#so I didn’t make it to the grocery store

[hotshotsxyz]

living lies and compromise

(8b spec) (buddie) (879 words) spoilers for 8x08! set a few days after eddie returns from texas and i still managed to make it angsty :) i bet you'll never guess what band i stole the title from

The knock on Buck’s door isn’t entirely unexpected. He doesn’t know what to do with it, though, doesn’t know how to exist in this strange liminal space where Eddie’s back but everything is still different.

A few months ago, Eddie would’ve used his key and walked straight in. A few months ago, Buck would’ve welcomed him with open arms. As it stands, he hesitates. Just for a moment, but—

It’s been a long time since Buck was hesitant with Eddie. He hates it.

He opens the door, and the smile he greets Eddie with feels brittle and fake.

“Hey, man,” Buck says, trying trying trying to make it come out right. He hears it, though—it doesn’t sound the same.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. He hoists a six pack in the air, and if Buck squints he can almost pretend this is exactly what it used to be. That they’re what they used to be.

“Come—come in,” Buck invites. He can’t remember the last time either of them waited for permission like this.

Eddie swallows visibly and steps into the loft for the first time since—god, he’s not actually sure. Right after Halloween, maybe?

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He drops the beer on the counter but makes no move to grab one.

Silence stretches between them. It’s not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it’s also not the kind that falls when everything that needs to be said is out in the open and everything left can wait.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Eddie says finally, achingly quiet.

Buck shakes his head. “I am, of course I’m happy to see you,” he says.

“Please don’t do that.” Eddie’s eyes are wide and sincere, and if Buck’s not careful—

“Eddie,” he says, pleading, “I am, you have no idea.”

“Then why…” He gestures vaguely at the space between them. Why the distance? Why the reticence? Why aren’t they falling together the way they always have?

Buck bites his lip and steps into Eddie’s space to grab a beer for himself. He retreats, but he doesn’t go far.

He pops the cap off and sighs. “You left,” he says simply.

Eddie stumbles back against the counter. “But I came back,” he says. “And I thought you understood.”

Buck offers him a sad little smile. “I did. I do. But—coming back wasn’t the plan.”

“Did you… not want me to?” Eddie asks, small and a tiny bit incredulous.

“No,” Buck says, watching as Eddie’s disbelief turns to hurt. “I didn’t want you to come back. I needed you to.”

A wounded noise escapes Eddie’s lips. “I did,” he says.

“What about next time?” Buck asks. He wishes he didn’t sound so raw and ragged, but it hardly matters when Eddie’s the one listening.

“What?” He breathes, punched out like a cough.

Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder, out the window and into the vague glow of night in Los Angeles. He takes a swig of his beer.

“I need you, Eddie, I still—the whole time you were gone it felt like—like I was missing a limb. And I can’t—I can’t keep needing you like this, not if I don’t get to keep you,” Buck admits. “So I just… I have to figure out how to stop. But I can’t do that when you’re here.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says desperately. “Please don’t. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

“I’m not sure I know how to survive believing that again,” Buck replies.

Eddie takes a step forward, close enough now that Buck can feel his breath ghosting across his skin.

“Look at me?” he asks.

Buck’s never been able to deny him much of anything.

“I kept looking for you. I’d see something funny and I’d turn, because I wanted to see your reaction. The front door would open, and I kept thinking you were going to be the one to walk through it. Hell, every time I went to the grocery store I wanted to call you to make sure everything we needed was on the list.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

His hand drifts toward Buck’s shoulder, just like it always seems to, but this time it doesn’t stop. Eddie reaches until his fingers are resting against Buck’s neck and his thumb is slowly sweeping across his jaw.

“You need me?” he asks.

Buck nods.

“Good,” Eddie says in a rush of air. “Because I need you too, okay? So please don’t stop, please don’t pull away. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump. He takes the last step forward and pulls Buck into a tight hug.

There’s this thing Buck’s been trying not to look at. It’s been growing in size, taking up more and more of his field of vision since the moment Eddie left for Texas. It’s been fuzzy and hard to discern, difficult to ignore but easy to avoid putting a name to. As he melts into Eddie’s arms, though, everything comes into sharp relief.

It’s need. It’s want. It’s love.

And the thing is, Buck knows how this goes. But what the hell? It’ll be a privilege, getting his heart broken by Eddie Diaz.

He clings a little tighter.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s Extreme Patience

Marvel is so patient. Like actually. None of the Justice League have even seen him lose his patience. They’ve seen Superman, Batman Wonder Woman, even Martian Manhunter, get to the point of lashing out. But Marvel? Nope, nada, nothing.

And by nothing, they mean nothing. Green Lantern once watched Flash ask Cap the same, quite frankly stupid, question six times. He’s still wondering how Marvel hadn’t slapped the shit out of Wally by the third. But no, Marvel answered each time with a smile on his face. GL even called Martian Manhunter over and asked him to see if he could sense any anger, or at least annoyance from Marvel.

MM: “I don’t wish to do this-”

GL: “I’ll buy you a bunch of chocolate later!”

MM: *sighs but does it anyways* “He’s not exhibiting any signs of annoyance.” *rubs head because Marvel’s intense ahh emotions are enough to give him a headache*

GL: “Damn…” *looks back Marvel in wonder, watching Flash ask him the same question again*

The thing is though, little do the JL know, Marvel tweaks out a lot. Like once per day. It’s just that they’ve never caught him, and that the one crash out per day is normally reserved for Billy. His tiny crash outs are always for the smallest things too. Like when the people in front of him are walking too slow. Or when a line in the grocery store is too long. Or when someone steps on the back of his shoe and causes that abhorrent thing that makes it get under your heel. He just needs to do it. Thats the worst part. If he doesn’t have his daily small crash out, he’ll actually consider listening to the DTC and end up pushing the Watchtower into the sun all because his cape got snagged in between one of the doors.

But one day… One day, he hadn’t had his little daily crash out. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t had anything worthy of it. Maybe it was that he wanted to stop his little daily ritual. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even remember how he got into this predicament in the first place. All he knows is that he’s now staring at a shattered counter and a bloody knuckle. Don’t worry though, his knuckle isn’t bloody because he hurt it on the counter, no no, it’s because he did that thing where your bite your knuckle to prevent yourself from literally convulsing in rage to the point where you look like you’re having a seizure. So yeah, Billy was at a loss. He’s too broke to pay for this counter, and he doesn’t really want to explain why broke the counter, not he remembers. So honest to the Gods, he just leaves.

Marvel: *clears his throat, looks around, wipes his knuckle on his shirt, and walks away humming the intro tune from his radio show like nothing happened*

Mercury: *sounds like he’s trying to muffle wheezing laughs*

Solomon: *shaking his head in disappointment at Mercury, not Billy*

In Solomon’s point of view, let the little orphan boy have a little tweak out session once a day. It’s better than vaping.

Anyways, not even a couple minutes later, another hero went to the kitchen and was greeted with the shattered countertop, along with a little bit of blood. When they asked around, no one fessed up. They didn’t even consider asking Marvel because he’s not the type to lose his temper. When the footage was reviewed, they were sorely surprised.

Also, the part about Billy’s intro tune from his radio show is a reference to @hermesserpent-stuff’s post about Billy’s radio segue sounds I love their idea. They’re super creative :D

[delulupunk]

How the batboys would react to shopping!

Quick A/N: Thank you for all of the support! I appreciate every single one of you!! I have also added Duke just send an ask if you’d like him to also be included in my previous posts and I’ll make it happen.

Dick Grayson

You would both spend an equal amount doing shopping for yourselves. This means you’d also help Dick with his shopping too.

Dick would make no secret of trying to find clothes that match the ones you just bought- he’ll hold up your new dress to a jacket in the store, to check the shades of colour are the same.

You’d most likely spend a long time at the shopping centre if you both love shopping. However if you aren’t the biggest fan of shopping then you’d still spend a fair amount of time shopping, just because Dick likes it so much.

Dick is one of the best men to go shopping with opinion wise. He gives the best advice and slowly steers you away from the less than attractive pieces of clothing. You’ll find you have plenty of fully planned outfits by the end of the trip.

The time you’d go shopping is the morning- Dick would make an entire day out of the spree, which means you’d wrap it up between late noon or evening time.

Jason Todd

Unless you’re shopping for something Jason has an interest in, like books, he won’t be contented following you around like a guard dog. So you’d have to be sneakier with planning your shopping trips.

You’d have to ease him into the day gently by shopping for books and then going to a shop you’d want to go to. Then you’d have a meal and continue shopping, ensuring you drop in shops you’ll know he wants to go to so he doesn’t get bored.

Your plan works, but Jason gets wise and realises. He pretends not to notice, because he adores the fact that you’re not selfish. You make the day fun for him as well and act on what he wants to do.

The shopping day would most likely begin at noon, because Jason’s tired from patrol the night beforehand and has slept in.

If you tell him how excited you are about the trip though, he’ll make the extra effort to get up earlier and show he’s more enthusiastic.

Tim Drake

Tim’s not afraid to spend money on you and frequently you’ll find you don’t even need to go shopping. Since as soon as you mention one little thing you need, it’ll be right in your hands. He isn’t wrapped around your little finger though, but he wants to communicate to you that he listens to what you say.

Tim’s more of a business now, fun later type of man, you’ll go past shops that perhaps aren’t the highest on your hit list and he’ll grill you to make sure you don’t need anything from them. This leads to you going grocery shopping during your shopping trips.

He’ll hold some of your bags for you though, but only if you really need him too. He’s a firm believer that if he didn’t buy it, he shouldn’t have to deal with it.

The shopping trip is usually in the evening time, since he likes to do them after work. Nevertheless he’ll try and be sneaky occasionally by taking you earlier (this is when you end up going grocery shopping).

Damian Wayne

Damian genuinely doesn’t want to go. He’ll tell you to just go with your friends instead. So you’ll have to be cunning to try and inadvertently get him to agree to go shopping with you.

After a date you’ll make sure you walk a specific way past a store you want to go to. When you mention it Damian begrudgingly takes you, because it would be counterintuitive not to take you when you were so close to the store.

You two go to stores sparingly, it’s not something Damian finds necessary- the internet can be just as useful for shopping in his mind. Although you do argue that you can’t try clothes on- which circles back to the ‘just go with you friends’ solution.

Duke Thomas

Duke absolutely loves going shopping with you. He enjoys walking with you and going window shopping. Sometimes the pair of you will go on impromptu shopping sprees just because you saw something you liked in a window.

Your shopping days are well planned out and he’ll be more than happy to take the day off patrol just to be with you- instead he’ll go patrolling in the night.

Duke loves dragging you around various shops and explaining all his interests in intricate details. He’ll have a massive smile on his face the whole time, as he holds up various things to you and explains their relevance.

Duke is more than happy to wait outside changing rooms for you, no matter how long it takes. He’ll try and be nice about all the clothes you show him- if he doesn’t like any he’ll ask you nicely why you want it.

[daisymbin]

"you used to love me " with mingyu x fem! Reader💗

of course! thank you for requesting 🥰

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

second chance prompt #44: "you used to love me."

mingyu had gotten used to the coldness in your voice. it wasn't always like this—there was a time when the sound of your laughter had been his favorite thing, when your touch had felt like home. but ever since the breakup, you had a way of cutting him down with sharp words and pointed looks, leaving him wondering where everything had gone wrong.

he didn't know why you hated him now. or at least, why you acted like you did.

“don’t you have anything better to do than linger around here?” you snapped one evening, your tone biting as mingyu hovered near your desk at the shared workspace for a project.

his brows furrowed. “i was just asking if you needed help. no need to bite my head off.”

“well, i don’t,” you replied curtly, your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you.

he clenched his jaw, forcing a polite nod. “got it.”

it wasn’t the first time you’d brushed him off like this. at a mutual friend's party, you'd made a snide comment about how “clingy” he used to be, loud enough for him to hear. when you’d run into him at the grocery store, you muttered something about how “some people just don’t know when to let go” before walking away without so much as a glance back.

but this time, it was different.

the final blow came on a late afternoon, after yet another tense encounter. mingyu had tried to make small talk, asking about your day, and you snapped, “why do you even care? you didn’t care enough when it actually mattered.”

his chest tightened, the words hitting him harder than he expected. for a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parting as if to say something but no sound coming out. finally, his voice broke through, soft and pained.

“you used to love me, you know,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “you don’t have to be like that... you don't have to be so mean.”

your breath caught, and for a moment, you faltered, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “that’s in the past.”

he didn’t reply, just nodded slowly, shoulders heavy as he turned and walked away.

a few days later, you found yourself at the park for an outdoor charity event, mingyu nearby as usual, volunteering for the setup. you tried to avoid him, keeping your distance as much as possible.

but then you heard the commotion.

a crash, followed by a string of startled voices. you whipped around to see mingyu sprawled on the ground near a pile of fallen equipment, holding his arm awkwardly.

“gyu-ah!” you shouted as panic coarses through you, rushing over before you even realized what you were doing. he groaned, trying to sit up, but you dropped to your knees beside him, your hands trembling as they hovered over his arm.

“what were you thinking?” you snapped, but your voice cracked with worry. “you could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

“im fine,” he said weakly, offering you a small, strained smile. “just a scratch.”

“a scratch?” you repeated, your voice rising. “mingyu, you’re bleeding!”

tears pricked your eyes as you fussed over him, checking his arm for more injuries. mingyu's eyebrows burrowed as he watched you in silence, his heart twisting at the sight of your panic.

“you’re always so reckless,” you muttered, your voice breaking as you pressed a clean cloth to his arm to stop the bleeding. “why do you always have to act like nothing matters? why can't you take better care of yourself? you scared me.”

he blinked, taken aback. “you were scared?”

“of course i was scared!” you snapped, tears spilling over now. “do you think i’d just stand there and do nothing if something happened to you? i—”

you stopped, realizing what you were about to say. your hands froze, still pressed against his arm, and you refused to meet his gaze.

“you still care about me,” mingyu said softly, his voice filled with quiet wonder.

you swallowed hard, shaking your head. “i... i don’t...”

“you do,” he pressed, leaning closer despite the pain in his arm. “you wouldn’t be like this if you didn’t.”

you bit your lip, fresh tears welling up. “what do you want me to say?” you asked in exasperation and frustration, your shoulders shaking. “what do you want me to do? why can't you just.. why do you keep making me worry? why can't you just stay away? why do you have to make moving on from you so hard? why cant you just let me be mean and hate you? its so much easier to just hate you than—”

mingyu could only watch helplessly as you choked over your sobs. his heart broke at your words, guilt washing over him. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “for everything. for making you feel like you had to do that just to protect yourself. i... i didn't mean to," mingyu says defeatedly, "i know i probably don’t deserve it, but.. i miss us.”

your breath hitched, and he reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours. “i don’t want to hurt you again,” he continued, his voice soft and vulnerable. “but if there’s even the smallest part of you that’s willing to try again... i’d do anything to show you how much i still love you.”

you looked up at him, his sincerity clear in his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, the wall you’d built around your heart began to crack.

“i hate you,” you muttered as your fist balled and hits his chest, "i hate you so much," your voice trembling as the tears now fall freely.

still, mingyu smiled through his pain, knowing what this means. “i love you,” he confesses, "I love you so much,"

"I hate you," you repeat, your fist going up to hit his chest again.

this time, mingyu catches you by your wrist, "you hate me as much as you love me, sweetheart." at this, your eyes only waters more because you know he's right; you dont actually hate him.

mingyu's grip on your wrist loosened, his hand sliding down to intertwine with yours. his gaze softened, but he didn't let go, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

"you hate me, but you're still here," he murmured, his voice trembling as he let out a bitter laugh. "you’re crying because of me, you’re still holding on, too."

your lips parted to argue, but nothing came out. the truth sat heavy in the air between you.

"stop it," you whispered instead, your voice wavering.

he shook his head, his free hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear that had slipped down. "i love you," he says again softly, his thumb lingering on your skin. "i’m not asking you to forgive me right away. i’m not even asking you to love me again—"

"gyu-," you interrupted, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice.

he smiled faintly, shaking his head. "no, just let me say this," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "all I'm asking for is a chance. a chance to show you that i can do better. that i can be the man you deserve to have by your side."

your heart pounded in your chest, his words hitting you with a force you weren’t prepared for. your walls wavered, the cracks growing wider with each syllable he spoke.

"and if you can’t," mingyu continued, his voice breaking slightly, "if you can’t give me that chance, i’ll walk away. i’ll leave you alone for good if that’s what you want."

you stared at him, your throat tight as tears threatened to spill again. his honesty was overwhelming, and for a moment, you hated how much you wanted to believe him.

"you used to love me," he voice soft & hoarse, it almost broke you. "and i know i messed it up. but if there’s even the smallest part of you that still does, just... let me fix it."

the silence between you felt deafening. your heart screamed at you to take the risk, but your head begged you to protect yourself.

you searched his face, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was him—raw, open, and so clearly in love with you that it hurt.

"you’re an idiot," you muttered, your voice breaking, but your grip on his hand didn’t falter.

mingyu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his lips curving into a relieved, almost disbelieving smile. "i missed hearing you say that," he said softly, pulling you closer.

you rolled your eyes, a weak laugh escaping you despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. "don’t push your luck."

"never," he said, his voice full of quiet determination as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. "i promise."

[jjonglemons]

all my works can be found here

Eyes On You

my friend requested i write a dom/stalker yeosang fanfic so enjoy my freaktiny ;)

Summary: yeosang can't stay away from you, nor can you stay away from him. you both feel crazy, so what else is there to do but feel it together?

WC: 1.8k

Tags: smut, cnc, stalking, toxic, stalker!yeosang, victim!reader, dom!yeosang, sub!reader, fem!reader, dark, some dacryphila, praise, dirty talk, unprotected sex (don't)

There you were. 

You were sitting in the corner of a local cafe, sipping on what seemed to be a cappuccino whilst you typed away on your laptop. Ever so often, you’d let out an exasperated sigh, slamming your fingers onto the keys out of frustration. You buried your head into your hands before regaining composure and continuing your work.

Yeosang sat quietly in the opposite corner, sneaking glances at you throughout reading a novel. He tried to make it as subtle as possible, yet wanted to somehow indicate to you that he was watching. Truthfully, you had noticed him looking at you nearly every time you were both in the cafe, but never had the courage to actually confront him.

In all honesty, you were simultaneously terrified and thrilled by the thought of Yeosang constantly watching you. Following you. You’d never said a word to this man in your life, but the way his hair draped over his eyes while the little bits of chocolate peeked through the gaps and met yours made you forget the fact he had been stalking you for nearly two weeks.

It all started on a Monday evening on your walk home from work. You stopped by the grocery store on your way back, feeling moved to buy a bouquet of flowers to decorate your home. You’d been so drained from your week that you were in need of something to brighten up your space and curb your bad mood. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, bumping into a body as you turned the corner to reach the cashier. You looked up, taking in the face of who was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“No worries,” the man chuckled, stepping aside so you could pass.

You felt his eyes on you as you quickly shuffled passed him to the counter. You could sense the man’s gaze boring into the back of your head the entire checkout process.

“Thank you,” you smiled at the cashier, trying to hide your growing nervousness as you hastily grabbed the bouquet and exited the shop.

Yeosang was careful to stay at a distance as he trailed behind you. He watched the way your body swayed in the dimly lit streets, the way your ass bounced with each step. He couldn’t help but salivate at the thought and gripping it as he pounded his cock into you while you screamed for more. 

Once you reached your apartment, you glanced nervously at your surroundings before speedily going inside and slamming the door shut. Whoever this man was, he wanted you to know he was there; that he was watching. But he also wanted you to be somewhat oblivious to his presence. He certainly did a good job of maintaining that ideal, because that’s exactly how you felt.

The cycle continued from then on. He memorised every route you took home and to run errands, when you would take your lunch break, and even when you’d step outside onto your balcony to partake in a joint. 

Yeosang felt insane. No, he didn’t feel insane. He was insane. Never in his life had he been so obsessed with someone that he stalked their every move. He couldn’t stop. God, he was so enamoured by the thrill of it all. 

And you were, too.

On your way out of the cafe, you shot him a nearly unnoticeable, needy look as you gently bit your bottom lip, purposefully manoeuvring your step in a way that would have him drooling. Yeosang let out a short breath, eyes widening as he watched your thighs exit the building.

Fuck, he thought, I’m really going to fucking lose it if she keeps this up. 

You wanted him to lose it. Perversely, you wanted him to break into your apartment in the eerie hours of the night and slam you against the wall, hands pressed against your dripping cunt. 

He could picture it, too; your pretty little tears running down your face as you tried to keep him out. But he’d win, and he’d take you until you came undone beneath him as his cock filled every inch of you. You’d moan his name over and over as he thrusted with no remorse, releasing himself into your beautiful cunt. 

That night as you stood on the balcony, you peered at the corner where he always sat. There was a bench right across from the small community park beside your apartment complex. You took a puff of your joint and giggled as he continued to “read” his novel, knowing full well it was just a cover up so he wouldn’t look suspicious to the locals. At a certain point, his eyes met yours. You swallowed hard, shocked that you could sense each other’s gaze despite the grand distance between you two.

A few moments later, he stood up and began to approach your apartment building.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, quickly snuffing out the half-smoked joint, and shakily going back inside of your apartment. You closed the curtains, still being sure to take a few peeks here and there to see where he was. 

You saw him standing at the door, and his eyes met yours again for a brief moment. You closed the gap of the curtain quickly, startled and fell to the floor. Your heart was pounding and your hands began to sweat. You were horrified, yet somehow aroused by the whole ordeal, your throbbing cunt beginning to create a pool in your panties.

“Love,” you heard the man sing from the floor below, “I’d really like to see you.”

Your mind was pulling you into two different directions. No, you screamed in your head, he’s a stalker, y/n, what’s wrong with you? You stood up from the floor, slowly making your way towards the buzzer to let him in. 

“I must be crazy,” you said to yourself, “I can’t believe I’m actually about to let him in.”

And you did. You pressed open the front door, seconds later hearing a knock at the door of your apartment unit.

“Love,” the man sang again, “please open up.”

He was enjoying the game. The chase was driving him mad, and you were the guide. Silently, you turned the locks on your door, gently stepping away towards the center of the room.

“Y-you can come in now,” you exhaled shakily, bracing yourself for his entrance.

The door knob clicked, the slight creaking of the door becoming drowned out by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Instantly, you found yourself running towards it in an attempt to shut it in his face and lock it again. 

“Don’t be so mean,” he instigated, fighting against your resistance on the other side, “I know you want to play.”

“N-no please,” you began to cry. The crazy part was that you had begun to stop putting force against the door, allowing him the opportunity to fully enter your apartment. You stumbled back towards the center of the room again, standing completely still as he came in and shut the door behind him.

“Finally,” the man breathed, slowly approaching you. You stood frozen as his hands feathered up and down your arms. The tears continued to paint your cheeks. His smile seemed almost sinister, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together because of your growing arousal. He noticed and chuckled. “Oh? It seems like you’re enjoying this, hmm?” You gulped as his mouth hovered over your ear. “Tell me,” he whispered, “am I right?”

“Y-yes,” you hesitated, inhaling sharply as his arms came in contact with your hips. He gently brushed his fingertips along them. 

“Good,” he hummed, stepping back for a moment, “then, I’m going to take you now.”

You didn’t have time to respond before he had you shoved against your living room wall, nipping at your neck as his hands slipped up your thighs.

“You have time to stop me, you know.”

But you didn’t stop him. You allowed yourself to melt into his touch, eyes rolling backwards as his fingers pressed your skin. He trailed them upwards towards your sex. You threw your hands up to grips his hair as his fingers came in contact with your sensitive nub. You whimpered as he lightly tugged it between his pointer and middle, using his thumb to spread out your slick simultaneously.

“Oh, wow,” he hissed, “you really are enjoying this, aren’t you, stranger?”

“Y/N,” you managed to choke out between moans, “my name is Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he grinned, shoving one finger into you, “I’m Yeosang.” The room was filled with your cries as he curled his finger into you, soon adding a second. “Oh, baby, I can’t wait to put my cock into you.”

“Please,” you begged, squirming in his grip.

“Not yet,” he cooed, “I want you to come all over my fingers first. Can you do that for me?”

“I-I can.”

“Good.”

Yeosang began to pick up his speed, playfully matching your moans as you released yourself onto his fingers.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, feeling your warmth spread along his hand, “you did so well for me, love.”

“Did I?” You asked, eyes glistening as you looked up at him with a puppy-like pout. 

Yeosang couldn’t handle it. Seconds later you were on the couch, face pressed into cushions and ass up. “You absolutely did,” he praised, pushing himself into you.

You cried both from the pain of the lack of adjustment and the pleasure of his cock rubbing your walls. He pounded into you with a relentless speed, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your back. You gripped the couch as you screamed his name, gasping for air.

“Yeosang! Fuck!”

He gripped your hair, forcing your body to arch upwards. “That’s it,” he seethed, slapping your ass one time, “say it again,” then another. 

“Yeosang!”

“Louder, baby,” he commanded, squeezing your waist harshly, “I know you can.”

“S-shit,” you choked as he moved his hands from your hair to your throat, keeping you steady in your current position, “YEOSANG!”

“Oh, fuck,” he yelled, pushing his final thrust into you, “please let me come in you, love.”

“Please,” you mewled, completely falling apart beneath him. You pressed down your palm onto your throbbing clit, using the final bit of stimulation to come a second time.

Yeosang let out a loud groan as he painted your walls white, your juices mixing with his. You could feel him throbbing inside of you as he twitched, collapsing onto your back.

The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments, breathing heavily as you tried to come to.

“Guess we aren’t strangers anymore, huh?” You teased.

“Only if you don’t want to be.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think, “maybe break in a few more times and we’ll see.”

[rosewaterandivy]

you’re a dream to me (steve’s version)

a continuation of this blurb

pairing: s.h x f!reader

themes: smut mdni, “they were roommates,” shame surrounding sex/orgasm, casual intimacy, heavy petting, fingering, light praise kink, squirting

Steve didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

You, however, woke refreshed and in a brighter mood. Hopped off the couch without some much as a “good morning,” and padded over to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

He’d tossed and turned in vain for another hour or so, until the din of “hushed” voices was too much to ignore.

The couch sags as someone takes a seat on the edge, boxing in his legs underneath the blanket. Turning from a perfectly comfortable position on his stomach, shirt tucked up to his chest, Steve wakes to the scent of cinnamon and coffee.

“Hey sleepyhead,” You greet with a smile, “Made a fresh batch just how you like it.” Only to place the cup in your grasp on the coffee table in front of him, just out of his reach.

“Rude,” He rasps sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Have you seen my—”

You place the glasses in his lap before he can finish asking the question. He mumbles his thanks and puts them on, running a hand through his wild hair.

“The kids and girls are making their rounds in the old neighborhood. I’m hanging back to do some stuff around here.”

He takes a sip of coffee and nods along.

Steve’s supposed to do the typical holiday check-in with his parents, but really has no interest in it. Christmas isn’t far off, he could just put it off until then. Besides, it’s not like they’d do anything but a tension filled lunch at the club where his mother will ask when he’ll finally settle down and his father will remind him that it’s past time to get serious about his future.

He mulls it over while drinking his coffee. Half-watching you mosey around the house starting laundry, writing a grocery list, opening the windows to let in the brisk autumn breeze.

It’s Sunday. On Sundays you do chores, pick up the groceries for the week, spend approximately two hours in the bathroom doing god knows what only to come out nearly a new woman, and order take out from the good Thai place just off-campus.

Steve leaves you to your routine, making a pit-stop to find the cordless phone and leave a message for his parents.

“Hey, it’s me. Something came up and I can’t make it. I guess I’ll see you at the Christmas Eve party. Okay, bye.”

He places the phone back in the cradle to charge and walks back to his room. He didn’t exactly leave it pristine, but it’s essentially an unmitigated disaster now. Whatever hell Dustin and Mike had wrought, they would be paying for in spades.

Sheets don’t knot themselves up, he knows that much for sure. And yeah, Will and Lucas were in here too, but they had far too much sense for whatever this chaos is.

There’s a soft knock on the door. He turns to find you leaning against the jamb wearing a familiar Stop Making Sense tour shirt.

Steve can’t even bring himself to be mad. You flash him a smile and say, “I’m running out to the store. D’you need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good honey.”

“Okay,” You fiddle with the strap of your tote bag on your shoulder. “The washer should be free soon, I just have to move my stuff once I’m back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says stepping closer, “I can flip your stuff.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Thanks Steve. I’ll be back soon!” You say with a turn toward the door and toe on your sneakers. With a brief wave, the door shuts behind you and Steve, for the first time in a long time, is left to his own devices.

Not that he takes advantage of it, of course.

He showers, lets the phone ring and machine pick it up, eats something vaguely decent (though the expiration date is questionable), and flips your laundry only to begin his own.

Piling his laundry into the washer and eyeballing an appropriate amount of detergent, he hears you call out a greeting as the front door opens.

You’re weighted down with paper bags and trip twice from the entry way to the kitchen. Steve takes the bags from you without much fuss, sets them down on the counter how you like and sorts out the pantry versus refrigerator goods.

There’s a garbled sound from the answering machine as you press the play button in the living room. He continues to put the groceries away, not paying much mind to whomever had called.

You slide in on socked feet nearly careening into him.

“Shit, sorry!”

This you say directly to his sternum, face plastered to his chest. You can feel his laughter as he says, “S’fine sugar. No harm, no foul.”

Steve’s hands grip your forearms, warm and wide, as he sets you back to rights. He gets a good look at you— freshly washed hair, bare faced, and already in your comfies. He notes the distinct lack of voices in the house. Then, he gets an idea.

“Who was on the machine?”

“Oh, just the kids and the girls.” You say, filling a glass of water. “They’ll be at the ‘rents tonight. Something about giving us our space back.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, they’ll be back tomorrow night. You know they can never last long confined to their childhood bedrooms and loving parental advice.”

Steve considers this information.

“Do ya want me to wash your sheets?” You offer, “I think Dustin may have just passed out in his clothes last night, shoes and all.”

All it takes is a nod from him and then you’re trotting off down the hall. You come back with a smile, sheets miraculously free of knots, and disappear into the laundry room humming a tune from the radio.

The night passes unceremoniously, unfolding in its typical fashion of ordering way too much food and then watching the Twin Peaks episode from last week that you’d taped.

Steve finds himself in a familiar place— arm around your waist, snuggled on the sofa, a blanket draped over you both. He can smell that lotion or perfume you only wear on Sundays, clean and fresh like sheets drying on a clothesline.

“Hey, um,” He begins, trepidation rattling in his voice. “Don’t get mad, but are you okay?”

He can feel as you tense in his arms.

“M’fine Steve. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, you just said something last night and it got me worried is all.”

You heave a sigh, turning from the tv to face him. Your lips are drawn in a tight line, brow furrowed.

“Just forget I said anything.”

He worries his thumb along your jaw. Eyes tracing along your face— the fading freckles from the summer heat smattered across your nose, the high color of your cheeks.

“I don’t think I should,” He says carefully, “It doesn’t sound like something anyone who cared about you would dream of saying.”

He lets the words land. Watches as realization flashes across your features. Wonders why you’d let something so baselessly wrong bother you so much.

“I mean, they’re not exactly wrong.”

Steve cringes at the thought.

“I’m not like, the easiest person to deal with in that respect.”

“How d’you mean?”

He draws you closer, hand falling to the small of your back.

You bite your lip, eyes flitting to and fro.

“Sex, Steve, I mean sex.”

His mouth falls open in an oh of recognition.

“Apparently, it takes a lot of work for me to come and even when I do, it’s a mess.”

Steve tries to school his expression into one less shocking. Who the fuck would say something like that to you? What is wrong with people?!

“To add insult to injury,” You say with a snort, “I haven’t been able to come for weeks. It’s beginning to be quite the issue.”

Huh. So that explains why you flew off the handle at trivia night the other day. He knew it couldn’t have been over not knowing something as innocuous as which mountain range separates Europe and Asia?

You’re squirming in his grasp and he can tell you’d like nothing more than to turn around and pretend this conversation never even happened.

But the thing about Steve is, he’s like a dog with a bone. And unbeknownst to you, you are the bone in this scenario.

Before you can pull away, he grounds you with an arm to the waist. In response, you raise a delicate brow.

And ah, fuck here he goes.

“I could, uh,” He swallows audibly, “Help with that, if you want.”

Your immediate instinct is to roll your eyes and laugh, let slip a sardonic sure, Steve.

And you can’t help the huff of a laugh that escapes as you say, “Offer that service to all you gal pals?”

“N-no. I - don’t. Just—”

The you is left unspoken but it hooks at something in your chest and pulls. Leaves you jittery and… wanting.

“Okay,” you say with an inelegant shimmy onto your back. “Show me your moves, Harrington.”

Shocked still, Steve doesn’t know where to begin. You’ve maneuvered your back against his chest, head resting on his shoulder and hips slotted beneath his. Your legs splay open, the hem of his shirt falling just above your black briefs.

His heart rattles in his chest, and he’s sure you can feel its frantic pace. He scooches back a bit, separating his hips from the swell of your ass, and sits you up.

The vantage point is better, he rationalizes, he can see what he’s doing here. At his movement, you grab the hem of his shirt and peel it off your body, the image of David Byrne’s big suit landing in a heap at the foot of the couch.

“You can touch me, y’know.”

And yeah, he definitely wants to. Stripped down to your basics, black on black and nothing fancy, Steve’s mouth begins to water. It’s so surreal— he never thought you’d actually take him up on his insane offer. Much less so willingly.

“Y-yeah, okay.”

Your warm back settles against his chest once more. His hands trail the notches of your neck as you turn your head.

“Can you do me a favor though, and just like, talk to me?”

He swallows, desire carving a searing path through his chest.

“Course, sugar.”

And then there’s the hot press of his mouth against your jaw, and the scent of him rushes into your shared space and has your groaning softly. Fresh citrus from his body wash tanged with something that’s ineffably Steve.

His entire body shudders against yours. His hips lurch into the sliver of space between you as he breathes brokenly, “Holy shit.” And you can’t help but agree.

Steve’s fingers end up buried between your legs. Hand wedged into the impossible space between your clenching thighs. His opposite hand splayed against the soft curve of your abdomen, holding you in place and pressing you down into the cushions.

He’s talked you through it all, gentle murmurs and slurred words, the nip of his teeth at your throat. Told you how pretty you were, how good, his mouth smearing hot and wet against your skin.

And how he’d worked you up with his soft, lingering touch. Fingers trailing along sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. How he’d eased the straps down your shoulders, circled your nipples over the fabric and teased them to peaks before letting the black fabric pool at your waist.

There’s a slow drag of words from his throat when his hand brushes the band of your briefs.

“Y’ready, honey?”

All you can manage is a nod, chin clearly thumping against your chest as his fingers dip beneath the fabric to slowly drag through your soft curls. The point of his nose traces a line against the column of your throat, breath hot and seeping while you’re positively leaking through the fabric.

Shifting your hips in desperation, his fingers slip lower and barely brush against your clit. It draws a deep whine from your chest as you reach back in desperation to find his hair and pull.

“Fu-ck.”

Steve’s hips buck against the fat of your ass, his hand pressing down against your pelvis, the pad of his finger petting delicately at the seam of your sex.

“So good like this,” he says raggedly, thumb alighting on your clit with a smear of slick as you gasp. “I know, I know,” he soothes, your mind drips into something syrupy and slow.

His clever finger slips inside, punching the breath from your lungs. Your head turns to the side, pleasure loosening your bones and burning like an inferno. But Steve never lets up, even as he’s breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded and staring back at you.

His cheeks are flushed pink as he murmurs and mutters, words long lost to you now as heat cracks through you like a live wire, coaxed gently along by Steve’s careful ministrations.

“— want you, please,” you babble incoherently. Already fucked stupid, buoyed by the senseless desire he draws from you like water.

A lewd squelching noise as two of his thick fingers sink into you, causing your voice to break, “Want your cock— inside, oh fuck.” Your eyes roll back in your head at the deep press of them, cunt clenching as the slide against your walls.

His thumb brushes your clit, a firm press as he buries his fingers deep and presses down with his opposite hand, hot and searing on your skin.

“Wanted you for so long,” he groans, urging your hips forward in his fingers buried to the hilt. “Jus’ like this.” He murmurs something else into the hollow of your throat, something lost to time and space.

You’re shivering and throbbing and rocking downwards onto his hand as his fingers continue to ignite your pleasure. His touch searing like a brand as he continues to press against you, until your voice breaks on a moan.

“Yeah,” you breathe, head lolling against his chest, fingers loosely gripping his damp hair. “Right there, oh fuck, Steve —”

You make a mess of him as he draws your desire up, up, up. As it peaks, your back bows and strangled shout falls from your lips, moisture rushing from you. Soaking his fingers and hand, your thighs, the couch cushions, fucking Christ.

“Imsorryimsorryimsorry,” you whimper, fingers clutching tight in his hair.

And all he makes is a deep sound of satisfaction, hips stuttering against your ass. A dark rumble from the confines of his chest, and you look up to see his eyes molten gold and heavy lidded, a smile breaking across his face.

The last of your release shudders through you, his fingers slipping slowly from your sex, petting in soothing strokes and easing you from your pleasure. But still, there’s a keen ache making you clench and flutter around nothing.

Forcing your fingers to loosen from his hair, you let them graze his temple, his cheek heated and damp beneath your skin.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, catching your breath as your eyes flutter closed. Pushing hair from your face, you find your brow slick with sweat. Steve, without a care, whispers a kiss to your brow and huffs a laugh.

“How did you get so good at that?”

Can’t even be bothered to turn back, you roll your head on his chest catching an inelegant shrug of his shoulder.

“Mmm,” you murmur, content to be splayed against him. “I owe you one, pal. Jus’ gimme a minute…”

Steve sighs softly, letting his fingers tangle in your hair as your breathing evens out in sleep. Eventually, he’ll rally and heft you back to your room and clean sheets.

And eventually, though who can say when, he’ll screw his courage to the sticking place and cash in that I.O.U.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

As we’re facing the next COVID surge (brought on by holiday travel), I thought I might try a different kind of COVID post. You can skip to here for some easy to do tips and tricks you might have missed, or you can read down for my discussion of why this is important.

I have recently been writing and thinking a lot about why so many of my friends and family’s actions on COVID are so different from mine. Namely why so many people I know no longer seem very interested in either preventing themselves from being sick or, importantly, not spreading sickness to anyone else.

In my own case, the experience of staying home to stop the spread in 2020 forced me to strongly reconsider my behavior up to that point. Why had I ever thought it was OK to go to work or ride the subway with the flu, unmasked and taking no precautions, knowing that the flu certainly hospitalizes and kills people each year? Even if the flu was no big deal for my body, my behavior had limited other people—particularly disabled people—from comfortably being in public during flu season. I had knowingly spread around an illness. I radically reconsidered a lot of my behavior, and in particular, 2020 pushed me to focus more specifically on disability justice in my activism. A disability justice framework pushes us beyond thinking about individual access to consider how ableism limits us all from liberation.

Getting back to why this reconsideration didn’t happen on a mass level, understanding disability justice also means understanding that ableism is the current social order. And if it’s the order of the day, like other oppressive ideologies, that means we are all drenched in it and it is impossible to avoid ever doing something ableist. Furthermore, most people are going to act in ableist ways, most of the time. None of this are exempt from this, but not even trying is definitely worse!

I am also well aware that good COVID information is hard to come by, especially if you are not on the regular lookout for it. And if you do go looking for it, it can quickly get overwhelming. So I’d like to offer here a very short, distilled list of things people might have missed since 2020. (I’ve not taken the time to track down citations for all of these things; you’ll have to trust me that I got them from trustworthy sources or you can verify on your own. I’m happy to give more info on any of these too.)

Some of these things are easy enough to do. I’m offering this list because from a “stop the spread” mindset, each specific thing you do is helpful. This list is not meant to be comprehensive, and it’s hopefully not overwhelming. You don’t have to be perfect or avoid COVID 100% of the time or make this part of your identity, but I’d like to ask everyone reading this to take one step up in your mitigations for the holiday season, since this is reliably a time with huge increases in virus transmission. With around a thousand people still dying every week from COVID in the US, you don’t know whose life you may save by being a little more careful.

Masking This is the biggest bang for your buck, precaution-wise. If it’s hard for you to mask all the time in public, consider masking in places that disabled people really can’t avoid, like the pharmacy, the grocery store, and on public transportation.

I’d also suggest that if masks are uncomfortable, try different kinds of masks! The Aura is my favorite mask – it’s tight to my face so my glasses don’t fog and head straps don’t hurt my ears like ear straps do. Wellbefore sells masks in different sizes and colors, and Armbrust has sampler packs. Just try a bunch and see what works for you!

Finally, know that if at all possible, you should wear an N95 or KN95 mask. This is a change since spring 2020 because the current variants of COVID are more contagious.

Mouthwash Washing your mouth out with a mouthwash containing CPC (cetylpyridinium chloride) before or after seeing people, or just regularly, will kill some of the virus in your mouth and keep you below the threshold to get sick and/or shed the virus to others. This is a really easy one; CVS brand mouthwash has CPC.

Sip mask These valves will allow you to drink without breaking the seal of your mask. This is great for airplane travel, crowded conferences, or other risky spaces that you need to be in for an extended amount of time.

Airplane The most dangerous time on an airplane from a virus transmission standpoint is the time sitting on the runway (because of the way they circulate and filter the air onboard). Even if you don’t mask up during the flight, this is the best time to mask. (And if you do mask, this is the worst time to have a snack or drink – try to keep your mask on for all of this period.)

Space out risky or crowded events Don’t go to a wedding and a concert in the same weekend! Illness takes 3-5 days to develop after exposure, so give yourself time to know if you got sick from the last thing before potentially spreading that to the next thing.

Air purifiers work! This is a great one for places that you can’t avoid, like school, work, or daycare. You can make your own Corsi-Rosenthal box, but there’s also a variety of high quality air purifiers you can get for $70-100. You want to make sure it has a HEPA or Merv13+ filter on it, and check how quickly it changes out the air in a room. Since COVID is airborne, there can be COVID in a space even after the person has left it. Setting up air purifiers and/or opening windows until enough air has circulated before you remove your mask is a great way to make a space COVID safer

Test before going to events, even if you don’t feel sick Rapid tests (the kind you’re used to getting from the government and at the drug store) False negatives from these are rampant but a positive test reliably means you have COVID. The accuracy of these tests also increases a LOT if you take two of them 48 hours apart.

Better home tests are now available Metrix and Pluslife are both testers you can buy that offer a similar level of accuracy to a PCR test (that is, very accurate!). These devices are expensive, but so is another COVID infection: think of the missed work, cost of Paxlovid, and potential for Long COVID to keep you down even longer.

It’s a good idea to get an updated vaccine 2x a year too; like the flu shot, these vaccines are updated to try to fend off the particular variants that are circling. Be mindful though that vaccination will not necessarily stop transmission, especially of asymptomatic cases. Handwashing is also good for general prevention, but it doesn’t really stop COVID transmission. In the early days of COVID, researchers guessed that it was spread by physical droplets. That’s why we were instructed to wash our hands and groceries. But now we know that COVID is airborne; it spreads more like cigarette smoke than spit!

Of course, no single thing works perfectly. The best model is still the Swiss cheese model, but that also means each thing you do helps. If you’re reading this, please consider doing *one more thing* to take care of yourselves and others. I love you

[forkandknife]

I’m in a really fun and great time in my life where I am so exhausted I can barely get out of bed in the morning and only have the energy to lay on the couch most of the time but if I’m not doing things and I don’t have Plans for every minute of every day I feel like I’m going to explode

[lygma-nygma]

Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

the 14 year old edgelord in me keeps trying to compose deep poetry about coming to after dissociating. calm down babes. we’re all good here.

[gobbluthbutagirl]

ever since my nephew was born my parents(who have been divorced since like 2013 and separated since 2011) have had this weird codependent relationship where, since my nephew and his mother/my sister live at my mom’s house, on the weekends my dad will literally wake up and immediately drive to my mom’s house and stay there until like 11pm, and on weekdays he will go straight to her house when he leaves work and also stay there until at least 10pm. and he also buys all her groceries for her and does all of her household maintenance type tasks like mowing her lawn and changing her lightbulbs and taking her trash out, while neglecting similar tasks at his own house, and it’s like to the point where multiple people have asked my siblings if they’re together/getting back together, but they most definitely are not, it’s something weirder than that. but anyway yesterday he took her furniture shopping because her couch broke and apparently the guy at the consignment store, after hearing all about their grandson, made some innocent comment that implied they were married, and my mom got really offended and snapped at him that they are NOT married, and my dad was just like Well we used to be…

[lewmagoo]

it’s been a rough week. tonight i’m ordering in and spending the rest of the evening partaking in girl rot activities 🤗

[lemonynuggets]

trick or treat! >w<

treat 💥 here’s some chocolate milk for you

[lyriumsings]

another day of daydreaming about my ocs while i earn money packing up cookies and donuts leggo

[platypusisnotonfire]

The post i recently reblogged about the Romeo and Juliet with heelys in reminded me of the way I got my first heelys.

It was when we lived in the states (NYC area) and my mother had a drs appointment that was going to take at least an hour. I was 8, and allowed to either stay in the waiting room or go to the rooftop garden, but that was all.

At the age of eight I had gotten my first job that paid like, appreciable money (I worked for the family business for five dollars an hour prior to this but got a job with a friend of the family pulling 100 dollars a week doing two nights of office cleaning with them. Yea, child labor. Not the point of my funny story tho. I liked my money. I’m honestly not mad about it.)

So I had cash.

And damn I wanted heelys.

So I illicitly left the building and walked six blocks to the closest Modell’s (gotta go to mo’s) and bought my gorgeous heelys for 30 big bucks.

At this age I had taken to carting around a huge messenger bag for all my books and I had premeditated this excursion and packed an empty box in the bag to make it look full, chucked that in a crosswalk garbage bin and carried the shoebox back.

Not questioned by the mother. None the wiser I had left.

No one was awake to see me leave for school wearing them and no one was home to see me come home wearing them and I got away with this for literal years (I had had a fairly large growth spurt at 8 and bought two sizes too big so they fit for ages)

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

What if I got a service dog, what then (<- guy who definitely can’t afford a service dog)