Prompt: Kyle and Stan have a homework assignment they’d rather not do, so they decide to do something else instead. Namely kiss.
based on one of @foxydodo ‘s headcanons from months ago:
“Asks each other "Who would you rather kiss in our class?” type of questions which leads to “You ever thought of kissing another guy?” and ultimately becomes “Yeah. We could try it. Just between the two of us, nobody needs to know. It’s just an experiment.” Then they kiss and realise they like it more than they’re supposed to.“
there is something very strange in this world. men get praised a lot for doing things that maybe should have been expected from them. how many headlines have i seen that read something like “man actually does housework”. how many buzzfeed articles about “this actor actually says he loves his wife and we’re crying about how beautiful that is”. how many heart-eyed emoji-filled retweets because “man shows basic human decency.”
my mom is not a chef, even though every person she has ever served food to is shocked by how good it is. she does not even consider herself a cook. that is a man’s thing. my father reminds me it is just as hard to be a man, because every vulnerability is taken as a chance to attack. at a wedding, a man looks at his soon-to-be wife and actually smiles. it is lauded as the most magical moment in a year or so.
i scroll past the information about a man who stayed by his wife “despite her losing her breasts to cancer”. the woman - or “the wife” - is absent from her own struggle. i sit through a meet-and-greet where the speaker says “the men here today” before adding a hasty “and wives”, where it is noted how many hours men toiled at work and at home. they are praised for their double-shift of a day while the women (the wives, the wives, the wives) look glassily at their husbands. i go to school and i learn more about what men did in history. on the tv, i watch a man meet a talk show host because he learned to braid his daughter’s hair. at my dismissal, i am reminded he didn’t have to do that. i am reminded men don’t have to do that.
i am reminded by yet another white shooter that life is hard for men, you know. i know it is. i know that, for men, domestic violence and sexual assault go unreported and unsolved. that suicidal thoughts go unhelped. that toxic masculinity encourages a social divide between men that leaves many feeling alienated and unable to seek help. i know this because i try to keep an open heart. it is interesting because i know this and yet when i ask a man about what a woman goes through, i am told: it is hard to be a man, you know.
a man quits his job to be with his kids. a man speaks out about feminism. a man cooks dinner for his family. a man stands up to give his seat to someone with bags. a man doesn’t have to, you know. he doesn’t have to.
the wedding is cute. i’m not jaded and i love watching others be happy. my friend crosses her legs and sighs, showing me a headline. a man waited six months for his overseas-deployed wife. my friend and i cry at the video of their reunion.
“i want a love like that,” we say, and the sad thing is: we’re still looking.
- Don’t challenge him to any video game. He will. Destroy. You. Does not matter if you’re his best friend. You’re going down, and he’ll smile the entire time.
- Animals?? Love him?? Koda low-key gets excited.
- Pretty good artist. He doesn’t do it a lot, but it’s one thing him and Bakouga have in common. Not that either know. (Thats a lie. Katsuki has seen him draw, but doesn’t comment. He’s a little impressed tbh.)
- As they get older, and he gets more stable with his quirk he just. Picks people up. Randomly. Todoroki in his way? Dat boi in the air and set down before he can blink. Iida ranting too early in the morning? Tossed over the shoulder and thrown on the couch with a very drawn out “shhhhhh”. Shoji cries the first time Izuku does it to him cuz he thought nobody could pick him up anymore. Piggy back rides are a regular thing by third year. Even Momo gets in on it. (They’re all low-key attracted by it, but no one saying shit.)
- Good artist. doodles mostly and doesn’t talk about it.
- very big dog person. Cats are okay- he’d own one, yeah, but dogs are where its at. When he gets one later in life, people are shook by how well trained and affectionate the pupper is.
- Tone deaf. No one takes him to karaoke after the incident.
- He likes?? Kids?? No one was expecting this when they went on a field trip to the elementary school. Kirishima kinda thinks its cuz he regrets what he did to Izuku, and is sorta trying to make up for it.
- When no one is around, he listens to really soft music.
- By third year he is known as The Prankster. He’s gotten too comfortable. Everyone fears the 1st of April. Even Bakouga locks himself in his dorm. (The only ones safe are Izuku and Momo- but they help him in secret.)
- The sass master by second year. “Did you run all the way here?” “No, just briskly walking throws me into cardiac arrest.”
- Really likes small animals. Hamsters? Heck ye. Chinchilla? STOP HIS HEART WILL BURST. (But hes also scared he’ll accidentally hurt them. Sweet boi.)
- Ride or die friend. Will drive at two in the morning to wherever they hell u managed to land yourself at. Probably would help you hide a body too.
- This boy can’t figure out video games to save his life. Prefers chess and crosswords. (But will try to play for Izuku.)
- Surprisingly, he’s that one person always taking pictures. His phone is loaded with selfies of him and and his friends. The only physical evidence that he smiles. He carries a selfie stick around and no one lets him forget it (but he doesn’t understand why its so funny?? he likes taking selfies with his friends. :( )
- Unhealthy obsession with flower crowns. He has like 10 at his dorm that he wears around when they aren’t training. (He made them himself.)
- Rly good at comforting. best hugs. Well, after Shoji. Good listener. 11/10 would have as best friend.
- Really likes fictional books. Especially action filled ones. Bakugou was v surprised when he was laying on his friend’s floor and looked under the bed to find. like. fifty books. They all have rlly colorful covers and outrageous plots, but Kiri will defend them to the ends of the earth.
- fav pass time is to just.. walk. Where is he? probs just walking around the school grounds. Has accidentally stayed out after curfew. Got an earful from Aizawa.
- Makes some bomb ass tea. However, he prefers coffee or cocoa. Midnight regularly makes him brew the staff tea tho.
- Regularly daydreams about being a cat
- His apartment has one (1) picture hanging on the wall. Its of his cat. Mic gave it to him one year as a joke. The blond still cries a little whenever he sees it.
- he writes down and saves weird things his students say. He has enough material to make roughly 3 books filled with quotes. He’s planning to publish them when he retires.
- Regularly gets attacked by birds. No. Really. It’s an actual problem. Birds are assholes.
- Both of his parents have regular human heads. His birth was very odd. And his dad couldn’t exactly accuse his mom of cheating, ya know? That would just raise so many strange questions.
- He’s not much of an animal person. The irony is not lost to him.
- Prefers hand-held games. He also joins Todo for chess usually. They are pretty evenly matched.
here, have some pining!lance headcanons because i’m w EAK:
when lance realizes that he has a big gay crush on keith, of course he’s in denial about it at first
because really??? out of every living being in the universe, he just had to end up crushing on his once rival, number one impulsive hothead, the mullet man???
like, why on earth would lance be attracted tokeith???
with his dumb cropped jacket, his impulsive hotheadedness, his badass fighting skills, his cute smile, his soft, stupid looking mullet…
okay yeah, so maybe lance has a crush on keith. but how was he supposed to know that he’d end up liking keith of all people???
but once lance accepts his feelings for him, it’s like he’s suddenly hyper aware of everything that keith does, to the point where lance can’t help but be clumsy around him
like, he walks into walls, awkwardly stutters, and trips over air kind of clumsy
obviously keith is very confused because??? lance is usually pretty graceful and always knows what to say, so it’s pretty odd seeing him all over the place
it’s a new thing for lance too, because he’s supposed to be suave and cool around his crushes, not dorky, awkward, and clumsy
(but unbeknownst to lance, keith thinks it’s pretty endearing)
when lance thinks about or hears keith’s dorky laugh, he gets this dopey, love struck smile on his face because wow, his laugh sure is beautiful
the way his head tilts back, with a huge, wild smile on his face- it’s it’s almost like keith radiants happiness when he laughs
and, not to be dramatic, but lance would love a soundtrack of just keith’s laughter so he could listen to it on repeat on the bad days
(it makes lance feel like he can take on the entire galra empire on his own when he’s the one to make keith laugh)
every time a battle is over, and keith tells him “good job sharpshooter” with that dumb (hot) cocky smirk on his face, lance feels those silly, cliché butterflies in his stomach
and while lance hates the violence that’s involved with defending the universe, watching keith fight takes his breath away, because he fights like he has nothing to lose
(lance only wishes he could be that strong)
but every time keith fights by his side, he’s never felt safer, because he knows that keith’s got his back, and in return, lance has got his
sometimes, out of curiosity, lance just wants to risk it all and see what would happen if he’d go plant one right on keith’s mouth
like, what would keith do???
would he gasp??? be still??? push him away??? kiss him back???
but the reality is this: lance would never be able to do it
not only would it be rude to kiss him without permission, but lance is way too afraid of rejection to ruin their friendship over his feelings
(but the truth is: keith will be the one to plant one on him first. he couldn’t help it after watching his boyfriend look out at the stars with sad, lonely eyes)
on the bad days, lance can’t help but sit back and wonder about how his family would react to keith if he introduced him as his boyfriend
his mother would take one look at keith, take him into her arms and tell him “welcome home” and his father would smile warmly and thank keith for helping watch out for of his youngest while he was away
his older brothers would tease him and wonder how he got such a good looking dude, trapping lance in their arms as they give him a noogies, telling him that they’re happy for him
his sisters would take one look at keith’s hair and wonder how the hell he could make such an out of date hairstyle look so good, and then proceed to interrogate him until they knew every itty bitty detail about lance and keith’s relationship
his nieces and nephews would probably think that keith is way cooler than him, simply because he’s a badass ninja warrior
(and lance could be jealous…. but keith is a pretty cool guy)
and while all these might just be speculations, there is one thing that lance knows for sure: they would treat keith as one of their own, as soon as they’d notice how good of a person keith was
and at how absolutely smitten lance is with him
the day lance realizes that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he thought, it’s a pretty normal day
the team is together eating some delicious meal that hunk made, after getting some ingredients from the last planet they helped free
everyone is chatting and having a good time and while he’s laughing at a joke that hunk made, he can just sense thathe’s being stared at, and so he decides to see who wants his attention and-
it’s keith. keith is the one staring at him. he has this soft, fond smile on his lips and the emotion in his eyes are just so kind and warm and lance just… looks back at him, his heart pounding and palms sweating
because maybe… just maybe his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he thought they were
(and if lance ends up blushing up a storm when keith reaches for lance’s hand under the table and laces their fingers together? well, it was nobody’s business but his own)
Do you remember a night when I came along the dark passage to your room in a thunderstorm and we lay talking about whether we were afraid of death or not? That is the sort of occasion on which the things I want to say to you,–and to you only,–get said.
Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West written c. June 1933
How do I tell him?
How do I tell him that falling in love with him has made me the most fragile I’ve ever been?
Should I say his past haunts me and that he can break me with just a word?
How do I tell him that the past girls he’s fallen in love with look nothing like me and its terrifying?
How do I tell him that I’m insecure? That it takes everything within me to let things go, and that I’m trying to not scare him away?
How can I stop comparing myself to the way he treated the others? Do I admit that I need the validation?
Do I admit that his list of female friends intimidates me and that I need reminders hes happy with his choice? That He didn’t settle?
How can I protect my heart ?
How do I ensure that This. Is. Real.
That being fragile is okay, for it means I trust his rough hands enough not to break me.
That his past has shaped his heart into the only one I want to listen to beat in bed.
That though ive seen the power behind his words, with me theyve only whispered sweet poems.
And perhaps he hasnt experienced morning curls such as mine I know he’ll find a way to love their shape.
That it’s good that I’m different, cause though I may not have long blonde hair like the girl of his dreams, or a perfect body like the girl that broke his heart. And though I may not be as sexy as the girls he follows on social media he’s found something in me that made him stay.
That he can’t possibly know that I’m insecure and broken if I don’t speak up and there’s no shame in wanting to be shown off. That I must find comfort in knowing that he’s trying.
And above all It’s completely okay to want to protect my heart but it’s not okay to build walls.
This is REAL love
That real love IS vulnerability, it’s knowing that love is a choice. He chose me and has continued to choose me. What makes this love real is that I have no safety nets that a risk does exist.
How do I tell him?
How do I tell him that I’ve always liked the nights sky but fell in love with it when we first kissed.
That just as it’s impossible to know the birth place of the stars how unlikely it is we were brought together by chance?
How do I tell him that I thank those stars every night they were there at that party.
That I’m grateful he was so persistent.
How do I tell him I’ve never been this uncertain yet so sure of something in my life. That I love him.
How do I show him I love him?
tiny curses for people who don’t deserve big ones live on the back of my tongue. i hope your popcorn always burns. that your fly never stays up. that your hair always gets caught whenever you wear buttons.
my mother taught me that when you point a finger at someone you should be ready for it to come back full force upon you. that you should never curse seriously in case they carry a mirror to reflect it back on you.
but if my popcorn always burns because i cursed her for the white words she spoke, i’m comfortable with black kernels. if i’m disheveled because of him and how he flunked her despite her doctor’s note - i don’t wear pants enough to notice. my hair can get caught; i’m growing it long. if that’s what it takes for bad people to get their justice.
Peter can’t keep his eyes, his thoughts, or his hands off of you.
Warnings: Making out (?), Swearing
Notes: REQUESTED ~ @beverleemash: “can I get uhhhh,,,, touch starved peter parker pls”.
The glow from the television washed over your features, illuminating the planes of your face with a soft light. Peter couldn’t help but cast glances your way. He took in the way the light caught in your eyelashes, how it shimmered in your eyes. His eyes followed the glow, soaking in how the light slid down the curve of your nose and bloomed over the apples of your cheeks. But most of all, he loved how it shone on your lips; his eyes were glued to them, drinking in every movement they made. God, he couldn’t get enough of you.
After months of Ned’s urging, Peter finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date while May was out of town. So, here he was, sitting on his living room couch with the girl of his dreams while Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker battled it out on the television screen. It wasn’t much—just a Star Wars marathon movie night with a few of your favorite snacks and sodas, but damn it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t internally freaking out.
You were so close to him. He could smell your body wash off of you. Peter had been dreaming about this for months—the two of you alone, centimeters apart. More often than not, Peter found his thoughts drifting away from his homework and to how soft your lips might feel moving against his, how perfectly your hips would fit in his hands as he held you against him, how he would be able to smell your body wash off your skin as his lips roamed down your neck. But May’s voice, calling somewhere from down the hall to remind him to get back to work, would always interrupt his daydreams.
All it would take was a shift of the couch cushion, a slight lean to your left, and the two of you would be touching. He wanted to hold you, to touch you…so badly…but he couldn’t. He was scared. What if he made the wrong move? What if he did something and scared you off? Every so often, your shoulders bumped, or your thighs brushed against his when you shifted your weight to get more comfortable. And God, it drove him mad. He’d dreamt about you for so long, and you were right there…so, so close to him….he could almost touch you…
Your heart was running laps in your chest. Peter was so close to you. You could feel his body heat, smell his cologne and body wash rolling off of him. Sure, you kept your eyes on the TV screen, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You wanted nothing more than to lean into his chest and savor the warmth, the scents, the touch that were so uniquely his. You glanced his way, and your eyes met.
Shit, Peter swore silently as he looked away. You definitely caught him staring. He felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. What should he say now? Should he apologize for staring? Should he—
Peter froze. His thoughts went haywire as his mind registered what was happening. You had leaned into him, your shoulder blade pressing lightly against his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. The smell of your shampoo wafted up his nose. The warmth from your body slowly washing over him. Peter stiffened. Unsure of what to do, he slowly and awkwardly wrapped his arm around your shoulders, the pads of his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your arm.
“Relax, Peter,” you laughed softly as you noticed how tense he was, resting your hand on his thigh. Peter felt his heart rate shoot up, and the room seemed to grow ten degrees hotter. God, the things you did to him. He let out a barely audible, shaky breath and loosened up, letting his hand move down your arm and onto your waist. And he thought it was hard to focus on the movie earlier…
All he could register now was your weight against his side, the smell of your shampoo, your hand on his thigh, and the way your lips shone with the television light…and he wanted more. He wanted to hold your face in his hands, to close the distance between your lips, to feel you skin to skin.
You snuggled closer to him, and when you lifted your head to look at him, Peter felt his stomach do somersaults.
“Thanks for having me over tonight,” you whispered into his ear gently. Your warm breath rolled over the skin of his neck, your lips brushing his ear ever so slightly. Heat rose to his face, and Peter felt breathless.
“Y-Yeah, um, no problem,” he said shakily. He held your gaze, brown eyes darkening. The air felt heavy, and he could hear his heart beating loud and fast. His eyes wandered down to your lips. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. They looked so soft and full. He just had to lean a little closer.
“Peter…?” you breathed in a soft, questioning whisper. The way his name sounded rolling off your tongue. He wanted you so, so badly.
“Is everything okay?” you asked, hand coming up to caress his jaw. He relished in your touch, how soft the palm of your hand felt, and he couldn’t help but think about how it might feel gliding up his neck and into his hair as you kissed him.
He felt you moving closer and closer with every word that left his mouth, your hand still cupping his jaw.
“Good,” you sighed happily, kissing Peter just below his ear, where his neck met his jaw. Peter’s heart felt like it would leap out of his chest.
You held his gaze, hand still pressing against his jawline, and you could feel how hot his skin was. His eyes were dark, and you could hear his heavy breathing. His tongue quickly swiped over his lips, wetting them, and you bit the inside of your cheek.
“Can I…um…can I kiss you?” he asked shyly, eyes never leaving yours.
“Yeah…” you breathed, and Peter leaned down to close the little space between the two of you. Your lips moved against his smoothly and slowly, and Peter felt lightheaded, the only thing grounding him was the feeling of your lips and the heavy pounding of his heart.
Both his hands had found their way to your hips, and he gently pushed you down, pinning you to the couch, your hands resting against his chest, as he hovered above you.
“Is…is this okay?” he asked, voice quivering with excitement.
“Mm-hmm…” you hummed, nodding in consent.
His breathing was heavy, and you felt a wave of heat flow through you. Peter watched as your chest rose and fell with every breath, and his eyes roamed up to meet yours. He slowly lowered himself closer to you, settling between your legs as you parted them. He could feel your chest brush against his with every breath you took, and he kept his dark eyes on yours.
“I…um…you’re, um, you’re really pretty,” he mumbled nervously, and you smiled, your hand coming up to cup his jaw once more. You pulled him down and kissed him tenderly.
What started off slow and gentle quickly turned into something more when Peter’s hands slid up and down your waist, fingers accidentally catching the hem of your shirt, forcing it to ride up with his movement.
“Shit,” he cursed, moving to get off of you. “I—I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I—“
“It’s okay,” you reassured him, rubbing his arms soothingly. “You can if you want to.”
“Oh..” Peter sighed. “Okay…”
He lowered himself onto you once more, hands running along your newly exposed skin as your shirt bunched up just below your chest. You were so soft and warm, and he loved it, drinking in how you felt as his hands roamed your waist. Your hand slid up his neck into his hair as you pulled him closer to you, lips barely touching and breaths mingling.
Peter’s hands slid to your hips, thumbs massaging your them as he kissed you roughly. His lips moved from your lips to your neck, and he loved the way your scent enveloped him. He savored the feeling of your skin on his lips and your soft whimpers filling the air.
You sighed as his lips glided onto your collarbone, tightening your grip on his hair. Peter’s mind could only focus on you, your smell, your sounds, your touch. You. You. You…
A loud explosion from the television stereos caught Peter off guard. He let out an exclamation of surprise and jumped off of you, thinking the loud noise came from somewhere outside and that someone had caught the two of you. In his panic, Peter lost his balance and fell off the couch, forehead knocking against the coffee table in the process.
“Peter, are you okay?!” you exclaimed worriedly, reaching down to help him back up. He plopped onto the couch, cradling his forehead. You reached for a cold soda can on the table, and pulled Peter’s hand down, pressing the condensation-slick can against his head.
“Ow!” he hissed. “That’s cold!”
“Well, it’ll be worse if I don’t do this!” you scolded. Peter gave you a look of feigned exasperation, and you rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand with yours and running your thumb over his knuckles.
“You’re such an idiot,” you chuckled. Peter took the soda can from your hand and placed it onto the coffee table.
“But I’m your idiot,” he grinned cheekily, leaning down to pull you into a kiss once more.
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