#I wanna do something else I hate this I can't live like this

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

What's to note about Sweden in Eurovision is that, for a lot of people when they're picking out songs to send, they don't care what Europe actually wants - they think about the song that has the highest chance to WIN.

And thus, we've reached a dilemma.

The most TRENDING melfest song right now, is this one

It has everything Eurovision WANTS us to send.

It's in swedish! We haven't send anything in Swedish for over 2,5 decades! And when we HAVE, the artists have chosen to sing in english once they reach eurovision even if they sang it in swedish in melfest

It's catchy! Easy to dance to!

Good time!

It's the top 1 trending song in Sweden AND in Finland

It shows a culture not too often represented: Finno-swedes! Sometimes people IN SWEDEN are not aware there is indeed swedish speaking finns, just like there is for example french speaking canadians. And they have their own dialects, phrases and culture.

YKSI KAKSI KOLME SAUNA

However?

It will not win Eurovision (probably)

Some snobby elitist melfest fans (SORRY TO YOU GUYS BUT YOU ARE) thinks if we send something like this we will "embarrass ourselves". And we can't do that! We need to "show the world that Sweden is the biggest music export by getting good scores all the time!" (to which I say yes?? but we can also show some DIVERSITY in our songs???)

And there is the song that people think would most likely WIN the whole esc if we send it:

It's Måns Zelmerlöw, so we know he's good at what he's doing!

The performance is nicely done!

However:

Is the song that good??? Do you remember the song, like, at all? No, you get fooled by the STAGE PERFORMANCE. And sure, it does elevate the song, but not so much that I personally would want to vote for it.

Does my fellow Swedes honestly to god not know that esc people are tired of Måns Zelmerlöw? He kept showing up year after year in esc somehow, either as a middle act or as a sketch or something. He was always there.

If he wins melfest I'm honestly gonna be scared every time time he gets a good score in esc. I don't wanna live through that again. People say "don't care about the haters just enjoy your country winning" and I'm sorry but I CAN'T enjoy it if I know everyone else is mad - I also can't enjoy it when I know I didn't even vote for them to represent us. THAT to me is more embarrassing than sending a more "fun" entry that might not get as high of a jury score.

Personal opinion: I already think there's better songs in esc I think should win

Personal opinion: I do not agree that Måns' entry is better than anyone else this year. There are better songs in MELFEST already that I will vote for in the finale. Not only KAJ, but several others too.

Personal opinion: I'm not a fan of Måns' song and I don't get fooled by the "cool effects". It worked with Heroes, because he did something new with that little animated blob. It doesn't really work here for me. At all.

I do not want to experience 2023 again. Now 2 years later I feel like... fine. Loreen is Loreen. She's an icon nonetheless. MÅNS... is not her. He's more like Charlotte Perelli, Alexander Rybak or Carola: Appreciated as artists, but it definitely did not go as well for them when they came back to esc after already winning once. And I HOPE this is the fate Måns also would face.

Personal opinion: I think Sweden should chill with winning :) That was NOT a popular opinion when I said so on instagram, another Swede told me that I needed to understand that this was a COMPETITION and that we need to strive for the BEST all the time.

My thoughts on this is NOT so much that I've "fallen for the haters who hate Sweden and its success". It's the fact that during the last ten years, I've only liked TWO melfest winners. The rest I did not want to win, and thus I AGREE with Europe when they think we send generic pop songs, and I don't like them being rewarded because I didn't like them in the first place. And I want my country to send something different and FUN for ONCE, but we DON'T. The closest we got was Cornelia Jakobs in 2022. She was a LITTLE different, and I genuinely liked that. And I mean... Loreen IS Loreen, even though I did feel already in melfest that it was a little unfair because I did like some other songs more.

And so now, we have two teams here in Sweden: Those who think Måns absolutely is the only choice, nothing else will do, and we will win esc with him again. Best produced song, nothing else can top it. These people can sometimes come off as snobby and even sometimes a bit elitist in some extreme cases, even though a lot of them only are normal people who had been driven into this mindset.

And the other team is more like me: We should send something like KAJ! Or another little "different" that's already in our finale! Because we AGREE that we for once should see what EUROVISION wants rather than what the JURIES wants. No one likes the juries anyway. They didn't let Yohio win melfest in 2013 guys. Come on. It was their fault we didn't send a visual kei guy to eurovision and instead sent boring Robin Stjernberg.

Even NEWS SITES and podcasts has started discussing this. How the Swede is so predictable and rather wants to send the "safe card" than trying something new.

It's 2 weeks left until we have a finale. And I personally would not send Måns. But the songs I often want to win never win. And I think we keep sending generic pop songs because IT WORKS. It's not so fun for for the esc fans, but it works competition wise. And Swedes have sadly taken this competition too seriously, and forgotten to have fun. And maybe I am a part of that, since I seem to care so much about this I'm being so negative.

But, I will say: In 2023, the whole country was pretty much in agreement that Loreen will win melfest, the end. This year... I feel like we're more divided about this. And I think a bigger part of us will be disappointed to see Måns win melfest, both due to how we know Europe will react, but also because we genuinely don't think this song is that good. And it's a SONG contest at the end of the day, even though some argue "Well! But it's nicely produced!!!! Isn't the staging cool???" Yeah. But the song is the one you're gonna listen to, and... the song I think most people would rather LISTEN to is Bara Bada Bastu. But many people also think "they won't win anyway", and that can sadly also stop some people from even voting. "Why vote, when they won't win anyway? I don't want Måns to win but he's probably gonna win anyway, whatever :/" Not if we try to vote for others!!!

I myself in the finale will vote for Klara Hammarström, Greczula, KAJ, and if Scarlet comes to the finale this time, which I think they will, I will vote for them too. I think I'm even gonna give some few votes to Maja Ivarsson and Annika Wikihalder. There's PLENTY of other people in the finale I'd be perfectly fine and not too disappointed with if they won - especially if they NEVER HAVE WON BEFORE.

I won't vote for Måns. Both because, he's probably gonna get votes anyway, he doesn't need mine :/ And also because I just... don't like the song. Everyone can have a good scene performance with cool effects, smoke, blah blah... but that can't ONLY be it. I've seen that so many times and I'm not fooled by it.

If Måns wins melfest, it's up to Europe what to do. We can't vote for our own country in esc. So it's just up to you then to vote, or NOT vote. Remember the semifinals are all televote. You can choose to feed our ego again so that we keep sending the same thing again because it works, or you can decide not to.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I think that at this point I'm sending you daily asks but umm

I did a blood test today and it's like facing my worst fears and I was crying, breathing rapidly and my anxiety spiked up

How would AGSZC & Aerti would handle it if they've been the companion?

Sephiroth: You don't want him as your companion. He is the living embodiment of anxiety and pessimism around needles (gee I wonder why). Stiff as a board the entire time, arms crossed, watching the nurse like she's about to pull a scalpel out next. When you start panicking, he just nods grimly. "Understandable. This is merely the beginning." Allows you to hold his hand for comfort, but if you cry, he doesn't tell you to stop—he just looks at the nurse and goes: "What else are you taking? Teeth? Hair? Skin?" like he fully expects them to start draining you dry. When it's over, he places a hand on your shoulder and says "If they call you back, resist." Then he buys you an entire meal, like he's trying to replenish your strength for the next inevitable betrayal.

Angeal: Stares at you like a proud father watching their kid finish a whole plate of vegetables. Holds your hand, brushes your hair back and tells you how good you're doing. When you start panicking, he just places his massive hand on your shoulder like a weighted blanket and goes "Breathe." If you crush his hand in terror, he doesn't even flinch, man's built like a brick wall. When it's over, he nods approvingly and says "You lived." Then buys you a protein shake, because apparently, that's comforting.

Genesis: Acts like this is a tragedy happening before his very eyes. When you start tearing up, he clutches his chest like he's the one suffering. "Such injustice," he sighs, dramatically wiping away a stray tear from his face. If you squeeze his hand too hard, he makes a displeased sound before yanking it away and flapping it, offended. Absolutely refuses to let you look at the needle. He holds your face between his hands like you're in a dramatic romance scene. Buys you something completely unnecessary afterward, like silk gloves or a first edition book, and claims "No warrior should endure such trials unrewarded."

Zack: 100% on board with your nonsense. If you start panicking, he panics with you. If you cry, he cries. If you dramatically clutch at your chest like you're perishing, he grabs you by the shoulders and goes, "STAY WITH ME, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE." The nurses hate both of you. He absolutely encourages bad behavior. "If you wanna kick your legs and scream, do it. They can't stop you." Afterward, he high-fives you like you survived a war and takes you to get ice cream. "You earned it, champ."

Cloud: Stressed for you. He looks physically pained watching you suffer. White-knuckles his own knee while you hold onto him like a lifeline. "It's almost over" he mutters like he's trying to reassure both of you. If you cry, he stiffens like he's buffering, then awkwardly pats your head. When it's finally done, he releases a breath like he just survived a boss fight. Silently buys you snacks afterward, like a shell-shocked soldier paying tribute to a fallen comrade.

Tifa & Aerith: Tifa is handling the situation like a seasoned nurse, and she's sweet about it: "It's okay, you'll be fine! Just breathe!" Meanwhile Aerith is just enabling your nonsense. "If you wanna bite the nurse, I'll look the other way." Tifa glares. Aerith grins. When you start panicking, Tifa firmly holds your hand, and Aerith casually suggests "What if we just ran?" Tifa is now holding onto both of you. If you start crying, Aerith wipes your tears and calls you brave, while Tifa sighs and tells you there's nothing to be scared of. The nurse leaves the three of you alone with some vials of your blood. Aerith poses the "hypothetical" question of what would happen if they took one of the vials as a souvenir. Tifa has to physically restrain her.

[imwritesometimes]

my brother has been gone for a week and he's already like I am quitting this job I hate this and I'm like 🙃

[girlivealwaysbean]

man i love living in my own home

[hvnlygrl]

rafe Cameron has started blowing off gf!reader to hangout with his friends like cancelling plans last minute, leaving in the middle of a date, and just ignoring/neglecting her when all she wants is to just spend time with him. And it makes her so sad and insecure and she finally confronts him when he tries to leave their plans and she says "if you don't want me anymore please just say it and stop stringing me along" and just breaks down and he feels terrible, she's the love of his life and he didn't realize what he had been doing and makes it up to her with cuddles gifts breakfast in bed and maybeee some smut

strung along the line.

pairing — rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count — 1.2k

warnings — lotta hurt lotta comfort, near-break up, make-up, fluff

synopsis — after rafe stops putting in enough effort into your relationship, you confront him about stringing you along.

notes — ugh my heart. why are boys so stupid sometimes.

the first time it happened, it stung a little, but you were sure it wasn’t on purpose. rafe didn’t show up to the date, leaving you to sit in the parking lot of the restaurant, tears streaming down your cheeks. it was more disappointment than anything else, but rafe chalked it up to getting caught up with topper and kelce at the paintball place, the date completely slipping his mind. 

you left it at that, opting to give him another chance. he missed that one too, his excuse being something to do with ward and some kook bullshit you didn’t understand. the last time, however, was different. 

the two of you were in the middle of dinner at your apartment. you’d made a home-cooked meal you found a recipe for online, and the two of you sat at the couch, about an hour into a movie you’d been begging him to watch for weeks. he was there, but mentally he was somewhere else. 

it felt like every minute on the minute he was checking his phone or texting someone. as the movie progressed, you became more and more fed up. then you watched him send a text and then look at you, face screaming i hate to do this, but. 

“you’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words only amplify your anger. 

“yeah, the boys wanna go try out topper’s new wave-runners, can we take a raincheck?” it’s almost as if he has no idea how much this hurts. or maybe he just doesn’t care. 

you scoff, shaking your head as you stand from the couch. you pick the plates up from the table and walk into the kitchen without saying a word. you rinse the dishes and place them into the dishwasher, dropping a pod into it and hitting the start button. 

“babe? is it cool if i dip? they’re blowing up my phone right now,” he reiterates from the couch, brows raised expectantly. 

“whatever, rafe,” you shrug emotionlessly as you make your way back to the living room. you curl into yourself on the opposite side of the couch, wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets as you back out of the movie and put on the show you’d been binging recently. 

“you mad at me?” he asks, confused. 

you let out a wry laugh at that, cutting a glare at him. “what do you think, rafe?” 

“i don’t get why you’re mad, though?” 

“i’m not mad, rafe,” you look at him, eyes watering, “if you don’t wanna be here anymore i’m not gonna hold you hostage.” 

“what?” he cocks his head back at that, “what are you talking about?” 

“dude,” you scoff, “it just feels like you want nothing to do with me anymore. like every time we have a date or try to hang out you either leave early or just don’t show up and i just-” you can't help the way your voice cracks, “i just can’t keep waiting around for you all the time, rafe. this is killing me, so if you don’t wanna do this anymore just tell me now, okay? stop stringing me along, please.” 

rafe’s face falls with realization, his heart clenching at the look on your face alone. “oh shit, babe,” he starts, expression riddled with regret and agony. “fuck, i’m so sorry, i-i’ve been such a terrible boyfriend lately. it’s not you, i promise you that, i don’t know why i haven’t been putting in enough effort, i just have been so carried away with kelce and topper that i haven’t even noticed what i’ve been doing to you. i’m so sorry, baby. i do wanna be here, more than anything, i want to be with you more than anything.” 

his words send you spiralling a bit, tears flowing more freely now. you sob softly, hands flying up to cover your face. “i just don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“i know, baby,” he can't help the way his own voice cracks this time, “i never meant for it to be this way, please, please just give me one more chance. let me make it up to you, okay? i promise i’ll be a better boyfriend.”

“i wanna believe you, rafe, i really do,” you sniffle, shoulders falling in exhaustion, “but i just don’t think I can anymore.” 

rafe drags his hands over his head anxiously, “c’mon, baby, please. i swear to god, if i fuck up again you never have to see or talk to me again, okay? just let me prove it to you?”

you gnaw at the inside of your cheek for a bit, eyes locked on his bright blue irises. “fine. but don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“i swear i won’t,” he holds his pinky out to yours, waiting for you to link your own pinky with his. once you do, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your soft skin. 

he texts topper and kelce, telling them to fuck off since he’s at dinner with his girl, and puts his phone on do not disturb. he cuddles into you on the couch, pulling your head onto his chest while his ringed hand rubs soft shapes onto your back. “i love you,” he hums into your scalp before pressing a kiss onto the hair.

“i love you, rafe,” you mutter back, heart panging at his words but aching to believe that it’s true. “more than anything.” 

“more than everything,” rafe retorts before pulling you tighter into his chest, nearly suffocating you in a hug. “i really am sorry.” 

you nod against his chest, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. you desperately blink them away, hand gripping his t-shirt tightly as you control your breathing. 

you aren’t entirely sure when you fell asleep, or when rafe moved you to your bed. you woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and maple syrup. you pulled the charger from your phone and checked the time, a glaring 7:45 shining back at you. 

you scrolled on your phone for a few minutes before rafe made his way to the room with a tray of fruit, tiny pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs, just like you liked them. he even went to the store to get you more of your favorite breakfast drink; cranberry juice. 

“bon appetit,” he grinned at you as he placed the tray in your lap. 

“oh my god, rafe, when did you have time to do all this?” you look at him tenderly, heart fluttering at the time and energy he put into your meal. 

“i couldn’t sleep so I went to the store and got some stuff for breakfast,” he shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “it’s no biggie, plus I know you don’t eat unless someone feeds you most of the time.” 

“that’s an exaggeration,” you huff, “i'm just not hungry most of the time.” 

“yea, well, you still gotta eat, babe,” he shrugs again as he scooches in next to you. “how is it?”

“it looks amazing,” you can practically hear your stomach growling at you just from the smell of the food, much less the sight. after taking a bite of everything on your plate, you look at him, nodding in approval, “it’s delicious.” 

“good,” rafe smiles at you, “i’m glad.” 

once you finish the meal, rafe takes your dishes from you and spends a few minutes in the kitchen as he cleans his mess. once he comes back, he gets comfortable next to you, this time letting you lay your head on his lap as he turns your favorite show on. 

“thank you, rafey,” you hum happily. 

“of course, baby,” he gives your bicep a tender squeeze, “anything for my girl.” 

-> back to masterlist.

rafe cameron taglist -> @lanasb0ngwater @wintersoldierenthusiastt

[cyberrose2001]

I hate TF One sentinel so much.

I fucking hate him.

I hate him so much I wanna see this mech a whimpering teary mess underneath me after overloading more than he can take.

I want him overstimulated and trembling. venting hard as he is forced to cum again. Tied down and obedient to no one else but me. Him on his knees begging for release.

I hate him so much I wanna see him pathetic and whipped for pussy or spike. Hell make him whipped for both. Go wild.

TF:One Sentinel Prime x Human Reader

okay so i had a couple ideas but this is the one i went with. essentially sentinel using you to make his dick look bigger so he can stroke his ego, but keeps it a secret. to which you find pathetic and of great value (aka to keep living it up rich giant alien robot style)

also go easy on me!! slowly learning how to write for the universe (as alot of people probably are)

Warnings: TF:ONE SPOILERS, Cybertronian/Human, Dom/Sub Elements, Humiliation/Degradation, Bondage, Face Sitting/Cunnilingus, Cream Pies, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation

Word Count: 1707

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

For a species that's so highly advanced compared to your own, you'd think there would be far more disunities. After all, this planet wasn't made for you. But despite this Olympic-sized hurdle, most of the Cybertronians seemed curious about you. A little human, freshly birthed compared to the universe's timeline itself, bought to Cybertron by their ventures.

It's taken a lot to get used to. But the primal urge associated with human nature seems omnipresent, as you have learned.

Sentinel Prime. The lord and master of Cybertron had his curiosity peaked. He initially took you in as a novelty, a mere collector's item to show off as a display of acceptingness between Cybertronians and Humans—a symbiotic relationship between two species.

At least, that's what he tells them. Yet another lie for him to cover up for the masses.

"You're such a fucking sellout, Sentinel."

A liar he may be, but his trembling form and the whines of your name speak truthfully. And with all the queries of your purpose on this planet, one thing is sure.

Sentinel Prime can't get enough of human nature.

And you're determined to squeeze every last drop of that precious information.

In the lavish and very private penthouse of his tower overlooking Iacon City, Sentinel Prime kneels before you on the berth. Though at eye level, the balance of power remains clear. Ropes of golden silk tie his arms behind his back, connecting to the ones adorning his thighs, keeping them embarrassingly wide open. He can't count how often he's been in this position before, but he learns something new about your little fleshy body each time.

"Yeah, I know." Sentinel wriggles against the ropes despite having no intention of escaping from them, "B-But I have an image to upkeep, you know that."

"Oh, an image! I see," Gripping the kibble on his chin, you pull him closer, to which he flinches, "Because the only image I see is you popping a boner over a little fleshy like me. Now, wouldn't that cause a stir, hm?"

Sentinel grits his dentae, his faceplates heating up at the proximity. He says nothing, knowing that he could dig himself a deeper hole. But he's already too deep, so much so that he could be tried in court for inappropriate relations with organic species. Or worse, he could have the title of 'Prime' stripped away from him.

But he can't deny it. He's so turned on by your soft skin pressing against him that it almost makes him sob, spike standing erect right in front of you. Deliciously throbbing and angry, ripe for your taking.

"On your back, I mean it." You push against his chassis, and he flops backward, grunting as the winds knocked out of him. Your little form climbs atop him, but you don't stop at his spike. You keep climbing until you're standing on his chassis.

"Wh- What are you doing?" Sentinel questions, his voice strained. He watches as you straddle his face and push your cunt against his intake, a pleasant surprise to Sentinel.

"I'm gonna put that lying tongue of yours to good use," You moan, wiggling your hips against his glossa, "Ever tasted human pussy before? Because it's about time you did."

Sentinel grunts as you grind your hips against his face. Though tiny, you're still enough to take his breath away. The sweet, earthly, deliciously human scent fills his olfactory sensors, and he dives in with the first lap at your folds. It's new to him, soft and plush against his glossa. He doesn't even need a second taste to confirm that he's already addicted.

A soft gasp leaves you as Sentinel essentially makes out with your pussy, moving from opened-mouthed kisses to flicks at your clit. You sit down further on him, causing his glossa to push into you forcefully. The ridges massage along your walls and make you see stars, filling you perfectly, making it hard to believe you had no trouble taking his spike. But you won't tell him that. It's far too much fun to humiliate him and make him putty between your thighs instead.

"Is that the best you can do, Sentinel?"

The Prime whines into your flesh as his glossa works double time, "Pfflease..." He takes a breath before he laps at your clit again, rubbing and grinding with the help of your hips.

"What was that? I can't hear you." Your dominant side gets the better of you, and you deviously shift your hips up, hovering just shy above his saturated dermas, "Say it again."

"Please- I can't- I need you to fuck me-" Sentinel whimpers, wincing as his spike painfully throbs. It's all getting too much for poor Sentinel, "I need your valve-" He cranes his neck in a poor attempt to lick at you once again but whines when you pull away from him entirely.

"I can't believe you, Sentinel. You can hardly wait five minutes? How disappointing." You lean closer, "But I won't say no. I hope your spike can perform better than that tongue of yours."

You slide back down his frame, smiling at Sentinel's soft, frustrative growls. You straddle him again, his spike standing tall between your thighs. It only reaches past your navel, and a thought occurs as you gaze upon the pretty biolights.

He must have the smallest one on Cybertron; no wonder his ego's so big.

And no wonder he prefers to fuck a human and keep it a secret.

"You're so hard for me, Sentinel, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes. Only you." Sentinel heaves his chest, still worked up from eating you out. He watches tentatively as you line yourself up, the weeping tip of his spike just pressing against the threshold. He arches his back against the restraints as his spike is engulfed in your heat, biting back a sob of relief.

"Good," You press your hips down agonisingly slow, hands pressed against his abdomen for support, "Keep still, or I won't let you finish."

You sink the rest of the way, planting your ass on his pelvis. The unrelenting fullness causes a shaky breath to whistle past your lips, but you suppress a moan. Sentinel whines, already trembling against the ropes. He tries to roll his hips up into you, but a taut squeeze of your walls halts him in his tracks.

"Do you not listen? I said stay still." You growl through your teeth. Rolling your hips forward, you create a rhythm that has Sentinel crying out. He has no control, not with his servos tied behind him, nothing to grab onto as you start to bounce ruthlessly on his throbbing spike. His helm lulls back in pleasure and hopelessness as he's forced inside you again and again.

"Ah- Ah!! Y-Y/n! I'm gonna-" Sentinel mewls, clenching his optics shut, his chest heaving once again on the cusp of an embarrassingly early overload.

You keep bouncing despite your breathing becoming laboured, fueled by the desire to see Sentinel come undone and beg for your mercy, "Yeah? You gonna cum, Sentinel? Show me how much- guh- how much you love human pussy?"

"Y-Yes! Oh, Primus yes-" Sentinel gasps, arching his back struts as you slam down on his spike, "I love it- ohhn- I love your organic valve so much-"

A raw, sinful cry wracks his frame, shuddering as he pumps his transfluids into you. The warm, suspiciously glowing fluid leaks and spurts out, causing a shiver down your spine.

"My oh my, Sentinel, that was fast." You moan softly, slowly circling your hips, "Not only are you pathetic, but you're pathetic and don't last long in bed."

Sentinel whines wearily at the extra stimulation, "Sorry- nghh- I just can't help it- AHhn!-"

You don't let him finish his sentence. Instead, you lift your hips and slam your hips back down, sending transfluids all over his pelvis. You work yourself up to a back-breaking rhythm, determined to keep your promise to make him beg for mercy. You watch in fascination as Sentinel starts to thrash against the restraints, and how he bares his dentae at you, how that disgustingly handsome face belonging to a mech at your mercy begins to contort in overwhelming pleasure.

"F-Fuck, Sentinel-" Double entendre. You keep going, fingers digging into his hip plating to prevent being thrown off. The wet, sloppy noises of metal meeting flesh spark a deep heat within the pits of your stomach.

He keeps thrashing against you as he cries and howls your name, his hips pressing into the berth to try and escape the overstimulation. He tries to form words, but all that leaves him is an incoherent babble of pleads and whines for you to stop. He overloads again, crying and tugging at the restraints, another gush of warmth spilling into you.

"C'mon, Sentinel-" You moan, your thighs trembling from the workout of holding the mech down. Your cunt aches at the prolonged stretch, but you're determined once again to draw one last overload from him. You reach down and start to circle your clit, hoping to breach your orgasm, "G-Gimme one more, and I'll stop."

"P-Primus below-" Sentinel clenches his optics shut as your pussy strangles his spike, his hips stuttering. The tightness of your walls lurches him forward as he shoots another load into you.

"Fuck yes!" You give him a show of your own and arch your back, finally reaching your orgasm. You cry out and clench down, causing more trans fluid to spill out from you. A soft, exhausted whine leaves you once you're left in the afterglow.

What a mess. Layers of sticky trans fluid coat your thighs and Sentinels' pelvis, the dull throbbing of an overworked spike still seated inside you. It's a horrific sight to walk in on if anyone were to, but maybe they should, if only to expose Sentinel for the filthy fleshy fucker he is.

Looking up, you're met with a shamelessly erotic mess of the Prime. His faceplates painted blue, his glossa lulling out of his intake, the heavy heaving of his chest plates—the face of a liar couldn't be more irresistible.

You chuckle to yourself, whipping out a small data pad and snapping a picture.

"How's that for an image, Sentinel?"

[logansdoll]

heat

part two of "cottontail"

CW: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, heavily suggestive, profanity, bunny mutation + spring = fun times, girl imma do my best, this took forever, might be a little long, etc.

As much as he hated to admit it, Logan was worried about you.

In his two-hundred years of living, he had never met someone as hot-headed and brash as you—and that was saying something. But as your you-appointed new best pal, he resigned himself to making sure you didn't piss off the wrong people.

Though it was a nice change of role, seeing as he wasn't the loose canon for once, he couldn't help but begin to grow significantly concerned for your safety.

It wasn't that you were a bad person, far from it, in fact.

Always greeting him with a sweet mornin', Logan!

Always checking up on him after missions.

Always inviting him to "sparring sessions", which would inevitably turn into you two striking up conversation about anything and everything under the sun.

Not to mention you were a humongous flirt—Jean called it being "overly friendly".

She noted that you didn't flirt with any other guys like you did him.

You always gave him those cheeky smiles that seemed to irk him to no end, and put that flirty lilt in your voice when you spoke. Not to mention the constant compliments, which would stick with him for days, sometimes weeks.

But that all stopped about a week ago.

After a day of you acting incredibly off—no jokes, no laughter, little talking—Ororo said you suddenly came down with a "spring cold", but that you'd be up and at 'em soon.

Well, soon hadn't come yet, and Logan hadn't heard anything from you in days.

A spring cold couldn't last this long...

Was it the flu? Was it something else?

And why did everyone else seem so unbothered by it?

These thoughts swam in his head every time he passed your locked door.

Until he finally had enough.

The night everyone went out for a field trip to the county fair, Logan stayed back, opting to visit your quarters with a few choice words, and a container of chicken noodle soup.

When he reached your door, he gave it a soft rap.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Only after a third—more aggressive—knock, did you finally answer.

"Yeah?" you called, your voice low and croaky.

He'd never heard you sound so defeated, and almost... pained.

It made something pang in his chest.

"That must be some cold," he quipped, attempting to play off the feeling with humor.

"Logan?" you asked, sounding shocked. "What are you... What do you want?"

"I just came to give you some soup. Jean told me it's good," he answered, glancing down at the bag in his hand. "S'been a while since I've heard from you."

He waited for a response, but when you never gave one, he began to feel stupid.

This was a mistake.

"Look, I can just leave it outside the door if you don't wanna—"

"No," you interrupted, still sounding strained. "You can come in. Just leave it on my dresser."

A little confused by your tone, he entered nonetheless, boots clicking against the hardwood.

And what he found was concerning.

Your room was a mess—furniture askew, clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor, a rumpled mess of sheets on the bed.

The smell in the air was thick with sweat and something else. He looked toward the king-sized bed where a heap sat hunched underneath the sheets

"(y/n)?" Logan called, brows furrowed with confusion and worry as he placed the bag on the dresser.

"Don't come over here!"

You sounded so distressed, in such discomfort.

What's going on?

Why did you sound like you were in trouble?

Ignoring your warning, he slowly stalked closer to the bed, taking slow, tentative steps—now able to hear your soft whimpers and grunts of pain.

"(y/n)?" he questioned, firmly.

You stirred, reacting to his voice, breathing raggedly as if you couldn't get any air in your lungs.

"(y/n), what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Whatever it is, I can help."

But you turned away, the sheets shifting with you.

"You can't," you whined, "You can't."

Patience running thin, Logan stormed over and snatched the sheets off of you. And there, under the covers, he saw you with his own two eyes.

You were curled into yourself, tail significantly fluffier than he remembered, and ears droopier than he'd ever seen.

Through your thin tank top, he could see your nipples were hard and perky, the shorts you were wearing barely covering your ass cheeks.

'Goddamn...'

When you looked at him, your face flushed red, pupils dilated beyond belief as you covered your face with embarrassment.

You trembled in your skin, tail twitching with discomfort and unease.

"I told you not to come over here," you panted, curling further into yourself. "Didn't want you to see me like this..."

You winced, squeezing your thighs together tight, looking to be in complete agony.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm in heat," you sighed, the cat pretty much out of the bag. "S'cause of my mutation. I can do everything a rabbit can, and go through everything a rabbit goes through. No matter how fucking stupid."

You wiped the sweat off your forehead, your curly hair soaked in it.

"S'why I've been hiding," you explained. "I've been tryna get through this, but I just... can't!"

Now he understood.

Your absence, your uneasiness, the smell of something in the air.

You were horny.

"How long's it last?" Logan curiously asked.

"Depends. Could be a week, could be a month..."

"A month?" he stated, surprised. "Are you in pain?"

Your face screwed tight, triggering something in his core.

"Yes," you groaned, hugging yourself closer.

You looked away from him, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pained him.

He had to help.

"What can I do?" he suggested.

You turned to him, eyes widening. "What?" you asked. "What do you—"

"I wanna help you, cottontail," he cut in, already kicking off his boots and taking off his leather jacket to reveal his sexy, white wife-beater. "So tell me what I gotta do."

You watched him, looking completely stunned and mortified, but your pussy throbbed at the sight of his outfit.

"No, no, Logan," you protested. "Y-You can't... you don't need to do this."

But he stood firm in his decision, refusing to leave you.

"I know I don't need to," he firmly responded. "I can't let you go on like this."

"It's okay..." you assured. "It'll probably be done by the end of the week. You don't—"

Before you could even finish, his hand grabbed your face, pulling you close and squeezing your cheeks, his tone demanding.

"Don't protest. Don't argue. Don't push me away... Just let me take care of you, alright?"

His gorgeous brown eyes, filled with the promises of safety and acceptance, bore into yours.

How could you deny him?

"Okay," you caved, leaning into his touch.

"Good girl," he cracked a smile, lips suddenly swooping yours up in a firm kiss.

You let out a soft, eager moan as he scooped you up in his arms, the man letting out a quiet chuckle when you squeaked, your feet dangling off the ground.

While still kissing you, he sat himself down on the bed and plopped you in his lap. His soft lips and tongue made you squirm in his lap, brushing yourself against his quickly hardening cock in his jeans.

"Can I touch your ears?" he whispered, breathless. "'N' your tail?"

Gently, his hand moved down to your ass, caressing your cotton tail. Your toes curled, your body tingling from the sensation.

"Y-Yes," you shakily replied. "Go ahead."

And when his fingers began to lightly brush and stroke your bunny ear from base to tip, you nearly had a full body orgasm, your pussy growing wetter with each pass.

"Fuck..." you gasped. "Yes, just like that..."

Logan smirked as he watched your face contort in pleasure, his ego growing with each whimper.

"Like that?" he asked, teasingly, his cock throbbing at the sound of your pitiful whine in response.

Over these past few months, he'd had countless dreams about having you just like this. And now that he was, he could say with certainty that it was far better than any fantasy.

Gently, one of his big hands slid down between your thighs to pet your pussy through your panties, while the other continued to stroke your ears.

Your mouth fell agape, pleasure coursing through you.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, tilting your head back as his fingers ghosted over your clit.

You began to shamelessly grind your pussy into his fingers, turning Logan on even more.

"Needy little thing..." he chuckled, amused. "Adorable."

Under his firm gaze and insistent fingers, you nearly came apart at the seams. But before you could, he pulled away, scooping you up with one arm, much to your surprise and arousal, and sliding himself further down the bed.

With a grin, he dropped his head into the pillows, shifting and forcing you to hover over his face.

"M'gonna taste you, now," he stated, as if it was a fact.

You whined in response, moving to grab the headboard as he pulled your panties to the side, giving your pussy a quick peck before completely dropping you on top of him.

"Logan!" you half-moaned, half-screamed, eyes blown wide with pleasure.

You tried to brace yourself, but it wasn't long before he made you a writhing, whimpering, whining mess.

"Ah, Lo, yes!" you cried. "Oh, fuck! Right fuckin' there! Right fuckin' there!"

You were loud and vocal, much to his enjoyment.

He was having the time of his life, massaging your ass and sucking your wet pussy, your juices dripping down his chin.

He even groaned and grunted into your pussy about how good you tasted, only making you wetter at seeing such a stoic man lose his shit over you.

"You want a finger, baby?" he growled, voice slightly muffled. "Talk to me. Tell me what chu want."

"Please," you whimpered. "Fuck me, Logan! Make me come!"

Logan smiled, slowly inserting one of his thick fingers into your hole while his lips gently sucked on your clit.

You nearly screamed, bawling at the pleasure.

"Oh, my God!" you sobbed. "Shit, Logan, I'm gonna... I'm gonna.."

Your orgasm slammed into you without a second thought, drawing a string of slutty moans out as you came all over Logan's tongue.

"That's my good girl," he smirked into your pussy. "So fuckin' good f'me."

Your orgasm was so strong that you began to tremble, the aftershocks taking over your body.

The release helped with the pain... but it still wasn't enough.

You needed more.

Suddenly, he took hold of your chin, staring into your eyes as if he could peer right into your head.

"Do you want more?" he asked, cockily.

Slowly, you nodded, tears pricking your eyes at how much to needed this.

"Yes, Logan," you pleaded, your arousal making you bold and unashamed in your need to be fucked. "Please give it to me. I don't care how you take me. Just please..."

That was all he needed to hear.

He gave you exactly what you wanted and more. The man fucked you, and he fucked you good. He gave your little body everything it needed to knock out those horny thoughts and relieve you of your heat.

In almost every position, too.

He fucked you in missionary while standing up, his hips pistoning into yours while your feet dangled in the air, his hands pinning your thighs apart and making you take each deep, long, slow stroke that had you seeing stars and frantically rubbing your clit watching his handsome face contort in pleasure. 

He fucked you while standing up, your little body bouncing in his arms as you fucked you up and down on his cock, your arms wrapped tight around his neck, your tits pressed flush against his pecs, and your lips locked with his in a passionate, sloppy, wet kiss. 

He fucked you on your side, his big body curled around yours and his cock nestled between your ass cheeks before sliding inside you again, your leg hiked up to get deeper. 

He fucked you on all fours, using your ears to pull you back on his cock, your back arched and ass stinging from random spanks while he pounded into the deep, wet heat of your pussy that squeezed and griped him for dear life. When you tried to rub your clit, he smacked it away and rubbed your pussy for you.

“Uh-uh,” he growled. “No touching what’s mine. All you need to do is cum. Can my little bunny do that?” 

You didn't even answer—you couldn't. But your loud moans and sobs bouncing off of your walls are all the answers Logan needs as he fucked you faster, harder, making your clit sing and pleasure zip through you.

When you felt your last orgasm of the night zip through you, you let out a broken whimper and came all over Logan's cock. 

Triggered by your orgasm and sweet little sounds, Logan gripped you tighter and pounded into you without mercy, until he finally released, too.

“Oh, fuck!” he gasped, his loud groans and grunts echoing throughout the room, triggering another mini-orgasm that made your pussy quiver and drip down your thighs. 

Logan came deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. He even had enough to give you on your ass, pulling out to spray your perfect cheeks with more of his seed, pumping his cock furiously behind you.

A smile stretched across your face as the aftershocks began, practically melting into the sheets. 

You were sweaty, winded, soaked, tired, and covered in cum...but you’d never been more satisfied or happier in your life.

Logan finally settled down beside you, turning you over to face him. He gave you a small smile, his face hot with stray hairs sticking to his forehead. 

“Better now?” he murmured, gently stroking down your back.

You wordlessly nodded, a small, tired hum leaving your lips. 

“Good,” he nodded, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Get some rest.”

And just like that, you were out like a light, softly snoring into his chest, your body curled into his side.

You couldn't wait for next spring...

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

He's been at Steve's house a week before he manages to gather up the courage to ask.

He shuffles into the living room, Steve's old slippers on his feet, Steve's old pajamas hanging off him. He'd lost weight in the hospital. And hadn't gained much back yet, still in too much pain to really have an appetite. But this, it needed doing. He needed it done.

"Steve?" He asks, throat clicking, voice scratchy from underuse. Steve looks away from the tv immediately, hits the mute button, eyes wide and on Eddie.

"Hey. You okay?" He asks, turning his whole body on the couch, towards Eddie, giving him his full attention.

Eddie just nods. Slowly. His eyes going unfocused, staring at the floor.

"Eddie?" And Steve's in front of him now, he hadn't even heard him get up.

"Hmm?" He hums in his throat, eyes still feeling foggy.

"Did you need something?" Steve asks, Eddie's eyes focus, the concern in Steve's voice bring him back into his body. He looks at Steve, nods, says,

"I need you to cut my hair." His lip trembles, he digs his teeth in.

"You... what?" Steve's confused. Rightfully so. Eddie swallows around the fire in his throat, tries to explain it to Steve. This thing he can barley figure out himself. Has a half formed idea at best. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, Steve steps a little closer.

"It's just- it keeps- I keep laying on it. And it... pulls. And I'm sleeping and it pulls and I wake up and I can't breathe and it's-" he inhales, sharp and shakey and then Steve is there, his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

"Okay. It's okay. I'll do it. Whatever you want Ed's." He pulls Eddie upstairs, into his bathroom. Stands with him in front of the mirror, scissors in hand.

"Where do you want it?" Steve asks, his eyes meeting Eddie's in the mirror. Eddie takes a deep breath, brings his hand up, winces at the pull on his ribs but keeps going.

"Above my shoulders. But like... I wanna still be able to tuck it behind my ears?" He's not sure why it comes out as a question, but Steve just nods, Eddie sees his lips twitch into the start of a smile before dropping again. He reach up, drags his fingers genlty through Eddie hair.

His stomach sinks, his hair is gross. He hasn't washed it in days. Too tired. Too much pain. Too much effort.

"Sorry my hair's gross." He mumbles, lips barley moving.

"It's not. It's fine." Steve assures him, his voice soft, sections out a small lock of hair, he looks at Eddie in the mirror again.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, he looks sad. Eddie hates it. But also doesn't. Because it means Steve sees him, understands him, and how important his hair is to him.

But it doesn't matter right now. That his hair is a peice of him, a peice of the Eddie he'd built to keep himself safe. A peice of his armor.

"I'm sure. Please." He isn't begging, exactly, but his hands fist in his pajama pants, and it feels like it anyway.

"I'm gonna go just above your shoulder at first okay? And then if you want more off we can do that." Steve waits for Eddie to agree and then starts cutting.

Eddie closes his eyes when the scissors sink through his hair. Keeps them closed as Steve works. He stops a few cuts in and tells Eddie to wait there. Eddie sits on the toilet seat as he waits for Steve to come back.

He brings a radio with him, clicks in one of the tapes Eddie made him, and gets back to work. Eddie's eyes stay closed. He finds himself smiling as he listens to Steve hum behind him. Scrunches his nose when Steve full on sings a few times.

Not because he's bad. He's got a really nice voice actually. Eddie loves listening to him sing. But if he didn't scrunch his face he might to do something else instead, something stupid, with Steve so close.

It only takes a couple songs before Steve's hands are on his shoulders, gentle, reassuring, an anchor.

"Okay. It's done. Or at least. Might be. I can take more off if you need me too." His voice is soft in Eddie's ear, Eddie can feel the heat of his chest on his back he's so close.

He opens his eyes and feels his heart flutter in his chest. His head swimming a little. His hair hadn't been this short since junior year. He can see Steve watching him in the mirror.

"Good?" He asks, dragging his lip into his mouth and letting it go again.

"I think so." Eddie says, feeling a bit dazzed, a bit dizzy. And then Steve fucking reaches up with both hands, tucks Eddie's hair behind his ears genlty, his fingers moving down his neck to rest back on his shoulders.

"I could take another inch. It'd still fit behind your ears." Steve's eyes are moving over his head, like he's doing some complex math equation. Eddie wants to cry. His chest tight.

"Okay. Take it." He says, Steve's eyes move to his in their reflections again.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, reaching up and smoothing his hand over Eddie's hair. Eddie nods.

"Yeah. One more inch." He breathes the words out, like he just needs them gone, out of his mouth. Steve smiles at him, untucks his hair from his ears and starts cutting again.

Eddie watches him this time. Watches the way his tongue sticks out as he concentrates, measuring Eddie's hair between his fingers before he cuts. His tongue peaking out between his lips, brow furrowed in concentration.

Eddie watches him and tries to convince himself he actually wanted it shorter. And maybe he did. But he knows too, that he didn't want Steve to stop touching him. Steve's eyes meet his in the mirror and he smiles again. Eddie looks away. His cheeks burning.

"Okay. You're done Munson." His voice is teasing, it makes Eddie's stomach flutter.

"Thanks. Harrington." He teases back. Too soft. He knows. But he can't help it. His voice is stuck in his throat. Steve snorts as Eddie turns, takes a step toward the door.

"Actually. Can I-" Steve stops, his hand curling around Eddie's bicep, stopping him there. Eddie looks at him. Waiting.

"Can I wash your hair for you?" Steve asks, his voice quiet, Eddie barely hears it over the radio.

"My...?" Is Eddie's articulate reply.

"Please? It'll make you feel better. I- I think." Steve stammers a bit, always so endearing when he does that. Eddie loves when he's flustered.

"I uh... yeah okay. If you want." Eddie shrugs, tries to act normal. Like any of this is normal. And Steve fucking beams at him, that beautiful smile on full display.

"Okay cool. Just uh... here you can sit here while I get this cleaned up and get a towel and I'll be right back." He's talking fast, his hands flailing and jumping around as he talks. Eddie just nods, smiling at him as he watches him toss Eddie's chopped hair into the trash. Watches him take a lock of it and tie it in a knot, tells Eddie he'll put it somewhere safe. So they'll know when it's fully grown out again.

Steve wipes up the counter and disappears, comes back with two towels a few seconds later. Instructs Eddie to sit on the floor. He sets a towel down for him to sit on and lays the other over the side of the tub.

Eddie lets Steve guide him. His hands gentle as he lowers Eddie's head back over the tub, asks if he's comfortable, Eddie hums an affirmation. Steve makes sure the water is warm, not too hot, because Eddie doesn't like hot water. He gets it perfect. And then starts pouring water onto Eddie's hair.

Eddie's not sure where he got the cup. Or if it was already there for some reason. He means to ask but Steve's fingers sink into his hair and his brain short circuits. The shampoo smells amazing. Minty. It tingles against his scalp in the best way as Steve's fingers move in slow circles.

Eddie's eyes fall closed. He's sure he makes some obscene noise but Steve is kind enough not to comment. His fingers working magic in Eddie's hair. He rinses with warm water, the contrast from the cool minty feeling making Eddie shiver.

He hears Steve laugh a quiet laugh as he does and smiles himself. He hears another bottle pop open and closed and then Steve's fingers are back. Working the conditioner into his hair slowly, massaging it into his scalp as well. His hands moving slowly, with a purpose, for what feels like hours. He pulls back eventually, fingers dragging slowly through Eddie's hair as he goes.

"I'm gonna let that sit for about two minutes and then we'll rinse okay? You doin okay? Not in pain are you?" Steve all but whispers in Eddie's ear. The radio is still playing in the background. But Eddie couldn't tell you a single fucking song that had played since Steve started touching him.

"I'm good. Kinda tired. But that might just be your magic fingers." He peaks one eye open, watches as Steve laughs, shakes his head. He closes his eye again and laughs too. Only it wasn't a joke. Not really. Steve's fingers were magic. Just like the rest of him.

Steve hums along to Queen's Radio Ga Ga as they wait, Eddie tapping out the beat on his thigh as Steve hums and sways. The song ends and Steve scoots closer.

"Ready?" He asks, turning the water back on.

"As I'll ever be." Eddie deadpans, scooting back a bit from where he'd slid down.

"You're not gonna try and put products in my hair and blow dry it are you?" Eddie asks as Steve starts pouring water over him, fingers moving quicker now, moving his hair around to get it clean, he snorts again.

"No. Just wanted to get you clean." He says, pouring one last cup of water over his hair and turning the tap off. He grabs at each side of the towel under Eddie's neck and lifts, pulling Eddie up and wrapping his hair in one smooth motion. Eddie's eyes land on him and he can't help it.

"So my hair was gross. I knew it." He sighs, watches Steve's nose crinkle.

"It really wasn't that bad. But you thought it was. So i figured this would help." Steve shrugged, like it was nothing. Eddie bit his lip as Steve patted and scrunched his hair in the towel, being careful not to pull.

He claps his hands down on his thighs and helps Eddie get back on his feet. Pulls him genlty to stand in front of the mirror again and smiles soflty when Eddie takes the towel off his head and drags his own fingers through his hair.

It's short, leveled at his chin, a little above when he tucks it behind his ears. And he feels... better. Lighter. He shoves his hands up into the back of it, taking a deep breathe when his fingers drag over his neck, it makes him shiver.

"Fuck. I'm gonna be cold now." He mutters, chuckling in his throat, he hadn't thought about that.

"I'll keep you warm." Steve's voice is soft, when he speaks. The tape in the deck clicks and goes quiet as they stare at each other in the mirror.

"I just wanted you to feel better. But I'll gladly keep you warm too. Whatever you need Eddie. I- I mean I'm here. For you. Not goin anywhere." He shrugs after he mumbles through his little confession, his eyes on the floor when he turns to Eddie.

"I feel better." Eddie whispers, bites his lip and decides to be brave.

He steps forward, into Steve's space, Steve lifts his head, hazel eyes darting around Eddie's face. Eddie hears his breath stutter when he leans closer, presses his lips to Steve's cheek, firm.

Wanting no doubt in Steve's mind that Eddie means this. Means to kiss him. Means to pull him into a tight hug after. Means to hum happily into Steve's neck when Steve pulls him close, arms wrapping around Eddie's skinny frame and holding him tight.

"I'm not going anywhere either." Eddie breathes into his shoulder, presses another kiss there, into his shirt, like a promise. Steve squeezes him tighter, Eddie thinks he might be crying. His chest fluttering against Eddie's as he breathes shakily.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Eddie asks, lets Steve pull away a bit so he can see him. Eddie was right, there are tears in his eyes, but he's smiling as he looks at Eddie.

"Yeah. Course you can. You can sleep there every night if you want. Forever." Steve says, nuzzles into Eddie touch as he wipes tears away from his flushed cheeks.

"Forever huh?" Eddie teases, kissing acoss Steve's cheeks genlty as he laughs, it's wet, and wobbly, and Eddie is so fucking in love with him already.

"Yeah. Forever. Or however long you want me I guess." He shrugs again, dismissive, as if he really thinks Eddie would ever give him up.

"Forever sounds good to me. Not fucking letting you go now I've got you." Eddie whispers, his hands holding Steve's face, Steve's hands on his wrists, holding him too.

"You're gonna keep me forever?" Steve asks, his lip trembling as he looks at Eddie with hope in his teary eyes.

"Forever and ever, if I can." Eddie nods, and it seems to break Steve. He sighs, grabs at Eddie's pajama shirt and tugs him forward. Their lips crash together, a little rough at first, their teeth clicking until Steve seems to calm and slow down. His lips move genlty against Eddie's, soft and slow, and when he pulls back he's smiling again, his crooked little half smile that Eddie loves so much.

Steve scrunches his hair a few more times and then drags Eddie upstairs, gets them both comfy in his bed. And he holds Eddie as they fall alseep, pressing kisses into his hair and against his temple before sleep takes him.

Eddie wakes up warm. Drapped across Steve's chest as the sun hits them. He feels lips press into his hair, smiles when Steve makes exaggerated kissy noises. But he keeps his eyes closed, nuzzles deeper into Steve as he feels his fingers press into his hair.

Eddie hums as they drag through a few times, nimbly untangling rats or snags as they move. He sinks deeper into Steve, his heart fluttering as Steve's hand moves through his hair genlty, scratching at his scalp as he goes, before settling against the back of his neck, his thumb moving in slow cirles against the newly exposed skin.

Eddie whimpers into Steve's chest and snuggles closer, Steve keeping him warm, just like he promised. Eddie couldn't wait to spend forever with him.

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: The Hills - HATE SEX ♡

SUMMARY / You tried to confront your ex, but neither of you could ignore the tension between you two.

warnings ✩ PORN LINK, SMUT, switch!yeosang, switch!reader, fem!reader, so much anger, so much hate, ANGST ANGST ANGST, unprotected sex, degradation (m & f), choking (m & f), literally at each others necks, both of you have cheated on each other

word count ✩ 2,89k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

Knock knock!

You recognized that knock. He was here, finally. The air in your apartment seemed to thicken as Yeosang stepped inside, his eyes searching yours for any trace of the anger that had fueled your phone call earlier. You held his gaze, noticing the way his hair fell across his forehead, the same way it had that first night you met at the bar. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, not from anger but from something else, something more primal.

"Come in." you say blankly, walking back to your cough and sitting down. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the silence that had settled between you. Yeosang hovered in the doorway for a moment before crossing the threshold, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards.

He sat down opposite you, the couch acting as a barrier that somehow didn't feel substantial enough to contain the electricity that arced through the space separating you. You both knew what this was about, the unspoken words hanging in the air thick as smoke. The tension was palpable, a living, breathing entity that seemed to pulse with every beat of your heart.

"So," he began. His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to resonate in the very walls of the room. "What did you want to talk about?"

You glare. "You know why I told you to come over here, Yeosang. I've had it with the games." Your voice is a tightrope, balancing between anger and something else—desire. You can feel it, the way your body tingles with every word.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks at you intently. "What games?" His tone is even, but you can see the muscles in his jaw clench. He's playing it cool, but you know he's just as affected as you are.

"Stop that." you gulp. "Every time I try to talk to you we end up fucking! I told you I wanted to get back together. I told you I wanted to try again and you agreed but never went through with it! Why?! Why can't you ever keep your fucking word?!"

Yeosang's eyes darken. "You act like I'm the reason we're not together anymore." he stands up. "I didn't come here trying to talk to you just so you could curse me out."

You stand as well, your own anger flaring. "You didn't come here to talk, either!" You accuse. "And yeah! You are! You fucking cheated on me!"

He takes a step closer, the heat between you growing, the air around you crackling with unspoken accusations and regrets. "You're not exactly innocent, are you?"

"…" You reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You know he's referring to the nights you spent with other men, trying to dull the pain he caused. But those moments of weakness don't compare to the betrayal he served you. You swallow hard, feeling your throat tighten.

"You did it first. You're not innocent either-"

"So because I did it, it's okay for you to do it?!" he screams, his voice echoing off the walls. Yeosang takes another step closer, his eyes blazing. You can see the hurt in them, the anger he's been holding onto since you first told him about your indiscretions.

"Well don't do some shit like that and then expect me to be okay with it!" You shout back, the room vibrating with your voice. The space between you is charged with anger, but also something else. Something you both refuse to acknowledge.

"I told you I was sorry! We were fucking drunk! You decided to be a fucking whore-"

SLAP!

Your hand connected with his cheek almost immediately, the sound of skin meeting skin reverberating through the room. Yeosang's head snapped to the side, and for a moment, you both just stand there, breathing heavily. You can feel the heat of your hand radiating off your cheek, and the taste of copper fills your mouth as your teeth cut into your bottom lip. You hadn't meant to do that—but the words had just slipped out, and you couldn't take them back.

Instinctively, he wrapped a hand around your neck and you fought with everything in you to not flinch. His grip was tight, but not painful. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his anger and his desire. And then, just as suddenly as the fight had ignited, it changed. His gaze softened, and his other hand slid down to your shoulder, gripping the fabric of your shirt as he stepped closer, his body pressing into yours. You felt your heart race, the heat from his body searing through your clothes.

He pressed his lips against yours immediately, and you could taste the anger in his kiss, but also something else—desperation. Your body responded before your mind had a chance to catch up, and you found yourself kissing him back with the same intensity. It was messy, desperate, and full of the pain of the words that had been said between you, but it was also full of the passion that had once defined your relationship.

Your hands went to his chest, pushing him away, but your legs buckled, and you ended up pulling him closer instead. His hand slid up your neck to cradle the back of your head, angling your face so he could deepen the kiss. You could feel his tongue probing your mouth, claiming you once again, and a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine. You hated how good it felt, how much you had missed this.

He picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, his body following yours. You landed with a thud, but it was overshadowed by the thunderous beat of your hearts. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping tightly as he ground his erection against you.

"I-I still hate you." you growl between kisses, but your body was telling a different story. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could absorb his very essence. Yeosang's hands slipped under your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing the line of your spine, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, the fabric of your shirt riding up to expose your stomach to the cool air.

"Doesn't matter," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with need. "I still want you." His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, revealing your lacy black bra. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin, and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched in anticipation.

"D-Don't think this means we're-" you moan when he kisses your neck. "W-we're okay--it doesn't.."

Yeosang's chuckle was low and dark. "It doesn't have to mean anything." He unclasps your bra with a flick of his fingers, letting your breasts spill out. "It's just sex." His words were a lie, but the heat in his eyes was undeniable.

You started unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down and letting him pull them off and discard them on the floor.

"You still love the way I fuck you," Yeosang murmured into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You gritted your teeth, trying to push aside the truth in his words. You didn't love him, not anymore. You hated him—right? But as his hand trailed down your body to cup your ass, squeezing tightly, your body responded with a betraying moan.

"I don't-" you stammer, but your words are lost as his mouth finds your nipple, teasing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. You bite your lip to keep from crying out, the sensation too much to handle. Your panties are soaked, and you know he can feel it as he rubs against you, the rough fabric of his own pants a stark contrast to your softness.

He sits up and undoes his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his zipper is like a gun cocking in the silent room, and you know what's coming next. You're torn between the anger and the lust, but your body is betraying you—wet and ready for him. Yeosang pulls his pants down, freeing his erection, which stands tall and proud. You can't help but stare, remembering how it felt inside of you.

"Sure you don't." he didn't even look at you. He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up. You felt the head of his cock against your clit, and your body jerked in response. "But we both know your cunt's been begging for me." He slammed into you without warning, and you cried out, your nails digging into his back. It was rough, almost violent, but it felt so fucking good.

"You asshole," you spat, your eyes watering from the mix of pain and pleasure. "I-I hate you." But even as you said it, your hips rocked against his, urging him deeper. Yeosang's thrusts grew more punishing, each one a silent declaration of his anger and his need for you.

Your teeth gritted as Yeosang's hips piston into you. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples sensitive and erect, begging for his touch. You're so wet that the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a testament to the intense friction between you.

"You're such a slut," he groaned, his voice a mix of anger and arousal. "Spreading your legs for anyone that looks your way." His words were a knife, slicing through your soul, but your body responded with a tightening of your muscles, gripping his cock like a vise.

"A-And you put your dick in any girl that throws you a smile," you retorted, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You could feel the orgasm building, your body a coil of tension ready to snap.

He wrapped his hand around your neck once again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air as he slammed into you. "You're just a worthless whore," he hissed, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Why should I even care about your pathetic attempts to get me back?"

You clawed at his shoulders, feeling the fabric of his shirt tear beneath your nails. "You're nothing but a cheating bastard," you spat back, the taste of his skin on your tongue. "F-Fucking me won't change that!"

His hips stuttered. Your words were hitting him like a truck and you took advantage of that, pushing him away and onto his back, crawling on top of him, your thighs straddling his waist. You slammed down onto his cock, riding him with a ferocity that had him gasping for air, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Is that all you think of me?" you sneered, your voice a serrated whisper. "A whore to be used and thrown away?" With every bounce of your hips, you hammered the question into him, your teeth bared in a snarl.

"That's all you are," Yeosang managed to say through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he met your punishing rhythm. "Just a slut who can't keep your legs shut." His eyes blazed with fury, but his cock remained rock-hard, a stark contrast to the venom in his words.

You laen down, your forehead pressing against his. "Is that all you think of me?" you repeated, your voice a hoarse whisper. "After all we've been through?" You start to ride him harder, each movement punctuated by a snarled word. "Is that all I'm worth to you?"

He grabs your hips, trying to move his own in tandem with yours. "S-Shut up." He grunts through clenched teeth. "You're the one that wanted this."

"Oh, I want it," you admit, leaning down to bite his earlobe with your hand wrapping tightly around his neck. "But I want you to admit that you're just as much to blame for this mess as I am." You grind down harder, watching his eyes roll back in his head. "Say it," you demand.

"I-I'm to blame," Yeosang chokes out, his voice strained. "I'm to blame for fucking you when we both know we shouldn't." His hands grip your hips, pushing you down onto him with renewed vigor.

"Yeah," you moan. "You're to blame for making me want you like this." You lean down and whisper into his ear, "But I hate you for making me want you."

"I bet," he grips your hips and flips you over so you're on your back, his weight pressing you into the couch cushions. He doesn't bother with gentle caresses, instead he slams into you with a brutal force that has you seeing stars. "Doesn't matter. You know you're nothing but a hole for me to fill." he growls, each thrust punctuating his words. You can feel your anger rising to match his, your body moving with his in a dance of pure, unbridled passion and spite.

"You're nothing but a dick," you spit back, your voice hoarse from the pleasure and pain mixing within you. "A worthless piece of meat that thinks it can just fuck me when it wants!" You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your teeth clenched as your nails dig into his back.

"Yeah?" he pants, failing to hold back his moans. "Well, your pussy loves my dick, doesn't it?" Yeosang's strokes grow faster, his breaths shallower, and you know he's close to the edge. You tighten your legs around him, using your core muscles to squeeze him, to keep him deep inside you as your body begs for release.

"Gonna fill you up so good." Yeosang's voice is a taunt, a challenge. "Show you who you really belong to." He drives into you with an aggression that borders on brutal, his hands bruising your hips. The pain is exquisite, and you hate how much your body responds to it. You want to scream, to claw his eyes out, but instead, you arch your back, offering yourself up to him, begging for more.

"S-Show me." you smile weakly, clawing into his skin. "Y-You're still fucking obsessed with my pussy. Still a fucking manwhore. Can't get enough of me, can you?" The words are acid on your tongue, but they're what he wants to hear. What you both need to hear.

Yeosang's eyes narrowed, the insults stoking the fire in his eyes. "You're just a desperate slut, aren't you?" he snarled, his grip on your hips tightening. "You'd let anyone fuck you to feel wanted again."

"Shut up." you cry out. "I'm so fucking close, shut up!" You can feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure and anger that's about to crash over you like a tidal wave. Yeosang's words are like gasoline on the fire, and you want to hate him for it—but instead, they just make you wetter.

He smirks, his thrusts becoming erratic. "That's right," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "You love this. You love the way I treat you like a whore."

You want to argue, to scream in his face that you're not, that he's the one who's ruined everything. But the words die on your lips as his cock hits that perfect spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the moan that wants to escape.

"You love it when I talk dirty to you," Yeosang whispers, his voice a dark caress against your ear. "You're nothing but a whore, begging for more." His strokes grow harder, his hips slapping against yours with a sound that seems to echo through the room.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is a guttural moan as your orgasm crashes through you. "Yeosang," you whimper his name, your voice a plea for release.

He laughs, a harsh sound that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" His voice is a mix of triumph and disdain.

"Y-Yeah," you moan. "Just don't stop-" You're so close, your vision swimming with the intensity of your climax.

"Worthless bitch," Yeosang grunts, his grip tightening, his strokes growing more punishing. "Fucking cumdump, yeah?" His voice is a snarl, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and lust. "Admit it."

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension in your body coil even tighter. "Asshole," you spit back, your eyes flashing. "I'd rather be a cumdump than a cheating prick like you." The words come out as a moan, your body betraying you as you climb closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.

And finally, your climax crashes over you, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling beneath him. "Yeosang," you moan, his name a curse on your lips as your body convulses around him. You hate the way his name sounds so good coming out of your mouth, especially when you're in the throes of passion.

He doesn't slow down, his own release building as he watches you come apart. "You're mine," he growls, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. The sting of pain is a sharp contrast to the pleasure that's still pulsing through you. "Always have been, always will be."

[sleepyangelkami]

I'm posting this from my phone so please bare with me guys.

"ew, you write y/n as a baby."

okay, so. I understand that the way I write might not float everyone's boat which is so okay !! But yk what you could do...? Scroll !! There's no need to hate. I really apologize if the way I've written my readers in x reader fics is harmful in any way. However, I'm not going to stop making the character they're with baby them and look after them. The beauty in all of this is that none of it is real. Life can be hard and life can be way toooo much and at the end of the day you might js wanna read ab getting babied. People baby their partners all the time whether you're male female any other gender none of this matters. I write female y/n and if you have a problem with the characters babying her but at the same time you're posting matt sturniolo (I apologize if I spelled that wrong) and saying omg cutie baby 🥺🥺 it's the same thing !!! It's so normal and people are making it weird. If you want to read badass!y/n then write badass!y/n. People get so hung up on writing shy readers and saying it's weird. It's how a lot of people feel and I'm personally really shy irl which is why everything on my account is fake !! Kami isn't even my real name ! You guys need to stop spreading hate towards people and if you don't like their work whether it's cringe or even a little weird then please just scroll

"ew innocence kinks are for p*edos."

Oh my. More often than not innocence kinks are usually submissive people loving the chase and getting dominant people to spell it all out for them. Not only that but sometimes people suffer from childhood trauma (me !!) and they read things that make them get to relive the part where their 'innocence' was 'taken' from them in a gentle way and not by abuse of power. Also, some people just have innocence kinks !! And that's okay as long as you're two consenting adults. When did everyone get so judgemental !! I've seen stepcest, ACTUAL incest and more prominently pain kinks and knives kinks guys innocence kinks really are not the worst problems out there ! I understand that some people take them too far which is not okay and under no circumstances would I ever support someone taking advantage of someone else who doesn't fully comprehend what's going on. But yk what this is?? Mere fantasies. They don't exist, it's just what people like to read so please leave us alone 🩷

And finally, "why is y/n such a pushover omg?"

Wanna start off by saying I don't condone cheating ever !! And I would never write a fic where the reader gets back with the character after they cheat. With that being said, the only fics I have ever seen of that (very VERY few) they have put trigger warnings at the beginning to let you know what you're reading. And for the people who say that the reader shouldn't go back because their partner yelled at them... Guys PLEASE !! I understand that yelling isn't something that should be excused, you should never put your partner in a position where they are scared or feel uncomfortable. However, I also know for a fact that everyone reading this has at one point in their lives yelled at someone. Being loved isn't about loving someone with happy rainbows there's gonna be bad days which I find realistic enough. Partners argue, sometimes relationships even take breaks and people get petty and people yell but you know why?? Cause we're human !!! It's in our nature if we're angry or annoyed or whatever it may be. Of course this behavior shouldn't be excused if it's constantly on show. Although denying the fact that you'd ever get back with someone after they yelled at you during an argument is a little bit childish. I don't mean hate to anybody whatsoever I'm just saying that you're dating a human (hopefully) not an alien (you'd be surprised on Tumblr I actually can't rule that one out) they have emotions and while sometimes they can be misplaced... It doesn't mean they're a bad person for it.

This isn't meant to harm or send hate to anyone !! I've just seen so much hatred spread across Tumblr and it's really upsetting. People should learn to support one another and if you don't like the content, scroll ! Once again this is hate to nobody enjoy ur day/morning/evening/night lovelies !!! 🩷🩷

(sorry for the ramble angels)

[alexlwrites]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

OR  

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I wanna leave this here as sort of a trigger warning: this work features a plus size main character and throughout the story there will be mean comments from characters about her body and her journey dealing with said comments. A lot of it comes from my own experience as a (now ex-ish) plus size girl myself and my path to living peacefully within my body. And although this work is about Y/N's relationship with the boys, I like to think that she still would've continued to grow and blossom happily on her own. Let this be something you learn from this fic, as I say right on the first chapter: You don't have to love the way you look right away, you just can't let it stop you from doing the things you want and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

Thank you for reading <3

P.S: Red daisies, like many red flowers, represent love and romance. Florists often use them to communicate affection to someone who doesn’t know how beautiful they are—a.k.a. beauty unknown to the possessor. 

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The pattern in your relationships - if you could call them that - was tiring, to say the least. Once, they might have been soul crushing, but time and repetition took away the novelty of your pain and now the endgame was a mild, resented disappointment.

It started with kindness and a gentle smile, mainly from your part. You treated anyone who gave you any smidgen of attention with the utmost sweetness, hoping your energy would be matched. And sometimes it was, for a while. Sometimes you got to be on the receiving end of a blinding smile or a casual touch and you allowed yourself to hope - no, pray -that that could be it. That someone, some modern day knight in shiny armor , saw through your looks and decided that you were deserving of love, despite societal norms,

But men had a way of setting you up for disappointment. A talent, truly.

You were tired, you decided that night. No, beyond that, you were exhausted, scarred, bitter, hopeless, resentful… You could keep going. You could list every bad feeling you had been carrying in your chest by alphabetical order or by how badly they hurt and honestly you just wanted it to stop.

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy, you wondered watching the boy you had been seeing for a few weeks make fun of you in front of his circle of friends at the party you were both at. Would you never be allowed to be happy just the way you were?

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy?

“Yeah, she’s nice” Junsuu said, winking suggestively at his giggling friends “if you know what I mean.” you felt your face heat up in humiliation at the renewed round of laughter “But we just don’t match, like, physically. You know, looks-wise.”

“Right” someone agreed way too enthusiastically, sending a spear through your heart “I really just can’t see you with someone like her.”

What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?

“You’re right” you said out loud, drawing attention to yourself. Filled with hatred (for him, the world, the circumstances), your heart had no room to be mortified when all eyes turned to you “we don’t match.”

You watched as Junsuu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to hear, much less reply “I am a big girl” you continued, words dripping with rage “And I know for a fact that there’s nothing big about you.”

You turned around to leave the room, cringing at the petty comeback, ignoring the murmurs and Junsuu’s panicked calls of your name. Walking fast, you fled the scene of the last heartbreak you would allow yourself to go through, deciding that a change was needed, but not the change everyone wanted from  you.

Despite the rumors, you didn’t turn into a huge bitch overnight, didn’t start kicking puppies or spitting on the poor. Truly, the only thing you did was establish boundaries and reevaluate the amount of respect some people deserved, but very quickly people started seeing you as some sort of villain, especially when they realized how little you cared for how they saw you. How disrespectful of you to not allow yourself to be disrespected, right?

At first, there was still an air of uncertainty about you - years and years of non-reciprocal niceties drilled into your brain, habits hard to quit. But the more you let go of those things, these tiny acts of self-aggression disguised as pleasantries and altruism, the lighter you felt; Your days became easier to get through, existing within your body felt less and less like a punishment. You had yet to reach an Instagram-worthy level of body positivity, but you had become accustomed to body neutrality. You didn’t have to love the way you looked right away, you just couldn’t let it stop you from doing the things you wanted and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

And respect you started to demand and much happier you became, living in relative peace and solitude - safe by a few close friends - up until your days started being pestered by seven headaches you could not seem to shake away.

—-

Jungkook was the one that saw you first.

It was 3 weeks into the semester and he finally decided it was the perfect time to start going to classes, sitting in the back and only listening to about 25% of what was being said, mind floating towards more important subjects such as the package of ramen waiting for him at home. Only mildly interested in what the professor had to teach, he couldn’t help but to be startled when everyone started getting up from their seats to shuffle around the room. “What’s going on?” he asked the guy sitting next to him.

“Professor gave us a duo assignment.” the other man said, standing up “You're with Y/N.”

“Who?”

The guy just pointed towards you with his chin, redirecting Jungkook’s attention before leaving. You were sitting a couple rows further down, hunched over your little green IPad as you wrote something with impressive velocity. Jungkook walked over to you, already mentally going over what he would have to do to charm you into doing everything on your own “Y/N?” he called and you raised your head.

You were pretty, he noticed with satisfaction, all bright eyes and lovely features, curves everywhere he looked “Yes?”

“I’m Jungkook.” he extended his hand with a casual smirk “The professor put us together for this project.”

There had been a small, but pleasant and polite smile on your face up until he said those words, replaced by pursed lips and an arched brow. “Yes, I know. We’ve had classes together for over a year now and been partnered together before.”

Uh oh. “Right” he coughed awkwardly, fumbling under your hardened stare “so, about this project…”

“We will meet once a week,” you said, straightforward as you turned your eyes back to your sticker-filled IPad “I will go over the theme and split the work evenly, so give me your number and I can text you with what you’re supposed to do.”

“Woah, woah, asking for my number already?” he said in a flirting manner, sitting on top of your table so he could be directly in front of you.

“Would you prefer it if I emailed it to you?” you asked without looking up.

“Actually, I was thinking you could help me out a bit,” he placed his finger under your chin, raising your face towards him “you know I have soccer practice and…”

You pushed his hand away “Unless you’re playing at the World Cup, I can’t see how that would be more important than your studies, so you either do your part of the assignment or get an F in it, I don’t care. I won’t do all the work for you, Jeon. Not again.”

Again? Jungkook winced, trying to remember when you had met before. Surely he would remember getting his head bitten off by a snappy, pretty thing like you, wouldn’t he? Surely your attitude would stand out to him amongst all the sweetness and compliance he received just for existing and smiling.

“Here’s my number.” you gave him a piece of paper with your digits written in gel sparkly ink “Text me when you decide if you want to pass this class. Good day.” 

You looked down again, going back to your notes, signing that the conversation was over before he even had the chance to add anything more. He jumped off the desk and stepped away, looking back to see if you were looking at him, but there wasn’t a single glance from your part.

Shit. Shit. He actually did have to pass this class, otherwise his overbearing soccer coach would kick him off the team. He stared down at your number, wondering what he would have to do to get you to cut him a little slack and forgive him for absolutely forgetting about your existence. 

—

“Hey, this is Jungkook” the text from an unknown number said “looking forward to us working together. We should get dinner sometime, get to know each other better.”

You read over the text once more, willing your heart to slow down its beating. Sure, Jungkook was charming and handsome, but you had seen this dance before. He would talk his way into your good graces, making you laugh and giggle until you had a four thousand word essay done with both your names in it and your texts to him would go unanswered and unseen. 

This was not your first hurtful rodeo. You put your phone away, facing down, ignoring as the poor device vibrated itself off the table with the upcoming texts.

Meanwhile, across campus, Jungkook was fuming.

“Or breakfast. We should get breakfast. I know a great place.” he tried once again, but his message was left unread. Still, he persisted.

“I have a lot of great ideas for this assignment. Don’t you want to know them?” he texted, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea on what the assignment was even about.

“You know, it’s rude to leave a guy hanging.”

“How can we do this if you won’t even text me back?”

“I thought we were in this together.”

“You know, like High School Musical.”

He kept typing out absurdity after absurdity, hoping you would dignify one with an answer. He just needed one opportunity, one opening…

His text stopped going through.

“She blocked me!” he gasped out loud.

“Who?” his roommate, Taehyung asked from where he laid on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“This girl in my class. We have this project together and she blocked me!”

Taehyung sent a disbelieving look his way “Were you actually planning to do the work?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously not.”

His friend rolled his eyes “Obviously not. So what’s your plan here?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, too busy looking for alternative ways to contact you. After a few minutes of research, he found your Instagram. You were cute, he noticed again, scrolling through your few posts, all relatively recent. You had a very specific style, a tasteful mix or dark and edgy with splashes of pink and bows, tight corsets under leather jackets that he couldn’t help but stare appreciatively, the flattering material clinging to your waist line and pushing your breasts up, exposing the soft freckled top of cleavage to his always hungry eyes. In your pictures, your eyes shone brightly, crinkling at the sides from your ever present smile and he could not understand why you hadn’t directed one of those to him. 

It was unsettling, to say the least, but he could not allow his annoyance to take over. He needed your help if he wanted to pass that class and if he had to use unconventional ways to get your attention, he would. 

And so, much like a little boy pulling at a girl’s braids, he started liking and spamming the comments of every single post you had.

—

There were whispers all around you, your worst nightmare.

You were at the school library, getting work done while drinking from your fourth cup of coffee, hands shaking due to caffeine and anxiety, your ever present friends. You tried to focus on your books and carefully written notes, but every word you could barely hear and every look you felt over your shoulder seemed to dig claws into your skin. You knew what they were saying. You heard it all the way from your dorm to your classes and couldn’t seem to escape them. 

“Did you see Jungkook’s comments on her pictures? What’s that about?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot to comment, is there?” 

“Maybe he thought it was someone else?”

“It’s probably a prank.”

“I bet he was hacked.”

Of course, why else would someone like Jungkook - a campus prince, popular soccer player, heartthrob - show interest in you? 

It hurt, but a small part of you still agreed with those mean spirited whispers. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing and will those thoughts away. You knew better, had learned better than to measure your value by how interested some boy was in you.

When you opened your eyes again, Jungkook was in front of you.

You barely had time to process his presence when the voices picked up volume, your skin prickling and eyes aching to remain dry. 

“What’s Jungkook doing with Fat Y/N?”

That word shouldn’t be as hurtful as it was - after all, it was just an adjective, just the current state of your body that served only to carry your thinking mind, your feeling heart. But people always said it like a curse, wielding it like a sword.

You closed your eyes again and when you opened once more, Jungkook was still there. Looking furious.

“What are they saying?”

“What they always said” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking down at your papers.

Jungkook didn’t move for a while, hearing people pretend to whisper around you but it was clear that the motherfuckers wanted you to hear. Was it always like this for you, he wondered, watching as you focused on whatever book you had in front of you, hunched over with tense shoulders, your face a far cry from the luminescent one he saw on your Instagram, not a hint of that smile he wanted directed at him so unreasonably.

He couldn’t just stand there and watch you struggle to keep your posture. 

You felt him standing up and leaving more than you saw him. Good, you thought. He should leave, like everyone did, scared away by that one word that followed you around like a brand. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you, you assumed bitterly, and there was no place in your life for people who didn’t want you proudly by your side…

Jungkook sat back in the chair in front of you and you couldn’t help but gape at the impressive bouquet of red daisies he extended towards you.

“Take it” he said, but you couldn’t move, could barely hear the furious voices around you over the roaring beat of your heart.

You… You had never gotten flowers. 

“Take it” he repeated “I almost got run over because of this, the least you can do is accept it.”

“Jungkook” you whispered, dumbfoundedly accepting the bouquet “what’s this?”

“People keep doubting I could be interested in you” he said and there was an edge to his tone you did not expect “maybe this could help clear up some rumors.”

“This is not your battle to fight” you held the flowers close to your chest carefully, looking up at him with distrust, unable to understand his motives “I’m used to this sort of thing and I don’t care about those stupid rumors.”

You were used to it? That just made Jungkook angrier. How could you be used to that sort of treatment? 

Jungkook was a lot of things - spoiled, a little lazy, sometimes a dick. But he wasn’t a bigot and he wasn’t about to stand around and let you become used to being disrespected if there was something - anything! - he could do about it “I like picking up fights”.

“Is this just pity?” you asked and he could see walls around you that stood thousands of feet tall “Is this because of that stupid assignment? Because I’m not going to do all the work just because you got me some flowers…” 

He raised his hands and smiled at you “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll do my work” he said, a new goal in mind as he saw you recoil from him with eyes filled with wariness like a suspicious kitten “You said once a week, right? How’s friday for you?” 

You still clung to your bouquet like a lifeline “That works, I guess.”

“Great!” he clapped loudly, standing up and catching the eye of those around him “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart” you mumbled, but he pretended not to hear as he crossed the table around to your side, quickly leaving a kiss to your heated cheek before you had the chance to react.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll see you around” he said, making sure everyone in the library could hear him “do me a favor and unblock me, ok?”

You flipped him off, both for stealing a kiss and that stupid nickname, but he just laughed it off.

“That’s my girl” he said and the library erupted in renewed whispers.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

°•. ✿ .•°

[Red Daisies taglist: @purplelady85 ]

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ; @betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ; @kayleefriedchicken ; @jkselcouth ; @ivrose21 ; @svnbangtansworld ]

[patdkoala]

I Don't Hate You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, enemies to lovers, smut, nicknames (Doll and Charming), unprotected p in v, masturbation (Fem), Oral (Fem receiving)

I'm not entirely convinced that Bucky doesn't hate me.

His resting face is also his angry face. And he's always looking at me in that tone.

Like right now. He was just sitting there staring at me.

"What?" I asked while looking up at him.

"Nothing, just... thinking."

"About?"

"You wouldn't want to know."

Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"Try me," I said to try and get something, anything, out of him.

"Don't push it, kid."

Oh, I hate it when he calls me that.

I grit my teeth. "Fine, don't tell me. I don't care anymore.

"Fine by me." His tone was sharp. He spoke with such anger towards me and I didn't know what I ever did to him.

Bucky is handsome, sure. He's tall and largely built. The metal arm alone scares away almost everyone.

But there is something about him that I find incredibly charming.

But in a stuck-up asshole Prince Charming way.

"Whatever, Charming," I sneered back at him.

Bucky scoffed when I called him that. "Charming?"

"Yeah, you know because you are a jerk like Prince Charming," I said as I got up from the couch and poured myself a drink.

"Hey, at least I own up to it. Unlike some people, who think they're God's gift to womankind," He said as I nearly killed him right then and there.

"I AM! Have you seen this ass? And my tits? These are fantastic. You just wish you were one of the many men I have that get to touch me."

"You're as shallow as a kiddie pool."

"Confident. I'm confident. Not my fault you cry when you look in the mirror."

He sighed and I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile. "I don't know why I waste my time with you. I could find a rock with more personality than you."

I had had it with him. He is such an asshole.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you. Hating you would mean I loved you at one point and grew to hate you. I can't stand you."

"Wow. Fantastic. How about I go outside and help you find a rock with a great personality?"

"Be my guest."

I set down my drink and walked towards the door. He was standing in front of it.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. What are you doing?"

"Getting a rock. What does it look like?"

"No you're not," He said in a stern tone.

"What are you saying?" I was so confused. First, he wants the rock. Now he doesn't.

"You're not going outside to find a rock," He said it but it felt like a demand.

"I'm not?"

"No. You are not."

"Are you asking me not to? Or telling me not to?"

"I'm telling you."

oh

My breath caught in my throat as he just stared at me. There he was. Again. Just staring at me.

"What is going on in that mind of yours?" I asked with actual curiosity.

"You really wanna know?" He asked as interest peaked in me.

I couldn't even speak I was so excited. I just nodded like a mindless bimbo.

He got closer only to whisper, "I'm trying to figure out why in the hell I haven't left you in the middle of the woods yet."

Asshole.

I pushed him back against the door but not in a flirty way. More of a shove before storming off.

He doesn't even flinch. He just glares at me as I storm off.

I go to my room to cool off. I obviously like him but he doesn't like me and I am just going to have to deal with it.

I decided to work out. I needed to get this fire out of my system. I blasted my music into my headphones as I started my routine.

The workout wasn't working. I needed to matters into my own hands. Or, hand.

I made sure my door was locked and when I did I saw Bucky in the living room doing push-ups. He was trying to cool off as well.

I am going to make his life very hard. Well, and something else.

I sat on my bed and slipped a hand into my shorts. I started off slow but then built up tension.

My fingers felt nice but they weren't him.

"Oh, Bucky~" I moaned quietly as I came.

That was when I heard the knock.

I got up and opened the door.

"I hope you didn't think I didn't hear anything."

"Oh, but I was intentionally being loud for you, Charming." I smiled as I raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you were."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, actually."

"What is it now? Gonna tell me how much you hate me? How much you wish I was dead? Or maybe-" "I was just going to ask that you keep it down when you finger yourself."

"Seriously? That's it? No snide comments?"

"Don't temp me."

"Oh, but it's my favorite thing to do!" I whined.

He just stared at me. Again. So, I stared back. He turned around and walked away. I rolled my eyes and followed him.

"Do you seriously have to follow me everywhere?"

"No. But I just want you to tell me the truth." I said as I followed after him.

"What truth? That you're a pain in my ass? That I want nothing more than to ditch you?"

I was actually hurt this time. "Is that actually true?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Because I need you to be very honest with me, Barnes. If that is really how you feel then I will just head out and you will never have to see me ever again."

"Fucking guilt-tripping. You're not gonna leave, and you know it."

"Watch me." I felt the fire inside me rise.

"Oh please, spare me. I know you. You wouldn't make it a week on your own."

I rolled my eyes. "And why is that? Why do you think I need you all the time?" I was practically screaming at him at this point.

"You are the most dependent person I have ever met. You would die without me."

I thought for a second. "No. No, I think it's the other way around. You'd die without me and you just don't want to admit it. I swear you are such an asshole."

"And I think you are in denial. That's why you cling to me so much because you hate being alone with yourself."

I scoff. "I think you are forgetting how okay I was with myself not too long ago in that bedroom in my own hands."

"Oh yes. I remember. You were so "okay" you were grunting and groaning for half an hour." He paused and took a breath. "You want the truth? I'll give it to you. Right now. You're a spoiled, ungrateful, whiny, little bitch," He said I was slightly taken aback but I didn't flinch.

"Oh, come on. Say it like you mean it." I roll my eyes one last time.

"You'll be back here in a day you useless piece of-"

"Save it. I'm leaving."

"Fine."

I went to my room and honest to God packed a bag.

I went back towards the front door and saw that Bucky hadn't moved. I lifted my hand to the handle. I was going so slow a snail could have stopped me.

I wanted Bucky to speak up and say something. Stop me from leaving. But he just stood there.

Then he cleared his throat.

"Oh, this should be good. What is it now?"

"Please... don't go..."

I was speechless.

"Give me one reason. One honest reason to stay," I finally spoke.

"Because..." he doesn't continue.

"Exactly. That's why I'm leaving. You only want to fight me when I'm here but you won't fight for me to stay."

"Don't go. Please," He said in a breathy sentence.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to go."

I didn't know what to say. He was just staring at me. Again. I swear to God this guy has got a problem.

Except this time he looked vulnerable.

Helpless.

Needy.

"Are you asking me to stay? Or telling me."

"I'm fucking begging you."

I dropped my bag and turned around so that I was standing closer to him. It was taking everything in me not to pounce on this man and rip his clothes off of him.

We were so close that I felt his breath hitch.

Say something God Damnit!

He didn't say a thing.

He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into a kiss.

"I- I thought you hated me," I said in a breathless sentence.

"I do." He said as he brought his mouth to my neck.

I moaned as he touched me so feverly. I had never felt something like this before.

The passion. The rage. The fire.

He pulled me closer as if it was even fucking possible, and he started to kiss down my collarbone.

"Bedroom- the bedroom-" I stuttered out.

Bucky smiled in a way I had never seen before. He had mischief in his eyes. He picked me up and carried me to my room.

He put me on the bed and crawled on top of me.

Mother fucking Bucky Barnes was crawling on top of me.

He held our gaze as he removed my shorts and soaked panties.

He held our gaze as he moved to the edge of the bed and sunk his teeth into my inner thigh.

The only time he looked away was when his head was too far buried in my cunt to even notice his surroundings.

I tugged on his hair and tried to pull him closer. I was so close to coming and we were only on that bed for maybe 6 minutes.

"I know, Doll," He said as chills went down my spine.

I wanted more.

"Mhmmm," I moaned out at the empty feeling as he got off me and then he removed his shirt.

I sat up and ran a hand down his chest.

The muscles.

The scars.

The happy trail.

The sweat.

I wanted to lick him.

As my hand was gliding down his glistening chest, he removed his belt and pants.

He was so hard that part of him was poking out of his boxers.

"That looks painful," I said as he slowly pushed me back onto the bed.

"You have no idea what I have been going through all day today," He said as he pushed his knee between my legs to spread them apart.

"All day?" I questioned.

"When you asked me what was on my mind while I was staring at you from the couch. I was thinking about how hard my dick was and what it would feel like inside you," He said as he moved his boxers down just enough to get free.

I kissed him roughly and bit his bottom lip as he lowered himself into me softly so I could adjust to his size.

He then held onto one of my legs. "What-"

"I need to get a better angle." He said as I felt like I was splitting apart.

I moaned so loud as he started thrusting into me. Hard.

His hips snapped so fast and the whole bed shook.

He was the one grunting and groaning now.

"Oh, Bucky~" I moaned out again but this time with him inside me. Happily.

"No, use the nickname," He said as I smiled. "I did. Bucky-" He stuck a finger inside just to hit my clit.

"Charming!" I yelped out as felt myself getting closer and closer.

His hips started faltering and my legs were starting to tremble.

"I- 'm close Doll," Bucky moaned out as I sat up a little more so he could really get up in there.

"Me too, Charming," I said as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I think I hit a nerve with that last one.

I moaned so loudly as I came around him. He came very soon after. I think the feeling of me pulsing around him was too much for him.

He pulled out and then cleaned us off with the henley he had thrown off.

He laid down next to me and pulled me close so my back was to his chest.

"Do you still want me to go find you a rock?" I asked as he laughed.

"You are insufferable."

[redr0sewrites]

Can you write Vox x reader where like the reader just says like really unhinged things and just like vile things whenever they rage and stuff like the internet could be slow or smth and the reader is just like “IM GOING TO RIP OFF MY SKIN” idk man I’m kinda just self projecting rn like you can right anything with it tbh idk sorry for rambling anyway you don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna

THIS IS SO MEEEEE I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to reply to this i have over 70 hazbin hotel requests in my inbox 😭

🥀Cw: fluff, crack, silly vox

when he first met you, vox was charmed by your seemingly sweet nature- that is, until you were pissed

your unholy screech of how you were going to rip off your skin if he cut the wifi again was both endearing and confusing in his eyes

vox would just short circuit for a second, just blinking at you while he tries to process what you just said

once it clicks, he just starts giggling. vox very rarely genuinely laughs, most of his laughs are professional or part of the persona he adopts as the leader of vox enterprises, but when he's so shocked by what you just said, he can't control the booming laughter thay fills the room

he's wheezing and gasping, each barking laugh only pissing you off more

"what's so funny? if you keep laughing i am going to fucking break ur fingers like carrot sticks!" you snap, and vox only giggles harder

after a few seconds, you can't help but notice how adorable his laughter is, and soon you don't mind it as much

once you two are officially together, you notice how stressed vox often is, yet how he seems to visibly relax around you

the batshit crazy things you say, which normally disgusts other people, only seem to amuse him

its actually a wonderful dynamic because you bring some spontaneity and slight insanity into vox's otherwise irritating and depressing lifestyle, and vox balances out the crazy things you say and calms you down every time

you often find yourself searching for new phrases to baffle him with, and for new ways to make him laugh

after vox has a stressful day, he enjoys just listening to you ramble about the most insane things and adores hearing whatever fucked up saying you've adopted recently

vox notices himself beginning to copy your speech patterns. he only begins to realize when he slips in an exceptionally odd metaphor into a work meeting and everyone stares at him, yet his heart skips a beat at the thought

there's something so charming to him about the fact that he's adopting your mannerisms, and you truly make him laugh when no one else can

whenever another one of the vees pisses him off, he always comes to you for advice on incredibly deranged comebacks, and you never disappoint!

he's won multiple arguments by just repeating one of your fucked up sayings and the other vees being too lowkey shocked to disagree

vox LOVES IT when you diss people he hates, hearing you ramble some fucked up insults about alastor made him fall in love with you all over again

"that worm on a string fucked up karen cut bob looking ass- if i see him around here again im going to eat a fucking brick" *cue vox looking at you with the biggest heart eyes*

overall, you are both menaces, but you're menaces in love ♥️

vox lay with his head in your lap, the blue light of his screen illuminating the dim room as you rambled mindlessly about your day.

"and THEN, this fucking asshole tried to flirt with me! ME!! as if he doesn't know were dating! ugh, it makes me feel like i have an entire beehive living beneath my skin. i swear if he even looks at me again im going to lick wet cement i can NOT deal. how can you even work with him? he's such a fucking CREEP voxy, i'm going to cut off those ugly ass wings and shove them so far down his throat- hey, are you even listening?"

you look down to see vox half asleep, his eyelids drooping as his light dimmed. "keep talking.." he murmurs, looking up at you with a lazy smile on his face. "you're my favorite person t' listen to.."

i love the idea of vox with a partner who challenges his very idea of power. he clearly wraps himself in a sort of persona, surrounding himself with powerful people and acting like he's so serious and important. i love the idea of him falling in love with someone who can break down his walls in seconds, someone who can dismantle his entire bravado act and who allows him to truly be himself. this is such a wonderful prompt and i am eating this up. nonnie ur awesome!!!!

[mcflymemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

it's been my experience when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.

i sleep in the nude.

about time someone hit him. i'm sorry it wasn't me.

i didn't say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing.

i came down the chimney. ho ho ho.

we've done a lot of things we're not proud of. robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking... but nobody got hurt.

maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we knew.

will you look at the size of this? it's gotta be half a mile high at least.

our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.

you're so skinny, if you turned sideways and stuck out your tongue, you'd look like a zipper.

hey look, i made a bridge.

as far as me goes, i just like to blow things up.

come on. tell the kid the truth.

does it match my dress?

it was like a sign from god.

i got your four basic food groups: beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard.

you have disturbed the dirt.

what have you done?

if you give back every stolen artifact from a museum, you'd be left with an empty building.

i gotta admit, i'm disappointed.

you ask too many questions!

who are you? who sent you?

do not be such a crybaby.

now tell me your story, my little friend.

trust me on this one. you don't wanna know.

if you're looking for the pony rides, they're back there.

what else have you got in there?

forget your jammies, [name]?

you're gonna want a pair of these.

i think we've seen how effective my decisions have been.

have i left anything out?

you did set the camp on fire and drop us down that big hole.

i took this job when my dad retired.

you are a scholar, are you not?

who told you that?

let's go over it again, just so we got it straight.

we're all gonna die.

someone needs to talk to that girl.

for the good of the mission, i will go!

tonight's supper will be baked beans. musical program to follow.

hey, i had nothing to do with it.

i'll have to quit my job.

you didn't just drink that, did you?

don't move, don't breathe, don't do anything...

carrots? why it it always carrots?

with something like that, i would have white wine.

we can't let him do this!

okay, now you can go.

how was my accent?

we are not thriving.

where are you going?

don't take no for an answer.

look, i have some questions for you, and i'm not leaving this city until they're answered.

somebody's gonna have to suck out this poison.

i thought you said he only had guns!

mercenary? i prefer the term "adventure capitalist."

do you wanna do my job? be my guest.

i'm gonna need you to fill these up.

thank god i lost my sense of taste years ago.

why don't you translate, and i'll wave the gun around.

this was not part of the plan.

you do swim, do you not?

your heart has softened.

you would have slain them on sight.

what they have to teach us, we have already learned.

something wrong with your neck?

so i guess this is how it ends? fine. you win.

get back! i've got soap, and i'm not afraid to use it!

look at all those tattoos!

i've got a bone to pick with you.

any last words?

i really wish i had a better idea than this.

i know i'm forgetting something.

you're the one who got us here.

you must've read it a dozen times by now.

sometimes i get a little carried away.

all will be well. be not afraid.

i hate fishing. i hate fish. hate the taste, hate the smell, hate all them little bones.

you will not regret this!

hard to believe he's still single.

can you drive a truck?

no time like the present.

i love it when we win.

you pick now of all times to grow a conscience?

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter i: ahoy! ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

warning: slight cussing, time travel confusion.

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The next day you wake up, you felt weird textures coming up to your nose. It felt like… dust. You woke yourself up by sneezing hard, first sneeze of the day. What else felt off? It was your room that was being quiet different… Scratch that, it was completely different from when you slept on last night. The room that Mrs. Byers made you sleep in for the rest of your exchange days, the once nice purple room with soft bed, now turned into a horrifying, messy, and filled with dust.

You unlocked your phone to look for any notifications

9.13 P.M. Friday, 27th June 2025 No new notifications

P.M? But the sun is literally shining outside? And Friday is yesterday... Today's supposed to be Saturday? Things are starting to feel off, so you stood up and went out of the house.

The once beautiful house seems to be... Abandoned, now. All glass are falling out of it's place, boards covering some of the window and doors. It looks like there's no one ever lived on this place. You kept looking around in confusion as you went out of the house, coughing like a sick maniac.

"What the hell?"

You started walking down the neigborhood, passing all these big houses along the way. This still looks like Hawkins, though... But, something feels different. Seeing all the people dress weirdly like they're in some kind of cosplay event.

As you kept walking, the town starts to get crowded. Looking at these people give you the creeps, but what actually gives you the chills are the fact that lots of people stare at you as you walk. You don't feel like you're dressing weird, you feel normal. Black T-shirt, baggy jeans, and red converse, with a dark red flannel, yet these people just can't take their eyes off your, like you just comitted some murder.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✧˖°.

You saw a building in front of you.

STARCOURT MALL

A neon sign says above the mall's entrance. The neon signs was already lit up even though it was still... Probably like 10 or 11 A.M? You don't really know what time is it now, since the clock on your phone basically stopped at 9 at night.

The whole vibe of the mall felt off. It’s like… you’re in the backrooms… Might as well watch too much TikTok videos, you thought. But, you were actually convincing yourself that al this doesn’t seem right. It felt like a dream. Well, at least your phone’s clock stopping is a sign that you’re dreaming, it doesn’t make any sense, right?

The mall was filled with people and shoppers of all ages, it was like the mall was just opened a couple of days ago. You really want to ask the people here about where you are and why do these people dress weirdly.

scratch that.

You only want to ask about where you are right now. Even though this whole places does look like Hawkins, but it doesn’t feel like Hawkins. Sadly, your urge to ask the people around you isn’t strong enough, compared by how these people look like they’re enjoying their time at the mall. You don’t wanna be some party pooper who just ask random people a nonsense question and ruin their mood. Until finally, you found a not-so-busy ice cream store.

The yellow colored sign with blue background, that was surrounded by red light edges says

SCOOPS AHOY ice cream parlor

You saw a guy, leaning on the counter, as if he’s so done with his job. You decided to ask the guy about your question(s) earlier since he doesn’t look so busy.

“Ahoy, there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain… I’m Steve Harrington.”

His sudden ice cream jingle scared the shit out of you, it made you widening your eyes at him.

“Hi, uhm… mind telling me where am i now?”

"You're in Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor, ma'am... How may I help you?" The man answered your stupid question with a bored tone. Geez, he must hate his job so much, huh?

"No, I mean... Where am I excatly now?"

The man in front of you squinted his eyes, like he's being suspicious with me.

"You're in Hawkins, Indiana. The United States of America." He responded once again, as if I have no idea where Hawkins is. So this is actually Hawkins? Indiana? Why so different?

You looked around the ice cream shop, leaving the man staring at you in confusion. You pay attention to every detail in it like some kind of detective trying to solve a murder mystery, even if you can still feel the man's eyes on you through your every move.

"Ma'am, are you okay? You need help with anything?"

"No, no... I'm fine, don't worry." Your voice says otherwise, though.

Your eyes finally stopped at the box shaped television on the counter, showing a news broadcast about the newly builded mall, this Starcourt Mall.

"...the year 1985 will surely be a memorable year for us, the people of Hawkins, getting a chance to witness and experience the beautiful Starcourt Mall..."

You felt like your head was spinning when you hear the words: 1985.

“Ma'am, are you sure you’re okay? or do i need to call a doctor?” His face is fully concerned of your well being right now. Instead of answering him, your eyes travelled from the television back to the man's direction.

“What year is it now?"

“it’s 1985? duh..?”

And that's the moment when you knew.

You are doomed.

note: finally, the first chapter's here! i really, reaaallyyyyy hope y'all like it! i'll make sure to post daily since i also need to catch up with some school stuff here. if there's any confusion about this whole time travel thingy (trust me, i was also pretty confused with my own thoughts) feel free to ask! and feel free to request to be on my taglist! happy reading <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head. 

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today." 

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you." 

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow." 

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping." 

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos. 

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you. 

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful." 

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower. 

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks. 

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it. 

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously. 

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me." 

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh. 

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently. 

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep. 

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly. 

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne." 

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General. 

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants. 

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?" 

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg. 

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened. 

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly." 

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek. 

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up." 

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise. 

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers? 

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan. 

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.  

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say. 

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again. 

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying. 

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say. 

"He sounds like you." 

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle. 

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists. 

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of. 

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry." 

"You think so?" you ask. 

"I think the solution is the same, too." 

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry." 

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean. 

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question). 

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in. 

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms? 

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more. 

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably. 

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm. 

You hesitate. "Are you okay?" 

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?" 

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts. 

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately. 

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever." 

"What do you think?" you ask softly. 

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious. 

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days." 

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?" 

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?" 

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast." 

"I can wait." 

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?" 

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me." 

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork. 

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it. 

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough. 

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird." 

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it." 

"It's a mess?" you ask. 

"It's perfect." 

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully. 

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing. 

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips. 

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly. 

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me." 

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more. 

"He's… I'm just not…" 

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth." 

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble. 

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–" 

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face. 

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind." 

"But he is perfect," you say. 

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–" 

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion." 

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek. 

"My dork," you murmur. 

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey." 

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility." 

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too." 

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!