#hhh so many tags

[torra-and-the-toons]

Actually, what if they all had tails?

Specifics under the cut:

Joy - Dog. Good for wagging when happy.

Anger - Dragon. Pretty self explanatory.

Fear - Cat. Puffed up 99.9% of the time.

Disgust - Rat. Thought to be gross creatures but are actually one of the neatest.

Sadness - Snow Leopard. Icy, cold, the tail simply drags on the ground behind her.

Anxiety - Lion. Courageous. I count this one as per-existing even though I can't find the original image I saw of her with a tail.

Envy - Squirrel. Just for the cuteness. Her tail is larger than she is.

Ennui - Monkey. Prehensile tail for holding things and hanging off stuff.

Embarrassment - Bear. C'mon, it's right in his name. Stupidly adorable just like him.

[oracleact]

« nothing on me »

bayverse raph x reader / fluff + angst

notes: 1.8k words, first person pov, established relationship, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used,) details of injuries and tending to said injuries.

a knock on the window at 3am? that only means one thing: the turtles are here. smiling, I rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes and hop out of bed to open up the curtain. only one turtle faces me at the window though - raphael.

I open the window and help his wide frame step down from the ledge, but my previous smile fades fast when raph groans in pain as he steps onto the floor.

“raph, what’s wrong? where are the rest of the boys? what happened?” I speak as fast as possible to try and get to his answer, worry eating away at me with each second that passes.

my raph is the mass strength and rough hand amongst the turtles. he can handle a lot of damage since he always manages to deal out more than what is done onto him. seeing him bent over, actually using my arm for support and not simply holding me because he wants to, groaning in genuine pain rather than letting out his usual gruff noises of acknowledgment - that scares me. it terrifies me when I don’t know what has happened.

“I told them to check on dad,” he begins breathlessly, “I needed you. it’s really bad this time.”

my eyes widen and I hurry him to the side of my bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. I grasp his face in my hands to check him over, turning his head every which way, but see nothing apart from a few new scratches on his skin.

“what do you mean ‘really bad,’ raph? you’re scaring me.”

“my—“ he lifts his arm and tries to reach for the back of his shell, failing miserably and almost howling out in pain, “my shell, sweetheart. I haven’t seen it yet but I heard it crack and this pain is too much for it to just be taped up.”

I scuttle around his large form and am immediately hit with the sight of a deep crack in the middle of his shell. he was right to come straight to me with this one. he should always come to me with injuries but is too stubborn most of the time and rides out the pain: ‘it may look bad to you but it’s nothing on me.’

when the boys started to properly use their skills outside of the lair, with the risk of larger injuries increasing, I began to research and teach myself how to handle ones specific to these mutants. thanks to many in depth articles about turtle care, I have safely cleaned and covered up small cracks before. the only difference between the boys and ‘normal’ turtles in regards to care like this is their size - it takes longer and requires more focus to clean cracks, ensuring that they can heal appropriately over time. although tonight’s damage will take double that, and maybe more.

“oh raph, oh my…how? wait, don’t answer that. I’m doing my first aid stuff then we can talk about it, okay?” he nods with a sad smile and all I can do is reach out and cup his cheek, returning the expression he gave me. he moves my hand to his lips for a quick kiss before I start scurrying off to grab what I need.

let’s see - chlorohexidine solution, q-tips, cotton pads, adhesive patches and a towel. is that all I need? I have no idea right now; I’m so scared to touch him that I feel like stalling for as long as I can.

I walk slowly back to where he sits on the edge of my bed, his head resting in one hand as the other rubs at his tired eyes. I lay down all that I grabbed from the bathroom before taking a deep breath and sitting down behind him. the room is silent for a couple of minutes after that, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I can’t break my anxious stare away from the crack in his beautiful carapace.

“hey…” raph speaks ever so softly to get my attention.

“yeah— sorry. I’m sorry,” I feel tears begin to form in my eyes. I hate seeing him hurt like this. “I’m going to fix you up. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll touch around your shell, away from the crack, and you tell me how it feels. let me know how much the pain has spread.”

he gestures ‘yes’ to me but with a frowned brow, “don’t cry, love. everything is okay. I’m raphael, remember? this is nothing on me!”

but I can see it - I can see the pain written on his face, the way his eyes look misty. I don’t want to push him to talk nor do I want to directly acknowledge the pain I can see; I don’t want to break his protective wall at a time like this. it wouldn’t be fair to do so. I wipe my tears and get straight to work instead.

my small hand reaches out for him, gently patting around the edges of his shell then smoothing over the surface, “that’s not bad at all. it just feels tingly, like the nice kind of tingly you give me.” I giggle at him. it’s a relief that the shell hasn’t shattered or anything and he can feel my hand like always.

I’ve spent so many nights tracing over the faint patterns of his plastron and committing the texture to memory. it helps calm him after a stressful training day or when he can’t sleep. it secretly calms me too because it’s just us in those moments, the rest of the world fading away and leaving only raph and I. there’s no need to jump away from my hold to save new york when my touch melts away the city completely. nothing can break us out of that warm paradise as long as we are together.

despite the touch test going well, the cleaning of his wounds will definitely be painful since the crack is open and noticeable. I pour some of the solution onto a q-tip and tell raph to start breathing slowly and deeply. I help him set a pace for it before I begin to clean.

he hisses in pain when the piece of cotton comes in contact with the wound and my tears start to flow again, “I know baby, but this part is important,” I sniffle and reach my free hand for his, “use me to balance yourself.”

“I’ll break your little hand,” there is a fracture in his voice as he speaks but he still manages to let out a chuckle with his words.

“breathe and squeeze, raph, don’t worry about me.”

and so he did - each time I dipped the cotton into the crack he inhaled and exhaled quickly whilst grasping my hand in his. I rubbed my thumb over his rough skin in an attempt to ground us both over and over again.

“one last clean and then I’ll patch it up and be done for tonight.” he lets out a loud sigh at that, obviously glad that the stinging will be over soon. I hear him lowly whimper but force a cough after in an attempt to hide the noise. once again I don’t press him on it, I just kiss the back of his hand to let him know it’s alright.

the last step is to cut adhesive patches to fit the crack, making sure to leave small gaps at the ends to allow air to flow through. this process isn’t all that different from putting a bandaid on a human arm, and thank goodness for that. I want to do everything I can to help raph, to ease his pain, so this being a somewhat ‘easy’ task to complete means luck is on my side right now.

with the last piece secure I get up from the bed to face him again, giving him a small smile to let him know it’s done. I slip myself between his legs and reach out to untie his bandana. his eyes close as he presses his head onto my chest to give me access to the tie at the back.

sliding the cloth from his face, I set it on the bed and wipe underneath his eyes; he looks so worn out. my fingers move down to draw along the scars from previous battles and to check over any new cuts, the pad of my thumb eventually landing on the most prominent scar across his upper lip. my raph, my hero, our hero…with the scars to prove it all.

“give it a week and see how the shell starts to heal. if we need to do more then I’m ready for that. I’ve done my research, you’re looking at a certified mutant turtle nurse,” I wink at him as he laughs and nuzzles further into my hold.

he looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, the light of the moon catching in them. he may be hurt but he’s here with me and healing in my arms, and I’ll hold this man forever to show him how much he means to me. he’s looking at me in the same way - in awe of what’s in front of him - both of us dumbly grinning at each other. although, he does break eye contact when a yawn suddenly comes bursting out.

“do you want to talk about what happened, or do you want to catch some z’s first?”

“hmm…as much as I want to tell you about how much of a badass I am, I really want to crash.”

he moves to lay on his back before I catch his shoulders with high pitched squeak, “shell!” I whisper-yell at him. his lips form an ‘o’ and I shake my head. only raph could forget about his injuries that quickly.

I slip into the bed first and hold out my arms, beckoning him to follow and to lay on his stomach. he does so almost instantly, getting comfy against me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you for everything. I trust you with my life, you know.”

“and I trust you with mine, big red.”

I’m seemingly stuck staring down at him, just in stupid awe once more. watching how his eyes are effortlessly closed, evident that he is exhausted, with a faint smile playing on his lips as he shifts around to find the best snoozing position. his shell is now what catches the attention of the moon and I feel satisfied with my work on the crack. I’m still worried but the patch looks good and secure from afar so I’ll take it for it now.

I’m so happy that this brave and unstoppable mutant turtle trusts me with his open wounds, with his physical and emotional scars, with his love and being. this life of ours is crazy in so many ways but I wouldn’t ask for anything to change. well, less wounds here and there would be nice but that might be asking for too much.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi? Gosh how do I even start with this :'D

I know it's been ages since I've last popped up on here. I've been debating when to post this for a while, but I kept adding to my draft more and more and now it's the end of JULY omgg I felt so guilty disappearing with zero updates but then thought my birthday would be the best day to finally address this considering it'll feel less random? idk but Ive always celebrated my bday with you guys and I'd feel so bad answering your kind asks without me at least explaining why I was gone for months.

Truth be told, I was dealing with a lot of stuff irl. health issues and sudden declining grades that left me stumped and drained for months now- along with technical issues like having to replace some parts of my computer that took a while for me to find to even draw digitally, which I didn't have the time for anyway with how tired and weary I felt every day.

I'm frankly shaken up by a lot of shit rn and I don't know how to be active online with this burden on my chest- Especially as it's been a while since I've even looked at utmv related content and my motivation dwindled. I swear I'd hype myself up to post or reblog something- but I'd see just how much I've missed or the overwhelming amount of posts I'd need to go through and I'd feel so swamped with exhaustion and most importantly guilt, for not clearing the air up sooner to reassure you guys that I'm, y'know, alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And I'd procrastinate cause typing it all out is hard and I'd give up halfway every time and it's just not fair to you all!

I thought I was handling it well when I started going out and socializing more, instead of staying cooped up at home on my computer all day. and in the first draft of this post I made months ago I was gonna detail some of the fun plans I had, for my life and for this blog :D but relaxing my strict study schedule and letting go a bit of my tight routine, thinking it was better than wringing myself dry to keep it up, backfired horribly, to say the least.

I know right?? so silly to be hung up on stupid shit like studies of all things! but this is a very important thing for me considering my career plans and the competitivity encouraged by everyone I'm surrounded by, the pressure of keeping up adding to my already stressful days. I had to fix myself up first and I couldn't handle the strain nor interact with people and thinking of jobs and exams sapped my energy so much it's frankly embarrassing. writing this feels so cheesy too and it frustrates me to know I could've come back a month earlier if it weren't for that, but I also know putting all of this into words then would just sound like incoherent venting (not that this is very different tbf) and I wasn't in the right headspace to address my absence, or anything really- I didn't want everyone to see me return when I couldn't muster up a genuinely positive message, let alone talk to anyone with a shadow of my usual cheer

I feel like a complete mess and It drives me up the wall how depressed I've gotten. I debated deleting this blog so many times 'cause the fear of disappointing my audience and my friends, for lack of a more fitting sentiment, made me feel even shittier. I'm constantly thinking if this wall of text is worth posting, or if it's better not to burden you all with all my sappy troubles as if it's the end of the world. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not trying to dramatize this situation, but I don't think I'm up to pretending I'm all sunshine and enthusiasm you're all accustomed to.

So sorry for worrying you all! I'll try to catch up, deliver some missed birthday gifts, and answer some asks while I'm at it! Again, I can't state how much I appreciate your support throughout the years. It's frankly a miracle I kept any of you around with how much I keep popping and leaving at random with no warning. I definitely can't promise for my stay to be without a hitch, and if you don't mind an inconsistent schedule you're free to stay of course, but I'm afraid I can't sustain the pace I had when I first started this blog. I'll keep posting art, but lower my activity in the fandom sphere to reduce the strain on my mental health. so fewer rants and walls of text, more art, and less stress overall. Love you all and thanks for waiting for this long <3

[kuppikahvia]

also the buildup to hobie brown's introduction scene was really something else like the way they constantly hyped him up at every turn and still managed to surpass the expectations with that amazing introduction scene like yeah they really weren't lying, this guy actually is cool as hell

[sigmasoyboy]

Hellooo, i saw someone ask the numbers 23 and 25 for the serial killer trio and i really liked the answer. So i wanted to ask the same numbers for the vicetober boys if its okay 😄

Thank you in advance and have a great time 🩷

this one will have to go under the cut due to lenght (・・; we have many boys to talk about

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

For both Cain and Abel it's a bit complicated to tell. Cain does not trust other living beings anymore and as a child the line between affection and romance were blurred so it's hard to tell which they prefer. Having someone on their side and then some sort of sibling was nice but separation and betrayal hurt deeply so there are no more quick ways to his heart.

Abel only cares about consuming. Previously, I guess you could say that the bond they had with Cain was their preference, though now it matters less than their desire for their flesh. Similarily, there are no way to his heart.

Eli… Only cares about receiving either from Viorel anyway, and their friendship has been ambiguous from the beginning. The quickest way to his heart was apparently just trying to befriend him after a lifetime of neglect, it got him attached to that boy like superglue.

Viorel thinks he is satisfied by friendship alone but he does craves romantic affection, he just think he is not good enough to "trap" someone in an exclusive relationship with him. The quickest way to his heart is giving him self-confidence and blowjobs-- though he is quick to retract back into his shell after his self-esteem issues overshadow the butterflies.

Ismaele pretends he doesn't much care for either. Sex is just a distraction from the horrors, camaradery is just something to indulge in like alcohol or anything else, no one can understand him anymore anyway™️. Deep down he does need affection, no real preference on the type. Quickest way to his heart is to not let him know you're trying to slither your way there lol

Ange has no preference either, he likes caring for people, romantic feelings or not. Previously, he did try to reach out through sex with not much luck though. Quickest way to his heart is having losing dog energy, he has a weakness for the strays no one want.

Doe does not really conceptualize affection as different concepts. There's only what Ange gave him and what he gives back to others in return. He likes being cared for and feeling safe and that's about it. Quickest way to his heart is hugs and food.

Valya used to value friendship above all, he wasn't interested in romance, though it was made complicated by his paranoid tendencies. The quickest way to his heart was unrelenting loyalty and the ability to forgive him, no matter what.

Domen does not actually care about either, they're just tools for him to manipulate others. From the outside though, he probably seem to prefer romance since he's often going on dates and metting people. Quickest way to his heart is flattery, but you'll never be able to truly reach it.

Jesse naturally cares about romance, the idea of being someone's number one obsesses him because it's so out of reach, at this point any affection makes feelings blossom hard and fast which tend to freak people out. Any positive attention leads to his heart, though less so after what happened with Domen made him jaded.

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

Sex does nothing for Cain, he has no libido or interest in it. Abel on the other hand does derive some sick psychosexual pleasure from both hunting and playing with his food (see: the inherent erotism of cannibalism) despite being sexless.

Eli… Doesn't have a bed. He sleeps on his couch, which is almost the only piece of furniture he owns. That's weird in itself. As far as kink goes, seeing Viorel wear his clothes, even casually, really does something to him, and he more than once smelled clothes Viorel left at his place when jacking off. He just has a huge thing for Viorel lol

Viorel's weird bedroom habit is that he doesn't bother with his wheelchair when going to the toilet in the middle of the night, so you can get jumpscared by his grudge-look-alike bedhead crawling in the hallway in the dark since he can't reach the lightswitch from there. Nothing too unusual kink wise, he's got some pretty classic fantaisies like having sex in a semi-public place or doing it half-clothed.

Ismaele just pretty consistently wakes up drenched in sweat throughout the night. Usually he goes to check on Valya then has a smoke in front of an open window before going back to bed and trying to sleep again. As for kinks, he likes being ordered around, especially if he gets praise for doing exactly as he's told.

Ange used to hug himself and pet his own hair to lull himself to sleep. Now he's much more fond of hugging someone else and petting their hair, feeling the slow breathing of someone against him gets him really sleepy. He's got a crossdressing kink (mostly him wearing dresses and such, but he does also enjoys dressing up his partner from time to time); for him it's more about sensations than visuals, even the discomfort of restrictive clothes or the rough sensation of lace can be very erotic to him, though he does also like being called cute and such. Otherwise, he enjoys teasing and light pain (both receiving and giving).

Most of Doe's habits are odd. In bed, it's probably hugging whoever is sleeping with him no matter who it is. He's a real octopus, wrapping his long limbs around the other. As far as it is known, he has no kink in particular.

Valya's in a vegetative state, the weirdest thing about his bedroom habits is just the fact he still has wake/sleep cycles but they aren't really regular so he sometimes falls asleep while Ismaele is bathing him or washing his teeth. Before he was in this state, he used to talk in his sleep a lot and Ismaele would have little conversations with him when he couldn't sleep. He did feel some sexual gratification from dominating others back then but it would be a bit exaggerated to call it a kink.

Domen weirdest bedroom habit was probably that he could not stand hearing Jesse breathing next to him at night so most of the time he would kick him out of his room. If he did grace him with sleeping together in the same bed he would wear ear plugs, and cuddles were only before sleep, no touching during. Kink wise, he was big into somno, but that's mostly because it was the closest to his actual necrophilia kink he could get with a living partner. Next to it being a sadist kinda pales.

When he still had many Jesse had to rearrange the plushies who had fallen/moved on his bed before he could sleep. He would also choose a big one to cuddle during the night since most times Domen refused to sleep with him. He always felt more vulnerable to dark thoughts at night, now it can get to the point where he feels so utterly shitty he'll go to the bathroom to self-harm as the only way to kill the noise. As for kinks, he used to be into the idea of puppy play but Domen kind of killed that for him by kicking and caging him as part of it and making him understand very well how cringe it was and how lucky he was to be indulged… He also has a thing for wearing stocking and panties, but he dislikes being treated like a girl.

[the-television-host]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Vox *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Uh... hello! My name is Vox! I'm a television host and I live with my fiance Valentino and three kids: MJ, Vincent and Venus. ...what do you mean, I'm meant to be a television? I'm a TV host, not a TV itself... So I have no idea what you're talking about. But feel free to ask me questions and stuff anyway!

// hihihihi!!!! Mod Jelly blog!!!! this is a human au of my blog @vox-tv-demon. if you would like to contact me, please talk to me at @mod-jelly-shenanigans! I use it/they!!! //

Information about Vox:

He uses he/it/they/glitch

Oblivious dumbass. PhD in dumbassery.

He's in his 20-30s, I think.

Does NOT like dark spaces

Oh and he hates fire. So fucking much. Try lighting a candle.

SO FUCKIN' CANON-DIVERGENT

Rules:

This is a safe space for the LGBTQIA+ community!

If you insult the mod/send death threats to the mod. they will tag all of their friends. You heard me, all of them. They will make your life a misery.

No NSFW asks. NSFW jokes are fine.

No pedophila, racism, sexism... ya get the gist. general bigotry, DNI.

If you don't like the blog, I take constructive critisism! Go ahead, tell me what I could do better! Just please don't be horrible or rude about it. If I feel uncomfortable with what you're doing or saying, I will give you a warning first time, but if it happens enough I will block you. If it's a death threat (whether to me or not), then that's an immediate block.

I don't mind people flirting with Vox, but technically, I'm a single-ship blog, and that's with one particular Valentino.

However, I am a multi-universe blog! Go wild! Send asks from BATIM, or TADC, or Undertale and Deltarune! Go absolutely crazy! Not to mention I will interact with characters from different universes within the Hazbin/Hellaverse roleplayers, as well.

Anyway! have a good day! Send asks, join in with roleplay threads I'm doing... I'm fine with that, and I find it really fun! Feel free to start an interaction any time! I'm usually free if I'm not at school or sleeping.

Signing off,

~ Mod Jelly

[coridallasmultipass]

well one of family never ends' author's other fics is the epilogue of course ;) but ipgd also wrote people don't do that (alphacest), homestuck watches boku no pico, and like the first uucest fic

YAASS OMG.

ANON.

Thank you.

Deeply and truly thank you. Saved me a real pain. It was People Don't Do That. Gonna reread it ASAP. I don't remember if I read the uucest one, but I powered thru a lot of fics while I was sick in Jan, and I don't remember like 90% of those two weeks. (Like, as I'm going thru the tag I'm reading now, I'll see something unclicked and go to read it, finish the fic like OMG SO GOOD, and then scroll a little more and I see my name at the top of the kudos list and it's like, wait, when tf did I read this? It was when I was sick.)

Ughhhh. I ADORE the dynamic of whichever younger Strider being the instigator, and it fits Alphacest so deliciously. (I don't even know what to say here without being so fucking overtly horny for Alpha Dave in general but that's not new lmao.)

But seriously, the scene on the roof where Dirk took Dave's underwear, like. I died. There's no other way to put it. It fucking killed me. I'm going to remember that forever, it was so good.

[birrdify]

good morning to you tumblr (morning voice(voice of someone thats been offline for a few daysOH GOLLY GOSH ITS CHARLES' BIRTHDAYFUCKFUCK STUMBLES OVER AHAHG TRIPS OVER A LANDMINE AAAHHGHGG RUNS OVER TO DRAWING PROGRAM FFUCKKL

[caffeinatedopossum]

Apologies

This is a vent/poem I wrote about my mom. I've been thinking I wanted to tell someone these thoughts for a while now but always felt too scared to. I hope you like it. Trigger warning for abuse and implications of death/violence.

I still remember the first time in my life that I didn't accept an apology.

I was 17 and somehow knew nothing and everything about life at the same time.

You said you were sorry, expecting my ever reliable reassurance. Well, not this time.

All I said was "okay".

You needed to know I heard you. You needed to know I didn't believe you. You needed to know everything I tried to but couldn't say with that one word.

You didn't beg for forgiveness, you just kept driving. And your silence said everything because there was nothing there

And that's exactly how you feel

Everything in angry silence.

I couldn't actually tell if you were mad at me or not but I didn't care. I didn't want to care anymore.

Why do I still care about you?

Why do I still want to forgive you?

I thought I knew everything about you at 17. I thought it made sense finally.

Now I look back at my obliviousness with immense fear but also gratitude.

If I'd known then what you did to him, hardly a father but still the husband you chose

You refused to do the logical thing and get a divorce for 13 years

Till death do you part, right?

If I'd known that when you said you would "get rid of me", you weren't really talking about foster care,

I think I would've done the job for you myself.

God knows I tried.

You said you wished I was never born.

Me too.

Me too.

At least he was truly sorry before he died.

[professional-writher]

I'm getting Weird and Strange about my interests again. Nobody touch me.

[the-wolfs-laughter]

When your fiancée is going through your tumblr posts after a session and you ✨panick✨

Did they know about looking through tags?

How far did they go?

What posts gave them new ideas?

At least the likes are safe this time

[sinsofnivan]

More rough sex with Krauser pls👀 , he just wants to train and discipline the reader who is a rebellious rookie :(( hhh I luv ur writing

chokeholds are illegal! — JACK KRAUSER x YOU.

SUMMARY: “where were you? i thought i had made it clear that i wanted specialists with an H2H* evaluation score below 65 to come spar at 1600. it’s 1830, L/N.”  "huh?" your brows narrow. "my teammates said the passing score was 60, and i got a 64." your hands rest on your hips, your glare practically piercing holes through his eyes. "you don't report to them, do you? are they the ones who give you orders, rookie? huh? this is negligence and insubordination on your part." you rolled your eyes, and krauser scoffed. "stop fucking rolling your eyes. get in the ring." krauser raised the ropes as he slid into the training ring, and you were staring at him in disbelief.  "you're due for a sparring session. but since your teammates, the people you're supposed to spar with, already left, you're paired with me.

PAIRING: JACK KRAUSER/you.

TAGS: blah blah blah brat tamer krauser place name backstory stuff, female reader, sparring, pronebone, mean sex, degradation, nasty sex, sort of masochist reader, sort of sadist krauser, edging, save me brat tamer krauser save me, krauser has a big dick, size difference, SLIGHT knifeplay, choking, SIR KINK, power gap/imbalance, dubious consent, cervix fucking, mind break, inappropriate workplace relationships, humiliation, overstimulation, instant loss?, slight dacryphilia, GUYS DON'T SLEEP WITH YOUR SUPERIORS, sort of dubcon because of said power imbalance but reader likes being put in her place anyways

WORD COUNT: 3908

A/N: i love krauser sm. RAHH. the gif divider is not mine! credits to kdanie!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"c'mon, L/N. already panting? i'm not even sweating yet." 

you scowled, clenching your fists. it has been a long 10 minutes of taking blows and returning jabs and hooks, and your shoulders are aching from how he practically slammed you on to the ground earlier. sure, it was a little cushioned, but god, he was fighting you like he hated your guts. you wouldn't be able to physically overpower this 6"3 hunk of muscle, because judging from the size of his biceps alone, he benched twice your body weight for fucking breakfast. 

so relying on your speed it was. you saw many opportunities to strike after dodging his kicks and punches: an elbow to his ribs, a knee to his face, and even sweeping him off of his feet. but that was 5 minutes ago, and this fucker's absolutely terrifying—because he was beginning to get used to it. and he was right. there was no droplet of sweat beading on his temples. 

"you're fast, L/N." taunted the major, and you wanted nothing more than to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. "but not invincible," the sight of him lunging at you was terrifying, and you dodged—tried to dodge—but he cornered you in whichever direction you chose to step in. "going somewhere?" krauser grinned, just before he throws a right hook. you barely avoided it, the rush of air from his fist brushing past your cheek. you grunt in exertion, quickly punishing him by a hook to his jaw. it hits squarely, making his head snap to the side. but krauser remained unphased. 

krauser's hand quickly wrapped around your wrist, his vice bruising and unforgiving. he pulls you forward with a vicious yank, his knee driving into your stomach—once, twice—each strike forcing a groan from your lips as the air was driven out of you. you jabbed your fingers into his sides, his ribs, god, anywhere just to hurt him. but fuck, this man was made of steel. you might as well be punching concrete. "are you tapping out?" he asks arrogantly, and you groaned, trying to break free from his hold. "i'm not," you groaned.

the mocking laugh from him makes you mad. so, so fucking mad. 

he pushes him off of you, watching you stumble and attempting to catch your breath as you used the ropes for support. krauser's footsteps from behind you are menacing, and you're just convinced that he's gonna fucking kill you for all the trouble you've caused him. but, fuck, you'd rather die than tap out. right before you could stabilize yourself, a hand reaches out to grab your shoulder, and into his hold.

specifically, your head, into a chokehold;

his bicep crushing your throat as he pinned you against his chest. it was tight enough to limit your breathing, but not enough to suffocate you. he wanted you to tap out, to actually surrender to him—and you knew it was what you were supposed to do, as you could easily feel how lightheaded you were getting. but you didn't want to. your pride wouldn't let you. "i'm waiting, Y/N," krauser cackled, and your response was a pained grunt.

you tried to shove an elbow into his stomach, to try and get him off of you, but it was futile. krauser growled, clearly pissed that you can't accept your defeat, and you won't fucking stay still. "you think you're faster than me? stronger?" he whispered in your ear, breath fanning over the shell. "little miss untouchable. dodging orders, playing your little fucking games. that ends now." you grit your teeth, trying to think of something to say. 

"are you gonna follow everything i say from now on, rookie?" oh, the things krauser would give just to see that defeated look on your face. it takes you a while, but you begrudgingly stammer out a weak—"yes,"—much to krauser's glee. 

"yes, what?"

"yes, s, sir,"

your vision's getting cloudy, and your nails drag on his forearms for desperation; leaving red, angry lines on his pale skin as you scratched him."chokehold's illegal." you croaked. your protest makes krauser laugh, tightening his grip. "is it, rookie? just when i thought you were being a good girl." he could feel his cock aching in those damn tight pants. 

"i don't fucking care." krauser released you, easily using his strength to make you face him. you were bracing yourself for another punch, but the warmth of his big hands greet your cheeks instead; pulling you to him and letting his lips crash harshly on yours. you don't know what came over you. you hated your stupid fucking superior right now, but fuck—your lips reciprocated that forbidden liplock. 

your arms wrapped around him weakly, and krauser began to feel your body, squeezing your asscheeks through your jogging pants. you bit on his lower lip, hard, and krauser groaned, the taste of copper beginning to register on his taste buds. still bratty, still fucking mischievous, like always. 

the kiss breaks as krauser pushes you off of him, hungrily eyeing your body. "strip." he'd scowl, and so did you. "i'm not going to do that." you heaved, and krauser claimed your lips again. a little angrier this time, whilst his hand bundled up your shirt in fist, and then—

rip!

you gasped, and krauser held your neck with another hand, threatening to squeeze. his kisses trailed from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, then lingered just beneath your ear. "you're so," he growled, biting you hard, making you groan and hold on to his broad shoulders. "so fucking bratty. you drive me insane. i fucking hate you." he could feel your laughter buzz against his lips as his tongue dragged all over the inch of your sweaty skin. your scent, your taste, stirred something feral in him.

"yeah? doesn't look like you fucking hate me," you dipped a hand between your bodise, palming against his bulge. did he have a hard on while he sparred with you? y'can't remember. "shut up. just shut the fuck up," he was expecting to feel up your tits—but was only met with the foam of your sports bra, and krauser disappointedly clicked his tongue. 

"keep still." he glared at you, who was just observing everything he did. reaching behind him, you hear the familiar hiss of his knife being unsheathed from his holster. your breath hitches in your throat, and of course, krauser noticed. he grinned, bringing the sharp, cold end to your cheek. "yeah, you're gonna stay still." he cooed, gently tracing your lips with the dagger. this was the first time he's seen you follow your orders. 

"don't wanna be cut now, do you?" 

he retired the knife from your face, but you're yet to be at ease because he brought the cold blade down to your chest. "don't. fucking. move." he raised your sports bra up, beginning to cut through the fabric. maybe he didn't hate you as much as you thought, because he was really trying to not cut you. you can't say the same for your sports bra, however, as he easily cut the straps that prevented him from yanking that stupid fucking bra off of you. "here's what's going to happen, slut." your nipples rouse under his knife. "starting from now, you're gonna address me as sir." for once, you're rendered speechless. actually cautious about getting on his bad side now, because if he added even the slightest bit of pressure, you knew the blade would break the skin beneath it. "and you're going to be good. you wanna know why?" 

the tip feels crookedly ticklish as he dragged it up to your collarbone, and ultimately your chin; forcing your pretty eyes up on his face. "because i'm so fucking done with your antics. you have exhausted every bit of my patience." and just to make sure that you knew he wasn't playing, he gently pressed the sharp edge to draw the littlest of blood, letting it stain his knife. "are we clear?" you frantically nod. "yes—yes sir," krauser hummed in contentment. 

"atta girl. so strip."

the humiliation seeps through your cheeks and body, tummy twisting in taboo anticipation. i shouldn't be doing this. you thought as you kicked your boots off, tugged those pants down. i shouldn't be doing this. krauser thought as he brought the knife to your pantied cunt and began to gently glide it up and down. you couldn't look his way, too flustered—but you weren't suppressing the soft cries that left your mouth as his knife toyed with your clit. "dirty, dirty girl." krauser chuckled. "you actually like this, huh? i've killed people with this knife, slut. have some shame." the knife slid beneath the seams of your panties, impatiently tearing through the fabric. 

his knife has served its only purpose it seems; because, you hear him tossing it somewhere out of the ring. and in the next minute, he's —

⟢

"fuck!"

it's a big stretch. a biiiiig stretch. it hurt so, so good as krauser's cock cruelly shoved his cock in your pretty cunt; the lubricant being only his spit and your own slick. "tight—you're so fucking tight," he growled. your eyes roll back to the pits of your sockets as he began to pound you. his thrusts were mean and harsh, as if determined to break your pelvis. the cacophony of your sex—flesh slapping against flesh, the lascivious harmony of your voices, and the squelching of your soaking pussy—filled the room, loud and unabashed. krauser's bruising grip is on your waist, trying to ensure that every thrust had the tip poking your cervix.

"is this why you're such'a— hnggg, shit—! such a . . fucking brat?" he smacked your tits, making you yelp. "so you could get hatefucked by me? huh?" a devilish grin tugged on the corners of his lips, followed by an amused laugh. "all y'had to do was ask. c'mon, girl. ask me to fuck you harder." the pleasure has you reeling, has your cunt tightening from being used like a toy by your superior. you couldn’t utter a denial, you couldn’t even utter a single word—and it was just so unfair! 

as much as krauser loved your cries and how you melted under his mercy—it's not enough. he's greedy like that. "i said beg—!" krauser's demand is followed by a smack on your poor, used cunt. he took in every reaction you gave him, the whining from the sting, how you struggled to speak, the cries of his name, everything—he loved it. "p, please," you plead quietly. "please s, sir—need you to . . a-ahn! god—fuck!" he purposefully rams into you hard. it was so satisfying, finally breaking in his brat. you looked so pathetic, drooling, eyes watering as the pleasure made you tear up—and it was better than what krauser fantasized about. "need me to what?" his thumb traced your soft, kiss-bruised lips. "pleasepleaseeeplease, sir! need you t'fuck me deeper and h-harder—!" this is how he wanted you. 

obedient. respectful. fucked out.

he didn't even ask you to go deeper, but he figured he'll grant you your wishes, you were being so good for him, after all; your legs are manoeuvred by scarred dexterity to wrap around his waist, to have him closer, deeper. his thrusts begin again. it's rough, feral, but the sting's been long gone, replaced by overwhelming pleasure that only krauser could give you. 

oh, that fucking look on your face, god. brows scrunched up, mouth agape, rosy cheeks, lashes beaded with the tears that's yet to fall–-fuck, you're so "—fucking gorgeous," krauser babbled on, hips never relenting with his vicious pummeling. "big—," you whimpered in your stupefied haze, eyes widening. you could feel his tip kiss your perky cervix with the adjusted position. "yeaaaah, baby. that's— that's all me," krauser laughed, watching you place a shaky hand on where you felt him protruding through your skin. "gonna fucking—ruin you. 'til nothin' gets you off but your sir's cock, y'hear me?" nod, nod. "please, sir!" 

the title seems to have renewed his vigour, because fuck—the pleasure's so toe-curling, so mind-numbing; krauser's burying himself in your neck again, biting, kissing, sucking, branding you as his. he's barely acknowledging the cerise crescents you litter on his built back—does he even realize it? from how he's drooling, probably not.

he can't stop fucking your cunt, hips moving on their own animalistic fervour. he needs to cum, needs to get his little brat all stuffed full 'nd knocked up. the idea of colleagues catching him—and you, of course—didn't even cross his mind anymore. let them hear. let them know, that he was taming you, that you were completely wrapped around his finger. 

he grabbed your hips and practically used you as his personal fucktoy, raising you by your hips like you weighed nothing. your pussy twitched—yearning to cum, and he would have loved to see you fall apart, but—"don't you dare cum without my fucking permission," you scoffed at him, clearly irritated, and a particularly forceful thrust in you quickly corrects your indiscipline. "look at you, you fucking bratty bitch." he cackled cruelly. "givin' me attitude again? remember—," you winced when his fingers sink a little harder, and then– 

SLAP!

"this is—

your fucking

fault—!"

his frustration shows in each hard, mean thrust. it would have sent you to the edge, but he stops in time before it could blossom into something more, leaving you whining and quivering. unfortunately, his thrusts came to a brief halt, forcing you to feel all inches of his dick—every bump, every vein. when you were coming down from your faux high, his pounding resumed, catching you off guard. "cumming—," he growled, and your cunt just clenched around him as you whimpered. poor little thing. your name's what he wails, your face is what he envisioned as his eyes rolled back and intense pleasure washes over him.

it's torture to feel him fill you up, hunger temporarily satiated as he kept bucking his hips, spilling all of his thick, sticky semen into your pretty hole. "Y/N—!" he's so fucking deep—he's literally fucking splitting you open! you whimpered, losing strength in your legs and relying on nothing but his strength to keep your hips up. pulling away, he lets his cock slip from your cunt. he lowered his gaze, and—"fuck," 

your pussy was twitching and gaping, and his chest heaved, panting as he gasped for air. can't take his hungry eyes off of your cunt. fuck—it looked so pretty twitching and leaking his cum . . you were just about to get up, obviously unsatisfied and irate, but—

"on your fours."

"huh?"

"what, huh? i said on your fours."

"you're not done yet?"

"just get on your damn fours!"

you hated that you felt excited. excited that his cock was still twitching atop your cunt, excited that he wanted more of you. so you obliged, rolling over to your tummy the second he loosened his grip on you. you could barely keep your hips and knees up as they shook 'neath you. you could feel krauser's arrogance from the front. god, what a pri—!

smack! 

a startled yelp reverberates around the facility as his hand comes down on your asscheek. it's a mean slap, and you could feel just where his hand was as it stung like hell. 

smack! 

"think i shoulda jus' did this from the beginning," krauser chuckled, amused. very, very amused. "have 'ya sprawled on my lap and fucking spanking this—" smack! "—ass 'til it turned red," smack! then, you feel krauser's thumb on your clit, gathering up all your dripping, sticky arousal on his finger. "wet from being spanked? naughty," he wished you saw how he licked his fingers clean after—and he wished he could just bury his fucking tongue deep into you; but he'll save it for next time, when you're good. positioning himself behind you, you could easily discern the crown of his cock prodding against your pussy—using calloused digits to spread your pretty hole wide.

it's still a tight fit—but it's much, much easier to slide into you with his cum as lube. and he laughed, actually laughed when your knees gave out beneath you as his girth filled you up again. though, he didn't tell you to keep your hips up. instead, he keeps sheathing himself in you as you laid prone. don't worry, he understands. you were just dicked down two minutes ago, after all. 

you familiarly feel his arms wrap around your head, and fuck, krauser growled when he feels your cunt tighten up. "you think i'm done with you, slut? think 'm like those losers you sleep with?" his taunts are accompanied with the obscene plap! plap! plap! of your skins. you'd think for someone who just came, he would be slower, sloppier—but no. quite the opposite, actually.

his bicep was lathered in your drool as your face was squished between the muscle and his forearm. your breaths weren't cut off entirely, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you got enough air lungful after lungful. "guess what? i'm not. hear me? y'even conscious?" he brought his thrusts down with fierce, punishing slams, and you laid there helplessly, unable to push him off of you, unable to escape his brutal thrusts. "y, yes sir!" 

"goooood fucking slut. i'm gonna ruin you. gonna make sure your pussy's the shape of me," all his possessive rambling is making you whimper, making your pussy twitch around him. his cock throbbed with overstimulation—it hurt, hurt so much. but you made him feel better. made the pain so fucking worth it. "sir k , krauserr—!" you sobbed, holding on to his forearms for dear life. felt like he was gonna fuck the consciousness outta you. 

krauser, who was reserved, strict, disciplined—this was at his rawest. logic forgotten while he feels himself drool from this addicting post-orgasm torture. his mind only seems to properly work when he feels that cunt spasming. "don't cum. fucking keep it in!" he demanded cruelly. how couldn't you—when his cock hit your most sensitive spot again and again. "n , noooo—please . . please, want to cum," you pleaded him. "please—i need to, need to cum—♡!" 

though, he wasn't having it. he can't have you satisfied yet. he was so mean! 

with frantic, sporadic thrusts, he uncontrollably spilled his cum into you again. his whimpers filled the room, continuing to drag his orgasm with brutal slams. it completely leaked from your pussy—he still came lots even after cumming prior. you whined when he slumped over you, his tip pressing against your cervix snugly as he gasped for his breath. he may have freed you from his crushing hold, but fuck—his body resting on yours had the same effect.

and you still haven't cum, still irate and needy amidst your stupefied state. 

"get off—," you whined, trying to wriggle beneath him; you could feel his cock softening up but it was still just as girthy—you curse him and his fat cock. it takes a minute or two for him to get off you, pulling out of your creampied cunt. krauser grinned as you turned over to your back, sweaty 'nd tired from the pounding you just took. you sat up, grunting. "'m g'nna head back," you mumbled with a pout, and krauser stretches an arm out to cradle your cheek. "we're not done yet, baby—," "stop touching me you—!" a thumb ran over your eyes, already wiping off the tears that wanted to fall. "shh, shh. i know, baby," he kissed your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your eyes—before coaxing you on your back again. 

he has you lay on his arm while he rests on his side, spreading your legs again with one hand. "you must be sooo frustrated," he grinned, running his middle and ring finger over your slit. "yes, please," you were jus' so frustrated, so needy—you did everything he asked and he was still mean. . . "gonna cry?" he cooed, before sliding two thick fingers into your dripping cunt.

the stretch isn't the same as his cock, but you don't care. y'just needed him. "beg me again, sweetheart. i promise it'll be the last." he curved his fingers up slow, so agonizingly slow. "please, sir. wanna cum. need to cum, pleaseplease—," "yeah? i got you, baby. you've been so good for me," dear god, does this man ever get tired—? he began to pump his fingers in your pretty cunt, his cum spilling everywhere whenever it would slide out. his thrusts are similar to the pace of his pounding—and your cunt twitched thinkin' about how he fucked you. 

"you're such a stubborn brat, no? don't worry, i'll break those bad habits outta yer head," he leans down to kiss you, capture that sarcastic mouth and muffle all your whines as he picked up his pace. you held on to his wrist, to him—to fucking wherever—kissing him back sloppily as he had you writhing from just his fingers. when you tried to pull away, he would just chase your lips back, it made it so harder to breathe, but you had to kiss him back. you have to kiss your sir back. 

he's kind, but unkind at the same time, not giving your pussy a break, but letting the coil in your stomach tighten. you could feel it. so so close! krauser lets you breathe, a string of spit dripping from your lips. not ounce did his fingers falter—those wet noises, fuck, you're so wet. "you're such'a good girl," he hummed, eyes hypnotized with your creaming pussy.

your eyes widen when he finally doesn't stop fingering you—breath becoming faster and more ragged as your orgasm neared. he flickered his gaze back to you, entertained with your reactions. it was so worth it, saving the best for last. "yeah? uh-huh. you're so pretty. my pretty brat. sir's sorry for making you cry." "fuckfuckfuckfuck—'m cumming. sir, 'm cumming—♡!" your legs shook, and the moment the pads of his fingers graze that spongy nub in your pretty cunt, you're cumming undone. 

you would have screamed if it wasn't for the hand covering your mouth. you whimpered against his palm. "shhh, shhh. baby, i know. i know. it's too much, right?" but his fingers didn't stop, continuing to shove it knuckles-fucking-deep inside you.  "shh, shh. i know. but you asked for this. you wanted to cum, right? right?" krauser chuckled heartlessly, keeping this onslaught on your sensitive cunt. you were twitching so much around his fingers—and he knew you would be his next addiction for . . . god knows how long.

he abruptly pulled his fingers out from you, easing out another squirting orgasm from your poor cunt; using the same fingers, he gently rubbed your puffy clit. you squirmed, hips bucking and legs kicking. your eyes pricked tears, feeling too good, too sensitive. from covering your mouth, he moves to hold your jaw gently—wanting to hear your pretty, broken sobs. 

he feels the familiar tap on his arm. one, two. "aw, tapping out? you're not allowed to tap out." your eyes rolled to the back of your head, wailing when he adds a little more pressure on to rubbing your clit. "sir—sir please—, please. i'll be good, i'll be good—♡, please," you scratched on to his arms, biceps—anywhere you could get your claws on. "please— need a break," 

you? a break? when you're bucking your hips like that?

"hmm . . i don't think so."

end.

A/N: sorry if it's a bit sloppy, i wanted to compensate for taking too long to upload. i'm not very well-informed with military themes so i just kinda word vomited HAHA. but thank you soooo much for reading!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU! H2H* means hand to hand. according to google anyways. 

[hbdttg]

Part 1 / tag list below the cut

“I’m quitting,” Eddie declares, “I’m out. Call me a tree, ‘cause I’m leaving. Call me a banana, ‘cause I’m splitting. T-t-t-t-that’s all, folks!” he adds, doing his best impression of Porky Pig’s signature stammering.

Chrissy’s laser focus doesn’t stray from her monitor, even when Eddie bodily throws himself into the chair across her desk with a long, strangled groan. Wordlessly, she raises her left index finger at him in a silencing gesture. With her brows furrowed in concentration, she drags her mouse around on its pad and double-clicks something on her screen before nodding decisively to herself. After another few clicks, she finally lowers her finger, raises her eyes, and meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Would you mind grabbing what I just printed? Please?” she asks, smiling at him imploringly.

Chrissy could ask Eddie to bleach his hair and shave off an eyebrow and he’d do it. She’s actually who he has to thank for landing such a cushy job with HHH—a referral from a trusted associate like her goes a long way in a place like this.

And despite Eddie’s many complaints about becoming a corporate sellout, he can’t deny that it certainly has its perks. The office is only a ten-minute commute from his apartment, the compensation agreement he signed amounted to more money than his last two jobs combined, his benefits package is frankly ridiculous, and he gets to work with one of his best friends in the world. Overall, not a bad gig.

Even so, he makes a show of sighing, loud and longsuffering, before doing as Chrissy asks, leaving her office to grab her job off the printer. Eddie knows she works in HR and some of her stuff can get pretty confidential, so he doesn’t even try to skim the contents of the page as he walks it back over to her.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the paper at Chrissy facedown.

“Thanks!” she says. She makes no moves to take it from him. “That’s for you, actually.”

Curious, Eddie takes the paper back and flips it over. In the center of the page is a graphic of safety sign one might find in a cartoon factory, though Chrissy had edited the original from “[___] Days Since Last Accident” to “[___] Days Since Eddie Last Threatened to Quit His Job”. There’s a big red zero in the counter box.

Eddie tries to glower down at Chrissy, but it’s sort of hard to maintain when she bursts into laughter. It’s been years, but the sound of Chrissy laughing like this, all bright and breathless and unrestrained, never fails to transport him back to his (third) senior year of high school, when they first became friends over a failed drug deal.

“Don’t be cute,” Eddie says with a laughable lack of authority, dropping heavily back down into the chair.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Chrissy counters, brow raised archly.

Eddie rolls his eyes, crumpling the page into a ball and lobbing it in between them.

Chrissy lets the ball land harmlessly on her desk before sweeping it into the trashcan by her feet.  “Just so you know, I’ve had that saved on my desktop since Monday—and I haven’t had to edit the days count a single time.”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s hard to defend himself when this current visit marks the fifth day in a row he’s floundered into her office, vainly announcing his resignation. “Yeah, well,” he says weakly, “printing it seems like a gross misuse of company resources.”

“What are you going to do, report me?” Chrissy says with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Let me guess: you’re the one who receives those reports?” Eddie says dryly.

“Yep!” she says cheerfully. “Now, go on and tell me about your latest trainwreck of an interaction with Steve Harrington.”

“Christ, Chris!” Eddie hisses, leaping to his feet and immediately spinning around to check if anyone was around to hear her damning words. The coast is clear, luckily, but he still scrambles to shut her office door before falling back into his chair. “You can’t just go around saying his name all willy-nilly.”

“He’s not gonna suddenly appear if you say his name three times, Eddie. See, watch. Steve. Steve. St—”

“Don’t risk it!” Eddie squawks loudly, cutting her off.

“You’re an absolute mess,” she says through a laugh, shaking her head at him.

And well, Chrissy’s not wrong.

Eddie’s been a mess since Monday morning, when he unknowingly produced, directed, and starred in The Roast of Steve Harrington. He blames his shitty memory for forgetting what floor his new office was on—if he’d known he was sharing the elevator with someone he could have potentially worked with (let alone someone whose surname made up a third of the company name), he wouldn’t have opened his big, fat mouth in the first place.

When he finally gathered the courage to make it back down to the fifty-second floor and show his face at the HHH office, he kicked off his onboarding with Chrissy with a strangled, “I know it’s my first day and I technically just started ten minutes ago, but I quit. Thank you for the opportunity and good-bye forever.”

Chrissy, the traitor, spent a full five minutes laughing in his face over his shamefully recounted story before patting him twice on the head and informing him he wasn’t allowed to quit for at least six months. The overly saccharine tone of her voice alone told Eddie there was no room for argument there.

Still, that didn’t stop him from following her into her office after the all-hands meeting on Tuesday, all the while whining in her ear, “I can’t thrive in these conditions, Chrissy. Please, I beg of you—accept my sincere and humble resignation from this cursed hellscape.”

‘These conditions’ consisted of any rooms and/or conversations that contained Steve Harrington. Eddie hadn’t been expecting to see the guy doting over the catering when he walked into the conference room that afternoon, and he certainly wasn’t expecting his supervisor and trainer, Murray, to lead him over to Steve to introduce the two of them (though that was likely just an excuse to head straight for the sandwiches that were laid out for the meeting).

While Eddie choked on his own tongue trying to spit out some generic, inoffensive greeting, Steve merely watched him with an amused smirk before thrusting his hand out and offering a perfectly friendly “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie, I’m Steve”, as if Eddie didn’t have Steve’s name and face (and stupidly fit body—who the fuck looks that good in a pair of khakis?!) burnt into his memory from the day prior.

Afterward, Murray, who most assuredly did not have a filter of any kind, bluntly commented on Eddie’s awkwardness, then spent the next five minutes trying to determine if it was normal, strangers-meeting-for-the-first time awkwardness, or something more sensational. Eddie stubbornly kept his mouth shut until the meeting started.

Wednesday followed a similar pattern, with Eddie flouncing into Chrissy’s office with a dramatic “I choose to break my blood oath. At this point I’d welcome the sweet release of death if it meant I didn’t have to work here anymore.”

Chrissy just corrected him, patiently explaining that he was employed at-will, rather than by blood oath, and that if he left before his sixth month, she’d personally skin him alive. Eddie had to pause and weigh the pros and cons of being skinless. Surely it couldn’t be worse than his latest exchange with Steve—via email this time, mercifully.

He’d just learned how to field helpdesk tickets and received one from Steve Harrington himself. It was a simple enough software request ticket, so he assigned it to himself and replied with next steps, asking Steve for a code so he could remote into his computer and install the program.

Steve replied back, asking where he was supposed to find the code. It was an innocuous enough question, but then Eddie noticed something a little off about his email signature: his last name was bolded.

Eddie ignored it, assuming it was a stylistic choice—nothing to read into, surely—but then Steve sent another email shortly after to let him know to disregard his last email; he’d found the right app and was just waiting for it to generate a code. This time, Harrington was bolded and at least two sizes bigger than his first name.

Then, in Steve’s third email, sent not a minute later with the requested code, Harrington was bolded, two sizes bigger than his first name, and highlighted yellow—a tactic Chrissy found so hilarious that she had to shoo Eddie out of her office with tears in her eyes so that she could compose herself and actually get some work done.

Thursday was a blessed reprieve from Steve’s unique brand of psychological warfare, but Eddie still somehow managed to royally humiliate himself in front of him. After he slunk into her office and silently pushed a scribbled-on napkin across her desk—

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as Systems Analyst II at HHH, effective immediately. Effective yesterday. In fact, I’ll pay you back the entirety of my wages earned if we just forget I ever worked here.

—Chrissy tutted at him sympathetically before taking the napkin and reaching over to dab it at the large wet stain on his shirt.

He’d been walking back to his desk from the breakroom when he rounded a corner and bumped into Steve in the hallway. Literally bumped into, bodily contact and surprised yelps and everything. And it probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal, really, if not for the fact that he had a newly refilled mug of coffee in his hand.

“Eddie, oh my god, are you okay?”

No, Eddie wasn’t okay, because he just splashed himself with hot fucking coffee and now Steve Harrington was worriedly fussing over him and tentatively trying to mop up the liquid with his own fucking hands for some reason, and he was embarrassed (and a little turned on?) and he had to get the fuck out of there now.

“I’m okay, sorry, it’s fine—” he managed to squeak before whirling around and scurrying to the bathroom.

So yes, Eddie’s been an absolute mess the past few days, and today is no different.

…Actually, scratch that. Today is different. Today is worse.

“Okay, now spill,” Chrissy says. “What happened?”

With another drawn-out, pitiful groan, Eddie sinks down in his seat and lets his neck hang off the backrest, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Talk to me, Eds,” Chrissy says, concern starting to bleed into her voice. “If he’s actually bullying you, you can file a complaint. I have a form here somewhere.”

Eddie hears her open one of her desk drawers and reluctantly sits up. “He’s not bullying me, Mom,” he says with a huff. “We actually…we talked.”

“You talked?” Chrissy asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, about the elevator. Buried the hatchet and everything. I said sorry, we laughed about it, it’s over and done with.” Eddie’s gaze darts around Chrissy’s desk, searching for something to distract him from the warm and fuzzy feeling growing in his stomach at the memory of their conversation.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!” Chrissy says cheerfully. “But wait, if you two are good now…”

Eddie doesn’t want her to ask what she’s about to ask, because the answer might be more embarrassing than all of his other Steve stories combined.

“Why are you still going on about quitting?”

Eddie drops his face into his hands, feeling totally and utterly pathetic. “Um, because I think I’m sort of, kind of, just a little bit…in love with him?”

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

tbh I didn’t think I’d be writing a second part, but if strangers on the internet validate me enough, I guess I’ll do anything~

Y’ALL. I’m blown away by the response to part one of this silly lil au. I didn’t reply to any of the lovely comments or tags, but please know if you engaged in any way (or even if you just read the fic and snorted a little through your nose at a bit you found funny) I love you with my entire heart and you’ve made my entire life.

[Now for the tag list, which I’ve never done before. Sorry if you didn’t actually want to be on here! Or, sorry if you’re stumbling upon this post on your own after asking to be tagged and I missed you oops.]

@messrs-weasley @n0-1-important @bornonthesavage @thing-a-ling @eddiemunsonswife @changenamelater @ispyblu @thesuninyaface

@invisibleflame812 @4nemo1egend @ikolanatari @mavernanche @songbird-garden @trashpocket @original-cypher @over7joyed 

@commonxsenss @justdyingontheinside @mojowitchcraft @maya-custodios-dionach @justmiiriam @imzadidragonfly @lillemilly @gay-stranger-things @child-of-cthulhu @bleedingoptimism @lemanzanabizarra @melaniehere91

@iswearitsjustme @silver-snaffles @csinnamon-fox @paint-music-with-me @epicsteddieficrecs @sweetcreaturetm @hxneyfarms @bossyknow-it-all @vecnuthy @stevethehairington @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @nburkhardt

@gayngerthings @patchworkgargoyle @violetsteve @henderdads @2btheanswertothequestion

[upmost-rylan]

//new year art, featuring my sona arin! And many characters I hyperfixated on this year! (Tags #newyear #art #drawing #fandom #cringecultureisdead ) . See if you can spot the characters you remember me drawing in the past! . vv Bonus rambling mainly to my future self and some friends:) vv

Hey Everyone! I hope 2024 treated you well! This year was an absolute mess for me… from the horrible, I saw people who I used to be friends with become strangers to me, my uni life is an absolute MESS, not to mention family stuff hhh… but also some good stuff,I deleted an old instagram account that had maybe a couple hundred followers to making an account a couple in late June already reaching 1k and probably gonna reach 2k at some point if my account keeps growing at this rate GNKFJGJ, I made ALOT more animatics this year then I ever did before! It's Definitely gonna help me improve if I keep going at it… ,I made new friends who are in fandoms who I love! Amazing artists and some writers! they bring people around them so much joy! All of them deserve the world! (Yes you do, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!), the world is a train reck right now! But you only live once people! Gotta try your best to keep up the good vibes! but also remember it's okay to cry, to take a break, even if you don't feel great, remember that you survived! You lived another year, you can do one more! even if you are just staying in bed scrolling through your phone seeing the sun go up, you did great! And I am proud that you survived! I am horrible with words especially if it's me rambling… but still, I hope this year brings you peace, weather that be inner peace to be able to talk to someone new without being anxious, or peace in your surroundings I hope it gets better no matter what you are going through! I'm probably just repeating myself at this point so… happy new years everyone! Hoping it'll be a good one :)

[mugzymiik]

HELLOOOO my old intro post is way too long so uhmm heres a better less complicated one

LAST UPDATED: February 20, 2025

HI HELLO!!! call me Gold. or October or Bug. those r my names but idgaf what im called as long as i can recognize it as me :D (pls don't call me Mugzy though)

i am bigender (transmasc + demigirl)!! probably!! gender has been hard lately!!!!!

any pronouns (but he/they + any neopronouns preference)

est timezone

DNI:

homophobics, transphobics, misogynists, racists, sexists, pretty much anyone whos bigoted and/or just an asshole

people who are under 13 (im an older teenager and i dont feel comfortable interacting online with people who arent even SUPPOSED to be online yet)

people who are or support transrace/transabled/transage/transx/transid/whatever the fuck

proshippers

pedophiles

users or supporters of ai """"art""""

supporters of cryptocurrency/nfts of any kind

drama stirrers

supporters/friends of cintagonisupet

supporters/friends of hxngr/constant_hungr/hungry_starving/whatever the fuck he goes by now.

supporters of mirei touyama animations/brebear jones

people named Ry*n or Q**nn. sorry hhh

people who obsess over Dead by Daylight. (i have bad experiences with a person who really likes that game- i wont say full-on dni if you like it because thatd be pretty damn stupid, but if you constantly post about it please dont directly interact with me a lot)

byi:

im a minor !!

i have autism, adhd and anxiety, among other things. im heavily disabled in general and i also joke about that a lot- if you dont like it lol sucks to suck , its my experiences to cope with not yours

i have a hard time reading situations so if i say anything bad/unneeded/confusing PLEASE let me know i /srs do NOT mean any harm to anyone 😭-

tone tags r needed aaa

NO WARPED FACIAL BODY HORROR AROUND ME PLEASE

i am a childish freak <3

i embrace my cringe (even if i get embarrassed about it sometimes /silly). if i find you going out of your way to harass me or anyone i know for being """cringe""" I'll spam your askbox with OwOs and UwUs i am being completely fucking /srs.

i ignore unsolicited dms from people i dont know too well unless it's important

sometimes i delete asks if i dont know how to respond to them ;; i apologize

i block people who make me uncomfortable

my fandoms:

the pink corruption/tpc

just shapes and beats/jsab

warriors

stray

other smaller hyperfixations, some of which come and go

my tags:

#mmmramblez (rambles)

#art + #animation/#writing/#shitpost

#ask

#drawing ideas + #for later

#kinposting

my fandom tags:

#tpc shorts but also not [tpc]

#golds tpc designs [tpc] (posts with the original tag will be edited with this one soon)

#tpc episode [tpc] (i download tpc eps and put em in a google drive bc i REFUSE to give brebitch more views.)

#trongle stash [tpc + jsab] (if you dont want your posts/art in this tag please let me know & ill remove it/try to remember to not put your stuff in it)

#tpc cats end [tpc]

my blogs:

@mugzymiik-infodump

@pinkcorruption-verysillyedition (tpc incorrect quotes; submissions are always open, probably looking for mods too if it gets active again 😭)

@lemonboynotcavetown (Gold rp blog, very headcanon-heavy)

@8sided-insect (BUG RP BLOG!!!)

@pinkcorruptionconfessions (tpc confessions :D)

@tpc-bugverse

(there r other ones but uhh im not listing em theyre REALLY inactive </3

FRIENDS & MOOTS!!!!! <333:

The Goobers <3

@many-faced

@darkhatkid

@/m00nlit_sage

other friemds that are Just As Cool!!! :D

@trash-jsab

@paw-ureyesout

@kitcatttt

@comet--storm

@anonymously-night

@cielos-pasteles

@astronic-fr

@lavthequad

@orchuris

@1nto-the-zone

@cyberrcyanide

@greenpentagon

@taxi-dummy

@cowboytorrenter

@tasty-eggs

@streetmurder

@thesealantern

@frozen-treachery

@octahedral-chaos

@makothedorito

@coresystem

@lesboyajaceare

@snakeualzayden

@fandomt4keover

@something-named-vexxie

@packitupkittycat

me other socials:

discord: @/mugzymiik

youtube: @/mugzymiik

bluesky: @/mugzymiik

instagram: @/mugzymiik

deviantart: @/MugzyMiik

toyhouse: @/MugzyMiik

toyhouse (au edition): @/goldenuniverses

art fight: @/MugzyMiik

strawpage: @/mugzymiik

my discord server!!!

tpcblr discord server! (not mine)

miscellaneous stuff i also wanna say cus why not:

i am a Very Heavy Kinnie of Gold from TPC and the triangle player from JSaB :D and also Bug (tpc oc) too

^my headcanons go for Gold Kin™ too :help: i feel.....snak.

i fucking love cheese and ranch

#1 Mother Mother fan

im so normal about triangles trust

i own Bug hi /silly

i love everything you hate and/or cringe at :)

other stuff:

art Status

commissions: closed with exceptions (cashapp is currently fucking me over the head with receiving money)

art trades: open

requests: closed, only open at times when i say theyre open

art info

commission information (DM ME)

other post shit i made

my tpc headcanons

tpc google drive

squeemsh

TPC SHOWDOWN

divider credits

[purple-space-aliens]

genuinely like hhh therian tag makes me mad sometimes and i wanna go on there and say so many thing but no one ever like listens when i say shit on there and its annoying