings and scurries off to hide behind Maddie before Buck slaps him with a mitt.

Hen wanders in a moment later and lifts the brim of her Indiana Jones-style fedora as she scans the crowded counterspace.

She whistles. “Damn Buckley. You feeding a small army here or what?”

“The way our crew packs it in? This won’t even be enough...”

They chuckle while stepping around each other towards opposite ends of the kitchen. Hen grabs another soda from the fridge. He slides chicken tenders onto a waiting serving platter.

She asks if he’s thirsty and Buck shakes his head ‘no’.

            “Sure you don’t want something?” She snaps the tab of her Coke can, tosses it into the recycling bin. “Not even water?”

            “I’ll grab something when I’m done.”

            “When will that be, once the last person’s gone home?”

            “Hardy-har-har.” Buck ducks away, avoiding her attempt to muss up his hair. “I’ll be done in a second, once I’ve restocked the snacks.”

            “You’ve hardly left the kitchen since I got here. It’s not even your party.”

            “No, but I don’t mind helping out,” he says. “Sides, not like Bobby can do much of anything with the costume he’s in.”

Bobby stands, surrounded by a few of their coworkers undoubtedly entranced by his detailed Batman suit. It looks exactly like what Michael Keaton wore in his films with the foam pointed ears, thick latex cowlneck, the black neoprene layered over his body. Athena creeps up behind him in her complementary Catwoman suit, stitched together from an assortment of shiny leather, and drags her nails across Bobby’s bat symbol.

            “Would any of you believe it if I said his first choice in costume was George Clooney’s Batman?”

            “Except I couldn’t find anywhere that would ship a codpiece here in time.”

Nearby laughter startles Buck and, in his shock, he drops a spanakopita. He curses under breath as he bends to pick it up and, without thinking about it for too long, shoves it in his mouth.

Hen sees it all. She arches her brow at him.

            “I’m fine,” he reiterates.

            She snatches the tray from his hands and places it back on the counter. “Go.”

            “But –“

            “No buts. I don’t want to see you in here for the rest of the party.” Then she tags his hip with the butt of her whip. “And go put your damn costume on, too.”

            “My costume is on.”

She scoffs and drags her critical gaze up and down his body in excruciating silence.

            Buck crosses his arms. “It’ll make more sense when Chris and Eddie finally get here.”

            “I’m sure it will,” she says, sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes in response, which earns him a thwack from her whip as she chases him out the kitchen to mingle with the crowd.

It’s not like he had been avoiding this the entire evening, had been preparing more and more fixings and snacks to pass the time since Eddie texted him five minutes after the party started, three hours after Buck left to help Bobby and Athena with party preparations, warning that he would be late, that – despite them being roommates and spending weeks discussing their Halloween costumes, arguing about them, compromising – there was an issue with Christopher’s. But maybe Buck was conscious of everyone’s eyes on him, how their faces scrunched in confusion trying to guess his costume, wondering if he even had a costume on like Hen had, and when he finally explained their expressions went blank. They then muddled through some short reply before lapsing into an awkward silence as both thought of some new topic for conversation. Maybe it was easier staying in the kitchen until Eddie and Chris arrived.

Hen won’t let him.

She corrals him over towards Karen, May, and the crew’s latest probie Fernanda chatting near the staircase. Karen spots him first and deftly draws a toy blaster from its holster and aims for him. She fires. It whirls and trills and lights up.

            “I shot first.”

            “Don’t you always.” Hen wraps her arm around Karen’s shoulders and kisses the crown of her head. “My sweet Nerf herder.”

            “Oh Doctor Jones…”

Buck trades glances with May and Fernanda, all three of them biting back smiles. When they’ve calmed down, Buck turns to better face them.

            May lifts her glass in greeting. “Nice to finally see you out of kitchen, Buck.”

            “Well, someone has to make sure everyone’s fed.”

            “I thought that was Bobby’s job,” Fernanda asks.

            May leans in close and whispers, badly, “Dad wanted to cook, but Buck booted him from the kitchen the fourth time he tripped over his cape.”

            “It’s a walking fire hazard and he should know better.”

            “It’s a good costume, though,” Fernanda says. “Makes me feel like I didn’t put in enough effort…”

May disagrees. She tells Fernanda her witch costume is amazing, much better than her witch costume. Fernanda says the opposite. Buck wants to ask if they had planned to both be witches for tonight’s party, or if it was coincidental they wore (what seemed like almost exact from the traffic cone hat right down to the cobweb skirt) costumes.

He doesn’t say anything about their costumes in hopes they don’t mention his.

He’s not that lucky.

            “What about your costume Buck?” May asks. “Are you going to go put it on?”

            “Oh – well… about that.” Buck regrets not taking a drink now, so his hands could fiddle with it rather than dance around lamely in the air, off-beat to the music. “I’m kinda in my costume.”

            “You are?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Who are you supposed to be?”

            “I’m –“

Buck’s phone vibrates. He reaches for it as there’s a knock on the door. He unlocks it and reads Eddie’s message while Ravi, closest to the door, moves to open it. Buck hears Ravi greet Eddie and Christopher and lets his tension melt away in his next breath.

            “One sec,” he says, “you’ll totally get it once I’m standing next to Eddie.”

Eddie is not wearing the costume they agreed he’d wear.

            “What happened?” a scowling Buck asks, “Why are you in the trench coat and wings?”

            “Long story.”

Ravi lifts his shades, glancing between them. He hitches his boogie board underarm and jerks his thumb inside.

            “I’m just gonna go… get back to the party.”

They release him. Eddie maneuvers the tiny wings through the threshold and shuts the door behind him. The black crepe paper and glitter feathers look ridiculous on him, because they weren’t meant for Eddie. Buck made them with Christopher in mind.

            “We both agreed,” Buck says, stepping into Eddie’s orbit to deny prying ears any chance of overhearing them, “that since neither of us could agree who’d be Cas, neither of us gets to be Cas.”

            “I know.” Eddie lets loose a long-drawn sigh that sounds far too rehearsed for Buck’s liking. “But at the last second Chris said he wanted to be Sam.”

            “Is that true?” Buck looks to Chris. “Did you want to be Sam?”

Chris grins past a curtain of cheap bangs off the dollar-store wig Eddie was supposed to have worn.

            “He really wanted to be Sam,” Eddie insists.

            “Did you?”

            “Dad said if I let him be Cas, he’d buy me the new Battle Royale game.”

            “Chris!”

            “What? You didn’t say I couldn’t tell him…”

Buck pins Eddie to the door with his glare, its heat burning stronger than the ovens. Eddie flushes almost instantly, a noticeable sheen of sweat dripping from his forehead, down his face, and into the collar of his starched white Oxford shirt.

            “That’s a dirty trick you pulled there, Diaz. I thought you were better than that.”

            “Look, I was desperate. I didn’t want to be Sam.”

            “You lost the coin toss fair and square. That meant you had to be Sam!”

            “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Eddie says. He presses his hands to Buck’s chest, as if to push him away, only he runs them across the wrinkles of Buck’s plaid shirt. “You like Dean. You should be thrilled to be Dean.”

            “Yeah, I like Dean,” Buck says. “But I like Cas more.”

            “I like Cas more than you,” he argues. “I should get to be him. Besides, I’m more like him anyway.”

            “The hell you are!”

Chris ambles down the staircase while Buck and Eddie argue in front of the entire party.

Hen and Karen drift closer to Chimney and Maddie for a better view of their friends’ spat.

            “What does this make it now?” he asks her, “Their fourth or their fifth couple’s costume?”

            “Sixth. They dressed as Crockett and Tubbs for your bachelor party.”

            “Did they?”

            “It wasn’t that cute,” Karen says. “Buck’s jacket didn’t fit, and the shoulder blades made it look like he had no neck.”

            Maddie agrees. “It’s a good thing it got ruined.”

Fernanda softly gasps from behind them as she recognizes their costumes.

            “Oh, they’re those guys from that CW show. The boyfriends.”

[scarystoriesfromthegayside]

Sk8er Boi

Scott and I have been friends since meeting each other in the third grade. It was summer after graduation when our relationship took an unexpected turn. You see we loved to skate and one morning we skated after our parents had left for the day. I then landed hard and my foot started to get sore. We entered Scott’s house after, I sat on the couch while Scott grabbed 2 cokes from the fridge. He sat next to me.

“Fuck man,” I said. “My foot hurts.”

“Bring them here.” Scott said. We were quite comfortable with each other and I knew Scott had strong hands. I laid my feet on his lap and he took off my shoes. Scott did have strong hands and they making my feet so much better. Then Scott looked at me and I looked back. There was something in those eyes that screamed hunger. Then he placed his nose on the big toe of my left foot. He sniffed and closed his eyes, taking in the scent of my socks and feet.

“What are you doing?” I asked quietly.

“Something I wanted to do for a long time,” Scott said with a growl in his voice.

And I let him.

He peeled off my left sock and took the big toe into his mouth. The feel of his saliva made my dick jump and I gasped. He took more as he went along. Taking his tongue in between each toe. He growled as he did this, and making sure to give the other foot the same treatment. I rubbed my bone and moaned loud as he licked up the shaft of my foot.

“I’m so hard, Scott,” I moaned.

Just then Scott grabbed my bone and stroked it in through my shorts. He peeled them down along with my briefs. My dick slung free and hit my stomach. Scott grabbed my dick and licked all the way up my shaft and to the slit of my head. Then he swallowed all the way down to my dark jungle of pubes. His motions increased and suddenly my dick was so wet. I moaned loud as Scott kept growling and moaning while he sucked.

“Fuck Scott,” I moaned. “That feels so good.”

The Scott stopped and I was disappointed but then he jumped up and stripped his shirt, revealing his toned body. He stripped his shorts and briefs down to show his hard dick. He was beautiful naked. He took his shoes and socks off, beautiful feet as well. I peeled my shirt off as well. He crawled back on top and sat on top of me and then grabbed my dick. The other hand he spat in it and then went towards my mouth where I spat in it as well. He then placed it behind him. He motions my dick and my head was right at his entrance. Then he sat back more and I felt my dick go inside of him. He moaned loud but was still going down more until I was deep into him. He sat there looking at me while his ass squeezed my cock. We both moaned as he started making his body motion. I felt my dick going in and out.

“Oh my god, you feel so good,” I moaned.

Then Scott kept going faster and faster. Each thrust was a moan louder. He took my neck into his hands and we both looked at each other in the eyes as I fucked him.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Scott said. “It was worth the fucking wait.”

I grabbed him to pull him down to my neck and I thrusted harder into him. He screamed into my ear but I didn’t care. It was fuel to go even faster in him. And then I felt it. I was gonna explode.

“Oh Scott,” I moaned out. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Please come baby,” Scott screamed into my ear. “Fill me up.”

I screamed loud as my come spewed inside of Scott. Scott lifted himself up, both of sweaty as hell. Then Scott sat there jerking his dick. A minute later and Scott was screaming and coming all over my body and on my chin. All while my dick was still inside of him. Scott went down to lick the come off my chin and then kissed my mouth. The taste was exquisite and I was kissing my best friend. I just fucked my best friend.

“I can get used to that,” I said.

“Me too,” Scott said.

From that day we couldn’t keep our hands off each other

[babydollmarauders]

have you done lovie + jack headcanons??? if not i would love to see some!!! <3

i have not! and i’m ngl, i’ve never done headcanons, so i had to ask the gc how to do them— so i hope i haven’t failed you with these!

this is so late and i’m so sorry. this has been sitting in my drafts for so long now and i just remembered about it.

on Lovie and Jack’s first real date, they went to the drive-in, and Jack spilled his coke on her top. he thought it ruined his chances, but Lovie just laughed and stole the hoodie that she knew was under his passenger seat.

Lovie’s lockscreen was a picture of her and Jack after one of his USA games, all the way until El was born! then it switched to a picture of Jack holding El to his chest, doing skin time. it’s still her lockscreen to this day.

we all know Jack calls her “lovie” , but from that, she started calling him “love” and they both call El “lovely”. so it’s a family of love nicknames.

a few months into their engagement, Lovie was dress shopping with Ellen, and thought she found her dress, so she took a picture. later that day, she accidentally sent the picture to Jack instead of the selfie she took of her and Ellen out to lunch. Lovie proceeded to freak out for DAYS, thinking that she accidentally showed jack her wedding dress before the wedding. which prompted her to drag Ellen and Quinn into a different dress store one day while they were shopping, which led to her finding her the dress she absolutely fell in love with and ended up actually being her wedding dress.

Quinn once smacked 17 year old Lovie on the back of the head after seeing her cooing from afar over Jack playing with his little cousin. Quinn told her “don’t even think about it. you’re still teens.” to which she replied “i wasn’t thinking about it!” … she was definitely thinking about it.

when they first moved to Jersey, Lovie was still technically 17, so she felt awkward sitting with the other WAGS. after she opened up to Jack about her nerves, he let it slip to Bratt. it was Jesper’s girlfriend, Nicole, who took Lovie under her wing and made her feel comfortable, because “just because you’re young, doesn’t mean you aren’t a WAG. in fact, it may even be best, because we get to be there for you and teach you the ropes and how to deal with it all.”

Jack called her in tears on his first roadie because he was disappointed in how he played and overwhelmed with it all, and he just really wanted his Lovie in that moment. they ended up staying on facetime the entire night, even once they fell asleep.

Jack and Lovie’s first time was when his parents and Luke once went on a last minute trip to visit family and left him home alone because he had a game. afterwards, Lovie felt so guilty that she had come over and done something so scandalous while his parents weren’t home, that she called Quinn and confessed it all. Quinn and Jack both had to reassure her that she wasn’t a bad person for simply taking advantage of the alone time.

Lovie was a dancer from the time she could walk. Jack was able to go to a few of her recitals, and every time, he would bring her a giant bouquet of Lilies, her favorite flower, and was always put into awe of how graceful she was when dancing. especially because she’s a pretty clumsy person any other time.

when Jack and Lovie found out they were having a girl, they had to do a coin toss to decide if Jack would try and convince El to play hockey, or if Lovie would put her in ballet. Jack won, but as soon as El was born, they both scrapped it and decided that they’ll teach her the basics of both and she would be able to choose whatever she wanted to do, even if it’s not hockey or ballet.

Jack pre-cuts cucumbers for Lovie every morning if he can, because they’re her favorite snack and he knows that it can sometimes be hard for her to get a chance to make something to eat with El attached to her hip. so, he tries to have them cut and ready for her so that she can just take the container out of the fridge and not have to actually do any prep. sometimes she drizzles them in italian dressing, but most times she just shakes them in tajin.

[reysdriver]

Cookie Dough | R.L.

You and remus go home early from a party — dealer!remus x fem!reader fluff

warnings: weed and alcohol

words: 0.7k

The music was loud in the living room of the house, and the decibel count only dropped slightly when you went into other rooms. 

You and your boyfriend both stayed sober, too stubborn to let the other not drink just for them. Well, you stayed mostly sober. The two of you shared one little beer. It was barely anything, but neither of you were willing to have any more at this party. 

Everyone around you was drunk, so you stayed in the company of Remus. But he was your favourite person, so you didn't mind it one bit. 

He left you alone for just a minute to get another drink, and you watched Sirius  embarrassing himself as he tried to drunkenly flirt with a man he had just met. 

"Two cokes." He said, and you thanked him quietly while your eyes stayed fixed on your friend on the couch. 

"What are you looking at, love?"

You pointed to Sirius, then you both watched him. 

"He's such an idiot." Remus said with a chuckle. 

"But he's the most entertaining part of this party." You said. "Apart from you, of course." 

"Do you want to get out of here?" 

You took a sip of your pop and pondered the proposition. "No, it's alright. We have friends here, the party isn't too bad." 

He laughed again. "It'll be a lot more fun if you stopped being all stubborn and just had a real drink." 

"I could say the same thing to you. I don't want you to have to put in all that effort to take care of me when we get home."

"So you do want to go home." He said, like he just proved you so wrong. 

You rolled your eyes, then kissed him on the cheek. "We have to say goodbye to everyone." 

"They're all piss drunk, they won't even remember. Come on, we can go home, smoke a little, and watch any movie you want."

You wanted to seem hesitant, but the proposal sounded so much better than the current party. You took another sip of your drink, then hung your arms over Remus' shoulders. 

"Do I have to pay?" You asked him, even though you already knew the answer. "It is your business, after all." 

"You never have to pay, pretty girl. It's on the house."

"If it's free, I want the good stuff."

"It's all good stuff."

You raised a cocky eyebrow at him. You've definitely heard him talk about giving crappy weed to the people he didn't like. 

"Okay, fine, it's mostly all good stuff. But it's always top notch when it's for you." 

"Do we have any cookie dough at home?" You asked, preparing for later when you get high and snacky. 

"We'll buy some on the way. Three tubes so we can save the rest."

You held out a hand for him to take, which he gladly did, and you left your friend's house. 

The walk to your flat was only a few blocks away, so you would be home in no time, even walking. About halfway there, you stopped at a small shop and headed straight for the fridge at the back. 

You grabbed three tubes of chocolate chip cookie dough and brought it up to the counter. 

It was quite late, so the only other person there was the cashier, and he didn't look like he wanted to spark up a conversation. 

Without even a word in the exchange, Remus handed him three coins, and you grabbed the snacks and walked out with your boyfriend once the clerk dropped the coins in the register. 

It just took a few more minutes to get home. Once you were back, you took off your shoes and laid back on the couch. 

"Which would you like first?" Remus asked, leaning down by you and holding up a tube of cookie dough and a pre-rolled blunt from his living room stash. 

"The cookie dough is for later." You told him. 

He slumped down on the other side of the couch, and pulled you into his chest. He used a lighter decorated with floral stickers to light the blunt, and held it up to your mouth. You took one puff, and he copied right after. 

With another smile gracing your face, you kissed Remus softly. "You were right, this is much better than that party."