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bigwishes · 5 months

Text

A Night at The Club

[Trade for: @bribri66]

It was a Friday night and Frank had just gotten off late from work and was driving down mainstreet out of the city. He saw a bright glowing neon sign coming up right before his turn. He'd never remembered it being there and he drove this way home every single night. The sign shone brightly "Men's Milk Bar" written in bright pink letters with the neon shape of a man in a cowboy hat under it.

Frank was slowly approaching the turn off to get on the road to go home or to turn into the car park of the new gay bar that had seemingly popped up in the middle of the day. Frank flicked his indicator on and turned off into the carpark of the gay bar almost without even realising.

Frank got out of his car and walked towards the building, he could hear the music pounding outside and could almost feel it through the ground as he got close, lights shined out of the windows and pinks and greens flashed around inside. Frank walked up to the front and saw an enormous muscular man blocking the door and next to him a long line of men. The giant man turned to Frank,

"What do you want Jelly Man?"

The bouncer laughed at Frank as he pocked his large fat stomach and dusted crumbs off his flannelette shirt.

Frank stared blankly at the door and the bouncer chuckled

"sure buddy, don't get lost in there"

The bouncer opened the door and a roar of moans erupted from the lines as Frank cut straight through. Light shot out of the open doors and the heavy thumping of music spilled out onto the streets and called Frank inside like a siren song. The large grizzled man clumsily stumbled inside almost like he was drunk.

Immediately walking through the door Frank was saw two dancers standing before him.

the two men were built like bulls and flaunted it with every movement they made. The both of them approached Frank.

"Well hi big boy" the first said rubbing Frank's shoulders

"We don't get many guys like you in here" the second said patting Frank's fat belly

Frank blushed embarrassed trying to get the words out as the two dancers paraded themselves around him and rubbed up against him. Frank became more and more flustered as the two ripped men toyed and teased with him, slight comments about his guy, his hairy face, his stained and worn out work clothes. Frank wanted to react to being borderline bullied but he couldn't focus as he felt his dick desperately try to uncurl against the tightness of his jeans.

"I don't think our friend hear likes how loud it is Georgie"

"I think you're right Joey"

The two dancers smiled at each other as they ran their hands down Frank's arms, taking his hands in theirs. The two lead Frank through the crowds of men dancing to the music to a large pink stained glass heart shaped door. There was a small neon sign above it the read "Love Factory". The sign pulsed like a heart beat. The two dancers opened the doors and took Frank inside. As the doors closed the music almost completely shut out like the room was sound proof.

Frank walked over to a heart shaped bar stool and sat down, it squeaked and moaned clearly not built for a man of his size.

Georgie walked over to Frank and leant his arms against his lap making the chair squeak even more. Frank's face turned a deep red as he was eye to eye with the almost naked man leaning on him.

"I know you wanna be with us big guy" said Georgie poking his tongue in his cheek

"and I know you wanna be like us big guy" Joey smirked as he pulled something out of a small fridge tucked in the corner.

"Should we Joey?"

"I think we should Georgie"

The two devilishly smiled at one another as Joey placed a glass pint full of ice cold strawberry milk in Frank's hands

"All you need to do big guy is have a drink"

"and we're all yours"

Frank looked down at the milk, slowly brining it up to his lips, his gaze meeting the two dancers as he started to drink. It tasted like strawberries mixed with something with a slight spicy tang, like paprika. It fizzed and bubbled in his mouth and in his throat.

The two dancers began rubbing themselves against Frank, gentle touches slowly turning into groping and kissing. Frank couldn't focus on anything, he tried his best to entertain the the advances of the two dancers but there was only so much of him to go around, and he couldn't focus as there was a strange feeling in his stomach and an terrible itching spreading across his body.

Frank desperately tried to keep up with the two men whilst taking breaks to scratch and itch. He tried to ease the annoyance but whenever to began to itch his face or under his shirt the dancers quickly distracted him pulling his hands away, but every now and again, when he got the chance he felt different. The deep black hair on his face and across his body was getting light and lighter, thinning up, the chunky weight and layer of fat on his gut, chest and arms started to feel tighter and tighter. Even his raspy voice sounded slightly lighter as he moaned.

A few moments later and Frank began to feel dizzy, the tang and bubbling that took place in his throat and mouth had made its way to his brain, it felt like tiny fireworks were going off in his head. Frank slumped slightly on the stool as his dirty flannel work shirt slipped off his arms and back onto the floor. Frank tied to speak but instead of words coming out his mouth simply fell open and bubbly giggles came out instead.

Georgie was standing in front of Frank holding his wallet.

"Looks like his name was Frank, Joey"

"Hmmm he doesn't look like a Frank now"

Frank mindlessly rubbed his face which now felt baby smooth

"What about Frankie?" asked Georgie

"Oh I like that, what do you think Frankie" Joey asked the man formerly known as Frank

He just sat there slack jawed struggling to comprehend what was going on. His hands, once leathery and thick now smooth and strong found their ways creeping up his naked torso, rubbing his new abs and grabbing his pecs as he moaned.

"I think he likes it"

Frankie just sat there admiring his new body and worshipping himself.

-------

A few days had gone by and nobody had seen Frank, a missing persons report was called it but it mysteriously got marked as solved when two cops came into the club and got a free hour alone with the new hottest dancer.

Frank, the big chubby lazy officer worker was gone,

But lucky Frankie, the horny himbo slut was there to fill his place...

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change

536 notes · View notes

ughgoaway · 3 months

Text

An encounter

content warnings; smut (duh), threesome, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, slight cumplay maybe? swearing, drinking and possibly mediocre writing. and also probably more things I'm forgetting...

a/n; idk why, but I have actually never been more nervous to post a fic?? maybe I'm just insecure because JESUS CHRIST writing threesomes is so fucking difficult. I'm just thankful there was only one dick involved in this one. also i fear i made this a little too gay... i mention the girlfriend A LOT. soooo... sorry about that <3

anyway special thanks to @think0fmehigh for being the nicest human ever and encouraging me to try and write this!! she is to blame if this is awful (jk it is all my fault lol)

word count; 5k -ish

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Sweaty bodies press into your sides, the beat of the music pumps through the room, and you can feel the vibrations moving within you. With a heavy sigh and a wide smile, you throw your head back, letting your body move to the song carelessly.

The music was swirling in your brain, and you were carelessly dancing, paying no attention to anyone else around you. So when you feel someone bump into you from behind, you immediately go to apologise.

Before you get a chance, you feel a pair of hands slide around your waist. You flick your eyes down and see perfectly manicured red nails spreading across your stomach, almost as if they were asking permission to pull you back into their body.

Maybe it's the alcohol running through your veins, or the music pumping in your ears, or perhaps the fact that you haven't had a good fuck in 4 months. But you lean back into the mystery person's grip, pressing yourself against their hot body.

A wave of floral perfume overtakes your senses. The sickly sweet scent causes goosebumps to spread over your skin as you fight the urge to throw your head back and bury your head in her neck. sharp nails dig deeper into your skin, and you feel yourself hoping that she leaves crescent-shaped marks behind, to prove that this feeling is real.

After a few minutes of moving together, you gain the confidence to flick your eyes back, to finally see the woman who has been practically fucking you in the middle of a crowded club Heavy eyeliner surrounded her hooded eyes and a deep red lipstick was smudged over her lips. Long curls of hair fell down her neck and chest, and even in the dark lights of the club, you could see her glowing skin, each pulsing light highlighted the thin sheen covering her.

With this newfound confidence, you press your body back against hers, your sticky skin sliding together as you grind against her. The rumble of a groan rips through her chest, and you can feel the vibrations as she presses herself even closer to you. Power thrums through your veins, and you can't help but giggle at the feeling of heat pulsating through you.

After a few minutes of dancing together, you feel her bend down to your ear. You prepare yourself for her hot breath in your ear, for her to whisper filthy things that make you drip down your thighs. You swear you can almost hear her inviting her back to her place, asking if she can bury her face between your legs until you're a sobbing mess.

Instead, she traces the outline of your ear with her tongue and begins pressing kisses to the outside of your neck, nipping and sucking your damp skin.

You let out a shuddered gasp at the sensation, and you can feel a smirk dancing across her lips. She slides her hands down from your waist to the tops of your thighs, inching dangerously close to your barely covered core.

The short skirt you were wearing didn't leave much to the imagination, and you wouldn't be shocked if she’d already caught a glimpse of your red panties from the way you were moving against her.

Once the song ends, you feel her grip around you loosen, and images of her spinning you around and shoving her tongue in your mouth as she gropes your exposed skin come to mind.

Except, before you can process the loss of her, she's slinked off into the crowd, leaving you breathless and annoyingly turned on.

Fucking hell. time for a drink.

You manage to part the sea of bodies and stumble to the bar, you shout over the pumping music and order a vodka cranberry. It might be a basic drink, but it was cheap and cheerful, and just what you need after being pied off by one of the hottest women you've ever seen.

“Put it on my tab mate, what's one more drink?” you hear a deep voice from behind you say, the timbre of his voice makes your pulse skitter. It was silky smooth and dripping with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't confidence or hunger, not even lust. It was just something.

you feel his body press up against you before he slides onto the stool to your left, his hot breath dances over the back of your neck, and you almost shiver at the sensation. But you were more than ready to shoot him down, you didn't come expecting anything tonight, and after dancing with that girl for 10 minutes you're not sure a man could fill the hole she’d left behind.

However, when you flick your eyes over to him, any sense of apprehension melts away and is replaced with pure lust. His dark eyes still managed to glow in the low lights of the club, and his pretty wine-stained lips were already begging to be bitten and kissed. Perfect ringlets framed his face, dark but with swirls of grey dancing through them. A light spattering of facial hair covered his jaw, just enough to scratch your skin deliciously.

“Thanks” you say, smirking over at the mystery man. You pause and wait for him to fill in his name, but he doesn't. Simply smiling smugly and taking a sip of his red wine, you watch a droplet fall on his lips and study the way his tongue darts out to catch it.

His intense eye contact makes you nervous, and you almost pull your eyes away. His heavy gaze was confident, as if he knew something you didn't. You almost scoff at his obvious bravado, but that dies in your throat when you see the woman you were dancing with earlier slink up to his side.

His calloused fingers slide around her waist, and you can see the tension in his grip, his almost white fingertips letting everyone know he was staking his claim on her.

“Hey baby,” she says, bending down and kissing the mystery man messily. You can see their tongues dancing in each other's mouths. The kiss is filthy, all teeth and tongues, perfectly wet and sticky, strings of saliva trailing between the pair.

You can feel yourself yearning to be involved somehow, to be pressed between them. You want to be both of them. You want to feel the grip of his hand around your neck like it is on hers, the subtle display of dominance making your pulse race. But you also want that dominance rattling through your bones. You want to overpower her and let her know who owns who.

The bartender slamming your glass on the bar in from of you pulls you out of the trance you were in, and you already feel a flush covering your cheeks. The heat spreads down your neck and chest, a pretty pink haze covering every piece of your skin. Fucking hell, you hope they didn't notice the way you were gawking at them.

They did, of course.

You start gulping down your drink, needing whatever liquid courage you can get right now. The man grabs your glass to stop you, gripping the base forcefully, “Woah, slow down there, love. Dont want you drinking too much tonight.”

You eye him suspiciously and place the glass down, “no? Why’s that?” You smirk over at the pair of them, tracing the rim of your cup with your ring finger. The girl bites her lips, leaving you completely entranced by the view of them both in front of you.

The throaty laugh from the man in front of you pulls you back once again, and you can see in his eyes that he knows you want her. And that you want him to.

“Well, not to be a cliche,” she starts, tracing your body with her eyes shamelessly, lingering as long as she pleases, “but we saw you across the bar and thought you were beautiful” She finished her sentence with a smirk and a lick of her lips.

You can see the man's hands tense again, pulling her in even closer to his side. The light dances over her exposed legs as she slides into his lap without a second thought, draping herself over him. You can't help but follow the line of her legs all the way up, your eyes catch at the highest slither of skin, and you imagine that if she moved her leg ever so slightly you would be able to see what underwear she was wearing.

But based on how tight her dress was and the lack of panty lines, you would guess the answer is none.

You snort out a laugh at her wording, fanning yourself as the heat of the club begins to get to you, "This is starting to sound like the start of a shit porno”

You gulp down the remainder of your drink and hold eye contact with the man as you do, and you revel in the way his irises darken even further at your teasing actions. You know you couldn't keep up this faux-dominant act much longer, but his reactions were too tantalising to stop. The way his shoulder tensed and his pupils blew out.

You could see his chest shake with laughter every time you pretended to be in control. He could see right fucking through you.

“We were hoping it would end up being more like a good porno,” he drawls out, “if you agree to come home with us, that is” You follow his hand as it runs through his hair, before dropping to his wine glass and wrapping around it.

You can see the glimmer of a tattoo poking out of his sleeve, and you find yourself yearning to know if he has any more. Or if his pretty girlfriend does. Maybe you could trace each one with your tongue, holding eye contact with them as you did.

You know you should mull this over more, make them work for it. But honestly, any fight you might have put up disappeared about 3 months ago.

“Call a cab then, let's go have a little fun”

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The poor cab driver is trying his best to keep his eyes on the road, but he can't help but flick them up to the rearview mirror every once in a while to catch the movie playing out behind him.

You’re sitting in between the two of them, Matty's lips are hot against your neck, licking and sucking every piece of exposed skin. He kisses over the lipstick stains left by Scarlett, smiling as he thinks about sharing you between them. Your face is stained with smudged red as her lips work fervently against yours. The taste of her is almost overtaking your senses. The sweet strawberry flavour fills your mouth.

You only learnt their names when you were desperately kissing Matty outside the club, and you heard Scarlett groan it from behind you. Was it kind of slutty to agree to a threesome before you knew either of their names? Maybe, but you never claimed to not be a slut.

Matty works diligently behind your ear, sucking a deep purple hickey into your soft skin. You moan wantonly at the sensation, and you can feel the smirk on Scarlett's lips at your needy noises. Matty pulls from your neck and twists your head away from Scarlett, pushing his lips against yours harshly and licking inside your mouth.

He snaps away with a heaving chest and smirks over to his girlfriend, “Can fucking taste you on her tongue. Do you like that angel? I can already tell she’s been all over you” You whimper needily, nodding desperately at Matty and pulling his curls, craving his lips back on yours.

Scarlett's hands slide over your chest, palming your boobs and thumbing over your nipples through the thin mesh of your shirt. The scratch of the fabric against your sensitive skin was dizzying, and you had to fight every urge to fall back into her and moan helplessly.

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you both stumbled into the house messily, following Matty's every command. Which led you here, kneeling on the bed in front of him, panting, staring at Scarlett with lust-blown eyes.

“Put on a little performance for me ladies, c'mon” Matty demands, sitting back against the pillows and watching you both wordlessly, his eyes growing dark at the scene playing out in front of him.

Scarlett peels off her poor excuse for a dress, and you watch with wide eyes, tracing over every inch of her body. She tugs at your clothes, and you follow her silent order, ripping off your tiny skirt and flimsy shirt quickly.

You see her hold in a moan at the sight of you just in your panties, her teeth scraping over her lips as she hungrily eyes you over. Your shirt looked bad with a bra, so you decided to forgo one tonight, much to her delight.

She surges forward and pushes you onto the bed below, hovering over you with dark eyes before kissing your neck hungrily, marking you wherever she can reach. With featherlight kisses, she begins moving down your body, flicking her eyes up to you and grinning at the blissed-out look on your face.

Matty hisses as he palms himself over his jeans, the pressure of the heavy fabric against his hard cock was making his head hazy. But he kept teasing himself, watching as his girlfriend began to make her way down your exposed chest. Every new patch of skin was explored, tracing it with her tongue and mouthing over you, nipping and soothing as she moved.

Breathy moans leave your lips at the sensation of her mouth on your skin, the way her hot breath dances over you . Goosebumps arise all over your body. The heat was pulsing in your veins, and it kept growing hotter the further down she moved. Her heavy breathing over your clothed core made you feel as if you were burning from the inside out.

Scarlett flicked her eyes up to Matty and wordlessly asked his permission. After a hasty nod, she grabbed the string of your panties with her teeth and began tugging them down your shaking thighs. Your jaw dropped as you watched the vision in front of you, thoughtlessly you lifted your hips to help her drag your underwear off you.

The cold air against your wet cunt made you gasp, your slick spreading over your inner thighs as you writhed helplessly. With a heavy smirk, Scarlett came crawling back up the bed, gripping your knees and ripping your legs apart, you saw her eyes grow darker at the sight of you all spread out for her.

“Such a pretty pussy, can I taste?” you open your mouth to answer, but before you can get a word out you hear Matty’s voice all around you,

“Go on baby, let me see you eat her”

You feel Matty moving behind you as Scarlett edges closer to your core, pressing wet kisses up your thighs, tasting the slick spread over them. You open your eyes to Matty looming over you, his eyelids heavy, and his chest heaving.

His once perfectly manicured curls are now frazzled from your hands running through them, pulling and revelling in the grunts that were ripped from his throat. His neck was already blooming with purple hickies, scratches framing them perfectly from Scarlett's hands desperately pawing at him.

Scarlett finally puts her mouth on you, licking a broad stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit harshly, moaning desperately at the taste of you, as if she would die without you filling her senses.

She mouthed at you like you were a delicate fruit, spreading your lips with her tongue and tasting every inch she could. Your slick was dripping down her chin, like juice from a peach. She burrowed herself deeper in your pussy, flicking her tongue over your clit and teasing it with the tip.

Just as Scarlett begins her assault on your cunt, Matty crashes his lips onto yours, moving harshly and licking needily at the seam of your closed mouth. He bites down on your bottom lip gently, causing a gasp to fall from your mouth.

Matty seizes the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, smirking at the feeling of you meeting him and tangling them together. He pulls back, panting, trying to catch what little breath he has. When you finally open your eyes again, he can barely see the colour of them, black pupils overtaking every inch.

The fog surrounding you made you feel like you were underwater. All you could hear was your muffled groans and deliciously wet and sticky noses from Scarlett between your legs. Matty pulled your attention back with a cruel laugh as he brought his thumb up to your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open delicately.

You watch as spit falls from his lips, the light catching it as it drops into your waiting mouth. A loud cry falls rips out of your chest as you swallow diligently, and Matty growls as he slams his lips back against yours, chasing the taste of himself.

Scarlett continues to devour you with a sly smirk on her face, listening to your cries muffled by Matty’s lips. He can feel the vibrations of every pretty noise you make. Part of him wants to separate so he can hear your cries, but he can't bring himself to pull away from your waiting mouth.

Eventually, his lack of oxygen means Matty drags himself away from you again, strings of spit spreading between you gleaming in the light. Matty’s lips were puffy and ruby-red from your harsh kisses. They pulled into a familiar smile as he flicked his eyes down to his girlfriend between your thighs.

She holds his eye contact, and you can feel her smile against your core. They ignore you as they stare at each other, treating you as if you're simply there as a toy for their pleasure.

“Does that feel good, angel?” Matty asks teasingly. Just as you whimper out a response, he moves his hands down your chest, pulling and teasing your nipples. You cry weakly, squirming at the onslaught of sensations on your pebbled skin.

The whites of your eyes are all matty can see as you whimper and moan, your jaw drops as he tugs at your tits, and it shakes as he soothes them with his palms

Scarlett continues to consume you, fucking you with her tongue mercilessly, your sopping hole welcoming her hungrily. Each motion brought you closer to the edge, and Matty could tell by your hazy eyes and wrecked moans. But he didn't want you to cum just yet, he needed to drag this out a little longer.

With a harsh tug, he drags Scarlett out from between your thighs, a garbled moan leaves her lips, and Matty can see your wetness covering the bottom half of her face.

You cry at the loss of sensation, but any complaints leave you when you see the image in front of you. Scarlett’s hair was a mess from your hands pulling at it needily, her eyes were hooded and you could see the remnants of her lipstick smudged over her cheeks and chin, the Ruby-woo framing her mouth beautifully.

Matty grunts at the sight and pulls her in roughly, desperately licking in her mouth and devouring her, chasing the taste of you. The musky taste fills his mouth, and they both moan needily, your slick spreading over their faces as they move their mouths together.

You lay there helplessly as they made out above you, entranced by how fucking filthy they looked. Any orgasm that was building within you was quickly fading but you couldn't care less as you watched them in awe.

With a filthy smirk, Matty pulls away from her, flicking his eyes down to you before his grin grows even more. “Get on your hands and knees,” he orders, clicking his fingers at you. Laughing as you immediately begin to scramble, following his every demand.

“Lie down in front of her, she's gonna eat your pretty cunt now, sweetheart” Scarlett nods in a haze, moving without a second thought.

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You lap desperately at her clit, teasing it with the tip of your tongue and sucking on it hungrily. A mixture of her slick and your saliva is dripping down your chin, but all you can focus on is fucking her with your tongue.

But soon your focus is ripped away from you as you feel Matty sink into your needy pussy, you feel your walls welcome him easily, pulsing around his shaft.

Matty stands behind you and smooths his hands over your ass, watching the skin pull under his palms as he pounds into you. Jckhammering his hips as he stares in awe, studying how you desperately mouth at his girlfriend's pussy.

Every swirl of your tongue drives you crazier, the distinctly sweet taste overtakes your senses, and you can't help but eat her out like a woman starved.

The pleading whimpers falling from your lips are muffled by Scarlett's pussy, she feels the vibrations of your begging against her. With each moment the coil in her stomach is only winding tighter and tighter.

She cracked her eyes open to take in the scene in front of her, you mouthing at her between her legs and Matty pumping into you with a merciless rhythm. Part of her wishes Matty was fucking her rather than you, but she soon forgets that when you bury your tongue as deep as you can into her hole and lick her walls, chasing her g-spot greedily. She kicks her legs helplessly at the feeling, ecstasy bubbling in her gut.

Your eyes are closed in bliss as shockwaves rattle through you. Electricity is running through your veins with every thrust. You can tell you’re already nearing the edge, Scarlett's mouth having already brought you so close only minutes earlier. Warning bells go off in your head telling you to warn Matty, but the combination of his deep thrusts and her delicious cunt was dizzying, making it impossible for you to pull away.

If you didn't know better you'd think Matty was in your fucking guts, every thrust feels deeper than the last. He's brutally pumping into you, not giving you any rest before pressing himself as deep as he can inside you.

Somehow, he finds that spot inside of you with each roll of his hips, causing stars to dance across your vision whenever he buries himself inside you to the hilt. You can hear his animalistic grunts behind you every time your warm walls welcome him inside.

Beads of sweat drip from his neck down his chest pooling in his collarbones as he ruts into you, and he can feel your racing pulse in your pussy.

“That feel good angel? You like it when I fuck you this? So. Fucking. Deep.” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust, skin slapping skin and moans are all you can hear in the room, cutting through the thick, hazy air.

Scarlett feels your moans get more are more needy against her she knows you're nearing the edge. The fire pooling in your abdomen is growing too hot to ignore.

Only you can't bring yourself to pull away from her delicious nectar, moaning as you continue to eat her out furiously. Not letting her have a moment of peace, swapping between fucking her hole with your tongue and sucking on her puffy clit. Your fingers grip her thighs tightly, sliding your hands up her legs to pull apart her folds so you can drive further into her cunt.

“She’s- f-fuck. Little slut’s about to cum. I can fucking feel her- ugh- her desperate fucking whines against my cunt.” Scarlett can't help the cry that falls from her lips when she finishes speaking, her words only driving you harder.

Matty laughs cruelly at you both, ripping his hands away from his tight grip on your hips to clasp the back of your head.

“Oh yeah? Is that right angel? You have to make her cum first before you can, sweet girl. C’mon, make her cum all over your pretty face” Matty pushes your head further into her overstimulated cunt, making you both whine and cry out powerlessly.

Scarlett’s words seemingly do the same thing for Matty that they did to you, and you can feel his speed up even more, sinking into you feverishly. The tip of his dick massages your walls as he fucks you.

The burning in Matty's thighs is nothing but an afterthought, all he can focus on is making you feel so good that you can't help but make Scarlett cum. He wants to watch her fall apart in front of him whilst he pumps another girl full of his cum. “You're such a slut, letting us use you like a fucking sex toy. Just here for our- shit- our amusement.” he laughs wickedly at his words, and at the muffled whimper he hears from you afterwards.

Maybe it's Matty’s words or the way your tongue is driving into her mercilessly, but Scarlett finally feels the rubber band inside of her snap. With a shout, she squirts all over your face, covering you and the sheets below in her juices.

She would swear on whatever God there might be that she's never felt this fucking good, every nerve ending is on fire and she can feel a tingle from her toes all the way up to her scalp. Her legs kick helplessly as the sensation continues, dragging on for what feels like forever.

As soon as you feel her release on your face, you can help cumming. Crying into her cunt as you fall apart around Matty’s cock. You're practically convulsing at the feeling, especially when Matty continues to fuck into you with abandon.

But you can’t pull yourself away from Scarlett, so you understand the primal need to keep going. You can feel your pulse in your head, racing as Matty continues to pound into you, the sound of your pumping blood swirling in your ears.

Matty groans and throws his head back. Your wet walls pulsing around him were almost enough to push him over the edge. But Scarlett yanking you by your hair off of her pussy and moving down until she was licking her juices off your face, all whilst holding eye contact with Matty, was the final fucking straw.

With a heavy grunt, Matty empties himself inside of you, each pulse of your walls around him milking his cock. Shockwaves gripped his body as Matty continued his shallow thrusts inside you, the slight overstimulation making his vision blur.

With a heaving chest, Matty stops moving, throwing his head back in ecstasy just as the feelings blooming within him start to dissipate.

Scarlett flops back on the bed unceremoniously, her body aching as she lets out an airy giggle at the absurdity of what just happened. You can't help but join her, breathless giggles falling from your lips, which are only interrupted by a sharp hiss when Matty pulls out of you.

“I know, sorry angel.” Matty pouts as he speaks, but very quickly gets distracted.

“Fuck.” he whispers, watching his cum drip from your weeping hole. The pearly streams of his release fall out of you, leaving milky trails in their wake, decorating your skin beautifully.

“Come over here baby, look how fucking filthy she is” Matty waves Scarlett over and she scrambles up immediately, crawling over the bed to stare at your pussy.

She moans at the sight of her boyfriend's cum dripping out of you, she imagines the taste of him combining with the sweet taste of your cunt from earlier, and the idea makes her mouth water.

Without a second thought, she leant forward and started lapping at your hole, cleaning you up with her tongue. You cry out at the feeling, gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles turn white, and your jaw shakes as the sensations rattle through your bones.

“Stop,” you protest weakly, “if I cum again i think i'll die” You whimper at the feeling of Scarlett's breathy laugh against you, even the puff of hot air feels like too much.

Thankfully, she pulls away quickly, slotting her mouth against Matty’s, dripping his cum from her tongue onto his as she kisses him. He grunts at the feeling, marvelling at the taste of all three of you in his mouth.

Matty briefly thinks that this night might be one of the hottest things to ever happen to him, but his girlfriend moaning against his lips brings him back to earth.

“I'm so fucking glad I went to the club tonight,” you say as you flop forward onto the blanket, flipping over to see Matty and Scarlett sitting at the end, licking into each other's mouths with abandon.

She pulls away with a filthy smirk, eyeing Matty before turning to you and crawling over, “We are too. Turned out better than a shit porno, no?” she giggles as she quotes your words earlier in the night. You see Matty move his hand and lightly slap her ass, smirking at her weak cry.

“Cheeky, but true. It was very nice meeting you…” Matty pauses and in that moment realises he hadn't thought to ask your name this whole night.

You look up at him with a teasing smirk and shake your head, “Y/n. Thanks for asking, by the way,” you turn your focus to Scarlett, pressing your lips against hers with a light giggle.

“y/n, yes. Meant to ask that.” he says with a smirk, following Scarlett's lead and moving up the bed to meet the two of you.

#oopsie i hate this ahhhhh #i think... its not great #but i put too much work into this to not post it #but if we all hate it... i will delete #anyway shut up ace here you gooooo #hope all the queers of 75 tumblr enjoy #matty healy smut #matty healy fic #matty healy x oc x you #matty healy x reader #the 1975 smut #matty healy fanfiction

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fruitcoops · 10 months

Note

Hi Eve! How are you? I wanted to ask if you could please write coops and the cubs going to a gay bar/club for the first time?

I was just thinking about them having that feeling of community and freedom that comes with going to queer spaces, specially after all the hiding and fear they’ve all been through. Very fun and very freeing for all of them 🌈

PRIDE MONTH RAHHHHH!! This house will always have queer joy. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW mentions of alcohol (no drunkenness)

“Hey, hey, hey, sexy thing!” Finn crowed with a brisk wolf-whistle. His hair ruffled in the evening breeze as he—there was no other word for it—swaggered down the walkway to the house. Behind him, Sirius saw Leo and Logan share an amused look.

“You’d better be talking to me, O’Hara,” he warned. Finn just winked, clicking his tongue. Little shit.

Remus’ arm was warm and solid around his waist as he pulled the back door closed behind them and locked it, one hand tucked nicely in Sirius’ back pocket. His jeans were tight (though not as tight as whatever Logan was wearing) and somehow, he didn’t think Remus had missed that fact, judging from the firm pressure of his palm and reluctance to remove it.

“I called the Uber,” Logan informed them, flipping his phone around and around with absent excitement. “T-minus deux minutes.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Leo muttered. Despite his words, Sirius could see the smile pulling at his mouth as he drew Logan closer under his arm.

“What, you aren’t a party animal?” Remus teased.

Leo snorted. “I’m a shit dancer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Non,” Logan protested immediately, shaking him gently by the belt loop. “What happened to ‘best teacher ever’? You’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, grab Fish and find a dark corner.”

“And where will you be?”

“Reviving our reputation, obviously.”

Remus’ smile pressed close to his skin. “They’ll be like this all night, won’t they?” he murmured into the shivery space under Sirius’ ear.

He bit back a grin. “Would you expect anything different?”

“Hmm. No.” A kiss lingered at the hinge of his jaw. “You okay?”

“Me?” Surprise overwhelmed his desire to watch Logan try and coax Leo into dancing on the front lawn; he looked down at Remus and found his brows pinched in the middle. He reached up and pressed his thumb to it, soothing the worry with a smile. “Ouais, of course. I like dancing. I like you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A blush crept up around the collar of Remus’ jacket—he didn’t really need it in Gryffindor’s mild June evenings, but Sirius wasn’t going to protest. He loved the way denim and sheepskin looked against Remus’ light tan. It softened him into comfort and quiet smiles, accented by the growing collection of patches ironed to the back. The tiny rainbow beneath the lapel made his eyes pop when he looked up again. Whatever Remus saw on his face, it made him smile and shake his head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Remus gestured toward him, laughing. “—the puppy eyes. All cute and lovesick.”

Sirius ducked and caught his lower lip between his teeth, pulling with just enough playfulness to make Remus hum. “It’s incurable. You’ll dance with me, yes?”

“Can’t leave you to suffer alone.”

Sirius gave him a jostle, then a squeeze around the shoulders. Remus made a soft noise when he kissed the top of his head. “Can’t suffer when I’m with you, loup.”

The club was already pulsing with life when they arrived.

“I’m going to get drinks!” Logan called over the noise, steering Finn away from the direct line of a wobbly-looking college student. “Meet under the moon sign in ten?”

“Sounds good!” Sirius shouted back with a firm thumbs-up. Rainbows flashed across their faces as he and Remus ducked into the crowd; Logan tracked the brim of his baseball cap for a few seconds before losing it in the throbbing mass of dancers.

He jumped when a hand found the small of his back. “Just me,” Leo said through a smile. His hair glinted like a neon halo in the low light. “Grab me something sweet, hmm? Harz wants—babe, what did you want?”

Finn’s answer was lost under the music; Leo nodded to him, and leaned down again.

“He wants something with oranges,” Leo relayed. He dropped a smiling kiss to the side of Logan’s head and gave one curl a light tug. “Stay out of trouble, cutie.”

“Who, me?”

Happiness seeped through his veins in a honeyed wave as he watched them go. They looked so good together that it was impossible to mistake them for anything but a couple. The drift of Finn’s hand between Leo’s shoulders, Leo’s instinctive lean toward him, their smooth slide through the crowd—Logan couldn’t believe his luck. He had dreamed of this for years, aching for the day he’d be allowed to show Finn off, and later, Leo. They were both too bright to be kept hidden away, no matter how selfishly he wanted to keep them to himself.

It wasn’t their first time going out together and certainly wouldn’t be the last. But he could still enjoy the novelty of watching heads turn and knowing he was the one they’d go home with.

The bartop was just as sticky as he anticipated when he knocked his knuckles against it and waved the bartender over. “Do you have specials?” he asked, leaning in to be heard.

Half-shaved hair fell over one eye as she blew it out of her face. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Something sweet and something with oranges. Plus a Rum and Coke and two beers, please.”

He caught the first part of her nod before a rush of people filled his vision, pushing and elbowing to get closer. Mesh and glitter rubbed up against him; a platform heel narrowly missed obliterating his toe and he jumped with a quiet curse. Someone yelled a “sorry!” that he barely heard in the tangle of drink orders and the thud of a sudden bass drop that left the dancers screaming for more.

The floor swayed in sweeping light and shaking hips—it pulled at him, drawing him in. Half the times he went out in college were simply to go dancing. He had endured far too many Footloose chirps, but it was always worth it in the end. Beneath the chaos, the heartbeat stayed the same. Feet and hands echoing the rhythm, bodies ebbing and flowing with each other like the tide meeting the beach. Glitter-sand coated tacky foam beneath his sneakers. Everywhere, on almost everyone, rainbows sprayed across endless ecstatic faces.

Coming to Pride night had been Sirius’ idea. They were all restless once the first weeks of post-season recovery spat them out again. Why shouldn’t we? he had shrugged, mouth half-full of melting ice cream. Kind of the best night for us. I like it there, anyway.

Logan was oddly proud of him for that.

He checked back at the counter, craning his neck to find the bartender. The crowd had only grown since he arrived, but if she was overwhelmed, her motions didn’t show it. She caught his eye and gave a gesture of ‘one second’; he shouldered his way between a tall woman in head-to-toe leather and someone in a unicorn onesie who was panting like they’d just run a marathon.

“I’m so sorry,” they said loudly with an apologetic shrug as they fumbled to unzip the front. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Logan shook his head. “I’ve seen worse.”

They laughed, pulling the top half around their waist to tie it like a jacket. Their tank top was so damp it was practically see-through. He kept down a sympathetic wince. Some people never learned. “I’m Avery,” they said. “I’d offer a handshake, but I’m fucking drenched right now.”

He stuck a hand out for a fist bump; they laughed again and accepted. “Why the unicorn?”

“Sparkly and rainbow. I don’t usually get to wear it, so I figured I might as well tonight.” Avery jerked their chin toward the bar. “What’s your poison?”

Something tickled at the back of Logan’s mind. He knew that trick. It had been a while since he had to think about it, though. “I’m getting a bunch for my table,” he answered easily. He hoped they’d be ready soon—Finn had a habit of attracting bachelorette parties like wolves to a wounded fawn. His ‘Bambi’ nickname contained multitudes.

Avery nodded, squinting at him between flashes of bright neon. “What’s your name?”

“Logan.”

“You come here often, Logan?”

There it is. Damn. It was so hard to find a nice way out of these things without—

A cheer went up from one side of the room; he caught a glimpse of a large rainbow beach ball bouncing across the crowd’s outstretched hands, all straining to touch it for just a moment like it was a holy relic. Body paint and crop tops and cuffed shorts to fight the heat that only grew worse (or perhaps better) in the sardine-packed bar.

Maybe it didn’t have to be so hard.

“Sometimes,” he answered. His throat tightened and he swallowed it down. No more of that. Pride night. Kind of the best night for us. “With my boyfriends.”

He didn’t remember the last time he had to turn someone down on a night out. Avery’s expression did a funny thing, somehow crestfallen and understanding all at once. “I h—”

“Tremblamalamalay!” Oh. There you are. He hardly had time to turn his head before Finn was there, larger than life and smudging a kiss to his cheekbone with all the grace of a newborn puppy. “Hey, hey, hey, sugar boy. Where you been?”

“Trying to find ‘something orange’, since you can’t pick anything normal,” he snorted, pushing at Finn’s face with no real strength behind it.

“You love it.” Finn’s gaze drifted from him to Avery, still warm, still calm. Logan watched it click in his head—as if on cue, the bartender slid their tray of drinks over. “Thanks so much,” Finn said with a smile, passing her a couple twenties. He handed Logan the tray, then looped a loose arm around his upper back and gave Avery a tilt of the head. “Sorry, but this one’s all mine tonight. Enjoy your drinks.”

“All yours, huh?” Logan muttered as they headed away from the bar.

Finn’s laugh was quiet, if a little shaky; he guided Logan past the swaying groups with ease and a squeeze of his arm. “Been waiting to do that for seven years, baby. You have no idea.”

Except Logan was pretty sure he did, with the way his chest fizzed and tingled under the glory of Finn’s attention. He paused by the edge of the dance floor and drew him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt. The drinks could wait. He certainly had.

Sirius would never be over how well they fit together. Remus was laughing now, all earlier concern a blip in the course of the night. His palm was big and warm at the back of Sirius’ neck; their hips rolled together seamlessly to the thumping bass. Every muscle was relaxed when he dragged a hand down Remus’ side, just to feel him breathe, feel him there.

“Tremzy’s probably back with drinks,” Sirius said into his temple, tucking his chin over Remus’ shoulder.

Remus raised a brow. “And?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” The song changed; he barely noticed. “You look good in blue, Lupin.”

A grin bloomed under the turquoise lights. “Keep talking.”

“Everyone is looking at you.” It almost made Sirius laugh. The interest, the longing. He loved seeing them yearn without a single move their way because they knew—total strangers!—that it would be futile. Remus’ knuckles stroked his cheek and he turned to kiss them softly.

A wild cheer went up when the bass dropped. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend those whoops and hollers were for them. Remus had asked if he was alright earlier, but his face always gave him away. Remus was always down for a good time, but he was never the first to suggest going out. It was a big ask to bring Pride night into it. Sirius knew that, and he loved him beyond words for it.

“Merci,” he whispered into Remus’ ear. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

Remus’ head weighed on his shoulder when he tilted it up to look. There was something searching in his eyes, as if he didn’t quite believe Sirius. He leaned down and kissed the corner of Remus’ mouth; when he moved away, suspicion had been replaced by fondness. “Love you.”

Sirius straightened, keeping his arms tight around Remus’ chest. “I love you, too!”

It was loud enough that several people near them averted their eyes—Remus pressed a hand over his mouth with a flustered noise that poorly matched his vivid, vibrant grin. “If you’re gonna keep doing that, I definitely need a drink.”

“Yes, I will go home with you,” Sirius said loudly. Dodging Remus’ palm was far too easy. “Thank you for asking! I will also get you a drink—mmph.”

Remus’ lower back tensed under his hands as he stood on his toes to deepen the kiss, combing his fingers through Sirius’ hair. No decorum, honestly. Didn’t the man know he was being obscene?

Remus brought one hand between them to poke him in the chest. “You’d better get me that drink,” he threatened.

Sirius kissed him again, softer, then dropped a chaste peck between his brows. “As you wish.”

The change in music seemed fitting as they made their way off the dance floor at last and headed toward the moon-shaped beer logo in the corner. Maneater pounded in his ears, almost louder than Remus’ bark of laughter when they finally broke through and found the booth the cubs had promised.

“I don’t even know,” Leo said when they approached, shaking his head and hiding a smile behind his drink. “Something about a unicorn onesie? Unclear.”

Finn detached himself (and his mouth) from Logan’s octopus-like hold for the briefest second. “Unicorn onesie that was flirting with your boyfriend,” he corrected, breathless like he’d just taken a double shift.

“Because nobody has ever done that before.”

“Pride night,” Logan cut in, then reached over and pulled Leo into a quick, hard kiss that made his drink slosh dangerously toward the rim of the glass.

“You can’t keep saying that every time you want a kiss!” Leo laughed, though he was already leaning in for more.

“Watch me.”

Sirius caught his eye as he sat back up; Logan looked entirely unapologetic, per usual. At least he had the decency to get them drinks. “We can leave,” Sirius said dryly. “If that’s more convenient for you.”

“That would be great, yeah,” Logan agreed.

Sirius rolled his eyes and shooed Leo over to make room. It was a bit of a squeeze, even with Logan splayed on one of Finn’s thighs while he sipped his sugar bomb of a cocktail. Remus tucked himself tight to Sirius’ side—perhaps tighter than necessary, but Sirius wasn’t about to complain. He wondered, briefly, if he could get Remus to sit on his lap as well.

But it seemed Remus had occupied himself already. He surveyed the room with quiet interest and measured breaths, each of which rose and fell in the safe arc of Sirius’ arm. The cubs had already begun amusing themselves with some sort of coaster-stacking game. It was good to see them let loose a little. They deserved a taste of freedom, after everything.

“This is really nice,” Remus remarked.

Sirius glanced back at him. “The beer?”

“Nah. Well, yeah, but…” He trailed off and tipped his head toward the heart of the club, one hand coming to rest on Sirius’ thigh with a light pat. “This. I like this.”

He was still a little sweaty from the dance floor when Sirius kissed the edge of his forehead. The salt was a familiar comfort. Hard work. Enjoyment. “I like you,” he said into a downy fluff of hair, echoing his earlier words.

Remus turned with a sideways smile. His fingertips drummed the thick glass of his beer. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Sirius’ jaw went slack.

“And I don’t tell you that enough,” Remus continued, matter-of-fact and fucking radiant. “So. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I like you so, so much.”

The side of his face lit up technicolor as he spoke. The electric blues and nuclear greens were nothing next to Remus’ watercolor eyes. Deep, warm amber, dripping into Sirius’ life and filling in those empty chasms carved out by unloving hands. He crystallized there, and made it all hurt a little less. Sirius would happily fossilize in those eyes given the chance.

A year ago, he hardly permitted himself to wrap his stick in a single twist of rainbow. The media crucified him for even that. Remus was relaxed here, comfortable, happy. He liked it in this place of June-drenched pride and Sirius couldn’t help but love it, too. He could love it like he loved Remus, like he loved seeing three of his best friends sink into the sweet newness of finally feeling safe. It nestled in the base of his lungs and made a home there.

He leaned in, and kissed Remus full on the mouth.

In the joyous haze of kissing his most favorite person and being kissed back, he didn’t care to spare a thought toward who might have a camera here. Let them take pictures if they wanted. Let them splash his face over tabloids for having the audacity to leave the box they gave him when he first took a jersey. Somewhere, someone would see it in a drugstore or outlet mall or hair salon and know they were not alone. If they wouldn’t encourage it, they couldn’t stop it, either.

Remus sighed against his mouth. Pin-point kisses traveled along his lower lip, up to the corner, up to his cheek, over to his jaw. “What were we ever so afraid of?”

Sirius couldn’t seem to recall.

#sirius black #remus lupin #finn ohara #leo knut #logan tremblay #coops #oknutzy #sweater weather #coast to coast #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fluff #queer joy #pride month #oc: avery

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transbookoftheday · 4 months

Text

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor

It's 1993 and Paul Polydoris tends bar at the only gay club in a university town thrumming with politics and partying. He studies queer theory, has a dyke best friend, makes zines, and is a flaneur with a rich dating life. But Paul's also got a secret: he's a shapeshifter. Oscillating wildly from Riot Grrrl to leather cub, Paul transforms his body and his gender at will as he crossed the country––a journey and adventure through the deep queer archives of struggle and pleasure.

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl is a riotous, razor-sharp bildungsroman whose hero/ine wends his/her way through a world gutted by loss, pulsing with music, and opening into an array of intimacy and connections.

#paul takes the form of a mortal girl #andrea lawlor #genderfluid #nonbinary #trans book of the day #trans books #queer books #booklr #bookblr

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melanieathene · 1 month

Text

Mr. Wonderful

This is a love story.

I'd like to say it was a classic case of love at first sight, but I don't know if that's true.

All I know for certain is that it's a love that was meant to be.

We don't get many quality folk in this dump that calls itself a diner. Truckers who haven't seen a washcloth in days – weeks maybe. Bums who stumble in to get out of the cold, taking up table space long after they've drained the last drop of coffee in their cup. Old folks on a tight budget looking for a cheap meal. Cheaters looking to score, streetwalkers looking to oblige them. Impatient, forlorn, pitiful people. Losers, every one.

He stood out like a sunbeam slicing through a cloudy sky. Clean, well-dressed, and handsome – god, he took my breath away with his movie star good looks. He was way prettier than the models you see in those fancy magazines – the ones I leaf through in the grocery line, but can never afford to buy.

“I'm gonna to marry that man,” I murmured.

Rhonda snapped her gum as she turned her head to follow my gaze. “Him?” She snorted. “Honey, he's out of your league. Married. Or gay. My money is on gay. Look at the long-haired fella he's with. There's something going on between them.”

“I don't care. I want that table. I'll trade you for the party of six.” I hitched my thumb towards table three.

The cackling old biddies sitting there were fussy, but they were surprisingly good tippers. Regulars who liked to meet up after church, or their book club, or whatever. Normally, Rhonda and I butted heads over who got to serve 'em.

“Your loss.” Rhonda shrugged and sauntered away. I saw the good-looking guy shoot a glance at her ample bosom as she walked by.

Gay, my ass.

I popped a couple of buttons on my blouse, the better to display my cleavage. If he liked boobs, mine were an even bigger eyeful than Rhonda's. The rest of the package wasn't bad either.

The green eyes that turned my way as I approached the back-corner booth set me in mind of an emerald I once saw in a store window. Dazzling. No other word for it.

“What can I offer you, gentlemen?” I asked in as sultry a voice as I could muster.

“Well, I don't know,” Mr. Wonderful drawled – and damned if he didn't sound just as good as he looked. “What do you have to offer?” The suggestive smile that accompanied the question set my pulse racing and my cheeks ablaze.

“Dean!” the tall one barked.

Oh-oh. I quickly suppressed a sigh. Jealous boyfriend alert. Abort! Abort!

But it would appear luck was on my side, because the next words out of his mouth were:

“You'll have to excuse my brother. He... He's...” Mr. Tall flung up his hands, as if giving up on trying to explain the unexplainable.

His (hallelujah!) brother grinned unrepentantly.

“I'll have a salad – the house dressing is fine,” Mr. Tall continued, obviously deeming it better for all concerned if he changed the subject. “He'll have the double cheeseburger with fries. And, uh... two coffees, please. Make mine decaf.”

“And pie,” Dean added. His eyes caressed my name tag, before straying over to the curve of my breast. “Apple if you've got it, Sherri with an 'i'. With whipped cream –”

“And a cherry on top?”

“Ahh, a woman after my own heart. Thank you, darlin'.”

I could feel the weight of his stare as I walked away. Who could blame me if I put a little extra wiggle in my walk?

“Not gay,” I whispered as Rhonda and I crossed paths. “With his brother. And he's a first class flirt.”

“Hrmph,” she muttered. “That don't mean nothing. I might bump him from gay to bi, but that's the best I can do for you. My gaydar's never wrong.”

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Rhonda? She's my best friend and I love her to bits, but she can be an insufferable pain in the ass when she thinks she's right. Which is all the time.

I wasn't going to let her be right this time. Mr. Wonderful – Dean! – was the kind of man I'd been dreaming of for far too many years. I was through with settling for Cracker Jack toys! I wanted a real prize. And there he was... not ten feet away.

A glance over my shoulder at the booth showed Dean frowning as Mr. Tall shoved his laptop towards him. They both seemed pretty engrossed by whatever was on that screen. Real serious, like. So it would appear that I had a little competition after all. Digital competition. Pfftt! I wasn't worried about that. With my looks and bubbly personality, most men easily sway the way I want them to go. I fluffed my hair and unfastened yet another button. Hey, when you're going for the gold, you gotta give it all you've got.

I picked up the tray containing their order and called up my best smile. The megawatt one that best shows off my dimples and pearly whites.

That smile dimmed considerably as I turned to face them.

There was a third person in the booth. Another man. Another looker, with dark, wind-swept hair and heavy five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. Dean had scooched over to make room for Mr. Trench Coat, but they were sitting close. Really close. In fact, they were pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee.

Dean caught my eye as I approached and hissed, “Personal space!”

“My apologies,” Mr. Trench Coat replied in a low rumble that rivalled Dean's for the honour of sexiest voice ever. Though why he was apologizing wasn't clear to me. Dean was the one who hadn't moved over far enough in the first place. The bigger question was where he had come from, though. I hadn't heard the bell ring to announce his arrival. It was a mystery that didn't sit well with me.

“Would you like to place an order, sir?” I said, polite and frosty in the same breath, as I set plates in front of the two brothers.

“No.”

No, thank you. Lovely manners you have, there.

Blue eyes lifted to meet my gaze, staring at me – through me – as if they could see into my very soul.

“No, thank you,” he intoned.

And just like that, I was dismissed. I mattered less to him than the cockroaches in the kitchen.

His eyes turned back to Dean. Dean's gaze fell to his plate. Mr. Tall choked back what could have been a chuckle – or maybe he just swallowed funny.

I beat a hasty retreat. But I wasn't done with table nine yet. Dean was clearly a dessert man. And I had pie as my secret weapon. Homemade pie, too. None of that pasty store-bought stuff most dives like ours serve. I baked it myself twice a week to squeeze a few extra bucks from our skinflint boss, and I wasn't beyond letting that little fact slip when I brought a slice over to Dean. So, take that, Blue Eyes.

Confidence restored, I felt almost generous towards the poor guy. I even brought him a glass of ice water – which he didn't touch. Nor did he thank me for it.

It was a fairly busy night, but I kept glancing over to that corner as I hurried about my tasks. Dean had once again inched closer to Blue Eyes – or maybe Blue Eyes was crowding him? Either way, their knees and elbows were knocking. Mr. Tall noticed this too. Judging from the knowing little smirk he wore, it wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen. But even his eyebrows rose when Blue Eyes casually swiped a fry from Dean's plate, and Dean didn't so much as blink. He'd slapped Mr. Tall's hand when he'd tried that trick not five minutes before, hard, growling something along the lines of, “if you insist on eating rabbit food, don't expect me to share the good stuff.”

Blue Eyes dove in for another fry. And then a third. And then he snagged Dean's coffee and took a tentative sip.

Apparently, that wasn't much to his liking. I had to turn away from the sourpuss face he pulled, just so I didn't laugh out loud. When I turned back, Dean was doctoring his coffee – pouring in creamer and adding tons of sugar – all without taking his eyes off the computer screen or his mind off his ongoing conversation with Mr. Tall. He removed the stir stick from the mug and licked it. Blue Eyes took advantage of his distracted state to grab the coffee and cautiously sample the results. He smiled and took a second, deeper drink. And a fourth fry.

It was with considerably less enthusiasm than I had originally planned that I delivered the pie and declared it was made by yours truly.

Oh, I hovered in the vicinity, ready and eager to reap the rewards of my labour, but I had a sinking feeling that Rhonda – once again – was going to be proven right.

Sure enough, I wasn't the one Dean sought out after the first bite. The look of bliss that crossed his face was all I'd wished for – and more – but it was Blue Eyes he turned to. Blue Eyes on the receiving end of an ecstatic smile. Blue Eyes who obligingly opened his mouth when so prompted, and thus received the second forkful of my pie.

What Blue Eyes thought of it, I'll never know. For at that very moment, the bell that had been faithfully announcing arrivals and departures (except for Blue Eyes', of course) blasted from its place above the door, followed by the door itself. Shattered glass flew in all directions, and the metal frame embedded itself in table five. I heard Rhonda scream, saw her limping for the kitchen with blood seeping from a gash on her left leg. Customers who jumped up, preparing to follow her example and flee, were trampled as a horde of people poured into the diner – fifteen – twenty – maybe more. They looked like a biker gang, all dressed in black leather with dangling chains, all tattoos and piercings and unkempt beards. We've had a lot of bikers pass through. Most of 'em never cause a spot of trouble, though a couple of times we've had rival gangs rumbling in our parking lot. But I'd never, ever before seen black eyes like this lot had. Black. So very black. Like the gates of hell must be...

I'm a little hazy on what happened next. There was a lot of hollering and pushing and crashing. Things flew through the air – tables, chairs, even people.

I slipped in a puddle of what I sincerely hoped was ketchup, and felt myself falling... but, somehow, Dean was there to catch me. He scooped me up in his arms like the hero in one of those stupid romance novels Rhonda likes to read. He carried me through the mêlée, shoved me into the restroom, and told me to lock the door and keep it locked.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I didn't have to see any more to know that whatever was happening out there, it was bad. Really bad.

I just prayed the bathroom door was strong enough to keep it from happening to me.

If there had been a window, I would have climbed out of it and run away.

But there wasn't a window. And I would never have known the end of the story if I had skipped out at the middle.

Two clear voices rang out, rising above the continuous chorus of furious shouts and frantic cries. A sudden wash of light crept under the door, almost blinding me with its intensity. The silence that followed was almost worse than the horrible noise that preceded it.

I'm not ashamed to admit I screamed like a little girl when a quiet knock sounded on the door. I was bawling like one too, I was that scared: snot and mascara smearing my face, breath hitching and heart hammering fit to burst.

“Sherri? Sherri, it's Sam. It's over. It's okay to come out.”

“I don't know you, Sam.” I sniffled and drew closer to the door, but I wasn't about to open it. “Why should I trust you?”

“I'm Dean's brother.”

“Where's Dean?”

“He was injured in the attack. Cas is... uh... patching him up. Don't worry, Dean's in good hands.”

“Is Cas a doctor?”

“No... not exactly. He's... It's hard to explain. Sherri, will you open the door? We have to get you out of here.”

“Dean told me to stay put.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” I heard Sam mutter. And then, louder, “Cas! Can you help Dean over here? I need him to convince Sherri that it's safe.”

Slow, shuffling footsteps made their way across the floor. It felt like an eternity before the voice I wanted to hear finally spoke my name.

“Sherri,” he said wearily. “It's Dean. Open the door.”

Blue Eyes was standing there scowling at me when I cracked the door open. His arm was snugly draped around Dean's waist, clearly supporting most of his weight. Dean's arm was slung around Blue Eyes' shoulders, further steading himself. I suppose I should have felt guilty for making Dean come to me in his condition, but I didn't. I flung myself against his chest and hugged him tight. But not too tight, and not for as long as I really wanted to hold him. His quick gasp let me know how much his ribs were hurting him.

“Thank you,” I said, reluctantly stepping back. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“It's what we do. Besides, how could I deprive the world of a five star pie maker like you?” The cocky grin was back and (damn!) it looked good on his face. Even bruised and bleeding, he was one fine looking man.

Blue Eyes' fingers twitched, knotting into the fabric of Dean's shirt. His little finger brushed against bare flesh where the shirt had rucked up. Dean shivered and turned a questioning gaze his way. “Sam will take you home,” he said absentmindedly, as if he'd already forgotten I was still standing there. It was obvious he was trying real hard to fit a puzzle together, as if he'd just found a missing piece and the picture was finally making sense.

Sam ushered me away, his giant hand hovering near my face, ready to shield me from the worst of the carnage, or so I believed at that moment. We were almost to the door when a thought struck me.

“Rhonda!” I exclaimed, suddenly stopping dead in my tracks. “She went into the kitchen. She was hurt.”

“Wait here.” Sam righted a toppled chair and gently but firmly insisted I sit down. I bit my lip as I looked around. Carnage? Where was the carnage? There should have been bodies. Lots of bodies. But there were none, just a strange, dark ash that coated every surface. As if the people had been burned away.

I remembered the blazing light.

Just before it flared, I remembered a voice calling, “Dean! Dean!” Desperation filled the cry. The anguish of a man about to lose all that he held dear. The voice of a blue-eyed man who liked his coffee overly sweet.

And I remembered Dean's voice crying out in reply. One single word: “Cas!” As if the name carried with it a thousand conversations they'd never had – should have had – might now have.

The kitchen door swung on its rusty hinges, and Sam came towards me carrying Rhonda as if she weighed no more than a kitten. She was unconscious, but alive. I felt my heart blossom in relief as I rose from the chair and rested a hand on her arm. Sam led us out the door. Out to the blessed smell of fresh air, where a hint of rain lingered like a promise on the breeze.

I don't know why I turned around for one final look at Mr. Wonderful.

He didn't look back at me.

He and Blue Eyes were too busy staring into each other's eyes.

Slowly, Dean leaned forward. Just as slowly, Blue Eyes tilted his head and leaned in to meet him halfway.

All love stories should end with such a tender, yearning kiss.

And, like I said at the beginning, this is a love story.

It just isn't mine.

Originally posted 2015-03-03. Just thought it might be fun to post some old stories here. :)

#supernatural #spn #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #original character #destiel fanfic

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johaerys-writes · 5 months

Note

I’m not sure if its still wednesday where you’re from, but it is here! So, wip wednesday pls? 🥹💗

Hi!! And yes it's still Wednesday where I am as well, so have a little snippet from the next chapter of you're a walking disaster and yet-- , where Patroclus is a sweet and oblivious country boy (and about to get a massive wake up call lmao):

“So I’m not sure if Achilles has told you, but my birthday is coming up next week. We’ve been trying to decide how to celebrate it.”

“Oh,” is all Patroclus says. He doesn’t want to tell her that Achilles has told him practically nothing about any of them.

“A friend of mine works at the Pulse; he could book us a table. And he'll probably bring us a bottle of vodka or two on the house, as well. We always get free drinks when we go there.”

“You mean Achilles gets us free drinks,” Rhea laughs. “Honestly, I can barely keep up, they come so fast—”

Dei elbows her and gives her a sharp look, and Rhea immediately cuts off whatever she was about to say. Patroclus gapes at Achilles, who flushes bright red.

“Why are people buying you drinks?” Patroclus asks.

“I don’t know, it’s not like I’m doing anything,” he says quickly. “We just… sit there and trays come. Not all are for me.”

“Not all, but the vast majority,” Rhea mutters impishly, and earns another look from Dei.

Patroclus is baffled; he’s never heard of bars where men are given drinks like that. Usually it’s the other way round, men buying women drinks. It’s not like he would know much about it either way, though; he rarely ever goes to clubs or bars or any such places. All he knows for sure is that the few times he’s been, no one bothered to buy him a drink, and it’s kind of unfair, honestly. He isn’t a big drinker, but he wouldn’t say no to some free beer.

“What kind of bar is it?” he asks. “Any bar that gives out free drinks like that seems like a good place to throw a birthday party.”

Phoebe gives him a funny look that he can’t quite place. “It’s a gay club. Well, more like a gay-friendly club these days. The drag shows every Friday are very popular.”

"Oh," Patroclus breathes, but it feels like a gut punch. His brain forgets how to form words, so he just stares at Achilles, who is studiously avoiding his gaze. Patroclus can't fathom what Achilles could have been doing in a place like that, without ever telling him anything about it. Even if Patroclus knew what it looked like, he couldn't imagine Achilles there, not in a hundred years. The fact that he’s been keeping an entire part of his life secret from him hurts in a way that Patroclus can’t explain.

More than all of that, though, the thought of other men buying Achilles drinks, of flirting with him, makes him feel suddenly sick.

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #get wrecked my sweet child #next chapter is finished so it should be up tomorrow (or tonight depending on how editing goes lol)#the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #modern au

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mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse · 1 year

Text

Pain and Bliss

A/N: Being in the Mafia was too much work sometimes, and Dazai wanted to let off steam.

Pairing: PM!Dazai x Fem! Reader (Implied Dazai x Chuuya)

_____________________________

The colorful lights and low bass of the music seemed to pulse in time with the headache behind his eyes. Despite having Aoi poised damn near naked and ever so eager on his lap, and several shots of whatever colorful concoction Hana had whipped up for him swirling in his guts, the desire to let loose and put on the clown mask still didn't come. He still felt the hooks of Mori's authority pulling at his skin, the weight of his responsibilities bowing narrow shoulders, and the disdain for it all burning a hole where his patience would have been.

Dazai sighed as another tremor of pain burrowed in his brain. He knocked back the syrupy drink, and pushed the Aoi off his lap, making her spill onto the wood floor of the club with a loud thump.

"Hey, Dazai! What the hell is your problem?"

He ignored her cries as he slammed his shot glass on the table and stood up. A few heads turned in his direction, but were quick to look away when he tossed his coat over his shoulders. Even with the dim lights of the club it was clear to anyone with half a brain that he was Mafia Black.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and made his way through the elegant velvet couches poised beside glass topped tables, girls dressed to the nines, and drooling men that stared with a lust so strong it even made Dazai himself feeo ill.

He made a beeline to the closed office door, and didn't bother to knock as he kicked open the door. He was unsurprised, maybe even amused, to find you sitting on Chuuya's desk. Your legs were spread wide enough for said mafioso to fit comfortably, hiking your leather skirt up your shapely thighs. Your head was tilted to the side as Chuuya suckled at the tender skin there, no doubt leaving violet bruises that they all could admire later. His large, gloved hands gripped your waist with something Dazai figured was either possessive desire or a desperate want for restraint.

Dazai placed his devil may care smirk on his lips as Chuuya pulled himself from your neck with a glare that would make a lesser man piss himself. "Well aren't you just having a gay ol' time? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

You jumped and pressed yourself into Chuuya's chest, clearly trying to cover up what Dazai had seen a dozen times before. "Dazai! God, you scared me half to death."

"Awe, don't disappear so soon, Bella~. Not without taking me with you."

"Is there a reason you're in my fucking office?" Chuuya snapped. Dazai couldn't help but notice that the pipsqueak still rubbed gentle circles in your hips.

"Other than to indulge in my most favorite hobby which would be to annoy you? Nope!" Dazai leaned against a nearby wall, his smirk growing wider. "Although it looks like I had such wonderful timing as well seeing as how you were attempting to fuck our favorite hostess."

"Yeah? So what? Get the fuck out!"

"A spy for a drug smuggling ring is here. Oops, did I forget to say something earlier?"

Chuuya's eyes narrowed as he clicked his tongue. He removed himself entirely and buttoned his slacks back up. You whined, but were ultimately ignored as Chuuya grabbed his coat, tossed it over his shoulder, and left the office with anger so palpable it made Dazai snicker. The door slammed shut behind him, and Dazai and you were left in silence.

If Dazai felt a little less like boiled depression he may have even gone to follow Chuuya for the hell of it. There was no drug ring spy, of course, another small way to annoy Chuuya and bring himself a twisted taste of joy.

"You know, you don't always have to be an ass, Dazai."

Dazai raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then what would you suggest I become instead?"

You sighed as you hopped off the desk. "Well, for one thing-"

Anything you said went in one ear and right out the other. Why would he bother to listen to tour sermon when your body was far more interesting? He watched you pull your skirt back down your thighs and adjust the sad excuse of rhinestones and leather that counted as your top. He had seen you naked plenty of times by now. Whether it was splayed under his own while he pounded into your warm cunt, or whenever Chuuya bent you over any available surface to take his frustrations out on your ever willing body

Your skin was so soft and pliant, perfect for grabbing in tight fistfulls to keep you in place while you were bent, abused, and used for their pleasure. Whether it was just sexual fun, or perhaps something darker that you didn't dare name aloud but Dazai considered a hilarious blessing.

"Dazai? Hey, Dazai!"

He blinked when he heard his name again. You were practically chest to chest with him now, peering up at him with narrowed eyes amd your hands on your hips. "You're ignoring me, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. Couldn't you tell?"

You sighed and shook your head. "It wouldn't kill you if you took me seriously every once in awhile."

"You?" He laughed deep and low in his chest. "Why in the hell would I take you seriously? You're a lot of things, Bella. Sexy, a good hostess, even a gaijin. However, first and foremost, you're just a holr that I rut into when I'm bored and need something to stick my dick into. If you’re looking for compassion or a relationship else I suggest you bother the pip squeak-"

A loud smack filled the room, and pain erupted on Dazai's cheek. It was the burning sort that only lasted a moment or two, but it was still pain none the less.

The darkness that always seemed to swirl just below the surface of his thoughts bubbled and expanded. On instinct he grabbed you by the shoulder and shoved you back on the desk. You yelped and collided with a dull thunk. In your hurry to catch yourself, you smacked a jar and it tumbled to the floor, fancy fountain pens clattering everywhere.

"Dazai! What are you doing?

The fear that tainted your voice only seemed to fuel him further as he grabbed your skirt and hiked it up and over your ass, exposing a neon pink thong. You pushed at his shoulders and he ignored you as he snapped the thong off with ease, and shoved two fingers into your pussy.

Bella, are you getting off to the person hurting you? It's just as I said: You're just a dirty fucking hole."

More pain lit his nerves on fire, this time along his scalp. His head was forcefully jerked down and Dazai was forced to look you in the eye.

You glared up at him, teeth bared, eyes narrowed. He rumbled in his chest at your defiance in warning only for you to spit in his face. Saliva dripped down his nose and back onto your exposed chest.

"You fucking prick."

"Oh cry me a river. You knew what I was before today." He snapped a hand around your neck, despite the increased pain on his scalp, and squeezed experimentally. "You wanted this."

"Fuck you."

"Oh don't you worry. I'm getting to that, Belladonna."

He hissed and his shoulder muscles tensed and strained as the nails dragged back towards his neck. He could feel something warm and wet run down his ear.

For someone that despised pain, Dazai was injured fairly often. The usual result was a rage filled focus on his rather unfortunate target. As the Port Mafi saying went: The misfortune of Dazai's enemies was that they were his enemies. Here, however, was a rather different result that even he, the Demon Prodigy, hadn't expected. Dazai could feel his cock harden in his slacks and saliva pool in his mouth. As if this was just one of his normal booze and chemical filled romps with you, and not you lashing out like a whining bitch because he didn't want to listen to your sermon.

You, the sly minx, seemed to notice right away. Your hips bucked into him despite the hand still clasped around your neck. The friction was delicious, and despite your laughter ringing in his ears and your nails still embedded in his scalp, he allowed himself to indulge just a touch. He jerked his hips, just for you to dig a heel into his ribs.

"Absolutely not, Osamu Dazai. You don't get to just do whatever you damn well please. Not after all that bravado."

He flinched at the pressure against some older bruising he had hidden between the bandages on his ribs. All of the stinging swirled down through his nerves and down, down, down to his twitching cock. He opened his mouth, but you pressed your heel to his ribs once more, making him bow his head, his forehead pressed to your own, your breaths mingling.

"Bitch."

You grinned up at him looking every bit like the cat that ate the canary. "You know, if you were nicer to me I would help you out with your little 'problem'. "

He grit his teeth as you leaned up and licked a long stripe from his jaw up to his blood coated ear. He could feel his will to fight waning as you nibbled at the lobe, meanwhile your hips moved in slow, almost gentle circles against his dick giving him just enough stimulation to make him shudder.

"C'mon 'samu. I know you wanna cum. Need it, even. You got a call before you could cum down my throat last night, and you didn't get to me first this evening either. We all know you're just a little pent up."

As if to prove your point, you bit the point between his neck and the beginning of his bandages, and an unabashed moan left his lips. She was right and he knew it. If Mori didn't need something then Chuuya stole you away from him. He could dump his cum anywhere else, but they didn't let him make them bleed all over their sheets, to place cold metal to their temple, to use them as he saw fit.

For what he needed in that moment.

Finally, as if someone had cut his strings, he released the hand from your throat. You smiled sweetly and finally released his scalp with a gentle pat to his head. Then, without any warning, you tackled him.

The two of you sprawled onto the ground with you on top of him. Dazai's vision burned stars into his brain for but a moment. He could hear the clink of his belt, before something warm and wet swallowed his cock whole.

His back arched and he bucked his hips, just for sharp nails to dig into his hips bones. He muttered a curse and opened an eye, just to see your cherry red lips pressed against the base of his dick.

And then you swallowed.

Dazai hissed and his toes curled. Everything felt so fucking tight, and his hips stung, and you were so fucking pretty. Another moan was pulled from him, this one higher than the last.

You pulled back and crawled up his body. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails digging in his scalp once more.

"You taste so good, dummy." You licked his lips. "Kinda surprised."

He canted his hips up. He wanted more of her. More of her warmth. More of her body. More of getting the fuck away from the darkness that stood just on the edge of his brain.

Just for one fucking day.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x chuuya #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai x y/n #port mafia #bsd #sukoku

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daisyishedwig · 2 months

Text

@cryscendo and @katyobsesses have been making me think about Hevans today, so I'm gonna share my rewrite of the astronomy room scene from Duets. Will I ever finish this full fic? Who knows.

“I love astronomy,” Sam said, staring up at the planets hanging from the ceiling, “something about all that space makes my problems seem kinda small.”

Kurt rolled his eyes with a smile.

Sam pointed up at the red styrofoam ball directly above his head. “That one’s venus, planet of love.”

Kurt laughed. “That’s actually Mars, planet of war.”

Sam glanced back up and bit his lip. “Which one are we on?” he said with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Earth,” Kurt said, brows furrowing. “Which I need you to come back to for a minute. What changed your mind about the duet?”

“Honestly,” Sam took a deep breath, “watching you sing. You were so confident and incredible up there. It felt like you truly knew who you were. I guess, if I’m going to be in this club, I need that kind of confidence. And I need to not let others talk me down.”

“Commiting social suicide doesn’t make you confident,” Kurt said.

“Maybe not, but hopefully, spending some time with you will. No matter the consequences.” Sam’s pulse was racing, waiting for Kurt to reject him, not fully understanding why he did not want that to happen.

Kurt pursed his lips. “Maybe,” he said, “convince me a duet with you will be better than what I just did on that stage.”

Sam grinned. “Okay. Let’s start with choreography,” he said, pulling his guitar strap over his head. “The singing will be easy,” he said with a spin, “so I’ll just start playing.” He started strumming gently before looking back to Kurt. “Get behind me.”

Kurt stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“Get behind me.” He jerked his head to the side with a lifted eyebrow. Kurt took a breath and set his bag on one of the tables, moving to position himself behind Sam. “Now grab my hips.”

“Sam,” Kurt sqwauked.

“C’mon, I promise it’ll be good.” Kurt cautiously placed a hand on Sam’s waist. “Closer,” Sam instructed. Kurt huffed but did as he was told until his chest was almost to Sam’s back. “And start swaying.” Kurt pressed his free hand to his forehead with a nervous laugh but followed the movement of Sam’s hips. “Now here’s the cool part, give me your hand.” Kurt lifted it slowly and Sam took his hand gently. “Do you know how to play?”

Kurt shook his head with a soft, “No.”

“Oh it’s easy.” He guided Kurt’s hand into position on the fretboard. “Just put your finger there, yeah just like that.”

Kurt was making a concerted effort to keep his breathing steady. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d been this close to another boy that hadn’t been visibly uncomfortable about it. Sam was so relaxed and calm, even as he touched Kurt.

Sam started strumming again, and he looked up to meet Kurt’s eye. He smiled at him, and their faces were so close. Electricity thrummed through Kurt as he stared in shock. Slowly, the tune they were playing started to click in his brain and he pulled away.

“This is a love song,” Kurt said, spinning away from him, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Yeah,” Sam said with shrug, “it’s one of my favorites.”

“We can’t sing a love song, Sam,” Kurt said with disbelief. “The other footballers will crucify you.”

“Because so many of the guys on the team will be watching us sing,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Maybe! Anyone could look in the choir room and see us. Anyone could walk by right now and see us, and you know what they’ll think.”

“That we’re two artists singing a song?” Sam said.

“That you’re gay, Sam! And people at this school are not that accepting, trust me, I’ve lived through hundreds of locker shoves and slushie facials and being thrown into trashcans. That’s the kind of talk Finn was trying to protect you from. That’s the whole reason I set you free to sing with someone else.”

“And why should I care? Isn’t being in Glee going to get me that kind of treatment anyway? Why does it matter what everyone else thinks about me?”

“You don’t understand,” Kurt pleaded, “yes, everyone else is bullied, but none of them experience the shit I do. They get annoyed and frustrated, but they can all walk away from the club if they want it to stop. But me? I can’t do that. Everyone at this school hates me because of who I am, not what I do. And if they think you’re like me? You will never be able to escape it.”

Sam’s face was drawn tight.

“I’m sorry, Sam. Thank you for trying, but I can’t let you do this. Just… sing with Quinn or something, it’ll be safer that way.”

#hevans #sam evans #kurt hummel #glee #daisyishedwig writes

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paperbackribs · 2 years

Text

A lavender pin in his pocket

And the "mmm well, it never came up I guess" that Steve says to Eddie in the library is a coy call back to a few months ago, before Steve and Eddie become SteveandEddie.

He and Robin are at the Hideout to watch Corroded Coffin as they frequently do these days, to support their friend and give Steve an excuse to ogle Eddie without feeling as much of a creep like when they're just hanging out at home.

Robin knows her best friend's motivation and while she had been gentle in her teasing early on, the longer this crush keeps rolling on and Steve refuses to make a move the more the smirks and nudges become full eye rolls and loud exclamations of "yeah Eddie, it was a great show. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from the stage!"

Steve's all glares behind Eddie's distractingly sweaty back while also drawing a thumb across his neck at an unimpressed and uncowed Robin.

Eddie turns those big Bambi eyes to Steve, fluttering his lashes to Stevie, thanking him for his precious patronage.

Steve's blushing because the dimples have also made an appearance and he reckons he's too young for heart palpitations, but the kids have told him enough times that he's an old man so maybe Eddie is just the way he's going to go. He silently sighs in acceptance, so be it.

Steve just says a simple "always" and knocks his shoulder against Eddie's. Raises his voice over the music to say he'll get them drinks before walking over to the bar. He knows the two are probably moving towards the nearest booth, but swears he feels the heat of being watched at the back of his neck.

Steve's at the bar, having given his order for a round of the piss-weak beer that is the Hideout's finest, when a tall and warm body slides in next to him. It's a guy Steve's seen when they've been here before. He's cute, wide eyes and long fingers though a little fair haired for his taste.

Because the thing is, between learning that it's okay to like the same sex in a grotty mall bathroom to an increasing desire to shove his hands down a certain metalhead's ridiculously tight pants, Steve has had his bisexual crisis and awakening. And if he could tell Robin--and truely believe--that it's okay for her to like girls. If he could encourage her to chase love ("53 minutes and 5 seconds, Robin!"), then why can't he do the same for himself.

So Steve has let himself look, he's let himself make eye contact and take up a little suggestive banter. Tonight won't be the first time he's engaged in some light-hearted flirting with a boy at the Hideout. Because, as it turns out, to dear Robin's shock -- there are gays in Hawkins, they are just very low-key and are more likely to visit clubs the town over or to outsider places -- like the Hideout.

Steve hasn't been hiding who he is and allowing himself to look and nearly touch for the first time ever has been freeing. Thrilling. Because Steve likes to flirt, like's the rush of his pulse speeding, the bashful turn of a profile, the bold stares back. It's fun.

But he hasn't taken it much further than that. And if he's truly honest, his heart hasn't really pounded or pulse truely sped up, but it's all still in good fun.

At the heart of the matter though, the reason he keeps it light with the blonde-haired boy at the bar is because of a little pin that he keeps on him at near all times. Burning in his pocket for another boy.

A metal pin of lavender for Eddie's new battle vest. Symbolising healing for a boy who faced down a hoard of demobats and devotation from a one-time jock and all-round babysitter hopelessly in love.

So the blond guy gets pretty close, but Steve eventually walks away, carefully carrying the glasses over to his friends. He dodges around one rowdy group to see Eddie's eyes trained on him in their u-shaped booth. Face straight, gaze heavy.

Steve raises his brows in confusion as he slides in across from him, pushing Robin away unceremoniously with his hip. She squawks, shooting him a dirty look because balance will never be her thing, but it doesn't compare to Eddie's face.

"What?" Steve asks, pushing Eddie's glass into his waiting palm.

"You and that guy were pretty close up there," Eddie's voice is so neutral as to be unnatural.

He's always humming, or hamming it up with a character's voice, calling out 'my leige' to a waiting Steve or 'my bodacious babe' to a snorting Robin. Even at the dead of night, the two of them lying in one of their beds, giving comfort in the face of the usual round of nightmares, his voice is low and soft. Careful like a delicate thing. But never neutral.

Eddie's gay so Steve is pretty sure this is not a homophobic moment. His heart starts that patter again at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Eddie might have been jealous.

While Steve may not have said it he has made his interest in men plain. And he's hinted as hard as he can to Eddie that he wants his interest to be confined to just the one. But Steve can't get a read on Eddie who is just as much of a flirt as he is and that little part of him who hears bullshit, you're bullshit doesn't know if he can risk blowing up their friendship.

So he simply shrugs, "he was cute."

"And you didn't mind that he was hitting on you," Eddie's eyes narrow.

Robin laughs, but her eyes are calculating. Their telepathy is at full power and he knows she's asking to out him, even though he's out already. But Eddie apparently still hasn't put together the clues Steve has left scattered about like blindingly gayconfetti. Steve rolls his eyes at her, permission given.

She leans a sharp elbow on Steve's shoulder, "well, that would be pretty hypocritical of him now, wouldn't it? What'd you say last week - nice ass?" She mimes sticking a finger down her throat, mock-gagging.

"You're gay?" Eddie looks like he's been hit by a demobat right in the face.

Steve shrugs carefully, keeping his gaze on Eddie. "I think you'd say, bi. But yeah, I like men."

"You never said," Eddie's voice is strangled. At least it's better than neutral.

"Mmm, well, it never came up I guess. It's not like I was keeping it a secret.” Steve smiles slightly into his beer, enjoying the emotions running riot over Eddie's expressive face. From amazement, to chagrin, to speculation.

"Oh look, there's that girl from that other night, I might just --" Robin's hand's conduct an invisible orchestra in the air before she clambers over Steve, elbowing him in the chest on the way out. He's mostly sure it was an accident.

It does take the wind out of his sails for a moment, but there's still that look on Eddie's face so he slides deeper into the booth until he's flush against his side.

They're the same height, but Steve's torso is a little longer, giving him the advantage. He moves closer, their noses nearly touching, those damn Bambi eyes looking up at him, making him stupid. He can feel the puff of Eddie's breath against his lips, slightly faster than sitting down warrants.

He licks his own as if to draw Eddie's breath into him and he'll be damned if the other boy doesn't follow the motion, eyes blowing out and lids a little heavier than before. Steve's a flirt so he knows the signs, knows when someone wants to kiss him. He's not making this up, Eddie wants to kiss him.

The thought makes his head that bit more fuzzier, quieting that insecure voice and giving rise to the want that is ever present in his life now. His want and need for this clever, brave, and beautiful man.

"Eddie," he whispers.

Eddie hums in response, questioning. One big question in those wide brown eyes.

And Steve wants to answer with a kiss, with a resounding motion of desire and love, but the Hideout is not the time or place. He's not that stupid.

Instead, he asks what's in his heart. What he wants to start them with, gently and with the knowledge that he can show Eddie his devotion.

"Will you go out with me?"

Eddie grins, swaying a little to him but not closing the distance. Eddie is not stupid either. Never stupid, Steve thinks. The smartest man he probably knows.

"I'd like that, big boy." He curls a length of hair around his finger, bringing it forward over his pretty dimples and beautiful smile. Steve grins in response, tugging the hair away to hook it gently behind his ear. He always wants to see Eddie, see all of him.

And right now won't be the time he kisses him, that will come. And maybe that pin stays in his pocket for a little longer, though not really as long as he tries. But this is that first honest moment in a long succession of many where Steve and Eddie are lost in each other.

This is in response to @hobbitharrington very cool post re Steve loving nature and flowers and gardening (which is why it starts referencing something else) ->

#flowers are steves love language #that pin sits above eddies heart #just think of a cute little flower pin amongst all the metal bands #steddie #stranger things

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