#and i think the show wants you to like him too. at least as a character. it wants you to care what happens to him.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

i know nanami’s only 27, but i can’t help but think that he’s probably got a lot of “old man” traits that he’s acquired one way or another. maybe life made him that way, maybe he chose to act like he is in his 40s and not late 20s, but either way, having him around would be a very interesting experience to say the least because i’m pretty sure he…

he complains like a seasoned retiree. he’s got that heavy sigh, rubs his temple routine down to an art. the kind of man who mutters, “i’m too old for this,” when he’s only been awake for ten minutes. if you suggest staying out late, he just looks at you like you suggested committing a crime.

he has a very specific way of doing things. nanami doesn’t just go grocery shopping—he has a route. he knows which brands he likes, which cashier is the fastest, and he refuses to go on weekends because “that’s when the amateurs show up.” he folds his laundry a certain way, and god help you if you disrupt his system.

his idea of “treating himself” is so dad-coded. nanami doesn’t do impulse buys—when he does spend money on himself, it’s always something practical. “i finally got those orthopedic insoles” or “this is a quality briefcase; it’ll last a lifetime.” and he probably has one (1) expensive pen that he never lets anyone borrow.

he dresses like he’s ready to scold someone for stepping on his lawn. pressed slacks, polished shoes, dress shirts with the sleeves neatly rolled up. casual wear? good luck catching him in it. even his loungewear is suspiciously put-together—like, who wears an actual button-up pajama set in 2025? nanami kento, that’s who.

he drives like a dad. he never speeds, always uses his turn signal, and complains about “reckless drivers” while driving exactly the speed limit. the kind of man who refuses to start the car until everyone has their seatbelt on.

oh, and dating nanami as someone younger than him would be an experience. he already acts like he’s in his 40s, so the age gap (however small) feels so much bigger because he refuses to let loose. but deep down, he wants to—he just doesn’t know how. so to be in a relationship with him is to get used to stuff like this;

he sighs like he’s raising a teenager. if you stay up too late? heavy sigh. if you forget to bring a jacket? exasperated sigh while taking off his coat to drape over your shoulders. if you tell him about a reckless decision you made? pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs like you just told him you totaled his car. but beneath all that dramatic suffering, there’s genuine care. you might get an “honestly, do you have no sense of self-preservation?” but it’s followed by him adjusting your scarf, making sure your shoelaces are tied, and keeping a steady hand on your back when crossing the street.

he pretends to be annoyed by your energy, but secretly loves it. he acts like your enthusiasm exhausts him, but if you ever stopped being excited around him? he’d miss it desperately. when you drag him to try something new, he’ll complain the whole time (“this is a waste of money”), but afterward, he’ll admit—very quietly—that it wasn’t that bad. he likes how you remind him to enjoy life in ways he never lets himself. he’ll never jump in recklessly, but if you say, “just trust me,” he’ll hesitate… then sigh… then go along with whatever nonsense you’re up to, even if he acts like he’s suffering the entire time.

he acts like a responsible adult, but enables your habits in secret. “you shouldn’t be drinking so much caffeine.” and yet, the next morning, there’s an extra coffee waiting for you. “wasting money on little things adds up.” but somehow, that limited-edition item you wanted just magically appears on your desk. he talks a big game about being responsible, but when it comes to you? he has no self-control.

he takes care of you like an old-fashioned gentleman. he opens doors, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, and insists on carrying heavy things for you. not because he thinks you can’t—just because he wants to. he likes taking care of you, even if he pretends it’s just out of obligation. if you try to carry something heavy, he just looks at you. doesn’t even say anything. just crosses his arms and waits for you to give up and hand it to him. if you call him a gentleman, he’ll scoff, “that’s just basic decency.” but if you really gush about it, you might catch the tips of his ears turning pink.

he thinks trendy slang is ridiculous. you use modern slang just to see his reaction, and it never fails to make him sigh like he just aged ten years on the spot.

“nanami, be so for real.”

“…so for real what?”

“you should just trust the process.”

“i’d rather not.”

if you ever jokingly call him “king” or “bestie” he’ll give you the look. he pretends he doesn’t care, but if you say something really out of pocket, you might actually get him to break character and let out a very exhausted, “what does that even mean?” (you’re keeping track of all the slang that makes him react the most so you can use it strategically. it’s your favorite game.)

he secretly likes when you cling to him. nanami acts like he’s too mature for overly affectionate behavior, but the first time you loop your arm through his or rest your head against his shoulder in public, he freezes. clears his throat. tries to pretend he doesn’t care—but his hand naturally comes to rest over yours, holding you there like it’s second nature. if you ever hug him from behind or whine “but i missed you,” he won’t admit how fast his heart is beating, but he will sigh and say, “i was gone for twenty minutes.” doesn’t matter. he still lets you cling to him as long as you want.

he plans the most responsible dates, but lets you drag him into chaos. nanami’s idea of a date? a nice dinner, a quiet café, maybe a bookstore. nothing loud, nothing unpredictable. your idea of a date? “let’s go to an arcade.” “let’s take a random train and see where we end up.” “let’s sneak into a rooftop at night.” he knows he should say no. but when you look at him like that? sigh. fine. but if you get into trouble, “i had no part in this.” (he’s definitely bailing you out of trouble five minutes later.)

he absolutely dads you when you get hurt. if you get a tiny scrape? nanami reacts like an overprotective father. “what happened?” “let me see.” “you need to be more careful.” and you’re like, “it’s a paper cut.” but he’s already pulling out a bandaid (which he definitely carries with him, because of course he does). if you ever get seriously hurt? he’s scolding you while carefully patching you up. “you’re too reckless.” “next time, call me.” but his hands are so gentle, and he won’t leave your side until he’s sure you’re okay.

he adores when you fall asleep on him. you knock out on his shoulder? he won’t move. his arm is numb, but he doesn’t dare wake you. if you fall asleep on his lap? his hand naturally comes up to run through your hair. if you curl up in bed and mumble “stay with me,” he’ll sigh, say something about how he has work in the morning… and then stay anyway. and if you ever catch him staring when you wake up? he’ll immediately look away. “you were drooling,” he lies. (he was watching you like you hung the stars.)

he acts like he’s too old for all this, but deep down? nanami loves you more than anything. and if loving you takes years off his life? so be it.

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"I don't understand. Why isn't he getting up?"

"Wh- you killed him!"

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"You cast Finger of Death!"

"I cast Lightning Bolt too; they name spells after fake shit all the time."

"Lightning is real too!!"

"Oh come on. Next you'll be telling me color is a thing."

"...have you ever actually been outside this cavern?"

"What's a cavern?"

"It's where we are right now!"

"Odd name for it, but yes, of course I have. Been this way, that way, through there is a lovely group of giant spiders..."

"We, ah. Might have killed those on our way here."

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"...right. Where do you think we came from?"

"Eh, somewhere. Weird shit shows up all the time."

"I-"

"Oh! Your friend there startled me and it totally slipped my mind; would you care for some tea? I don't drink it myself, but I keep some on hand for guests."

"...okay, listen. These are the Caverns of Chaos. Everything in here is self-replenishing. The prevailing theory was that they existed to protect a central chamber. We've spent weeks down here slogging through unimaginable horrors to make it there and you're going to, what, play dumb?"

"Okay now you're just being rude. I am not dumb! There might not be much to do around here, but I do my best to keep my mind sharp. I'd like to see you figure out as much as I have about the ever-shifting layout of the world!"

"We did! That's how we got here! Have you never tried scrying the outside?"

"Scrying spells are some sort of prank, best I can tell; they never seem to do anything except give me a headache."

"Cast one up."

"I don't really want to give myself a-"

"Just do it! At least 2000 meters."

"Alright, but I don't see...what..."

"..."

"...colors?"

"Yeah, the whole dungeon is monochrome for some reason, we think-"

"Lightning?"

"Well, if there's a storm, I suppose-"

"Death?"

"...death?"

"There's...more like your friend."

"What do you mean-"

"Why aren't they moving?"

"I don't-"

"I'm moving. I can move. See? They look like me. Why aren't they moving?"

"They're- there are skeletons? We just came from-"

"Am I going to stop moving?"

"No, you-"

"Why isn't your friend moving?"

"..."

"...he's...'dead'. Isn't he. I 'killed' him."

"...listen, just calm down, we can-"

"Oh, yes, of course! I could never figure out what these spells for making 'un-dead' were for, but they must be for fixing this! I'll just-"

"NO!"

"But he's-"

"We're handling it!"

"No you're not! Whatever you're doing, it's not working."

"How can you-"

"You're trying to draw power from something that's not there. I've done it a few times, don't feel bad, it's a common mistake."

"I'm drawing power from my goddess! There's no way she's..."

"What is a goddess? Is it that little symbol you're carrying around? It doesn't seem to have any power in it."

"...it...why can't I feel her?"

"Just let me do it, I can-"

"We're not letting you turn Steve into some kind of undead abomination!"

"Wh- but he wasn't dead before!"

"He was alive, you stupid thing!"

"Right, not dead. Un-dead. I'll just make him un-dead again and then we can..."

"Why has she forsaken me?"

"We can..."

"Why won't she answer??"

"Color...lightning...death..."

audible weeping

"They're like me...why aren't they moving?"

"It's probably just the Caves messing with the divine connection, we should-"

"Should I not be moving?"

extended wailing

"Is un-dead not like 'alive'?"

"Listen, I know we didn't have this problem before, but-"

"Is there something wrong with being un-dead?"

"OF COURSE THERE IS, YOU STUPID UNDEAD THING! STEVE IS DEAD, THE GODDESS WON'T LISTEN TO ME, AND YOU'RE JUST...just..."

"...just what?"

"..."

"What am I?"

"..."

"WHAT AM I???"

the cavern shakes

"Listen, just calm down, we'll-"

"Why is he dead? Why are they all dead?"

"All wh-"

"The ones you made me scry on!"

"Oh my god, we forgot about-"

"Why aren't they moving??"

"We don't know! What else did you see?"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"What else??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the lich collapses into a fetal position, rocking back and forth

"Listen, this is important, you need to-"

someone attempts to shake the lich. A sudden pulse of darkness slams them into the opposite wall.

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"Just calm down, we can-"

"GODDESS? WHERE ARE YOU??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the party leader buries her face in her hands. The healer weeps and wails. The lich, seemingly catatonic, continues mumbling to himself. This goes on for a while.

"..."

"Right. Okay. That's enough of this. We're taking Steve's body and leaving. We wouldn't have a chance against a lich in this state anyway. Keep trying to revive him as we go, we'll-"

"...lich?"

"Yes, yes, you don't know anything about anything, it's very funny, har har, we're done here. Go back to giving yourself headaches or whatever it is you do all day."

"I'm coming with you."

"...what?"

"You know what I am. You know about places that aren't 'caverns'. You know about colors, lightning, and death. I need to come with you."

"No offence, buddy, but you don't exactly seem like adventuring material."

"Please! Don't you need to find out why all those people are...'dead'? I can speak with dead, I guess, if it's a real thing."

"..."

"We are not taking this THING that killed Steve with us!"

"...we probably are going to need help with whatever is going on up there."

"He might be lying!"

the party leader gestures at the utterly guileless lich. The healer turns away.

"...fine."

"Thank you."

"Just...keep him away from me."

The party improvises a stretcher as the lich gathers up his meager possessions. A thick silence reigns as the group shuffles out the only exit, the lich awkwardly following at a distance.

"Wait, I forgot my maps-"

"We'll be fine. Just stay back there, okay? You've caused enough trouble for one day."

Nodding hesitantly, the lich steps over the threshold, leaving his cavern for the last time.

It turns out that the lich the adventurers had been hired to slay had never actually killed anyone before until the impulsive paladin of the group swung first. Now, as the healer tries to revive them, the rest have to calm the ancient undead mage down from what is undeniably a panic attack.

[gongyoosgf]

nam-gyu as your bf!!

warnings: namgyu is his own warning, gn!reader, smoking, possessiveness, fluff, smut at the end, choking, control kink, lowkey hand kink, slapping, overstimulation, praise, degrading, blowjob, unprotected sex, aftercare, uhh yeah all that stuff

an: i wrote this in an hour

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who wants to act tough, even though he knows you have him wrapped around your finger. he tries to keep up a cool, unbothered attitude, but the second you tease him or show him affection, he gets all flustered. if you compliment him out of nowhere? he’ll scoff, subtly covering up how his ears turn red.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who gets jealous way too easily. he won’t admit it, but the second someone gets too close to you, he’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and glaring at them until they get the message.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who secretly loves it when you “baby” him, even though he huffs and complains. “i don’t need you to fix my shirt,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t move away when you do it.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who melts the moment you play with his hands. he watches quietly as you trace over his fingers, spinning his rings around (because he definitely has one of those spinny fidget rings).

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who refuses to sleep unless he’s holding you. if you shift away even a little, he’ll instinctively pull you right back with a grumbled, “where do you think you’re going?”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who acts like he doesn’t care, but is secretly the biggest worrywart. “text me when you get home,” he says casually, but if you forget, expect a passive-aggressive “did you die or something?” text.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who always lets you steal his hoodies, even though he complains about it. “why do you even need it? you have your own.” but he never actually takes them back, and if he sees you wearing one, he won’t shut up about how good you look in it.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who secretly loves it when you mess with his hair. if you randomly start running your fingers through it, he’ll roll his eyes but lean into your touch, completely betraying himself.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who teases you constantly, but the second you fire back, he gets all pouty. “that’s fucking rude,” he says after spending the last ten minutes roasting you.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who gets distracted whenever you talk because he’s too busy staring at you. when you call him out on it, he just shrugs. “you’re cute when you talk, that’s all.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who is actually really sentimental. he keeps little things you’ve given him. notes, random trinkets, even a receipt from a place you went together. he won’t tell you, but if you ever find them, he’ll get all embarrassed.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who acts like he’s fine when he’s upset, but the way he clings to you says otherwise. he won’t say anything, just bury his face in your shoulder and hold onto you a little tighter than usual.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who never says “i love you” first, but always finds ways to show it. pulling you closer when you least expect it, keeping a hand on your knee when you’re sitting together, or letting you take the last bite of his food (even if he really wanted that last bite).

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu whose hands are always freezing. without warning, he’ll press them against your neck or slip them under your shirt just to hear you yelp. but if you try to warm them up by holding them, he gets all quiet and lets you, secretly loving the attention.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who likes to act like he’s too cool for couple stuff, but secretly loves it. he’ll roll his eyes if you suggest matching outfits, but later, you’ll notice he’s wearing the same color as you without being asked.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who has the best laugh when he’s high, usually because something random happens, and he just starts giggling uncontrollably.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who always acts like he’s not paying attention, but notices everything about you. the way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, the way you tap your fingers when you’re bored, he picks up on all of it.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who acts all grumpy when you wake him up, but if you stop talking to let him go back to sleep, he mumbles, “keep talking… i like your voice.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who never shuts up about you when you’re not around. thanos so tired of hearing about it, but he doesn’t care. thanos will just be like, “bro, we get it, you’re in love.” and he’ll just smirk, “yeah, and?”

nsfw below!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves pulling you into his lap. sometimes it’s innocent, but most of the time, his fingers press into your hips just enough to make you squirm on his bulge. he tilts his head, amused. “something wrong?”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves to toy with you, whispering things like, “you have no idea how much i wanna fuck you right now. all i can think about is getting you alone, but you’re making me wait.” his lips brush against your earlobe, lingering just a second longer before pulling away.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who’s fully aware of the effect he has on you. when you try to act innocent, he whispers teasingly, “don’t try to act like you don’t want this as much as i do.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves messing with your patience. when he’s teasing you in public, he’s not afraid to keep it going, fingers brushing against your neck, his thumb pressing softly over your pulse point, making you want to squirm, but he won’t let you. “you can’t touch me yet,” he says in a low voice, but he can see how badly you want to.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who gets real handsy when you’re both alone. one moment, he’s playing it cool, and the next, he’s pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss, hands gripping your waist tightly, pressing you flush against him. “did you miss me that much?” he teases, even though it’s clear he’s just as hungry for you.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves to make you beg for him, but in his own way. he’ll be so smooth, so casual about it, but when he sees you getting desperate, his smirk widens. “not yet, sweetheart. you need to earn it.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves watching you fall apart beneath him. whether it’s just his words or his hands, he knows how to make you unravel completely, to the point where you forget everything but him. “look at me,” he groans, as his lips hover over yours. “don’t fucking look away.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who’s got a kink for control. he’ll put you in a position where you can’t escape, whether it’s pinning you down on the bed or holding your hands behind your back, he wants to be the one to make you squirm. “you don’t get to decide tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with authority. “i’m going to do what i want with you.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who knows exactly how to rile you up by whispering dirty little things in your ear while his hands roam under the warmth of your clothes, making you ache for his touch even more.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who gets a thrill out of slowly undressing you, his cold hands brushing over your body, making you ache for more while he watches the way you shiver under his touch, not allowing you to rush a single moment.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who lives for the power he has over you. when he makes you beg for more, when he sees the look in your eyes that says you're completely lost in him, there’s nothing hotter. “say it,” he demands, his voice rough and low. “say what you want.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who can’t get enough of how you tremble when his cold fingers slide under the waistband of your pants, letting them hover just before touching your skin, feeling your anticipation rise with each passing second.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who pushes you to your knees, taking control of the situation as his hands grip your hair, forcing you to take all of him as he fucks your mouth, groaning with pleasure as you give him exactly what he wants.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves to trap you under him, using his hands to pin your wrists above your head while he kisses his way down your neck, his lips rough against your skin, but his body heating you from the inside out.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who can’t resist the sound of your moans. he’ll slow down just to make them louder, smirking when your grip tightens on his shoulder, your breathing shallow. “i love hearing you like this,” he says, his lips brushing against your skin. “don’t hold back for me.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who presses you into the sheets, holding you in place as he moves over you, making sure you feel every inch of him against your skin, loving how you beg for him with every breath you take.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who’ll slap your thigh, forcing you to gasp as he grins at the reaction, loving how he can make you lose control under him.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who loves making you beg for him, his fingers digging into your skin as he moves against you, his touch demanding and possessive, making sure you know who’s in charge while he’s lost in the raw intensity between you two.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who pulls your hair to tilt your head back, his cold fingers digging into your neck while he kisses down your jaw, marking you with his rough, needy touch, as if reminding you that you’re his in every way.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who slams into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pushing you into the mattress with each thrust as he watches you unravel beneath him, your moans spurring him on until you’re both completely lost in the passion.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who grips your hips tightly, his voice a growl, “you like this, don’t you? being fucked like you’re nothing. you’re mine to use however i want.” he slams into you again, making sure every word stings with possessiveness.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who enjoys hearing you scream his name, his cold touch trailing down your spine as he makes you shiver with each movement, knowing exactly how rough to be to make you ache for more, all while keeping you at the edge of your pleasure.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who pulls you close, “say it, fuck, tell me you want me.” his thrusts become relentless, his voice dripping with hunger, “i need to hear you beg for me.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who pulls you into his lap, hands wrapping around your neck as he forces you to ride him, his grip tightening as he controls every movement, making sure you’re completely at his mercy while he watches you fall apart.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who’s not satisfied until he’s made you cum at least twice before he’s done, making sure every thrust hits deep as he relentlessly fucks you, knowing exactly how to get you to the edge. “you’re going to take it all, aren’t you? i’ll fill you up, make you mine completely.” his voice is rough, each word a command, “don’t even think about running. you’ll stay with me until you’ve given me everything I want.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who grits his teeth and looks up at you as he’s about to cum, his hands gripping your throat just enough to make you dizzy, before he fucking loses it, cumming so deep inside you that you both feel every intense wave of it.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who doesn’t let you stop, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he makes sure you’re shaking with pleasure, not stopping until he feels you come undone.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who, after he’s finished, pulls you into his arms, his cold hands caressing your skin gently, brushing your hair out of your face as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “you did so well for me… just rest now.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who lights up a joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke before leaning back, pulling you into his chest. “just relax with me.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who, after you’ve both come down from the high, gives you the blunt, watching you take a drag as he smiles softly. “i love seeing you like this… at peace. let me take care of you.”

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who pulls you into a slow, lazy kiss, holding the blunt lazily between his fingers, the smoke mixing with your breath.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who’s already high, his body feeling relaxed as he pulls you onto his lap, lazily stroking your back, tracing over the curves of your body.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 bf!namgyu who makes sure you’re hydrated, giving you water and taking the time to sip it with you, making sure you’re feeling good after everything, “i’m so proud of you.” his voice is gentle as he takes care of you in the most thoughtful way.

- - - - ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

uhh taglist: @kouzih @cybrasigilism @222hyunju

[ddejavvu]

Sugar daddy Hotch!!! I feel like he'd be the type of person to be like "Honey, I know that that's what these kind of relationships tend to be based on, but you absolutely don't have to have sex with me... I know there's an age gap, so if you don't feel comfortable..." and you're just standing next to him like. "Huh? Sorry I wasn't listening, I was too busy thinking about climbing you like a tree. Can we fuck now please?"

well i think realistically he wouldn't have sought out a sugar baby unless he wanted to have sex w them so i don't think he'd just give you free money but he absolutely is willing to let you get settled before you ever do anything. he'll start you off on a weekly payment and tell you to enjoy the first few and get comfortable with him, he promises he's not gonna show up at the door and take you on the couch before you're ready. meanwhile the first time you spoke on the phone with him you were ready, god you almost stuck your hand down your pants just hearing his deep, smooth voice.

the first time you meet he offers you wine and he promises that he won't do a thing if you end up getting tipsy and you don't even have to drink in the first place if you don't want to. you're more than happy to sip for some courage and you end up draped all over his lap on the couch. you're not even drunk you just want to be there. he thinks you're buttering him up because you think that's what gets you the money, and i mean, eventually yeah, but he's pretty content with taking it slow. he puts one of his big hands on your face and thumbs at your chin to hold it in place while he murmurs, 'you don't have to do this, y'know. the money is yours, just get comfortable for now'.

all you're hearing is 'blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff'. it's right then and there that you lean up to kiss him. maybe a bad time considering the fact that he's trying to ease you into things but you've wanted to take this man to your penthouse and freak it for WEEKS NOW. you'd admit that you'd have sex with him for free but you do also kind of need the money so you're at least going to make sure he gets what he's paying for.

[precure1ove]

he makes me laugh

summary : it's their first time hearing you laugh but it's not at all what they thought it would be..

characters : silver vanrouge , sebek zigbolt

warnings : crack, fluff, reader is the prefect, reader is described as stoic, can be read as platonic or romantic

a/n : i accidentally deleted the ask for this..im so sorry :(( but this request was so fun to do!! <3

You were a stoic person, not one to regularly show emotions except for the slightest shift in your eyes whenever you find something enjoyable or distasteful.

Because of this you rarely laughed, the only sound of appreciation was from a small hum.

silver

Silver didn't mind how you did not react much if he's being honest he appreciates that part of you as it's something he can mostly relate too.

He hadn't even intended to make you laugh but apparently him becoming loopy and accidentally stepping on Grim's tail resulting in a loud girlish scream was enough to set you off.

In one of the worst ways possible.

You start by a small chuckle, seemingly innocent enough before you hunched over then threw your head back, a cackle that could shock anybody or anything followed along. it was like a curse had clawed its way out of your throat to haunt and reign terror over the land for all those who wronged you.

Silver, who was frozen in shock, with an equally terrified Grim clawing onto his pant leg, a good distance away from you in case you struck them down with lighting (reminding him of a certain gargoyle obsessed prince).

Unfortunately, he and Grim make sure to not do anything that can be considered the same amount of comical as that moment again.

Memories of Silver's childhood of a certain fae haunting him during Halloween keeps him on edge for a few days.

sebek

Sebek appreciated your stoic nature, sometimes, while you are a part of the saner portion of the school. (the same can't be said for him despite what he may think.)

He at least wants to see emotion on your face then hear another disappointed sigh again when he's being loud.So when you find him in a rather compromising position of being buried head to toe in custom made malleus merch, bowing to another custom made statue of the fae himself while singing praises.

You couldn't help but laugh.

And it was reality breaking for dear Sebek. You chuckle quietly as if to not be heard, then that was dismissed by you to bring a hand to cover your eyes as a cackle erodes from you, echoing around the dark chamber.

Now, for others, this usually meant trouble, for it meant a glorious reenactment of his beloved waka-sama. You even got the part where lighting strikes behind you ominously perfectly!

Obviously he is also scared for his life, thank lilia for that, but his loyalty and admiration for malleus shines through.

Sebek now seeks your presence more, excited to have someone who also appreciates Malleus like him.

Will you now teach him to laugh like that?

likes & reblogs appreciated

masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[eiightysixbaby]

eat your heart out

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

in which eddie masters valentine’s day through the art of eating pussy

cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT oral (f receiving)

a/n: an early valentine from me to all of u. mwah mwah hope u enjoy ❤️

Eddie Munson doesn't really know what to do when it comes to Valentine's Day.

It's not like he's an idiot; he understands that typically a romantic dinner or a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates are the perfect show of appreciation and affection.

But those things are typically reserved for your girlfriend, and you're not his girlfriend.

But you're also, like, not not his girlfriend.

Eddie doesn't really know what you are, and that's the issue. It started off with you guys just hooking up. Late nights in his van parked behind the school or in a dark part of some neighborhood. Quickies in the bathroom during a break in Hellfire sessions. But it's slowly started to morph into... something else? Eddie isn't one hundred percent sure, but he's noticed that you come over more often, and you don't just want to jump his bones and leave.

Sometimes you guys don't even fuck anymore. Sometimes you invite him over just to watch movies, or he'll ask you to go for a drive with him. You hold his hand under the table when you go out to Benny's diner with the friend group, and Steve keeps waggling his eyebrows at him suggestively every time he catches you two sitting extremely close to each other. Which just makes Eddie blush like a loser.

And, every time you two are about to part ways, you look like you really want to kiss him before he goes.

And sure, you guys have kissed before. He's not about to hook up with you without at least kissing you stupid first. But this is different. You've been looking at him like you just want to kiss him, with nothing to come afterwards.

It all makes him sweat if he thinks about it for too long.

So for now, in the midst of his anxious unwillingness to ask you the horrifying 'What are we?', he's simply decided to show his appreciation for you on Valentine's Day with the one thing he's certain you'll love. He can deal with his feelings and stuff, later.

Your hand fists its way into his hair, fingers gripping his unruly curls like they're the only thing still tethering you to earth. His knees press into the worn carpeting of the trailer, his mouth latched to your cunt while his hands keep the fabric of your skirt rucked up at your waist.

You’re standing with your back pressed against the kitchen counter, your sneakers still on. He barely gave you a moment to settle yourself upon arrival before he was on you like a bad rash.

What can he say? When it all comes down to it, he’s a simple man, and you’re his favorite meal.

“Eddie,” you sigh, tilting your head back in bliss.

His tongue swipes its way through your folds before finding your clit and sucking on it. He can feel your body tremble, your knees nearly buckling with the overwhelming sense of pleasure.

His big brown eyes chance a glance up at you, at the exact moment you’re looking down at him. Your lips part in a moan, his tongue flicking rapidly at your clit, though he’s not sure if it’s that or the eye contact that forced the sound from you.

He’s guessing the latter, because something in your gaze feels different. The entire moment feels different.

Before, being intimate with you felt reckless, hot. Now it’s like he’s spilling every word he hasn’t said to you into the space between your thighs, hoping you’ll read his secret code. Hoping desperately that he’s not seeing this wrong, that you actually do like him as much as he realizes he likes you.

He needs to chill before he whispers an I love you right here on his knees.

He breaks your gaze after a moment or two, letting his eyes fall closed once more. He can taste how wet you are, he’s lapping up your arousal with every swipe of his tongue, and he honestly would kind of be okay with dying right here. His face is completely buried in you, nose bumping your clit, tongue on a mission to be as deep inside of you as possible.

You let your hips buck, nearly grinding on his face as he licks and sucks and bites, his ringed fingers squeezing the meat of your ass now.

“Eddie, ohmygod,” you cry, your white knuckle grip on the countertop keeping you from collapsing.

“What is it, baby?” he asks sweetly, kitten licking your sensitive bud before taking it between his lips and sucking.

That’s another thing, he’s started calling you all of these pet names lately. And the more he does it, the more he finds he doesn’t want to stop. He might actually be physically incapable of stopping.

“Feels so good, I—” you gasp at the sudden intrusion of two of his fingers. “I fucking love you,” you rasp out, your body reaching its peak at the exact moment the words escape you.

Eddie’s eyes shoot up to look at you, going impossibly wide. Yet he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, he brings you fully through your high until you’re shaking all over. Your words did nothing but spur him on, more determined than ever to bring you crashing down around him.

Only once you’ve come down do you seem to process what you said, and for a minute all you can do is stare at each other.

“Eddie, I—” you scramble, but he’s quicker.

“No. Don’t backtrack. Don’t do that,” he says, still on his knees before you. Still tasting you on his lips, still feeling you beneath his fingertips.

He rises to his feet, hooking a finger under your chin. You’re giving him that look again. The one that makes it seem like you want to kiss him more than you want to breathe.

And so he gives in. Lips smashing to yours, in a completely different context than any of the times before. He hopes you can feel everything he feels just through this kiss. Hopes he’s getting his point across.

The way you pull him flush up against you to deepen the kiss gives him the idea that his point was received.

Eddie Munson is great at this whole Valentine’s Day thing.

[messenger-of-babel]

Jason Todd Who...

Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Jason Todd.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: So this was supposed to come out a few days ago to maintain a 'one post a week' baseline, but my hometown kinda flooded, everyone got evacuated, I came back to work and my office building managed to flood and catch fire in the span of 24 hours. I'm still fine though! Currently splitting time with writing, work, and drying things out. Stay safe out there!

Love RiRi <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thinking about a Jason Todd Who…

Has no idea how exactly he got into a relationship with you. Well, technically he’d like to call it a situationship, since neither of you have decided to put a label on it yet. He’d helped you out post patrol one evening, Bruce doing his head in as usual. He didn’t plan on drinking that night, but he still pushed open the door to the bar, hoping he could at least chat to James, the bartender, if he was on that night. It turns out that James was, in fact, on shift and currently occupied in the back corner near the pool table. His ears switched into overdrive hearing the ruckus, the years of vigilante training making his senses kick in keenly to try and respond. That’s when he saw you, being restrained by James and pool cue in hand.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Laughs to himself as his first response to seeing a bar fight, your opponent curled on the ground from where you had jabbed him with the cue. When his eyes met yours, your form wriggling in James grip, he was oddly delighted to see the challenging glare you sent to him. After about twenty minutes of exchanged words and threats of security, James lets you go and you sit at the bar, fingers tapping the wood in irritation.

“You shouldn’t drink if you get angry, you know.” He grins, following your shadow to the bar and leaning on the nearby stool.

“I’m not drunk.” You defend, eyeing him up and down. “I made that decision completely sober.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, really? Do tell me what he did to deserve being attacked then.”

“He was being an asshole.”

Yeah, Jason was going to like you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Calls it a relationship to himself silently after a while but is still too nervous to say it in front of you. What if you didn’t think about it the same way? What if you were platonically getting coffee together every Thursday? That you only held onto him that tight when you rode with him because you were worried about falling off? That you were just friends that crashed in the same bed after a night out? He couldn’t help the flutter in his chest and the grin he wore so easily when you were around. He didn’t realise how much baggage he wore on his shoulders until you showed up and he felt like he could lift his neck for once. He knew he was fucked up, dying and coming back would do that to you. Yet he didn’t notice how the heaviness of it kept his eyes trained on the pavement, neck craning under the weight.

Yeah, Jason really liked you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Dreads you coming over to meet the family, protesting the entire time. Not only because it was pouring outside meaning he had to take the car (meaning he couldn’t feel your arms around him), but because he still doesn’t know what you are. He’s been meaning to clear it up with you, wanting to ask so desperately, but every time that he’s tried the words catch in his throat. Like he’s back to being Robin, the young boy now trapped in a body way too big for him. So instead he just tightens his hands on the steering wheel, lost so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the lovestruck glances you steal from the corner of your eye, or the nervous playing of your hands in your lap.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Is completely taken aback when you announce yourself as his partner at the door when Alfred asks who you are. His brain blanks out, just staring down at you with a wider than usual glance. His hands are frozen to his side, unsure of what he could do. What to even say. The old man just smiles when Jason flicks his gaze to meet his grandfather figure, the old man’s eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Then welcome in. Master Dick and Tim will be delighted to hear it.”

You smile so easily, so effortlessly as you take his hand and lead him into his own home (or ex-home as he liked to call it).

God, he liked you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Scowls when he sees Tim pay Dick a $20 under the table as you introduce yourself again, his older sibling figure sending him a shit eating grin as he pockets the cash in his front jacket pocket. He doesn’t miss the way that Bruce’s eyebrow twitches up curiously as you say you’re his partner, before that critical gaze flicks to Jason, silently asking if the information is true. He gives a short tense nod, and the billionaire grips his chin in thought before running a hand over his face.

That makes a flare of anger peak in Jason, but he squashes it down for the sake of Alfred and the dinner he worked so hard to wrangle everyone in for. You’re too distracted introducing yourself to Steph and Duke to see the critical glances Bruce sends you, the duo more than eager to engage you in conversation. He hates the way that Jason can feel the gaze of Bruce bore into his cheek, like he was trying to carve a his own bat-shaped scar next to the white ‘J’. He hated that gaze. The gaze that he could feel before he was told to ��take it from the top’ or to ‘do another set’. The gaze he used to try and thrive under when he was younger, pushing himself to the limits in the hope that it would soften up if he excelled. The gaze that felt like it was doing nothing but waiting for him to mess up, so it could devour him with sharp teeth and harsher words. He knew Bruce didn’t approve. Jason knew he didn’t care.

Jason liked you too much to let Bruce scare away his chance of happiness.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Has his breath stolen the moment you kiss him in the car. He feels like he’s drowning, but it’s the most blissful torture he’s ever experienced as you lean across the car console to cover his lips with yours.

“You were distracted at dinner.” You murmur softly when you pull away. Jason has to blink the stars from his eyes, his scarred hands twitching to rest at the back of your neck and pull you to him again.

“I was just lost in thought, that’s all.” He says back, fighting the tremor in his voice. Once again he feels like a young boy piloting a hulking, clumsy body, his mind and muscle out of sync. You hum in response, not fully taking his answer.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, calling myself your partner.” Your murmur after a slight tense silence. “I should have asked first.”

Jason swallows thickly. “I don’t mind.” He says quickly, a little too quickly if he was honest with himself. “I’m happy to try, I mean, if you want that.”

You smile, the sight that makes his chest flap. Like he had said the funniest thing imaginable, your sparkling gaze focused all on him.

You liked him.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Holds nothing back as soon as you two become an actual couple. He’s doing what he can (albeit it clumsily) to keep you around. He’s mostly mimicking other relationships he’s seen, readings articles on how to be a good partner late at night. He knows to be himself, he’s not an idiot. He knows that you would scold him if you saw the things that he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He had had relationships before you, of course. Yet the difference this time was that this was you, and he wasn’t going to risk it going sideways the same way the others had.

The biggest thing he had found was trying to keep you away from the other side of him. The side that donned a mask when the sun went down and staked out rooftops with a blue and black spandex clad chatterbox, and a caped brat. It had been easily enough when you were apart, but now that you were living together in his little apartment, it was getting harder and harder to sneak out of your arms at night and crawl back into them in the morning. He cursed the fact that you were a light sleeper, leading him to nearly being caught one too many times. He knew that you were getting suspicious, but keeping your reservations to yourself in the morning.

Bruce still didn’t like you, even more so now that you were closer to Jason’s true side than ever. But maybe Bruce did like you. That was a thought that plagued him, preventing him from falling into the sleep he so desperately needed after a long patrol. You were curled into his side, chest rising and falling softly.

Maybe Bruce did like you, and he was trying to protect you. Trying to keep you away from the potential heartbreak of losing him, which was a constant threat in this line of work. Maybe he was trying to keep you from being harmed, something that Jason feared constantly about having you close. Maybe Bruce was trying to save you because he did like you, and Jason was condemning you by being with you.

You move slightly when he shifts, eyes flicking opening groggily. Your normally bright eyes are cloudy with sleep, and you meet his gaze.

“Jay?” you mumble.

He grins softly, calloused fingers brushing a piece of hair from your forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Maybe Bruce did like you.

But Jason loved you.

[sailorsoons]

On the Clock | Teaser (c.hs)

Pairing: Vernon x f. reader

Summary: Modern problems call for modern solutions, including naming a random stranger in the bookstore as your boyfriend to avoid an embarrassing encounter with your ex. The problem? The stranger is Vernon and he’s not supposed to be a stranger at all - he’s your coworker, and now everyone at the office - including your ex - thinks you’re dating. 

Word Count: TBD

Genre: Faking dating, Coworkers to Lovers, Romcom

Type: Smut, some fluff and crack

 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Full fic warnings TBD but general warnings include explicit language, explicit sexual content, a little bit of a miscom trope, a hint of angst, a whole lotta stupid!

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab by @camandemstudios

Masterlist | Ask | Join Tag List

COMING FRIDAY, FEB. 14

“Well,” Vernon (from IT) eventually says. “No harm done once you tell everyone we’re not dating.”

“Once I what?” 

“Well you’ll have to-”

“No way.”

“What?” 

“Do you know how embarrassing that would be?” 

He raises a brow. “More embarrassing than grabbing some dude in the bookstore and claiming he’s your boyfriend.” 

The air leaves your lungs and you melt into the seat, your misery showing. “I already said sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Just tell everyone you broke up with me.” You snort. 

“No one would believe that.” 

“Why?” 

Instead of answering him immediately, you busy yourself unraveling silverware. It’s a hard question to answer, not because you don’t know the answer but because you don’t want to tell him. Vernon (from IT) is quiet, though. Patient. 

He doesn’t press you for an answer, happy to wait you out until you’ve folded your napkin and placed it on your lap, and once again drained the rest of your water. It does nothing for your nerves as you fixate on a spot atop the table. 

“I don’t… date.” 

“You dated Minho.”

“Yeah. That’s uh… it. It’s kind of a running joke that I am undateable.”

He frowns at that. “Respectfully, I find that incredibly hard to believe.” 

“Thanks. I think.” You pick at a string in the tablecloth. “Anyway, no one would buy that I ended the first relationship I’ve had since Minho. I didn’t even end the last one and sort of clung to it in a way that was sort of embarrassing.” 

“I see.”

You’re unsure if he really does. When Minho had broken up with you, you’d attempt to make arguments to keep him around. Offered less work hours, even said you’d go to therapy to talk about your insane need for success. He hadn’t wanted any of it, and you’d eventually realized that he just… didn’t want you. 

They never did, when people realized what dating you entails. Everyone wants a woman who works hard. They like the illusion of it, the woman who gets up early in the morning and goes to workout before going to her corporate job and girl bossing all day long. They desire the woman who dresses fashionably, who wears designer tags and commands a room all day before coming home to make an effortless dinner followed by a luxurious night routine. 

And you get it. You want to be that too. But the truth is most days you wake up past your alarm and rush to the office wearing shoes that don’t match, and sometimes you come home so late and burned out from your job that you eat a handful of shredded cheese over the sink with a stick of beef jerky, only to do it all again the next day.

That wasn’t what anyone wanted. At least, not in your experience. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “You’re right, or whatever. I should just tell them I lied. I’ve given worse news. Just you know - less personal.” 

For a few minutes, Vernon (from IT) is quiet. You don’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead you watch the ice cubes in your glass melt, little beads of condensation zigzagging down the curve of your glass. 

A sigh makes you look up at Vernon (from IT). “What if we dated for like a month or something?” 

“What?”

“I don’t mean really date,” he offers quickly, sensing your surprise. For some reason, that stings a little. You swallow it down past the knot forming in your throat. “It’ll get people off your back or whatever and we can just mutually end things.” 

“Really? You’d do that.” 

He shrugs a shoulder. “I guess, yeah.”

“You can break up with me,” you promise eagerly, leaning forward with the new promise of a solution to your problem. “Everyone will believe it. Just say I work too much and I’m too obsessed with my career.” 

An uneasy gaze flickers in Vernon (from IT)’s eyes. “It can be mutual,” he says firmly. “That way it ends nicely.”

“Fine. Everyone will think one thing anyway, you’ll get out without a scratch, trust me. Are you sure you’re willing to do this? I can… suck it up and tell everyone I made it up.”

“Do you really want to?” 

“No,” you admit.

“Then it’s settled.” He shrugs, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’ll give you a month and then we can mutually end things.” 

Sticking your hand over the table, you offer it for Vernon (from IT) to shake. His mouth twitches a little as he smiles, leaning forward to take your hand. His is warm and softer than you imagined, enveloping yours firmly as he shakes. 

“Deal,” you smile, feeling a glimmer of hope. 

Just like that, Vernon (from IT) becomes Vernon (your boyfriend). 

Sort of.

[austinsten]

I do not think that would be your fate.

What I always wanted for you was to be the fearless and bold like we both know you are. You are very strong and brave. Thats who you are and you shouldn't be afraid to show it. You shouldnt take anymore shit and you shouldnt give yourself to anyone that doesnt love you like you deserve. Even if you have to do it to me. In fact you especially have to do it with me. shut me out, threaten me, hate me. Fine, so be it. As long as you're standing up for yourself when you're right and taking accountability when you're wrong. If I can't have you at least maybe i can help you and someday you can find a guy who will treat you how I always should have and actually be ready to keep him. Is that weird? Idk you're the girl I've always loved so much I just want you to be happy. I feel like you never believed i loved you or thought you were the most beautiful woman id ever seen. You should be with someone who makes you believe those things. I know you also carry the same sadness and unbearable anxiety from childhood trauma. I know i broke your trust When I yelled. I pushed you away when you couldnt talk to me. That is my own trauma and was never your fault. Its still no excuse and I can't save face. i should have learned your love language a lot sooner. I know you just wanted to be held and kissed like there was only us. I lost myself feeling so alone and just CRAZY because I wanted you to fight for us with me, I wanted to hear every thought and desire you hadn't shared so BAD i just wanted to reach you and help you. I just wanted to do it for real without playing any games, without manipulation. It was so hard to find a middle ground between being loving and being firm to not feel walked on. I laughed when you were mad because it was the only time I saw you truly express yourself and i just loved you so much I couldn't contain it. It made me so happy just to hear what was on your mind. I never asked you how your day was enough, i never kissed you like i should have. It was never just about sex for me, i was nuts about you from the start. i was truly your love fool for so, so long. But i also knew you kept secrets between us and i pushed you way too hard about it, i understand there was overlap. Its hard to settle on a feeling about it because you also would not have put yourself in that situation again, much less so many times after, if you weren't seeking attention and you did actually regret it. I know you were broken and in the dark. But I've also accepted if I'd shown you the love you deserved you may never have sought it elsewhere. If things were good between us youd have never been with them. If we could just stop being so stubborn and be vulnerable enough to actually speak what were so afraid to. Its just sucks! Its so painful when we didnt even do this to each other were just fucked up from our childhood and cant stop hurting each other! Even knowing that. Sigh, i never wanted to make you feel small or unheard i was just so afraid to lose you! I never hated you I was just heartbroken. I wanted to stay forever, but we couldn't talk to each other. I just wanted the truth not more manipulation. I wanted to hear i was your love and the only man you wanted. Sigh. I never wanted to silence you or talk over you. Quite the opposite. I loved you in ways you may never understand and it's my own fault.

- What do you fear, my lady? - A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (2002)

[cherrycheolkat]

• random slutty thoughts - seungcheol •

seungcheol is a patient person - he knows you are trying to goad him into doing something and he doesn’t like it

the library is normally seungcheol’s sanctuary - it’s quiet - none of his roommates seem to know it exists - it’s his space

his only problem is you showing up and invading his space

there is literally every other place to sit, but do you sit in one of these other places? no. no, you sit directly across from him

even with a divider, he can hear every little sound you make

all the little sighs and random giggles are one thing, but when your foot bumps his repeatedly - he is sure he’s going to lose his fucking mind because why don’t you seem to know you’re annoying

in fact, he’s certain you’re the least self aware person to exist - personal space, what’s that for you anyway

but this is too much!

he’s had a rough day - back-to-back difficult classes - he’s gotten a snack and he just wants to stare at his computer and play games for like an hour without being bothered

but you are in his seat - you and your hair that smells really good (he had a class with you last semester, even sitting behind you was kind of annoying, but the impossible-to-name scent of your shampoo was something he did actually like)

he thinks of sitting elsewhere - but no, this is personal because you have to know what you’re doing

he approaches, huffy and pouty

he sees your screen and pauses - of course you’re playing the same game, but you still took his seat

when he taps your shoulder, you yelp and look back, face flushed

“what?!” your eyes are huge

he rolls his eyes, “you’re in my seat,” isn’t it obvious, he wants to add

you glance around and seem to realize, “oh - aren’t they all the same?”

he stares in disbelief, “no, they aren’t,” his voice is sharp

you sigh, “okay, princess, have your seat then,” you huff as you get up and collect your things

he doesn’t care for the remark, or the way it sticks in his brain like an earwig because really ‘princess’ was uncalled for

and when he happens to see you out the following night, you actually stop to talk to him

you smile cutely, “so princess, how’s the gameplay for you?”

he glares, he knows you just want to fluster him, “it’s fine,” he says coolly

but you’re not finished, you keep asking him questions - what kind of gameplay does he like - is he part of a guild

it’s only after you leave to get a drink that he realizes how long you’ve been talking to him - he wonders if you’ll come back or not

when you do reappear, you seem to be walking towards him, but you stop when another guy approaches

he decides he should go home anyway and starts to leave, tossing his cup in the bin as he heads for the door

he’s surprised when he feels someone pinch his ass and whips around

you’re standing there, staring, “who said you could leave? we haven’t even swapped game ids,” you pout

“did you just grab my ass?”

you nod, “yeah, it’s just so,” you sigh, “i just want to touch it, okay?”

he flushes slightly, “you have no understanding of personal space,” he tried to sound like he had some high ground to stand on

you laugh, “says the guy who played with my hair when he sat behind me!”

it was like he had been slapped, “that”— “i never!” he fumbled his reply

you are suddenly very close, “yes, you definitely did and i didn’t say anything because i thought it was kind of cute,” your lips brush his cheek

he swallows roughly, his mouth feeling dry

he feels your hand on his, the way you guide his hand between both of your bodies, then lower, he feels your hip, your low stomach - you keep pressing his hand lower, until his hand is between your legs, feeling the thin fabric of your shorts

he glances around quickly, sure that someone will see

“everyone is busy, princess, don’t look so worried,” he feels your hips press closer to his

he knows you absolutely don’t care that you’re surrounded by other people

he reflexively squeezes you, hearing your soft moan close to his ear, “play with me,” you whisper

“here?” he tries to sound confident, not insanely worried

“mhmm,” you hum as you kiss his neck, “make me come,” you whisper before softly nipping at his ear lobe

“can’t we go to the bathroom or something?” he tries again, hoping for a modicum of privacy

you sigh, “you’re such a worrier,” even as you pull away and head for the bathroom

once inside, you pull him close - the heat between you returning quickly

with a door between you and the rest of humanity, he was quick to unbutton your shorts and let them slide down her thighs, he marvels at your barely there panties and how wet they are

he pushes them to the side, working his fingers into you without a thought, and when you’re quiet, he’s almost disappointed

“this is when your quiet?” he needles

you smile and kiss him, “i can be quiet in the library too,” you quip

he’s surprised when you come quickly, he watches your cum dripping down to the bathroom floor - he’s amazed he got you off so well

he plays with your pussy idly, “that’s what i want to see you do in the library, leave a puddle under the desk,” he pushes his fingers back in - he’s sure your pussy basically sucks him in

you grin, “hmm, and here i was imagining sitting under the desk with your cock in my mouth,” you moan softly against his skin

he shrugs, working his fingers deeper, “it’s not like they’re mutually exclusive,” he reasons

you giggle, “fuck, stretch me more, princess - get me ready for your cock,” you mumble

he wonders if this has been your goal all along, but really who is he to question your motivation when you’re so wet and needy

[hitlikehammers]

(not your average) seven minutes ⏰ ♥️

or: what if Steve had been ‘playfully’ locked into a room by his drunken not-friends at that infamous Halloween party in 1984, for 💕Seven Minutes in Heaven💞!

…and no one realized Eddie Munson was already hiding inside 🫥

Steve just wants to get the fuck out of this place, this party, this fucking…bullshit life he’s found himself in. He’s not at his best, under-fucking-standadably, so when the drunk-ass Halloween masses push and shove and giggle as they lock him in an upstairs bedroom for—oh god, Seven Minutes In Heaven, what are they, goddamn twelve—he’s going to fucking scream, he— “Not quite what you were expecting behind Door Number One?” Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which sounds familiar and then also, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s— It’s a good voice, basically. And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak. Half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes and it…it does something. To Steve. It does something to Steve.

rating: t ♥️ tags: s2 era, alternate meeting, that ONE HALLOWEEN PARTY (you know which one), steve meets eddie immediately after nancy does her drunken bullshit thing, seven minutes in heaven meets truth or dare, (weirdly more effective than you’d think), first kiss(es), fluff, humor, boys being boys, climbing out of windows (like a ninja🥷), getting together (?) ♥️

again: originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo forever ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because it’s going to have a sequel show up soon for @steddielovemonth—which I thank profusely for giving me the kick in the ass required to revisit and actually try to finish this series!

“Oh my fucking god.”

Steve honestly doesn’t know if he’s going to start crying or throwing up quicker, like which one’s closest to the surface; keeping his balance as the shock, the jagged parts that draw blood when your heart gets crushed to shards leaving him susceptible—pathetic, fucking pathetic— to the pushing and pulling and grabbing of the throngs of trashed partygoers shoving him away from the front door, pushing harder every time he tripped up the stairs, laughing and yelling and chanting and fuck, fuck he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t want this, and he doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, just that it’s not his car, and then his house, and then his bed where he can…let it all come crashing down and not have a fucking audience, just: goddamn.

As soon as a door’s thrown open and she’s shoved to stumble hard, catch his nails to bending, bleeding against the light switch as the lock clicks behind him—well fuck.

He gets it now.

Fuck.

“Not what you were expecting behind Door Number One?”

Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which is familiar and then, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s—

It’s a good voice, basically.

And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak, half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes but…it does something.

It does something Steve doesn’t want to dwell on, the kind of thing he’s kinda been working really hard and doing pretty fucking well and not dwelling on but then…maybe like, any other night, any other hour of any other night? Steve maybe would have turned, and at least tried to force the door open; maybe he’d have pushed it down like he’s been getting real good at, almost to the point where he doesn’t even have to think about it, the thing itself or the pushing it down: in fact he’s absolutely sure he’d have done just that. Any other night. After any other fucking night.

But it’s all bullshit anyway, so like, why even bother, what does any of it even matter, Barb’s dead, blood’s on his hands apparently for a pool he doesn’t even fucking pay for, his love’s fucking nothing and the voice from the corner, hell, even the jawline the flame’s casting sharp every other second, every flip open then stealing away with every flip closed: that’s something and so, like.

Any other night. It’d be different.

But it’s this night.

“I wasn’t expecting any door except the one on the front driver’s side of my goddamn car, man,” Steve sighs and throws his weight against a dresser—plain. Really plain—kid’s room. Not too young. Boy’s room. Little brother of…fuck, Steve can’t even remember whose house they’re in.

“I can see where this would definitely count as,” Munson’s tongue runs almost contemplatively over his lips as he tips his head; “a deviation from the plan.”

Steve snorts; he means it to sound amused, because he is that. Honestly he is.

But it sounds like it get halfway there, before it nosedives a little into a half-stifled sob.

Goddamnit.

“You okay, Harrington?”

Oh. So not only is he recognizable, he’s also recognizably not fucking okay.

That’s just great.

“My girlfriend says I’m bullshit,” Steve has no fucking idea what makes him just say it, to basically a stranger at that, and fuck, no, not a stranger: this stranger, who Steve knows enough of but who Steve’s pretty sure knows too many things about him for comfort, just—he doesn’t know what makes him say it. “That loving her is bullshit.”

Actually: probably that’s it. Bullshit, versus something. Munson’s eyes stay fixed on him the whole time, even as he keeps flicking the lighter.

“Does,” Munson starts, and in his good-voice, he sounds almost, like, hesitant. Which isn’t a way Steve really associates with the guy, if he associates anything with him at all but apparently yeah, he does, because he’s absolutely certain this shit’s out of the norm: “like, not to be a dick, seriously,” yeah, yeah: this is like a gentle voice. Careful. Care…caring?

And, like…why?

“But does that mean she’s still your girlfriend?”

Oh. Pity might be why. That’s fun.

“Shit,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, fucks his hair up even more than it’s been which is possibly not even possible. “Probably not.”

Munson lets out a breath that’s almost a whistle, and looks genuinely regretful—again, why, most of the people he hangs out with would probably celebrate Steve’s suffering, so like, what the fuck—

“That sucks man,” Munson says, honest, like, really honest as he para down his…surprisingly tight jeans until he extracts a pre-roll from the front picked and holds it out in offering: “on the house.”

Steve needs that shit bad enough for it to be maybe the only thing he doesn’t question in all of this.

“Thanks,” he says as Munson holds out a light and Steve leans in; the guy smells of party sweat and too many bodies, of Kate autumn air and cheap cologne. He smells…

It’s a good smell. It matches his good voice.

“You wanna?” Steve offers on impulse after he takes a lungful and maybe a little more, maybe a little too much—greedy, needy, bullshit—and holds it back to Eddie as he breathes out slow, tries to keep it all in as long as he can but not…not in a pushing-it-down kind of way. More a making-the-most kind of way.

“Do you wanna?” Munson asks, eyes so wide, like a baby animal or something. Like a cartoon character. Steve just keeps holding the joint out to him, close enough that his lips will touch Steve’s fingers if he wants them to, and in Steve’s head he feels like he’ll call him Eddie, in his head, if his mouth brushes his skin.

It does.

Eddie it is, then.

And Steve’s real good at shoving down things like the way his heart skips and fucking jumps, runs a little—he’s good at it.

But not tonight.

“They always double the time, ‘specially when they think they’re being funny,” Steve licks his fingers where Eddie’s mouth had touched because why the fuck not, and he slides down the simple preteen dresser and leans back on the palms of his hands as he sighs out the words and the remaining smoke in his lungs, but let’s go of none of the taste he’d lapped off the skin around his knuckles. Not that. “Probably longer than that if they’re as drunk as they looked.”

“Ah,” Eddie kinda, almost, hums through the purse of his lips before he offers the smoke back Steve’s way, and if Steve makes sure his lips drag over Eddie’s fingers, what fucking of it. It does make the space between his inhale and Eddie’s willingness to say any more words out loud a long quiet pause where Steve’s pulse runs high between his collarbones but it’s…it’s not bad. And Steve kinda wants to keep that in his back pocket, for later: the thing he’s gotten so good and pushing down might not feel so goddamn bad, up near the surface where it’s still able to breathe.

Huh.

“So you’re up here on a mission,” Eddie finally says, a little choked but not like you choke on a weird drag, y’know? Different choking. Steve feels the urge to smirk and while he doesn’t give into it?

It’s definitely there.

“As far as they’re concerned,” Steve says with…Steve doesn’t know what he says it with. How he says it. How he means it.

“You don’t look drunk,” Eddie saves him from dwelling on that particular unknown, lets him course correct with a little scoff.

It also distracts him from how Eddie sits next to him. Not too close, but still pretty fucking close.

“I know my limits.” Which is why he takes back the joint without a single thought and does the maybe-too-much thing, because it feels good, and lets himself look for the taste of Eddie on the paper: salt and a tang of something and then sweetness, like fucking candy.

It’s a good taste.

“I’m probably a little drunk,” Eddie declares without sounding it at all, and taking to the eeed again without a secondly hesitation; “more like tipsy, really, if that, but still, totally not my style,” he frowns, like it really isn’t, like he’s disappointed in himself. It’s kinda…cute.

Fuck.

“I don’t touch shit at these parties but I was thirsty as fuck,” Eddie gestures with his free hand, and it’s the first time Steve’s notices how his run at glint: good hands; “haven’t eaten all day and thought I’d beat the punch spiking.”

“Aww, man,” Steve moans on Eddie’s behalf, sympathetic; “the punch is always pre-spiked.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie nods, holding the joint to Steve’s lips straight on this time, and Steve thinks nothing of breathing in without touching it himself, letting Eddie decide when to pull it back. “Point being, on an empty stomach, even one such as myself,” Eddie gestures broadly at his person with the nearly-spent smoke: “is not immune.”

Steve huffs a little laugh; he kinda wants it to be bigger but he’s feeling…soft. Nice.

Good.

“So we’ve got somewhere between seven and…” Eddie glances at his wrist as if he’s expecting a watch there; Steve wants to know if he forgot one he normally wears or if it’s all for show: “thirty minutes, by your estimation?”

“Thereabouts,” Steve shrugs. You can never really know for sure.

“You umm,” Eddie ventures after a few seconds; “you want to talk about, umm,” and he trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Not,” Steve’s saying before really thinking;“not really.” It’s actually kind of weird how much he means it, too. “I was trying to get home.”

“Drown your sorrows?” Eddie surmises, but Steve shakes his head.

“Wasn’t even gonna bother,” and his asshole father’s got the good shit, too; Steve probably could have managed a decent bit of wallowing with minimal hangover. “Just wanted to get out, clear my,” he clears his throat, though he’s not sure why, doesn’t really thing he needs it: “head.”

Then Steve turns to look at Eddie only to find Eddie already looking straight at him.

That’s…that’s something.

“Then they shoved me in here because they’re all fucking assholes,” Steve chuckles a little, does his damn best to make it clear he’s only calling the dickheads downstairs assholes; not…not Eddie.

Like it was an asshole move to shove him in here but, not because of Eddie.

Like, at all.

“And drunk off their asses,” Eddie grins, a very good grin, and Steve matches it as best he’s able because it means his comments landed okay, the right way; “swear I didn’t sell anything hard enough to be the culprit.” Steve snorts, and Eddie matches that and all the matching feels…it feels.

“It’s funny though,” Eddie comments, a little idly once the laughter’s echoed out. Steve tilts his head, all question.

“No one knew I was in here,” Eddie gestures to the whole of the not-very-big room. “It’d be one thing to prank you and shove you in here with me, ha ha,” he tosses his head back and forth and sticks out his tongue like Steve knows he’s done on the tables in the cafeteria more than once but it’s softer, here, it’s almost warm or playful and maybe a little self…deprecating? Steve thinks that’s the word but whatever the word is, Steve doesn’t love that it’s there alongside everything else.

“I mean, insulting as shit to you, so they probably wouldn’t have done that to you,” and Steve frowns because yeah, these parts are thinks he loves at all; “you’re still royalty,” and Eddie pops on an accent and bows his head and it’s not mocking like it would be in school, but.

Steve doesn’t fucking love that either.

“Fuck that,” Steve’s quick to kind of…bite out. Like, hard. “And hell, if I am fucking royalty,” he air-quotes the word because fuck it, fuck it all; “it’s not for much longer.”

Eddie settles, and watches Steve almost…careful. Like maybe he’s looking for something. Or else, he’s taking the time to really get something from whatever he does see.

It’s weird. Steve doesn’t know what to do with being looked at to be seen.

“Think I’ll be glad to be rid of it, to be honest,” Steve says, picks at the beds of his nails a little, something he’s learned from all the girls he’s dated for a few days here and there—distraction.

But he means it, he realizes that for absolute certain as soon as he says it.

“Huh,” Eddie finally says, and it’s said…like it means something.

Something maybe…good. Or like it could be. Can be.

Huh.

“Anyway, they would have thought the room was empty,” Eddie picks back up, stretches a little and oh. Oh wow, he’s got a long neck when it’s all stretched out. It’s…it looks good.

Then Eddie cuts his gaze sly toward Steve and smirks: “Who were you supposed to fucking have your seven heavenly minutes with?”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks lazily back in Eddie’s direction.

“My hand?”

Eddie’s eyes widen a little, and they’re…they’re really close, like, either Steve didn’t notice before or they’ve gotten closer.

Eddie’s lips are…really close.

“Oh, well,” those close lips are saying, but that good voice is kinda too-soft for the tease: “don’t let me interrupt.”

Steve blinks a couple times, to make sure he heard right.

“Sorry, that was—“ Eddie starts to walk it back but once Steve’s done with his blinking?

He fucking busts out laughing. Like…the embarrassing, snorting, pitchy kind of laughter.

“Funny,” he gasps a little, waving Eddie’s concern away because it was, it was: “That was funny, man.”

Maybe Steve thinks it’s too funny. But once Eddie shifts from shocked to something more like pleasantly surprised?

It feels like it was the perfect level of funny.

“Okay,” Eddie says as his grin grows but gets ducked into his chin, as his hand fumbles for a stand of his hair like he can hide behind it, which is silly, and weird.

And…endearing. Steve wants to see what that strand of hair feels like.

Also weird. Maybe silly. Maybe too much, maybe bullshit—

“Hey,” Eddie’s leaning toward him, and if Steve thought they were close before, that was a fucking lie in comparison because holy fucking wow, is Eddie close. He’s got freckles on his nose. Steve never would have guessed. “Want me to be funny some more?” He asks, a little loud, a little too bout any and bouncy and…like he means it, like he wants to be this thing but not so much for himself, or else not just for himself, but for Steve.

No one does shit like that for Steve.

“Your eyes are too pretty to be sad.”

Steve’s eyes aren’t too fucking pretty to nearly pop out their goddamn sockets when those words register in his ears, in his brain, make his chest tight in a kinda fucking terrifying way but such a good way and Eddie looks so scared, and Eddie’s eyes are too pretty to be scared and, oh shit.

“Truth or dare?”

The question kinda just pops out, which is…not ideal but better than his eyes doing that, so: win. And Eddie’s eyes shift from scared to stunned, confused—both better options. Double win.

“What?”

Steve clears his throat this time because you genuinely fucking needs it. “Gotta do something to pass however many minutes they leave us here, don’t we?”

Because it was definitely a seven-minutes-in-heaven set up. And Steve doesn’t know how long they’ve passed so far but he wants it to be a while longer that they’ve got left and distractions, distractions to keep from dwelling—

“Truth.”

Oh. Alright.

“Just my eyes?”

That, Steve clocks right after saying it, is the exact opposite of not fucking dwelling. He feels a little sick.

But his heart’s leaping like it’s never been free of a fucking cage until this moment, so it’s confusing.

Eddie looks confused too, so on top of it: Steve’s not even alone. In being confused.

And Steve’s alone so much. This is…kinda nice.

Kinda good.

“Is it just my eyes that are too pretty?” Steve says, for clarity. And Eddie swallows so hard Steve can hear it; fuck, he swallows hard enough it has to hurt.

“No,” Eddie says, tiny and faint before he straights his spine and looks Steve straight on: intentional.

Bracing for impact.

“Truth or dare.”

Steve’s kinda tired of being daring on principle. Generally. He’s terrified of the truth but…shit.

“Truth.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eddie doesn’t say it mean. But he does say it in a way Steve couldn’t have lied to him about if he wanted to even try.

He doesn’t though. Want to try.

“Literally or, like, figuratively?”

The implications of that answer hit a little belatedly and Steve feels his cheeks go read as Eddie’s breath punches straight out of his lungs:

“Jesus H. Christ—“

“No, to both,” Steve answers quick before he loses his nerve, because maybe the truth was as daring, more daring even, than anything else. “Not even a little bit. For either.”

Eddie’s throat works around words he doesn’t say for a long stretch of seconds. Steve’s heart’s in his throat so, he thinks he kinda gets the feeling.

“Truth or Dare,” he forces out. Because it’s his turn.

“Dare,” Eddie barely breathes. Steve wasn’t expecting that, but the ready response makes it clear that deep down, he was hoping.

“Give me my seven minutes.”

Eddie freezes. Coughs. Pales a little before he stumbles over words less like he’s avoiding anything and more like he’s really that unbalanced. Shocked out of sync.

“With your hand?” he asks, a little squeak in the pitch of his voice. “Like, turns my back, cover my ears?”

Steve huffs a nervous little laugh. Nervous but…undeniably fond.

“No, dipshit.” The implication is…pretty fucking clear.

“You’re heartbroken,” Eddie points out.

“Maybe less that I thought I’d be,” Steve answers honestly, surprises himself; and maybe that’s for a damn good reason, too. “You’re ‘tipsy’.”

“Increasingly less so by the goddamn second,” Eddie confesses, his eyes fixed to Steve’s lips before flickering back up, so so wide:

“Harrington,” he whispers, sounding kinda lost; “I don’t—“

“It’s fine, if you,” Steve’s quick to regroup, even though his pulse is trying to choke him—stupid, needy, idiot, too much, greedy, dumbass, fucking bullshit; “you can forget it.”

Steve would like to forget it, kinda immediately; letting himself want. Letting himself try.

“I don’t,” Eddie starts again, but Steve can’t stand it, can’t beat it: that good good voice trying to make this anything but a goddamn catastrophe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t like, mean to,” and fuck, Steve’s not only clearly suggested some very dangerous things about himself he’s only starting to even be willing to think about coming to grips with but what about what he’s assumed, implied about Eddie, guys don’t take lightly to that shit, oh fucking hell; “I don’t, you know, like, do this,” he tries to salvage, and even he knows it’s a pathetic attempt; “like this—“

“I don’t fuck around with straight boys as a rule, see,” Eddie blurts out in a rush, color high on his cheeks; “keeps my poor squishy gay heart from bruising.”

And Eddie; oh, oh—

Those eyes are too damn pretty to look so scared.

And maybe it’s less about truth being safer than a dare, maybe both are a risk in their own way and maybe…maybe both just require that you’re brave.

Steve can try to be brave, maybe. Just this once. This one night that’s different, where he’s not pushing it all down.

“If I told you,” he says slowly, so slowly because it’s hard to fight what he knows so we’ll; “if I said I didn’t know, yet, how much of a bend there might be in my kind of…straight?” Steve frowns, brow furrowed; that came out so goddamn weird, but he makes himself look at Eddie when he asks:

“Would that change anything?”

Eddie gapes at him, a little like a fish, and Steve goes back to the beginning: he’s equally likely to start sobbing as he is likely to throw the fuck up—but Eddie blinks, and his head tilts and he reaches slow, tentative, like he doesn’t know if he’s really allowed but also like he wants to make sure Steve can cut and run before his hand meets Steve’s cheek.

He is allowed, though. He’s…Steve is pretty sure he’s fucking welcome.

“Would,” Eddie murmurs incredulously, thumbing Steve’s lower lip before he does the slow thing, leaning while leaving an out but Steve doesn’t want a goddamn out.

He moves forward in a blink and kisses Eddie with all the skill and know-how he’s woven together into making the people he kisses feel good, and he puts his whole self in, all the concentration and focus and investment he’s got to make it…great, if he can.

But then something kind of wild happens.

Because it kinda feels like Eddie is…doing the same thing. Like Eddie wants Steve to feel all those things just as big and sure.

Steve doesn’t…Steve’s never been kissed like this. Like that. Like his half of the deal isn’t just a given.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, though: Steve has to run on pure instinct; his partner never does that shit first.

It’s fucking amazing. And given the moans he gets, the wet sucking sounds and the panting before they reconnect again, then again: Steve’s willing to bet his instincts are pretty solid.

They finally break for more than a second and Eddie’s hands come to Steve’s chest for balance as he gasps, as his hair falls in a curtain between them and Steve’s barely got the breath in him to speak yet when he covers one of Eddie’s hands with his own and half-whispers.

“Come on,” and he’s tugging Eddie to standing, both of them a little wobbly on their feet for a second or two before Eddie stills.

“We’re locked in,” he seems to remember in real time, like the whole kissing thing—not quite seven minutes; maybe more than seven minutes; not e-fucking-nough either way—knocked reasonable thought out of him for a second, there.

“The window,” Steve’s prepared for it, leads him over with their hands still kinda just covering each other, kinda holding one another, kinda a lot of things. “I’ve been here before, we can get out,” because yeah, he knows the house even if he still doesn’t remember who it belongs to; “and you haven’t eaten,” Steve remembers that clear as day, frowning at Eddie, almost scolding him.

Eddie lights up, though. Like maybe there are things no one’s really ever thought of for Eddie, too. Like, maybe Steve wasn’t the only one finding out someone could…pay attention.

Like he was worth paying attention to.

And like…Eddie? Steve doesn’t know exactly what to do with all the things that are tied up in everything he pushes down, where they’re bubbling up and seeping from his pore or some shit, but what he does know, without a doubt?

Eddie Munson is very much worth paying attention to.

“What the hell’s even open,” Eddie says, and Steve takes a second to add it up—food, he needs food—and he grins, and like…he kinda can’t help it? He definitely doesn’t think about it before he kisses Eddie, hard and quick and more smile in it than…he kinda remembers having, or giving, like…

More than he remembers. At all.

Huh.

“Benny’s if we’re quick,” Steve breaks off and pushes the window open; “otherwise the kitchen at Casa Harrington makes a hell of a TV dinner this time of night,” he tosses a grin Eddie’s way that’s nothing like he uses on the girls, he can tell, can feel it: it’s goofy and sincere and…yeah. “Probably got like a Salisbury steak one.”

It’s Eddie who leans, quicker and more like he’s stealing it, like he’s sneaking it and jumping back quick just in case he gets caught and it’s in doing that exactly that Steve has the incredibly clear sense, amidst all the unclear shit in his chest and his brain and his everything, that he…wants to catch Eddie.

“Fancy,” Eddie grins, and oh fuck.

Oh fuck, those dimples.

“Only the best for my honored guests,” Steve pokes one of those heavenly fucking dimples and oh.

Oh.

Steve’s making sure the window won’t fall on them as them climb down when Eddie leans close, looks down, and talks really close to Steve’s ear:

“They’re a reason we didn’t bail from the get-go?”

Steve wouldn’t hide the way he shivers if he tried.

“Honestly?” Steve chuckles, light with it, maybe…and he’s not sure okay, he could be making shit up and talking out his ass but, like, maybe he’s…

Free with it. Free with it?

He looks at Eddie who’s still grinning, dimples and all.

Free’s close enough.

“I don’t know, wasn’t really thinking,” Steve admits, and then tries the brave thing one more time: “truth or dare?”

Eddie’s answer is immediate, leaned close again against Steve’s shoulder, close at his ear:

“Truth.”

“Will you be angry if I said I wasn’t mad,” Steve turns, and their lips are so close: “that I didn’t think of leaving from the start?”

“Oddly enough?” Eddie grins so near that just the motion brushes their mouths. “Not even a little bit.” Then Eddie leans closer, means to, and doesn’t run like he’s stealing anything this time when he kisses Steve like he means it.

Then he’s speaking straight against Steve’s lips: “Truth or dare?”

And fuck it; everything’s been mixed up, shattered, rebuilt, turned inside out tonight. So far it’s turning out way better than Steve could have guessed. Definitely so much better than it started.

Might as well keep running with it.

“Dare.”

Eddie grins but there’s a heat to it, but then alongside, there’s something…mischievous. And then Eddie’s bumping his head into Steve’s and murmuring close:

“You climb down first and catch my ass when I inevitably fall halfway,” he issues his challenger; “I’m uncoordinated as shit.”

And Steve was wrong before.

The kiss he gives Eddie has more smile in it than he’s ever had, or shown, or shared before; not once in his whole goddamn life.

He could get used to it.

🧡

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[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and fluffy things I like to imagine with him. Part 2: electric boogaloo

logan has a soft spot for animals. He wont go absolutely out of his way i think to interact with them, but definitely has a mutual respect for them.

that being said, going for a walk with Logan, and a stray kitten comes up and absolutely WILL NOT leave logan alone. It adores him, screaming and climbing his pants. You of course insist on taking it home and logan grumbles over it but doesnt argue

cue all the moments of "dad who didnt want animal in first place" with logan as he treats it like his literally baby. Its young and still needs milk, and lots of tlc.

you wake up to him missing from bed one night, crawling out in search of him and finding him in the kitchen- babytalking and cooing the little itty bity baby kitten hes holding in his arm (imagine. Tiny kitten. Logans beefy arms. 😍) and bottle feeding it.

he gets so embarrassed when you catch him.

making him laugh. Like really. He's so stoic sometimes. hes sarcastic and has a smart mouth and really funny himself but not much gets him going

but you tell him a joke . or maybe a funny story of something that happened to you, or a funny limerick whatever okay

and he LAUGHS

its the first time you ever heard him laugh, probably the first time you ever made him laugh that wasn't a small chuckle (say you're still new to each other)

His laugh is just so warm and boisterous. It's a real peek into the kind of person Logan can be if he's in the right enviornment

that big cute smile, his low voice. that loud laugh. I mean honestly

making him laugh so hard he's crying and its uncontrollable

thats right baby girl

anyway

Logan loves listening to your heartbeat

lies on your chest and listens to it beat away. it's grounding to him, a reminder you're still here with him

Either with the X-men, or with Wades gang, Logan slowly opening up and becoming more comfortable with people- purely because YOU'RE there.

your presence reassures him so much

feeding each other

its natural too. You're just at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. you take a fork of your food, or maybe your french fries, or whatever and immediately hold it up to his mouth and he just eats it without question

Feeding him fruits, or chocolates, or a charcuterie spread AH *sigh*

Leading to having a picnic with him. He's a little unsure at first. I think depending on the logan you're picturing, or at least when you meet him, he may have points where he gets shy about dates and stuff

a picnic is one of those things. planning food and a blanket and all and it really does sound nice to him. Too nice. It feels unnatural to him and he doesn't know how to behave, maybe he doesn't think he deserves to do something so...domestic, and soft

you of course argue that "yes logan, you deserve to do picnics too."

Once you actually get him out though, he'll eventually relax, lying on the blanket, on a nice breezy yet sunny day under a large tree, arms crossed behind his head as you feed him grapes and strawberries and blueberries

"Yeah, okay, I could get use to this"

planning other dates with logan. for awhile it's something you take initiative of. But then Logan surprises you. He got you tickets to see a broadway show you've been talking about for months.

since then logan starts pulling his weight with planning dates. he always enjoyed the dates esp in the beginning. he just wasn't used to it, used to meaninglyess flings and lonelines. Sitting and trying to get to know each other was hard for logan bc he struggled opening up

for you tho he does

in a setting with the x-men, they all are amazed how easily logan trusts you. Even as just friends.

you do whatever to him and he just accepts it. He doesn't flinch. or scoff. or tell you to fuck off (sorry Scott. i know you were just asking for the salt). He'll give you his witty and sarcastic remarks but they tend to be a lot nicer and sweeter

he looks at you with a softness they're all confused by

well except jean and charles, they both see what's going on in his head. it's sweet actually

ororo actually picks up on it pretty quickly too

Scotts the one who's just confused but prob bc he gets the most abuse

sorry again scott

okay, not really a logan fluff relationship but honestly logan and scott becoming semi friends? I feel like hard feelings and annoyances aside, they could really get along. I don't know much about Scotts character but i feel like they're both men who can be great leaders and genuinely care about their people. Logan and Scott putting aside differences and going out for a guys night at a bar. Maybe some other X-men join to, but Scott and Logan talk a lot

Meanwhile you, Jean, Ororo, and a few other girls have a girls night

Logan opening up to Scott about how he feels about you (you're still friends at this point), he doesn't outright say that he's scared to make a move, mainly because he's scared of hurting you in more ways than one

Scott gives him a pep talk, male bonding. of course they end the night insulting each other but on the bright note they seem to come to an understanding

Logan is a very attentive boyfriend. He may act aloof sometimes but he notices EVERYTHING. Don't be surprised that your birthday and christmas gifts are always exactly the things you wanted even if you hadn't told anyone you wanted them.

You're teaching a class and logan stops by to give you something. He gives you a kiss in front of the class without thinking, and they're all "Oooooo"ing and "Aaaw"ing over it. Logan tells them to grow up, (They're 5th graders logan)

imagine shopping together, and logan picks out clothes he thinks would be cute on you. He finds a pretty sundress and practically demands you to get it. Of course you do. He ADORES you in that sundress. His hands are never off you when you wear it

It awakens something in him and he starts buying you pretty clothes he wants to see you in. He knows your size by heart, he knows what materials you like and what you hate, and the colors you despise on you (even tho he thinks you look good in everything)

Kissing each space of his hands where the claws come out. It's a gesture of love and trust. Logans scared of you doing it, afraid he'd somehow lose control but you reassure him. Now he loves it, and it truly makes him think that maybe he isn't such a monster if you could love him like that

You do his laundry for him. It's not like he asked you or that he doesn't keep the laundry up himself, you just do it, acts of service being your love language and he comes home and finds you did it and hes kinda shook because like...wow? being taken care of? it was so simply. its just laundry. But damn

Speaking of, doing laundry together.

I want to do laundry with Worst! Logan, we go to some 24 hour laundromat. maybe just neighbors but you've been flirting with each other, and consider each other good friends, the implication of something more. You're laughing and you guys have the place to yourselves. Logan feels safer than he has in a long time with you. Maybe share your first kiss, at 1 am in the laundromat.

I like to think about late nights in your study with Trilogy Logan, he hangs out with you, he already has trouble sleeping, and just loves your sweet company. Your conversations turn deep, maybe you had a recent mission that turned rough, and it literally turns into a love confession by Logan. You return the feelings, and he asks "Are you sure about me?", and you respond to him with an eager kiss, your arms embracing each other in the way those old romantic movies when they kiss (I use to be so grossed out by those and now I would love nothing more *dreamy sigh*)

I want to comfort Old Man Logan, maybe he had a really bad day, and disappears. You get Caliban to watch Charles for the night while you search for him, and you find him at a bar he usually frequents. Hes gruff but polite and tells you to go home and go to bed, but you urge him to come back with you. Eventually you get him to agree to at least come walk with you down the streets. He doesn't know how, but you draw out of him his worries, his fears - and they mainly revolve around you, this sweet little thing who came into this fucked up life of his. You reassure him that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, and you end up kissing him. He's shocked you like an old man like him, but...he'll take what he can get.

I want to be 70s DOFP Logan friend first, hes a menace, and he has fallen hopelessly in love with you. Much to your obliviousness, you think he's still a Casanova out in the bars- but hes spending his nights thinking about you. One night he has enough, and rides on his motorcycle down in the pouring rain and thunderstorm. He's at your doorstep and you open the door to this sopping wet creature and the first thing he says "I'm in love with you." with water dripping down his face. Then he pulls you into a searing kiss. (im writing a fic about this btw)

With Future DOFP Logan, he would meet you, a new professor at the school, and he's quickly taken aback. After some quite hellish adventures he's been on, you were a fresh breath of air for him. You both fall into something of relationship without realizing it- because it came so naturally. It's only one day you're talking to him, outside on the patio and he's smiling softly listening to you and he leans forward and pecks you on the lips. you look at him in surprise, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a real kiss

Origins! Logan takes you out on a romantic date, because he's classy like that. you share your first kiss over dinner, something sweet, and you could feel him smiling against your lips. He does it again after dinner, when he takes you home like a gentleman, you can feel his eagerness when he kisses you again, like he's trying to control himself, and he finally pulls away and wishes you goodnight (i mean, you're gonna have to invite him in)

97' Logan! He's giving you a pep talk after some bad shit went down on a mission, you feel like you could've done better, could've done more, even if everything you did do was enough. He's being unusually sweet and supportive and you leaned over and kissed him. You're surprised at yourself, but Logan isn't. He chuckles, telling you he gets it, he's irresistable, but then he kisses you again and can't stop (whos the irresistable one NOW Logan??)

I didn't mean for those to turn into first kisses prompts but enjoy. I have so many ideas of how first kisses with logan could go, these are just a few of many

pecking his cheek and his beard scratching your lips, but you actually really like how it feels

him rubbing and scratching his beard all over you to mess with you. It tickles but he's pinning you down and you're shrieking.

He keeps a picture of you on him at all times.

he loves hearing your stories. he wants to listen to you yap. he loves when you yap. even if it's useless stuff, the way you seem to enjoy and live life the way he never had before, he just can't get enough

helping him with his suit, you're zipping him up, but you press several kisses up his spine as you are zipping him. your lips sends shivers through him

helping him with a fancy suit. like suit and tie, (this would be cute for old man logan!). he's grumping and frumping about wearing it, but then you tell him how handsome he looks, and he smiles, and suddenly he's not so grumpy about it.

logan pressing soft kisses all over your face. bonus if it's after he hadn't seen you for awhile

okay but imagine after yall been together for awhile, maybe talking about getting a house together...

you guys "just look"

logan doesn't like anything. So he convinces charles to give him some land and goes and secretly builds a house for you. he recruits help from some others. he hires a designer to be able to get the parts he noticed you liked

you have NO idea. A year later, maybe 2, he brings you to it, and you're like "When did this house get here" and he tells you everything

logan definitely doesn't think things are "too much" when it comes to his devotion to you lets just say.

These are all i got for now! Keep an eye out for pt 3 :)

[suzukiblu]

Day one of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon sighs, then dusts his hands off and eyes Croc’s unconscious body, debating how the fuck he’s supposed to handle this situation. Fuck knows where the cops are, and there’s already a bunch of civilians taking pics and shit of him, so he really doesn’t wanna wait for ‘em. Also, like, explaining why he committed aggravated assault on a giant crocodile dude to the cops does not sound like his favorite time anyway, especially Gotham cops. He technically does have an emergency comm on him, but it’s obviously not tuned into any of the local Bat-channels and he doesn’t really know if he’d be able to sync it up to ‘em. 

Admittedly, Alfred is like, half a block down the street with a cell phone and probably already told his boss literally everything that just happened, but still. 

Actually, speaking of Alfred . . .

Kon refocuses his hearing back towards the limo, and hears–

“Wowwwww,” Jon says from the backseat, sounding awed about . . . something–who knows what, given he’s like ten and Kon doesn’t even know the grown-ass version of him well enough to know what kind of shit the dude thinks is impressive–and Alfred makes a little “hm” sound. 

“Mr. Kent, I do hope you’ve got an ear out,” he says, which even if Kon didn’t would’ve caught his attention pretty quick. “The police have an estimated time of arrival at two and a half minutes, and they were informed to come equipped for Killer Croc. Please do retreat out of the public eye for now, though I’m sure Master Bruce would appreciate the consideration if you wouldn’t mind keeping a bit of an eye on the situation until they have Mr. Jones secured. We’ll rendezvous with you on Pearl Street in seven minutes.” 

There is literally no version of Bruce Wayne that has ever “appreciated” a single thing Kon has ever considered in his life, except maybe for that one weirdo in Hypertime who’d definitely just wanted a Robin that was bombproof this time, but whatever. Kon nods once, short and sharp, and then takes off with superspeed in the opposite direction from Croc and the fucked-up street, if not Super-speed. That he saves ‘til he ducks into a conveniently out-of-sight alley, shoves the security camera over the emergency exit in the back of it askew with his TTK, and then takes off straight up into the air too fast for human eyes to follow. 

He should’ve avoided tearing up the street like that, probably, even if Croc and his boys had already fucked it up pretty bad. Didn’t mean he needed to go making shit worse. He’s maybe a little stressed, but he fucking knows better. 

Ugh. 

Kon hangs out above the heavy gray smog and cloud cover, wishing there were some sun up here instead of just moonless night, and keeps one ear focused on Croc and the other half-paying attention to the limo, just in case. The cops do in fact show up in two and a half minutes, and by then Alfred’s already taken Jon and the limo most of the way to Pearl Street. Kon can hear Jon chattering excitedly about something and Alfred at least making some more little “hm” sounds in response, though he doesn’t focus in enough to eavesdrop. Rude, for one thing, and also a distraction he should be avoiding anyway. 

He waits around to make sure they get Croc locked up nice and secure in the heavy-duty restraints and armored truck they brought without him waking up and taking anyone’s head off or anything like that, and it goes surprisingly smoothly for Gotham, though the cops have a fuckin’ time of it getting Croc’s K.O.’ed ass into the back of the truck. Kon would be more concerned about the possibility of a head injury with the guy staying out for so long, but a quick X-ray glance already cleared him for at least the first-aid level basics, so like, it’s probably that weird “toxic mobility” thing Tim was talking about that time he was explaining Croc’s whole thing to him. Or–no, “tonic”, and “immobility”. Whatever, he just knows Croc usually stays out longer than a baseline human would and it’s not a concern. Just some weird side effect of his whole . . . everything, basically. 

This is not in any way his circus or even his monkeys, but hey, why not be the interdimensional version of neighborly? Like, just while he’s in the reality and all. Lend the local Bats a cup of sugar, metaphorically-speaking. Batman’s gonna bitch about him doing it and how he handled it the first second he sees him, obviously–even after Alfred asked him to do it, he’ll definitely bitch–but whatever. He wasn’t gonna let anybody get hurt just because Batman gets pissy when vigilantes without any Bat-branding exist in his territory. 

So yeah, he waits around.

[betweenthescarletmoon]

Op wow yessss these thoughts are amazing. Thank you for helping me empathize with those that didn't like Jayce. It's true that it absolutely must've hit home for people, there's a reason why so many connected with Jinx and Viktor.

I do think the point of s1 wasn't to completely empathize with him, bc we're Told so much instead of Shown about his internal turmoil, his exhaustion from trying to uphold so much unprecedented power, even his underlying mental health issues that led to his obsessiveness and suicidality. The point was to understand his corruption/fall from grace arc. That's why I always say Jayce must be watched twice in s1 to at least begin to understand or even like him. It indeed took me a second watch to realize just how much he Tried, how every mistake came from a position of naive ignorance and the childish wish to magic problems away. His love for his city, tarnished into fear of the Outsiders' attempts to destroy it.

However, s2 seemed to back away from this narrative mentality a little. Yes, he paid for his crimes (I'd say far more than he perhaps deserved, but though he had no idea of the consequences of his actions, everyone would pay for it in the long run). And yes, he fought to make up for his mistakes. But I think his arc was fast-forwarded to the point that it falls apart upon closer inspection.

I will never understand what Truly made him kill Viktor, as much as I don't understand how he went from Feral Kill-mode to Actually I Admire and Forgive You mode. Abandoned political themes aside, Jayce as a character was reduced to practically nothing, aside of Viktor. Shock factor and shipping material, that's all he is in season 2. It's just. Depressing. Where were all these messages on bias, paranoia, vengeance, control, the dangers of technology, etc? He and Caitlyn had such similar themes—is this perhaps why they were separated so much? Why do we have such little of his say about HIS weapons? Why does he not want Jinx to pay for what she's done anymore? If he'd requested Silco to deliver her the Very Day of the bombing???

I have many more gripes but my point stands. Jayce is far too complex of a character to reduce him to pure likability and "does no wrong" mentality, but that's the arcane fandom for you. A fandom that excuses Jinx and Silco's actions, mind you. I also think Jinx was strangely absolved of her actions by the show itself bc of fan reception of her and it makes me Sick. Or perhaps this is just a side effect of the little time they seized in deepening their arcs. (I think a fourth act would've done this story wonders.)

Sorry for taking over this post to be arcane critical but i fully agree with you op. People who see Jayce as Who He Is acknowledge that he is flawed, AND appreciate his character for it. The writers should've trusted their original decisions about this, instead of diminishing him to nothing.

spicy take of the week but i feel like the arcane fandom has really overcorrected with the jayce hate to the point where they've flattened him into someone who does no wrong/ has only done wrong because he's like 'too nice' or 'too good' or whatever. i feel like it really flattens his character and takes away from how much he grew to act like he didn't do some really fucked up shit in season 1

[persicipen]

𑑛 “IN HIS HANDS” ﾉ ALHAITHAM. GENSHIN IMPACT

gn reader ﾉ words 1.4k ✘ you’re a mess (affectionately). needy making out. sweet bantering. also fingering. he gives you the best orgasm of your life ✘ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Whatever has happened between you two — an exchange of sorts, that’s for sure, filled with misunderstood sentences and apologies and laughter — now dawns on you in the form of his handsome body closing the distance between you two. Alhaitham grins at that, such a smug smile of victory painting his face because he’s well aware that your initial reluctance was because of your bashfulness.

Still, he’d appreciate it a lot if you weren’t so quick to call him a blockhead when denying what you truthfully want. He knows you don’t mean anything bad by it; just some harmless teasing to get back at him when he makes jokes about the time when he couldn’t speak right with a hint of self-derision.

“I’m starting to think you’re too scared to admit I will make you feel a tad too good, hmm.” His lips find yours once again, but this time they have no hurry — the kiss is deep and passionate and every inch of his body comes to meet with yours, trapping your frame underneath.

“You t-think of yourself too highly!” You bite back with a giggle before a low moan of contentment escapes your mouth.

For someone so inscrutable around the edges he sure knows how to work that tongue, tasting every part of you with utmost care. In between kisses, you realise how silly all this is. Why can’t you just let go of any formality and give in to such a splendid idea? If not for you, then at least for him; he seems to have much better plans and an even absurder mind than you ever dared to explore. Surprisingly, as stiff as he appears at first glance because no way anyone would assume a scribe has such lewd thoughts running wild behind those turquoise eyes.

Well, you aren’t so dull-witted either. A bold move of your fingers against his pants makes him hum a wee louder, which encourages you to act with a bit more urgency and tug at the buttons to get them loose. Albeit it takes but one swift movement from his hand to stop you from doing so — he grabs your wrist midway and pulls away just enough to look down at you with mischief gleaming in his red irises. The kind of gleeful expression only a man who knows what’s coming next would show.

“Tch, how impatient can you be…”

You should’ve counted his remark as a threat given the treatment that follows. You should’ve known that the greatest weapon of the scribe is his fingers. And so, with touching and pressing and tapping and massaging, he moulds your body into that pliant self. His name leaves your lips as a quiet sigh, all previous complaints forgotten thanks to such attentive and tender ministrations.

No matter how heavenly it feels already, being touched and taken care of like this, your gut churns with frustration and dissatisfaction since his actions are purposely geared towards getting you riled up instead of helping you reach any sort of release. Though you aren’t about to ask for that with words, not yet anyway. If he needs more incentive to keep going further, though…

You attempt to untangle your trapped arm once again, fumbling a little while holding onto his shoulder. He arches an eyebrow with curiosity when his own light gasp breaks through the facade of such an adept liar. Still, the twitch and swelling of his cock in his pants confirm how much it took out of him to keep silent thus far.

“Why won’t you let yourself go, too?” You breathe out once your wrist is freed. The pads of your fingers tease his jawline, ghosting over his skin until they dip below his chin to lift his head slightly. He is confused by your inquiry, but not discouraged, per se, especially now that you look quite motivated to get him hot as well. “You think the only one enjoying this should be me… What happened with ‘I also deserve some of it’, huh?”

Your free hand slides downwards to grasp his crotch. Through the thick fabric, you notice how hard he is; that must’ve been painful indeed. It’s enough evidence for you to rub and squeeze a little, which prompts a satisfied growl from him, a sign that you’re right on track.

“Later. It is about you, after all.” His response comes in the shape of kisses along your neck and collarbones, though never enough to bruise — merely a tiny amount of pressure for you to remember it’s he who left them there.

At times, it almost tickles how delicate his lips are upon your skin, like feathers falling down a flock of birds flying high in the skies. The warmth that emanates from them, however, reminds you of where else you’d like to feel those lips. Alas, he works on you with his thumb and his other digits instead, stroking in circular motions that cause goosebumps to run up and down your whole figure.

It isn’t long until you arch your back ever so slightly, trying to escape what’s beginning to drive you insane; or at least crave something more than that. Every nerve under your sensitive spots is alight, yearning for more stimulation than his meek actions, even when that palm of his brushes against every sensitive area that turns your vision blurry.

You beg him to slow down, to give you some time to relax after barely reaching your high; he is merciless, dragging the pads of his fingers against the spongy spot deep inside of you, trying to force out of you another cry of pleasure. It crashes upon you like thunder during a heavy storm. Alhaitham’s touch makes you clench and curl into yourself without an ounce of shame. All of your attention lays solely on those fingertips dancing so flawlessly through your throbbing body, driving you mad.

His eyes, burning with a prideful need to prove his knowledge, are focused on your glowing face. Absolutely mesmerised by the moans escaping your mouth, Alhaitham finds a great passion in making you a mess — it feels so good knowing he can reduce you to such a state, mewling his name with tears gathering under your lashes.

He takes you into his muscular arms, tongue licking your tender skin, leaving behind wet trails. A shudder runs through you as he pulls back, your body falling limply on the plush mattress below you. His breath is heavy and ragged, looking at you like this — with lust. Once he is satisfied, he lets go of the last drops of moisture that managed to make it to your thighs. He draws himself closer to you, resting his forehead against yours as he whispers sweet praise into your ear.

“You were doing so well…” Spoken in his breathy, shuddering voice, it echoes through your heart, down to your core clenching on nothing but the remaining wetness.

It only makes you feel even more sensitive than before, and you cannot help but let out an audible moan again. You can almost hear the sound vibrating throughout his body as well, and he knows he will not have the strength to stop now, especially after what just happened between you. He kisses your neck once more, his hand reaching underneath your blouse, running his rough fingertips along your skin.

You whine again, sensing goosebumps rise all over your figure at his touch. He begins kissing all of your face, leaving you gasping for air. You close your eyes tightly and try to keep your breathing steady, but his hands roam through your chest, teasing you in a way that seems to know your weakest spots — driving you crazy.

After a while, when his lips leave your skin, the scribe rests his chin on your shoulder, both of you staring at each other without saying a word.

“Are you still okay?” he asks softly, a gentle smile playing around his mouth and his fingers trailing gently up your stomach.

“I am. I’m sorry I ruined the bedsheets though,” you say apologetically, feeling the embarrassment creeping up your spine.

You have never done anything like this before. Never experienced anything of such intensity.

“It’s fine,” he replies, a small laugh breaking past his lips as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again…” he whispers seductively, his gaze fixated on yours.

Your cheeks burn, and you nod slowly, biting your lip as you turn your head away from him, trying so hard not to show how affected you are. It isn’t easy, seeing Alhaitham looking at you in that kind of manner. How could you refuse this man?

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

Mimzy

Mimsy was an interesting one to work on. I wanted to make sure she looked inhuman like the other characters, but without making too big of a change. Canon Mimzy basically just has the black eyes and sharp teeth.

She's apparently loosely based off a chicken, which is why she has a hooked nose. But I knew pretty early on that I wanted to use peacock colors. It also helps increase the color variety of the cast by reducing the red.

More notes under the cut, including human Mimzy

Face: I gave her face markings that resemble running mascara, because I figured she wanted to be a showgirl or movie star or something. But she kept getting rejected, so she cried a lot. And apparently "mimsy" was a word coined by Lewis Carroll and is a blend of "miserable" and "flimsy".

She has vampire fangs for two reasons:

1. She leeches off others. Alastor was missing for 7 years, and the first thing she does is dump her problems on him.

2. In the 1920s, there was an equivalent to femme fetale called "Vamp". Vamps were more or less extra promiscuous versions of flappers.

Hair: An iconic 1920s hairstyle was finger waves. I made them a bit loose, because I didn't like how it looked plastered to her head.

I know she has a tattoo in the show, but I don't know how important it is for her to have it. So I just didn't bother with it. If it becomes significant, I'll add it back in.

Mimzy said that she and Alastor ran in the same circles while they were alive. He frequented the club that she sang at. But she also sounds like she's from New York, so I'm not sure how/why they ended up in the same place.

She died in the 1920s in her late 20s or early 30s. Not sure how she died.

1920s fashion--

I'll try to keep this brief. You know the stereotypical flapper dress? With the fringes? That wasn't really a thing. The style was slim, dropped waist, and no curves. The clothes weren't heavily tailored and just draped over the body like a potato sack. Fringes happened occasionally, but not often. More common was beading, pleats, tiers, and ruffles. The skirts were shorter than in previous generations, but they were still below the knee. Sometimes the stockings would be rolled down so the edge was visible--Scandalous!

While I appreciate the body diversity with Mimzy, she is honestly not an ideal choice to show off 1920s fashion. Plus sized women would utilize vertical lines to help create the illusion of thinness. So I changed canon Mimzy's film strip motif and made it vertical instead. Historically, the top would not be so form fitting, but I'm claiming that modern influences got to her a little bit. But in her human design I'm claiming it's just stylized.

The stereotypical flapper dress better resembles showgirls and lingerie, imo. Not entirely sure what to think of that, but there it is.

Makeup--There are two makeup styles to go over. Regular and movies.

Regular is fairly straight forward. Pale skin. Black eyeshadow(or a color that matched the eyes). Thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows that look kinda sad. Lips with an emphasized cupid's bow. Rosy blush on the center of the cheeks.

Movie makeup: I went down a rabbit hole with this topic. It gets pretty interesting, but I am simplifying a lot. I also only know the basics.

The 20s was a transition period of the types of film used. There was the older orthochromatic/blue-sensitive film, which struggled to pick up warmer colors. Reds ended up darker than they really were, and tended to emphasize facial blemishes. This was counteracted by lighting and makeup. They used Arc lights, which gave off a blue-green light, were noisy, and hard on the actor's eyes.

The idea was basically to wash everything in blue light, to counter any reds present. Then they just had to worry about values. White or creme makeup was used to even out the skin tone (At least for white people, didn't find anything for other skin tones, but I imagine the basic idea would be similar). Then dark blues were used to contour the face, enhance definition/contrast, and mimic blush. Light blues would act as highlights. The lips would vary based on if you wanted a natural look or not. Greens and yellows could get a natural to dark lipstick appearance. If red was used, it could only get a dark lipstick look. Overall, the actors would have looked pretty weird.

If regular makeup colors were used, then everything would end up looking too dark.

Panchromatic film started becoming more widespread by the late 1920s. It had a wider range of sensitivity(but was still more blue sensitive than the human eye, which is more yellow sensitive. Reds were difficult for film even into the 21st century. That could lead me into a tangent about the Raimi Spiderman films, but I'll hold it in). They were able to switch to incandescent lighting, which were quieter(important for the rise of "talkies") and easier to maintain. The way makeup was previously used in movies was essentially invalidated.

(Below)I'm not sure what type of film the left side was designed for exactly, possibly panchromatic(because the green and purple is an interesting choice) or early color. But the right side is for blue-sensitive films.

I guess I bring this up because it's interesting, and helps me justify her blue-green color scheme.

I think that's everything relevant.

(edit notes will go here if needed)