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✴︎ sum. you meet detective david loki at a bar, drunkenly taking him home with you. a night that should have been easy turns unexpectedly intimate when he’s slower, gentler, and far more controlled than he looks. SMUT!! drunk hookup, slow burn, vanilla!loki, avoidant!loki, angst, i listened to sm cocteau twins writing this lol
req for anon! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆✴︎˚｡⋆✴︎˚｡⋆✴︎ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆✴︎˚ masterlist 𑣲 playlist
“Mmm—I, uh.. think you might be assuming I’m.. more intense than I am.” Loki murmurs, his breath warm against your mouth.
You’ve got him backed against your apartment door, your clumsy fingers stilling in the loosening knot of his tie. Your lips are slotted messy and desperate against his, and he can taste the sticky-sweetness of the bar on your tongue.
When his words slip past the humming, live wire gin-and-tonic buzz in your head, your heart skids to a stop.
You can’t pull away fast enough. Rejection burns in your ears. You can’t help but think you aren’t drunk enough for this.
You leave Loki’s tie loose, fingers numb and clumsy where they let go. “i’m sorry—fuck, shit—did I…”
“No,” he says softly, quickly. But there’s a subtle firmness to it. His hand catches your wrist, his big fingers encircling your wristbone. His warmth hits you a half-second late, your nerves lagging with the reeling of your head.
He smiles down gently at you, oddly enough. Huffs an almost-laugh through his nose. It lightens the flood in your chest, just a little.
“Hey,” Loki breathes, head dipping closer to yours. It’s electric in itself. “You didn’t do anything,” he tells you.
The words land slow in your chest. You swallow, throat dry. “I thought… I thought you were okay with,” you gesture to the scant, swaying space between you, “this.”
He blinks hard, twice, his pale blue eyes flicking to your mouth and back; like it’s an effort not to look too long.
You notice his other hand on your waist, not knowing when it got there.
“I was.” His thumb presses lightly, and you hear his breath hitch in his throat. “I am.”
“Then what…?” you start to murmur, searching Loki’s face.
There was a paradoxical unreadability about him. He had that tightness, that control, like a string pulled too-tight around his chest. But there was something else there, too. Something warm and boyishly nervous.
“I haven’t done this in… Christ. I just want to slow down.” He says, trailing off close to your ear. His pale blue eyes search yours, bracing for your reaction. “Yeah? That okay?”
Something about the low silk of his voice makes you shudder.
“…Yeah. Okay.”
You feel his hold on your wrist tighten, just slightly, his hand on your waist staying rooted. You’re close enough to smell his aftershave, breathe it in.
“‘m not good at doing it slow,” you slur against his neck, the words bubbling past your teeth easier than they should. You can feel him swallow, thick. His breathing stutters for a moment before he can rein it in.
You press a kiss to the tattoo on his neck, filing away the thought to ask him about it later. “Don’t mean to come on so strong.”
“You didn’t come on strong,” he murmurs. His hand leaves your wrist, then hesitates—hovering, reconsidering before it cups the back of your neck. The touch is steady, yet the choice behind it is far from effortless.
He tilts your head up, gentle, making you look at him. “You came on honest.”
“What do you mean?”
His hand slides up your waist, controlled, thumbing the hem of your shirt. “You know…” His voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I deal with people aalllll day who hide what they want. You didn’t.”
“Then what? what’s your issue, mm?” You demand, hands fisting clumsily in his shirt, still buttoned all the way up.
You didn’t exactly bring guys home with you to take things slow.
His shoulders rise with a small breath. It almost reminds you of a boy scout, preparing for battle, or whatever boy scouts do.
“I’m just…” He shakes his head, sheepish in his own way. He blinks hard. “Slower than I seem. More straightforward. I haven’t, uh, done a lot of things.”
His thumb brushes back and forth, pressing lightly into your side. You can’t tell if it’s to ground you or reassure himself.
“And I’m a little drunk,” he admits, quiet smile playing at his lips. “So I’d rather say it now—when it’s easy—than do the whole… ‘we’re about to tear each other apart’ thing.”
“So.. slower,” you echo, your hand slowly finding the collar of his shirt. You feel his breath hitch. “That’s it?”
“…Most of it.”
You slowly undo the very top button of his collar, watching his body language. His shoulders square like he’s braced against something internal.
“And the rest?”
He blinks hard down at you, eyes flicking. You start to recognize it. His lips part for a moment, and he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck.
“The—uh… control. I don’t like when it’s, um, frenzied.”
He speaks like it’s a challenge to explain himself, even when his head’s floating with whiskey.
“You seem pretty in control,” you murmur, still working on unbuttoning his shirt. You take it slow, watching for discomfort. “Better than me, anyway.”
He chuckles breathily, a disbelieving laugh. “That’s generous.”
You hum, pressing a kiss to the revealed parts of Loki’s neck. You were starting to lose your patience, despite yourself.
“Tell me to stop,” you breathe against him. He shudders.
“I don’t want to.” His hold on your waist tightens. “I want to… feel it. Feel you.” He takes a deep breath, eyes skirting away, embarrassed. “Just without losing my footing.”
A slow, deliberate smile spreads across your face. “Okay,” you say. “We can do that.”
You can see the weight sighing off his shoulders, the relief in the way he blinks lightly.
“Yeah?” He breathes, drunk honesty making him need to hear it twice, that anchoring agreement.
You just slip your fingers into his hand, guiding. He startles almost imperceptibly at the contact, eyes flicking down to where you’re holding him.
“This way,” you say.
Understanding dawns on Loki’s face, and you hear him sigh through his nose. “Okay.”
You lead him down a short hallway, dimly lit. He follows half a step behind you, work-worn hand still in yours, and you can feel him grounding himself through the contact. The apartment feels warmer back here, softer somehow. The hum of the city fades.
When you reach the bedroom, you don’t turn on the overhead light. Just the lamp by the bed, waxy and warm like bleeding sunlight.
You stop just inside the doorway.
Loki lingers there, taking it in. The bed. The quiet. You.
“This is usually where things get…” He trails off.
“Fast?” you offer.
He nods. “Yeah.”
You step closer, still not crowding him. “Then we won’t do that.”
Something in his expression eases at that. His shoulders relax out of their rigid hold. “Thank you,” he says, low and earnest enough to make your chest ache.
You guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. He perches on your duvet, hands resting on his thighs like he’s not sure what to do with them yet.
It’s almost endearing to see such a big, stoic man almost nervous.
You stand between his knees, resisting the urge to touch him just yet.
“Still slow?” you ask.
He looks up at you, eyes warm and a little glassy. “Still slow.”
You lean in, honey-drip slow, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. The closeness alone makes his breath hitch, but then he melts.
Loki’s hand slides from your waist, fingers lingering before he lets go. He shifts on the edge of the bed, shoulders rolling once, drawing a quiet breath as he pulls away.
“Okay,” he murmurs. More to himself than you.
His fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, clumsy at first. He frowns faintly at them, the effort of concentration written plainly across his face. One button comes undone. Then another. He pauses, glancing up at you, checking.
You don’t rush him.
That seems to help.
He exhales, shoulders loosening, and continues. He moves with slow, careful movements, like he’s aware of every inch of himself right now.
When the shirt finally parts, he shrugs it off with a small, self-conscious breath, like he’s surprised he made it that far.
The tank top underneath sticks a little as he lifts it, catching at his ribs. He tugs it down again, embarrassed, not used to being watched like this. He tries again, slower this time. It comes free. He drops it beside him on the bed, ears faintly pink.
“There,” he says, quiet. Almost shy.
He looks at you then, really looks—eyes warm, searching, still a little unsure.
“Still okay?” he asks, voice low, steady despite the nerves humming under it.
“More than that,” you hum, easing your hands down his chest, laying him down.
You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, feeling his want mount in the growing bulge between his legs.
You slide your hands down his chest again, deliberately slow, eliciting a breathy haah that sounds like it’s been trapped in Loki’s lungs for a while.
He appears almost starstruck, looking up at you. Something about the red in his ears tells you that if he were sober, he’d be cold, distant stone.
But neither of you are sober.
He lifts up, kissing you again. Harder this time. His choice. His hands find their way back to your waist, like he likes it there.
You can feel the callouses seared into his palms as they slide under your shirt. They run back and forth over the soft, bare skin of your sides.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hands passing over your chest. Reverent. Feeling you. “You’re… shit.”
“Hmm?” you kiss the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw, then his shoulder. Your hands slide down to his slacks, feeling the tent there. Its big—you can already tell.
Your hand thumbs at his belt. “Can I?”
You hear him stifle a needy noise that bubbles up from his throat—almost a groan. It makes you grin.
“Mmm—yeah. Mhm.”
You slide his belt off after fumbling for a moment, your open mouth searing wet, blooming bruises along Loki’s throat. Your hand slips easily down the front of his pants, palming his heavy, flushed length through his boxers.
“D’you want me to use my mouth?” you ask.
Loki shakes his head no, his eyes glassy with a restrained desperation you hadn’t seen yet.
“I just—can I—I just want to be inside you. I don’t—I’m not used to… shit like that.”
You make a mental note to show him what he’s missing later on. But you don’t want to push him too hard, not yet.
“Yeah. ‘Course you can,” you murmur.
You catch Loki’s mouth in a deep kiss, feeling his blood rush into the scent of you.
His hands grab and feel and worship every inch he can reach, far past thinking and deep into wanting.
.
.
.
“Oh, fuck,” Loki pants, one arm braced above you, the other holding your waist hard enough to bruise. Sweat beads on his forehead, his slick-backed hair falling messy over his face.
You’re mewling below him, breathy moans punching out of your chest with every thrust, dizzy with how deep he is.
You knew he was gonna be big.
But jesus, not this big.
You didn’t expect him to know how to use it, either.
“Shiitt—David, fuck!” You moan, hooking your arms around his neck.
“Do you need me to slow dow—aahn…” Loki groans, his head dipping into the line of your shoulder. The muscles in his torso ripple with every delicious, stirring movement of his hips.
You can feel every vein of his impossibly fat dick stretching you out, the space where the two of you meet all creamy and perfect.
“Don’t—mmmph—don’t you dare,” you gasp.
He nods breathlessly, his lips swollen from how hard he’s biting them to keep from groaning too loud.
The cord in his chest—the one he keeps coiled tight—starts to unravel faster than he can rein it in.
His hips snap up more and more erratically, small groans of pleasure escaping his lips as he holds onto your hips for dear life. “Jesus—fuck…!”
You rake your nails down his back, digging them into his skin and making him shudder hard.
You can feel his cock throbbing hard, his veins throbbing like it hurts so good. His hand on your waist moves to swipe sweat-slick baby hairs from your forehead, glassy eyes flicking between yours.
Without thinking, your hands come up to cup his face above yours. Your thumbs brush over his stubble, a breathless, too-tender gesture that makes you both seize.
“Oh, ah-haahh.. mmph..” You whimper, pulling Loki down so that your foreheads touch.
You watch as his eyes roll back into his head, his long eyelashes fluttering. The muscles in his shoulders tense as he gets close, his hips faltering and losing their rhythm.
“I’m gonna—fuck…!” Loki gasps, pulling out right as he cums. He spurts all over your inner thighs, his breath shuddery and panting.
He collapses next to you, blinking hard and breathing harder.
You share that blissful, unthinking moment where the adrenaline and breathless air crescendo into this.
“Fuckin’ A…”Loki sighs after a long beat.
“Mmm?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head.
You watch him sit up slow, with a carefulness that suggested too much movement would shatter something.
His breathing evens out, deliberate. Controlled again. Too controlled.
You notice the warmth drain from his eyes. They’re distant now, that open glassiness having shuttered back into the cave of his mind. Locked behind something practiced, careful, safe.
He must have sobered up.
“Are you—” you start to say.
“—I have to go.” He says it quick, avoidant, but not unkind. Like he’s stepped too far and cant backpedal fast enough.
He gets up, before you can answer. He shoves his slacks back on, buttoning his shirt to the top quicker than he could get it off. Precise, button after button.
Familiar armor sliding into place. He won’t look you in the eye.
“You just—what the fuck?” you blink, pulling your shirt back over your head. You’re still sticky with sweat and cum.
“Hey,” you try again, softer now. “David.”
He stills.
For a moment, you think he won’t turn around. Then he does — and there’s something naked in his expression that has nothing to do with his clothes.
“There’s a case—I have to… Someone..”
He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. A shake of his head, like he’s frustrated with his own lack of honesty.
“Sorry. ‘M sorry.”
It isn’t a plea for forgiveness.
It beckons distance, pushes you away.
You follow him to your door anyway.
You stumble after him, trying to find the words to interrogate him, cuss at him, anything.
“Hey. What the hell?” You say, but it’s more of a plea. A sad one.
He pauses there, hand on the handle, like he’s bracing himself.
Then he turns back and cups the back of your head, forehead pressing briefly to yours.
His eyes are filled with something that makes your heart clench.
The kiss he leaves on your forehead is fierce and restrained all at once. Like it costs him something.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. The weight of it lands heavier than anything else he’s said all night.
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⋆☀︎｡ u and pilot get high and dryhump yay!!!! smut, dryhumping, fwb, pilots a puppy, not actually, gender neutral reader, plot what plot/porn without plot, a wee bit short sorry!! , highway 2002
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚𓇼𓂃 ོ⋆𖤓𓂃 masterlist playlist
makeout sessions with pilot were your favorite.
they always started the same way.
pilot brought the blunt to your lips, eyes locked on you, fascinated. he watched you inhale with those big blue eyes that never learned to lie. they sparkled like you were the patron saint of sunlight.
never subtle. not even pretending to be.
“jesus, what?” you giggled, tilting your head, blowing the smoke out of the corner of your mouth.
it was always too hot in his room. the fan did nothing but stir the air around.
“pop quiz,” pilot murmured, his voice slow as his thumb dragged along your jaw. he was always touching you in little ways.
“mmh, pi—”
“pop. quiz.” you watched that dumb, sedated puppydog grin spread across his face.
you just rolled your eyes, your knee knocking against his. “go.”
“what’s the prettiest thing in this whoooole busted apartment?”
you exhaled slowly, stealing another hit, listening to the box fan rattle. “‘s it that noisy ass fan?”
“wrong. errrrr." that awful buzzer noise. "perfect score anyway. beep." pilot smiled, softer now. the corners of his mouth kicked up all cute. “it's you.”
then, he leaned in, kissing the space between your eyebrows with all the tenderness he never showed anyone else.
“gold star.”
the rare lack of irony in his voice made your heart stutter.
the awestruck look on his face didn't help.
pilot had the worst poker face in existence—always did, always would. he stared at you like that when you were hunched over a bowl of cereal, glass cradled in your palms. when you were counting change at the cash register, half asleep. all the time. like you were the 8th wonder of the world, and he'd just discovered you.
half the time, he didn’t even realize he was staring.
you shoved his shoulder. “you're higher than a kite.”
“higher than a pilot, you think?" he laughed, hyena-like, before relaxing back against the wall. “high on your trick ass. 'n… some other stuff. but mostly you. who needs disneyland when i got you?”
"shut up, pi," you murmured, not unkindly.
he always got embarrassed when you told him the things he prattled on about when you were high.
you took the joint, nudging it back to the edge of pilot’s mouth.
giving each other hits was sort of a tradition the two of you had. you didn’t know why. you didn’t even remember when you started.
it just felt right. warm, like soothed dogs. warm like his hands. warm like him.
the room grew thick as you drifted higher. the air was heavy with smoke and marijuana, hot as hell. sweat gathered at the base of your spine, and you wished you could peel your clothes off and bake in it.
when you looked down, you found pilot's hand splayed on your thigh. you didn’t know exactly when it got there. his thumb was drawing lazy circles like he needed contact or his head would float right off his shoulders.
“eyes up here,” you teased.
“i am,” he said, not moving his hand. “multitasking.”
you pressed your forehead to his, forcing his glassy gaze to settle back on yours. “you're dumb."
“certified,” he hummed, eyes going heavy-lidded. “got the diploma and ev’rything.”
you sat like that for a while, looking dopey into each other’s eyes, slowly getting closer, breathing with open mouths.
he smelled like chlorine and root beer dum-dums.
you suddenly squinted one eye shut, draping your arms over his shoulders. you were so close to him your vision started to unfocus—making his eyes sort of merge.
“cyclops.”
“hot,” he deadpanned, but his breath hitched anyway. like it just dawned on him how close you were.
“hey.”
“mmm?”
“you’re pretty, too.”
that stopped his brain for a second. fried all his circuits.
full system reboot.
you watched his mouth open, close, open again.
his fingers tightened on your thigh, and if you didn’t have jeans on, you would have felt the clamminess in his palms.
pilot shuddered, swallowing hard.
"oh," he breathed, eyes glittering like he was about to confess something life ruining.
before he could say anything, you kissed him. only once, testing the waters. it was barely even a peck.
but fuck. the sound that came out of him was half-choked, a wrecked little whine that he tried and failed to swallow down.
the fan clicked, rattled, stuttered.
sweat slid down your spine, the air thick enough to drink.
pilot laughed under his breath, more a little nervous. “god, ‘s hot.”
“it’s always hot in here.”
“not… what i meant.”
“mmh—can i?”
“touch me?”
pilot just nodded. you tried not to laugh at how red he was.
“i’m right here. go ‘head.”
that was all he needed.
his hands scrambled, grabbing at your hips, your neck, your jaw. trying to touch everything at once, like he couldn't decide what he needed most.
you leaned in to kiss him again, and he jumped for it. he was inexperienced—his lips fumbling and unsure as he kissed you.
"you," he breathed against your mouth, voice shaking. "you're, ah—"
he leaned back , crushing the blunt out too hard, ash scattering out of the tray in his messy windowsill.
smoke curled up around you in spirals, clinging to the warm summer air and the scant space between your mouths.
"i—" he tried to say something. anything. but his mouth wasn't working right—it was too busy pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting salt and heat and you.
his fingers dug into the bare skin of your hip, right above the waistband of your boxers, and he let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
“shit,” he panted against your skin, eyes hazy. “you're tryin' to kill me."
"am i?" you asked, climbing into pilot’s lap.
“yeah,” he groaned, his voice pitching up when your weight settled between his legs. “this’s a baaad idea.”
“you always say that.”
“‘cause it is.” his fingers drummed restless beats against your splayed thighs. “you make me all... stupid.”
you just grinned against his mouth. “you already are.”
he laughed, then pulled you closer, like he could fold you into him if he tried hard enough. like he could keep you there with him.
“nnh, ah, lean back.”
his hand cupped the small of your back, attentive as always, guiding you down to the mattress.
your eyes opened again to see pilot hovering over you, flushed and breathless, looking at you like he’d just been handed something sacred and fragile. beautiful.
“pilot,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his untamed hair, pulling him back down to you, his lips and tongue slotting back to yours.
he kissed and licked and nipped sloppy marks into your neck, trailing purple tulips and blooming pink flowers down to your collarbone.
his hands slid up under the hem of your shirt, warm palms flat against your chest. “fuck. can i?”
you just nodded helplessly, lifting your arms up.
he got you both undressed in a blur, pulling off your jeans and his, leaving you both in only your boxers; baggy flannel.
“nnh, are those mine?” pilot grinned, licking your bottom lip. his fingers snapped at the waistband before leaving it be.
“don’t worry ‘bout it,” you mumbled back. who’s clothes were whose always got mixed up between you. either way, pilot’s looked better on you. he always thought so.
"zow-ee," pilot said under his breath.
you pitched your knee up, pressing it against the bulge in pilot’s boxers.
you watched him keen, his eyes fluttering like cicada wingbeats. his hips bucked once, and you could see him fighting to not grind against you.
“oh, fuck—” pilot gasped. “thats, mmm..”
“good?” you asked, grinding your knee against his clothed cock.
you watched pilot’s eyes roll back into his head, his long eyelashes fluttering. “god damn it, ah..!”
it was taking all of his willpower not to just hump your leg, his virgin brain practically frying itself. sweat started to drip down his neck, into the dip of his clavicle.
“you’re so hard,” you mused, carding your fingers through his messy hair, watching him try desperately to focus.
“can’t—can’t help it,” pilot panted. “not with you.”
his eyes were glossy, his face so red you couldnt tell if it was you or the vegas sunburn.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. this one was sloppy, frantic with need. pilot’s tongue licked into your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as he cupped your face. he was inexperienced, sure, but oh so eager.
he pressed messy kisses down your jaw, nipping at the edge like a puppy before sucking hard on your neck.
“you’re so fucking pretty,” he groaned against your throat, leaving sloppy, fevered bites like he couldn’t get enough.
“shit, pilot… c’mere,” you moaned, voice pitching at his name.
pilot shifted, moving so that his dick was pressed between your legs rather than grinding against your thigh.
his hips rolled against yours, stealing a whimper from the both of you.
“i’m so fucked,” you heard him breathe to himself.
sparks of pleasure shot up your spine as the two of you found a rhythm, your hips circling and rolling. his cock throbbed hard against you, leaking into a wet patch at the center of his boxers from the overwhelming friction.
you didn’t expect it to feel this good—just grinding against pilot’s cock through the fabric of your boxers.
pilot must not have either—the look on his face was pure ecstasy. his eyes were hazy, his brows pitched together and it almost looked like he could cry.
“mmh—mm…” you gasped.
pilot choked out a pained groan into the crook of your neck, his hands gripping hard onto your hips. “yeah, ah, like that. jus’ like that..”
he started to move your hips for you, helping tilt your hips up and down, rolling against his in just the right way.
“fuck, pi,” you moaned, feeling his cock throb against you.
“we keep this up, ‘m gonna..” he choked out, his hips bucking up to meet yours.
the tent in his boxers was so damp, and you could see the sweat dripping down into his happy trail. “fuck.”
“oh yeah?” you licked up his neck, pressing a kiss just under his ear. you felt him stiffen, his control loosening fast.
pilot grabbed back onto your hips, grinding down against you harder, faster. he lost the rhythm the two of you had built up, just panting and groaning out little desperate whimpers as he rolled your hips up against him.
he struggled to hold himself up above you, his whole body practically humming like a live wire.
“i’m gonna—fuck—can i?” he panted, his cock leaking pre-cum, making a wet, sticky mess between your boxers. “please. please?”
“yeah,” you said against the shell of his ear. “yeah.”
pilot gripped your thighs hard, his mouth falling open. his eyebrows pinched together tight as if it hurt. the pleasure was almost too much, threatening to swallow him whole.
he bucked against you, deep, his hips stuttering as his whole body locked up. you watched his pretty eyes flutter and roll back into his head as he came, his face twisted in pained bliss.
“oh, fuck..! mhh—shit, mm.. mm..” he whimpered, his head dipping as he rode out his orgasm.
eventually he flopped down next to you, a panting, sticky mess. he grabbed a pillow, shoving it over his face and yelling something unintelligible.
“pfftt.. there he is,” you murmured, pulling the pillow away from him, throwing it behind you.
you grinned down at him, watching his bliss-hazy eyes slowly come back into focus.
“that was awesome,” he breathed out.
“yeah?”
“mhm..” he smiled, bunny teeth flashing. “nice that i’m not broken after all. y’know, the whole sexual confusion trip..”
“i’m just magic,” you teased. “come on—you gotta get your ass in the shower..”
pilot grimaced at the mess of his boxers, nodding at you. he scrambled up, kissing the side of your head sheepishly before standing.
“‘kay.”
he nearly finished walking out of his bedroom, before turning right back around.
“let me roll another joint first.”
you couldn’t help but smile.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
A.N i hope this was in character..!!!! im sorry this took me so long, smut is really draining for me to write for whatever reason lol. i dont feel great about this fic but if i don’t post it now i never will -_-. writing fanfics on here has become really draining for me, and i havent been proud of something ive written in a long time. i have a very skewed view of the things i write, so it’s hard for me to be confident in wat i share with u guys, and a lot of work goes into the characterization i try to achieve in my fics. im going to try to write more indulgently in the future, and i hope thats ok with u guys!!!
all of the nice comments really do push me to keep going, i love you all very much. i hope this doesn’t seem compliment-fishy, i just wanted to be transparent with my process + why this took me forever and a day. i love u ! ☮️
he always plays your favorite songs on diner jukeboxes, even if you aren’t there
tells you the dumbest pickup lines
“if you were a fruit you’d be a fineapple 😎”
he wants to match everything with you. keychains, bracelets, outfits… he practically buys everything in pairs
lays his head in your lap or on your shoulder whenever he can
^ he knows youll scratch his head when he does… its all part of his plot
LOVES to sneak up on you and hug u from behind
he looveeessss a good makeout sesh. sometimes he’ll get all giddy when youre doing it and giggles in & between kisses.
^ when you first start dating, he sucks at kissing. like terrible. but he gets better and learns the things you like
so impossibly touchy
has insane mommy issues . do with that what you will
tripsits you. once you greened out and he took the best care of you, fed u, made u drink water, reassured u…. all the things
you have to remind him to take his iron pills for anemia
^ u can always tell when he hasnt.. he gets all clumsy
he pierced your eyebrow to match his, took good care of it for you
(can u tell he loves doing things for you?)
he likes blowing dandelion fuzz in your face
he LOVES when u wear his clothes. his like orange/tan jacket that he flips inside out is his go-to when ur cold. also just seeing u swagged out in his clothes makes him geek
loves to take you rollerskating, bowling, to arcades….
he holds your hand in the weirdest ways. sometimes he’ll just hold onto your pinkie while you’re walking, other times he’ll cradle one of your hands in both of his
gets all teary eyed when he has to say bye
he loves hearing you breathe when you’re sleeping, its personal and intimate in a way he can’t explain
shares all his food with you
he makes little raps about how much he loves you. he’ll be like “gimme a beat” and start rhyming like hes dr seuss
“this reminded me of yooouuuu”
if theres two of ANYTHING he has to say “thats us”
you can’t watch movies together bc he falls asleep EVERY TIME (he always says he won’t this time)
has a little camcorder that he uses to take videos/pictures of u and ur adventures
he likes putting stickers all over your face
he always asks you to push him on swings 😭
at parties and raves he ALWAYS manages to find his way to the dj and requests your favorite song
he does that thing toddlers do when they’re like “WATCH THIS” and jump off the couch
if you guys go out to eat he always fakes a proposal or says it’s your birthday to get free food
draws ugly little monster guys on u
sometimes he’ll come back from hanging out with jack literally smelling like a dog. gross but u get to shampoo his hair and clean the dirt from under his nails and get his blackheads and when ur done he looks like a princess
^insists on wearing the spa headband thingies
makes you have lightsaber battles with him in toy aisles
calls you the dumbest nicknames. if you’re being quiet he calls you “talksy” and dumb stuff like dat
burns you so many cds i know i hc this for wveryone but its CANON
