#Turning off rbs for a bit on this one

[shithowdy]

wishing people would understand (and advertisers would stop giving the impression) that herbal remedies don't actually work like fantasy potions where you have a Symptom and they magically target that Symptom specifically-- they work exactly like pharmaceutical medicines but at a less concentrated scale, and it can interact poorly with them if you are already using them.

ashwagandha doesn't "lower your anxiety", it reduces your cortisol levels, which can in turn lower your blood pressure and interact with other adrenal and BP meds. ginkgo doesn't "help you think", it dilates your blood vessels and is an anti-platelet, which increases cerebral bloodflow but can interact with other circulatory meds. grapefruit seed extract is an incredible antifungal but it will inhibit enzymes that break down many types of medication and lead to blood toxicity of those meds.

i've worked in this industry since before insta/tiktok was a major force in advertising for it and i've watched the swing from people generally being educated about this niche thing they have come in to buy to "i saw on tiktok that this will give me energy"

.... will it? have you had bloodwork done? are you adequately absorbing your nutrition? are you getting sunlight? stop being scammed by symptom-centric buzzwords. anything that promises it will give you energy or help you focus or whatever else hinges entirely on your body chemistry fitting very certain criteria and a lot of people end up disappointed when that cordyceps did nothing for them when it turns out they're low on stomach acid and not synthesizing their B vitamins correctly or something else that is way above my paygrade to determine.

the american healthcare system is a shitshow and people often have no choice but to take their treatments into their own hand, but "natural remedies" want your money just as bad as "big pharma" and it's up to the individual to do their epistemological due diligence when treating themselves. godbless.

[jaredwormsboyslizardsquad]

Aromantic Squad I need your help because words fail me. Describe the difference between a Normal Friendship, a Squish (a crush but for desire to be homies), and a QPR (if that's thing you do/consider). Thank you.

[lesbiancarat]

want to give my two cents on the AI usage in the maestro trailer--

i think seventeen doing a whole concept that is anti-AI is very cool, especially as creatives themselves i think it's good that they're speaking up against it and i hope it gets more ppl talking about the issue. i also understand on a surface level the artistic choice (whether it was made by the members, the mv director, or whoever else), to directly use AI in contrast to real, human-made visuals and music in order to criticize it. i also appreciate that they clearly stated the intention of the use of AI at the beginning of the video

however, although i understand it to an extent, i do not agree with the choice to use AI to critique AI. one of the main ethical concerns with generative AI is that it is trained on other artists' work without their knowledge, consent, or compensation. and even when AI generated images are being used to critique AI, it still does not negate this particular ethical concern

the use of AI to critique also does not negate the fact that this is work that could have been done by an actual artist. i have seen some people argue that it's okay in this context because it's a critique specifically about AI, and it is content that never would have been done by a real artist anyway because it doesn't make sense for the story they're trying to tell. but i disagree. i think you can still tell the exact same story without using AI

and in fact, i would argue that it would make the anti-AI message stronger if they HAD paid an artist to draw/animate the scenes that are supposed to represent AI generated images. wouldn't it just be proof that humans can create images that are just as bad and nonsensical and soulless as AI, but that AI can't replicate the creativity and beauty and basic fucking anatomy that's in human-made art?

it feels very obvious this was not just a way to cut corners and costs like a lot of scummy people are using AI for. ultimately it was a very intentional creative decision, i just personally think it was a very poor one. and even if some ethical considerations were taken into account before this decision, i certainly don't think all of them were. at the very least i feel like the decision undermines the message they want to convey

i would also like to recognize that i myself am not an artist, and i have seen some artists that are totally on board with the use of AI in this specific context, so clearly this is not a topic that is cut and dry. but generative AI is still new, and i think it's important to keep having these conversations

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Sometimes you will watch a video and the person making it will go on a tangent about how "weird" a spelling vs pronunciation of a thing is and you just have to sit there and

[lunar-fey]

TRANS GENDER CAT

[beananium]

"this character isn't even fat, they look fine" what if i tear you to pieces with my bare teeth and hands

all body types are fine! weather the character is actually fat or not they look fine! they would look fine no matter what! gah! not everything is made to be cookie cutter thin, white, and sexy !!! variety is good dipshit. its how we survive, and this goes the same for character design.

yeah you don't have to be attracted to fat people, your fuckin loss i guess. but to imply that being fat is a natural fault in people's appearance is just really shitty. i shouldn't have to say making fun of people's appearances is a crappy thing to do, and yet i see it time and time again where people think its ok to do so just because "ooooob they did it to themselves" when. even if they did, that does not give you an excuse to be a fucking dumpster person.

[tonaldissonance]

i love watching ace attorney playthroughs but whenever someone complains about some court thing being inaccurate or a character being kinda rude or goofy it just feels like theyre getting mad at bugs bunny for hitting daffy duck with an oversized frying pan or something

[keeps-ache]

many notifs, but i sigh

[venomroses]

okay I Thiiink I've posted a bit about zones fashion before but it was mostly killjoy-based and there's a large portion of the zones that aren't killjoys so!! more zones fashion!!

Theres a subsection of non-killjoy zonedwellers who rebel against the city like killjoys, but most non-killjoys don't do this. I'm mostly gonna focus on them for this post anyway

So the differences in fashion are very much tied to the styles of fighting. Killjoys rely heavily on aesthetics as their form of rebellion. That's not to say they never get into fights, of course, just like that's not to say that non-killjoys never use aesthetics as part of their rebellion. But it's a much bigger part of their brand of rebellion than for non-killjoys. this is where you get the hairdye, makeup, and brightly colored clothing. I think we all get how killjoys dress so I won't go into much more detail.

For non-killjoys, they rely heavily on killjoys drawing all the attention to themselves so they can work anonymously. Their clothing is far less flashy, and often far more practical. common colors are gray, tan, and brown. black is usually avoided because it draws heat in and white is avoided because it's likely make people assume you're with the company. clothes are also very loose, but tight around the wrists and sometimes ankles to keep them from getting in the way, and to help keep sand out. a lot of clothes are tailored to have straps or buttons around those areas, but if not it's not uncommon to use tape or to just tuck it into your boots.

hoods, hats, and other headgear to keep the sun off your face and neck is very common. its not uncommon to use whatever decent-sized pieces of cloth you can get your hands on as a hood by wrapping it whatever way is gonna keep you covered and pinning it in place.

like killjoys, non-killjoys often have outfits for times when theyre not fighting, but where a lot of killjoys have less practical outfits for these times, that's not the case for most non-killjoys. plain t-shirts, jeans, and leather or denim jackets are common, and that's about as close to dressing like a killjoy they'll get. these are usually similar colors to their fighting clothes.

[no-144444]

the grid reacts: getting caught making out!

featuring: Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

-------------------

Oscar Piastri 

It was just meant to be a small peck, but then he wrapped his arms around you, and it escalated. It had all started with a tiny peck, just before you left his driver’s room to leave him time alone before the race, but Oscar had very persuasive lips (and a very persuasive tongue). He lifted you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he deepened the kiss, holding you impossibly close. Then he sat down on his physio table, making you straddle him as you got as turned on as he was. You two had time, right? His hands grabbed anywhere and everywhere, exploring your body, despite knowing it so well. You whimpered into his mouth as he squeezed your ass, making you jolt forward. He smirked as you pulled back, throwing him a look of annoyance. 

“Let me kiss it better?” he smirked and you playfully hit his chest, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. "I love you."

“Oscar! We’ve been calling you for-” Lando’s voice rang out as you scrambled to get off of him, but Lando had already seen. You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed and trying not to laugh as Oscar pulled his cap off of his head and covered his bulge. Lando burst out laughing, nearly falling to the floor as he realised what he’d walked in on, and you got up to leave, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and giving Lando a kick on your way out. 

You: We are never doing that again. Top 10 most embarrassing moments of my life. 

Oscar: Ok WatchMojo. 

You: Sassy man apocalypse. 

-------------------

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a horny man after races. No matter how tired he was, he had to have you. That’s how you ended up in his driver’s room with his lips on yours. He was intoxicating. His sounds, his lips, his tongue. Everything. 

“Mon coeur,” he bit down softly on your collarbone. “Tu es trop belle pour être vraie-” (you are too beautiful to be true)

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me Charles,” you said, out of breath. He had a habit of trying to take things slowly, especially in risky places. You were almost sure he had a thing for doing it in public. He smirked down at you and pressed his lips to your again, using one hand to start to undo your trousers. 

Suddenly the door flew open and you both sat up, hitting your head off of the other’s head, both of you groaning out in pain. 

“Connerie,” he hissed, holding his forehead. 

“Motherfuck!” you groaned as Arthur stared at the two of you dumbfounded, his cheeks red. 

“I’ll just… come back later,” he said, then closed the door behind him. 

“We’ve just traumatised your little brother,” you sighed, hiding your face in the nape of his neck. 

“He will survive,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Too bad my pride didn’t,” you added, making him laugh. God, you loved his laugh. 

-------------------

Daniel Riccardo 

He was a slick bastard. One ‘I need help with my suit babe’  and there you were in his driver’s room, your shirt being pulled off and new hickies being left over the fading ones. It had been 2 weeks since you’d seen Daniel, too busy to come to the last race, and then you were travelling for a friend’s wedding. Now you were back, and Daniel was planning on showing you just how much he missed you, 40 minutes before the race started, aka, when he was already supposed to be in the damn car. 

“Daniel, we should stop just-” You started, thinking about someone walking in on you two. Sadly RB didn’t give their driver’s fucking locks on their doors, probably because of Baku 2018… yeah, you and Daniel weren’t exactly quiet, and he wasn’t exactly happy after that race. “Slow down.”

He pulled back, smirking up at you. “Baby, come on, we have a bunch of time, and I haven’t seen you in 2 whole weeks, who’s going to walk in?”

You nodded and pressed your lips to his again, allowing your conscience to fall away with the way he was kissing you. Kissing Daniel was like nothing else. Everything else fell away, there was only him. 

But who would walk in? Yuki, probably. 

“Daniel- WOAH! LOCK THE DOOR!” he screamed, alerting the entire motorhome of your actions. You quickly pulled your shirt back over your head as he ran out. As Daniel laughed for a solid minute, you tried to get over your loss of dignity. Yuki sure did make things interesting.

“I have no lock arsehole!” Daniel laughed. 

“You do! It’s the weird thing above the handle!” One of the mechanics shouted back. You walked over to the door, turning the thing above the handle, and the door locked. Daniel laughed even harder. 

Once you finally stopped Daniel from laughing, you both walked out to the whole team clapping and whooping. 

Yeah, not your finest moment. 

-------------------

George Russell

His stupid dumb pretty face. He just looked so kissable, and you couldn’t help yourself. He was covered in champagne, and he was supposed to be using these 5 minutes to shower and change, but you had other plans. You ran him to his driver’s room, started kissing him, and didn’t stop. He didn’t seem to mind, even if it meant he wouldn’t get to shower and he’d just be champagne-y all night. He pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair. His soft, gorgeous hair. 

His hands travelled up, taking your top with them and you smirked. 

“Getting handsy?” You smirked. 

“Never,” he shook his head and pulled your top off, beginning his assault on your neck. 

“George! Get out of the fucking shower, you can condition later- OH FUCK OFF!” Aleix, his trainer shouted and ran back out the door. George did the gentlemanly thing and covered you, but not without laughter. 

“George!” you hissed as he laughed. “Give me my top!” 

He handed you your top and quickly changed into a new suit, spraying himself in deodorant. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek with one last chuckle. “It's a good story for the grandkids,” he shrugged, leaving you with a smile as he went off to do interviews.

-------------------

Alex Albon

Alex had finished in the points again, and you were just so proud of him. Since he’d gotten out of the car you’d kissed him many a thousand times, but he wasn’t complaining. Actually he’d started making out with you about 3 minutes ago, and something in his kisses told you he wasn’t planning on stopping.

“Your mom will be here any minute,” you reminded him, pulling away. He rolled his eyes. 

“Did you seriously just mention my mom while I had a semi?”

“Had?”

“You mentioned my mom!” 

You chuckled and pressed another kiss to his perfect lips. He pulled you back in, kissing you deeply as his hands ran through your hair, messing it up, but you didn’t care. It felt too good, he felt too good. He nipped at your lips, coaxing them open so he could push his tongue into your mouth. His hands slowly went further down, dangerously close to where your top zipped. 

“Alex,” You warned, breathless. 

He smirked up at you. “For a minute?” 

“Alex-”

“Alex? Are you in here?” George asked, walking in. The Brit was stopped in his tracks when he saw you on his lap, hiding your face in his neck as you tried to contain your embarrassment. He hadn’t even seen anything, but your cheek heated and you wanted the floor to swallow you up.  “Oh, sorry for cockblocking, chat later.”

You both started laughing when he left. 

“We need to start locking the door,” he sighed. 

“I think I’m in shock, I thought that was your mom!” you cried, your breath finally going back to normal as Alex laughed at you. 

-------------------

Lewis Hamilton

It wasn’t fair how good he looked in his media day outfits, and he knew it too. He knew you’d pull him to the side and tell him to meet you in his driver’s room, he knew he’d come, and he knew he’d get to fuck you. 

So there you were, in his driver’s room, his lips on yours as you both desperately pulled each other’s clothes off. 

Too bad you forgot to lock the door. 

“Lewis have you- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK MY EYES!” Lando immediately covered his eyes, turning around as you dressed yourselves. Did you feel guilty? Yes. Did you care at all? Not really. As soon as he left, would you two continue? Probably. “HAVE SOME SHAME AND HUMILITY PLEASE?”

Lewis laughed. “What do you need now?” 

“Bleach for my eyes, maybe!” Lando’s voice cracked and he turned back, his cheeks red. “I need an extra ice pack if you have one.” 

Lewis nodded and got one of his ice packs out of the freezer in the corner of his room. “Here.”

Lando took it and left without another word. You looked at Lewis, shaking your head. 

“I thought you locked the door,” you smirked, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss up your neck. 

“That’s funny, I thought you did,” he smirked. 

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered. 

“I don’t really care.”

-------------------

Max Verstappen 

He’d won (again), and he was horny afterwards (again). As soon as he was done with the podium and the main interviews, he ran to his driver’s room and called you to meet him there, needing some ‘support’.

“Max,” you hissed as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, kissing down your neck. 

“Yes?”  he answered innocently, pressing his lips to yours again. 

“You have interviews-” 

“Fuck the media,” he whispered. “I want you.”

“Max this is a bad idea-” 

Just then, the door swung open to reveal Daniel, holding a camera. 

“You two need to keep it down, we can hear you down at RB!” he laughed as MAx started blushing, pushing his friend out of the room. They fought for a moment, but Daniel eventually left you two alone. Max sat beside you, letting you lean into him. 

“He’s going to post that, isn’t he?”  You asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You’d never have a day of peace with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------------

Lando Norris

He was a sly bitch. It started as small pecks on your neck and the top of your head, then it was kisses on the lips, and now he had his tongue down your throat as you ground down on him, even though you both knew he was needed elsewhere.

"That's it," he whispered, loosing himself in the feeling of the both of you. "Feels so good."

You nodded, in pure ecstasy as you felt his hands and lips on you. "So good Lan."

His hands pulled you closer (if that was even possible) and you smiled into the kiss. This was the perfect moment-

"LAN!" Zak brown's voice pulled you both out of it, and you scrambled to get up.

Lando sighed as you left his lap and groaned out a simple "What?"

"We need you for a marketing thing, come on, chop chop!" Zak was as oblivious and cheery as ever and you could barely contain your laughter at Lando's 'annoyed teenager' face, as you and Oscar had started calling it.

"Bye baby," you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he fought back the urge to ignore his duties and just go back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day with you.

-------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[reocidal]

HONEYMOON PHASE — A. MIYA

cws; swearing, gn?reader but it gives fem to me even tho theres not descriptions of reader or gendered pet names, married life, tooth rotting fluff, yeah.

wc; 605

"'s it too late," atsumu's voice is muffled and his words slurred as he speaks, face buried in your shoulder.

"mm?" you respond sleepily, not really listening to him. strong tan arms are wrapped around your middle, and you absentmindedly curl your fingers into his untoned bleached hair. he purrs at the feeling, pulling you closer to him so he can press his mouth to your neck, grinning lazily. you make a slight noise of protest as you feel his teeth against your neck, and then he bites you, really bites you, to make you shut up.

"mmh, leave the jackals, y'know? fuck 'em, i could become a hermit or a monk or somethin'."

a drowsy, surprised giggle bubbles out of you, and his smile widens in response. he likes making you laugh.

"tsumu," you say, and he realises with glee that you still have your rough, lower-than-usual, sexy morning voice. "tsumu, monks can't get married, i think. and they have to be bald."

he groans, but you're not sure which one it's in response to. switching tactics, you half-heartedly try to push him off you.

"lemme stay here," he whines. "i love you, i wanna—"

"tsumu, no," you chide him, and he quiets down like a kicked puppy. raising his head, he pulls your left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the spot just above your wedding ring before he gets up with a sleepy yawn.

"five years into our marriage and you still don't let me sleep in," he says with a pout.

you ignore him, pausing mid-movement to admire his sculpted figure and the way his body moves as he transfers his wedding ring from his finger to the chain around his neck. when he notices you looking, a bright, boyish grin lights up his face. "can't risk losing it," he tells you, still smiling. you can't help but mirror his expression with your own giddy, lovestruck smile.

you're fixing up breakfast in the kitchen when he comes in, although he's still not dressed to leave yet. you turn to him, smiling when he nuzzles his face into yours. "baby, can i drive you t'work?"

you shake your head, hands coming up to cup his face. "you're already running late, love."

he rolls his eyes in response, angling his head to kiss your palm. "baby, best friend, love of my fuckin' life. is it such a crime to want to spend more time with you?"

"we have all the time in the world, tsumu," you say. "eat quick and go."

"not leaving the house without you," he says sulkily. "they can practice without their favourite setter for a bit."

"favourite? that's debatable," you tease, sitting down next to him with your own breakfast. atsumu kisses your knuckles again with a sly grin, ignoring your dig at him. "but i'm your favourite setter."

"you're my favourite everything," you say, and then you laugh as the red spreads across his cheeks and his nose and the tips of his ears. your breakfasts remain untouched as he leans in to kiss all over your face in a bid to distract you.

"are you flirting with me, y/n l/n?" he asks.

"maybe," you reply, still laughing.

he shuts you up with a kiss. "what if we skip work today?"

"and do what, exactly?"

"laze around, y'know. i just want to stay with you, spend some time together."

"hmm." you pretend to think, but your mind is already made up. "i dunno..."

he kisses your palm, and then your wrist. "please?"

you've never been able to resist those stupid puppy eyes, anyways.

I HATE THIS ITS SO HAPPY. kmsing. drop a like, rb and or comment if u liked this 🤔🤔 husband atsumu u could fix me

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤclingy boyfriendsㅤ...ㅤ( 엔하이픈 )

ㅤㅤ﹙2189﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff fluff fluff, est. relㅤㅤwarnings a few kisses and pecksㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ had sm fun writing this bc i love cuddles. happy reading ^^ please rb and give feedback, it helps a lot ^_^ iNDEX requested

HEESEUNG

“hee, i need to go,” you whine, trying to get out of his arms but his grip only gets tighter around you as he keeps holding you against him, laying on top of you. he has always been clingy, but he’s especially clingier today— been holding you for the past thirty minutes and refusing to let go. 

you like this— on contrary to your words. it’s nice when he’s being this cute and clingy. you feel him press a few tender kisses on the base of your neck, something that always makes your heartbeat faster.

“i see,” is all he says, propping his chin up on your chest, pretending to think as he looks up at you. you mouth a quiet ‘please’ and he chuckles, burying his face in your chest again. “no,” 

and you groan again while he continues to hold onto you stubbornly. he holds you even closer when you try to resist, a sigh falling off your lips as you seem to give up. “lunch is not going to make itself,”

“lunch can wait,” the words are muffled against your chest but you can hear him smiling. it’s only a few seconds until he looks up at you, stealing a quick peck before shooting you a grin. “let me hold you for a little longer, darling,”

JONGSEONG

he said it would be just a few kisses but it has been quite a while since you’ve been on jay’s lap, and his arms only seem to wrap tighter around you. you lift your head up from his shoulder, looking at him with a slight pout. “how long are you going to keep this up?”

“dunno, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips, tilting his head to the other side to go in for a few feathery kisses on your cheeks and lips before looking at you longingly. “can’t seem to get enough of your lips today,”

and the club room is not the most ideal place to kiss since a student— or worse, a teacher— could walk in anytime. usually he’s the responsible one, making sure you two don’t get caught during your sneaky kisses and meetups between classes. however today, his mind is far away from thinking about anyone else but you.

“your new chapstick—” he speaks between the kisses, fingers drawing soft circles on your back as he pulls you closer. “is it cherry?”

you nod, one hand on his chest while the other on the back of his neck. “yep, i got it yesterday,”

“forgive me for taking up a little more of your time,” he chuckles, leaning in and capturing your lips in another kiss. he kisses you for longer this time, a bit slower, savouring the taste of your chapstick and the feeling of your lips moving against his. he pulls away reluctantly and lowly chuckles under his breath. “gosh, i can never get enough of you.”

JAEYUN

“sorry for being too clingy, angel,” he whispers, nuzzling his face deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “you’re so warm, it’s nice,”

“you’re always like this,” you giggle, reaching out to brush his hair with your fingers. it’s always nice to have him spooning you as if no worries exist and it’s just you, him and your bed in this entire world.

you feel his lips trailing over the back of your neck down to your shoulders, planting soft and tender kisses in their wake. it doesn’t take you much to melt in his embrace— just a few kisses with his arms around you usually do the job.

“i hope you don’t mind it,” he says with a quiet laugh, turning you slightly towards him to look at your face. “you’re my sweetheart, the love of my life. i can barely spend an hour without you,”

and all you do is laugh at his words, a sound so melodious that it makes his smile grow wider. jake shifts a little, propping himself on his elbow before leaning in and smothering your face in kisses and whispering sweet nothings in between, his heart fluttering at the sound of your giggles. 

“watching you being clingy is my favourite thing in the world,” you manage to speak between his endless kisses and pecks, cupping his cheeks tenderly. 

the smile never leaves his lips, only growing wider as he presses his lips against your cheeks and gives you a few pecks before his lips are back onto yours. “you are my favourite thing in this world,”

SUNGHOON

“don’t you dare move,” you freeze at his words, surprise evident on your face. he doesn’t give you a chance to speak, pulling you closer with your back pressing up against his chest. “you’re not going anywhere,”

it’s new, almost rare for sunghoon to be this clingy. usually, he prefers you sitting next to him, arms linked or fingers intertwined, your head on his chest with his head on yours, kissing it every few seconds. but this— his arms basically engulfing you from behind and making it hard for you to focus on the movie with the way his chin rests on your shoulder, breath tickling against your neck— is usual, and you like it. 

“let me go get more popcorn,” you stifle your laugh, gazing at him from the corner of your eyes. you try your best to sound convincing, even though his arms only wrap tighter around you. “i’ll be back in a minute,”

“i said, no,” he tries to sound firm, although you chuckle at how cute he sounds and looks, his lips pressed together, brows furrowed. he catches you looking at him and narrows his eyes at you before shaking his head, kissing your forehead. “you’re not going anywhere until i say so, princess,”

you end up laughing, giving up on your request and relax in his arms, leaning back completely against his chest. “you’re so cute when you’re clingy,”

sunghoon only hums with his face against the crook of your neck. you can feel him leaving a few kisses there before he looks up, kissing the top of your head, whispering softly. “you feel too good in my arms for me to let you go,”

SUNOO

the silence and dim lights in your room almost lull you into sleep, the warm comforter only making the process easier before you hear sunoo whisper in the dead of the night, although not long after you’ve come to bed to sleep. “come closer,”

your stay quiet in your position for a few seconds before shifting closer to your boyfriend, arms slithering around his waist. “you okay?” 

and it’s not really rare for sunoo to ask you to sit or lay close to him. in fact, he would trade anything to cuddle with you and have you all nice and snug against him. although, the fact that he likes his own personal space while sleeping stands false for now, because he pulls you even closer, your body basically pressed up against him completely. 

he nods, burying his face in your hair while his hands trace up and down on your back, his soothing touch making you smile at the sensation. “i just want to hold you,”

your smile only grows wider at his words and you swear your can feel the thumping of your heart that paces as he starts leaving fluttering kisses on your cheeks. “you can hold me as much as you want,”

it only takes him a few seconds before he pulls you even closer, positioning you on top of him and enjoying the way your head rests on his chest. his hand continues to caress your back while the other fixes the comforter over you two. “this is better,”

JUNGWON

“baby,” you hear his voice as soon as he enters through the door, quickly shuffling out of his shoes and making his way to you before wrapping you in his arms. “gosh, i’ve missed you, my love,” 

it’s cute, especially the way he’s almost lifting you off your feet while hugging, having you on your tippy toes. a few seconds in and he’s swaying you left and right, mumbling something against your shoulder that you can’t quite catch. “you’re squeezing me, wonie,”

“can’t help it,” he gives a quick response, lifting his head up slightly to look at you. it’s quiet for a few moments, just him admiring you as if taking in your face and remembering every little detail about it. you smile simply at the lack of words, finding his expression utterly sweet before he continues. “i missed you so so much. so damn much, you have no idea.”

you giggle at his words, poking his nose gently with your index finger, his arms holding you by your waist. “i think i do. those voice messages everyday give me a slight idea,”

he can’t help but laugh sheepishly, looking away briefly. it’s true he spammed you with texts and voice notes, and they were about everything— the weather, what they had for breakfast, the poor joke some member made or the way a cloud looked like you— everything.

“i’m never going on tours again,” he whispers between the quick kisses he plants all over your face, your eyes squinting at the act, something that, according to him, makes you look even more adorable. “too much for my heart,”

NI-KI

riki positions himself on top of you, basically burying you under himself on the couch and engulfing you in his embrace. it’s warm and nice— you can barely breath, trying to wriggle your way out before he mumbles against your shoulders. “stop moving,”

“i can’t breathe, ‘ki,” you manage to muffle out, your arms encircling around his much larger frame. he knows you are going to slip out from under him if he moves, probably laying on top of him— which he loves just as much as this, but laying on top of you is way more fun.

“so spoiled,” he grunts from your neck, although not moving for another few seconds before he shifts slightly and switches to a position where you can breathe properly. “better?”

you huff when he calls you spoiled as if reminding him of the postion you two were in. riki had practically begged for cuddles while you were working on a project, saying he’ll help you with it later. although, you two are more likely to end up sleeping in each other’s arms than getting up to work on the project.

if laying on top of you was not enough, he nuzzles his face even further in your neck as if he isn’t already close enough. you squint your eyes at him, poking his cheeks with your finger. “you are spoiled,” 

“well push me off yourself if you have a problem,” he says with a scoff, raising an eyebrow up at your silence. he wonders if you’re contemplating in silence, but when your arms wrap around him a bit more tightly, making him chuckle as he leans down to press his cheeks against yours. “thought so,”

[jurassicdeer]

𝘽𝙀𝘿 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙈 : 𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ( 𝙛𝙩. 𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙞 )

summary: you confess to your boyfriend bachira you think his best friend isagi is cute. he decides to do some meddling of his own. wc: 1.4k warnings: fem!reader, dub-conish (reader isn't aware isagi is there oops), humiliation, praise, gratuitous dialogue a/n: hello hello beautiful people ! this is my submission for @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event, with the prompt bachira & humiliation ! please check out the other writers + fics if they tickle your fancy. i have not written smut like this in ... a year, i think, so please be gentle with me. hope you love it, please comment & rb if you do ! credit to @/cafekitsune for the beautiful mdni divider !

" he feels the same, you know. i don’t know why you were so secretive. "

your eyes, previously squeezed shut, fly open, and every muscle that had been turned into jelly from your recent orgasm tenses up immediately. you shift with the intention to move away from your boyfriend, but it’s in vain – bachira’s large palm and long fingers splay against your pelvis, pushing you down into the bed. it doesn’t hurt, nothing with bachira ever does, but it’s insistent in the same way his fingers circling your clit are. 

" what do you – ah! – m-meguru, what do you m-mean? " you know what he means, you’re unsure why you’re asking. bachira doesn’t mind, though, he always loves to tell a story. 

“ well – " his tone is sing-song, sickly sweet, and it’s clear he’s having way more fun than he should be ( than you think he should be, anyway ). a lithe finger pushes its way through your folds to slip inside of you, and your hips buck at the same time you whine – too much, not yet, still sensitive. he won’t listen, “ remember that one time you told me ‘sagi was cute? then played it off like you were joking? you were right, by the way, so don’t think i’m mad, promise i’m not. but it got me thinking – "

one finger turns to two and the burn makes you squeeze your eyes shut again. it’s nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, but enough to make you just that little bit uncomfortable. it doesn’t help that you’re so on edge, “ bachira – "

“ shhhhh. anyway, it got me thinking, you know? he’d never admit it ‘cause he’s my best friend, but i know he thinks you’re cute. " the look you give him has his head shaking, “ don’t talk! i’m not done – i remembered, when we first met you he called dibs. you liked me more – obviously – so that didn’t matter, just a funny joke after the fact. regardless, i had the idea to … well, i was eavesdropping on you the other day – "

an indignant sound leaves you and you squirm more; bachira sighs, lets his golden eyes flick down to your ankle, pretty pink panties dangling from them. quickly he pauses, uses the hand on your hips to pick it up. you whimper, both from the loss of movement inside of you and because you know what he’s about to do, you’ve had enough sex throughout the course of your relationship ( more than normal, according to your friends ). you’re proved right when he taps the side of your cheek, prompting you to open up – you do, ever-obedient, despite the red-hot humiliation burning in your cheeks. cotton presses between your lips and fills your mouth, your whine becomes muffled. bachira beams, “ there we go. always so good for me, hm? “ another pat to your cheek. your eyes start to water – you feel like a prized showdog or something. 

“ much better. " you fight the urge to roll your eyes; it doesn’t last long because bachira’s back to hovering next to you, his shadow imposing. you feel vulnerable, exposed and open for whatever he wants to do. right now, it seems like all he wants to do is make you cum in the most embarrassing way possible. he scissors his fingers and grins when you cry out, big and goofy and too lighthearted for what he’s talking about, “ back to what i was saying – i was eavesdropping on you and your friends the other night. sue me, i’m curious. heard you talking about him – agreeing when one of them said he’s hot, you know, stuff like that. kept it in the back of my mind for later. but then – yesterday, when i came home, i got here earlier than you thought i did. found you. ” 

your mind races in an attempt to figure out where your boyfriend is going with all of this. yesterday, yesterday – oh. oh my god. 

“ you’re so cute when you moan, you know? i know i always tell you, but i can’t help it. so pretty, just like – " bachira curls his fingers, lets them brush against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars, eliciting a low, muffled moan, “ – that. you were doing that, saying my name, like always. i was just about ready to go in when i heard his, too. s’when i realized it was time. "

the tears previously welling up fall, now. big, fat droplets running down your face, taking your mascara with them and smearing the pretty makeup you’d done for your date tonight. you feel pathetic, like you’d been caught. it makes sense, now; you thought you had heard him come in before he announced himself, but it didn’t make sense, so you brushed it off. now you realize he had just gone back out and made a point of announcing his entrance the second time. you want to look away in embarrassment but bachira won’t let you, his fingers picking up their pace at the same time he grips your chin in his hand. combined with the panties stuffing your mouth, you can’t say what you want to – i’m sorry, i’m sorry, it doesn’t mean anything, i’m sorry. 

what’s worse is it all feels so good, bachira’s fingers pumping inside of you at an almost dizzying pace, thumb carefully circling your clit with just enough pressure to make all thoughts leave your head. you can feel your orgasm fast approaching, a knot in your tummy threatening to unravel. it always amazes you, how bachira knows just how to make you fall apart within seconds. he knows you inside and out, could take you apart and put you back together again. sometimes you think he’d probably like to. 

in your panicked state, though, you hadn’t realized what he said – it’s time. time for what?

wide, wet eyes, embarrassed and earnest all at once, meet bachira’s own – tender, loving, with that bit of mischief behind them. the eyes you love so much. 

as always, he seems to read your mind, and his soft, fond smile turns to another shit-eating grin. his fingers don’t stop their pace when he speaks again, “ thought i’d ask him to join us. you’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? oh – " his words break off into a moan, his collected exterior cracking if only for a moment. the way you clench around him tells him everything he needs to know. 

not like he’d just take that as an answer, though. 

“ she likes that, huh? pretty pussy needs two cocks to be satisfied. i know, i know, s’okay – we just need to make sure that you want it. i need to make sure you want it. don’t needa use your words, you know that. be good for me, baby, like you always are. ”

you break, then – you gush around the fingers digging deep inside of you, your eyes blown wide, glazed over from his sweet talk. all embarrassment melts away, your brain mush. while your legs shake and your hips buck you nod, almost wildly, whining and crying around the intrusion in your mouth while bachira fucks you through it all. you do want isagi here, you want them both, you want – everything, really. your hand grips his arm so hard you’re sure you’re leaving nail marks, pulling him close in what you can only describe as an attempt to make him a part of you. your bachira. 

“ fuck this. you’re an asshole, bachira. can’t believe you made me fucking watch. i’ll be there in ten. ”

you freeze, snapped out of subspace in an instant. you register a lot of things, then – how hard bachira is against your leg, cock thick and heavy and leaking; how that voice definitely belonged to isagi, irritated and gruff; and how bachira’s no longer grinning at you but at the laptop set up on his desk. the one you’d thought was off. 

“ don’t be mad. ” again, bachira knows you, which is why he says it the second the call drops. you’re too embarrassed to speak, just looking at him dumbfounded and still fucked out from your previous orgasms, “ and don’t try to clean up. he’ll be sad if it’s not messy. ”

you shut your eyes to try and push away the humiliation. there’s a pause from your boyfriend, and while you can’t see him, you can feel him slinking down the bed, making himself comfortable between your thighs. you crack an eye open to see him looking up at you, almost pleading, “ think you can give me one more? pleaseeeee. he’s gonna hog you when he gets here! ”

you can’t do much else but nod, accepting your fate. it was what you wanted, after all.

[atrirose]

✶ FOCUS — p.sunghoon

사랑 tutor!sunghoon x f!r . . . 📁 warning. kissing, use of pet names ! + FLUFF ★ seiu msg: yk i had to go feral, rbs/feedbacks are appreciated

sunghoon sighed after feeling your intense stare for the the past 15 minutes “is there something on my face, yn or the stuff i’m teaching not piquing your interest” you tilt your head “why would you think that” he sighed again “because when you were assigned to me by the teacher for tutoring, i didn’t expect you would be staring at me the whole time instead of learning” sunghoon might be the heartthrob of the school but to you he was just a normal friend, in fact an unbearable one but this is all weird, why did he looks so hot all of a sudden?

“i wasn’t staring” you said as you looked down at your book “yeah sure whatever, so as i was saying this should go over-” blurry, his voice was blurry, he was so pretty, those glasses framed his face well, his long sleeves folded to show his veiny arms, his long and smooth fingers holding the pen “so if you carry this here” he cleared his throat to get your attention back at the book.

“are you getting turned on by my charms,yn” sunghoon smiled still not looking at you “shut up, it’s just the glasses” you looked at the book infront of you again “didn’t know you are into that stuff” he said smirking “it’s not that, it’s just- um new” you mentally cursed yourself for hesitating so much, it will just get to his head.

“yeah sure” he said sarcastically as he brushed a strand of hair from your face, at this point he just trying to get a reaction out of you “your cheeks are red” he said as he brushed over your cheeks, you looked at him, all weird this is all weird, why would this get you worked up? why would your best friend get you all flustered?, glasses really suited him, he looked so gorgeous “are in love yn” he said giggling “no, nothing lovable about you” you said with a pout, he leaned in as he pecked it

you were caught off guard, eyes widen but he looked so composed like all of this was meant to be “idiot” he said before kissing you again, this time it wasn’t short it was soft, his warm lips moved against yours as his hands cupped your face, smiles erupted on his face when he pulled away “you look like an idiot” he said going back to the book infront of him “OH HELL NAH! you can’t just kiss me and call me an idiot then go back like nothing happened” you pulled him back so he was facing you “do you want something to happen then” he said confused “look i know you hate me”

“who said i hate you?” you said still looking at his lips which were now coated with your lipgloss, it’s now time for sunghoon to go wide eyes “you’re making it awkward just staring at me like that” you said and before you know it he leaned in for another kiss, you smiled as he kissed you, he pulled back trying to remove his glasses but you stopped him “so you really get turned on by this huh?” he laughed as you smacked him “you just look good with it”

“i look so good that you keep messing your solution, hmm darling” he spoke softly in your ear, his breath tickling your eyes with his breath “stop making it sound so creepy” he giggled as he pulled himself back against you, his hands around your waist as he whispers against your lips “if i had known that these glasses would be the enough for you to confess your feelings for me, i would have worn them sooner” you bit his lips “ouch what was that for?”

“i didn’t confess yet” you said facing the books again “now teach me before i find your replacement”

“as you say princess”

[the-offside-rule]

Daniel Ricciardo (RB Visa) - Lover

Requested: yes

Swift Series

Prompt: Daniel and international popstar Y/n accidentally get married in Vegas

Warnings: nope

Daniel woke up in his hotel room with a pounding headache, groaning as he tried to open his eyes but being blinded by the sun coming through the windows each time. He turned around, cursing to himself before his eyes widened. Y/n, the Y/n lay beside him, in just a bra. While they had met several times before and hung out with similar people, this was the last person he expected to see in his bed the morning after a race weekend. He began questioning what had happened? What had he done? Or more importantly, who had he done? Whilst Daniel sat thinking about what to say to her when she woke up, he ultimately decided to order room service and go to the bathroom to actually think.....and maybe throw up.

Y/n was awoken by a door closing quite loudly. She jumped up, looking around, her eyes had grown wife as she realised that she wasn't asleep in her room, she was in someone else's. She heard footsteps coming and turned to see who it was. "Uh... morning?" Daniel croaked, his voice scratchy from the combination of dehydration and excessive partying. Y/n grabbed the bed covers and pulled them up over her chest. "What the fuck happened?" She mumbled to herself. "Yeah, I said the same thing."

Daniel scratched his head, replying, "I wish I knew. It's all a bit of a blur." Suddenly, his eyes widened as he noticed a shiny object on his finger. "You don't think this would have anything to do with it?" He lifted his hand to show Y/n, before she looked down, spotting the matching ring. "I got married in Vegas." She was so unbelievably angry with herself. Since she was a child she dreamed of this big extravagant wedding and now she just got married in Vegas?

She looked over to Daniel as he burst into laughter. "Well, you can't get rid of me now." Daniel chuckled, his Australian accent making the situation even more absurd. "Daniel, this is not funny, I'm going to get into so much shit!" Y/n said. Daniel turned to open his big bottle of champagne as Y/n continued her rant. "You're having champagne? At this time?" Daniel walked over to the bed with a glass and sat down, handing it to her and pouring her a glass. "Why are we still here? We should go get divorced!" Y/n implored him. "You need to know where you got married first." Daniel replied, drinking the champagne from the bottle as Y/n looked on. She downed the glass quickly before grabbing the bottle from Daniel. "I need more than a glass." She mumbled, amking Daniel laugh. "I don't know why you're so upset, I'd make a great husband."

"Daniel, can we just think about what happened and then we'll get down to the details of whether or not you're a good husband?" Daniel nodded before Y/n began to think. "So chief, what happened last night?" Daniel asked, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. Y/n shook her head, her expression mirroring his confusion. "I don't really remember much. We were at that bar, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, bits and pieces of their escapades starting to trickle back into his consciousness. "Yeah, we were celebrating... something." He lifted the champagne tp his lips once more before handing it over to Y/n. She frowned, trying to recall the reason behind their impromptu celebration. "Was it the points you scored? Maybe my new song got number one?"

"Maybe we just got fucking wasted." Daniel shrugged, before Y/n slapped his bare chest, making him wince in pain. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Y/n said. "I vaguely recall a dance-off and a questionable karaoke rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, great," Daniel chuckled. "Classic Vegas moves." As she continued on with the possibilities, Daniel looked at the crumpled looking paper on the night stand. Daniel unfolded it tentatively, his heart sinking as he read the words scrawled across the page: Marriage Certificate - Daniel Ricciardo & Y/n Y/l/n - Las Vegas, Nevada.

Y/n's hand flew to her forehead as the reality of their situation sunk in. "Oh my God... we actually got married." Daniel let out a chuckle laugh, his mind oscillating between disbelief and amusement. "I know. I would have actually gotten you a nice ring. Maybe an expensive one?" Y/n slapped his chest again. "Yeah, it's still sore when you do that."

"Sorry, but you need to stop joking about this. It's serious!" She said. "It's really not. No one even knows." She looked to him. "We were clubbing with other drivers, surely one of them were there. Daniel went to turn on his phone, but it was dead. "Must have been to occupied to charge my phone." Daniel joked. "Yeah, getting married." Y/n replied, charging her phone. "I was thinking of starting our honeymoon." He gasped. "Are we going to have a baby Ricciardo?"

"No!" Daniel arched a brow. "Excuse me, but you would be lucky to have a child with my genes." He said, pretending to be hurt. "Yeah, and your humour." She rolled her eyes. "See? Dream team." They sat in silence for a few minutes. She expected a call from her manager at any given second. He was going to kill her. Daniel noticed how tense she was getting and turned to Y/n, holding out his hand. "Well, at least we've got one epic story for the grandkids." Y/n chuckled, taking his hand. "Yep, and a marriage certificate to prove it."

"If our managers don't call us in the next hour, they won't know and I say we go get divorced." Y/n thought about it for a moment. "I mean, if they don't know why bother? The point of us divorcing is so they get off our backs. Plus, it's broad daylight. If people see us going to the Chapel, people will find out." Daniel nodded. "So we're staying married?" Y/n smiled. "Of course. You're like the best husband I could have asked for." Daniel squeezed her hand. "Well, I say we head to the airport and get out of here." Daniel suggested, getting up. "Or we could enjoy our honeymoon with some movies?" He chuckled and sat back down, grabbing the remote control and turning Netflix on. "Sounds good. Can I?" Y/n nodded, allowing Daniel to wrap an arm around her as she leaned into him. "You're coming to Abu Dhabi, though." Daniel said. "Duh. You're going to go to the last race without your wife?"

[bookshelf-dust]

something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.” 

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant. 

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag. 

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter. 

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?” Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him. 

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in. 

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is. 

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…” 

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall. 

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem. 

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie. 

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you. 

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson. 

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob. 

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help. 

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy. 

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside. 

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks. 

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor. 

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass. 

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines. 

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him. 

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger. 

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning. 

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance. 

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him. 

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now. 

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms. 

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow. 

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin. 

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer. 

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible. 

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door. 

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter. 

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time. 

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work. 

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine. 

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace. 

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be. 

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself. 

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks. 

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera. 

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling. 

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like? 

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around. 

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle. 

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders. 

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears. 

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms. 

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s. 

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie. 

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!” 

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in. 

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even. 

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for. 

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes? 

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive. 

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality. 

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first. 

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer. 

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month. 

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door. 

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep. 

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front. 

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.” 

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say. 

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh. 

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom. 

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today. 

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction. 

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality. 

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies. 

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go. 

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it. 

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose. 

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly. 

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open. 

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him. 

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors. 

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him. 

Eddie says your name. 

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face. 

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering. 

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?” 

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion. 

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it. 

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright. 

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you. 

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word. 

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin. 

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness. 

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet. 

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest. 

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink. 

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction. 

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm. 

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him. 

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing. 

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps. 

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring. 

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished. 

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him. 

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?” 

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in. 

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it. 

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers. 

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on. 

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him. 

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say. 

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!