#damn u government

[mrmeepsmadmind]

idw bumblebee and prowl shouldve broke up bcs he wouldnt stop 𝚊sking prowl to pause his report for just one lil astrosec so he can change his various pastel colored pens while making his cute little aesthetically pretty for no reason & very time - consuming notes with big colorful fonts & cute designs real quick

also another thought abt annoying ass bb trying to make running a literal planet cotteque so he doesn't go crazy bcs hes now a politician when all he ever wanted was to deliver mail & smile & wave at bots who call him cute ---

bee: 𝚠heeljack, im so sorry about this but do you mind repeating the time-stakingly long introduction, instruments, research references, modules, hypothesis, counter thesis, procedures, analysis, second - retrial, results, & explanation that you just spent 700000 earth hours saying because i was busy drawing a cute little bee in the corner of my notes please :] ?

wheeljack:

idw bee trying to run a planet that fucking hates him is just rlly funny to me, especially since everyone views bee as the goody character who everyone loves & he views himself as that & then they finally win this consuming war & he can reap his rewards of being loved without holding a gun & no one fucking likes him. hes even getting on his own old team's nerves & not in the loveable scamp way but the get the fuck out of my face way

[bandomgay]

If u voted third party u failed everyone your little ego thought you could save people who keep saying this election has no right to effect the entire world your right but actually think twice about the queer and non white minorities in your own country's if you actually cared Abt anything except for blaming people you don't even think about when you say the word "Americans" (especially if your white saying this) see how they are doing gn

[tommyshelbysrighthand]

I got that barely contained insanity rizz

[binghe-malewife-goals]

[my life crumbling around me] ahah time to be silly on the interwebs :)

[cosmicdenro]

hope u guys don't mind me being a little queer sometimes and talking to myself in the tags, it helps clear my head since people can filter out rant posts easily

[gurorori]

how i wake up knowin lgbt ppl have lost all the specks of rights we've ever had in this country & no one will ever talk abt our issues other than ourselves cuz we r worthless in the eyes of current world

[fadewalking]

unpopular opinion but being old is not an excuse to not know the basics of how to use commonplace technology

[tiodolma]

Hot take but dark magic users should still be respected and allowed to exist as a subset of the magical community as long as they self-regulate and dont enroach on other people or creatures who do not share their beliefs.

Branding a whole group as "evil” just because they do not have the same moral high ground as you is just prejudice and bigotry.

Yes I am addressing Gaius.

[blakyoo]

ill be real chief if i keep meeting cool people everywhere except where i live ill freak tf out in acouple years or maybe months

[kitwilsonsass]

okay it's been like 20 seconds and they've talked about bulging sacks, worshiping on knees, and putting people on their backs.

*puts hands on hips*

I'M STARTIN' TO THINK THIS AIN'T A REAL CHRISTMAS STORY

[trans-seraphim]

Most of the “anti British memes” are just classism anti poor memes cause you ever noticed the but the of jokes are always accent’s associated with working class brits

Whenever the rich brits are mentioned it’s always in a positive manner like “ooo it’s such a cool dark academy vibe” or “oh I love there accents so formal and polite”

Like your not anti British your just classist

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they are in a vampire au ❀ ˎˊ- characters: blade, dan heng, dan feng, march 7th, himeko, jingliu, jing yuan, kafka, luocha, sampo, caelus, stelle, yaoshi ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of mentions of blood and wounds, the typical vampire stuff, talks about scents, usage of the word "feeding", intended lowercase, mentions of alcohol in kafka's part, caelus/stelle may be ooc :| ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: NEVER REALLY ANNOUNCED IT BUT YAHOO HERE U GO !!! THE WINNER OF THE POLL WAS VAMPIRES, SO LETS GO ITS BITING TIME HEHE <3 different format bc damn thats a lot of characters i dont have banners for... also first time writing them women so scratches head sorry if it's ooc teehee i tried

vampire!blade, whose bloodlust runs deeper than most. his desires drive him to the brink of insanity at the slightest whiff of blood, the former human despising the animalistic tendencies that now governed his existence. with his enemies, he is content to lick their blood from his face, finding no remorse in the blood of the dead. but when he dares to drink from you, he is gentle - cautious. always his eyes are watching your own, especially before he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. for blade is prone to losing himself in the taste of you, and he fears he may go too far.

vampire!dan heng, who despises his species more than any hunter out there. he longs for the normality and companionship of humanity, and often hides his vampiric traits in public as to masquerade as a human. the only time he'll satiate his desire for blood is when he's on death's door; and even then he'll only settle for blood bags at the dead of night, away from any of the eyes of his fellow trailblazers. when the time comes and you offer your blood to him, dan heng is reluctant, hesitant. never in his life has he fed on another, and you can feel his inexperience in how he cautiously sinks his fangs into your skin - opting to kiss your wrist rather than your neck, just in case he lost control.

vampire!dan feng, who will outright refuse blood that he deems to be unsatisfactory to his palate. even if his dietary needs are considered monstrous by other species, that doesn't mean that he himself needs to be barbaric. dan feng treats blood as he would wine - like a delicacy, only to be partaken on occasion. but all of that is thrown out the window once he tastes you for the first time. when dan feng drinks your blood, he does it with the tenderness of a lover. always, he keeps you against a comfortable surface such as a bed or a sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, taking his time as he savors you like a fine dish.

vampire!march 7th, who never really questioned why she needed to drink blood to survive, and always deemed it as normal. although, she doesn't really consider it cute, claiming that it "ruins her cute-girl aesthetic". as such, she won't talk about it unless you start the conversation first, preferring to disguise her blood intake in the juice boxes she keeps around. even when she does drink from you, it's in small sips, a mere nip before she's off to doing something more fun. don't take it personally, march just isn't fond of drinking from another person. she appreciates you offering, though!

vampire!himeko, whose taste is questionable, even for a vampire. for a second, you thought that her horrendous taste in coffee came from her background, but no, it's just himeko being himeko. unlike her other companions, himeko isn't ashamed of her needs. if she needs blood, she beckons you from across the parlor car, taking your arm in her hand as she gently bites your wrist. there's something playful in the way she drinks - she's gentle, yet doesn't treat you as though you're made of glass, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she licks the wound on your wrist.

vampire!jingliu, who makes sure you understand just what you're getting into when you offer your blood. it's hard enough to keep both her mara and her bloodlust at bay around you, and even harder to control herself when you're so willing to help her. time and time again she warns you, saying that she may not be able to control herself once she gets a taste. but if you're strong and brave enough to feed her despite the dangers, then brace yourself, for jingliu won't stop until she's fully satiated.

vampire!jing yuan, who loves to nip at your fingers playfully, flashing his fangs whenever he can. honestly, jing yuan's the type of person to forget he's a vampire until the time comes and he needs to feed - and even then, it's more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. but that won't stop him from messing with you, after all, he loves the disgruntled face you make whenever he pretends to snap at you. however, when jing yuan does drink from you, he prefers to take it from the back, hugging you from behind as he languidly drinks from your shoulder - making sure the process is as painless as possible.

vampire!kafka, who teases you when you first find out of her species. are you afraid of her now? how cute, but really, there's no need to be afraid. she wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. kafka can't help but laugh as you playfully hit her for her words. can you blame her, though, when your reactions are just that endearing? kafka isn't one to take blood directly from the source, instead, she prefers to drink it in a wine glass, mixed with some sort of alcohol to really amp up the effects. having both wine and blood in one drink can be quite intoxicating to a vampire, but kafka wouldn't be kafka if she were afraid of the after effects.

vampire!luocha, who becomes addicted to your blood the second he tastes it. over his lifetime, luocha has tasted the blood of many, each with their own flavors - ranging from savory to sweet to downright disgusting. but with you, the drinking of blood is less so a matter of feeding, but rather an intimate act between lovers. he is tender as his lips latch onto your neck, his arms wrapped around you and hands massaging you to ease you through the process. and through it all, his eyes forever hold your gaze as he tastes heaven once again.

vampire!caelus, whose inexperience often makes him dangerous. caelus doesn't know how to deal with his urges, nor does he understand why a hunger builds up within him whenever he sees an exposed patch of your skin. he's a sweet guy, no doubt about it, it's just that he doesn't know how to stop. it's up to you to guide him and tell him when to stop, for caelus is young, and doesn't understand the durability of the human body compared to a vampire. but he's willing to learn, even if it means driving off his own needs in favor of yours. the last thing he wants to do is to hurt you, after all.

vampire!stelle, who nuzzles up to you whenever she feels the slightest thirst for blood. like caelus, stelle has no idea what she's feeling nor how to deal with it. when she starts getting hungry, she becomes clingy - she starts hanging around you more, often staring at you and leaving you to wonder just what it is she wants. it's only when she starts tugging at your sleeve that you realize that she's hungry. when stelle drinks, it's... well, it's not as unhinged as caelus, but she still lacks the control as he does, and you have to tap her head to snap her out of it. but when she's done drinking, you can't help but coo at her adorable face, like a kitten full of soup.

vampire!yaoshi, who prefers to give their blood rather than drink it. they would hate to put anyone in danger, after all. but alas, their instincts won't disappear, even after their ascension to aeonhood. ironic, isn't it? the giver and sustainer of eternal life is also the same one who drains that life. when they feed from you, they prefer to have you in their arms as they do, your back pressed against their chest as they drink. they whisper sweet nothings each time they rise from your skin, their tongue licking at your wound to soothe you. but it never hurts when it's with yaoshi - perhaps it's the dew from yaoshi's trees that numbs you, or the poison in their tail. if anything, you feel as though you are in a hazy dream, not yet asleep, yet not quite awake either.

[b0tster]

but also god damn name changes are redic lmao. u really do just be paying 65 dollars and being stuck in a government building for 3 hours doing fetch quests just so they can stamp a piece of paper u filled out lmaooo

[bxeckersz]

prank | Paige Bueckers x Black!femreader

summary: Paige decides to prank y/n by calling y/n her ex’s name while making a tiktok

(btw im black myself)

warnings: language

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Baby! come make a TikTok with me. The people wanna know how we met!” Paige calls out to me. “alright” I say, getting up from the couch and walking over to the table, sitting down.

I watch as Paige sets up her phone, starting the timer. “okay guys, so today me and Lana are gonna tell you guys how we met since ya’ll wanna know” Paige says.

“What?” I say, my brows furrowing. “huh?” She says, looking over at me. “What’d you just call me?” I say. “what do you mean?” She says. I shake my head at her.

“So me and Lana actually met-“ Paige says before i cut her off. “Stop fucking playing with me, Paige” I say, my tone stern. “what?” Paige says, acting clueless.

“like i was saying me and Lana met through Nika” Paige says. “Don’t piss me off, Paige. Seriously.” I say, rolling my eyes. “Guys i don’t know what’s wrong with Lana today” Paige laughs.

“Paige Madison Bueckers.” I say. “Chill on my government name now” Paige laughs. “You play too damn much. Stop playing with me for’ I beat yo damn ass.” I say, making eye contact with her.

“Baby, it was a prank i’m sorry” Paige laughs, hugging me. “you’re not funny.” I say, rolling my eyes. “sorryy” She says, hugging me tighter.

“Get off me. You’re pulling my hair” I laugh at her, ending the video that was recording on her phone. “You scare me” Paige says. “Good” I reply, walking away.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: she scares me guys 😭 @whoss.y/n

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬:

@whoss.y/n: u think u funny w all these pranks😒 ♡︎ 131

^ @paigebueckers: sorry bae ☹️ ♡︎ 345

@uconnwbbfan: Paige looks so scared of y/n 😭😭 ♡︎ 190

@kkarnold: Paige y/n is gonna beat you one day if you keep playing with her 😭 ♡︎ 209

^@paigebueckers: no shes not 👎👎 ♡︎ 29

^@whoss.y/n: yeah ight ♡︎ 265

@azzifudd35: leave y/n alone 😂😭 ♡︎ 37

^@paigebueckers: its fun making her mad ♡︎ 46

^@ice.bradyy: i hope y/n beats you so bad one day leave her alone ♡︎ 56

^@whoss.y/n: 😭😭😂 ♡︎ 20

@inespbettencourt: now paige when y/n beats you one day dont say nothing ♡︎ 78

^@paigebueckers: 😂😂 ♡︎ 89

@paigesbiggestfan: i live for these pranks 😂 ♡︎ 12

@uconnwbbislife: im dying this is so funny😭 ♡︎ 25

𝐓𝐀𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

i js thought of this idk 😭😭. thanks for reading all the way throughhh !!

[urhoneycombwitch]

hold me like water

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie. 

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall. 

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud. 

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously. 

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head). 

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more. 

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks. 

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries. 

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.” 

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips. 

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers. 

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf. 

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore. 

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home. 

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of. 

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends. 

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry. 

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.    

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds. 

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh. 

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release. 

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to. 

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap. 

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good. 

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness. 

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths. 

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you. 

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along. 

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it. 

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing. 

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge. 

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze  and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity. 

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through. 

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time. 

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops. 

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye. 

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest. 

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is. 

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

[writteninkat]

Special Forces | Bakugou x Villain Reader

synopsis: You've decided to turn over a new leaf and leak intel on the League of Villains, sending the government’s special forces straight to your door. One tiny hiccup—their potty-mouthed leader has his sights set on making you his next target.

w/c: 3.2k

warnings: bondage, oral (f&m receiving), pervert Bakugou, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight exhibition, not proofread !!

a/n: you've imagined special forces bakugou before. don't u fuckin lie to me

navigation

"I smell a rat." Dabi narrows his eyes at you. "Shigaraki go take a fucking bath." You quickly deflect is assumption, making Twice and Spinner cackle out loud.

"How about you shut the fuck up." Shigaraki sneers at you, resuming whatever the fuck he's doing on the paper on his table.

You return your gaze at Dabi, glaring at him.

Okay—he definitely called you out. But no one at LoV has any reason to believe him. You've done your part in the group; terrorized innocent civilians with a grin so wide your cheeks hurt at the end of the day, tortured members of the police with a straight face, and followed Shigaraki's orders quietly with no questions. But they've been taking twice as much time these past few months.

You've been duplicating each and every document your stand-in leader has sent you, and have been sending them to the Heroes Association under an alias. Hawks has been trying to track you down, asking pressing questions about you to Dabi. But that man never talks—god bless his heart, and you're always hiding whenever you catch a glimpse of those red feathers.

All that damned association knows is that they've been getting pretty intel regarding this cursed group from a nameless and faceless informant. They should stop looking at a gift horse in the mouth, especially bird man. But his ego's hurt because someone is giving out better data than him.

"You smell like blood." Toga points out, smiling up at you with a feverish smile. The first time you met her, she was sweet and cute. That was quickly squished the moment you saw her fight. Now, she gives you the heebie jeebies.

"I'll go wash up." You mutter, unable to cut the eye contact until you had to physically force yourself to look away.

As you walk towards the stairs leading to the basement, you feel Dabi's piercing eyes on you. God, you hate it when that man stares at you like that. He never fails to send goosebumps scattering your skin. He somehow makes your blood boil with the absence of anger, and something tingles. You don't know what, but something definitely tingles.

You ignore that usual feeling when it comes to the dark-haired man and continue down the basement and into your room. Quickly turning the lock, you strip out of your boots, leggings and halter turtleneck, undoing your ponytail to quickly enter your bathroom. Doffing off your underwear, you turn the knob and let the cold water spray your body.

Fuck these villains. They bring nothing but havoc and destruction. If you're going to ruin people's lives, at least get rich too.

You look down, taking note of the pinkish liquid going down the drain. One thing about wearing black- it's difficult to spot blood. Especially when you're constantly staying at low-lit areas.

You sigh, "Guess Toga wasn't lying."

You massage your scalp with your favorite sweet-smelling shampoo, rinising it out before applying conditioner, clamping it up as you work through scrubbing your entire body.

If you were going to live with the rats, you made sure to at least clean yourself properly every time you shower. You were a villain, not a monster.

As you begin to finally rinse off everything, you feel the air growing uneasy. The con with your rooms being underground is that you can never hear what goes on upstairs and vice-versa. You hate not knowing what's going on, so you quickly but thoroughly rinse off your body, wringing your hair before wiping your arms off with a towel.

You manage to begin your shoulders when a loud bang freezes your body.

Fuck.

Your eyes are wide as you look around your small bathroom, looking for a way out. Of course you don't find anything. This is underground, for god's sake!

You drop your towel, activating your quirk. Red aura engulfs both your hands as you get into a fighting stance. Whoever was outside your bathroom door, they knew exactly how to be quiet. They were good at it.

One second passes.

Two.

The air is stuck in your throat and you feel like you might throw up.

Three.

I should just go out there and start killing the first person I see. My members be damned.

Four, five-

A loud explosion has your bathroom door flying off it's hinges and towards you. Quickly, you use your quirk to destroy it into splinters.

Your quirk- red ruins. Telekineses with a hint of disentigrating everything in your path within a hundred mile radius. Yes, it's incredibly powerful and violent. Problem? It's strength depends on your cardio. And you hate exercising.

"Whose pussy do these pretty panties belong to?" A deep voice rumbles through the cloud of smoke and dust. The scent of burnt sugar fills your nostrils before the sense of dread washes over you like a bucket of cold water.

There's only one person in the Heroes Association who is widely known for such a scent.

"These smell incredibly sweet." In front of you, a man five feet and eight inches tall stands. On his head is a mask that covers almost everything but his vermilion eyes. His hand is raised to where his mouth and nose are located, and it has something pink and lacey crumpled in it.

"Panties..." You breathe out, watching Hero Dynamight take a deep breath in, smelling your panties without shame.

He has on a fitting shit with a bulky vest, cargo pants and boots. Any other time, you'd find it incredibly hot. Especially with the way the sleeves of his shirt struggle to enclose his biceps- biceps so big they look like they take up your entire thigh. Maybe even more? [Any other time], not now, though. His palm is glowing orange and one mistake will have you burnt to crisps.

"They are. Seem familiar?" He asks, dangling the small piece of fabric in the space between the two of you. Ypur cheeks flush at the obscenity unfolding infront of you.

"Yeah, they're mine. Give 'em back." You demand, holding your hand out as he simply eyes it.

"C'mere 'nd take 'em then." He teases, hanging the strap of your underwear on his pointer finger. You frown, taking a step before stopping yourself. You use your quirk to flick it from his fingers. Right before the lace makes contact with your palm, a white steel-wire encircles itself around your wrists, pulling you forward, making you wat dirt.

"What the fuck!" You exclaim, trying to get on your hands and knees but Dynamight pushes you down by your head with his booted foot. With your head turned to the side, you strain your eyes to the corners, watching him catch the thin scrap of fabric easily.

You begin manifesting your quirk once again, but come to a dead end when nothing happens. "What the-?"

"Technology is amazing these days, isn't it?" He chuckles, playing with the lace between his gloved fingers. "It's managed to copy Aizawa's quirk. With this, those smartasses integrated the power into this scarf."

He takes his foot off of you, replacing it with his hand instead. "Whatever target this scarf is locked to, their quirks vanish like that."

You helplessly try to push him off of you, but with little to no strength training, you're a puddle of defenseless goo underneath him.

His eyes lock into yours before drifting down your naked back, piercing onto a part you know very well. Right below the middle of your back, the words "Favorite crime" is tattooed in a type writer font. It's quite small, four inches long, inked when you were seventeen after deciding maybe the good citizen life wasn't for you when the government took both your parents and labelling their quirks as something 'hazardous' to the public. They helped you escape but that left you with nothing.

It's cringey and cheesy, but you were only seventeen.

Five years later, and you don't regret it.

"Maybe you will be." Dynamight mutters, smirking as he grabs you by your hair, looking deep into your eyes. "Pretty." He grunts before flipping you around, pulling you to your feet as he wraps the scarf around your wrists.

"Let go of me!" You demand, the feeling of being pulled up by your wrists forces you to stand on your tippy toes. Barely.

Dynamight has you hanging by your wrists onto the shower curtain rod, the scarf disabling your quirk. You take note of your naked state, your cheeks flaring at how exposed you are for him.

The hero's eyes glances you from your hands to your toes, agonizingly slow, before making it back up your cunt.

"Which part of our interaction did you like?" He takes a step forward, unjustly stealing the last bit of air between the both of you. Caramel and smoke fill your senses, making you light-headed.

"Was it me stepping on you? The simple fact of being held down? Or being tied up? Huh?" He stands toe to toe in front of you, having to crane his neck down at your short stature. He slips his gloves off, showing off clean fingers.

"What's got you this wet, baby?" With that, his fingers press against your cunt, moving across and between your folds.

Your back arches at the lewd feeling, a moan threatening to escape as he finds the ball of pleasure in your center, making you bite down on your lip.

"F-fuck! Fuck!" You whine, your thighs squeezing together, wanting to stop his hand from moving but [needing] to keep it there.

Despite being villains, the group you joined in engage in everything [but] sex. For months, you've been teetering on the edge, unable to find the time or energy to get off.

Now, however...

"Such a soft cunt." Dynamight whispers, pushing a digit inside. His thick fingers surprised you, causing a loud mewl to slip from your lips. Without warning, the hero shoves your panties inside your mouth. "I've got my squad upstairs, can't have them hearing that pretty voice of yours."

His digit continues pumping inside you as his thumb traces circles on your clit, your body shaking in pleasure. "You should see how you look right now, pretty girl." Dynamight grumbles, pressing his forehead against yours. "Gonna cum for me, pretty? Gonna cum for your daddy?"

Your eyes roll back and nod your head as your legs begin to give out from under you. Just as you're about to climax, he drops to his knees, pulling his finger out. He hooks his thumb under his mask, swiftly taking it off, revealing his blond locks and hellishly beautiful features.

You look down at him, just now understanding the term "pretty like the devil".

He replaces his finger with his tongue, burying his face into your cunt as he sucks. He lifts you up by the backs of your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders, tongue-fucking you until you're seeing stars, your thighs shake as his abuse on your clit fail to falter.

"'S even sweeter from the core." He grumbles into your cunt, lapping up your juices until your muffled whines tick him off.

He pushes your legs off of him as he glares at you, standing up to his full height once again. "You just don't know how to shut up, huh?" He tilts his head to the side, undoing the scarf bounding your wrists in one swift tug. You fall heavily on your knees, unable to collect yourself when he tugs on your hair, forcing you to look up. He pulls the panties from your mouth, pocketing them.

You meet his fiery gaze, but your eyes quickly drop at the sight of him undoing his belt with one hand. The scene has your pussy pulsing once more.

I may be a slut.

He makes quick work of his belt and button, but he stops there. He bends over, tying your wrists together behind you. "Take me out." He orders, his grip on your hair tighter than before.

"I- What?" You ask, confusion distinct in your voice. He's bounded your hands behind you, how the hell does he expect you to work?

"With your mouth." He answers, as if reading your mind.

Your cheeks heat in embarassment but you quickly gather yourself once more. Raising yourself up a bit, you bite down on his zipper, pulling it down. Underneath it, you find the outline of his cock under his boxer briefs, hard, big, waiting. At the tip, you find a damp spot.

Precum?

You look up at him in question and he looks down at you with a brow raised. "Well? Keep going." He urges you by pulling you towards him, your face pressing against his cock.

You bite down on the garter of his briefs, pulling it down the best you can. You catch sight of a patch of blond hair and before you know it, you've pulled down enough for his cock to spring out, hitting you on the cheek.

Dynamight smiles maliciously, giving your head a soft tug. "Open." He whispers.

You follow his demands, parting your lips.

"Wider."

You follow once again.

"Even wider, pretty. You're gonna have to do more than that if you want me to fit."

You glare at him. Cocky motherfucker.

Instead of doing as he says, you stick your tongue out, licking him up from base to tip. Dynamight lets out a deep grumble from his chest, but you don't stop as you toy at his tip, tasting the salty precum, smearing it around your lips.

"Stop bein' a tease and wrap those pretty lips around me, darlin'."

You bite down on your lip before opening once more, taking him as best as you can without your jaw falling off. Dynamight's breaths are erratic and inconsistent as you hallow your cheeks, sucking him as hard as you can.

"Fuck!" He breathes out, his hips fitful as you take him deeper, the corners of your eyes stinging with tears at the feeling of his head touching the back of your throat.

You pull away quickly, creating a string of saliva connecting his cock with your lips as you look up at him. "C'mon pretty girl, I know you can do better than that."

You look back at his cock to see only half of it wet with saliva. Your heart poinds in your chest at your new goal—take everything Hero Dynamight has without throwing up.

Fucking gag reflex...

With new incitement, you find your lips wrapped around his cock once more, only this time, you try to push yourself down, closer to his base this time.

You swirl your tongue around him, thinking about anything else but his tip slipping down your throat an inch every moment.

His hot, must scent.

His big fingers gripping on your hair.

His cock inside your throat-

And with that, you trigger your gag reflex, the movement of your throat tightening around him has the hero moaning loudly. He pulls his hips back for a moment and you begin to thank multiple higher beings for such sweet air, but the prayer dies quickly when the blond pushes himself back in.

"Gods, this mouth was made for fucking." He cries out, looking down at you. He continues thrusting with reckless abandon, the muscles in your throat constantly tight.

God, if you exist, please don't let me get a sore throat tomorrow.

His hips snap with hasty thrusts, his moans bouncing off the four walls of your bathroom, and his fingers dig even deeper through your hair, on your scalp.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cries, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as tears run down your cheeks, snot trickling down your lip.

With one last thrust, he buries himself down your throat to the hilt, your nose pressing against his blond patch as he comes down your throat, his chest rising and falling rapidly, jaw clenched, and eyes brimming with desire.

When he finally pulls out, you fall on your side, coughing and gasping for the dear air you've craved so badly. Your thighs clench together as you think about what you believe is to be the single most hottest thing you've ever done.

"You like that, you little slut?" The hero taunts, pulling you and dragging you through the floor by your ankle. He pushes you on your back, hands on both sides of your hips as he taps his dick on your sensitive cunt.

"Hold on a minute-"

Without wasting another moment, he pushes inside you, your walls stretching for him in welcome. His size has the air inside your lungs locked in, your lips part and you have the strongest urger to scream. But you can't.

He's just so...

"Big!" You manage whine out, making Dynamight cackle. "Fuck yeah, that's right pretty." Unlike the throat fucking, his thrusts this time are slow and languid. As if he has all the time in the world.

"You take my dick so good, pretty girl." He praises, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel every detail. Every vein, every curve, every pulse.

Slowly, you begin to notice his thrusts progress faster and faster until loud slaps fill the bathroom. Your tits bounce with every drive, making the hero slap them once, twice- before grabbing onto them forcefully, tugging and playing with your nipples.

Your breathy whines begin to join his whispered cursing, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel the impending feeling of an orgasm right at your fingers.

"Open your eyes for me baby." Dynamight whispers, "We have company."

Your eyes instantly open, the hero pulling your hips up as he fucks you, leaving your head on the floor. His eyes are trained infront of him, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. You follow his line of vision and your eyes fall upon an upside down sight of Red Riot. His eyes are wide, jaw slack, and a tent evident in his pants.

Immediately, your orgasm takes you, waves upon waves almost drowning you. The feeling of your walls clamping down on him has Dynamight chasing after his own high. Just when he reaches it, your pleasure ceases. He grits his teeth, slapping your overstimulated clit, forcing another orgasm out of you as spills inside your cunt. You scream and shake through this one, tears streaming down your face as you thrash away from the hero.

You're out of breath, sweaty, sticky with cum and your body feels like it's a heartbeat away from collapsing.

"Not gonna lie, that shit was hot but..." You hear red riot chuckle and through your blury vision, you see his red boots infront of you. He's crouching over you, the movement on your wrists a tell tale sign of the scarf being hndone. "Will she be okay?"

"My pretty girl is a strong one."

My pretty girl...?

"Don't tell anyone else about her." Dynamight orders.

"What are you-"

"I'll take her to my place, so keep your mouth shut and I might share her with you." You can [hear] that bitchass smirk in his tone.

A moment passes.

"Alright." Red Riot finally concedes, "What are you gonna do with her?"

You feel rough hands pull you up until strong arms engulf you.

Who's carrying me? Red Riot?

Sweet caramel fills your senses.

Dynamight?

"Whatever the fuck I want." The blond spits and by this time, your eyelids have fluttered shut.

"Be careful with her, Bakugou." Red Riot hastily adds.

"Bakugou..." You whisper before nothing.