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its-not-sof · 1 year

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12:37am

jaemin smut + fluff

“What? Does that feel good?”

You squirmed under Jaemin’s sensual gaze. He smiled as his fingers continued to lightly stroke your inner thighs, creeping agonizingly slowly to where you wanted him most.

He had been teasing you all night, painstakingly exploring and massaging every inch of your body, searching for the places that made you shiver and sigh and beg for him.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl…” he murmured, enticing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Please, touch me,” you whispered. Jaemin smirked, pleased at your eagerness to follow his directions.

“I’ve been touching you all night, where do you want me now?”

His fingers ghosted across your covered core, gently circling your sensitive bud before pulling back.

“Here?” He murmured, hovering just millimeters from your entrance.

You gasped and nodded quickly, lifting your hips to meet his fingers, longing for the suddenly lost friction.

“Use your words, baby,” Jaemin whispered, leaning in close to press his lips to your neck.

“Jaemin, please, r-right there…” you mumbled, slipping your fingers in his soft hair, keeping him close. You could feel him smile against your skin.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He teased, returning his fingers to your waiting heat.

His long fingers rubbed against you before slipping underneath your soaked panties to make contact with your dripping entrance. It didn’t take him long to find your swollen bud and swiftly start to tease out of you a breathless moan.

His mouth began to suck on your exposed neck, soothing the raw, bruised skin with the tip of his tongue before slipping steadily downward. Jaemin slowly pressed hot kisses down your chest, hands reaching behind you to unclip your bra and shed you of your restrictive garments.

Your nipples hardened in the cool night air, already stiff with arousal at Jaemin’s teasing earlier. Your boyfriend wasted no time in relishing each with attention, his plush lips sucking and nipping at your breasts, his fingers reaching up to tug at the right side while his mouth pleasured the left.

His talented mouth pulled another, slightly higher-pitched moan from your parted lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, trailing his soft kisses down your stomach and stopping right before your dripping cunt.

You shifted your hips again, longing for him to continue. Big brown eyes looked up at you, lidded with desire but still full of devilish joy.

He never broke eye contact with you as he began to suck at your inner thighs again, biting and nipping the soft flesh until you felt like you could scream.

“J-Jaemin, please don’t tease,” you moaned, breathless and blushing with unbridled arousal.

“You know I always take care of you, Y/N…” he murmured, quickly flicking his tongue across your clit before pulling away again.

“N-No,” you practically sobbed as he positioned your thighs over his broad shoulders. “Please, please…”

Jaemin smirked before diving into your aching core with reckless abandon.

His pouted lips closed around your sensitive peak, sucking hard enough to make your vision blur before alternating in soft, fluttering licks that made you buck your hips up off the mattress.

“J-Jaemin, oh god…” you moaned loudly, unable to swallow your cries of pleasure as his talented tongue worked over your core.

“I-I’m gonna, I’m—“ you cried out as your orgasm ripped through your body, pulsating around Jaemin’s tongue. He showed no signs of stopping as he continued to stimulate you through your high.

You tried to pull away as the sensations became too strong, but he held your thighs closer and kept up his pace.

“J-Jaemin, too much, I can’t—“

“You can take it, pretty girl. Just one more, okay?”

Soon, you felt a pleasurable knot start to form again in your stomach, desperate to release with each flutter of his wet muscle.

Your breathing became ragged as you chased your second high on his face. You shuddered again and Jaemin smiled as you fell limp in his arms, your chest still heaving with each labored breath.

“Good girl,” he murmured, massaging your thighs and leaning up to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. You wrapped your arms around his back to keep him close to you.

“I love you. So, so much,” you whispered, holding him tightly. Jaemin smiled.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

Jaemin leaned in and kissed you, hard and passionate before gazing at you with a handsome smirk.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

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flea-the-circus · 11 months

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even if ronance isn’t endgame, i need nancy to have an arc where she chooses her friend. in my head, the only thing that makes sense is nancy choosing robin. not even in the romantic sense (although i would die of happiness if it was), just nancy remembering her choices and not making the same mistakes she made at sixteen.

having nancy go through four seasons of chasing/grieving/fighting for her best friend, only to turn her entire character into a plot device for steve or jonathan, would be the worst possible choice the duffers could make.

#nothing else will ever make sense to me #i need to see a parallel scene from s1 when barb asks nancy to leave at steve’s house #but in s5 it’s robin and nancy goes with her this time #if they waste an entire show’s worth of character development on a love triangle im suing #i have so many scenarios in my head that i want to write about now #obvi i want ronance to be canon but i will settle for nancy’s redemption arc #honestly i’ll settle for anything #as long as they have at least three scenes together im good #i’m rambling sorry #ronance #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

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carlyraejepsans · 1 month

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hibiscia!!! Sorry if youve explained before but is there something specific about reset-remember fics that you hate? I don't really like them either but for me it's just because I feel like a lot of authors type sans in very ooc ways

They're completely antithetical to Sans' character arc for the sake of cheap and easy angst. The nature of his brand of cosmic horror isn't in reliving his life again and again, that's Flowey's. Sans knows OF the anomaly, knows that it's manipulating time and knows it's a threat to the entire universe, but he doesn't know how or why, because he doesn't remember.

And that's crucial! him being mostly in the dark in spite of the MANY warning signs about us... because it's in that doubt that he remains hopeful. YES we could potentially end the world... but what if we don't? yes we have unimaginable power over everyone else and we can bring back time, but what if we're just.... sad? he needs that gap in his knowledge so he can take a leap of faith across it, it's his entire character arc in the pacifist run. sans THINKS he's given up, he wants to have given up, he chose to do it because there's a comfort in that. in contenting yourself with good food and bad laughs. there's peace. but he hasn't given up, not really. on himself? maybe. but not in us.

there's no way to have that arc if he remembers resets.

#this is also why i don't like post pacifist sans angst where he worries about resets. unless there's like a Reason for frisk to reset #kinda like sam did in UG with the incident with the blasters #because ppl take his lines during the NM fight as a given without considering that... it's the fucking NM run? lol #he's talking about reaching the surface from the point of view of a sans who's only ever been antagonized by the anomaly #ie reaching the surface meant through asgore's plan being successful #pacifist achieves that in a scenario where he actively befriends and loves and cares about the anomaly. he trusts us!!#it would feel unfair to his friend if he were convinced they were going to shit on their happy ending. that's a really shitty thing to thin #it's actually sth i wanted to handle in dv. having a kid REALLY fucks with his paranoia. it's irrational but understandable #that doesn't stop him from feeling guilty towards frisk for worrying about it. or feeling worried at all #undertale #sans #answered asks #metanalysis

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 months

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I giggled at this thought so have it as well

Sagau + legacy who tends to hijack Childe at his whims = playable abyss moth :D

oh goodness i was not in a good mood but this made me feel much better thank you

it's a glitch, it has to be a glitch, there's no other explanation for it! you've scoured the internet, watched countless videos, even uninstalled and reinstalled the game multiple times- but nothing could explain why, out of all characters, Foul Legacy had spontaneously become playable and was currently sitting in your party, exactly where your Childe should be. to his credit, he was INCREDIBLY strong, easily sweeping any bosses and enemies you met along the way, but the fact remains that he's not a playable character in the first place! you're worried that your game is being hacked in some way, but when nothing else happens for a few days, well... you can't deny that it was kind of fun to have a character no one else had, and you've always been fond of Childe's Foul Legacy form- you refuse to admit to spending at least half an hour just watching him on screen gushing about how cute he was (he even has his own idle animations!!)

on his end, in the digital world of Teyvat, Foul Legacy is absolutely thrilled that you haven't reacted too badly to his presence- he feared you would hate him for occasionally using Childe's place for himself- he always gives it back afterwards, he promises! Legacy works hard to destroy any enemies in your path, silently trilling in happiness whenever you compliment him. since he's not much in the way of words, he curls up into a comfy Abyss moth ball if you ever put him in your teapot instead of simply standing there, perking up and fluttering his wings when you approach him. and as he promised, he ALWAYS gives Childe back his body at the end of the day- the Harbinger's a little confused and disoriented, but you always greet him enthusiastically when you log in the next day, so he's not really complaining

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kithtaehyung · 22 days

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[ 3tan717d2 ] trying like hell to get drabble #2 out for y’all by month’s end! the first one was cute and that’s fun and all, but.. this one’s a bit spicy ehehe❤️‍🔥

#revisiting an old scenario from one of the ask games ehehe #it’s time!!!#*ryenfictalk #3tanotes #3tan717

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arisushanti · 9 months

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everytime i don’t want to do leg day in the gym, im just gonna pretend im a dragon rider in the fourth wing universe that needs to train more to stay on my dragon

#fourth wing #okay if i’m being real i give the book a 3/5 stars overall cause it’s kinda mid worldbuilding wise #(and after reading the poppy war right before that i feel like i can see what fourth wing could’ve been yknow?)#but anywho no one asked and that aside i still ate that book up lol #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #the empyrean #the fourth wing #also any gym goer + book readers out there that like to imagine they’re in right scenarios or war scenarios from different fantasy worlds

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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For the last 24 hrs I’ve been trying to find the real motel from that production assistant’s s4 bts pic…

#byler #stranger things #would you guys laugh if I said this is the most fun part of theorizing during hiatus to me #I feel like a private investigator #no leads yet #but I’m living my truth #the truth of delusion #what happens when I find the motel you ask?#probably nothing #but I’ll have my answer #and I’ll search through all the pictures on the website and imagine scenarios that could go down in a flashback #from from s4 but intended to be put in early s5 #related to whatever happened during that two day time jump…#technically the drive from Nevada to Hawkins would have been about 26 hrs #I did the math #which means we’ve got about 22 hrs of missing time give or take…#the implications of a motel stop for one night to rest are high…#especially if they thought they won against vecna at the time after the monologue…..#👀👀👀#technically the monologue happened late at night?#so maybe that night they slept at a motel?#and then they left early the next morning?#drove all day and not and got back to Hawkins the following morning…?

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mblue-art · 11 months

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I just saw that post of yours where Lust, where he could learn your native language and tell you sweet words. And I'm sure he would do that!!! But if you say something to Cross in your native language, this poor boy will be very confused. "What did you just say? What does it mean?" Imagine his blushy face when you tell him what it really means.

( /)/////(\;; lust is the sweetest,, , 💜💙 he would,, thank u anons for making me believe that,, will rotate those thoughts in my head kjnsdfkfd///<333 )

confused cro below

#NOOOO I WILL NOT TRANSLATE THE THING I AM. SHY HAHA /lh (iykyk 👍👍👍)#(also the slang messes up the translation in google do not even try 💀💀💀)#either i tell him after unshrimping from the embarrassment and stubbornness--#--OR he somehow remembers wtf i said n asks his bestie epic abt it<333 #(i like the hc that skellies can speak the language/s their creators speak in)#cross!sans #self insert #mblue art #ask #mblue talks #scenarios #CM #EDIT. PLEASE. LIKE I SAID. THE SLANG MESSES UP THE GOOGLE TRANSLATION I AM GOING INSANE /LH #put this in the translation instead 😭😭😭 >>#[ gago. bakit ang pogi mo. ]

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astrobei · 1 year

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for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others.

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket.

Will’s flashlight sputters again.

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight.

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him.

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding.

God. He’s so screwed. “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this.

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

#hiiii quin so sorry but tumblr ate ur og ask #i did immediately memorize it tho bc i read it and i was like Oh Yes #anyways ik u asked for maybe s5 too #and idk why this is where my mind went #there are a million other s5 scenarios that i could've written #but something about byler kissing in dark closets.... haha #yeah <3 #anyways i hope u like this !!#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics #also fun fact for anyone who reads my fics #this was rly close to my og concept for ive come home im so cold #like the third chapter #but that story got away from me so #this isn't the Same but its similar !! kind of.#ok bye

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its-not-sof · 2 years

Text

3:33am

mark smut + fluff

“That feels nice…”

Mark laughed as he continued to run his fingers through your soft hair.

“Yeah?” He murmured, smiling down at you.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax in your boyfriend’s arms. It had been a long day and you couldn’t wait for this moment. The feeling of Mark’s nimble fingers caressing your skin, the warmth of his embrace, and the way he always made time for you to unwind.

Gently, his hands shifted from your hair to your back, applying pressure to your tense shoulders. You couldn’t help the small sigh of pleasure that escaped your lips as he kneaded the knots out of your muscles.

“Mark…” you breathed, burying your face in his neck. Your hands grabbed a fistful of his shirt as his hands moved to massage your lower back.

“What do you need, my love?” He whispered, gently applying more pressure at your hips.

Your heart began to race.

“You.”

At your breathless reply, Mark smiled.

“I was hoping you would say that,” he murmured.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and allowed him to pull you into a soft and lust-filled kiss. He worked you into a hazy state of bliss, gently sucking and nipping at your bottom lip while his hands caressed your sides.

He pulled away only for a moment to slip your thin t-shirt over your head, leaving your bare breasts on display. Your nipples were perked with arousal already.

“You’re so beautiful,” Mark whispered reverently, drinking in the sight of you. “I can’t believe you’re mine…”

Your cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink at his disarmingly honest confession.

“Just kiss me, please,” you muttered with an embarrassed smile.

Mark’s eyes sparkled with amusement when you couldn’t meet his gaze.

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” he murmured, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. He leaned in closer to catch your lips in a gentle kiss.

His warm hands softly cupped your breasts. His talented fingers flicked across your sensitive nipples, causing you to arch your back into his touch. He slowly trailed his lips down to your neck, sucking at the juncture of your bare shoulder before trailing back up behind your ears.

You let out a soft moan when he licked the shell of your ear, nipping at your soft skin.

“M-Mark, please…” you mumbled, slowly becoming undone by his ministrations. Mark softly shushed your pleas.

“You know I always take my time with you, Y/N,” he whispered, grinding against your hips for emphasis.

You bit your bottom lip and stifled a gasp at the sweet friction against your core. You were far too eager to get to the good part, but you knew Mark wouldn’t let you get off that easily.

His lips continued their assault down your neck, sucking hard enough to surely bruise. Your breath quickened as his hands slowly massaged down your sides to the edge of your panties.

He toyed with the lace trim before his nimble fingers made contact ever-so-gently with your folds. You moaned as he circled your clit, giving just enough pressure to tease.

You dug your fingers into his shoulders as he toyed with you, making you shift your hips against him.

“Mark, please—“ you hissed, grinding against his thigh.

Mark hummed against your neck.

“Lie down for me, Y/N,”

You quickly switched positions, letting your back hit the mattress as Mark lingered on top of you. His fingers hooked into your panties and slowly slid them off.

“Spread your pretty legs for me, please?” He murmured, dragging his fingers along the outside of your thighs.

You obediently complied, allowing him to take in the sight of you, fully naked, ready and waiting for him.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, licking his fingers before teasing your core again. Your breath hitched when he made contact.

“Lay back for me, okay?” He whispered, coaxing you back onto the soft pillows.

You lay back, letting out a deep sigh.

You were about to close your eyes when you felt a hot puff of air across your core.

“M-Mark!” You gasped as his tongue licked across your wet folds.

His hands reached up to your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth.

You threw your head back against the pillows when his plush lips closed around your swollen clit, sucking hard before soothing it with the tip of his tongue.

“Mark, I— ah!“

You began to forget your words as he swirled his wet muscle around your most sensitive peak, alternating between sucking and flicking the soft bud.

His fingers massaged your inner thighs before he put them to good use, entering you slowly before curling and thrusting along with his oral stimulation.

You moaned, unrestrained, as he continued to pleasure you.

He knew he held all the cards, having you in such a state. He began to edge you slowly, pulling back to massage your thighs and tease your entrance before diving back in again. You were reduced to breathless moans and whimpers when you slowly felt the pent up frustration start to become too much for you.

“Mark, please, I’m gonna—“

You cried out as he finally tipped you over the edge. He continued to tease you through your high, feeling you shudder around his fingers and tongue.

Your breathing was labored as you began to slip back to reality.

“That was so…” you breathed, unable to finish your sentence. Mark laughed softly.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. A smile stretched across his handsome features as he caressed your flushed cheek.

“My beautiful girl…” he murmured. “I’ll always be here to take care of you,”

You closed your eyes, a soft, satisfied smile still playing on your lips.

“I know,” you said, opening your eyes again to look deeply into his.

“Now let me take care of you, please?”

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

Text

Trey, Leona: The Cat's Meow

Ooooh, I see the vision now... Maybe?? It looks like each member of the same dorm might have a similar default image in the bottom frame of their initial art? Both Ace and Trey have the Queen of Hearts… I guess we’ll have to wait until Cater’s birthday to see if the pattern keeps up?

nfdbwjccwbxgak How fitting to see Trey posed alongside a painting of the Cheshire Cat considering who he’s childhood friends with… and also that Trey’s VA also goices Lucius www (Side note: they fr always gotta have Trey claim he’s “normal” right before he pulls the sussy face which is most certainly NOT normal 😭)

A Tale as Old as Time.

A rotund feline stood on hind legs in a platinum frame, one paw curled under its round chin and resting on its fluffy tail, the other flicked out in a devil-may-care gesture. Purple, pink, purple, pink—its fur was striped in a repeating pattern. Eyes raised upward, the cat looked inquisitive among the gnarled trees, as if posing a riddle to the viewer. Why is a raven like a writing desk?, perhaps.

Huh, I wonder what he's wondering about. Trey rested his chin in one hand as he pondered the painting—and the question.

The longer he gazed at the cat, the more familiar its silly smile seemed to be. How difficult he was to read. A thought crept up on him, one lazy stride at a time.

"... Reminds me of a certain guy," he muttered.

"I hope you’re not talking about me," came a sarcastic drawl from beside him. It, too, was cat-like in its own right, a different flavor of feline: more languid than whimsical. “Because I won’t be laughing like a hyena at jokes made in poor taste.”

"Leona." Trey immediately made to step back, making space for the dorm leader. Leona's immense presence practically demanded it. "No, of course not. I was thinking about a childhood friend.“

“Hmph. You’ve got a childhood friend like this?” He made a face at the Cheshire Cat. A frown to challenge its foolhardy grin. “… Now I almost feel sorry for you, having to put up with a guy like that.”

“Oh, Chenya’s not that bad,” Trey said dismissively. “He’s a troublemaker, sure—but he’s got a good heart beneath all of that, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. The worst is gets up to is playing a trick or two and stealing snacks.”

“What an exciting life,” Leona snorted, clearly not convinced. “He sounds like a real rascal for his age.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes it feels like he never really grew up from the times him, Riddle, and I were rolling around in clover fields and stuffing our faces with cake. Still, he’s our friend—even if we’re far apart for schooling.”

“It was already hard enough to believe you’d be friends with him, but Riddle too?” A smirk rose on Leona’s lips. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

There was a chuckle from Trey. “Ahahah… Does it surprise you? We all come from the same hometown. The community there’s very welcoming. I guess that’s why we ended up reaching out to Riddle one day and… I’m sure you know how the rest of that story goes.”

He didn’t—and nor did he care to know, so he said nothing. Instead, Leona inclined his head. In the dimness of the museum, his eyes glinted a bright green.

He gave a command.

“… Oi, herbivore. Tell me more about this hometown of yours. Tell me what it’s like.”

Trey blinked, slightly flabbergasted at what he was hearing. Leona stared at him expectantly. He clicked his tongue.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.“

Huh, I didn’t think of Leona as the curious type. If that’s what he wants though, who am I to deny it?

“Okay. so…”

Trey returned a hand to his chin. His words, he considered. How to best arrange them to paint the most flattering photo?

Green, so much green. A scattering of red dotting the landscape. Saturation, cheer. Something warm and fuzzy whenever he imagined those scenes—like the sun upon his face.

“Imagine a place bursting with flowers. Every color, every shape, every smell. Some remind you of cotton candy that rots your teeth, others of old shoes and skunk."

Leona's sensitive nose wrinkled at the suggestion. "Real poetic there."

Trey continued. "Everyone knows each other not because the community is small--I'd say it's a decent size?--but because people see each other and talk. They ask how you are, how your family and business are doing. They come over with a platter of cookies to welcome new neighbors, ask if your kids want to come over and play with theirs."

Fond memories played out in his head: the time he had eaten a whole bottle of mustard to prove a point, messing up his signature spell and imparting a loaf of bread with a bad flavor, his first cake at four years old. Everyone had told him he had such talent for baking--but looking back on it, hadn't his "cake" been a lumpy, gooey mess?

"You could screw up pretty badly and they'd still pat you on the head and tell you it's fine, it's just an honest mistake or what a good job you did. My parents are like that too. It must come with the territory."

Leona listened and nodded to every piece of information Trey presented. He appeared bemused as he watched the vice dorm leader, a fleck of sunlight caught in his emerald eyes. Like that of a silent predator stalking innocent prey.

“How picturesque. No wonder you’re so well-adjusted and normal,” Leona purred, his gaze half-lidded. “It must be the power of true love at work.”

“You could say that. The community I grew up in was very loving and supportive. I’m thankful for that.” Trey smirked so briefly that onlookers could have easily missed it. "... It lets me get away with a whole lot more."

"You don't strike me as the kind of guy to act out."

"Not often," Trey corrected. "Only little acts when it's deserved."

"You and your bleeding heart." Leona's scoff gave way to an eerie quiet. From it came a soft, contemplative sigh. "... Must be nice, being able to afford to live so contentedly."

"Ah, you probably didn't have that kind of luxury," Trey recognized. "The life of a prince is different from us common folk."

"There’s pressure to perform and social politics to navigate. Complicated webs that span several circles, grace and relations to uphold, airs to wear. Aaaah, it’s such a drag," the lion beastman groaned.

"Yeah, I can imagine that." Trey smiled sympathetically. "But even though we come from very different places, I'm sure that you also had loving and supportive people in your life, Leona. Everyone does."

"Hah. Are you listening to yourself? You sound as mad as him." Leona jabbed at thumb at the Cheshire Cat. "It's the first-born prince--the one destined to be king--that they all adore."

“… That’s not completely true, is it?” Trey adjusted his glasses. A stray beam of light reflected off the face of them, casting the glass in pure white for a fraction of a second.

The reason Leona was asking about my hometown... It must be genuine curiosity. He's never known something like it. But the fact that he asked must mean he wants to learn, right?

The prince's eyes were angry, suspicious slivers now. "What are you suggesting?"

“I heard from Ace and Deuce that you have a cute little nephew that adores you. A lot of the Savanaclaw underclassman as well. And from Lilia—there’s a grand chamberlain you used to be close with as a kid. Playing chess and getting you out of trouble. Your brother too, he must care for..."

Leona bared his teeth, raised his voice. "Don't act like you know--"

Me. What I've been through, what I've suffered.

"Whoa, whoa!" Trey held up both hands. "Sorry. I said too much. I shouldn't have let my own curiosity get the better of me."

A growl--colored with residual anger--emanated from Leona's throat. "If you understand that, then don't stick your hand into a lion's den a second time."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Trey pulled back, the fingers of one hand curling into a loose first. The other hand found its way to perching at his waist as he leaned his body forward. He attempted an apologetic confession--but instead produced something slightly sinister.

"What are you doing now?"

"Cat to cat communication," Trey said, deadly serious. "You know, like 'nyah'!"

A pause.

"... Is that good enough of an apology?" Trey inquired.

"Don't screw with me," Leona muttered, batting away at his peer's poised "paw". "In the first place, your posture's all wrong. Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Looks like I failed to lighten the mood."

"You're really terrible at it," Leona grumbled under his breath. "You sure that childhood friend of yours is the troublemaker of the group? Cuz to me, I see another troublemaker in the trio."

"I'm a normal high school boy. You even said it yourself."

"And which one of us started meowing at the other out of the blue?" Leona expertly countered.

Trey stifled his voice, which had started to work its way up into an awkward laugh. "Pfft, alright. Point taken."

"Here I was, thinking you were 'normal'," Leona simpered. "The red young master sure has a way with picking the company he keeps. You're all odd to balance out his rationale."

"That's the role a card soldier plays for his queen. Friend, baker, cat, trump card--I'm here to be them all."

#twst imagines #Trey Clover #Leona Kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #Trey birthday takeover #spoilers #something no one asked for #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #this time I basically only referenced the Groovy painting #I didn't find anything super interesting to incorporate from the other paintings mentioned in the vignettes rip #Cheshire Cat

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