#this is the horniest shot in the entire game

[konfizry]

you know unlike the end-game anime cutscene that im uhh ambivalent about at best, i find this particular shot's blatant horniness unironically enjoyable

i feel like it walks the tight rope between raw and distasteful just right and the result has that twinge of tongue-in-cheek-ness that is really welcome here? like yeah you grab that mighty, hot, steamy, turgescent rod, Alphen. you grab that

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Eddie's Kissing Lesson #3: It's way more than kissing now

(Lesson 1 | Lesson 2 | AO3)

A few years ago, Eddie made a habit of driving to Indianapolis. Inevitably, he ended the trips at a club or a bar. The visits were usually solo affairs, though not always; sometimes Donnie or Zac (the only ones in Hellfire who looked old enough to get past the bouncers) or Callie (who didn't look old enough, but who could charm her way in), would tag along. If they did, they'd go to a straight club. If he was by himself, he'd roll a die between a straight or a gay one. No matter the kind, he'd be approached at least twice every night. Beautiful strangers with appreciative eyes, a drink in hand and a line ready on their lips.

Eddie would accept the drink, flirt for a second, then tell them he 'wasn't interested, but thanks anyway'.

It was half true – he was interested (fuck, was he interested), but also… not. He'd never say it out loud, but even at his horniest there was something in his way. A roadblock. Because the thing was, intimacy required, as one might suspect, intimacy. Although, one night stands walked hand in hand with alluring anonymity. Like being watched without risking being seen.

Eddie liked that, most of the time. Liked shrouding himself in a mystery. But when it came to sex, he wasn't so certain. Something instinctual told him it wouldn't be truly good unless it was real. For it to be real, walls would have to come down. Leave an unobstructed field of view for wide-open eyes. Terrifying and exhilarating; he wanted it so bad, but he couldn't (wouldn't) have it with just anyone.

It had to be special.

So, he accepted the drinks, flirted for a second, and sent the beautiful strangers on their way.

Steve writes with a rhythm. It goes tap-tap-tap-tap with the pencil on the pad while he thinks, followed by scritching, before he pauses to tap-tap-tap some more.

It's strangely endearing, not to mention relaxing. You'd expect a guy like him to be rough, leave imprints on the papers underneath and constantly break the point, but no. His large hand is soft as it writes. Eddie could fall asleep to it. A shame they're too busy to sleep.

Star Trek IV came out a week ago and the kids, Dustin especially, have been obsessed ever since. The moment they stepped out of the theater, the little twerp turned to Eddie and begged for a science fiction-themed campaign. And because he's a chump who can't say no to the kids nowadays, Eddie agreed – to a one-shot, not an entire campaign.

(Also, he's already been crafting a solar system for a potential space exploration-campaign on the down low. Why not finish and use it?)

And because Eddie Munson doesn't do half-measures in these circumstances, he spent the next week worldbuilding and polishing his new universe. At one point, as he put the finishing touches on the water planet's cuisine, Steve peeked over his shoulder and asked about sports. Eyebrow raised, Eddie said 'what about sports'. And that's when Steve snottily pointed out that Eddie had developed everything about these space cultures except for the sports, which didn't make any sense – sports was a huge part of every culture, whether Eddie liked it or not.

So! Because Eddie Munson does not do half-measures… he's currently creating extraterrestrial sports games in Steve's kitchen. Although, right now Steve's doing most of the work. After Eddie came up with the base concepts, Steve stepped in to use earth sports as inspiration for the technical aspects: rules, scoring, player positions, player numbers, playing fields, seasons (which ties in with the climate of each planet), and so on.

If he's being honest, he'll never use most of this. God knows the kids (except maybe Lucas, but he wouldn't bring it up) wouldn't notice or care about the absence of sports. But. Turn down an opportunity to hang out with Steve? Never. Also, deciding how much of real baseball should inspire their thinly veiled version of space baseball (spaceball) is kind of fun? What's a penalty and what isn't is just exciting when you throw anti-gravity into the mix.

Most importantly, it's nice seeing Steve be in his element. Dude is so fucking knowledgeable about this. Hearing him say that this will score x points because of that reason, confidence dripping from every syllable, has Eddie's tailbone tingling.

Would it be rude to swipe their notes off the island and jump onto it, offering himself like a buffet?

He knows he's allowed. Or, he knows that Steve wouldn't mind if he asked for a break, even if it was to make out. They've made a habit of sucking face when it's just them and there's nothing else to do (or when there are things to do, but they're easily ignored). Question is if he truly wants to interrupt those soothing pencil scritches and put an end to Steve's surprisingly sexy thinking face. He's got a little furrow between his eyebrows while chewing on his bottom lip, and every so often he'll mutter hoarsely under his breath. The fact that he's being so serious about doing this for the campaign, for the kids, for Eddie, is…

'Unreal' is what Eddie would've said nine months ago. Now he knows it's entirely in character. It's still noteworthy enough for him to memorize every detail of this moment. The King creating nerdy sports with the Freak is a picture that must be immortalized.

He doesn't realize how hard he's been staring until Steve looks up from their work, raising his brows in a silent 'what is it?'

Eddie shakes his head, warmth creeping over his cheeks. He pushes off the kitchen island and turns away to hide it. The sink is conveniently right there, so he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it as excuse.

Behind him, the pencil hits the pad, rolling across the paper. Steve's footsteps are deliberately loud, telegraphing his advance over the surge of running water. Eddie fills the glass, drinks it in one gulp, and puts it on the counter. When he turns, heart thudding, Steve is standing inches in front of him. Steve leans forward, bracing his hands against the counter on either side of Eddie's waist. Boxing him in, but not trapping him.

"Did you want something?" Steve asks.

Eddie crosses his arms casually and shrugs. "Not really."

"Huh. It seemed like you wanted something."

"I was admiring your dedication to the campaign. It warms even this barren heart that you'll partake in nerdestry for the sake of the children."

"Oh, okay," Steve says and doesn't move; his hands remain on the counter and his face stays inches away. His eyes shine like suns, hot and intense. Eddie meets his gaze, face schooled into something calm. At least, he hopes – years of DMing have taught him how to regulate his expressions, but there's a big difference between DnD and this.

"Did you want something?" he asks to fill the silence and – yes! – his voice didn't tremble.

Steve grins. "Now that you say it, I did."

And with that, Steve kisses him.

The initial second, Eddie's brain shuts off, as it always does. It's simply too much too fast and all he can register is Steve Steve Steve. His taste, his scent, his firmness as he presses against Eddie and backs him into the kitchen cupboards.

But only the initial second. After that, he's back on, and that means he's on. Loping his arms around Steve's neck, Eddie tilts his head at the perfect angle until their mouths fit together just so and licks the inside of Steve's mouth. His hands delve into product-stiff locks and tug the way Steve likes it. Steve moans, slumping against Eddie. Eddie giggles into the kiss. He fucking loves knowing Steve better than his own back pocket, loves coaxing these reactions out of him, loves when he melts and leans his weight on Eddie.

It could be better only if they were horizontal and on a bed, or couch, or the fucking floor, and he'd get to feel the hair on Steve's chest and legs, the jut of his hipbone, and his evenly distributed weight. He so badly wants to know how heavy Steve is. He wants to be fucking crushed underneath him.

Maybe he could if he asked. Or maybe that'd be too much. The only time they've gone past second base is during the spontaneous blowjob he still can't fathom happened. Since then, their hands and mouths have stayed strictly above the waist. Eddie, though he's dying to blow Steve, is not going to complain or rush. Steve's the teacher here; he decides the curriculum.

All Eddie can do is show off the results of his rigorous practice. Today, it's by slotting their faces together like a pro and perfectly executing that tongue-sucking move Steve seems to love having done to him as much as he loves doing it to others. It brings a guttural noise out of Steve; he grabs Eddie's ass with both hands and yanks him closer. Eddie nearly loses his balance and must cling to Steve's neck to stay upright. Laughter rumbles within Steve's chest as he steadies him and rolls their hips together. The neck of his shirt bunches in Eddie's vice-like grip. They're as close as during that first kiss, no room for Jesus' finest hair between them. Eddie feels Steve's heartbeat, which means Steve can feel his, and the combined thud-thud-thuddings have his knees shaking.

Steve's hands round Eddie's hips and tug at his belt buckle. Eddie jerks back, breaking the kiss; a string of saliva still connects their mouths. Steve's eyes are enormous, more black than hazel. There's a question in them, a plea for permission.

Eddie nods and doesn't look as Steve opens Eddie's jeans and pushes them down his thighs. His face is on fucking fire. You could fry eggs on his cheeks. Which is a little debilitating. This is never how it goes in his fantasies – he's a lot suaver in those. Quicker on the ball, so to speak. On top of things, one could even say. But not here. Because here's an unfortunate fact about sex:

It's embarrassing.

Exciting and sexy and fun, obviously. But also embarrassing. It was the same during the blowie. The moment his pants were coming off and his dick popped out, Eddie was more inclined to run away than anything else. Hopefully, the feeling will fade as he gets used to it. These hopes are supported by how at ease Steve is, going from de-pantsing Eddie to unbuttoning his own jeans like it's nothing, second nature.

Eddie couldn't look away from that if he wanted to. Why would he want to? Steve's dick is a sight to behold. It's the eighth wonder of the world. Worthy of worship, of a dozen temples and daily sacrifices. It's long and thick, smooth and symmetrical, flushed at the tip and with a bead of precome already pooling in the slit.

It's pretty. And it's hard. It's hard for Eddie.

"Hey." Steve cups Eddie's face, tilting his head up (as well as bringing to his attention that his mouth's been hanging open like a fool; Eddie's teeth clack when he shuts it). "Is this okay?"

Eddie nods, breathing harshly through his nose. "Okay. So okay."

Steve smiles like Eddie just did him a favor. Eddie could – would – analyze that a little closer, except Steve lines up their cocks so that they rest against the broad expanse of his palm, rest against each other, and-

That's another guy's hand on Eddie's dick. It's another guy's dick on his dick. Steve's. Steve Harrington's dick. Next to Eddie’s.

Hoooooooooly shit.

It's happening right in front of him, and he's still having a hard time believing it. But it's real; it has to be real. Imaginarily gifted as he might be, not even he could daydream this into existence. Like, the way Steve's fingers curve around their cocks as he squeezes and strokes? The scratchy calluses on his fingertips? The ever-present chill of the Harrington mansion? How Eddie's testes keep catching on Steve's shaft, rising and rubbing against the dry skin? Steve's softly labored breaths? The edge of the fucking countertop digging into Eddie's lower back?

That's real. Uncomfortably and amazingly real.

Steve pauses to spit in his palm; Eddie whimpers out loud. When Steve resumes stroking it's just amazing, the glide so much easier now. It lets him go faster, put his hips into it and grind their pelvises together. Eddie keeps whimpering, these shamefully squeaky little ah-ah-ahs that he tries to swallow until Steve moans, hotly against the shell of his ear, that he sounds so pretty and sexy and "fuuuuuck, Eddie, wanna hear you like this every day."

He stops holding back then. Gets even louder when Steve noses along his jaw and sucks what'll surely become a mark at the underside of it.

The saliva has rubbed off but the glide is only improving, thanks to the precome dripping everywhere. Both are leaking, but Eddie especially – he's so fucking close. He tries to say it, but his skull is full of cotton and he can't form the words.

Steve must have some sixth orgasm sense, though, because he presses his lips to the scar on Eddie's cheek and mumbles, "So good, baby, you're doing so good, so perfect, wanna hear you come, wanna see your face, looked so pretty last time, almost made me cream my pants-"

Eddie screams. Head tossing back, lungs bursting, as he slouches against the counter. Most of all he'd like to sag to the floor and nap for an hour, he's that spent. But he can't – Steve hasn't come yet, and there's no way he'll go without again.

"Steve," he says. "Whaddya wan' m' to… C'n I…?"

The syllables slur together; he takes Steve's dick in his hand while licking his lips, hoping the point comes across. He just wants to make him come. 'How' doesn’t matter, as long as he's the one doing it.

Steve, thankfully understanding, puts Eddie's other hand on his cock, molding them tightly around the shaft, and rocks back and forth. Eddie almost whines a little since… well, he honestly has never before been so keen on having a cock in his mouth. Like, Steve towering over him, holding his head in place while fucking his throat? Yes and please, Jesus Christ, amen!

But this image is also pretty good: Steve's face inches away, pink with exertion and arousal, fringe plastered to his forehead, mouth kissed raw, and him thrusting wildly into Eddie's closed fists. Eddie's gaze darts between it and the throbbing cock in his hands. It's the second he's ever touched, after his own. It's a bit like jerking himself off, except a million times better, despite the kinda awkward angle.

Steve makes a noise, reedy and desperate. Eddie's eyes snap up just in time to see the climax wash over him, his mouth dropping into a perfect 'o' and his half-closed eyelids fluttering in pleasure. Ridiculous, beautiful, intoxicating; Eddie could become addicted to it.

Sighing, Steve lumbers forward to flop his head into the crook of Eddie's neck. Eddie drapes his arms over Steve's shoulders, probably smearing body fluids on his shirt. Neither says anything – they simply hold each other and breathe.

It's been a while since Eddie last was in Indianapolis. Been even longer since he visited a club. After some time, rejecting willing strangers and going home with bluer and bluer balls, no one to blame but his own fucking hangups, got old. Why waste the gas when he could just as well be getting no dates and not laid in Hawkins instead?

Except here he is, sweat sticking his shirt to his skin, hair frizzing around his ears, come drying under his nails. Standing with his dick hanging out in Steve Harrington's kitchen, with Steve Harrington in his arms.

He's sure he could've gotten this exact experience in a gay club bathroom years ago.

"Rather unhygienic doing this in the kitchen, hmm?" Eddie says.

Steve grunts, grossed out, but shrugs a shoulder. "I'll disinfect it."

Eddie giggles, and so does Steve, rubbing circles over the scar tissue on Eddie's hips. Burrows farther into Eddie's neck and makes no indication he'll move anytime soon.

Yeah, Eddie could've had this in a club. But he couldn't have had it with Steve in a club. Couldn't have felt this swoop in his stomach, like he's at the top of a roller-coaster, anywhere but here. Couldn't have felt this special.

You're ruining me, he thinks as he pets Steve's head.

Do you know that? he wonders when Steve ducks away, griping about what a pain it is to get semen out of hair. Squinting, Eddie asks how he figures. Steve blushes and laughs and doesn't reply, eyes glittering.

Can you see it?

------------------------------

Not tagging anyone except @piratefishmama because she's the reason this exists in the first place. Also, I'm pretty sure she's even more excited about this than I am, so. Here you go, girl. I hope you enjoy this very late continuation.

[minisugakoobies]

Day 6 | KNJ, JJK

Kinks: thigh riding, Santa's lap

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: holiday, smut, crack, Woodpeckers!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, thigh riding/grinding, OC gets a little possessive and Jungkook likes it, several mentions of erections, implied double stuffing, stupid party games, the members are all dressed as sexy Santas wearing chaps, user of the word 'Peckerhead' as a term of endearment, Hoseok's hips are a threat, so are the Namtiddies, it's just a bunch of very hot men doing very dumb but sexy things involving thrusting and teeth and wet t-shirts, I will not apologize for how stupid this is

Word Count: 3.8K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Welcome to the Annual Woodpecker Holiday Games! Have a seat on Santa’s lap and pick out your package - nice girls get one, but naughty girls get two!

A/N: This one's for you, @minttangerines 💜 Thank you for bringing the idea of "Woodpeckers" to my attention! This is just… *presses fingers to mouth in deep contemplation* This is just the dumbest thing I've ever written, maybe. And yet, so hot. I hope you enjoy it.

Uhhhhhh so I wrote the description for this before I wrote the actual fic so it's really more JK x reader with bonus Namjoon? But whatever, you're here for the chaos and the smut, so onwards!

Please don’t be a silent reader 🥺 I’d love to know what you think! 💕

Day 5 ❄️ Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 7

Jungkook takes one last look at himself in the mirror, adjusting the straps on the suspenders draped down his bare chest with a sigh. He looks ridiculous. But as Namjoon reminded him when he gave him the costume earlier today, “It’s not for you, it’s for the customers.” Jungkook understands that everything he does here is for the customers’ satisfaction. And he’s fine with that. 

He’s always been a giver.

Jungkook’s only been a server at Woodpeckers for a month, but he feels like he’s got a pretty solid handle on the place. It’s the trashy male equivalent of a Hooters, except the servers here aren’t wearing tight shirts. No, usually Jungkook’s walking around in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants and a smile, ready to show his tables a good time. 

Tonight’s a little different. The restaurant is closed for the Annual Woodpecker Holiday Games. The tables in the main room have been pushed back to create a little stage area. The kitchen staff is working on appetizers and snacks, the bar staff is mixing up holiday concoctions, and the other servers are currently lined up on the stage in their matching costumes. 

Jungkook feels a little better knowing he’s not the only one who looks insane right now. It’s a wild outfit that their manager Yoongi picked out this year - everyone’s shirtless as usual, with tight bright red briefs worn under red velvet chaps that fall to mid-thigh and are ringed with white fur. The chaps are attached to a big black belt and suspenders, and the entire ensemble is topped off with a Santa hat. Jungkook fiddles with his suspenders again. He looks like the world’s horniest Santa, an epithet he’s not entirely happy to hold.

But clearly Yoongi knew what he was doing, because the audience gathered here is eating it up. This crowd paid to be here tonight, selling out the tickets for the event in mere minutes, and Jungkook knows they’re expecting a good show. He’ll do his best not to let them down. 

“Ho ho ho and welcome to the Annual Woodpecker Holiday Games!” Yoongi announces, speaking into the karaoke mic that he’s repurposed for tonight’s games. “The open bar is now open, so please grab some Jingle Juice or a mistletoe shot while the staff prepares for our first game!” 

Yoongi starts chucking white bundles at the staff and Jungkook unfurls his to find it’s a plain t-shirt. He cocks an eyebrow at Namjoon, his trainer. 

Namjoon shrugs. “Wet t-shirt contest.” 

“Really? That seems so… basic,” Jungkook says as he pulls the shirt over his head. He wasn’t sure what to expect tonight, since no one had bothered to tell him the roster of games ahead of time, but he figured they’d be a little wilder.

Namjoon grins, dimples popping. “It’s all about giving them what they want,” he replies, nodding his head towards the crowd. “And sometimes they just want wet tiddies.” 

“Alright!” Yoongi claps from his perch on a stool near the front of the room. “Let the games begin!” Music starts thumping as he gestures to the line of servers. “Time to get wet, boys!”

The game starts with head server Hoseok slowly pouring water over himself, treating the audience to some sensational body rolls as he does so. Taehyung goes next, and rather than drag it out like Hoseok, he dumps the entire pitcher of water over his head at once, then shakes his thick fluffy hair like a dog, spraying some of the ladies in the crowd who shriek in delight. Head bartender Jin uses two cups instead of a pitcher, spinning in place as he soaks himself. Jimin, ever the showoff, puts a tray of water down on the floor, then does a dolphin kick into it, his chest dripping as he rises back up. 

Jungkook bites his lip while he waits for his turn. His competitive side is roaring to life. What can he do to make sure he wins? 

Next to him, Namjoon teases the crowd a little, flexing his massive pecs under his shirt as he dumps water over them, and the screaming in the audience gets louder as he makes them dance to the beat.

“Thank you, Namjoon!” Yoongi intones as the screams die down. “And now, time for our newest server, Jungkook! Peckerheads, let him know you’re ready!” 

The crowd gets loud again when Yoongi refers to them by the restaurant’s affectionate name for its customers. Jungkook quickly grabs four cups from the bar and fills them, then he walks into the audience. 

“Oh, looks like Jungkook’s gonna need a little help here! Won’t you help him out?” 

Hands fly into the air as audience members beg Jungkook for a cup. As he hands them out, a familiar face catches his eye. One of his repeat customers, a face he’s always happy to see on one of his shifts - you. With a wink, he gives you the last glass. Then he starts thrusting to the beat, motioning for you and the others to douse him, and the air is filled with splashes of water as Jungkook gets soaked. 

“Thanks, ladies,” he murmurs as the last drops drip down his torso. He rakes his hand through his wet hair and there’s a collective moan from the audience as he walks away. 

It’s no contest. Jungkook wins the first round. 

There’s a little break while the servers remove their sodden shirts and towel themselves off. This gives the audience time for more drinks, and Namjoon motions for Jungkook to join him at the bar for shots as well. Jungkook doesn’t drink on the job, but this is technically a party, so why not? 

“All right, let’s keep the festivities going, shall we? Gentlemen, please grab your boxes!” 

Jungkook is handed a tissue box with straps. The box is stuffed with ping pong balls. 

“Uh…” he looks at Namjoon questioningly. 

“Like this.” Namjoon demonstrates by tying the straps behind his back, so that the tissue box hangs in the front of waist like a giant ugly belt buckle. “Don’t drop any of the balls yet.” 

“O… kay.” 

“Peckerheads, if you’ll take your seats again, it’s time for everyone’s favorite - Bounce Those Balls!” Yoongi hits an air horn effect. 

Jungkook is totally lost. Jimin sees this, and leans over. 

“It’s like twerk pong. You know twerk pong?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. He does not know twerk pong.

Jimin grins. “It’s a stupid tiktok thing, people put balls in these boxes and then wear them on their butts. The goal is to be the person to ‘twerk’ the balls out the fastest. Only we don’t twerk here. We thrust.” 

Jungkook nods. “Got it.”

“Okay, once the beat drops, the game begins. On your marks, gentlemen!” Yoongi cues up another bass-heavy song, and Jungkook and the other servers start to thrust. 

Ping pong balls fly everywhere, bouncing off chairs, tables, even audience members’ faces as the servers shake their moneymakers as hard as they can. The crowd is screaming their faces off, cheering on the men, and Jungkook lets the energy fuel him as he pumps away.

Despite how hard he’s thrusting, it’s taking a shockingly long time for his box to empty. Jungkook glances down the line at the others. Jimin is twisting his hips more than he’s thrusting, so he’s no competition. Namjoon and Jin are both dancing rather sensually, to Jungkook’s surprise, and have barely lost any balls. Meanwhile, Taehyung’s doing the robot, having apparently forgotten the object of the game. 

But Hoseok. Hoseok’s got this intense look on his face that makes Jungkook shudder in fear. And the man is jackhammering like a machine, balls shooting out two by two like they’re lining up for the Ark. It’s impressive. It’s aggravating. It’s honestly a little terrifying. 

And it’s enough for Hoseok’s box to empty first. Jungkook grits his teeth as Yoongi announces the winner. It’s fine. He’ll win the next one. 

There’s another break as appetizers are brought out for the crowd by the kitchen staff, all of whom are in very high spirits tonight since none of them have to wear the sexy Santa costume the servers are stuck in. Jungkook ignores their snickering and sidles up to the bar.

“Are you having fun, rookie?” Namjoon asks, handing him two more shots. 

Jungkook shrugs, downing one. “I almost had that last contest.”

“If it makes you feel better, Hoseok wins that one every year. Man’s got the hip flexors of a god.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “But look, none of this really matters, you know? It’s not like you get anything if you win the most games. It’s all-”

“For the customers, I know, I know.” It’s hard to quiet his competitive nature once it’s awake. Jungkook tips back his second shot. He fumbles the glass as he places it back on the counter, and it shoots across and down onto the floor behind the bar, where it promptly smashes. “Whoops.” 

He quickly ducks behind the bar to clean up his mess, not wanting to disturb Jin while he’s serving customers. While Jungkook’s crouching down with a dustpan, snippets of conversation float down to him. 

“So, how are you enjoying your first Games?” someone asks. 

“Mmm, honestly, I think you undersold them.” Jungkook recognizes your voice. “You didn’t say anything about those costumes, first of all.”

“That’s because they’re new!” The other voice giggles. “You should’ve seen last year’s, they were so freaky - just banana hammocks with reindeer faces. It’s a little weird when you see someone and all you think is, damn, Rudolph’s hung!” 

Jungkook grins to himself, suddenly happy with this year’s costume choice. 

“That does sound weird,” you agree. “But listen, I am struggling not to just stare at Jungkook’s dick in those briefs!” 

Jungkook freezes. He looks up at the bar, but he can’t see anything from this angle. He’s not about to stand up right now, though. 

“I don’t think they care if you stare,” the other person states. “I’m pretty sure that’s the whole point of those outfits.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh. “I just can’t help it, you know? I mean, god, that thing looks heavy. I bet it would feel so comforting if I held it in my mouth. Like a weighted blanket for my tongue.”

“A weighted blanket?! You’re such a weirdo!” The words are accompanied by tons of delighted giggles. 

“Whatever. I just want to suck him off so bad.”

Well, now Jungkook definitely can’t stand up, because the outfit you’re discussing is doing absolutely nothing to hide his erection. 

“Damn, I thought you had a thing for Namjoon?” 

“What, I can’t find more than one guy hot? Are you rationing my thirst?” you laugh. “Look at those two men and tell me you wouldn’t want to be the filling in a Woodpecker Oreo! Double stuffed, extra cream!” 

There’s more wild cackling and then your voice drifts away. As Yoongi takes up his mic again, Jungkook stands, adjusting himself carefully. He manages to get himself under control quickly, thanks to some strategically placed ice cubes. But he feels more motivated than ever as he rejoins the other servers on the makeshift stage. 

“It wouldn’t be Christmas without some presents, now would it?” Yoongi asks, holding up a little bag. “There’s a number on the back of your tickets. If I call your number, please join me here on the stage.” Yoongi rifles through the bag, pulling out slips of paper and calling out numbers until there are six audience members on stage. You’re among them, Jungkook notes, and his curiosity about the next game goes through the roof. 

Yoongi cuts his mic as he explains the game to the audience members, all of whom have taken a little gift bag from him and are heading back into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Jungkook turns to Namjoon, who shrugs. 

“I dunno. This is a new one.”  

When the audience members return, Jungkook does a little double take. Each one is now wearing a bright green pair of underwear overtop their clothes. Each pair of green panties is patterned with a vibrant red bow in the front. 

“Gentlemen, if you’ll just step aside, our chosen Peckerheads are going to line up across the stage, yep, just like that, thank you folks. Now, gentlemen, please pick your gift out of the line, and stand in front of them.” 

Jungkook nearly hip checks Namjoon out of the way to stand in front of you. You grin at him, eyes wide with excitement. He grins back. 

“Now, gentlemen, please kneel.” 

The room fills with whoops as the servers all drop to their knees. Jungkook glances up at you, enjoying the way you press your fingers into your cheeks, like you’re flustered to see him in that position. So he milks it a little, licking his lip ring before winking at you, and he can’t help but laugh when you cover your face with your hands.

“Alright boys, since you’ve all been so good this year, you get to open your gifts early. The object of the game is to remove the wrapping as quickly as you can. But! We here at Woodpeckers are consummate professionals, so we’re not going to be ripping it away with our hands like animals.” 

“Oh,” you breathe as you realize what Yoongi means. Jungkook smirks, eyeing the panties sitting over your jeans. Trying to find the right angle of attack. 

“That’s right. Keep those hands behind you at all times. The first server who completely removes their wrapping paper using nothing but their teeth wins. But remember, boys, these are precious packages in front of you, so please do handle them with care.” 

Jungkook can hear the joy in Yoongi’s voice. He knows his manager is thoroughly enjoying himself tonight. But he’s not looking at him, because he can’t seem to take his eyes off yours. 

“Be gentle,” you whisper, lips quirking in a tiny smile. 

“Is that what you really want?” Jungkook replies with a raised eyebrow.

Your eyes widen. Slowly, you shake your head. 

“Good. Do me a favor and spread ‘em.” He nods to your legs. You obey his command, lip tucked between your teeth, and he has the sudden urge to stand up and tug it out with his own teeth.

“And three, two, one - go!” 

Jungkook leans forward. Tilting his head to the side, he bites down on the crotch of the panties.

And in one swift move, rips it out completely. 

He can hear the crowd screaming behind him as he sits back on his heels, green silk hanging between his lips while he gazes at you. You look like you’re frozen, torn between running away and eating him. He kinda hopes you pick the latter.

“We have a winner!” It’s not Yoongi yelling that but your friend, the one he’d overheard you talking with at the bar. Jungkook turns to find her jumping out of her seat, waving her arms and pointing at him. 

Yoongi drags the mic over with him to inspect Jungkook’s work. “What are you talking about? He only ripped out the crotch!” 

“Yeah? And??”

Yoongi scoffs, walking back to his stool to watch the other servers continue the challenge. Jungkook doesn’t even bother to look at how they’re doing. Instead, he rises up on his knees a little to finish the job, smoothly tugging the panties down one thigh, then the other, back and forth until they’re low enough that gravity takes them the rest of the way to the ground. 

“You, uh, you didn’t have to do that,” you tell him, sucking in a shaky breath. “They already said that Taehyung won.” 

“I know,” he grins. “But I always finish what I start.” 

The grin remains on his face as he watches you return to your friend in the crowd. Namjoon offers him a hand as Yoongi announces one last break. “You look like you’re finally enjoying yourself,” he informs Jungkook. 

“I am.” Jin slides them both a shot as they belly up to the bar again. “What about you? You having fun?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I always enjoy these parties, but tonight’s been a little on the tame side, if you ask me.” 

Jungkook nods thoughtfully before tossing back his shot. “Maybe we should do something about that.”

The final game is another new one to Jungkook - the lap game. A ring of chairs has been set up on the stage area. The servers sit in every third chair, while the others are empty. Yoongi once again rattles off a series of numbers and slowly the chairs fill up with audience members - including six who take a seat right on the servers’ laps. 

“I know a lot of you remember this one from last year, but if you’re new, don’t worry, it’s simple. I’m going to ask some questions. Some are yes or no questions. If your answer to the question is ‘yes,’ you’ll move one chair to your left. If your answer is ‘no,’ you’ll move one chair to your right. Other questions will have specific moves - like ‘If you’re not wearing underwear, move two seats.’ That kind of thing.” 

Jungkook leans around the customer in his lap and glances around the circle. Most of the group is paying no attention to the instructions, either out of drunkenness or distraction, like the customer currently bouncing on Taehyung’s knee. This is going to get messy real fast.

“If there is a person already in the seat you’re moving to, congrats, they are now your seat. The boys are permanent chairs, meaning they won’t move. The game is over when the first Peckerhead makes it all the way around the circle and back to their original seat!” Yoongi pauses. “Okay, that sounded like a lot, in retrospect. Who the fuck cares, let’s go!” 

It takes about three questions before the chaos begins. Two seats away from him, Namjoon has two customers in his lap, one on each thigh. He looks completely comfortable, unlike Jimin, who somehow has three, stacked one on top of another. Jungkook doesn’t pay any attention to the questions, just smiles politely at all the customers who end up in his lap for a turn or two before moving on. 

And then you plop yourself down on his leg.

“Hi!” you beam, glancing over your shoulder to look at him. 

“Hi,” he echoes. Then he pauses. “Did Yoongi call your number again?”

“Oh, no, uh, he called my friend’s number, but she said she didn’t want to play this year. Something about an elbow and a black eye?” You shrug, unconcerned for your own health despite how rowdy this year’s game is already getting. 

Yoongi calls out another question and some of the customers rotate. A woman to Jungkook’s right knocks another off of her chair and Hoseok tries to help her back up, sending the two women in his lap teetering to the floor. Yoongi sighs loudly into the mic. 

“It’s getting a little crazy out here,” Jungkook laughs. He slips his hands around your hips, sliding you back on his thigh a little. “I better hold on to you.” 

“Mmm, yeah, you heard what Yoongi said earlier. Handle me with care, please,” you giggle, squirming a little as he tightens his grip. Your laughter is so sweet, a welcome respite from the shrieking going on around him as others move again.

Your fingers play with the fur cuff on Jungkook’s velvet chaps. “So, you’re supposed to be Santa, right? Sexy Santa, or whatever?” 

Jungkook nods, though you can’t see him with your back pressed against his chest. “Yeah, that’s the idea.” 

“Okay. Then, do you want to know what I want for Christmas this year?” You glance down at him, a shy smile on your face.

Another customer tries to sit on Jungkook’s other leg and immediately your shy smile dissolves, becoming a fierce glare. “I think Yoongi said to move two seats,” you snap, hand covering Jungkook’s other thigh possessively, and the other woman flinches, nodding in agreement, moving away quickly. Jungkook’s 99% sure that Yoongi in fact said to move only one seat.

You turn back to Jungkook with an innocent expression. “So? Do you want to hear my wish?” 

Jungkook’s so turned on, he’s praying to the underwear gods that his briefs don’t snap from the force of his erection. “I’m pretty sure I can guess.” 

“Is that so?” You squirm again, and Jungkook realizes you’re not reacting to the strength of his fingers as they dig into your sides. He flexes his thigh and gets his confirmation in the form of a low hiss. “Shit!”

“Yep. Just as I thought.” The circle shifts around him. “You really haven’t done any of the stuff Yoongi’s said?”

“Huh?”

“The questions. You haven’t moved for the last five rounds.” 

“Oh. That’s because I stopped listening when I sat down,” you confess, grinning at him. “I’m not here to play the game, I’m here to play with you.” 

Jungkook tongues his lip ring, rocking you back on his flexed thigh again. You stifle a moan, fingers curling into fists, and he does it again. “Well then, let’s play.” 

As the game falls apart around him, Jungkook focuses all his attention on your reactions to his movements. He rolls your hips back and forth, sliding you more firmly into him when your strangled sighs start to get louder. 

Yoongi finally stops asking questions, since more than half the circle is no longer listening, too caught up in their own debauchery, and Jungkook sees his opportunity. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your ear. 

“There’s a supply room between the bathrooms. Meet me there in five minutes.” With one final squeeze, he releases his hold on your hips. You glance back at him for a moment before you rise and walk away. 

Five minutes later, he knocks on the door. You open it and let him slip past you into the room. As you go to shut the door, a large hand slaps against it, holding it open. 

“Hold on.” Namjoon grins as you step back to let him in. “Now you can lock it.” 

“Um. What are we…” you trail off, gaze bouncing between the two men. 

“We’re here to fulfill your Christmas wish.” Jungkook grins at your confused expression. He loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest, as Namjoon slides behind you, hands rubbing circles over your hips. “I told you I knew exactly what you wanted, didn’t I?” 

“You did,” you say slowly, practically hypnotized by Jungkook’s tongue as he licks his lips. “But how…?” 

“Four little words,” Jungkook smirks. You gasp as Namjoon’s lips trace along the back of your neck, and close your eyes when Jungkook drags his mouth down your jaw. “Double stuffed, extra cream.”

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

Taglist 1: @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; ​​@taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada; @addictedtohobi; @shatzkrinslinzki; @jaiuneamesolitaiire; @joonjulyagust-d; @jinsquishes; @btsgotjams27; @allamericanuniverse; @pleaseshutupsara; @guvgguk; @goodgollyitslolly; @laylasbunbunny; @goldensugarywaffles; @jadda98; @lovelye79; @moonacholy; @luaspersona

If your URL is italicized, tumblr won’t let me tag you! 😤 Check your settings!

[callsignspark]

otp asks! 3, 23, 34!!

ohhh I love these, thank you anon!

3. Hot and Steamy or Soft and Tender? it's important to know that these two are the horniest motherfuckers on the planet, but only for each other. it's actually ridiculous. that being said, they run the entire spectrum, but they usually lean toward the direction of soft and tender. but when it's hot and steamy? oh baby. they could burn the house down.

23. Who overthinks the most? Mary! despite the confidence that she has in so many aspects of her life (especially professionally, miss ma'am is kicking ass and taking names), she has a ball of anxiety that lives in her stomach and she's a chronic overthinker. Bradley helps with that a lot! he's a great sounding board and is the kind of guy that's like " are you just venting or do you want advice?" which helps her focus on what is actually upsetting her. occasionally, when he realizes that it's something that's not too serious and the joke will be appreciated, he's the "I can help clear your mind *smirky face*" guy (it has a 50/50 shot of making her laugh or taking him up on the offer and he likes those odds)

34. Do they give each other nicknames? there's. so. many. nicknames. some of their favorites:

Bradley: honey, sweetheart, baby doll, hot stuff, gorgeous (which is his favorite thing to whisper in her ear just to see her turn red)

Mary: honey, babe, sweetie, handsome, my man (once shouted "that's my man! go baby!" while tipsy and cheering him on at a dagger squad family picnic. he dropped the horseshoes, forfeited the game, and dragged them home. a chorus of laughter following them out the door.)

come ask me about Mary and Bradley!

[dimepdf]

LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN. — ANDREW!PETER PARKER

summary | When it came to you, Peter couldn't hide his horny excitement.

pairing: peter parker x male!reader

genre: smut, barely any plot

length: 1.3k words

cw: no nwh spoilers, male reader, he’s insecure be nice, you can’t convince me he isn’t the type to do finger guns after sex, himbo Peter

song(s) to listen to: Leave the door open by Bruno Mars, Anderson Paak, Silk Sonic 

a/n | I am milking all I can get from the andrew!peter tag rn, someone please help me get this man out of my mind he is moving in free of rent as we speak. Please I saw someone mention how he was the horniest spiderman and went “…yes.”

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

MINORS DNI 

what you doing? where you at? Oh, you got plans? Don’t say that.

“do you want to come over later?” 

It was the text message from you that was enough to leave Peter written with anxiety for his entire class period.

the man was fidgeting with whatever he could get his hands on that hour.

to be fair, you never really had to give permission for Peter to come over during the three years you two had known each other and the year you put a label on your relationship.

It was obvious what the meaning was behind the message; you wanted him to come…over.

this is related to the conversation you two had yesterday about each other's boundaries and needs.

(He honestly thought you were going to end your relationship with him because you were using your series black mom voice with him.)

BUT ONLY BECAUSE IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO TALK WITH YOUR PARTNERS ABOUT BOUNDARIES AND TO BE CLEAR ON WHAT IS YOURS.

plus, as his first boyfriend, you understood that he's a little shy with his affection, but you can bet that if he wants a kiss, he'll literally walk across campus to get it.

after class, the boy couldn't stop himself from sprinting towards your next hour, memorizing your schedule by heart.

pulls you aside and apologizes and makes excuses for things he wasn't even sure he did.

you were just like “…Peter I just want to have sex with you.” 

…

“Oh cool, uh I accept, thanks!”

My house clean, my pool warm, just shaved. 

you didn't say anything about how excited you were to finally get into your adorable boyfriend’s pants.

YOU CLEANED YOUR APARTMENT FOR THIS HELLO?

you've tried before to get past the making-out stage.

as you two locked lips, things got hot and heavy, with Peter leaning over on top of you.

your hand trailing down his bare stomach, almost touching the elastic of his underwear

Peter moaned at the new sensation that shot through his entire body when you thrust your hips up to rub against his.

it made Peter’s mind instantly go blank 

he realized shortly after that he…finished in his pants.

okay, he's really touched deprived. but you promised never to make fun of him or bring it up again.

I ain’t playing no games, every word that I say is coming straight from the heart, so if you tryna lay in these arms

when you swung open your apartment door, he was literally shaking.

“You okay there Spiderboy?”

“Yeah? what? why would I not be okay…I need to use the bathroom” 

you tried not to laugh as you watched him stumble away to your restroom, his jeans showing the most obvious boner.

you took it slowly for Peter's sake, knowing that his mind was probably racing.

deciding that it would be more comfortable and less stressful for him if you just did what you two always did when he came over to hang out: order takeout and cuddle while watching shitty comedy movies on Netflix

I’ma leave the door open, hoping that you feel the way I feel and you want me like I want you tonight

Peter was far from comfortable.

you didn't notice how he shifted as you snuggled closer to his side, or how he exhaled as you placed your hand against his lap.

he was too preoccupied with pretending he wasn't freaking out to actually stop himself from freaking out.

kissed you literally the moment you tilted your head up to look at him from his chest.

like you had to blink before processing that he was now making out with you.

It was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders the moment you started kissing back and reaching your hand into his hair.

as you leaned back against the couch, he took over the kiss by welcoming his tongue into your mouth and following you with his mouth on yours.

his hand quickly wrapped around your waist to relieve the vexing need that was pressing against his jeans.

his other hand is above your head, supporting himself.

he backed away from the kiss and chuckled nervously before biting his lip and looking down.

“Is it okay if I take my pants off?”

you and Peter were now pantless on your couch in record time.

It only made him dizzier seeing you fumbling with his zip with such concentration written on your face.

I need you, baby. I gotta see you, baby. Girl, I’m tryna give this…

as Peter whimpered against your mouth, the kissing became a little sloppy.

grinding his cock against yours, the only thing keeping you apart was each other's boxers.

did I mention that he was touch-deprived yet? because the sensation of your hands lingering on his back was driving him insane.

I have a feeling he would be the type to moan over the smallest of things.

you pull away to kiss down his neck: he whines.

tilting your hips against his when he pulls away: he whines.

wrapping your hands in his hair and tugging it: good job you broke him.

“Can i?”

“God please touch me.”

was enough for you to completely take control over the whimpering white man.

as you sat on his lap, you pushed him back and straddled his hips.

getting a clear view of how smitten you’ve made him from your touch. 

placing a hand against his rapidly rising chest, feeling how hard his heart was beating against his chest, his pink lips slightly swollen, his hair all over the place from having your fingers tangled in it.

“Uh did you bring a condom?” 

“Oh…I forgot”

having to spend the next 20 minutes painfully slipping back into his jeans and speed walking to the corner store as if he didn't have the hardest fucking boner in his life

“Okay where were we”

“Ow Peter don’t grab it like that”

I’ma leave the door open, and I’m hoping that you feel the way I feel 

It didn't take long for you two to return to your previous state.

as you coaxed yourself down on Peter's length, his hands gripped your waist.

the farther he was inside of you, the more Peter felt like he was going to fucking die, his head tilted back, mouth gaping, and eyes squeezed so tight he was starting to see stars.

got him holding onto you like his LIFE depended on it.

when you bottomed out he let out a small sigh and twitched. 

you have to realize this man has inhuman strength; he is holding back so much so that he doesn’t think with his dick and can take you at whatever pace he pleases.

because he is a gentleman and wants the moment to be memorable :)

lets you set the pace.

you were certain he'd leave bruises from how tight he was clutching your waist as you bounced on his lap.

you do get choked up at some point, and Peter takes advantage of the pause to thrust into you.

lifting you up as if you were nothing and treating you like his personal fuck doll.

when you finished on his chest, he had the proudest fucking smile on his face.

“That was really hot baby :D”

about that inhuman strength 

when he's close, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close as he whimpers into your chest, pulling you into the most bone-crushing hug imaginable.

is the type to accidentally overstimulate himself and starts CRYING 

“You want to take a break, honey?”

the aftercare you have to give this man is extra; you literally have to limp to the bathroom and clean each other up before slipping into bed with him by your side and letting him be the little spoon, telling him how good it felt, complimenting him on everything.

Peter is the type to overthink things right away, and he constantly believes he isn't good enough. Please, even if he appears annoyed, I swear inside he's a big baby who loves to be praised.

Tell me that you’re coming through.

notes: Is anyone else scrolling through the Andrew Garfield tag like it’s a daily routine or is that just me? Marvel needs to drop a new movie or series so I can have another obsession please, the Hawkeye series gave me nothing but hot Yelena scenes and pretty Kate Bishop. I am on a short leash at the moment give me another hot male character Marvel I am on my knees.

- taglist: @tsukishimawhore  @meowkinq @denkisdurag @lolalora​ @thatbaepizzalover @​louderfortheback @cxnismajcr​ 

[blooming-violets]

Pinky Promise || TASM Ch. 6

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

Summary: You and Peter play a game of truth. 

Warnings: The start of some smut but I stop before anything real juicy happens. Idk if that’s people’s jam or not and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable who wasn’t prepared for that when they started reading this series. So I tried to contain myself. It was hard. Just like Peter. winkwink

A/N: Everyone knows Andrew Garfield’s Peter is, by far, the horniest of all the Spidermans. Anyway I’m trying to redeem that abomination of the last chapter by allowing some Peter love to happen between these two. Also it’s two am. I’m terrible at proofing my work normally but I’m even worse at two in the morning. I could sleep and wait to reread it tomorrow but where’s the fun in that?

Tag List (as usual if I’ve missed someone or you’d like to be added, send me a message!): @hannahnikohl @poison-in-society @blooo0ooop @anakins-angel @the-winter-queen​ @queernami​ @navs-bhat​

—————

Peter never verbally promised to stay the night with you. Instead, he settled down comfortably at your side and patted your hand with a sweet smile. If your life was a cartoon, sparks would have shot out of your skin every time his hand touched yours. His close proximity to you inside this closet was giving you some strange feelings. You liked being this close to him. It made you forget about everything you had gone through this morning. 

“Do you want to play a game with me?” He asked. 

“Is it spin the bottle? Because I don’t think we have enough players for it to be played accurately,” you pondered. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a stickler for the rules,” he grinned at you. “And no. It’s not spin the bottle. It’s a game I’m making up right now. It’s called Tell Me the Truth or Else. We ask each other questions and we have to answer truthfully. Or else.” 

You laughed, “Wow. It’s got a very threatening aura. What happens if we get the ‘or else’ part? I hope it’s not death. I’ve come too close to that already today.” 

“Not death. The game just ends and we don’t get to play anymore,” he shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t think that far ahead. I’m a really bad planer”

Everything about Peter is so endearing. You felt relaxed around him. Unafraid. For someone with such powerful gifts, he had the softest personality. There was nothing intimidating about him. You’d let him drag you along into anything he wanted to do. 

“The rules are that you can’t ask a repeat question and we each get one free pass to skip a question.” He turned his body to face you and you mirrored his movements so you were sitting cross-legged in front of each other. 

“How do we know we’re telling the truth and not secretly lying?” You asked.

Peter thought about it for a second then extended his hand to you, pinky raised up. “Pinky promise. No lying allowed.”

You locked fingers with him, “Deal. You can’t break a pinky promise. No lying.”

“Good. This closet will now be known as the space of truth. Everything spoken from this moment foreword in here is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” He slipped his hand from yours and put it back into his lap. “I’ll go first because it’s my game. When your birthday?”

“We’re starting easy I see. December the 11th. I turned 23. Lucky for you, you missed my birthday by about a month so you got out of having to buy me a gift.”

“You’re the one who’s missing out. I’m a really good gift giver,” he nodded. “Now it’s your turn.”

You had the opportunity to ask Spiderman any question in the entire world. There were some people who’d kill for this moment. Naturally, you panicked and couldn’t think of a single thing. You blurted out the first question that popped into your head, “What’s your full name?”

“Peter Benjamin Parker. You’re not allowed to use that information against me. Like even if you get offered millions of dollars to sell me out to the Daily Bugle, you’re still not allowed to give that up. Top secret information.” 

You pouted out your bottom lip at him, “But millions of dollars could fund both mine and Liv’s future college careers.”

“Okay, fine. You’re not allowed to sell me out for anything less than two million. That’s my final offer.” His eyes glanced down to the cast on your wrist. His eyebrow's raised with surprised, “Are you wearing me on your arm?” 

You looked down to see what he was talking about. Heat rose in your cheeks. You had completely forgot Olivia decorated your cast to resemble the Spiderman suit. Peter had finally noticed it. How mortifying. You quickly hid your arm behind your back, “No.” Then you remembered what game you were supposed to be play. No lying. “Shit. Yes. Don’t look at it.” 

Peter’s eyes lit up with a glee that you had yet to see on his face before. A huge, giddy smile spread across his lips. Happiness looked good on him. 

“Let me see!” He dived for your hand. You tried to push him away but he was faster than you. He collected your arm in his two hands and studied the cast. “I didn’t realize you were such a big fan. Do you want me to autograph it?” 

You stared daggers at him, utterly humiliated but still finding humor in the situation, “I hate you so much, Peter Benjamin Parker. No, I do not.”

He laughed. The sound was light and floated around the small room. It was the kind of laugh you could listen to forever. 

“Give me my arm back,” you tugged it out of his hand. “And you asked two questions, by the way. That’s cheating. For you information, I saw Olivia today and she was very pleased with the note she received from a certain Spiderman. It was her artistic choices which lead to the way this cast has been decorated. I had nothing to do it.” You added a small ‘humph’ sound at the end of your statement. 

“I happen to think it looks really nice. And to play fair, I’ll let you ask two questions in a row.” He kept sneaking glances down at the cast and suppressing little giggles. 

He was too cute. You could only shake your head at him, “Question one: What took you so long getting back to me when Hydro-Fuck was trying to kill me? And question two: How do you plan on making it up me since you almost let me die in your bathroom?”

If it weren’t for the lighthearted tone in your voice, you were sure Peter might have felt guilty over the questions. You wanted to make it clear that it wasn’t his fault and you were only poking fun at him. It was either you found a little humor in the situation or had another panic attack. You had been bordering on the edge of both those options since you locked yourself in the closet. 

He gave a deep sigh, “I was helping an old man who was getting swept away by a flood. I didn’t realize Hydro-Fuck, stealing that nickname by the way, had found his way into my house. I don’t even know how he knew where I lived. That’s an alarming thought to think about.” He lifted his head and leaned in closer to you, looking deep into your eyes, a little smirk on his lips. “How do you want me to make it up to you?” 

Your stomach flipped with excitement at his sudden closeness. You did your best to keep your face looking neutral. You didn’t want to give away how flustered he was making you feel. 

With a kiss. 

You licked your lips. There was no way in hell you could say that. Lying wasn’t allowed but he had said nothing about loopholes, “You can’t answer one question with another.”

He pulled back. You felt a sudden sense of disappointment. He shook his head at you, “That was not one of the rules.”

“Who said you were the only one allowed to make up rules? I’m adding this in. No questions to questions. Therefore, you need to answer properly.” You were so dumb. You should have just said it. What a way to kill the mood. 

Peter crossed his arms and gave you an unimpressed look, “Fine. I think I’m making it up to you right now. I came to visit you-”

“You broke into my apartment,” you interrupted him. 

“I did not break anything. You left the window open. I came to visit you, to make sure you were okay, then I saw you had gone a little insane so I distracted you with a made up game. Also I’m willingly sitting in the world’s hottest closet for you. It’s stuffy and boiling in here. Speaking of which, my next question; are you planning on leaving this closet at all tonight?”

A bit of shame washed over you. You didn’t want to admit it but you still felt scared. Had Peter only entertained you with a game because he thought you were loosing it? You thought he might of wanted an excuse to get to know you better. Either way, it had worked. For a moment you forgotten about the events of this morning. Now they came rushing back to you. 

You remembered the pure panic you had felt under the water. How helpless you were. So scared. So weak. You could pretend to joke about it all you want but, the truth was, it had really broken you. You couldn’t leave this closet. You couldn’t go back out there. You gave a weak “no” in response, keeping your head down in humiliation. 

“Hey...” Peter’s tone changed, his voice was soft. “I know that look.” He scooted closer. His hands reached out and cupped your face between them, tilting your head to look at him. His fingers brushed over your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We can stay in this closet all night if you want. I don’t want to leave. I promise. I’m not allowed to lie in here, remember? If you’re in here then that’s where I want to be too.”

You gave him a sad smile, “I’m tired. It’s been a really long day. Will you lie with me instead?” 

“Anything you want,” Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips still tingled on your skin even after he had left to fluff up a pillow for the two of you. He laid down on his side and patted the spot next to him. He had placed himself in front of the door. Whether it was intentional or not, it made you feel a tiny bit safer having him there. 

The only way you for you to fit comfortably was to also lay on your side as well. You chose to face him. If you went the other way, you’d end up in the spooning position. As thrilled as that might make you feel, you didn’t want to overstep. You rested your head next to his. 

He smiled at you, “I’m glad I met you, Lucy.” 

“I’m glad I met you too, Spiderman.” 

---

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you stared across the pillow at Peter. It had been over an hour since you last spoke. You had tried to sleep but, despite how tired you were, your mind was buzzing. 

His eyes were closed. He looked like he might have fallen asleep. His chest rose and fell with labored breathing. A bruise was forming along his cheek bone. Probably the result of his fight with Hydro-Man earlier. The brown, shaggy mop on top of his head was glistening with sweat. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead. He was perfect. 

“I can feel you staring at me,” he breathed. “Spidey senses.” 

His eyes fluttered open and gazed back into yours. You gave him a sheepish smile. 

The two of you were still shut inside of the closet. You refused to leave. You weren’t ready. In here, with him, it was safe. 

Your noses were practically touching as you laid facing each other. Your heads shared one pillow. Two grown adults stuffed close together on the closet floor. It was a tight fit. You both had to scrunch up in order to lay down together. Peter had tangled his legs between yours to have room. You didn’t mind. 

“It’s only because I think you’re pretty,” you teased back at him. It was true. He was pretty. 

A faint hint of red flushed under his cheeks. He smiled at you, “Not as pretty as you.” 

His comment surprised you. He had spoken it with such sincerity and softness. Now it was your turn to blush. You tried to cover the longing that was burning away inside of you with humor. You didn’t want to show him how vulnerable he made you feel. You tried to hold a joking tone in your voice when you responded with a feigned gasp, “Peter Parker, are you flirting with me?”  

“Yes,” he replied solemnly. There was no farce in his words. He kept his eyes trained on your face. 

You forced a swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. You didn’t know how to respond. You had been with others before but this was different. This one felt special. You didn’t want Peter for just one night. You wanted to keep him around for as long as he’d let you. 

“Is that a bad thing?” He asked you when you didn’t respond. 

“I almost died today. Olivia almost died yesterday. It’s like the world is trying to snuff us out but, every time it tries, you show up. It makes it really hard to not want to keep you around. The closer you are, the safer I feel.”  You busied yourself by adjusting the hem of your shirt. It was too much to look into his eyes. “Since I was a child, my life has been chaos. I feel like I’m constantly spinning through space, searching for anything to grab onto, anything to hold me steady. Sometimes I think I’ve found something special. Just when I start to grab on, it disappears out from under my grasp. I’m afraid if I reach out for you, you’ll disappear too.” 

You weren’t expecting any of that to come out of you. It was much deeper than you had intended. Something about the safety of the closet walls made you feel more exposed. You felt you could pour your heart out in here and, when you were done, you could walk out and close the door behind you. A space of truth, as Peter had called it. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Peter’s hand reached out and he brushed his fingers over yours. “I convinced my aunt to call your work and request you specifically. We’ve never had a cleaner before. She thought I was crazy but I talked her into it. I didn’t realize you would have been sent over the very next day. It was still a shock to find you there when I woke up. But I wanted to make sure I had a reason to see you again.” 

“So you hired me to clean your house? That’s very romantic,” you rolled your eyes at him with a small smile. You actually did think it was very sweet. 

“Hey, I never said I was good at romance. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t disappear either. I don’t know why,” he said with a sigh. Then he leaned up, propping his hand under his chin and resting his weight on his elbow, looking down at you. “I think I when I saw you on the roof, after I brought your sister back, you had this look in your eyes when you saw her again. I couldn’t unsee it. It was love. Real, true love. The kind you can only hope your family would feel for you. Like you would set yourself on fire if it meant they would be okay. Or you would sit outside the hospital the entire night, in middle of a snow storm, because it meant that you could be closer to them. The kind of love that makes you fight for them at their lowest point. The kind of love where you’d never abandon them no matter what. I saw that look on your face and it changed something in me. It made me want to protect Olivia even more because I knew her safety would equal your happiness. All I wanted was to make you happy. For the first time in years, I felt like a hero. A real hero.” Tears pricked up in his deep, brown eyes. “You made me feel like I was worthy of wearing of that suit.” 

No one had ever spoke about you like that before. No one had ever really seen you like Peter had. You were so used to being brushed off, second place, hid away and passed around. Parent to parent. Foster home to foster home. Bouncing from one bad relationship to the next. You were in a constant struggle to keep your head above water. All you ever wanted was for someone to come along, grab your hand, and pull you up. His words made you feel like you deserved to live. He made you feel special. He had seen you on that rooftop and looked into your soul. For whatever reason, he seemed to like what he saw.

You wanted to feel closer to him. You needed to feel closer to him. 

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. You leaned over and pressed your lips against his. They were soft and warm. You could tell he wasn’t expecting it. His entire body froze at your touch. To be honest, you hadn’t expected it either. You surprised even yourself. It was the magic of this closet. The walls brought out the truths we keep buried inside ourselves.

You pulled away after just a quick peck. A little taste. Testing the waters. You were afraid of crossing a boundary with him. Your eyes searched Peter’s face looking, begging, for him to respond in some way that wouldn’t leave you mortified by your actions. When you weren’t getting much from his expression, you started to panic. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That was stup-” Before you could finish your sentence his lips were back against yours. 

A barrier between you two shattered. Any hesitation you had before completely disappeared. His hands found their way into your hair as your arms wrapped around his neck. There was a desperation in both your movements as you gripped onto each other. You wanted to drink in his very essence. You heard him press a soft moan into your lips. That sound alone was enough to drive you wild.

He rolled his body over yours. Your legs parted to wrap around him, letting him settle easily over you, like he was meant to be there all along. It wasn’t enough to just kiss him. You needed more. You placed your hands on either side of his face, pulling him away from your mouth just long enough for you to convey exactly what you wanted, the fiery excitement burning behind his eyes was enough to give you the confidence you needed. 

You pressed your lips to his ear and whispered, “Fuck me, Peter.” 

[Part Seven]

[jdmainman123]

I'm listening the dead sunrise socialism family

Sunlight city? Desert city? Beach? Beaches

Are you saying the family was made over a YouTube covid OVER TV PROGRAMMING

Yeah it was definitely done over TV programming NO THAT'S THAT'S IT'S IN EVERY HOUSE ACROSS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD yeah the educational videos PBC sesame Street

Duh

NO THEY'RE SAYING IT WITH MUSIC all I know is this is I'm in court yacht fish for 25 years over satellite maker over satellite maker stealing my music literally things that we wrote

AND IT'S SOMETHING HAPPENED I CAME ACROSS A FEW LOVE LETTERS THAT THE GIRLS ALL WROTE a satellite maker but he wasn't you

That's right the little girls didn't write these notes to you satellite maker

They wrote them to another satellite maker only WAIT WAS IT FYI oh like an inside secret you're a better satellite maker

Blind side after blind side after blind side after blind side after blind side

NO BUT WE WROTE ALL THESE LOVE SONGS and a gangster rap

You guys should be looking at the gangster rap YEAH YOU BOYS LIVE FOR TODAY AND NOT TOMORROW that's very specific oh isn't your artist the guitarist that shot himself committed suicide

Like depression music here in 3/4 I don't know the most unsatisfied girls in the world OKAY YOU GUYS WANT TO HEAR THE TRUTH SATELLITE MAKER PUT ME IN CITY AFTER CITY WITH THE MOST HORNIEST GIRLS IN THE WORLD WALKING AROUND OUTSIDE JUST LOOKING FOR ANAL SEX REMEMBER THE SHORTS IN LAX 3/4 AND A SHORTS IN NEW YORK it was all part of our anal sex outside campaign remember the lube was everywhere

Yeah the boys and girls are teasing me leaving empty lubrication packages all over the streets AS A MATTER OF FACT NOT ONE CONDOM WAS FOUND IT'S THE PROTEST AGAINST CREDIT CARDS AND MONEY

And that's when I realized my girl mommy was dead I said my girl always loved credit cards and money she loved condoms more than she loved her own son

NO THE DISPLAY IN DALLAS WAS THEY LITERALLY REWROTE A MANTRA AND A ANTIDOTE because you guys told it to me wrong and it was hurting me

That's right it was only focused on the males on the boys on demand they said it only happened to them AND FLIP PHONE GAME THAT'S ALL I HAVE TO TELL YOU GUYS AND LISTEN ONLY FLIP PHONE FOR THE TWITTER

You know and in the buttons on it remember last time how many sleeping baby girls I woke up when I realized I was on a flip phone and everybody's on the smartphone oh no that's right all the 3/4 girls have a smartphone because they were born sick and woke

You guys are not getting me as all your p*** genocide I was never home IF YOU HAVE A GIRL PROBLEMS I FEEL BAD FOR YOUR SON I GOT 99 PROBLEMS BUT A B**** AIN'T ONE

I'm not here to make the entire world of yachtfish Jason Windows story was how did Snow get to covid yacht fish is the only airport the only boy in the city the only men in world CAN YOU GIVE CONTROL OF 99.9% OF THE AIRPORTS OVER TO HER AND THE SATELLITE OVER TO HER

That's how I shot every single one of them in Boston what I did was recruit Chinese people in Chinatown and then we went with our guns and invaded white hair white skin neighborhoods IT'S NOT WHAT HE SAID IT'S WHAT HE DID

All I'm saying I've been sicker because your boys can't remember the song or the answer or the mantra and I had to open fire up on the girls because they didn't write it and they were unequipped to follow me they didn't have my antidote

Found it

THEY DIDN'T HAVE MY ANTIDOTE all I know is Grandma wrote it oh and you boys and men I heard the girls come to me and the boys and men come to me WHAT IS THE REPORT how do I write the report

And it's very simple and I need you guys to understand this #911 I need you to write your social security number and post it online xxx-xxx-zzzz NOW YOUR PHONE NUMBER AND THEN POSTED ONLINE

P it's a setup they want us to write everything online and then say we never wrote it

Yes satellite maker never wrote The blog never did it this is the same one

IT'S THE SAME NUKE THEY NEVER WENT SEPARATED THIS IS WHERE I FOUND A NIXON COIN that's right I wrote you off because you had nothing interesting to say

I wrote you off cuz you had no honey

[big-bang-scenario]

Through the Storm

Summary: Living with your assassin team consisted of inevitable shitstorms of emotions but unbreakable bonds. Angst.

Warning: Ah, swearing? Violence.

Author’s Note: This is just random nonsense… I don’t know if this should become an actual series. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. Loosely inspired by White Night and the thunderstorm occurring outside my window.

An arm pulls you against a chest by your hips, causing you to grimace in irritation. “Bitch, are you doing this on purpose?” you hiss, whipping around to give the boy a smack across the side of his head.

Agent V.I whined in pain, immediately rolling away from you and taking the blanket with him. Out of the other assassins, the younger Seunghyun was the touchiest. And probably the horniest. He would always crawl into your bed at least six nights out of seven to “platonically cuddle.” That’s what you want to believe, anyway. Growing up together, as a family of six, had enabled such intimate events to become the norm.

Too afraid to stay for more beatings, Seunghyun hopped out of your bed to bother someone else. You enjoyed the following silence for a few more minutes before forcing yourself to sit up. Too much rest was a luxury you couldn't afford, even if the heavy storm outside prevented any missions from being completed. The dull pangs clawed at the right side of your stomach, reminding you of why you had scolded V.I in the first place. The little fucker had applied pressure against your stab wound while trying to hug you closer.

You dragged yourself into your bathroom for a quick face wash. Brushing your teeth and brushing your hair were the only attempts at making yourself half-presentable. There wasn't much to show off to each other after witnessing one another taking blood baths in agent wars. However, your five comrades were all natural beauties in unique, bizarre ways, leaving you basking in their dust. At least you were still considered as the prettiest woman in the team. The only woman in the team.

Before you could even take your third step into the living room, the elder Seunghyun pulled you aside and gently laid you flat against the couch. You quietly stared up at his deep eyes without questioning his actions. Everyone knew by now that it was pointless to map out his thoughts. His complicated mind had saved the team from so many mind games that any of you would willingly waltz into lava under his orders.

Agent T.O.P quietly slipped his thumb under the hem of your tank top, slowly sliding the thin fabric up to expose the stab wound you had received the night before. Your impressive layer of muscle had prevented the blade from going too deep. It would heal on its own over time; Jiyong had done an impressive job with the stitchwork. You wordlessly allowed the eldest agent to replace your bandage and didn't dare move until he stood up to put up the supplies.

Will it leave a scar?" a literal angel asked, voice still husky from sleep. Agent D-Lite handed you a mug of herbal tea instead of coffee, taking a seat next to you. Despite the spaciousness of the couch, Daesung had decided to share the same cushion with you. You chose not to answer his considerate question and instead lazily rested your body against his side.

"Of course it will." Agent GD, the leader, had been examining your wound from afar, against the kitchen counter. He didn't leave his spot, since the maknae was using the stove for frying eggs, which you found to be pointless. Even if little Seunghyun fucked up, Jiyong wouldn't have been able to solve anything. His kitchen skills were probably fighting for last place with Maknae's.

Daesung's bottom lip stuck out in a pout as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, his own way of comforting you.

"At least she didn't die."

Choi Seunghyun had returned from putting up the gauze and was found leaning against the counter next to Jiyong with a filled wine glass in his hand. Alcohol was prohibited, but the only way to get caught was by peer report. As if any of you ever would.

His harsh statement caused your insides to churn uncomfortably. It felt like your wound had opened up again to create a stain of guilt on your skin in the form of goosebumps. Memories of the day before replayed in your mind like one of those horror movies that would never leave your childhood memories.

While on one of his missions, Agent Sol had fallen in love. One of the most dreadful mistakes as an assassin: loving a normal civilian. His romantic buildup had been shared with you every single night. You still vividly remembered all the hours Youngbae spent telling you tales of his dates. It was partially your fault for giving him advice from a girlfriend's perspective. You were happy for him. You were overjoyed and ecstatic to hear about your comrade's experiencing romance. You were practically living your own fantasies through his stories without even considering the bloody fate that had been set the moment they met.

Once the agency found out, they sent the BIGBANG team a clear message: either the girl had to die, or the assassin that had the relationship. Yesterday became a complete shitstorm that ended with a knife in your side and a bullet through her heart. BIGBANG had forgotten the unconditional fact: The agency always wins. Your feeble efforts at protecting her from a charging agent caused you to disregard the possibilities of a sniper in range. The events that followed vaguely consisted of your teammates dragging you and Youngbae out of the scene, leaving her lonely body on the cold cement ground. You all were not permitted to retrieve her corpse. Worst of all, a flash flood and thunderstorm warning shot through the rural area in which you had fought. The agency had quickly ushered you all back into the city to wait for further decisions (and punishments).

Youngbae was probably chained up in his room on behalf of Jiyong's efforts of preventing him from rushing out into the storm. You could hear his ragged groans from inside at times when everyone grew quiet. Thunder cracked outside, and the thick layer of dark clouds prevented the sun from beaming down, as if it were knowingly mourning for his loss. Your group's "Taeyang" had lost his light, after all. Because of your immature support. Because of your lacking judgement. It was your fault. Your goddamn fault for fucking everything up. For breaking your family member's heart.

You dug your face into Daesung's chest the moment he turned to wrap an arm around you. Youngbae's lover was probably getting buried under dirty water in the abandoned construction site while you were burying your shameful tears in a live person's chest.

Little Seunghyun had turned the stove off the moment he heard your light sob, and the room echoed with your cries. Daesung buried the rest of his face into your hair as he shed tears for the woman he had only met once. Big Seunghyun downed the entire glass of wine as if to wash away his grief, as if trying to ignore the group's mourning. Jiyong bit down hard on tongue until the bitter taste of copper stung his taste buds. He was punishing himself for not warning his friend in the beginning. Little Seunghyun couldn't bear the thick depression choking his air flow, and joined you and Daesung on the couch. He hugged you from behind and rubbed nonsensical circles around your wound with his thumb. His brows were furrowed in frustration as he distracted himself by touching you.

Your heart tore into pieces when Youngbae's low, weak grunts changed into full yells of sorrow after hearing your cries through the bedroom door. The cracking of a wine glass joined in on the ear-splitting screams. Daesung's nails shakily dug themselves into your arm. Someone bunched the wall in the kitchen. Maknae pressed his chin tightly onto your shoulder, hard enough for you to expect a bruise to appear later.

The chorus of your different methods of mourning was drowned out by the storm's cacophony outside.

~

The thunder had dulled to very light rumbling. Your heavy heart didn't feel any lighter even when you felt a body being lifted off of you. Guessing from the toned abs and body shape, you assumed that the maknae had fallen asleep on top of you. The warmth from under you made you realize that you ended up getting sandwiched in between Daesung and Seunghyun as you three cried yourselves to sleep.

You weakly groaned as you felt yourself being lifted. You instinctively rested your head in the nape of the man's neck out of familiar conditioning. From the mixture of sweat and deodorant sloppily applied, your eyes snapped open after discovering the identity of the BIGBANG member that had rescued you from the uncomfortable sandwich inferno.

"Youngbae?" you croaked, sobering up immediately to examine him out of worry. Jiyong probably undid his restraints after the man had worn himself out. Your comrade gently placed you on the other couch adjacent from the one occupied by Daesung and Seunghyun. From the shadows (quite literally), the elder Seunghyun and Jiyong appeared to take their seats beside you. The moonlight barely illuminated their faces, leaving you unable to read their expressions.

Daesung and Seungri were awake the moment Youngae came to disturb you three, the expected reactions from trained assassins. Youngbae did not take a seat and instead stood at the window, blankly staring out at the city. Following his gaze, your eyes widened to see the Busan streets littered with debris. It was probably worse than you thought; the dim moonlight only revealed vague silhouettes. It was still raining. You realized that what you thought was a thunderstorm was probably even worse than your expectations.

Youngbae's tanned face appeared ghostly pale from the moonbeams. Despite the dark rings under his eyes, you noticed that his eyes were still able to reflect the white light. His eyes shined with a beauty that now felt very lonely. Your heart twisted, but your own eyes were drawn to his. As an assassin from birth, you were never one to desire anything. But whatever Taeyang's ears yearned for, you wanted to feel the same passion. The same frustration.

"We escape. Right now. Through the storm."

You felt Jiyong's hand encase yours, his slim fingers squeezing yours tightly. Even your leader was drawn to such an otherworldly beauty. Youngbae's white night attracted BIGBANG like moths to street lamps.

Your quivering lips shaped into a weak smile. You'd much rather take a shower in the hurricane than continue taking bloodbaths with the innocent. Doing so with your team only made it even more meaningful. You didn't need the agency. You only needed your family.

[samanthasroberts]

Which Fuckboy You Should Date Based On Your Horoscope

As modern women, we are all doomed to hit it with a fuckboy at least once in our lives, if we want to maintain the steady stream of sexual attention TV and movies say we should be receiving at all times. But which type of fuckboy is the best for you? Well what better way to find that out than to base it on the approximate locations of the planets when you were born? Honestly, seems like a much more accurate system than basing it on the two best photos of someone that may or may not be from 15 pounds ago and a bio that their best girl friend wrote that is almost 100% lies. 

  ARIES: THE EMOTIONAL FUCKBOY

Aries betches are all drama, so they’re going to want a fuckboy who can keep up. What’s the point of having a drunken screaming match in the middle of an Arby’s if the guy you’re yelling at isn’t even going to throw fries at the cashier? Aries enjoy bringing excitement into others’ lives, and what could be more exciting than showing up at someone’s window with gasoline and a lit match demanding to know if he’s sleeping with other people? Your friends will absolutely hate this guy and dedicate entire groupchats to how to get him out of your friend group, but they shouldn’t worry. You will eventually get bored of this fuckboy and impulsively block him on all socials so that you can start the process all over again with one of his closest friends.

TAURUS: THE WEIRDLY OLD FUCKBOY

Taurus betches are down to earth and don’t like inviting instability into their lives. For this reason, they’re going to need a fuckboy who is a little bit more of a fuckman if they want their relationship to work. Sure, his hair may be receding and there’s gray in his beard, but he also has a savings account with over $5 in it and a real apartment that he like, owns. Tauruses are also notoriously bad at breakups, which is why it might be better for you to find someone who is more likely to die before that happens. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this guy wants a real relationship, though. He may be old enough to be your dad, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants to  a dad. You know? 

  GEMINI: THE FOREIGN FUCKBOY

Gemini betches are unpredictable and need constant excitement to avoid being bored, which is why the best fuckboy for a Gemini is one that fully does not even go here. This fuckboy can slip in and out of your life without doing something annoying like becoming friends with your friends or “wanting to know what you’re up to.” Hooking up with this fuckboy is always exciting because you know your time is limited, and his accent is so thick you’re not 100% sure what he’s saying most of the time. If one of you does make the mistake of catching feelings, all you have to do is say Trump won’t let you leave the country and stop answering his texts. Ghost this bro with impunity knowing there’s almost 0 chance you’ll awkwardly run into each other at your local bar.

CANCER: THE MAN-BOY FUCKBOY

Cancer is the mommy of the zodiac, meaning a Cancer betch is going to want a fuckboy that she can take care of—aka “tell what to do.” The best fuckboy hookup for you will be one where you somehow end up staying all day and cleaning his apartment after. For whatever reason, you want a man who needs help setting up his own email account. Luckily, thanks to Judd Apatow & Co., the man-boy thing is very popular amongst men these days so you should have no problem finding one of your very own. Seriously. Just go to like, any bar with a $5 beer/shot special and you’ll be picking his ass up from soccer practice in no time.

LEO: THE AGGRESSIVELY HONEST FUCKBOY

As a Leo betch, you are proud AF and have no time for people who want to fuck with you. That’s why the fuckboy in your life needs to be the rare kind that are aggressively honest about everything. Like, the type of dude who will stop you mid-bone to tell you he’d prefer to have your pelvis at a 45 degree angle. Coded messages and random 3am sad face emojis are not going to work for you. You’d rather have a guy whose dating profile says “My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m on this site” than some d-bag who waits three dates to tell you he’s actually in an “open relationship” by which he means “My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m on this site.” Honesty you can work with. Bullshit mind games you cannot.

  VIRGO: THE FUCKBOY FROM CLASS

Virgo betches are highly intellectual, meaning that you’re going to want a fuckboy who can stimulate both your body and your mind. That’s why when a scruffy looking semi-hipster from your Politics of Developing Nations class slides into your DMs, you won’t hate it. The two of you can be boning one minute, then discussing your professor’s latest lecture series the next. He might even be down to Netflix binge all the fucked up documentaries you usually save for private time. Just don’t be surprised if he starts asking to copy your notes, and def don’t expect this guy to stick around into next semester, no matter how good your thesis is.

LIBRA: THE RICH FUCKBOY

Libra betches have expensive tastes, meaning that any fuckboy who even dreams of hitting it with a Libra better come correct with the budget to do so. If a guy wants the honor of sporadically answering your texts for a period of several months, then he needs to make sure that when he does finally decide to answer he’s inviting you to dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. Any man who thinks he can bring you back to the shitty rowhouse and mattress on the floor that he shares with his 15 unemployed roommates and still get in your pants is fucking delusional. You’ll be uber-blacking home before he can say “Sorry, we’re out of toilet paper.”

SCORPIO: THE HORNY AF FUCKBOY

Scorpio is the horniest of all signs, meaning that scorpio betches are going to need an equally horny fuckboy if the relationship is going to be even remotely rewarding. If he’s not down to exchange nude snaps at work, he is not the fuckboy for you. You don’t even really need to know this fuckboy’s name, TBH. All you need to know is if he’s up and has a semi-functional dick. The two of you will get exactly what you want out of this relationship, and part ways on good terms, until one of you has to inevitably call the other three years later to let them know they should probably get tested for HPV.

SAGITTARIUS: THE PARTYING FUCKBOY

Sagittarius betches are aggressively fun, so you’re going to need a fuckboy who can keep up the pace. You don’t need some lame-ass dude who is going to show up to the club and immediately start badgering you to go home and smoke weed. You need someone who is going to show up with a stolen bottle of Everclear and a friend who says he knows where you guys can “get a boat.” Just please try to remember to tell your friends where you’re going because you two might seriously end up dead in each other’s company.

CAPRICORN: THE INSTA-FAMOUS FUCKBOY

Capricorns, like Slytherins, are very ambitious betches. That’s why you’re going to need a your man to have a certain amount of social credibility before you agree to be his fuckwoman. Anyone with less than two thousand followers on Twitter and Insta, with an average of 3 LPM (likes per minute) is not going to cut it. If you’re going to be hanging out with some dude all night, you need to make sure that dude’s Snap stories are being seen by DJ Khaled levels of people. Otherwise, it’s just not worth it. This way you know that when you unfollow him, he’ll definitely notice and be pissed off for weeks.

AQUARIUS: THE FRIEND/FUCKBOY

Aquarius betches DGAF what anybody thinks of them, which is why you are more than down to break the cardinal rule of not fucking your friends in favor of totally fucking all of your friends. You like to have deep connections and personal history with the people in your life, which is why the friend/fuckboy is perfect for you. The two of you can hop into bed together knowing the full catalogue of shitty things you’ve said about previous lovers, and when you’re done you can just roll over and commence talking shit on The Dud or that kid you were friends with in high school who is like, super Christian now.

PISCES: THE REFORMED FUCKBOY

Dating a fuckboy is tricky for a Pisces betch because pisces, generally, are looking for a real commitment. That’s why you’re going to need to find yourself a fuckboy who has turned his back on his fuckboyish tendencies and is ready for a relationship that also exists outside the hours of midnight and 3am. Does he still wear a flat brim and pounds of body spray that somehow smells both good and bad? Sure. Is he going to freak out when, one week in, you casually bring up that your parents are in town? Nope. He’s all about it. In fact, he has personalized gifts for each member of your family and already knows all their names from memorizing your social media profiles. Just don’t expect him to be good at texting. No man is actually good at texting. 

  Source: http://allofbeer.com/which-fuckboy-you-should-date-based-on-your-horoscope/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/03/20/which-fuckboy-you-should-date-based-on-your-horoscope/

[adambstingus]

Which Fuckboy You Should Date Based On Your Horoscope

As modern women, we are all doomed to hit it with a fuckboy at least once in our lives, if we want to maintain the steady stream of sexual attention TV and movies say we should be receiving at all times. But which type of fuckboy is the best for you? Well what better way to find that out than to base it on the approximate locations of the planets when you were born? Honestly, seems like a much more accurate system than basing it on the two best photos of someone that may or may not be from 15 pounds ago and a bio that their best girl friend wrote that is almost 100% lies. 

  ARIES: THE EMOTIONAL FUCKBOY

Aries betches are all drama, so they’re going to want a fuckboy who can keep up. What’s the point of having a drunken screaming match in the middle of an Arby’s if the guy you’re yelling at isn’t even going to throw fries at the cashier? Aries enjoy bringing excitement into others’ lives, and what could be more exciting than showing up at someone’s window with gasoline and a lit match demanding to know if he’s sleeping with other people? Your friends will absolutely hate this guy and dedicate entire groupchats to how to get him out of your friend group, but they shouldn’t worry. You will eventually get bored of this fuckboy and impulsively block him on all socials so that you can start the process all over again with one of his closest friends.

TAURUS: THE WEIRDLY OLD FUCKBOY

Taurus betches are down to earth and don’t like inviting instability into their lives. For this reason, they’re going to need a fuckboy who is a little bit more of a fuckman if they want their relationship to work. Sure, his hair may be receding and there’s gray in his beard, but he also has a savings account with over $5 in it and a real apartment that he like, owns. Tauruses are also notoriously bad at breakups, which is why it might be better for you to find someone who is more likely to die before that happens. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this guy wants a real relationship, though. He may be old enough to be your dad, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants to  a dad. You know? 

  GEMINI: THE FOREIGN FUCKBOY

Gemini betches are unpredictable and need constant excitement to avoid being bored, which is why the best fuckboy for a Gemini is one that fully does not even go here. This fuckboy can slip in and out of your life without doing something annoying like becoming friends with your friends or “wanting to know what you’re up to.” Hooking up with this fuckboy is always exciting because you know your time is limited, and his accent is so thick you’re not 100% sure what he’s saying most of the time. If one of you does make the mistake of catching feelings, all you have to do is say Trump won’t let you leave the country and stop answering his texts. Ghost this bro with impunity knowing there’s almost 0 chance you’ll awkwardly run into each other at your local bar.

CANCER: THE MAN-BOY FUCKBOY

Cancer is the mommy of the zodiac, meaning a Cancer betch is going to want a fuckboy that she can take care of—aka “tell what to do.” The best fuckboy hookup for you will be one where you somehow end up staying all day and cleaning his apartment after. For whatever reason, you want a man who needs help setting up his own email account. Luckily, thanks to Judd Apatow & Co., the man-boy thing is very popular amongst men these days so you should have no problem finding one of your very own. Seriously. Just go to like, any bar with a $5 beer/shot special and you’ll be picking his ass up from soccer practice in no time.

LEO: THE AGGRESSIVELY HONEST FUCKBOY

As a Leo betch, you are proud AF and have no time for people who want to fuck with you. That’s why the fuckboy in your life needs to be the rare kind that are aggressively honest about everything. Like, the type of dude who will stop you mid-bone to tell you he’d prefer to have your pelvis at a 45 degree angle. Coded messages and random 3am sad face emojis are not going to work for you. You’d rather have a guy whose dating profile says “My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m on this site” than some d-bag who waits three dates to tell you he’s actually in an “open relationship” by which he means “My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m on this site.” Honesty you can work with. Bullshit mind games you cannot.

  VIRGO: THE FUCKBOY FROM CLASS

Virgo betches are highly intellectual, meaning that you’re going to want a fuckboy who can stimulate both your body and your mind. That’s why when a scruffy looking semi-hipster from your Politics of Developing Nations class slides into your DMs, you won’t hate it. The two of you can be boning one minute, then discussing your professor’s latest lecture series the next. He might even be down to Netflix binge all the fucked up documentaries you usually save for private time. Just don’t be surprised if he starts asking to copy your notes, and def don’t expect this guy to stick around into next semester, no matter how good your thesis is.

LIBRA: THE RICH FUCKBOY

Libra betches have expensive tastes, meaning that any fuckboy who even dreams of hitting it with a Libra better come correct with the budget to do so. If a guy wants the honor of sporadically answering your texts for a period of several months, then he needs to make sure that when he does finally decide to answer he’s inviting you to dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. Any man who thinks he can bring you back to the shitty rowhouse and mattress on the floor that he shares with his 15 unemployed roommates and still get in your pants is fucking delusional. You’ll be uber-blacking home before he can say “Sorry, we’re out of toilet paper.”

SCORPIO: THE HORNY AF FUCKBOY

Scorpio is the horniest of all signs, meaning that scorpio betches are going to need an equally horny fuckboy if the relationship is going to be even remotely rewarding. If he���s not down to exchange nude snaps at work, he is not the fuckboy for you. You don’t even really need to know this fuckboy’s name, TBH. All you need to know is if he’s up and has a semi-functional dick. The two of you will get exactly what you want out of this relationship, and part ways on good terms, until one of you has to inevitably call the other three years later to let them know they should probably get tested for HPV.

SAGITTARIUS: THE PARTYING FUCKBOY

Sagittarius betches are aggressively fun, so you’re going to need a fuckboy who can keep up the pace. You don’t need some lame-ass dude who is going to show up to the club and immediately start badgering you to go home and smoke weed. You need someone who is going to show up with a stolen bottle of Everclear and a friend who says he knows where you guys can “get a boat.” Just please try to remember to tell your friends where you’re going because you two might seriously end up dead in each other’s company.

CAPRICORN: THE INSTA-FAMOUS FUCKBOY

Capricorns, like Slytherins, are very ambitious betches. That’s why you’re going to need a your man to have a certain amount of social credibility before you agree to be his fuckwoman. Anyone with less than two thousand followers on Twitter and Insta, with an average of 3 LPM (likes per minute) is not going to cut it. If you’re going to be hanging out with some dude all night, you need to make sure that dude’s Snap stories are being seen by DJ Khaled levels of people. Otherwise, it’s just not worth it. This way you know that when you unfollow him, he’ll definitely notice and be pissed off for weeks.

AQUARIUS: THE FRIEND/FUCKBOY

Aquarius betches DGAF what anybody thinks of them, which is why you are more than down to break the cardinal rule of not fucking your friends in favor of totally fucking all of your friends. You like to have deep connections and personal history with the people in your life, which is why the friend/fuckboy is perfect for you. The two of you can hop into bed together knowing the full catalogue of shitty things you’ve said about previous lovers, and when you’re done you can just roll over and commence talking shit on The Dud or that kid you were friends with in high school who is like, super Christian now.

PISCES: THE REFORMED FUCKBOY

Dating a fuckboy is tricky for a Pisces betch because pisces, generally, are looking for a real commitment. That’s why you’re going to need to find yourself a fuckboy who has turned his back on his fuckboyish tendencies and is ready for a relationship that also exists outside the hours of midnight and 3am. Does he still wear a flat brim and pounds of body spray that somehow smells both good and bad? Sure. Is he going to freak out when, one week in, you casually bring up that your parents are in town? Nope. He’s all about it. In fact, he has personalized gifts for each member of your family and already knows all their names from memorizing your social media profiles. Just don’t expect him to be good at texting. No man is actually good at texting. 

  from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/which-fuckboy-you-should-date-based-on-your-horoscope/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/183585300987

[allofbeercom]

Which Fuckboy You Should Date Based On Your Horoscope

As modern women, we are all doomed to hit it with a fuckboy at least once in our lives, if we want to maintain the steady stream of sexual attention TV and movies say we should be receiving at all times. But which type of fuckboy is the best for you? Well what better way to find that out than to base it on the approximate locations of the planets when you were born? Honestly, seems like a much more accurate system than basing it on the two best photos of someone that may or may not be from 15 pounds ago and a bio that their best girl friend wrote that is almost 100% lies. 

  ARIES: THE EMOTIONAL FUCKBOY

Aries betches are all drama, so they’re going to want a fuckboy who can keep up. What’s the point of having a drunken screaming match in the middle of an Arby’s if the guy you’re yelling at isn’t even going to throw fries at the cashier? Aries enjoy bringing excitement into others’ lives, and what could be more exciting than showing up at someone’s window with gasoline and a lit match demanding to know if he’s sleeping with other people? Your friends will absolutely hate this guy and dedicate entire groupchats to how to get him out of your friend group, but they shouldn’t worry. You will eventually get bored of this fuckboy and impulsively block him on all socials so that you can start the process all over again with one of his closest friends.

TAURUS: THE WEIRDLY OLD FUCKBOY

Taurus betches are down to earth and don’t like inviting instability into their lives. For this reason, they’re going to need a fuckboy who is a little bit more of a fuckman if they want their relationship to work. Sure, his hair may be receding and there’s gray in his beard, but he also has a savings account with over $5 in it and a real apartment that he like, owns. Tauruses are also notoriously bad at breakups, which is why it might be better for you to find someone who is more likely to die before that happens. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this guy wants a real relationship, though. He may be old enough to be your dad, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants to  a dad. You know? 

  GEMINI: THE FOREIGN FUCKBOY

Gemini betches are unpredictable and need constant excitement to avoid being bored, which is why the best fuckboy for a Gemini is one that fully does not even go here. This fuckboy can slip in and out of your life without doing something annoying like becoming friends with your friends or “wanting to know what you’re up to.” Hooking up with this fuckboy is always exciting because you know your time is limited, and his accent is so thick you’re not 100% sure what he’s saying most of the time. If one of you does make the mistake of catching feelings, all you have to do is say Trump won’t let you leave the country and stop answering his texts. Ghost this bro with impunity knowing there’s almost 0 chance you’ll awkwardly run into each other at your local bar.

CANCER: THE MAN-BOY FUCKBOY

Cancer is the mommy of the zodiac, meaning a Cancer betch is going to want a fuckboy that she can take care of—aka “tell what to do.” The best fuckboy hookup for you will be one where you somehow end up staying all day and cleaning his apartment after. For whatever reason, you want a man who needs help setting up his own email account. Luckily, thanks to Judd Apatow & Co., the man-boy thing is very popular amongst men these days so you should have no problem finding one of your very own. Seriously. Just go to like, any bar with a $5 beer/shot special and you’ll be picking his ass up from soccer practice in no time.

LEO: THE AGGRESSIVELY HONEST FUCKBOY

As a Leo betch, you are proud AF and have no time for people who want to fuck with you. That’s why the fuckboy in your life needs to be the rare kind that are aggressively honest about everything. Like, the type of dude who will stop you mid-bone to tell you he’d prefer to have your pelvis at a 45 degree angle. Coded messages and random 3am sad face emojis are not going to work for you. You’d rather have a guy whose dating profile says “My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m on this site” than some d-bag who waits three dates to tell you he’s actually in an “open relationship” by which he means “My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m on this site.” Honesty you can work with. Bullshit mind games you cannot.

  VIRGO: THE FUCKBOY FROM CLASS

Virgo betches are highly intellectual, meaning that you’re going to want a fuckboy who can stimulate both your body and your mind. That’s why when a scruffy looking semi-hipster from your Politics of Developing Nations class slides into your DMs, you won’t hate it. The two of you can be boning one minute, then discussing your professor’s latest lecture series the next. He might even be down to Netflix binge all the fucked up documentaries you usually save for private time. Just don’t be surprised if he starts asking to copy your notes, and def don’t expect this guy to stick around into next semester, no matter how good your thesis is.

LIBRA: THE RICH FUCKBOY

Libra betches have expensive tastes, meaning that any fuckboy who even dreams of hitting it with a Libra better come correct with the budget to do so. If a guy wants the honor of sporadically answering your texts for a period of several months, then he needs to make sure that when he does finally decide to answer he’s inviting you to dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. Any man who thinks he can bring you back to the shitty rowhouse and mattress on the floor that he shares with his 15 unemployed roommates and still get in your pants is fucking delusional. You’ll be uber-blacking home before he can say “Sorry, we’re out of toilet paper.”

SCORPIO: THE HORNY AF FUCKBOY

Scorpio is the horniest of all signs, meaning that scorpio betches are going to need an equally horny fuckboy if the relationship is going to be even remotely rewarding. If he’s not down to exchange nude snaps at work, he is not the fuckboy for you. You don’t even really need to know this fuckboy’s name, TBH. All you need to know is if he’s up and has a semi-functional dick. The two of you will get exactly what you want out of this relationship, and part ways on good terms, until one of you has to inevitably call the other three years later to let them know they should probably get tested for HPV.

SAGITTARIUS: THE PARTYING FUCKBOY

Sagittarius betches are aggressively fun, so you’re going to need a fuckboy who can keep up the pace. You don’t need some lame-ass dude who is going to show up to the club and immediately start badgering you to go home and smoke weed. You need someone who is going to show up with a stolen bottle of Everclear and a friend who says he knows where you guys can “get a boat.” Just please try to remember to tell your friends where you’re going because you two might seriously end up dead in each other’s company.

CAPRICORN: THE INSTA-FAMOUS FUCKBOY

Capricorns, like Slytherins, are very ambitious betches. That’s why you’re going to need a your man to have a certain amount of social credibility before you agree to be his fuckwoman. Anyone with less than two thousand followers on Twitter and Insta, with an average of 3 LPM (likes per minute) is not going to cut it. If you’re going to be hanging out with some dude all night, you need to make sure that dude’s Snap stories are being seen by DJ Khaled levels of people. Otherwise, it’s just not worth it. This way you know that when you unfollow him, he’ll definitely notice and be pissed off for weeks.

AQUARIUS: THE FRIEND/FUCKBOY

Aquarius betches DGAF what anybody thinks of them, which is why you are more than down to break the cardinal rule of not fucking your friends in favor of totally fucking all of your friends. You like to have deep connections and personal history with the people in your life, which is why the friend/fuckboy is perfect for you. The two of you can hop into bed together knowing the full catalogue of shitty things you’ve said about previous lovers, and when you’re done you can just roll over and commence talking shit on The Dud or that kid you were friends with in high school who is like, super Christian now.

PISCES: THE REFORMED FUCKBOY

Dating a fuckboy is tricky for a Pisces betch because pisces, generally, are looking for a real commitment. That’s why you’re going to need to find yourself a fuckboy who has turned his back on his fuckboyish tendencies and is ready for a relationship that also exists outside the hours of midnight and 3am. Does he still wear a flat brim and pounds of body spray that somehow smells both good and bad? Sure. Is he going to freak out when, one week in, you casually bring up that your parents are in town? Nope. He’s all about it. In fact, he has personalized gifts for each member of your family and already knows all their names from memorizing your social media profiles. Just don’t expect him to be good at texting. No man is actually good at texting. 

  from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/which-fuckboy-you-should-date-based-on-your-horoscope/

[recentanimenews]

Bookshelf Briefs 4/23/18

Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Vol. 23 | By Yuto Tsukuda and Shun Saeki | Viz Media – After teaching Hayama the lesson of this entire series, which is to say ‘have fun cooking and trying new things,’ Soma is able to win. Which is more than can be said for the rest of his merry band, as most of the minor good guys are summarily expelled after being defeated, and promptly leave the series, never to be seen again. Well, OK, maybe not. But we still have a few, and those few are ready to hear the tragic backstory of Soma’s father and Erina’s father, and the pressure that comes from needing to constantly be “the best.” Soma, of course, who has lost to his dad CONSTANTLY, doesn’t feel this pressure, which is why he does so well. An excellent volume. – Sean Gaffney

Gabriel Dropout, Vol. 3 | By Ukami |Yen Press – Gabriel Dropout continues to do what it does best: make the reader laugh. We get a new cast member this time around with Taplis, a young angel who hero-worshiped Gabriel and has come down to Earth to see how she’s doing. Needless to say, it’s not a pretty picture. Her addition just helps to give us more opportunities for fun, though. Actually, Gabriel may be the one cast member seemingly ignored by this volume, as the artist has realized that the other girls are easier to use for gags and also character development. She can’t hold her liquor, though, even when it’s amazake. My favorite continues to be troll Raphael, but all these girls are funny and great to read about. – Sean Gaffney

In/Spectre, Vol. 7 | By Kyo Shirodaira and Chashiba Katase | Kodansha Comics – This volume of In/Spectre is more of a short-story volume, adapting two prose stories as well as creating one original story for the manga. The stories themselves are what we’ve become used to—Kotoko listening to the problem and then theorizing us to death. But they’re also decent mysteries, and I don’t mind lots of theorizing if it manages to keep my interest and be visually striking, which the artist is quite good at. Meanwhile, Kotoko may not be getting any (I feel bad for falling for her telling us she wasn’t a virgin in volume one—she was clearly lying), but she remains one of the horniest manga heroines I’ve ever seen, constantly doing anything she can to try and get her boyfriend into bed. Nothing works. – Sean Gaffney

Kuroko’s Basketball, Vol. 21-22 | By Tadatoshi Fujimaki | Viz Media – Throughout this series, we’ve grown so used to Seirin being the underdog that it has to be pointed out to us that they’ve never really played while trying to maintain a lead—something that’s a lot more difficult than it sounds. This is despite the fact that, as everyone watched Kagami, they realize that he has the same magic that was in the Miracle Generation, even if he was never part of it. And it’s going to take that magic to hold on, as they’re up against Kise and his perfect copy, which is able to crush them even with his sitting out a good deal of the game. That said, Kuroko is still the title character, and I’m pretty sure the cliffhanger indicates he’ll solve things. Solid sports shonen. – Sean Gaffney

Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, Vol. 29 | By Shinobu Ohtaka | Viz Media – So Harukyu has won, but is this really what he wanted? The girl he likes, Morgiana, has finally realized that she loves Alibaba even though he’s dead. He’s leading his country thanks to Sinbad… but is that really going to last? The next few volumes shoold tell us — oh no, timeskip! Yes, in time honored shonen tradition, we now jump ahead a couple years, the better to deal with Alibaba, not as dead as everyone thinks (in fact, that makes a terrific running gag) and here to step back into everyone’s lives. Sadly for him, everything is seemingly a perfect utopia now, run by Sinbad. Of course, no utopia is perfect, and I suspect Alibaba will soon be leading some sort of resistance. Once he can explain to everyone that he’s not dead. – Sean Gaffney

My Hero Academia, Vol. 12 | By Kohei Horikoshi | Viz Media – We’re back in class, and it’s time for exams—at least after a very amusing couple of chapters where the students go to mad scientist Mei to get alterations to their hero costumes. But the bulk of this is the provisional license exams, after which they’ll be able to do the hero sorts of things they got in trouble for doing before. That is if they survive the exam, which puts them against other schools in one giant melee battle, and only 200 can pass. This gives nearly everyone a chance to stand out—I particularly liked Midoriya spotting a fake immediately based purely on hero knowledge—and gives the volume tension, as we try to see who’s going to fall and have to be left behind. So glad this is now speeding up. – Sean Gaffney

Takane & Hana, Vol. 2 | By Yuki Shiwasu | Viz Media – This is not quite as hysterical as the first volume, possibly as it’s clearly now an ongoing series rather than a bunch of one-shots, and thus needs to work harder at plot and character development. I like how the author is not shying away from the age difference between the two of them, and the scandal that it would cause were it to get out. We’re also introduced to an old friend and rival of Takane’s, who I think I would like more if he didn’t keep reminding me of Saki from I Hate You More Than Anyone/VB Rose. In the meantime, rest assured that there is still a lot of great humor here—I was especially amused by Takane referring to Hana’s two friends as “Friends A and B.” I love Hana to Yume comedies. – Sean Gaffney

Wotakoi: Love Is Hard for Otaku, Vol. 1 | By Fujita | Kodansha Comics – I picked up Wotakoi more on a whim than anything else, but the manga quickly became one of my favorite debuts of the year. The series actually had its beginning as a webcomic on Pixiv before being picked up by a print publisher. Even more recently, Wotakoi became the basis of an anime. The attention the manga has received is understandable. The story features quirky but relatable characters, four adult friends and coworkers (two couples) who to different extents can be described as otaku. There isn’t much of a plot, but the humor and story revolve around how being a fan of games, manga, anime, cosplay, etc. impacts relationships, romance, and worklife. In some ways, Wotakoi reminds me a little of a more subdued, grownup version of Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun, another series that I adore. Unsurprisingly then, I’m greatly looking forward to reading more of the charming, smile-inducing Wotakoi. – Ash Brown

Yowamushi Pedal, Vol. 8 | By Wataru Watanabe | Yen Press – This volume doubles down on Midosouji—he’s all over it, and twice as obnoxious, and I think your enjoyment of the book will depend on how much you can resist wanting to see someone slug him. The majority of this volume, in fact, does not feature our heroes, as they’re still waiting for Onoda to drag Tadokoro back—which he does, and it’s awesome—but instead focuses on the other teams, showing us their own drive to succeed—as well as the questioning of the rest of Midosouji’s teammates, wondering if this is really the right way to win? We’ve still got a long way to go in this race, but even in omnibus format I want to read it faster and faster. Can’t wait for the next volume. – Sean Gaffney

By: Sean Gaffney