#they're much more an annoyance than actually helpful

[enbyboiwonder]

So we’re just straight up saying nonsense now, are we?

“it is usually bluish surface”

Yup, that makes total sense.

#i'm p sure the grammar suggestions used to be better than this #now i really really really wish they could be turned off on mobile #they're much more an annoyance than actually helpful #google grammar suggestions suck #ebw.op #'asos' isn't even a word???

[optimist-pine]

Bodyguard

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: people are naked, but it's barely even borderline suggestive

Summary: You need a bath, but there's no way you're going alone

Era: Season 1, the Quarry

Your skin practically crawls from the buildup of dirt, sweat, and who knows what else that's managed to accumulate over the past three days. You still haven't quite adjusted to the reality of not having on-demand access to a hot shower and your scalp is all oily, and itchy, and eugh - gross. A little shiver runs down your spine at the thought - well, maybe that's just more sweat...

The bold shades of the sunset are beginning to fade as you make your way to the Dixon brothers' camp. Currently they're the closest thing you have to neighbors, your tent being between theirs and the rest of the group. You're dying for a quick dip and rinse in the pond, but you don't actually want to die for a bath, and you know it's a dumb idea to go alone. Everyone else seems busy though and you've come to the conclusion that Daryl seems to be your only option.

Most of the others actively avoid the brothers, and you can't say you blame them. Merle's constantly stirring up trouble and being a general annoyance, and Daryl's quick to jump to his defense. But, on the rare occasion when Daryl isn't being held under Merle's thumb, you catch glimpses of a very different person than what he usually puts out.

He's sitting in an old lawn chair by the side of a fire when you approach, poking a stick around in the coals. Little sparks shoot off where the fresh evening air hits them, and the smell of woodsmoke fills your lungs.

"Hey." You greet. A spot of doubt begins to arise within you, but you quickly stamp it out. With recent events you were beginning to discover that there wasn't much room left for second guessing or overthinking anymore.

"Need somethin'?" He asks, eyes flicking up to you for a moment before returning to the flames.

You hang your thumbs in your belt loops, fingers tapping against your hips. "If you're not busy, I was hoping maybe you could go down to the water with me? I'd ask someone else but they all seem rather occupied at the moment... and I don't think Shane'd let me go alone." You say.

He looks up, jaw set awfully close to a scowl. "I ain't gonna be yer damn bodyguard." He huffs.

"No- I don't want you to watch me or anything like that- I guess I'm just asking for companionship?" You reply. "You could do whatever you're gonna do here, but just do it down there?" You hike your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the pond.

He stays silent, but a sudden chorus of laughter flows out from the direction of the rest of the group. You study the way the firelight smooths out his rough edges, and you can't help but wonder if the look in his eyes is just boredom or if it's really loneliness.

"Unless you prefer Merle's company, then by all means I'll leave ya to it." You continue, trying your best to ignore Merle sawing logs in the tent, and erase the image of his hand too close to his crotch from your mind.

He jams the stick into the dirt hard enough that it remains standing when he lets go. "A'ight. Lemme get 'mah stuff."

"Awesome, I'll be over at my tent when you're ready." You smile, pleased and a little surprised that you'd managed to get him to say yes. Admittedly, Merle wasn't so bad when he was passed out, but it was reassuring to know that you were at least preferred company over an unconscious jerk.

---

Dirt and gravel crunch under your boots as the two of you walk, your knapsack bouncing steadily against your back with each step. "Thanks for coming with me. I'm not necessarily afraid of the dark or anything, but there's a lot worse things in the woods now than just coyotes." You explain. "And it's just nice not to be alone."

He simply grunts in response.

Good thing you didn't ask him along for his conversational skills.

When you reach the edge of the water you find a rock close to the shore to set out clean clothes and a towel. You see Daryl settle down, back propped against a boulder as he starts rummaging around in his own bag. "Whatcha gonna work on?" You ask.

He pulls out a whetstone and a couple large hunting knives. "Cleanin' mah tools." He replies.

You begin to undress, but a feeling of uncertainty causes you to pause. "Man, I wish I didn't feel like he's sitting up there right now with those binoculars..."

"Who? Shane?" He asks sounding surprised.

"Yeah." You shudder. "Guy gives me the creeps."

You hear scrape of the knife grinding against the sharpener. "Well, hurry up an'ere won' be anythin' ta see." He says.

"Yeah..." You keep your eye on Daryl while you finish, but he doesn't lift his gaze even once beyond sharpening his knife. "I won't be long." You assure him as the cool water rises around you.

As soon as you're far enough in you dive forward, the rush of water instantly reviving and refreshing your whole body as it flows past. You rise upwards as giddiness fills you and you break the surface with a laugh. "This is heavenly!" You gasp. You continue diving and twirling, every sore muscle and painful bruise easing away.

You pause to catch your breath and a small splash has you immediately alert. You left your knife up on the shore with Daryl, but you hadn't heard any sounds of alarm from him so surely it's not a walker. But when you look to the shore the sight has you almost equally as shocked. Daryl is chest deep in the water - bare chested that is - ripples being sent out across the still expanse as he sinks further in.

"Hey!" You yell. "I asked you out here because I thought you weren't some sorta pervert!" You hope it's dark enough that nothing in the water is visible because he's only getting closer.

The moon is full and bright, and the way it reflects off the water makes him look almost ethereal. "Can't protect ya if I'm up'ere an' yer alla'way out 'ere." He reasons.

"I don't need protecting." You roll your eyes. "And all the weapons are up there, Dixon!" You send a splash of water directly into his face.

He returns the splash. "Looked like I was missin' out on alla fun." He shrugs. "'Sides, ya never know when somethin' might jus'-" he disappears under the surface of the water and barely a second later something wraps around your ankle, tugging you under the surface.

When you're released you bob back up to the top wanting to be stern, but you're too busy giggling and swallowing mouthfuls of water to do so. When he surfaces behind you, you turn and splash him again sputtering, "Daryl you- that's not- I can't-" and end up full on belly laughing while trying to stay afloat.

You think you catch the shadow of a smile on his lips before he turns and floats away, like he's done nothing worthy of retaliation. 'Oho boy is he gonna get it.' As quietly as possible you lower yourself in the water, and using shadows from the moonlight, you swim under his head. Reaching up with both hands you use all your strength to grab his shoulders and pull yourself above the surface while pushing him down as hard as you can. Then you make a break for it.

You hear him gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you swim as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

"Get back 'ere, woman!" He shouts, his tone highly amused. "Yer gonna hafta pay 'fer that!"

You don't realize how loudly you're laughing until the beam of a flashlight is suddenly shining directly in your face.

"Everything alright here?" Shane questions, standing on the shore not far from your and Daryl's discarded clothes. A few of the others are with him; Dale, Andrea, T-Dog, and Morales.

Even in the chilly water you can feel your skin begin to flush all the way down your neck. "Yes! All good!" You squeak out, squinting in the harsh brightness.

"We heard yelling." Andrea chimes in.

You're confident that in all your life you've never been more embarrassed. "That was laughing, guys. I wanted a bath and I asked Daryl to be my bodyguard. We were just, uh, blowing off some steam and I guess we got a little loud... Sorry if we worried anyone." You glance at Daryl who appears to be doing his best impression of the invisible man.

You can make out Dale's hat exceptionally well even in the darkness. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Their hesitation to leave sparks frustration within you - do they really think so lowly of Daryl? Is that what this is all about? Sure, nobody really knows him all that well, but you're all practically strangers and he's done alright by you. The desire to defend him takes over and you snap at the group, "Ah, what're y'all, the fun police? Go ruin somebody else's night and leave us be."

You don't take a good breath until they're all headed back to camp, and it's once again quiet and dark. You sigh, tilting your head back to watch the stars so high above as you float. "Dead people walking around eatin' living people - ya think they'd have bigger problems to deal with than a couple'a skinny dippers." You remark.

A quick exhale of a laugh, not quite a snort, echoes across the pond. "People're always jealous of'a good time if they ain't havin' one." He says quietly.

You pull your fingers through the water, feeling the tension push against them. "So... are ya feeling jealous, or did ya have a good time?" You ask.

"S'pose it wasn't too bad." He says. "But I ain't yer damn bodyguard."

And you grin.

---

Yeah, maybe it's a little awkward getting dried off, getting dressed, and walking back to camp but you sleep more soundly than you have since you arrived. And maybe you're a little annoyed with the way everyone seems to have nothing better to do than gossip, but that new gleam in Daryl's eye when he looks at you wipes it all from your mind. And maybe a lot of things suck, but at the end of the day there's someone who actually likes you, and maybe that's enough.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #optimist pine #twd season 1

[sunkissed-zegras]

thigh riding with Paige... 🤭

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | paige is ignoring you while she locks in while playing fortnite with kk, but you needed her attention (and she hates it when you're needy)

─ word count | 1.1k (this was supposed to be a blurb bruh)

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! kinda mean paige, thigh riding (who woulda guessed?), nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @plushkhiii @ilovepaigebueckerss @ajcuteee @vi0lentb3rry @paigeszn @brynsreads @delicateray

"PAIGE," YOU WHINED as she ignored you, her eyes plastered on her computer screen. You rolled your eyes as you sighed, collapsing back on the bed as your girlfriend continued playing Fortnite.

Her headset was on and her glasses were set on the bridge of her nose, her fingers clicking on the keyboard as she played. You were needy and dramatic, sure but it was for good reason, you hadn't seen Paige since the morning and you missed her. Yet right now, it seemed like playing her stupid game meant more to her than her girlfriend.

You wanted her attention but you didn't know how you were gonna get it. As you lay there, feeling neglected, you weighed your options. Interrupting her game would not go over well, but letting your feelings just sit there wouldn't help either.

"Dude they're following us, for sure." Paige mumbled into the headset as she groaned out loud. "I fucking told you, didn't I? I told you to leave it-"

Sighing once more, you sat up and watched her for a moment. The concentration etched on her face was almost endearing, but it also made you feel a bit left out. You wondered if she even realized how much time had passed since she last acknowledged your presence in the room.

An idea popped in your head as a smirk began forming on your lips. You walked up to her quietly, and put a hand on her shoulder as she looked up to see you. "Not right now, baby. Hold on,"

Hold on? Your jaw slightly dropped as you glared at your girlfriend. You couldn't believe Paige ─ her hot and very needy girlfriend was standing right next to her and she wanted her to hold on?

Gathering your courage, you spoke up again, your voice tinged with a hint of irritation. "Paige, seriously," you said, your tone firm. "I've been waiting for you all day, and all I want is a little bit of your time. Is it really too much to ask for?"

"KK, look out behind you!" Paige shouted into the headset, making you audibly groan before Paige finally glanced up at you again, putting a hand over her mic. "What? Why are you giving me attitude for, can't you wait for like, 5 minutes?"

You knew you were being overly dramatic and you knew that Paige hated when you'd give her attitude, especially for something small like this. But you finally had her attention and you were not gonna let it go now.

You met her gaze with a raised eyebrow, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, sorry to inconvenience you with my presence," you quipped, your voice laced with irritation. "I guess I'll just go find someone who actually wants to spend time with me."

Paige's eyes narrowed at your remark, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face. "Really? You're seriously going to pull that card over a stupid game?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, crossing your arms over your chest. "Why not?" you replied, a smug smirk playing on your lips. "It's not like you've paid any attention to me since you started playing anyway."

She sighed as she heard KK talk, "Yeah, I'm still here. Give me two seconds," she spoke as before she muted herself.

Two seconds, you gotta be kidding me. But before you could scoff or roll your eyes dramatically, Paige grabbed your arm and pulled you into her lap roughly. You stumbled as Paige pulled you into her lap, caught off guard by her sudden movement.

"Hey, what are you doing?" you protested, your voice tinged with annoyance as you struggled to regain your balance.

Paige ignored your protest, her grip firm as she held you close to her. "Fucking relax," she mumbled. "You're acting like a bitch in heat right now, you know that, right?"

You rolled your eyes but you couldn't help but feel yourself begin to get warm. Paige kept her gaze on you and as she pulled you off her lap for a second and gestured to your shorts before she unmuted herself. You stood there, almost shocked for a good two seconds before Paige sent you a look before you did as she told you.

You couldn't believe it took Paige a minute to win you back but you weren't complaining, you needed her. She stuck out her knee and you knew what to do ─ you straddled it as Paige kept her eyes locked on the screen.

"Yeah, you got 'em?" Paige spoke lowly as she felt your dampness hit her bare thigh, feeling a shiver go down her spine. Her cold knee sent a shiver down your spine as you bit your bottom lip.

You let a small whimper before Paige began rocking her knee, causing a full-blown moan to escape your lips. Paige sent you a warning glare as your eyes widen, your hand clasping over your hands.

"What was what noise?" Paige scoffed as she kept her gaze on the screen. "I didn't hear anything," she forced out a laugh as she kept rocking her knee, your cunt gliding against it.

You began to move alongside her knee, your head falling back as you gripped her shoulders. You felt pathetic, riding her thigh like a bitch in heat (in Paige's words) but it felt too good to stop. Your hips movements began more sporadic as Paige continued rocking her knee, muffled whimpers coming out of your lips.

Paige could tell that you were close so she put one of her hands on your hips, guiding you harder on her knee. Your eyes rolled on the back of your head as you let out a moan, feeling the knot in your stomach snap as you came undone on her thigh.

Your body felt like jelly as you collapsed on her chest, her hand moving up to the keyboard as she kept playing. A few minutes pass and you heard KK scream from her headset, glancing at the screen. She got it, she and KK had won the Victory Royale.

As the adrenaline from the game subsided, you nestled into Paige's chest, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the earlier tension, being close to Paige like this was all you really wanted.

"Yup, I gotta go, KK. Bro, I'll- yeah, yeah. I got it, I heard you the first time. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow morning." She hung up the call quickly as she pulled off her headset, her hands finally beginning to caress your back.

Paige looked down at you, a soft smile on her lips. "I'm sorry for ignoring you, pretty."

You glanced up at her with a small smile. "It's okay, you made it up."

Paige's soft smile formed into a cocky smirk as she shrugged. "Yeah and I did it with no fingers, huh?"

"None, cus you're just like that," you mumbled as she laughed softly, pulling you closer.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#wcbb x reader #wcbb #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic

[imababblekat]

Ways The TmnT Boy's Annoy Their S/O; Hc's

Anon request, "hello I love your work and I hope you are well I wanted to ask you for a fic with the turtles and a fem!reader, about things they do to jokingly annoy their girlfriend because its funny for them. <3"

~xXx~

Leonardo:

Leo doesn't normally try to annoy his s/o, but occasionally he does feel a bit cheeky and decides to pester them if they're in a decent mood

the thing he does most often in these small occurrences is randomly poke at their side, and when they ask what he needs he'll pretend to not know what he just did

loves doing it if they're working at something and he's wanting attention

you know that thing dad's do where they pretend to lick their hand and then try to gross you out by putting said hand in your space? well he does that too

will chase his s/o around either the lair or their place, mischievously grinning as they run away screeching at him to not even dare!

Leo never pushes his s/o past annoyance, and will always end his shenanigans with gentle laughter and apology kisses

Raphael:

this man has messed with his s/o before they were even his s/o; he knows all the right buttons to push and to what limit as to not go so far as to actually anger them

he can't help it, it's so adorable how they get all red and puffed up when he mildly irritates them

absolutely calls his s/o shorty and other ridiculous nicknames when he's being a butt

his favorite thing to do that always gets his s/o rolling their eyes is when they ask him for help with something such as opening a pickle jar, and he dramatically flexes his muscles while wagging his brow, stating that if they wanted to see him at work, all they had to do was ask

will also purposely man spread where ever they're seated so his s/o is basically forced to sit either between his lap or on it

Raphaels messing around is always in good fun, and he knows when enough is enough, even if your death glare is the cutest thing he's ever seen

Donatello:

his favorite way of annoying his s/o is honestly so adorable that it's hard for his s/o to stay mad about it for very long

his s/o will ask him for something like a snack, and before they can grab it from his hand he quickly holds it up above his head

will wink and state they have to pay the bae toll first, and despite all their groaning, his s/o will tip toe to give him a sweet kiss

will sometimes place things in a high place so his s/o has to ask him to get it, but more often than not they know he purposely placed it there and will try to jungle gym their way up to get it

he'll stand to the side with a smug smirk and ask them if they're sure they don't need his help, finding their determination to get whatever object themselves very adorable

whether or not they say yes, he's always read to catch them if they happen to slip or fall, in which case he'll hold off on putting their stuff high up for a while

Michelangelo:

most the time when he feels like annoying his s/o it's because he's either bored, wants attention, or both

his favorite way of doing so is playing the "gravity game", much to his s/o's dismay

Mikey will locate his s/o to find them keeling over some work that can honestly wait a day or two to be done, and if he can't bribe them to step away for a break with cuddles, he'll let out the biggest sigh, an indication of what he's got planned

his s/o will shoot him a knowing glare and tell him he better not, but it's too late, Mikey has already trudged his way over to where they're seated or standing and groans loudly about how heavy the Earth is, practically leaning all of his weight onto his flustered s/o

won't put his entire weight into it because he obviously doesn't want to crush them, but Mikey also won't let up till his s/o agrees to finally take a break and spend some time with him, to which he will act victorious and act suddenly weightless as he practically floats off with his blushing s/o for some quality time

~xXx~

#bayverse leo x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse mikey x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #aged up tmnt #anon request #imababblekat's writing

[daechvvitas]

BOYFRIEND MATERIAL

how i think each member would be like as a boyfriend part one - hyung line edition

WARNINGS: mentions of daddy k ink, praise k ink, brat taming, d*ggystyle, oral, bee dee ess em, degradation

A/N: this is a mixture of sfw/nsfw. thanks for requesting, anon! minors, dni.

NAMJOON

He's the most self conscious about the songs he writes about you. You're his biggest source of inspiration, so that means he wants the lyrics to be perfect. It throws him off kilter because normally, he can write a song in one sitting. Even in an ER room. But when they're about you, it's different. He likes the challenge, though. He feels like it makes him a better writer.

He points out baby shoes and clothing to you every time you guys are at a store. He's still not sure if he wants to have a kid or not but he can't help but still find the items super fucking adorable.

He has a bit of a daddy k ink. He never thought he would been into it but the first time it slipped out of your mouth, his brain went to static and he fucked you harder than he'd ever done before.

He buys you books specifically curated to your taste. Even more, he buys himself a copy too so that he can keep up with what you like.

He talks you through sex. It's full of a lot of praise and encouragement. "Look how good you're taking me" and the sorts. He also loves hearing validation from you that it feels good and he's doing well.

He hates when the two of you argue but he physically cannot stop himself from having the last word. What can I say? The man likes to be right. And sometimes, that stubbornness can lead to huge blow outs. He always makes it up to you, though. After a cool-off period, he'll come back with calmer logic and won't rest until the situation is resolved.

SEOKJIN

He always makes you meals, even when his schedule is insane. If he has to wake up in the wee hours to have it cooked and waiting in the fridge for you, then so be it.

He's a brat tamer. And he's damn good at it. Even if you don't have a particularly submissive nature, he'll have you a whimpering, shaking mess by the end of the night. But those intense nights come with the best aftercare. He'll run you a bath, make you food, and give you a ton of cuddles.

He's insistent on doing things for you, even if it annoys you. Grabbing things from high places, opening doors... You name it. He just likes showing how much he cares about you through action.

He's the type to jokingly rile you up but then end up actually getting really mad, which leads to arguments that could have been avoided.

Unfortunately, he has a bit of the gamer boyfriend syndrome. He does not like being interrupted when he's playing his games. He is a sucker for you, though. So he's willing to free up one of his hands to give you the attention you so desperately want. And no, he doesn't plan on muting his mic so you better keep those moans quiet.

He takes personal offense if he's not your bias or if you rocking any BT21 character that isn't RJ. He'll definitely give you a playful but bombastic side eye until you either change or admit that he is the only option to be your bias.

YOONGI

He wouldn't consider himself a 'romantic' but he shows that he cares through quality time. Even if you're just in the living room watching a show, he'll always quietly sit next to you. Just so you know he's always there.

Alternatively, he loves when you do the same. His genius lab is a sacred place that even his members don't dare to enter unless it's for work. But for you? It's an open door policy. Your presence motivates him more than it distracts him.

Speaking of his studio, the two of you have definitely fucked there. Multiple times. The first time it happened was just sort of a spur of the moment type of things but now, you live to bend over for him, chest pressed against the knobs of his music equipment as he thrusts into you.

He shares his food with you without any complaints or annoyance. If he notices you want a taste of whatever he has, he immediately offers it to you. Not even just a bite, either. He'll give you the whole thing.

He likes taking his time with you. There's a lot of foreplay where the tongue technology comes in hand. He loves to lick you, taste you, make you fall apart with just his mouth.

He prefers dates at home over dates out of the house, but he'll indulge you if you really want a night out. However, his ideal night would be cooking you both dinner, plenty of whiskey, and of course, you.

HOSEOK

Prepare to be touched all the time. Not even just sexually (though we'll get to that). He's just a very touchy feely boyfriend. Cheek kisses, hugs from behind, gripping your thigh. He just wants to feel your skin against his.

He loves sharing tea with you. He remembers every single piece of gossip you tell him, even if he doesn't know the parties involved, and enthusiastically picks whatever side you're on. In return, he always keeps you updated on the drama and insanity of his members' lives. There's really no secrets between you both.

He's a dom, for sure. When it's just the two of you behind closed doors, he feels comfortable enough to strip back the sunshine side and get to play with the darker side of him without judgement. He also finds it so hot that you trust him enough to go on wilder extremes together — tying you up, blindfolding you, spanking you. He craves having control over you.

His favorite form of aftercare is giving you a massage. Typically, he has you folded up like a pretzel as he has his way with you. So making sure your body is taken care of afterwards is of utmost importance. As he massages you, he likes to sweetly shower you with compliments just so you know that any degradation that occurred during sex does not hold true in real life.

He's the first to like your social media posts. Yes, he has notifications on just to make sure he's the first. It could be a selfie or a random picture of the sky and he's the first on the post, showering you with emojis.

Sometimes, he needs personal space. You didn't do anything wrong. But when things get hard at work or overwhelming in his personal life, he has the tendency to retract instead of engage. He doesn't ever have the heart to tell you that but you can tell by the short answers or less enthused interactions. The best thing you can do is give him that space to work through his head.

#namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts headcanons #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts as boyfriends #bts scenarios

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep #4

you hear some rumors about Eddie.

Chapter 4 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 3 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff and angst, lots of kisses, reader realizes she may not know as much about Eddie as she thinks she does (but don't worry, they're gonna be fine). Warnings: some nasty remarks are made about Eddie’s reputation. Word Count: ~4.6k I feel bad that all this wait has led to an angstier chapter, but I'm hoping the next part will be written sooner than this one was!

“I disagree.” 

“Look, The Shining is really good, I like it! I just don’t think it’s his best book.”

“I’d take more stock in your opinion if you weren’t putting It at the top of your list. Great book, but such a terrible ending.”

Eddie holds a hand up like he’s swearing an oath. “I’ll admit that it isn’t a perfect book, but it’s still some of the best writing Stephen King’s ever done.” Then he grimaces. “The notable exception being that…one scene in the sewer, um…I don’t really think it needed to be in there.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste, knowing exactly which scene he’s referring to. “I read that ABC is making a TV show out of it — I’m sure they’ll cut that part out.”

He laughs. “I think he was doing a lot of coke back then.”

Eddie is playing for you chauffeur today. Once again, after a late night he coaxed you into staying over at his place — but instead of just  dropping you at home the next morning and then leaving, he waited patiently for you in your living room while you got cleaned up and changed, before driving you to work.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it,” he muses, “maybe The Stand is number one for me.”

You concur. “Oooh, good one!”

“Did you know,” he exclaims, suddenly excited, dark eyes shining, “that Ride the Lightning by Metallica is a reference to a line from The Stand?” 

You search for familiarity in the phrase, and don’t find it. “It is?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy on death row who says it when he’s talking about the electric chair. That's why there's a picture of one on the album."

“Huh. Cool.”

Eddie snubs his cigarette out against the library’s exterior brick wall as you fumble with the keys. When the big double-doors are both unlocked, he pulls one open for you, and you kiss him on the cheek as you breeze past. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?” You pause, and reach back to give his hand a final squeeze. “Have a good day!”

Inside, you make it about halfway to the front desk before you realize that the unmistakable sound of Reeboks squeaking against the floor is following you.

You turn around, bewildered and amused. “Can I help you?”

Eddie just shrugs. “This is a public institution. I’m allowed in.”

“I didn’t realize ‘let me drop you off’ meant ‘let me come to work with you.’ Gosh, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

His reply is immediate. “No.”

The incredible thing is, you actually believe him.

You shake your head in awe. “Eddie Munson, you’re really somethin’, you know that?”

He leans in to kiss you one more time, soft and sweet, but you pull away before it can get too heated, keenly aware of the fact that you’re at your place of work, and that making out in full view of the entire — albeit currently empty — library? Probably a bad look.

Just in time, too, as Marissa was apparently not far behind you. You see the doors open again from over Eddie’s shoulder and the older librarian hurries into the building, low heels clacking noisily against the tile. Her face, which is seemingly-always pinched in annoyance, scrunches even further beneath her dark bangs when she realizes you’re not alone. 

“Good morning, Marissa,” you greet her politely.

“We’re technically not open yet,” she spits back, staring pointedly at Eddie. “He can’t be in here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Eddie beats you to it. “My apologies, ma’am. I was just heading back out.” It’s a remarkably respectful response for Eddie, who you’ve learned has a general distaste for authority, and you know that it’s for your sake. 

He gives you the tiniest wave as he walks away, and you return it with a smile, though your heart pangs with each step that takes him further away from you.

After clocking in you make your escape to the children’s area. It’s practically its own library, in a way — it takes up the whole back corner of the building and then some. Hundreds of thin, colorful books are jam-packed onto the shelves, which are built at an intentionally low height. The floor is covered in deep green carpeting, in contrast to the elegant, black-and-white tile that lies in the main library; all the flat surfaces are topped with stuffed animals and puppets and other baubles for the kids to admire and play with.

In the center of it all, there’s a wide space that’s been cleared out for Story Times and various other programs, which is headed by the overstuffed armchair that you like to read from. A number of miniature tables and stools line the side of the area, which are dotted with neatly-placed baskets of craft supplies. 

You’re pleased with the theme for the day: amongst the books you’ve chosen there are copies of A Bear Called Paddington and Corduroy ready to go. Markers, buttons, googly eyes, and glue have been set out on the tables, so they can make their own little bears for the craft activity. You’ve taken the initiative of cutting out the teddy shapes from heavy cardstock for them already — one less accident with scissors you need to worry about.

You’re nearly finished setting up when someone clears their throat behind you. Startled, you whirl around to see Marissa again.

“Hello,” you greet her in surprise. She usually lets you do your thing on Saturdays without much interruption. Your take in her expression, a little puzzled; the look on her face suddenly makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

She gives you a tight smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, dear. Everything going okay?”

“Ye-es…” Your answer drags out uncertainly. “Almost ready here.” You gesture unnecessarily around the room, unsure of what she’s getting at.

“Good, good,” she nods distractedly, not bothering to look and verify that you’re actually doing your job. “Listen, when you finish up this morning, come and find me. I want to have a little chat with you, alright?” Seeing the panic split across your face, she quickly adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s not work-related.”

Your head cocks to the side curiously, but she spins on her heel and leaves before you can ask her to elaborate.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Marissa’s request lurking in the back of your mind all the while, though you try to focus on your reading. She’s not really the warm and fuzzy type — somehow you doubt she’s interested in having a little girl-chat.

Some odd-two hours later, when the last of the kids have scampered away, you head cautiously back to the front desk where Marissa and another young clerk are speaking to one another in low voices.

Your coworker sees you approaching from over Marissa’s shoulder, and gives her a subtle nod, warning the older woman of your presence. A hush falls over their conversation, and you feel a stab of annoyance, knowing intuitively that whatever they were talking about, it certainly had something to do with you. 

She’s already blabbing to your coworkers about whatever this is? Gross. 

Marissa turns to face you, pretending to look surprised at your approach.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask her pleasantly.

Another one of those tight-lipped smiles. “Yes, why don’t you come back here with me.” She moves towards her office, waving for you to follow along. “A little more private in here,” she stage-whispers. 

When you’re alone in the tiny room, she shuts the door behind you, and takes a seat at her desk. You perch awkwardly on one of the folding chairs opposite her, clasping your hands on your lap — you feel a little bit like a wayward student in the principal’s office.

“Is…everything okay?” She said it wasn’t work-related, so you don’t have a clue what’s up. Surely if it was about Eddie being in the building before open, she would have reprimanded you earlier, when you were the only two people there. And that would be considered work-related anyway, wouldn’t it?

Marissa doesn’t answer immediately, so you try to be proactive. “If this is about my friend being here this morning, I’m so sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Not…exactly.” She purses her lips, not giving anything away. 

You blink, and try again. “Um, if this is about the oobleck thing again, I promise I was able to get it off the ceiling. You can check, it’s all clean.”

She almost cracks, a rare flash of amusement in her eyes, though it’s snuffed out quickly.

“It’s not that, either. I want to ask you about how things are going, just in general? I know you’re still pretty new to town. Have you been settling in okay these past few months?”

You think of the warm welcome you received from nearly everyone you’ve met. “Yeah, everything’s great. Everyone’s been really nice.”

She nods slowly, and when she speaks again, her tone is off — you can clock the feigned nonchalance right away. “I’ve noticed Eddie Munson has been here quite often this summer.”

You take this as confirmation of what you had already suspected — that Eddie’s frequenting of the library has more to do with you than anything else, and your lips can’t help but turn up into a fond smile.

“He likes to read,” you offer simply.

She’s more direct this time, eyes locking onto yours from behind her thick lenses. “He spends a lot of time talking to you while he’s here.”

Nervous heat starts to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. Is that what this is about? Has the quality of your work declined since Eddie started visiting you here? 

You’ve worried about this before. When your friendship began and he started coming in pretty regularly, you made a point that if Eddie was to be there, the distractions had to be kept to a minimum. He was very understanding about it. And in his defense, he did mostly keep out of your way — he sat and read, and chatted with you when you weren’t busy, or if you happened to be hidden away amongst the shelves working, out of Marissa’s sight. He even helped you clean up the mess left behind by your Storytime kids. But you suppose he had been a presence nonetheless.

Waiting for the hammer to fall, you bow your head. Your job is very important to you — as much as you like Eddie, you don’t want to jeopardize your position or your standing with your boss by having her think you’re boy-crazy. Guiltily, your mind scrambles to find the words for an apology, some promise to do better in the future.

But Marissa doesn’t even go there. And what she says instead startles you right out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Do you know about Eddie Munson?”

Your head pops back up in surprise, and you stare at her blankly, confused. “Know…what about him?”

“Listen, you’re a nice girl,” she simpers. “You’re a stellar employee — I wouldn’t want anyone else leading Family and Youth Services here. I think you have a lot of potential, and I don’t want you to squander it by getting involved with the wrong sort of people.”

Offense rises in your throat like bile. “Excuse me?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, dear,” she insists. “The Munsons have a reputation in this town — that young man especially —”

“Marissa,” your tone is sharp; she’s treading into dangerous territory. 

“He’s a criminal,” she warns. “Jim Hopper is far too soft on him. If he actually got in trouble for every law he broke, he’d be sitting in a jail cell right now.”

You gape at her. “What has he done?” you demand. 

Marissa sighs, and takes her glasses off, setting them aside while she massages the bridge of her nose tiredly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this” — you note that she doesn’t really sound sorry at all — “but he is a drug dealer, and a Satanist, amongst other things. He sells dope to kids and he all but started a cult when he was in high school. The oldest senior in Indiana, by the way,” she adds derisively.

You’re speechless.

She pushes on. “His father was a deadbeat, and in all the time that Eddie Munson has been living in Hawkins, all he’s done is prove that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fuming. Her audacity is too appalling for you to have any real reaction to the accusations; and regardless of whether or not those rumors are true, this certainly doesn’t feel like an appropriate way for you to find out about them. 

You take a deep breath, and choose your words carefully. “Respectfully, who I choose to associate with outside of work is no one’s business but my own. If you feel like my relationship with him is infringing upon my performance here, then by all means, tell me where I’m lacking, and I’ll improve. But please do not sit here and try to convince me to shun my friend because —” you falter, trying to keep your anger in check, “because of your personal feelings towards him.”

Because you’re a Grade-A bitch who listens to small town gossip.

Marissa settles back in her seat, face impassive. She purses her lips. “Alright. I see your point. But don’t be upset, dear, I’m really only trying to help you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you lie through gritted teeth.

“But before you make your mind up about him too quickly,” she adds, examining her fingernails casually, “ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.” Her eyes dart slyly up to yours, searching for any hint of recognition at the name.

There isn’t any — you’ve never heard of this person — but there’s an odd swooping sensation in your stomach at the mention of Eddie possibly being involved with another girl. It makes you feel sort of…ill. 

But you won’t let your face betray your surprise. You keep your expression neutral, composed. You manage a final nod at Marissa, and rise to leave. She doesn’t say anything to stop you, so you take that as your cue to exit the office, your mind swirling with unanswered questions.

Across town, at the Munson trailer, a Dungeons and Dragons session is set to begin any minute. Dustin Henderson has arrived early with snacks, and is making himself all too comfortable on the squashy sofa.

Hellfire Club had still gone on strong three years after Eddie’s miraculous, long-awaited graduation, due to the combined efforts of the small group of freshmen he recruited in his last year. And it will continue to do so even now that they’re gone, thanks to one Erica Sinclair, who is rumored to be the most brutal Dungeons and Dragons player in the entire Midwest…after Eddie, of course.

Despite the fact that he remained in Hawkins, and that Dustin often begged him to join them, Eddie had respectfully bowed out of any and all Hellfire-related activities after graduating, in an effort to display a modicum of maturity. He didn’t want to be that guy hanging around his old high school because he didn’t have anything better to do.

But as a favor to his favorite kid, Eddie’s DMing their summer campaign as a last hurrah. Just Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, and a slightly newer addition — Will Byers, who came after his time, but seems a nice enough kid. It gives the boys a chance to all play together one last time before they part ways.

Eddie hopes they manage to stay friends, despite it all.

“Thanks, Henderson, but I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Eddie says sarcastically.

Dustin gives him an annoyingly-superior look. “I’m just saying, Suzie and I have been in a loving relationship for many years now — if you need any dating advice, I’m your guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “Dude, she’s spent almost all the time you’ve known her across the country in Mormonland.” 

Purely defensive. He hates to admit it, but Dustin’s right. He and Suzie’s relationship has lasted for a far, far longer time than any fling Eddie’s ever had. But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna sit down and let the little twerp talk to him like he knows something about something.

Little — Dustin Henderson is college-bound, heading off to some fancy private school on a merit scholarship, leaving Hawkins and grabbing life by the balls. He might still be a shrimpy dork, but Eddie’s secretly mourning the impending loss of his young friend.

“So,” continues Dustin, chomping on a Twizzler, lounging back against the cushions, “when do I get to meet her?”

Eddie chuckles, yanking the candy bag across the couch towards himself. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever she wants to, I guess.”

Dustin snickers. “Would you be mad if I just showed up at her job and ambushed her?”

Eddie cuts his eyes over to the younger boy, wry smirk on his lips. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t been reading much this summer,” Dustin admits. “Too busy trying to cram in a bunch of stuff before we all…” he trails off, gaze growing distant. 

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters back. He’s been there.

Dustin coughs. “Anyway, you should invite her to meet us at Benny’s after this. You said you’re picking her up from work, right?”

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

The rickety front door swings open, a trio of laughing teenage boys barging in without bothering to knock. Tall, gangling Mike; Lucas, smiling in his letterman jacket; and Will, hanging back shyly, clutching his player’s handbook.

Eddie can’t help but grin. Dustin cocks an eyebrow at them.

“You assholes ready or what?”

Throughout the entire day, you think about what Marissa told you. 

Yes, you’re angry at her for somehow thinking that would be an appropriate conversation for the two of you to have. Yes, you’re upset to hear her say such disparaging things about someone you’ve known to be nothing but sweet and kind. It feels like such an injustice, that Eddie be subjected to such cruel remarks. 

But still, there’s a sliver of uncertainty in your heart now, a dark cloud looming in the distance of yours and Eddie’s budding relationship. 

When your shift ends, you linger outside by the doors, waiting for Eddie to pick you up. A tiny part of you regrets the decision to let him bring you in to work, but you try and shake the feeling away.

You hate that you’re feeling this way. Internally, you scold yourself for letting Marissa’s words get to you. Why should you listen to what she says, anyway? Don’t you trust that you know him better than she does?

Do you believe Eddie to be a devil-worshipping cult leader? Certainly not. Eddie is a far cry away from what the media makes guys like him out to be. He’s not violent, or practicing any Satanic rituals; he just happens to like scary music and think that fantasy games are cool.

Do you believe Eddie to be a drug dealer? Well, that one, maybe…

Do you believe Eddie to have some sordid past — or, more worryingly, present — with someone named Chrissy Cunningham?

Before you can decide what to think about her, the sound of a wailing guitar drifts through the air, getting louder and louder — finally, a familiar green and white van is turning the corner, Eddie’s dark head, visible through the open windows, bobbing up and down in time with the music.

“Hey!” he shouts with a grin as he approaches the curb, yelling so as to be heard over the noise. With some effort, you smile back. He lowers the tape so it plays at a more bearable volume, as you open the door and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you greet him.

He leans across the center consol to give you a kiss, one calloused hand cupping your cheek. You can his smell cologne, the sweat beaded on his neck, and a faint smokiness clinging to his curls, you suppose, from his last cigarette; these, combined with how soft and plush his lips feel against yours push the thought of Chrissy Cunningham temporarily from your mind, along with any other thought you may have potentially had in this moment.

Eddie pecks at your lips again and again, then settles back in his seat, letting his hand fall onto your knee. “How was work?”

You squirm uneasily. “It was fine,” you half-lie, not sure what you should tell him. 

“Kids behaving?” he asks.

“About as much as I could expect them to,” you sigh.

Eddie gazes at you, his dark eyes curious; you’re normally much more upbeat than this when you see him after a long day. His face brightens when he remembers what he wanted to ask you, thinking that it may cheer you up. “Well, it’s all over with now, right? You’re free. And I had an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he explains, “I was thinking, I can take you home, or — if you want — you can come get dinner at Benny’s with me and the guys?” He smiles hopefully. “The others are on their way there already. They’re dorks, but they’re good kids, and Dustin has been bugging me to bring you around.”

You think it over. Admittedly, you’ve been dying to see how Eddie acts around his teenage friends. And maybe this is just what you need to dispel your discomfort; a night out with Eddie and his pals, surrounded by people who know and love him.

Eddie senses your hesitation. “We won’t be out too long,” he reassures you, “because I’m working tonight. But still, no pressure if you’re not up for it.”

He leaves the choice up to you, but he’s giving you the puppy dogs. You nod, giving in. “Okay,” you agree. “Sounds like fun.”

Being crammed in a diner booth with five other guys isn’t normally your idea of comfortable, but their raucous laughter and boyish antics make it just that — comfortable. You’re pushed up against the wall, with Eddie pressed into your side, one tatted arm slung over your shoulder. Dustin sits opposite you, with Will and Lucas; Mike occupies the last seat next to Eddie. 

The affection between the younger boys is tangible; this is a group of friends who have known each other a long, long time. They all talk at once, interrupting and speaking over one another, unless someone shoots a question at you, in which case, Eddie holds up a hand to silence them all, so your response can be heard.

Eddie interjects every so often, arguing playfully and poking fun at them, but he mostly watches with amusement, letting them carry the bulk of the conversation. It’s funny; he has the air of a cool uncle about him, the one who supervises carefully but also lets you sneak a sip from his can of beer when no one’s looking.

More than once, you notice Eddie glancing sidelong at you, watching your reaction to the spectacle before you. He smiles when you catch him, and squeezes your thigh under the table. 

“So you woke up early to take her to work, ran D and D all day, and now you’re going to work a late shift? Are you planning on going to sleep on top of the bar?” Dustin is staring at Eddie in disbelief.

Eddie shrugs. “I sleep all day on Sunday.” He suddenly flicks a french fry at Dustin across the table. “What can I say? I’m extremely devoted to all of you,” he says sarcastically.

“One of us, anyway,” snickers Lucas, nodding his head at you.

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie replies sternly, tightening the arm he has around you, holding you as closely as the cramped space permits. Without an ounce of shame or embarrassment, he leans in and smacks a wet kiss to your forehead.

A chorus of “oooh”s erupts, along with one “gross!” and you can’t stop the happy smile from unfurling across your face. 

In this greasy diner booth surrounded by teenage boys, with Eddie so unabashedly declaring his affection for you, the pressure that’s been weighing on your chest since this morning dissipates almost completely.

“Ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.”

Almost.

The car ride home is quiet. Eddie has foregone his metal tapes, and instead lets the radio softly crackle out a tune from The Cure. Normally he’d switch the station in distaste, but something about it tonight just feels right. 

“You’re just like a dream…you’re just like a dream…”

You’re gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He can’t stop sneaking looks at you, at the way your lips are parted, the slight furrow to your brow. He wants to kiss the worry-line away. 

“Everything okay?” 

Your eyes refocus on him, and you give him a half-smile. “Everything’s okay,” you tell him, looking back down again, twiddling your thumbs.

There’s a hitch in your voice that concerns him. “Tired?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he should press the issue.

“Yeah, kind of. Things were…a little overwhelming today, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “They should give you a helper or something. That’s a lot to deal with by yourself, even if it’s only for an hour or two.” He pulls up to the curb in front of your house, engine idling. Then he moves in for another kiss, gentler than any other he’s given you today. 

After just a few moments, you’re the one to break it, pulling back ever so slightly and leaving him wanting.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper, breath ghosting over his lips. You’re already reaching behind you for the door handle.

Eddie's caught off guard by the speed of your goodbye. “Goodnight,” he replies, dazed, sad to see you wrenching the door open so quickly, without the usual lingering kisses and touches he adores. 

You hop out and he watches your retreating back as you tread across the sidewalk towards the house. He leans over the center consol, towards the open passenger window. “Sweetheart?” he calls out.

You turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

He makes a come-hither motion with two ringed fingers. “Come here for a second.”

You double back and make your way around the vehicle, so you’re standing on the other side of Eddie’s door. With your arms propped against the sill of his window, you lean against the van, letting it support your weight.

You look at him expectantly, waiting.

He reaches out and touches your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone, savoring the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know I sort of sprung it on you,” he says apologetically.

You smile at him, warm though tinged with a sadness he can’t put his finger on. “I had fun. You’re right — they are nice boys.” 

Eddie sighs, still tracing your flesh. “Could I trouble you for one more kiss?” he asks quietly, blushing cheeks dimpling. “For the road?”

To his relief, you seem to melt a little, swaying lightly on your feet as you hold onto the sill and oblige him. 

Eddie’s other hand molds to the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he kisses you one last time, urgency pervading all his senses, as though he might not get another.

When he releases you he's breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, letting your noses rub together. Finally, he relaxes back in the seat.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he says.

thank you for reading!! <3 Read Ch. 5 -> Here!

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea, @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[prettyboypistol]

How the TF2 Mercs De-stress/Manage Anger

Scout

Actually a stereotypical movie bad boy about it. Cigarette, batting cage, and punching bags his emotions out. Shouts at people and shoves them out of his way, throat closed up in welled up emotions, his lungs refusing to give him air as the tightness of slamming against the metaphorical wall of frustration feels like it kills him inside. You know what? Being so tired you can barely register the world around? It's better than feeling like an elephant trapped in a jam jar.

Soldier

Works out and represses the expressions unless he's in battle. That's actually where he gets most of his energy. He thinks of all the shit that pissed him off or made him feel small and uses that flicker of rage as the start of the firecracker of a soldier on the field. Doesn't talk about his emotions much and doesn't see any need to. Yeah, a few drinks in and he gets sappy, but that's normal. Anger usually gets metal pipes bent or people's faces bashed in. Usually both.

Pyro

Expresses anger and stress as overexcitabiliy and hyperactivity. A constant overstimulation mode. Referencing the comics, Pyro won't hesitate to kill a bitch knowingly if they are pissed off. They're the reason it's called a "crime of passion". High spikes of anger followed by a low simmer of calmness. Actually pretty good about deep breaths when it comes to mild annoyances or daily stress, but the over the top bullshit absolutely gets an over the top reaction.

Heavy

Intimidation and powerplay is the name of Heavy's game. Sharp glares and a clear body message of "I will snap your spine if you breathe near me." This comes from his time in the gulag, when he had to keep himself and his family safe. Looking murderous when upset had a lot of advantages. When it actually comes to relieving the anger, he's an isolationist. Def thinks over the situation over and over again as he distracts himself with one of his hobbies. Usually not reading because his mind wanders off too much to focus on the pages.

Engineer

Hyperactive workaholic. He locks himself in his workshop and doesn't leave until he makes something either revolutionary or a man made horror you could only fathom in your nightmares. Whatever, he can sell it to the Administrator as a torture device. Who cares. Engie isn't much of a talker so much as he is a ranter. He grumbles and shouts to himself in a one way conversation as he tightens that one bolt that gave him trouble. Only once has he dented one of his sentries with his wrench when the energy was too much to comprehend.

Demoman

As is his usual solution, he drinks. He drinks and he talks. It doesn't matter to who or even if people are with him. Talking and bitching helps him to understand the situation, get his feelings validated, and develop more points of view. If that doesn't work, there's always testing his explosives. That release of emotions as he watches the burn pile explode is cathartic in a way. Pyro usually joins in and watches the fire, giving Demo someone to talk to.

Sniper

Also an isolationist, but you couldn't tell either way unless you pissed him off while talking to him. If it's just him, then you wouldn't even know that motherfucker was milliseconds away from starting a fight. Mutters to himself softly, barely able to hear the words himself as he shoots at sodacans and empty food containers all lined up by his van. Long drives while music plays in the background is one of his guilty pleasures when he can get away with it. If you ask what's bothering him he'll have a 50/50 between shrugging and saying a dismissive "it's nothing, just woke up wrong" or will barely explain it, but get the just of it accurately.

Spy

Tries to work through it physically, not emotionally. Man's has never talked about his emotions in his life and you won't make him start now. Usually very bitchy when something pisses him off, and his weapon of choice is personal insults. It's a funny thing really. He needs to feel superior by putting others down because the anger and stress makes him feel weak. There is only one good way to snap him out of a bad mood: casually praise him. "Nice work, Spy." "I knew I could count on you." "Thanks Spy, you're a lifesaver." Are instant soothers. It's nice to be acknowledged.

Medic

Workaholic worse than Engie. This man is really out here about to create an elderitch horror because he stubbed his toe and spilled his coffee. Strained smiles and snide comments are his language when he's had a bad day. If someone directly irritates him, that man is a solid 6'1 minimum and is built. He will and continue to physically intimidate people. Has violent fantasies as a cope.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 x reader #fanfiction #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 soldier #sniper x reader #tf2 headcannons #prettyboy pistol

[nunalastor]

Even though a whole bunch of stuff with Susan and Vox is just weird, chaotic, metaphorical dick measuring, I like to think that the whole thing does result in Lucifer and Alastor forming a weird sort of friendship. It helps that Lucifer isn't actually coming onto Alastor and is pretty conscious about not overstepping. And Alastor does think some of the ways Lucifer messes with Vox are pretty funny. He even gives Lucifer some suggestions on how to better piss Vox off. But when they're not putting on a performance for Vox and Susan, the two of them find themselves talking almost normally. Not without some teasing jabs, but nowhere near as vitriolic as they were before the whole thing started.

One night while chatting over drinks, they get on the topic of Susan and her weird assumptions about Alastor's love life.

"I'm not even queer. Susan just got it into her head because I have more women than men as friends and don't go chasing skirts."

Lucifer's a little surprised because, he admits, he sort of came to the same conclusion. To Alastor's annoyance. They keep talking and eventually Alastor says something along the lines that he just assumes his standards are weirdly high and he'll know the right person when he meets her (assuming it will be a woman). He likes the idea of being in a relationship, but he doesn't feel the need to actively seek one out. Lucifer asks about Rosie to which Alastor says he tried dating Rosie at some point and the two of them mutually agreed they worked better as friends. Lucifer then asks if he's sure he's not some flavor of queer.

"I'm not attracted to men."

"You don't seem to be attracted to women either." (based on a real conversation I've had)

That gives Alastor some pause.

Lucifer lets Alastor change the subject when things get a little to heavy for him to deal with, but Lucifer's sort of touched that Alastor shared this much and he got to see a side of Alastor that was a bit, well, human.

👀👀👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #radioapple #lucifer #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #nunalastor asks #susan (derogatory) #the cox chronicles

[the-boy-meets-evil]

fool for you | kmg (18+)

where you and mingyu have a pact to always spend valentine's day together when you're single pairing: kim mingyu x f.reader genre: friends to lovers; fluff, smut rating: explicit; minors DNI warning: mentions of drinking (they're not drunk), some swearing, mingyu is described as a puppy, kissing, light marking, mentions of some biting, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (be safe), one use of a pet name (baby), i think that's it but if you see something else, lemme know! word count: ~4.8k a/n: this is for a valentine's day collab by the lovely @playmetheclassics @here4btsfics and @missgeniality. thank you for planning this. and to one of my favorite people, @ugh-yoongi this is for you, happy love day! banner credit: @classicscreations, thank you bby

It’s always been like this with you and your best friend since you were teenagers. Ever since that awful (read: not that bad, you were just a dramatic teenager) break-up you went through in your second year of high school just before Valentine’s Day. All because your boyfriend didn’t want to have to buy you anything. Which was dumb, you think, because you were teenagers and you weren’t exactly expecting some grand gesture. Not when you’d been dating for less than a year. 

But you were upset in that angsty teenager kind of way and Mingyu swooped in to try and fix it, in true best friend fashion. He showed up at your house that night with all your favorite snacks and some movie that you couldn’t remember. What you did remember, though, was your promise to always be each other’s Valentine’s date if you were both single. It wasn’t as much for him as you and you knew that. You couldn’t help it, you just loved love and the idea of spending the day with someone special. Which he was to you. 

Now it’s been 10 years since you made the promise to each other. Those 10 years have seen you both through finishing high school, going to college, countless dates, and so much change. The only thing that hasn’t changed is always making time for each other, no matter what else was going on. Mingyu is your best friend and you know you’re his. You’re sure nothing can change that.

And since you’re both actually adults now (kind of), you can go out to dinner for Valentine’s Day at a nice place with good food. Some of your other friends think it’s weird, that you go out on what’s essentially a date on the “most romantic” day of the year. That’s when you always chime in to remind everyone that Valentine’s Day is about love, not just romantic relationships. You and Mingyu do love each other, always have. Why not celebrate that?

“Cheers to another year spent with my favorite person,” you say and raise the glass of champagne, a complimentary one for all reservations that night. 

“Yeah I guess you’re okay,” Mingyu agrees when he clinks his glass against yours. 

“Wow, I see how it is,” you retort and he smiles. 

“I’m always happy when we get to do this, you know that,” Mingyu says.

“Maybe,” you shrug, “doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”

“Ah yes, the attention monster reappears,” Mingyu says and you roll your eyes without any real annoyance behind it.

“Hey, I was really good when you were dating Nayeon,” you protest. “I just like getting to hang out with my best friend.”

“You’re right,” he concedes. 

You’re expecting him to say more because you haven’t really talked about the breakup even though it’s been about a month. “That’s it?”

“What?” he asks, reaching for a roll in the center of the table. 

“I just, I don’t know, we haven’t really talked about what happened with her,” you say. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mingyu says. It’s more of a shrug than anything as he grabs a roll. “You knew we were having problems.”

This kind of sparks your interest, so you pull the butter away before he can reach it. At first, a look of betrayal flashes across his face. Playful, of course. And then he’s pouting. God, he’s such a puppy sometimes. Just a giant goofball who has no idea how big he is.

“I know you were having problems,” you finally say to correct him. “Last time I saw you and her together, she seemed happy.”

Mingyu just looks at you for a second. “She didn’t like my friends and it just got old. I was sick of having to justify hanging out with them.”

“Well your friends are idiots,” you say and hand over the butter. 

“And to think they always talk about how much they love you,” he says and you laugh. 

“I love them too, but they’re still idiots. Both can be true,” you say. 

“Yeah, well, Nayeon didn’t see it that way, so,” Mingyu trails off with a shrug. 

You reach a hand across the table and his hand meets yours instinctively. “I know I joke around with you, but I am sorry. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” he insists and you frown. “Come on, I’ve still got you and some amazing friends. I’m good.”

“Okay,” you agree and reluctantly pull your hand back.

“Besides, I think it’s you we need to talk about,” he says and your brow furrows. 

“What about me?” you ask, a little nervous to hear the answer because it is Mingyu, after all.

“Did you forget that it was Seokmin who introduced you to Jeonghan?” Mingyu asks and he’s got that little smirk that you really fucking hate sometimes. Shithead.

“I didn’t forget,” you say and pretend to find the drink menu interesting even though you’ve already ordered.

“Nope, sorry,” Mingyu says and plucks the menu from your hand. “I told you about Nayeon.”

“You two dated for like 9 months? It wasn’t the same?” you point out incredulously.

“And you ghosted him,” Mingyu barks out with a laugh. “The poor guy, he was heartbroken.”

“Oh, he was not,” you scoff. “There wasn’t any spark.”

“That damn spark,” Mingyu says with a shake of his head. 

And because sometimes life is actually fair, the appetizer shows up and distracts Mingyu from any further line of questioning. He’s been wanting to try this restaurant since it opened. You’re not really sure why he never went with Nayeon. It’s a win for you though. And Mingyu loves food. He’s an incredible cook, but who would ever mind someone else cooking for them? 

It’s also kind of cute. Mingyu is this giant ball of energy, exactly like the puppy you compared him to earlier. More like a golden retriever actually, because he can be smart and also very dumb. He’s always moving until he passes out. He’s fiercely loyal. But when he’s happy and eating something like this, he just kind of slows down, gets focused. There’s something endearing about it.

Dessert is always the same for the two of you too. You pretend that you only want a bite or two of whatever Mingyu orders and end up eating most of it while he pouts until you order something else. Part of you thinks that you should just order two to start, the other part kind of likes your little tradition. There are a lot of things that you like doing with Mingyu. This is your favorite though, this stupid little Valentine’s Day tradition. Maybe it’s the comfort or the safety. Maybe it’s knowing that even if you’re dating someone shitty, Mingyu will always be there.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, grabbing a bite of cake with his fork.

“Not sure when we started asking if we could ask questions, but go on,” you say. 

“What’s the real reason you didn’t give Jeonghan a chance?” Mingyu asks and that makes you look up suddenly.

“I already told you,” you answer.

“Not sure when we started avoiding answering things, but go on,” he says, throwing your line back at you.

“I mean, it’s true, I didn’t feel a spark and I don’t know,” you say as you search for the words. “I guess I just don’t wanna be wasting my time dating someone when it’s not going to go anywhere.”

“You never know though,” he says and you can’t really pinpoint the emotion.

“I don’t know,” you say and think for a second. “Have you ever just gone on a date and been sitting across from someone that’s nice and smart and funny and attractive, literally everything you should want but…it’s just, not there?”

Mingyu chuckles even though it’s not really funny. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“And, okay, like part of me was also thinking that this holiday was coming up. So I either had to just shut it down or agree to do something with him,” you say and look down, embarrassed about what you’re going to admit. “I just kind of thought I’d rather spend tonight with you, someone I know I like being around, rather than in some sort of new, probably undefined, relationship with him. Like what if he picked a shitty restaurant or made shitty plans? What if we run out of things to talk about?”

“Wait, you turned him down so you could spend Valentine’s Day with me?” Mingyu asks, eyes wide.

“Come on, not like that,” you say and ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “Just, I don’t know, we always have fun.”

“You like doing this with me,” Mingyu says and you roll your eyes.

“Course I do, Gyu,” you answer easily.

“What if it was like that, though?” he asks and you cock your head to the side. “Like what if we were on a date and it wasn’t just another Valentine’s Day with friends?”

“Mingyu, we’re not…” you start and falter at the look on his face. “Are you serious?” 

“You do realize that I’ve actually never been in a relationship on Valentine’s Day, right?” he asks and that stupid smirk is back. 

“You must’ve been, we haven’t done this every year,” you say and you’re trying to wrack your brain to see if it’s true. 

“No, you’re right, we haven’t. We’ve missed 3 since we made the deal when we were fifteen, all when you were in a relationship,” Mingyu says and you’re at a loss for words. 

“Does that mean…?” you try to ask but your mouth just can’t see to catch up with your brain and your heart. 

“Do you wanna get out of here and go back to my apartment? It might be easier to talk there,” he says and you just nod. 

It’s a lot of information to process and for once, Mingyu is quiet by your side. His hand is firm around yours, which doesn’t feel like a big deal because you’ve held hands for years. Except that it’s entirely different now. And when he needs it back so he can actually drive with both his hands, a part of you misses the comfort of it. Misses the security. 

You’re quiet in the elevator and on the walk to his front door, quiet as you walk through the doorway. Even the apartment is quiet, which is surprising given how loud one of Mingyu’s roommates tends to be. But the place is empty, apparently, as Mingyu tells you when he breaks the silence to ask if he can take your coat to hang it up. It’s a strange feeling for a lot of reasons. Right now it’s strange to have Mingyu taking care of you when it’s usually the other way around.

It’s quiet again as you walk the familiar path to the living room to sit down while Mingyu makes you a cup of tea. When he hands it to you, you know that it’ll be perfect because Mingyu’s been your best friend for over a decade and he knows everything about you. And that’s when you realize. Maybe he knew this too. Maybe he’s a step ahead of you in realizing there are real feelings here. Maybe he’s the one you can depend on. 

“How long?” you ask, figuring you need to speak eventually.

“Have I liked you?” he asks, needing clarification. You only nod. When he doesn’t answer immediately, you look over at him. Study his face in profile before he answers. “It’s kind of a long answer, I guess. I had a crush on you that first Valentine’s Day, but I figured you also just needed a friend. And I realized how much I did love our friendship. Plus we were kids.”

He takes a breath to collect his thoughts. “I haven’t been in love with you for 10 years, just to be clear,” he says and chuckles. “Not that I haven’t thought about it either. Mostly it’s just been that you were my best friend and we went on these little friend dates and I didn’t think too deeply about it.”

“Did something change?” you ask, still not ready to address your own feelings. 

“I’m not sure how to explain it. Nayeon and I were just kind of throwing out things for Valentine’s Day even though it was still over a month away. And she made a comment about how she hoped you’d have someone so you wouldn’t be missing me,” Mingyu says and frowns. 

“She isn’t exactly the first to not like it,” you say quietly. 

“It wasn’t even that, it was all me,” Mingyu says honestly. “I started to think about how I wouldn’t get to spend it with you and that was…a wake-up call. Nayeon and I broke it off not much after that. And honestly, what I said about my friends was true. She hated Seokmin.”

“How does anyone hate him? He’s a sunshine baby,” you say and Mingyu laughs. “Minghao I get, maybe, because he can be mean if he doesn’t like you. But not Seokmin.”

“Right?” he agrees. “So I was thinking about you and us and trying to sort things out when Seokmin said he was going to introduce you to Jeonghan and my heart broke. I couldn’t imagine having just broken it off with Nayeon only to still not get to see you for our tradition. That’s when I knew for sure. And we aren’t kids anymore.”

“So, like, what do we do now?” you ask, and Mingyu studies you for a moment.

“What do you want to do?” he asks. “I mean, are you…oh my god, why is this so hard? I just told you how I felt but I don’t know…”

He’s rambling and it’s incredibly endearing because he doesn’t usually get flustered like this. It also makes you realize that he’s laid everything out while you’ve said almost nothing. You rest a hand on his leg to stop him from stuttering through things. “Hey, I realize I didn’t say this. But I do have feelings for you too.”

“You do?” Mingyu asks, his whole face lighting up.

“Yeah, dummy, that’s what I really meant when I was talking about sitting across from Jeonghan not feeling the spark. He’s a great guy but he’s not you,” you say easily. 

“What do we do now?” Mingyu asks, making you laugh. 

“I mean like I really wanna kiss you, so,” you say, watching as his eyes go wide, just for a moment. 

And then he’s sliding over on the couch, gently tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, so careful like he can’t tell if it’s all really happening. So cautious. It’s at odds with your best friend who’s always tripping over his own feet and never seems to know just how big he is. Your whole body is hyper-aware of his and even though he admitted his feelings first, you’re still a little worried that this isn’t real either. When his lips finally meet yours, it occurs to you just how many times you’ve imagined this. How many times you’ve looked at his lips and wondered if they were soft or what they would feel like against yours. How many times you’ve wondered about his hands running over your body.

His lips feel better than you expected, the perfect mix of soft and firm against your own. One of his large hands cups the side of your face, fingers curling around behind your ear. You’re not even sure which one of you deepens the kiss, you’re only aware that your tongues are moving together and that it’s making you feel a little light-headed. The angle is awkward but you’re not sure you really care. You’re kissing your best friend and it’s everything you’ve ever needed and nothing like you thought. 

He pulls away and you’re a little embarrassed by the way your lips chase after his, a little unused to being the one that pouts in this relationship. Yet that’s exactly what you do when you see him just looking at you.

“Is this actually happening?” he asks. You let out of huff of air.

“Well not now, since you stopped kissing me,” you say. You expect him to laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, he only looks fond. So incredibly fond. 

“Never would’ve pegged you as the pouty, whiny type,” Mingyu says. Now you’re the one that rolls your eyes.

“I’m leaving,” you announce and get up. 

You’re actually a little surprised when he lets you stand up and take a few steps toward the door. There’s a chance for your stomach to drop, just a little bit. And then he’s grabbing your arm to spin you around to him. 

Fuck, he’s tall. Which you’ve always known, but it’s different when he’s crowding your space and caging you between his arms. Your back is against the wall when you finally tilt your head up to look at him. Whatever playful glint that had been in his eyes earlier is gone. There’s no question that he wants you as much as you want him, maybe more. 

You pull his face down to yours to kiss him again, harder this time, let your hands tangle in his hair that he’s finally grown out after literal years of asking him. His hands grip your hips, just on the right side of too hard. 

And, okay, you don’t want to complain, but Mingyu genuinely is a giant and it’s kind of hard on your neck to crane it so you can continue kissing him. Just as you start to rise up on your tiptoes, Mingyu’s hands move from your hips down to the backs of your thighs. You gasp into his mouth when he picks you up, balancing you against the wall. It’s nothing but heat between the two of you when you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to help him keep you held up.

“Fuck this,” he says quietly as he pulls you away from the wall. 

You squeak at losing your backrest and wrap your arms around his neck tighter like you’re afraid to fall. He just chuckles.

“You know I’d never drop you,” he assures you, voice low. 

Even though he said it, you’re expecting him to deposit you on the bed. He doesn’t. He’s so gentle when he places you on the edge of his bed and you’re wondering where all the restraint is coming from. You sure as hell don’t have this kind of control.

Almost on their own, your hands reach for his shirt and he watches as you unbutton it carefully, sliding it down his arms. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen him shirtless (and you’ve seen him shirtless a lot), he’s still beautiful. So beautiful that you don’t realize he’s reaching for the hem of your dress, that’s already almost at your hips from him picking you up, removing it quickly before unclasping your bra just as quickly. It leaves you almost completely exposed, only your underwear left. The urge to be shy is brief when you see the way he’s looking at you. You spare a moment to consider if anyone’s ever looked at you like that (they haven’t, you’re sure). 

This time the kiss you get is actually quick before his mouth moves down over your body. He sucks one of your nipples between his teeth and your back arches in response. And there’s something a little weird about it all. There’s nobody in the world you know better than Mingyu, with his endless energy and restlessness. But you didn’t know this side of him. The side where he takes his time, slows down so every moment feels more important, focuses on you and you alone. 

You don’t stop him as he continues to move down your body and nips along the way. It doesn’t matter that he’s marking you up, doesn’t make you pause like it has before with anyone else. Not that anyone is going to be seeing these marks anyway, since he’s currently focusing on your inner thigh. And fuck, it feels good, but you’re also a little impatient, a little needy when your hand knots in his long hair again. Without even seeing his face, you know he’s smiling. Smirking, probably. He doesn’t have to tell you that he loves to see you whiny for him. 

(He does anyway, though, because he’s still a menace to society and to you specifically. He doesn’t have to tease you either, but he does that too, making you beg before he removes your underwear.)

“Mingyu please,” you beg, already reduced to this. 

His legs on yours from between your legs and you let out a heavy breath. His eyes are still on you when he asks, “what is it you’re asking for?”

“Something, anything,” you say because you’re no longer too proud to beg. You can yell at him for it later. Right now you just need. 

A second later, he gives you what you asked for. He runs his tongue up your folds lazily, too slow. It’s deliberate, you know. And you know that you should appreciate that he’s not in a rush. It’s just that you’re so on edge and this isn’t helping. Maybe he can tell by the way your hand tightens in his hair or the way you moan or even the way you squirm with his tongue inside you. Whatever it is, something makes him speed up and praises fall easily from your lips. The praises only seem to push him on, which isn’t surprising. Mingyu has always had a thing about praise. 

Mingyu slides a finger inside your cunt without much warning and it’s all too much. You never really paid that much attention to his hands (which was good for your sanity, probably). But his long finger moves quickly inside your cunt and you clench around him without meaning too. He hums against your clit, makes it feel like a praise. When he slides a second finger in, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last. The rhythm of his fingers sliding inside you along with his mouth on your clit is driving you wild. 

He curls his fingers inside of you and thrusts faster, not teasing now, certainly not dragging it out. It’s silent permission for you to let go. The orgasm rips through you and you fall back onto the bed, dully aware of him guiding you through it. You’re breathing heavily when you feel his fingers slide out and prop yourself up in time to see him put his fingers in his own mouth. And fuck, okay that’s also really hot. 

You lean forward to undo his pants. Those fall to the floor with his boxer briefs and your eyes go a little wide. He’s bigger than you’re expecting, not that you’ve spent much time thinking about him. Now he’s the one that looks a little shy, even though it was you that was just coming on his tongue. 

He goes to grip his cock and you snap out of it, gently moving his hand away. Instead, you lean forward to spit on the tip, spreading it along his length, thinking you might tease him. Just a little bit. Your strokes are slow, at least at first, and he just watches, seems to be caught up in the moment. Until he gets impatient and jerks a little into your hand, even though you can tell he’s trying not to. 

You just look up at him, watch his eyes on you as you take his cock into your mouth. Mingyu gathers your hair in his hands, but lets you go at your own pace. Slowly, you find your rhythm, taking as much into your mouth as you can. Mingyu seems to like to give praise as much as he likes to receive it, though, because it falls out of his mouth between his groans.

“Baby, hang on,” Mingyu says and gently pulls himself back. Your eyes go wide for a second before registering that his look is just want. “Can I…I mean, I really want to fuck you. Fuck, I really want to feel you.”

That, almost more than anything else, goes straight to your core. You know you’re already getting wet again but why does he have to look like that when he says it? Why does he have to look like this is more than he’s ever experience? Why did him calling you baby make your brain short circuit? 

“God, yes Mingyu, yes, I want to feel you inside me,” you manage to say as you’re moving back into the center of the bed. 

Mingyu is reaching for his bedside table the next second and you watch him. There’s a part of you that knows it’s best to be safe, knows that you never know. But the other part, the much louder part, just wants to feel him. It’s the part that knows even though he could be a fuckboy, he’s not. Knows he doesn’t sleep around. So you tell him you’ve got an IUD, even though he already knows, and not to worry. He checks, because he cares about you more than he knows how to express, but there’s a part of him that’s excited too.

He’s hovering over you the next second, pressing kisses against every bit of your skin his lips come into contact with. He only stops for a second to line himself up at your entrance, slides the tip between your folds and comments on how wet you are again. As soon as he presses the tip into your cunt, his lips are on yours again, catching the moans. Or maybe distracting you from how big he is inside of you. 

You’re thankful for this side of him, the side that’s so careful with you, the side that’s much more in control of his body than you’ve seen anywhere else. Thankful because he’s moving slowly, letting you adjust. And because you know neither of you are going to last that long once he actually does start moving. 

“Please,” you nearly whisper, fingers digging into Mingyu’s arms. 

It’s all he needs, though. He starts moving, slowly snapping his hips as he thrusts into you. It’s all so much. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this much while fucking someone. You love to love and love feelings, but sex has always been somehow separate for you. Not that you don’t feel during sex. It’s just that you’ve always been able to separate the feelings. You can’t imagine doing that now and maybe that’s because none of them were Mingyu.

You know he wants to make it last, you do too, but it’s all just really overwhelming. So you focus on this moment, on how he speeds up, how his breath sounds so close to you, the way his muscles contract with each movement, on the way he stretches you. You dig your nails into his arms to keep yourself grounded and he groans. He picks up his pace a little more, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting all the way in, making you scream out. 

It feels like it all happens too fast. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm. And you know Mingyu is close too, can feel the way his thrusts falter. You clench around him, let him know you’re close, say whatever comes out. Most of it is probably incoherent, you think. But he understands anyway, is right there with you. Your second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first. Mingyu thrusts through it, releasing into you in the process. 

It’s a few minutes later, after you’ve both somewhat caught your breath and he’s pulled out of you, that you fully realize what’s happening. Mingyu has one hand behind his head and the other arm around you, eyes closed. You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him, appreciate all his features up close for what feels like the first time in all your years of friendship. He opens his eyes and meets yours. It’s the best smile you can ever remember seeing. 

“So, I guess we’re doing this,” you say, watching his face closely.

“Yeah, we are,” he agrees, no room for argument. “I’m not letting go of you now.”

You lay back down and bury your face in his side. You’re not sure what else to say. “Hey, Mingyu?”

“Hmm?” he says. You feel it more than hear it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

this ended up being a little longer than i meant, but let me know your thoughts <3

#thekpopuniverse #kvanity #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x you #mingyu fanfic #svt fic #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fluff

[itoshi-s]

anon requested: rin + "why do you keep marking me up? it's hard to mask and people are staring..." // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wk: 1.5k. cw: mildly suggestive, fem coded reader, mention of bruises/hickeys, fluff. rin wears a panda headband i want to eat him whole

standing in front of your full-width bathroom mirror at 6:43 am, eyes still bleary with sleep and hair sticking out in odd directions, you think you just might actually hate your boyfriend.

you know he doesn't exactly mean to do it - but all sense of rationality is long forgotten when the bright violet, reddish bruises are the first thing you notice in your reflection.

with a sigh, you put your fluffy headband on, keeping every hair out of your face, then start applying makeup. you'll have to be quick with it this time, too - you have hit snooze once or twice, and you certainly don't want to be late, yet still have something else than your face to spend time on camouflaging.

the soft playlist you've put on helps calm some of the annoyance that bubbles in your chest as you hum along under your breath, curling your lashes and applying a final coat of mascara. you put on your lip gloss, smacking your lips as you stare at your reflection, and as the initial bleariness of waking up dies down, you actually feel more amused than irritated upon the sight of hickeys littered down your neck.

rin's a possessive lover. he wants - needs - to feel every inch of your skin under his large, roaming hands. he grabs and kneads the flesh, holds it in a tight grip when he manhandles you however he seems fit. when in the moment, rin doesn't pay any mind whether it leaves marks - in fact, there are times when he wants it more than anything, like when you get home from a party looking just a tad too pretty and the green eyed monster creeps up on him. just want to mark up what's mine, the teal-eyed would mumble, laying on his tummy as he glares at you childishly.

you adore his passionate nature - feel on top of the world and like the most beautiful thing to exist when he gives you that look, overcome with love and desire.

but, for the love of god, you appreciate your sleep and sanity just as much, you think as you dab on the third layer of thick concealer, stacked on top of color corrector that really fucking struggles to balance out the purple hues.

you check the time, realizing you've got to leave the house in half an hour now, and that rin's alarm should go off in a minute or two.

as if on cue, there's a pair of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, then they're pushed open to reveal your boyfriend in all his sleepy glory.

shirtless and rubbing at his eyes, rin yawns as he makes his way over to your side of the bathroom counter. he circles an arm around your waist, broad chest feeling warm against your fluffy robe, and he sighs as his head drops to your shoulder.

"hi," rin mumbles, voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep as his lips move against the bare skin on your neck. he kisses a birthmark there and gives your waist a squeeze, turquoise gaze meeting your reflection in the mirror with an appreciative hum. "y'look nice, baby." a pause, "no eyeliner today?"

you just give a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows twitching to furrow and lips almost curling into a smirk. he's so, so clueless - it's endearing, in a way, you think as you watch him slip away and stand by the second sink.

"mm. don't have time for it today." you say softly, stuffing your powder brush back into your makeup bag and zipping it close.

perhaps your voice sounds a bit too quiet, or the exhaustion is still prominent on your features despite the glowy products you so carefully put on, cause rin's eyes drift back to life and gleam with worry.

he turns the faucet on and fiddles with the temperature, giving your face an once-over in the mirror before turning to the sink again.

"oh." he nods, fingers reaching for the fluffy, panda-eared headband you took off barely a few seconds ago. pulling it on with ease, rin wants to say something more, but dismisses it and goes to wash his face instead.

the water, as nice as it feels on his face, doesn't wash off any of this funny, uneasy feeling. is something wrong? are you mad at him? do you feel bad and shouldn't go to work today? (he will make you call it off if that's the case. there's no way you're going in sick.)

there's many possibilities, and he won't be certain until he asks. dabbing his face off with a towel, rin clears his throat to speak before turning to you - but you beat him to it.

"rin," you begin, voice sounding so resigned it makes his brows knit together. "why do you keep marking me up?"

blinking not once, not twice, but perhaps a few times too many, he does look so clueless, so silly, you have to bite back a laugh. you're supposed to be annoyed with him - but how can you really, when he's just doing all that out of bottomless, unconditional love?

continuing, "it's hard to mask and people are staring..." you trail off, giving yourself a glance in the mirror, head tilting to show more of the poorly concealed marks, as if to prove your point.

you look back at rin, who now doesn't look as puzzled anymore. instead, there's a slight frown settled in his pretty features, long lashes still damp and stuck together, lips pulled into a tight line that almost resembles a pout.

the black, fluffy ears sticking out from messy green hair really sell the look, though.

"what do you mean?" rin argues, and you go to sigh, crossing your arms. "you cover these up?"

your eyes widen, snapping over to the striker's face again. for a second, you think you've misheard him - but in fact, he does look as serious as it gets. your heart jolts with shock, flabbergasted at how truly, utterly shameless he is.

"rin!" you gasp, finger pointing to the side of your neck in exasperation. "of course i do! i can't go around work like that," you insist, tugging the hem of your robe to the side.

the man scowls, eyes trained on the faint pinks and purples. "well i don't see anythin' wrong with it," he deadpans and your shoulders slump in defeat. rin turns to face the mirror again, reaching for his toothbrush.

"everyone else does," you whine, pulling at the tie around your waist and sliding the robe off. you go to hang it up, then reach for the clothes you've neatly folded and laid on the counter last night. "i... like the way they look. and feel." you start bashfully, eyes trained on the ground when you step into your dress pants and swiftly pull them up your legs.

rin smirks at that, just slightly before you can see it and smack it right off his face.

you're quiet for a second, and rin takes the time to trail his eyes down your body as he sticks the toothbrush in his mouth. well, to be fair, there are quite a few bruises littered all over, some darker than others. there's a bite mark-shaped one, too, right on the swell of your breast, which you go to cover with the skin tight long sleeve you put on next.

(he fears your reaction when you go to look into the mirror and see it peeking out the neckline.)

it might irk you, and make people uncomfortable or amused, even - but he loves the way they look on your skin, a sharp contract to the smooth, glowy canvas, momentarily stained with his love that runs oh, so feverishly through every single cell in his body.

isn't it only natural he wants to find an output for it and eventually mark what's his?

"but-" you continue, fixing the gold charm between your breasts, the small, zirconia-studded R glimmering under the bathroom lights. "i'd appreciate it if you... kept it down." you mumble, looking up at rin again and your gaze meets his in the mirror.

rin rolls his eyes dramatically, lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile as he brushes his teeth. perhaps, he can try and opt for more... hidden places. it's not ideal - the need to showcase his claim on you still as strong as ever - but not everyone can pay so little mind to what others think of him like he does. certainly, you can't. not with your line of work, either.

he knows, and that's why it almost feels funny when his heart thumps in his chest with refusal. maybe he is a little immature, in a way - but maybe, it's not such a bad thing at all. not when it's your love that makes him feel like a kid, carefree and playful again.

"fine." rin grumbles, words muffled around the brush as he works it on the back of his teeth, sending you an amused look that has your tummy doing flips. "will hav'ta find other ways to mark my territory, though."

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenario #bllk imagines

[boyfhee]

HEESEUNG BF HEADCANONS

g fluff w kissing if that counts fem reader wc 1.1k note based on my relationship with heeseung ( i have never seen him irl ) requested

the e in lee heeseung stands for excellent boyfriend and there are five es in his name

he's shy, he's adorable, he's flirty— basically all in one package

like catch him blushing at every little act of physical affection because he just!!! loves!!! you!!! so!!! much!!!

MILESTONES, milestones are important to him. he remembers the first kiss and the first date, the day he said 'i love you' for the first time and vice versa

you will never not hear from him because he texts you all the time, at any time of the day. he could be the busiest person on the planet and would still make time to text you or call you

“this picture reminds me of you,” “i thought you had a stage rn?” you'd text back. “i have in five, but i wanted to send that to you”

the managers are done with him but they can't help it either, you two are just adorable

has the best hugs :( literally wraps his arms around you as soon as he sees you. like he sees you and his mind goes. MUST HUG!!!!

has a really bad habit of pinning you against anything

it's mostly the closest wall that you find yourself pinned against with him just a few inches away, but if you're in the kitchen, he'll pin you against the counter. walk into a room? you're pinned against the door. relaxing on a couch? he's on top of you, caging you between his arms while pinning you down

it's because he likes having you close to him but also loves to see the effect he has on you, the way he can get you flustered in a matter of minutes— even seconds, and the way you pretend to be annoyed— it makes you even more irresistible

talking about annoyance and anger...he has another bad habit, which is to kiss you whenever you're angry

yeah no, he does respect your boundaries and is so down to listen to the reasoning behind your anger, but catch him scooting closer to you minute by minute, close until he can't get any closer, and he kisses you until your anger has disappeared

while we're on the topic of kisses, i'd like to introduce you to the concept of : neck kisses with heeseung 🙏

YEAH NO his lips always, always, trail down your neck and collarbones whenever you two are close, especially while cuddling together

mostly because he loves to see you all shy :< but also because he just loves your reactions when he's kissing your neck

WHISPERS SWEET NOTHINGS AND I LOVE YOUS BETWEEN KISSES it's one of the many things that make him feel even closer to you than he already is

soft whispers of compliments and endearments against your lips during slow and lazy make outs, sweet kisses against your cheeks and neck while he calls your his pretty girl, the way his fingers tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear while he looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the entire world— they're a few things from a long list of reasons why you fall for him every single day, all over again

calls you 'love' and it's the sweetest thing ever, he says it like it's your name, as if the word came into existence because of you, and before you, it was just meaningless

but also calls you baby, especially when he's trying to get your attention

“love, come here, please” “are you ignoring me, love?” “baby, please,”

yeah, that is the process, and you're usually in his arms by the third try. he just knows what you want a little too well

LOVES it when you're laying with your head on his lap and let him play with your hair while he also peppers your face with kisses in between. will tell you to do the same as 'payback' but actually, he enjoys it when you play with his hair

i think heeseung is very good with words, so catch him reciting essays for you even when you least expect it, but it's mostly before bed

he just wants you to know how much you mean to him, and how you're singlehandedly the most important person in his life. he wants you to know that you're loved, in case he isn't able to show it well :(

LATE NIGHT DATES he's always down for some three am escapades to the nearest stores and parks, just something about sauntering on empty streets with his hands intertwined with yours makes him feel at home

but if you aren't able to sleep and date is not on the list of things to do. . .catch him making a midnight snack for you!!!!!!! like you just have to say the word and he's be in the kitchen, whipping up something for you really quick

loves it when you watch him cook, he loves to watch you cook as well. he prefers to have you sit on the counter while he's cooking because it makes it easier for him to steal a few kisses here and there

loves it even more to see you enjoy what he cooked for you, catch him getting shy every time you compliment his cooking. it's not all that, you know it's not really much, but it's more than enough for you, and he wants nothing else

plans the best dates!!!! from fancy dinner at a restaurant to stay-home dates comprising of movies and doing chores— yes doing chores together feels like a date to him

he just likes to do the simplest of things with you, whether it is doing the dishes or washing or laundry, or just cleaning up and rearranging the rooms. he likes to be a part of every little thing in your life, he likes it when you're a part of his daily routine, it tells him that you're here to stay

HE'S SUCH A TEASE THOUGH like there's this playful side to him behind all that cuteness i mean?? his favourite thing to do is interrupt you with short kisses whenever you're talking to him, but he also does it when you're on phone with someone

OH AND he loves getting presents for you, most of the times it's something he makes. like one time you complained about not being able to find a good ringtone and my guy PRODUCED one for you he's asking to be proposed at this point

ratings : ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆ 10/10 bf, would recommend

#—approved. #k-labels #enhanet #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x y/n

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

[20:57]

Tags: Christopher Bang/Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, dirty talk, mild degradation and objectification (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pussy smacking (f. receiving), breast spanking (f. receiving), nipple play (f. receiving), finger sucking (f. receiving), choking (f.receiving), piv sex without a condom, pseudo exhibitionism (? No actual exhibitionism but Reader and Chris get off on the idea of it) creampie and mentions of aftercare.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Chris isn't a strict man. Well, he's not much of a strict man.

He has very simple rules to follow and, they're more than fair. Honestly, even with a few of them, a bat of your eyelashes and a jut of your bottom lip is enough for him to forgive you for breaking them.

One of his most important ones is not to interrupt him while he's working unless it's an emergency. No disrupting him while he's producing. No disrupting him while he's streaming.

Simple enough.

However, it's a little too enjoyable pushing the boundaries with your sweetheart of a boyfriend sometimes.

The panic that barely flits across Chris's face when your name flashes across his phone almost makes you feel the slightest bit guilt. Almost.

You can't help but, giggle quietly to yourself when his eyes widen marginally at the image on his screen. Nothing but one of your large night shirts drapped over your nude body. Your hardened nipples poking through the white fabric and the barest hints of your thighs visible in the shot too. It's nothing too scandalous but, it's enough for you to notice his eyes darken marginally and his jaw clench.

A barrage of butterflies erupting in your stomach and lower, drinking in the way his face changes. Anyone who isn't too familiar with him would barely notice the shifts but, you know Chris better than the back of your hand.

"Sorry, Stays. Got an important message that I had to check. Sorry for that," he forces a giggle out and his dimples would be endearing if you didn't notice the how tense his smile is.

Perhaps you could've still saved yourself if you'd stopped there. If you didn't let the intrusive, exhilarating impulse to push his buttons win. However, you let them. So, you continue. The pictures of your scantily clad body continue to fill your chat with him periodically. You're not stupid enough to spam him with them but, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip eargely with every glance of his eyes to his phone when your name and 'image' pop up.

The tick in his jaw and barely restrained annoyance in his eyes shouldn't be as enticing as it is. Arousal simmer in the pit of your stomach with every minute change of his expression.

"Thank you all so much for watching. I love you and, I'll see you next time!" He attempts to end off the hours long stream cheerily. Striking his signature peace sign pose before your laptop screen goes black momentarily.

You're not left to stew in your thoughts for long. Your phone vibrating next to you within seconds.

Chris 💕: come here.

The smile that spreads across your face is likely a tad too wide and too toothy but, you can't bring yourself to care. Clamouring to your feet, you make your way to his makeshift work room within minutes. Steeling your resolve, you push on the handle and enter the room.

Your entire body seizes for what seems like a lifetime when Chris's gaze finds you. His eyes are easily one of your favourite features of his. Soft and warm and welcoming and everything that you love about him.

None of those emotions are present as he pierces you with them now.

"I said come here," he says lazily but, you know better than to miss the edge in his voice. Your insides squirming viciously as he lightly pats his, admittedly appealing, lap. His thighs straining against the shorts he opted for this time around.

Once you remember how to move, you walk towards him. Studiously avoiding his weighted stare until you're between his spread thighs. Your heart hammering against your ribcage as you wait for him to do or say anything. Anything to end your spiralling.

Chris's hands are firm as they settle on your hips and turn you around. Your brain barely manages to piece together what has happened as you now find yourself seated on his lap. Arousal spreading all across your body, to your very fingertips when you feel his half-hard cock against the swell of your ass.

"You wanted my attention, right?" He mutters into your ear. The brushes of his pillowy lips and soft breaths sending shudders down your spine while his hands innocently palm your thighs. Toying with the hem of your shirt enough to quicken your breathing.

One of his hands drifts to your throat, applying enough pressure to prompt whimpers from you and more of your arousal to seep into your already sticky panties, "I asked you a question."

"Ye-Yes. I wanted your attention," you manage to rush out. The lack of air adding to the already muddled state of your mind and you barely register his other hand shoving itself between your spread thighs.

"God, you're so wet already," he practically moans. His long fingers trailing over your soiled panties. Forcing them to cling to your folds even more and, ever brush of your clit prompting your hips to jolt into his hand.

"Did you get this wet sending me all of those pictures?" His words leave his lips more like a bite than a question. From his hand lightly wrapped around your throat and his fingers seemingly content with toying with you over your panties, it's no wonder you don't have the presence of mind to immediately respond. Your body curling into him while hushed moans fill the space of his room.

Chris's typical patience is nowhere to be found tonight. His hand comes down firm and harsh on your slick slit. Angling it just right so your clit is met with the brunt of the impact. It hurts. It hurts enough to force more watery whimpers from you and more of your arousal to leak out of your clenching hole.

"I asked you a question," he says with another quick spank to your almost ruined panties. His firm grip on your neck keeping you from curling into yourself, "My, my. I've had to repeat myself twice already. I'd hate to have to repeat myself a third time."

It's so easy to get lost in the gentle lull of his voice. Your hazy brain just barely catching the underlying threat in his tone.

"I'm sorry, Chris," you whimper out, desperately clinging to his veiny forearms in some hope of steadying yourself and focusing, "Ye-Yes. Sending those pictures made me wet. I wanted to- I liked riling you up."

"There we go," he purrs into your ear, sending bolts of lightning straight down to your sensitive clit and puffy folds, "Maybe you can be an obedient girl after all."

Any pleas and begging are swallowing by a stuttered moan as he slips his fingers into your panties. Continuing his previous ministrations and leisurely stroking you as though he has all of the time in the world. As though you can't feel his cock swelling underneath you. However, his composure never falters.

"Yes, Chris please," you beg, sounding pathetic to even your own ears but, you couldn't care less right now. You've been starved of his touch for hours. You might just crumble right here, right now if he doesn't touch you how you want. How you need.

"You're so fucking spoiled," he bites, running his teeth along your lobe as he adds a bit more pressure on the sides of your neck. Skillful fingers alternating between teasing your eager entrance and drawing featherlight circles along your clit.

"Fucking brat. Getting me fucking hard while I'm supposed to be working and, now you want to be greedy?" The knowledge that he'd gotten hard while streaming coupled with the sprinkles of humiliation from the venom in his voice just make you buck harder into his hand. In search of anything he's willing to allow you.

"I'm sorry," you keen, trying your best to grind into his hand, "I just wanted your attention. I'm sorry," you repeat desperately. Clutching at his forearms as his fingers apply more pressure to your swollen clit. His other hand freeing your throat and snaking its way under your shirt to knead your breast.

"Can't even go without me for a few fucking hours," he mutters into your neck while his hands toy with you to his heart's content, "You're so spoiled."

Any argument you have dies on your tongue when he pushes two of his long fingers into your soaked hole while his fingers pinch and tug at your hardened nipple. The pain forcing your walls to clamp around his fingers viciously.

He laps and nips at every bit of your skin that he can while his fingers work you open. Your foggy mind just barely being able to register his hips grinding up into you in search of some sort of friction. The lewd sounds of how wet you are intertwining with your high-pitched moans and needy keens all that can be heard.

The heel of his palm is angled so that it rubs right into your clit. "Chris ah," you cry out, your fingernails digging themselves deeper into his forearms as he builds up your release expertly. You jolt forward once again when his heavy palm comes down on both of your breasts in rapid succession. Whimpers coaxed out of you as more of your arousal drenches his hand. You wouldn't be surprised if you'd leaked onto his shorts by now.

"This a punishment, baby," he coos. It's so easy to sink into the softness of his voice. The juxtaposition in his tone and words and movements all only tightening the knot in the depths of your gut.

"Don't forget," he whispers into your skin as his lightly drags his teeth along you. Goosebumps rising all over your body and your orgasm building up higher and higher-

Only for Chris to stop his movements all together.

"Chris," the way you whine his name is frankly pathetic to your own ears but, you can bring yourself to feel self-conscious when you were so close you could practically taste it. Your wetness further coating his palm and your walls spasming. Your hips jerking up to his touch instinctively.

"I've definitely spoiled you too much," he drawls into your skin. Easing his fingers out of you as though you're not close to tears from having bliss ripped away from you so mercilessly.

"Chris. Chris please. I'm sorry, I won't do it again. I won't disobey you again," you rush out, your hips grinding your sopping pussy against him for a taste of relief. "I'll be good please. Please. I want to cum please."

"Remember, this is supposed to be a punishment, baby," he tuts into your skin. However, the butterflies in your stomach rise to your throat as he manoeuvres you so he can reach the waistband of his shorts. Impatiently tugging them and his boxers down so he can free his cock.

You watch as best as you can as he barely wraps his hand around it. Giving it a few pumps before lightly smacking it against your wet folds. His tip occasional brushing your clit and causing needy whimpers to leave your dry lips.

"Do you want something?"

You're not above begging, "You, Chris. Please touch me. I want you to fuck me, please. I want to feel your cock inside of me plea-" a sharp gasp leaves you as he guides your hips down onto his cock. Making sure he's properly aligned before pushing you down onto it. He's seemingly content to let you claw at his biceps as he stretches you. Your lashes flutter with every centimetre that he let's you sink onto.

Your walls clench and unclench around him sporadically, his tip kissing the deepest parts of you as he gives you time to adjust. His hand drifting from your hip back to fondle and massage your breast while his other hand cups your face.

His first thrust is merciless. Barely allowing you a moment to catch your breath or for your mind to catch up as his sets a harsh pace from the offset. The obscene sounds of his cock shaping your pussy around him echoing through his work room coupled with your respective watery moans and gritted curses.

His fingers toy with your bottom lip and you open your mouth without anymore prompting from him. Your tongue lapping at his fingers and the slight saltiness of your wetness hitting your tastebuds as he shoves them deeper into your mouth. Gagging you on them.

"Look at you," he pants out between sharp thrusts, "Spreading your thighs and letting me fuck you in my work room. Sucking on my fingers like you're little better than a mindless toy."

Your keens are completely muffled by his fingers and your pussy tightens around him further as his words wash over you. God, you're getting close again you pray to whoever is listening that he'll let you cum this time. You may just lose your mind if he doesn't.

"Want everyone to know how much of a needy toy you are?" He mutters into your shoulder, using his unoccupied fingers to angle your face, "Want me to fuck you during one of my streams? Let the entire world know how much of a disobedient slut you are?"

The thoughts makes your head spin. You're nodding before you even realise it. Clutching him to you even closer as he continues to fuck into your poor pussy. The sight of his camera aimed directly at the two of you bringing back that all too familiar sensation of the knot in your gut tightening.

"Yeah?" He moans into your overheated, sticky skin, "You like the idea of that don't you. Love the thought of everyone watching me fuck your pretty pussy." He breathes between laboured groans of his own. His hold on your breast burning and his fingers coating themselves further in your saliva that dribbles down your chin.

"Want everyone to watch you get your pussy filled with my cum," he laughs with little humour. You honestly don't know he's still able to speak so coherently when you feel like your mind is coming apart at the seams.

"You're such an attention seeker."

His words are scorching lashes that serve to only further fuel your desire and bring you closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs quivering and you're vaguely worried that you might have dug a little too deeply into his pale skin with your nails.

"Fuck," he breathes, his hips beginning to stuttering into you, "Your perfect pussy just tightened even more around me. That's filthy, baby. You do like the idea of spreading your thighs for everyone to watch huh," he pants against your skin between strained groans. His cock twitching incessantly inside of you with each every uncoordinated thrust.

Your frantic nods only spur him on further. His grip on your jaw and breast bruising as his orgasm hits him. Thick ropes of his cum filling your spasming walls while his moans, curses and pants of your name hit your ears. It doesn't take much else for you to cum around his still twitching cock after that. Your head flying back to rest on his shoulder as your hips rock against him. Your combined releases dribbling out of your spent pussy onto his softening cock and likely onto his couch.

You're too far away to care all that much right now.

Chris recovers before you do. Gently pulling his wet fingers from your mouth and kiss the side of your face. His large hand shifting downwards from your breast to soothe you as you continue to twitch in his lap. "You did so well, baby," he coos against the side of your face. Affectionately nudging you with his nose as he pulls you further into his broad, sweaty chest. The skin left bare by his tank top hot to the touch.

"You were so mean," you pout tiredly with no real venom. Fatigue replacing every other emotion as you happily melt into him.

His laugh is far too cute given everything he put you through moments ago and his cum still leaking down your thighs, "I wouldn't have to be mean if you listened to me."

You have no retort for that.

"Now come on, let's get you cleaned up and go to bed, okay?"

AN: I was originally working on a much softer Chris timestamp then Paris happened. So, here we are. I am going through something with Chris at the moment it seems given how long this winded up being.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

#bang chan smut #chan stray kids smut #stray kids chan smut #chan smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut

[alchemistc]

Eddie practices his arguments with Steve.

The thing is -

Here's the thing. It's not that he's expecting an argument. So far every time either one of them have been irritated with one another, or pissed off about something, they usually just, like, talk about it and shit. Healthy-like, which is -

Totally fucking weird for Eddie My-Parents-Fought-As-A-Love-Language Munson and Steve Still-Figuring-Out-Its-Okay-To-Be-Loved Harrington. It's weird, it is, and Eddie can't help but wonder if Steve is just bottling shit up until it explodes out of him and he realizes that this thing they're doing just isn't worth it anymore.

So.

So Steve does this thing, right?

This thing where he rolls his jaw and sometimes it pops and it makes Eddie want to stick a curly straw up his nose and scramble his own brains. And he's such a fucking neat freak that every time he's over, he ends up rearranging Eddie's room - not even in purpose, just. He likes to touch things, and Eddie gets it, he does, but touching things usually leads to picking things up leads to setting them back down and before Eddie's had time to look up, Steve has swept empty beer cans into the trash and lined up Eddie's models in a neat row like they're troops readying for battle and since he's like a war buff they're always lined up like a little battalion which is cute but also frustrating as hell because - because Eddie's chaos is organized and now he can't find his fucking lyric journal with the song he's very much not ready for people to see, or know about, or -

The point. The point is Eddie has been gearing up to talk to Steve about it for three days now and he's now at the stage where he practices. Works out the scenarios, muddles through possibilities, tries to anticipate every way it could go tits up.

He's never - Steve is most of his firsts, and he knows it's dumb and romantic but he'd like Steve to be all of his lasts, too, and so what if that means he's pacing the length of the trailer (all the while perfecting his Steve-voicr, which has been a tough one to nail but he feels like he's getting there. He's smarter and more eloquent than he lets on, is Steve.) and arguing with himself. Resetting, back to the start, working through a disastrous turn where Steve accuses Eddie of cheating on him (nope, reset, Steve's well aware Eddie wouldn't, cut that from the options).

"And seriously, Eddie, how could you think I'd do that shit to you, you know -."

"What the hell?"

Eddie whirls.

Mike Wheeler is standing in his living room, staring at Eddie like he's grown a second head. Which. Shit. They haven't actually, like, told anyone that they're...doing whatever it is they're doing (There's things Eddie wants to call it, but he hasn't brought them up yet because they're terrifying and super fucking telling and even though he's pretty sure he and Steve are on the same page he doesn't want to presume) so the kids don't know. No one except Robin knows, and she's states away and busy so.

"What the hell right back, Wheeler, what are you doing here?"

"I left my chem textbook here last night. You said I could come get it."

And - sure, he definitely had, but he'd sort of been staring at the hollow where Steve's neck and shoulder met and imagining biting it when he said it, so -

"So you broke into my house?"

"The door was unlocked."

"So you walked uninvited INTO MY HOUSE?" And he's maybe hamming up the annoyance as cover, but Wheeler just stares at him.

"Are you practicing breaking up with Steve?" Wheeler asks without preamble, with zero inflection, not even a quirk of his brow, and Eddie -

Flounders, is a generous term for it. Really what he does is shriek, and cackle, and then cover it up with the weirdest laugh either of them have ever heard which covers nothing at all. "What are - why would you - what makes you think - listen, Michael, you can't just break into people's homes and accuse them of - of - what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Of having really terrible taste in men, Eddie, where's my textbook?"

"I don't fucking know, Wheeler, Steve rearranges shit all the time so who the hell knows where he would have -."

"It's probably on the bookshelf, then," Mike says, and then squints. "Are you...practicing arguing with Steve?"

"How do you even -?"

"Neither one of you is subtle."

"Shut up, Wheeler."

"If that's how you talk to Steve it's no wonder you have to practice your arguments."

"I'm not - you're infuriating."

Mike squares him with a look that reminds Eddie of when he's calculating hit points and strategizing his next move. He frowns. Sighs. "I have like ten minutes before I have to leave. Steve doesn't think you're cheating on him, so let's start from the top."

---

"The kids know," Eddie tells Steve, fingers shifting in Steve's hair, and Steve's lashes flash as he looks up from Eddie's lap. Mike had been - well, Wheeler might be half a decade younger but he'd been pretty instrumental in helping Eddie nail down the right approach to "Please stop cleaning up my messes you're ruining everything." so another non-argument is in the books, and Steve had looked confused about it but he'd agreed to try not to move shit around at least.

("I'm still cleaning up all the trash, though, you live like a goblin."

"It's hot that you know what a goblin is, baby."

"Nerd.")

"Are you...okay with that?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

It's not that he doesn't want to answer, it's just.

Okay he doesn't want to answer. Jesus Christ, he'd used Mike goddamn Wheeler as his Steve stand in to practice an argument that hadn't happened and he's still scared to call Steve his -

"I... don't really know. What to tell them." And that's - shit, not what he meant to say, Jesus.

"What do you mean?"

Steve crinkles his nose, and Eddie hates how goddamn cute it is, because he really wants to just, like, boop the tip of it and then suck Steve off but -

Where's Mike Wheeler when he needs him?

("If you ever tell Steve about this I'll tell Will to TPK your party for the next ten campaigns."

"Why would I tell Steve I'm helping you save your relationship?"

"Brownie points. So you can hold it over Henderson's head. Blackmail."

"I used to be terrified of you, but you're actually super lame, honestly."

"Preaching to the choir, my friend.")

"I mean, what...what do we tell them we...are?"

"Are you freaking out about calling me your boyfriend?"

"...no."

He shifts, and Eddie's fingers slip through the strands of Steve's hair as he shuffles, scoots, sits up and twists to face Eddie.

"I am, right? I mean...you want me to be?"

Eddie hasn't practiced this conversation, because - because it's presumptuous, because it felt sort of like jinxing it, because -

"Yeah. Duh. Of course I - shit. Yeah. Yes."

Steve's smile is bright and a little knowing. "I have a confession."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it."

"Trust me, you want to."

"Okay fine," Eddie tells him, eyes on Steve's hand as he slots their fingers together. Eddie hooks his pinkie along the edge of Steve's sleeve. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

"I'm actually kind of glad they already know. I've been trying to figure out how to tell them for a while. I've been, like - creating scenarios in my head to try to figure out how they're going to take it."

There's - okay, so Eddie's thinking a lot of things, right at this moment, like how Steve apparently also creates mind-scenarios to play out before a situation happens, and how they might want to test out their creativity in other areas, actually, and that derails his whole train of thought for a moment, but "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you been trying to figure out how to tell them?"

Eddie's not insecure, exactly, but he is a big fan of knowing what people he cares about think of him and how often they think of him and -

"I mean, since, like, the first time I kissed you?"

Eddie is stupid crazy about Steve Harrington. He's fully fucking feral for this man, honestly, it's dumb. Absolutely ridiculous.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie tells him, and the tips of Steve's ears are pink.

"I know," he says, with a smarmy little grin because Eddie had admitted (under duress, and screw anyone who doesn't think a naked Steve Harrington in your lap is duress) he'd been obsessed with Harrison Ford for like a full year in his tweens, and Steve takes every opportunity to remind Eddie he knows.

"I'd also very much like to circle back to you creating scripts in your mind about telling the kids about us."

"Henderson's always a nightmare, I swear to god."

"We gotta teach him some humility."

"He respects you more than he respects me, you teach him."

"You gonna say it back?"

"Well not now," Steve says, and Eddie wants to bite him.

---

"I love you," Steve says, while Dustin and Mike and Max argue about who knew first.

Eddie hasn't practiced this one. "I know," he says, and Steve's brow quirks when Dustin catches the exchange and groans.

#steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #mike wheeler jumpscare #but actually he's not all that bad #steddie fic #eddie munson x steve harrington

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Plot Bunny; den mom Black Zero.

“You’re Kon-El’s age?” Wonder Woman says, looking thoughtful. 

“I said that, yes,” Black Zero replies in annoyance. He usually has a higher estimation of Wonder Woman’s intelligence than to need the obvious restated, but it could be worse; could be Superman talking again. 

“Are you intending to repeat your crimes in this reality?” Wonder Woman says. 

“You cannot possibly be stupid enough to think I’d answer that truthfully either way,” Black Zero says, eyeing her dubiously. The corner of her mouth quirks up, just a little. 

“Perhaps,” she says. “But I imagine you’re aware that I do have a method to assure that you would.” 

Black Zero rolls his eyes, then holds out his arm in further annoyance. It’s not as if he needs to lie, much less cares enough to. If he wanted to kill them, he’d be killing them. 

“Thank you,” Wonder Woman says, because of course she’d waste time on that, and then loops her lasso around his wrist. “Your name, please?” 

“Black Zero,” Black Zero says. Wonder Woman hums consideringly. 

“What are your intentions towards this reality, Black Zero?” she says. 

“To explain to your Superboy why he’s an idiot and murder anyone between him and his brother,” Black Zero replies dryly. “Also, I might punch your Superman. He’s pissing me off and I’ve never actually gotten the chance to.” 

“Technically not true,” Superboy says. “One of the Superboys we met was actually a younger alternate of Superman, and you definitely punched him. Like, really hard. And his dog.” 

“Did I?” Black Zero feels pleased. “Good.” 

“You’re such a prick, man,” Superboy says, scowling at him. “The dog!” 

“I hate dogs,” Black Zero replies with a dismissive shrug. 

“So do I, but that is not the point!” Superboy says in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “And we’re not murdering anybody! No murder!” 

“You’re not, maybe,” Black Zero snorts. Wonder Woman watches his face, her own expression still thoughtful. 

“You want to abduct Match from the Agenda,” she says, which is again something he feels he’s made very obvious, but whatever. 

“It’s adorable that you’d describe freeing a legally-enslaved teenager as ‘abduction’,” he says. 

“Arguably, I couldn’t even describe him as a teenager, given he’s . . . how much younger than you, Kon-El?” Wonder Woman asks, glancing towards Superboy.

“Oh, uh–like a year, about?” he says. “I think about a year, anyway, I’m a little fuzzy on some of the dates, after the Wild Lands and–I think about a year, yeah.” 

“So you people left a newborn clone with an organization run by slavers,” Black Zero says. “For a year. That’s about as impressive as I’d expect from a Justice League, yes.” 

“Match has made his feelings on remaining with the Agenda clear more than once,” Superman says, narrowing his eyes at him. Black Zero gives him a dubious look. “We tried to help him. He’s made his choice."

“Yes, physiological teenagers with five minutes’ worth of life experience are notoriously adept at making informed choices with long-term consequences that involve them rejecting everything about and everyone in the only life they’ve ever known,” Black Zero drawls, rolling his eyes. “Silly me. How could I forget.” 

“Your priorities are . . . interesting,” Wonder Woman muses, still watching him thoughtfully. He doesn’t know what she thinks she’s looking for. 

“They're correct, is what they are,” he says. “No one else gives a fuck about our kind.” 

“Clones, you mean?” Wonder Woman says. 

“You keep asking me incredibly obvious questions,” Black Zero says. Who else would he mean? 

It's been made very clear to him that no one else is going to look out for any of them except each other.

#plot bunny #wip: den mom black zero

[pedgito]

Hiii!!! You are so talented I love the way you write, I seriously could read your fics for days. Was hoping I could request something with Eddie where like him and reader have been friends for a long time but recently there’s all this ~tension~ and then the reader catches Eddie touching himself and he thinks he’s alone so he’s moaning her name and all bets are off 🫣🫣 (this is pure filth I’m sorry)

author’s note: i'm sorry to whoever sent this that it took so long, but i finally had the surge of motivation to write it and hope it isn't too bad, so enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), accidental voyeurism turned non-accidental, masturbation (male), leaded orgasm/orgasm denial, established friendship, they're both so sexually frustrated with each other, this also take place is the woods so it's technically open to the public? but no one's around, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

Eddie’s fist hits the table in frustration, chipped wood flying up in protest, the dilapidated picnic table near its last leg on this earth—it was a wonder it could still hold that weight of someone without stalling in half. Eddie sighs heavily, climbing up the seat to plop himself on top, hands moving to rest behind him, helping him stay upright but reclined enough to allow him to relax. 

He couldn’t fucking stand it anymore; the sight of you. 

It seemed arbitrary and petty, but it was becoming a problem. You’d found just about every possible way to get under his skin, pressing all the right buttons to set him off. It hadn’t always been that way either, only recently—one long night at Hellfire, a heated argument that had nothing to do with the actual game and ended up cutting the campaign short. Eddie bid everyone a clipped and dismissive wave that night, shooing them off in annoyance. 

You’ve always been friends, that hadn’t changed, but it didn’t take long for him to notice the small changes; switching up your outfits for something a little more risque, openly flirting with others in front of him—which shouldn’t bother him, but it definitely does. He hates when you ask him for advice, not that he would be much help, but because he doesn’t want to give you semblance of an idea that you should go off and wrap yourself up with someone—not with how desperately he wanted to be with you—he wasn’t sure he’d ever find the courage to tell you that, though. 

Anyways, the night before was what finally set him off—tired of your antics and comments, the subtle, teasing touches you’d leave against his skin in passing—normally you’d sit across from him, several feet away, but you switched with Dustin that night, perched right beside him.

Eddie sat back in his felt throne, fingers talking against the arm of the chair. You knock his foot gently, sending him a warm smile, eyes creasing at the corners. The one he returns is forced, bubbling with annoyance. He was a fuse set to blow and he surely did.

To you, it didn’t make sense. Eddie spent so much time on his music, Hellfire, and everything else that seemed more interesting than you—and sure, it was; but your friendship felt like it had been shifted to the back burner lately. 

It’s part of the reason why you started to branch out, knowing that your advances would never be noticed—Eddie too wrapped up in his own problems that it seemed pointless; he had a lot to deal with and you were the last thing on his mind, or so you thought. 

You both were running in circles when all you needed to do was talk—you were two incredibly stubborn individuals.

He thinks about lighting up the joint tucked behind his ear, wondering if it will ease the anxiety he felt, it still didn’t feel like enough. His legs widen slightly, feet planted on the bench of the table. He half hesitates on the idea of rubbing one out, knowing that it could satiate the running thoughts in his brain if he just tried; allow the cloudy haze of pleasure to wash over him.

Fuck it—no one ever comes out here, anyways. It wasn’t the first time and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

He palms himself over the front of his jeans lightly, soft dick hardening at the touch, almost to full mast after a few long drags of his open hand, head hanging back slightly as he breathed out. 

All he had to do was picture you and he was done for. You were the only thing he pictured anymore, the cheesy porno mags never enough anymore—not after he got caught in your trap, stuck on the idea of you. 

He always pictured you underneath him, sometimes bound by your hands, cuffs pulled tight to keep you from moving, moans loud and desperate as he pounded into you, almost relentless—but sometimes it was slow, and he wondered how you hands would feel wondering his body, allowing you to discover new things about him that you were previously oblivious to; how he liked to be touch or what kinds of noises he made when your hand came to wrap around his dick.

It was all a sick fantasy.

˚ · • . ° .

You didn’t normally come out to Eddie’s spot that often, knowing how he liked to keep the secrecy to his customers and leave prying eyes out of the equation—he didn’t need to end up in prison before graduating. Wayne would surely murder him. 

But, you felt guilty, wanting the pointless arguing and fights to be done—you just wanted your friend back, knowing that was all he’d ever be. You could settle for that, having Eddie in any sense was all that mattered to you.

The wet leaves are like mush underneath your steps, forming around and sticking to your shoes—you figure it’s smarter to be quiet than loud, knowing that there were still students a half a mile away, sure to hear the scream that Eddie would let out if you ran up on him—when you’re finally through the thick brush of trees and stray branches, you spot him.

He’s relaxed, back to you, probably fiddling with the zipper of his denim jacket or twisting at the frayed lace of his shoe—Eddie enjoyed being alone, as much as he surrounded himself with friends at school. 

You hear a small noise, wondering if he’s talking to himself—your steps are timid, almost questioning your own movements as you grow closer. His head falls back, a mess of curls dangling, begging to be tugged at. 

And then he moans—steady and unashamed, but then you hear your name, and that definitely isn’t a trick. You heard it, you saw the way his lips curled around the word. He shifts further and you can see the way he’s tugging at himself, bare dick in his hands, caught in small wordless gasp as his thumb swipes against the underside of his cock, dragging slowly over the tip. 

You gasp involuntarily, hand clasping over your mouth in shock. Eddie scrambled at the noise, fear of being caught finally coming true, his heart palpated in panic, the tinge of pain evident as he turned to look behind him, dark eyes falling on you.

Of course—out of everyone, it had to be you. 

“Fuck—“ He sounds wrecked, it should turn you on as much as it does, legs clenching together slightly, “what the hell are you doing out here?”

His words come out like venom, clenched teeth and tense jaw. He was still upset, clearly. This was a mistake. You stutter for a response, still trying to process what was happening.

Eddie hadn’t even made much of an attempt to move, hand barely covering himself, not a single try at making himself decent—he’s just staring, waiting for an answer.

“I—I came to apologize,” You offer weakly, “But, I mean—clearly you aren’t mad anymore—“

He’d said your name, you think. You weren’t hallucinating.

“So, what, you like sneaking up on people now?”

Your brows furrow in annoyance, “What? No. You’re the one jerking off in the middle of the fucking woods—you want to talk about that?”

Eddie pulls back at your words, watching you as you take several steps near him, far too close for comfort, not with his dick still heavy in his hands.

“Needed to let off some steam,” He offers weakly, trying to seem dismissive, “how much did you see?”

All of it.

“Enough,” You tell him, eyes glancing toward where his hands covered himself, wondering why you were the name that left his mouth as he felt himself up, the boldness overtakes you, the chance to tease him even further was too good of an opportunity to pass up, “you do that often?”

“What?”

“Think about me?” You laugh softly at the idea, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate it.

It wasn’t a joke to him.

“You askin’ me to be honest with you?”

You nod confidently, arms crossed over your chest. 

“All the time.” He admits—and it feels good to admit that, tired of forcing it down all the time.

You don’t know what to say, eyes caught between his heated gaze and the hands covering his noticeable hard dick, still having not let up—if anything, it was worse.

“Well—are you just gonna keep standing there?” Eddie asks with an amused look, the edge of his mouth pulling upwards in a smirk. “Or, do you wanna help?”

“What?”

“That’s why you’re still standing there, isn’t it?”

And it was a good fucking question—but, you knew exactly why. As shameful as it felt, you wanted him to continue; you wanted to watch him fall apart to the idea of you, your name falling from his lips one more time. 

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie chides, taking note of the way your eyes connect with his, a silent confirmation that you wanted this just as badly as he did, “come here.”

He nods to the area next time and your feet move faster than you can process, nearly scrambling to his side. 

“You just wanna watch?” He asks softly, “Or?”

Touch me—he can’t bring himself to say the words, afraid that he might be dreaming this. 

“Can I?” You ask timidly, hand coming up to rest against his inner thigh, his hands rubbing against his stiff erection.

He nods furiously, moving his own hands to allow yours to take over—he’s warm and heavy in your hands, your fingers wrapping around the width of him and pulling a few times.

You’ve only done this a few times, still, it felt odd. You weren’t sure what he liked or what he wanted, he wasn’t very vocal—at the moment, at least. 

“Like this,” He instructs, realizing your hesitation. His large hand wraps around your own, setting a steady, tight pace against his cock, tugging at the length of his dick in earnest. He sighs outwardly, head falling back once again. His chest heaves, neck reddening in a deep blush, “fuck—yeah, that’s it.”

Selfishly, you really wanted to just watch—watch him fall apart by his own doing, like he originally planned to. He notices the perplexed look on your face, so mesmerized by his hand working against your own, joints flexing underneath the skin. 

“What’s wrong?” He forced out, eyes half lidded as he looked over at you. “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head honestly, letting the words fall from your lips quietly, “I—I do wanna watch you.”

“Like, you wanna watch me jerk off?” The absurdity of the question has him chuckling into his fist, allowing you to pull your own hand away. “Really?”

He wasn’t judging—definitely not. He was the last person on earth to ever think about doing that. 

“Yeah,” You say timidly, “Just…act like I'm not here, you know?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, sweetheart.” He says endearingly, hands returning to his own dick instinctively, begging to ease that ache. “But, I’ll try.” 

You watch eagerly, enraptured at how easily he falls back into a rhythm, licking at the palm of his hand to allow for an easy glide of his hand, the friction almost overwhelming as he continues his movements, eyes falling shut.

“Fuck—“ He curses, a small grunt slipping out in weakness, eyes squeezing shut as he squeezes harder, tugging himself at a quick, hurried pace—allowing himself to reach the edge, nearly, before squeezing the base of himself, cutting the feeling short, “—sorry, this is kinda new to me.”

“What?”

“Being watched,” He points out, eyes opening to connect with yours. It has his dick twitching in his hands, sending a pulse straight to your cunt, “it’s not bad, though.”

If you weren't so ashamed for watching, you’d join him—but, this was for him; a punishment, even, for being so difficult with you all the time. 

“Wanna try something?” Eddie asks curiously, voice strained. 

You nod nervously, wondering where his wild brain was attempting to take this.

“Tell me when to stop and I will, it doesn't matter if I’m about to come or not.” He instructs, “I’ll listen to you.”

“Oh—okay,” You answered hesitantly, watching as he continued at a slow place, listening for your voice, “sped up—a little.”

He laughs softly, the swift tugs at his dick as he squeezes gently at the head forcing desperate noises to fall from his mouth, something you thought you’d never have the chance to hear.

It’s glorious. 

After a while, you perk up, “Faster,” You say quietly, and he obeys immediately, working himself over quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, shirt rising up to show the soft, smooth expanse of his lower stomach and the soft patch of hair that led to his groin—you want to reach out and touch him, it’s almost instinctual. Eddie whines on a particular flick of his wrist, mouth open in a deep groan as he almost allows himself that release, only for you to stop him dead in his tracks again, “Stop.” Your voice is steady, surprising both of you.

Eddie laughs in anguish, “I knew you’d be into this,” He teases, his hooded gaze catching your own, “dunno how much longer I can listen, though—really wanna come, sweetheart.”

You reach forward to squeeze gently at his arm, indulging in the earlier thought of wanting to touch him—there was no time like now, letting your hand slide over the expanse of his stomach, feeling the muscle flex against your hand. He watched carefully, eyes stuck on the movement of your hand.

It’s your touch that sets him off, the soft lilt of your voice as you whisper into his ear, “Then come.” You tell him.

And he does, too quickly, tugging at his dick until he’s spilling over his hand and against his stomach, and in turn, your own hand, as you couldn’t be bothered to move—too mesmerized by his face as he reaches his release. His teeth grit together, eyes struggling to stay open as his orgasm hits him hard and intense, worse than he’s ever felt before. He moans out, nearly convulsing at the peak of it all, panting deeply on the descent back down, laughing exasperatingly. 

“Jesus Christ,” He sighs tiredly, motioning to the handkerchief in his back pocket, “you mind?”

You laugh quietly, pulling at the small square of material stuffed in his back pocket to hand over, letting him carefully clean up the mess that covered your fingers—a little too lovingly, lingering on the casual touches of his fingers dragging against your own—you weren’t sure why that was what felt the most intimate out of all this. 

“So, are you still mad at me?” He asks curiously, knowing the perfect remedy to breaking the tension. “Because if you are, this is pretty awkward.”

“Depends.” You respond teasingly.

“On?”

“If we get to do that again.”

Eddie smiles wide, allowing himself to look somewhat presentable again, tugging at his zipper as he buttoned his pants back up. “You free this weekend then?”

You nod furiously.

“Good,” His smile turns devilish, like he’s on to something, “You're next.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

[0pheleschimera0]

i don't really get simpatico but i would love to understand it more bc its such a big part of transformers now. if you're willing, you can do that big post on simpatico here?? if you wanna??? i'd really appreciate the help 🥺👉👈

The thing with Simpatico is that i didn't exactly Get it at first too, most of my exposure was through fan content and reading the thing i was just Yeah it Makes Sense people ship this, but then it kind of bestowed on me more how these two people are just two parts fitting together perfectly in a way they wouldn't with others, and it's not even inherently Romantic to me, even if i see them as very much in love and conjunxed post MTMTE/LL story.

Their relationship is quite silly in the context at first. Brainstorm's profile calls him a conflicted Perceptor fanboy. The only thing we get, up to this point, is his Annoyance with how his genius is overshadowed by Perceptor. While Perceptor doesn't seem to give him his time of day at all, more concerned with his work and what Rodimus wants from him than what Brainstorm is up to.

It's honestly just my personal interpretation of either characters, but Perceptor is finally allowed to fullly get back to science again, he's not expected to be holding his sniper rifle (even though he was never expected to! He had himself believe that holding a weapon will make him of more value!), while Brainstorm is there with his own super secret super important agenda.

Brainstorm is, apparently, an MTO, while we don't know what for, but MTOs have a very sad track record and usually have a lot of baggage as they're usually "born" and then kicked into the heat of battle, barely having any chance to learn who they are, just what they're for. Yet Brainstorm has never killed anyone - and despite that, he's still LIED about being an MTO.

Here they're talking about the concept of Constructed Cold, but there were TWO waves of them - pre-war and post-war. What Brainstorm is talking about he was not even born to witness yet.

They're both people who, one way or the other, "defying" what they are. It's a common theme with tf ships for me, but in case with this, it's Perceptor believing that he has to be more, and at the point of MTMTE, perhaps, not feeling entirely whole, and Brainstorm WANTING to be someone He actually Wants to Be.

Brainstorm feels threatened when his intellect is belittled by people calling Perceptor the genius. Brainstorm is quite egotistical and selfish, but it all ends up being just a facade, just as much Perceptor's cold and perfect exterior he cultivated throughout years during the war, of someone he thought his side needed.

Up until Brainstorm's time travel shenanigans, we saw them interacting sometimes, and a lot of the time, it was Brainstorm trying to impress Perceptor somehow, or just being himself that draws attention of Percy nevertheless.

And then we see Percy smiling the most he's ever smiled throughout the comic, calling Brainstorm a genius himself, impressed by the intricate work of Brainstorm.

Perceptor gets up to clap for Brainstorm at his trial, and i think it's the moment that sold Perceptor for his respect to Brainstorm. Everything he ever knew about Brainstorm - the careless egotistical and cowardly scientist - turned out to be nothing but means to an end, making way to a dedicated, caring, kind and brilliant person into his mind.

I think their finale just says it all regarding these two, honestly.

"I always wanted recognition for what I am."

"Me too."

Brainstorm spent his life on science and to be recognized. He didn't hide the fact he's an MTO just because. He wants to be seen for his achievements. Perceptor's war trauma had him feel useless to his comrades, who's "purpose", who's Genius, was ultimately the thing people saw in him, brushing off his personal achievements, maybe even the fact he could be more, his person, the way he feels Brainstorm could understand, too.

They're simpatico for a reason, and its just one of them, but pretty crucial and at the very core of why they're so compatible.

While i understand simply thinking of them as "science duo" they're so so much more than that.

#deadlysoupy #ko tf posting #I'd get more into each of them individually but i spent almost three hours skimming through the comic for pages #the whole thing with brainstorm and thr reasons of his time travel #then perceptor being among the mutineers #perceptor with the wreckers #its all worth talking about. but not tonight #so i focused on their interactions here first and foremost