Im just sitting here I my bedroom.

What the fuck how is this happening??????

~~~~

george 💐

follows you everywhere. truly. it was —well — a bit creepy at the start. but he’s incredibly sweet. he walks you home and has attempted the “go out with me?” question before, but never pushes. he just talks with you, asks about your day, and snorts at the gossip you share. you’re all the entertainment he needs. and when you tell him you’re not ready for a relationship he simply tells you he’ll wait.

he is so funny. in a ridiculously dry way that takes a second to click before you burst out in giggles. all he does is smirk in response. he hasn’t said this, but his favorite part of your laugh is the bit just before you understand the punchline. your wide eyes and pursed lips never fail to make his stomach flip.

he doesn’t do too much. he listens with his deep brown eyes and makes you laugh too hard. he uses long fingers to brush fuzz out of your hair or invisible eye lashes off your cheek and pretends like he doesn’t notice he’s doing it. he always catches you when you’re alone and pondering, and it seems he knows exactly what to say.

george also does these terribly good impressions of the annoying girls at school, and you laugh the whole walk to your house before he presses a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye.

you’re the one who asks him out finally. it’s a rainy day and you two are under a bus-stop when you tell him soft and sweet that you think you might not ever feel ready to be with him. you tell him you don’t care about that though, and that you’re bloody well going to be with him if you please. he presses a kiss to your temple that has kept you warm ever since.

paul 💕

paul absolutely adores you and everyone knows it.

he takes you places he claims “no one else knows about”, and enjoys lying on the warm grass looking up at the clouds with you. he turns towards you in the grass and smiles all sweetly and says something stupidly charming and proceeds to act surprised when you go all flushed. “you’ve got a sun burn already?”

if you have classes with him he is totally the type to pass annoying notes while you’re actually trying to pay attention. when he first started getting to know you (read: flirting with you) he seemed like the classic gentleman stereotype: pretty, charming, polite. but the more you get to know and understand him, the more you realize he’s a bit of an ass — and it’s fucking great

he carries your notebooks and things when you walk with him sometimes, and you always find these cheeky little doodles in your notes after. it’s magic really, you never see him open your books yet always find his art hidden there!

he is quite physically affectionate — in a casual way. arms pressed against each other, knees brushing, his hand smoothing down the side of your shirt. you two often go walking in the woods or the random fields he discovers, and he sometimes brings along his guitar to play little tidbits of songs he’s made. he’s always a little embarrassed every time, though he obviously tries to act nonchalant about it.

he likes to kiss the back of your hand when you’ll let him and his lips are always soft and warm :P

he finally asks you out and smiles like the sun itself when you say yes, his hand warm and callused on your cheek. he grins even bigger when you claim you want your first proper date to start with getting fish and chips.

ringo ⭐️

total gift giver. sits down next to you with a pearl keychain all “thought of you, was cheap” he is a very happy-go-lucky guy, and it seems to double when he’s around you. he is so genuine and truly cares for you and it’s the most lovely thing in the world. he likes to lean forward and mumble things low in your ear, his voice all deep and AHHH 💓

he, like all of the beatles, walks you home and has repeatedly asked about how your family is and if they’d like him and the such. he insists on holding your hand so you don’t “trip over the cracks” in the side walk, and he learns the names of random flowers so he can point them out to you on your walks.

he often gets headaches but he pretends they’re worse than they are so you check his temperature and care for him all sweetly. that little bugger.

he loves to introduce you to the people he really loves —like his mates and mum— because why wouldn’t he want to show you off??

he mostly buys you candies, but you also get random little knickknacks as well. little wooden birds and star shaped beads. he gifted you a beautiful journal once and told you to “write all of your thoughts about me in there”

he asks you out during a sunset, the romantic lad, and his voice shakes ever so slightly. he breathes the biggest sigh of relief when you say yes, shoulders dropping an entire three inches before he leans in for a kiss.

john 🤍

he acts like he doesn’t like you. total tease. messes with you just to wind you all up and laughs like mad when you finally snap at him. he ruffles your hair and roughs around with you a little bit just to have an excuse to touch you. bumps into you, repeatedly taps your shoulder, steps on your foot and all of that rubbish.

he is sweet when he wants to be, though. he remembers all the little things you say and is a good listener when you’re really worked up about something.

he always takes his glasses off around you and in result has those little squinty eyes that you adore. you told him once that glasses aren’t so bad, and his cheeks turned a complete shade of red.

he wraps an arm around you when walking in crowded places and snickers little jokes to make you laugh. he’s always trying to impress you, but in reality all you need is his true self. it is kinda cute when he acts all stoic and manly, but it’s only because you know he’s the complete opposite.

his laugh goes all high and breathy when you’re with him, and it’s obvious he adores when you make jokes. he leans into you while he giggles and only stops when he’s gasping for breath. he’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.

when he finally asks you out, low and soft and out of the blue when he’s walking you home, he’s biting his lip so hard you’d be surprised if he didn’t taste blood.

you say yes, of course, and take his sweaty hand to your lips.

~~~~

I mean I did say I wanted to make a comic

rough sketch, done on Magma

Karen Berger’s the name, Cap—and I’d like to know if you’ll take me out tonight.

Lance realizes he’s in trouble about ten minutes into watching Todd eat cold pizza over the sink.

It starts stupid. It always does, with him.

Todd’s in pajama pants that used to be plaid before the pattern gave up, shirt hanging off one shoulder, hair doing… whatever that is. He’s got his foot braced against the cabinet door, one hand on the counter, the other shoving pizza into his mouth like he’s in a competition no one else entered.

There’s grease on his cheek. He doesn’t notice.

Lance is halfway through the kitchen before it hits him like a brick: oh. Oh, this is a thing.

His heart does something annoying in his chest. His brain, of course, decides to quit entirely.

You’re not thirteen, dude, he tells himself. You’re eighteen. You have survived earthquakes, Magneto, Pietro’s cooking attempts. You can handle asking a guy out.

His palms are sweating.

He leans against the doorway, trying to look casual and not like he’s about to pass out.

Todd glances up mid-bite, eyes bright. “Yo, Alvers. You just gonna lurk or you want some?” He holds the pizza box out like an offering. “It’s only mostly congealed, I swear.”

Lance snorts, crossing his arms to hide the way his hands are shaking. “I’ll pass on the biohazard, thanks.”

Todd shrugs, unbothered. “More for me, man.” He stuffs the rest of the slice in his mouth, cheeks puffing out like a frog, and turns back toward the sink.

Lance watches his back, the slope of his shoulders, the way the too-big shirt hangs off him. The inside of his chest feels like a dryer with too many shoes in it.

Just say it.

“Hey, uh. Toad.” His voice comes out rougher than he meant. He clears his throat. “You busy Friday?”

Smooth. Totally normal. Not weird at all.

Todd pauses, hand halfway to the box. “Friday?” He licks sauce off his thumb, squinting over his shoulder. “What, like, this Friday? Or, like, a theoretical Friday in the future, ‘cause time is fake an’ all that?”

Lance blinks. “What? No. This Friday.”

“Oh.” Todd shrugs. “I’unno. Prob’ly nothin’ important. Why? You finally gonna help me steal that popcorn machine from the mall? ‘Cause I been sayin’, it’d really elevate the whole living room vibe—”

“No.” The word comes out too quick, too sharp. Lance winces. “I mean. No. Not… that.”

Todd turns around fully now, leaning his hip against the counter, arms loosely folded, head tipped. He’s listening. That’s worse somehow.

Lance can feel his ears heating up. He pushes his hair back, touches the back of his neck like that’s gonna cool him off. “I was thinking, y’know. Maybe. If you wanted to. We could—”

His brain blanks.

Abort mission. You do not know how to talk to people. You have never successfully talked to anyone in your life.

“We could what?” Todd prompts, grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. It’s curious, not mean. That makes it so much more humiliating.

Lance stares at the chipped tile over Todd’s shoulder. “Hang out. Or whatever.”

Todd snorts. “Dude, we live in the same house. We hang out, like, every day. You literally fling me off the couch when you wanna sit down. That counts as a bonding activity in my book.”

Lance makes a face. “Yeah, but that’s just… There’s, like, a difference. Between hanging out and hanging out.”

Great. Very clear. Flawless communication skills.

Todd blinks. “You know those sounded the same, right?”

“Yeah, well, they’re not,” Lance mutters, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. His heart is pounding so loud he’s sure Todd can hear it. “I mean—like, not here. Not with Blob snoring through the walls and Tabby trying to blow us up for fun. Just. Me and you. Somewhere else. Doing… something.”

Todd’s eyebrows jump. “Ohhh.” He drags the sound out, smirk starting to form. “Somethin’, huh?”

Lance’s stomach drops clean through the floor. “Not—okay, not that, I mean. Unless you want—that is not what I—” He groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Forget it, this is stupid.”

He turns like he’s going to leave, because that’s what he does: bury the feeling, walk it off, pretend it never happened and then lie awake all night thinking about it until he wants to jump out a window.

Todd’s voice comes quick, a little softer. “Whoa, hey, chill, man. I’m just messin’ with you.” There’s the scrape of cardboard against the counter as he pushes the pizza aside. “You’re bein’ all vague an’ mysterious, which, like, mad props for the dramatic flair, but you gotta finish the sentence, dude.”

Lance stops but doesn’t turn around yet. His shoulders are tight enough to crack. He exhales, long and shaky.

Just say it. If he laughs, he laughs. You’ll survive. Probably.

He spins back, leaning against the opposite counter so there’s something solid at his back. He feels like if he’s not touching something, he might float right out of his skin.

“Alright, listen.” He points at Todd, words tumbling out too fast now that the dam’s cracked. “If I say this, you don’t get to make it weird, alright? Or tell the others. Or—like—ever talk about it again unless I start it.”

Todd’s grin softens into something more careful. “Okay,” he says easily, hands up in a little surrender. “Scout’s honor or whatever.”

Lance gives him a flat look. “You were never a scout.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they wouldn’ta let a dude with my tongue in, but point stands, man.” Todd shrugs. “Just say it.”

Lance stares at him for three horrible seconds.

“I wanna take you out,” he blurts. “On Friday.”

Silence.

The words hang there between them like he just dropped a brick on the table. Lance can hear the fridge humming, the faint TV down the hall, his own pulse in his ears.

Todd blinks once. Twice.

Lance rushes to fill the quiet. “I mean, like, not out-out, unless you want it to be out-out, in which case, yeah, that’s—that’s what I meant, but if you don’t, then it’s just, like, two bros doing… structured hanging out, I guess, with, like, food. And maybe a movie. Not, like, a date movie, unless—”

“Lance,” Todd cuts in, and he’s smiling now, slow and warm. “Dude.”

Lance’s mouth snaps shut. His face feels like it’s on fire.

Todd tilts his head, eyes flicking over him. The grin that spreads across his face is bright and a little stunned. “You’re cute, man,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s just now letting himself say it out loud. “Yeah, let’s go out.”

Lance’s brain short-circuits.

He actually says, “…huh?” out loud, because apparently he’s decided to fully commit to being pathetic.

Todd laughs, a quick, delighted sound. He pushes away from the counter and hops up to sit on it, heels kicking lightly against the cabinets. “You heard me. Yes.” He points two fingers at Lance. “Date. Friday. Me, you. Maybe somewhere that ain’t got mold on the ceiling.”

“You—you’re serious.” Lance straightens up, searching his face for the joke, the punchline, the trap.

Todd rolls his eyes. “Yeah, man. I’m serious. Why’re you actin’ like I ain’t been makin’ gross heart eyes at you for, like, a year?”

“You have not,” Lance protests automatically, because if he doesn’t, his heart might actually explode.

Todd snorts. “Bro, I literally wrote your name on my chem notebook with little skulls around it. That’s, like, my version of hearts.” He shrugs, suddenly shy around the edges. “Plus, y’know. You’re, like, the only one who actually checks if I made it home when I disappear for a night. Kinda a big tell.”

Lance blinks at him, the words sinking in slow. “I just—look, I didn’t think you were—”

“Into dudes?” Todd supplies, one brow raised.

Lance rubs the back of his neck. “Into me,” he mutters.

Todd’s expression softens. He nudges Lance’s leg with his foot. “Yeah, well. Surprise, I guess.” He grins again, toothy and warm. “Told ya you’re cute.”

Lance’s mouth twitches, traitorously close to a smile. “You keep saying that, I might start believing you.”

“Good.” Todd shrugs, like that’s that. “You should.”

They stand there for a second in the kind of quiet that isn’t suffocating for once. Lance can breathe. His chest still feels weird, but in a way that’s more like something unfolding than collapsing.

“So.” Todd swings his feet. “What’s the plan, lover boy? You got, like, an actual idea or were you just hopin’ the universe would do the rest?”

Lance snorts. The embarrassment is still there, but it’s looser now, wrapped up in something almost light. “I was thinking we could hit that crappy arcade on 5th. The one that’s technically still open even though half the machines are broken.”

Todd’s eyes light up. “Yo, the one with the janky-ass racing game where the steering wheel comes off if you turn too hard?”

“That’s the one.”

“Lance, that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever suggested to me,” Todd says solemnly. Then he ruins it by grinning. “You buyin’ me those neon slushies, too? ‘Cause I’m a cheap date, but I ain’t free.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Toad. I’ll buy you a slushie.”

“Two slushies,” Todd corrects. “I’m tryna get brain freeze and make out with you at the same time. For science.”

Lance chokes. “That is—wow, okay, we’re just—going right there, huh?”

Todd shrugs, smug. “Hey, you asked me out, man. You don’t get to act shocked I said yes enthusiastically.”

Lance can’t help it; he laughs, the sound rough but real. “You’re unreal.”

“Yeah, but I’m your unreal now, apparently.” Todd hops off the counter and steps closer, tilting his head up to meet Lance’s eyes. He’s right there, close enough Lance can see the stray flecks of gold in his irises. “We can start slow if you want. Just hang out. Hold hands. Throw popcorn at Blob when he snores too loud.”

Lance swallows. His voice comes out quieter. “Yeah. I, uh. I’d like that.”

Todd’s smile softens, losing some of its usual sharpness. “Cool.” He bumps his shoulder lightly against Lance’s chest. “Then it’s a date.”

Lance looks down at him and realizes, with a strange, almost dizzy certainty, that he’s not as scared as he was ten minutes ago. Still nervous, sure. Still figuring out where his hands are supposed to go and how to not be weird about all of this. But Todd’s standing in front of him, relaxed and grinning, like the world hasn’t shifted at all.

Maybe that’s enough.

“Friday,” Lance says, just to hear it out loud, to pin it to something solid.

“Friday,” Todd echoes. He reaches out, hooks one finger in Lance’s hoodie string, and tugs him a tiny bit closer, eyes flicking down to his mouth for half a second before he looks back up. “Don’t chicken out, ‘kay?”

Lance huffs a laugh. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Todd lets the string go and stretches, already turning back toward the abandoned pizza box. “Now gimme five minutes to finish this slice so we can go upstairs and pretend we ain’t absolutely gonna tell Tabby we’re ‘mysteriously busy’ Friday night.”

Lance smirks. “You’re gonna tell Tabby?”

“Hell yeah, I am,” Todd says cheerfully. “Gotta rub it in that some of us are in demand.”

Lance shakes his head, but there’s a helpless smile tugging at his mouth now. He pushes off the counter and reaches for the pizza box, snagging a slice before Todd can protest.

Todd squawks, offended. “Yo! That’s mine!”

“Yeah?” Lance takes a bite, speaking around the crust. “Well, I’m your date now. I get pizza privileges.”

Todd stares at him for a second, then grins, wide and delighted. “Okay, that’s, like, unfairly hot. Keep talkin’ like that, Alvers, I’m gonna kiss you before Friday.”

Lance nearly chokes again.

Maybe, he thinks, as Todd laughs and thumps his back, this whole being painfully, obviously gay about asking a dude out thing isn’t the worst fate in the world.

My Pretty Bitch

technically this fanfic is part five of a series of Stonathan one-shots, but you don't have to read the previous parts to enjoy this one. however, if you'd like to, here is part one, two, three, four & five

rated e | 3,477 words | tags: top steve, bottom jonathan, degradation kink, use of f-slur (for degradation kink, not hate),choking, hand job, light BDSM, aftercare, feelings confessions

“Jonathan,” Steve prompted, calling his attention with a gentle tone, as he rubbed up and down Jonathan's arms. 

He sighed as he, somehow, relaxed even further into Steve, who was sitting in the tub behind him. Jonathan was resting between his legs, back pressed to Steve's front. They were taking a hot bath, to clean up and relax, after some particularly intense sex. It had been Steve's idea. He'd said, ‘A hot, relaxing bath will help your body feel less sore tomorrow while still cleaning you up. It will be better than a regular shower. Trust me’. 

Jonathan felt like he was floating on cloud nine. Steve had somehow managed to make him cum three times, using various sexual acts that had all driven Jonathan totally crazy with pleasure and desire. He'd been so incredibly sweet and so perfectly harsh the entire time–kissing Jonathan with an affection he only dreamed of, not just on his lips but along his chest and thighs too, before Steve would call him a pathetic fag while fucking him as roughly as he could. It was the perfect mix Jonathan craved. And now Steve was caring for him so gently, clearly showing how much he cared and how much he liked having Jonathan around beyond just the sex. 

Steve had been much more affectionate recently, even since Jonathan had shown him the ‘stalker' photographs he'd taken of Steve weeks prior. He wasn't sure of what exactly changed. He was curious, but he refused to ask. He didn't want to risk what he had with Steve. Especially not when their–whatever they were–had naturally evolved to more so easily. This amount of more could be enough for Jonathan, even if it still wasn't exactly what he wanted. He could be satisfied. 

“Jonathan, did you hear me?” Steve repeated as he gave Jonathan's forearms a soft squeeze. His hands trailed up further before he started to massage Jonathan's shoulders. He groaned softly in relief at the feeling of Steve's firm touch. He felt so stiff from all their fun, but the massaging was really helping.