#or at least doesn’t ACTIVELY work against me

[clowningcrows]

lol had one of the worst meltdowns i’ve ever had last night which then somehow IMMEDIATELY blended into what i’m pretty sure was the actual worst panic attack i’ve ever had in my entire life

[i-like-loserz]

bunny love

synopsis: hongjoong comes back to find you fast asleep

pairing: dom!hongjoong x reader

warnings: SMUT (18+), idol au, somnophilia, tit play, cockwarming, sleepy time, daddy kink, emotionally unavailable!hongjoong, owner! hongjoong, pet!reader, bunny hybrid!reader, rough-handling, ooc hongjoong! :3

word count: 2k

note: happy new years! i find this guy really cute but also i want him to lose it and pin me down -- that's all ૮ . . ྀིა⁩

masterlist

Your face is exhaustedly smashed into the pillow, the plushness of your cheek squishing against your eye. Hongjoong watches as your back rises with soft breaths, your body completely surrendering to a deep sleep. 

Your tiny frilly sleep shorts stick to your body like second skin, stretching nicely over your ass as your right leg is hooked over another pillow.

Your cute little cottontail is pushed through a small hole in the fabric, fluffy as can be, begging for him to tug on it until you're whining out for him.

Lower, he can see the shape of your soft cunt under the pink shorts, clinging to every dip and mound, for his eyes only. 

Hongjoong decided at the last minute to fly you overseas, sparing no expense, merely because he missed you. He wanted to come home to his sweet bunny instead of his temporary call girls, craving the one thing that only you can give him.

Unconditional love.

A man like him shouldn’t be so easily swayed by his emotions, much less the most trivial of them all: Love. He never had time for them anyway, and even if he did it made things far too complicated for everyone involved.

But after another successful comeback working tirelessly as a the group's leader, you were plopped into his lap as a kind of “therapy pet” by a notoriously morally-dubious investor. Within a couple of weeks, he started to see the appeal of such emotions.

Or at least, the appeal of receiving them. 

At first, he resisted your affections, only asking for you when he wanted a warm cunt to bury himself in. Otherwise, you’d sit in your tiny room, doing pretty much anything to pass the time as he actively ignores your existence in the mansion. 

He assumed you’d be a temporary doll for him to play with before you’d attempt to escape, something to chase during his limited off-time, but he never anticipated just how easily you'd fall for him.

It annoyed him how pleasant you were, never complaining or whining, always staying out of sight until you were needed. It was like you were made for him.

No matter how much he’d taunt, tease, and ignore you, you’d only respond to him with unwavering devotion, seemingly unaffected as your eyes continued to regard him with pure adoration whenever he was near. 

Of course, at the end of the day, his ego didn’t mind the constant attention, so he decided to keep you around–at least, for a little bit– if only for the sake of sating his loneliness (though he'd never admit that). Hongjoong’s arm's length attitude started strong, but he was quickly humbled once he made the mistake of letting you in.

He refuses to admit it, but he has formed an attachment to you. He doesn’t understand why he’d want anyone around, much less a needy pet, but he finds himself craving your presence throughout the day, thinking of you as he works in the studio or is on stage in front of thousands of adoring fans.

After a few months, it was quickly decided that you go wherever he goes, serving as his little therapy bunny, ready to be everything he needs. All your energy was drained from the twelve-hour flight he had you on, only managing to get an hour of sleep the whole trip.

A breathy whine pushes through your throat as you shift on the bed, blinding grabbing at the blanket to pull it over your body. Hongjoong watches with an amused smile, having dragged it off of you just a few minutes early to get an eyeful of your body. He gently pushes you to lay on your back before pulling the duvet down once more.

He bites his lip when he sees how your nipples instantly start to pebble through your cropped shirt as his cool hands glide against your exposed stomach, absorbing your natural heat.

Your droopy bunny ears twitch in excitement from the bare stimulation of his touch, but you remain asleep. Your body is always so responsive for him, even when your mind is unconscious. 

Your tiny hands wrap over his wrist, instinctively pulling him closer as you’re slowly nudged awake. He ignores your grabby hands, brushing them off easily as he lifts your shirt, exposing your bare tits to the cool room. Your body arches ever so subtly at the feeling, an eager action that isn’t lost on Hongjoong.

He drifts the pads of his fingers up your skin, trailing goosebumps as he ascends, eyes focused on your perky mounds. He watches you let out a soft whimper as he circles a bud, unconsciously lifting into his touch as pleasure tingles up your spine.

He goes further, flicking and pinching at your sensitive nipples, drinking in every involuntary gasp and groan you let out. One particularly harsh pinch causes you to flinch and open your sleepy eyes.

Hongjoong watches you blink slowly, eyes bleary as they try to focus on what’s in front of them.

“Hm?” You hum drowsily, voice raspy from sleep. 

He splays his palm over your chest, softly squeezing you in his hand as he greets you.

“Hi, bunny. Miss me?” 

“Daddy…” 

He coos, eyes boring into yours as his hand absentmindedly gropes at your other tit. “That’s right princess. You have a good flight?”

“Mhm.”  You nod adorably slow, chest heaving with excited breaths.

His movements start to slow, his hand now petting short comforting strokes against your skin. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he takes in the dreamy look in your eyes, still fogged over from your nap.

His actions stop altogether as he considers your reclined form under him.

“You sleepy, baby?”

You shake your head adamantly, pushing yourself up to show your attentiveness. Your eyes suddenly brighten with energy. 

“N-no. I’m up.”

Your avid actions are met with a warm chuckle and a hand that shoves at your chest to push you back against the mattress.

“Relax bunny, we don’t gotta do anything tonight. I just finished a round of interviews with the boys and you had a long flight.”

A small disappointed pout pulls at your lips as you grip a pillow on your lap. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, not one to accept bratty behavior, no matter how soft he’s become for you.

“Hey, none of that. Scoot over, honey, let me in.” 

You barely push yourself to the center of the bed, preferring to be right against his body when you sleep. 

You patiently lay on your side as you watch Hongjoong undress, pulling off a ridiculously expensive silk shirt before throwing it carelessly to the ground, happy to be out of the fancy fabric after a long day of charming interviewers. 

You squeeze your thighs together as you drink in his exposed torso: perfectly smooth and defined. You remember the nights you would trace each freckle, touch featherlight so as to not wake him up.

The shirt is followed by his dark slacks and shoes, joining the discarded fabric in a pile for someone else to clean up tomorrow.  

He pushes the ungodly amount of pillows you were sleeping with on the floor before slipping in, shivering as his body acclimates to the residual heat you left on his side. He shifts around the bed before propping himself onto his right side, facing his body toward yours. 

“Turn around.” Hongjoong calmly murmurs regarding your closeness, eyes half-lidded either from exhaustion or desire. You flip over obediently, staring at the gray wall in anticipation as you wait for his next instruction.  

He doesn’t speak as reaches over you, letting out a relaxed sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist. As Hongjoong pulls you closer to nestle his hips against yours, you can feel the warmth of his hard cock insistently push against your ass through your shorts. You let out a soft moean, arching your back to press yourself more firmly against him. 

His face rests above your shoulder as he holds you, lips brushing gently at the edge of your fluffy ear. 

“Daddy just wants a hug, sweetheart. You think you could give me one?” You melt as he addresses you with a soft voice. You wrap your arms over his, giving him an affectionate squeeze. 

“Of course-” Your sentence stutters to a stop as he suddenly starts to tug at your shorts, fingers hooking at the waistband before pulling them down your thighs.

You try to turn toward him, confused by his sudden actions, but his hold keeps you still and defenseless against his hands.

“Wait, wh-”

He promptly muffles your confusion with a hand over your lips as he pushes at the fabric until it’s around your knees, effectively binding your legs together. His hand drops from your face as he reaches down to pull himself out of his boxers, already hard and throbbing for your cunt.

“Dadd-”

“Just a little taste, bunny.”

He rubs the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, effectively coating himself in your slick as lewd sounds hungrily escape between your bodies.

You feel him experimentally push the head in before backing out, teasing your hungry cunt as you try to suck him back in.

“Mm, look at this greedy pussy, all wet, just begging for my cock.” 

“Please, daddy, I can take it!”

He pushes in slowly, softly shushing your whimpers as you struggle to stretch around him, your legs still forcefully bound together, making you tighter than ever. 

“F-fuck.”

He lets out a groan as he bottoms out, forehead pushing against your shoulder as he struggles to hold his hips back from fucking into you.

Just a taste, he reminded himself. He can go a night without a fucking you into the mattress. 

Your body feels restless as his cock deliciously throbs inside you, prodding right against your cervix. You’re ravenous for his usual mouthwatering thrusts, anticipating a hard fuck that’ll put you to your sleep. But it never comes.

You let out a pathetic whine when he continues to remain completely still behind you, refusing to rut into you like he usually does. You try to squirm against his arms in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock, hips wiggling in pure desperation for any type of relief.

A short drag of his cock inside your cunt causes you to squeeze around him, instant shivers running up your spine. Before you can get too far, Hongjoong tightens his hold on your body, tsking lowly as you try to resist him.

“I already told you, bunny, we aren’t doing anything tonight.” He positions his body so he can effectively mold himself along your back. “You’re just gonna keep me warm tonight, okay?”

You secretly wear a pout as you solemnly nod, unhappily listening as his breaths begin to calm down and steady behind you.

A handful of minutes go by and he falls asleep, unbothered by your frustrated form as he relaxes against you, contently stuffed in your warmth.

Unfortunately, his calm silence doesn’t help you one bit. You’re so frustrated that you can probably cum from simply clenching around him. 

Your sensitive clit pulses as you lean back into his touch still worked up from the tit massage he gave you earlier.

Couldn’t he have gotten you off before sleeping? 

You hold a breath as you experimentally tighten around him, waiting for a scolding voice or movement to stop you, but nothing happens.

You close your eyes as you clench again, finally relaxed enough to take in how full you feel. Your cunt flutters in excitement as you mold around his thickness, each squeeze pushing you toward the edge. 

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong feels everything. He has to hold back a groan as wakes up to you pulsing around him, slick smearing over his lower stomach. 

You gasp as he suddenly thrusts harshly against your cervix, still thinking he was asleep behind you.  

His fingers painfully dig into your skin as he growls, “Stop fucking around.” He holds himself deep inside of you, ignoring your whimpers at the pressure. “Go to sleep, or I’m leaving.” You give up, eyes wet from losing your orgasm.

You squeeze your eyes shut to force yourself to sleep, desperately trying to block out the sensation of being filled. 

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “BEHIND THE CLOSED DOORS” ﾉ NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY. GENSHIN IMPACT

afab gn reader ﾉ words 1.8k ᯽ inappriopriate use of work desk and work chair. semi public space — their office. no one is getting caught. petnames — love, beloved, darling ﾉ rewritten ﾉ sumeru version here! ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

NEUVILLETTE ﾉ

“Monsieur Neuvillette, if someone walks in…” You try to negotiate weakly, but his eyes are closed and lips parted, his hands resting on your hips, guiding your movements. He’s sitting on his chair in his office; you’re in his lap, riding him.

How did this happen? You cannot think of it anymore, mind hazy and compliant ideas flowing out of your mind in the rhythm of his pelvis colliding with yours. In the middle of the day, to perform such activities is beyond improper — who would even think of assuming that the Iudex is busy urging you to continue impaling yourself on his leaky cock?

Not even an hour has passed since you entered your workplace, and he already has you on top of him, bouncing on his thighs, moaning into his shoulder, trying not to get too loud.

He’s not helping, not one bit, whispering obscene words into your ear, his grip tight, his girth stretching you so wonderfully, his breath shaky and hot, his chest pressed against your back.

You’re slipping away from the realm of consciousness at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, rubbing confessions of love against your inner walls with each languid roll to match your weakening moves. You don’t care about the consequences, the potential gossip, or the risk of getting caught.

It doesn’t matter anymore. He is now busy with you, and you let him do it all simply because his touch is addicting and his shaft is hitting places that make your brain fuzzy.

Surely, there must be a way to ensure your privacy in his office, at least to a sufficient extent. His grunts are so manly, just a tone lower than his usual whispers, and his lips leave a burning trace on your neck. He must feel rather confident in this situation.

“They will not see. I don’t want to risk showing you to anyone else,” he explains softly, his warm breath fanning your skin and his fingers gripping your waist. “I have the most beautiful darling in the world in my office, and I am lucky enough to enjoy you. I want to do it at my own pace, without distractions.”

Your heart skips a beat at his praise, and you feel your cheeks getting warm, cunt clenching around his delicious girth at the thought of being complimented like that. Seeing how Neuvillette takes you so lewdly, the sounds of your bodies filling the beautiful room lit with the early noon sunbeams.

“Ngh—! I beg you, Neuvi—” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his heartbeat pulsing on your skin, your arms wrapped around his torso.

His fingers trace circles on your lower back, his hips lifting up just an inch above the seat to meet yours, the poor chair under you both creaking with every thrust as his cock reaches your dewy depths. He’s not going rough, but rather slow and passionate, making you melt under his touches, your drenched pussy twitching around him, welcoming him each time anew.

Perhaps unnecessary to add — quite obvious, if you reevaluate his personality — but he’s not the kind of man who takes you quickly. He prefers to take his time and savour every moment, making sure that you know what you mean to him. Not a hopeless romantic, not in this meaning, but his love language is on a whole different level than of any mortal, making you cry tears of ecstasy and pleasure every time he claims you in a similar manner.

“Good… You’re so delectable and outstanding,” he murmurs, sounding so tender, a distinct contrast to his previous rhythm, the change of pace unexpected but welcomed. “I will let you come soon, alright? Will you cum for me, beloved?”

He asks so kindly, like a gentleman brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. The combination of his sweet pleas — nothing that could even be called a dirty talk — and the endearments he uses to address you send shivers down your spine, making your toes curl in a rush of affection.

“Yes, I will. Of course, I will,” you answer, grinding against him harder, trying to find the perfect angle to reach the vertiginous peak of delirium.

“My pretty, pretty darling,” he continues, and his words alone send you over the edge.

You arch your back, moaning his name, riding out your orgasm on his shaft, trembling in his arms. His hands move down your waist and grab your ass, digging into the supple flesh. He keeps you pressed tightly to his hips, the tip of his cock nuzzling against your womb. Just once, a shy kiss to bring you to the finale as your fluttering walls squeeze his whole girth in spasms.

The warmth spreading from his groin and the pressure building announce the impending release, following not long after you. Neuvillette bites his lip, stifling a loud groan, whilst burying his face into your chest, like he’s seeking a safe embrace during the moments of the highest sensitivity. His hips stutter with spurts of hot, creamy cum spilling inside your pussy, filling you to the brim, dripping down his length as he tries to push into you for the last few times.

“Ohh, monsieur—” you weep, such a saccharine sound reaching his ears, when you try to lift yourself off his lap, too weak to actually do this and giving up to sink into his arm once again.

“Yes, my love? Are my words that much of a blessing?” his voice is ragged, a wee decoloured from the perfect tone, but smiling nevertheless.

WRIOTHESLEY ﾉ

You accidentally yelp, the sound immediately causing the crumpled tie to be put into your mouth with force. But are you really sorry for breaking the promise of being silent? If disobeying only results in you being pounded faster and deeper by Wriothesley, the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, where are the bad consequences?

Isn’t that exactly what you wanted to achieve, anyway?

“Shh, little thing,” he mutters, his voice a low whisper, a dangerous growl that sends shivers down your spine. “I told you not to be too loud. I would hate if anyone interrupted our little meeting.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know that his words have their effect on you. He can feel you twitch around his length, squeezing him so tightly he needs to exhale deeply to control himself from cumming immediately after. The friction is so delicious whilst his cock pounds against your fluttering walls, sinking into the warm tightness.

The sounds of your sweet, debauched sobs are muffled by the fabric he shoved between your salivating lips, so there’s not much you can do about the overwhelming pressure building up from your underbelly. The very confirmation of your state are your juices creaming his balls and creating a wet patch on his thighs.

The Duke is a man of honour, more or less, and his promises are true. He told you not to moan, not to scream, not to beg for more, and here he is — pushing his whole girth into your needy hole in a punishing rhythm, pounding into you with all the force he has.

But, again, are you sorry? Not even one bit, especially when his pelvis hits the curve of your ass, the impact sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

However, knowing that he may leave you unsatisfied is enough not to tease him any more and to obey the only rule he has set for you from now on.

It’s difficult to imagine what it must have felt like to see you bent over his desk, picking up stamped documents, the perfect angle and curvature of your silhouette accentuated with the dimmed light. And now you are paying the price — the sweet, sweet consequence of your sultry subconcious teasing.

He’s been stressed, dissatisfied. On edge for a while, ever since that previous issue in the Fortress, and seeing the work piling up in the corner of his office wasn’t helping. Thankfully, at the very moment he has you flat on his working space, his cock buried deep in your hole, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, and everything is so much better. Well, nearing painful, the pleasure so intense, and yet, his strong, rough hands gripping your hips and forcing your body to meet his are the best feeling you could ever hope for.

Driven by lust, fucking you like his life depends on it, his veiny shaft hits spots that make your eyes roll back in ecstasy. He’s not a gentle lover. No, not even a bit. His breathing is ragged, his usually spiky hair now sticking to his sweaty forehead, his collar shirt soaked around his neck.

Alas, who can blame him? He’s been deprived of his daily dose of intimacy and finally getting what he desires. The sound of his hefty erection ramming into you fills the room, his shuddering thighs slamming against your own in a feral dance. One slip up, one tiny mistake, and he will leave you without a satisfying ending; thus, you try your best to stay silent, his orders still echoing in your head.

“Yes, lovely, just like that,” his praises are whispered right into your ear, his lips brushing against your feverish skin, the heat radiating from your bodies.

Wriothesley adores this sight.

The taste of your lips, the scent of your arousal, the vice grip of your pussy swallowing his cock, the damp sounds of your juices mixing with his precum…

It seems so trivial, as if your fucked-out brain is mocking you for even thinking about this. But all you can hear is his soft moans and curses under his breath, and all you can feel is him sinking into your warmth over and over again, splitting you open.

A broken man with his own morals, and he has his own way of expressing affection. Sometimes, it’s sweet and tender lovemaking, and sometimes, it’s rough fucking on his desk, and sometimes he will simply eat you out in the dark corner of the Fortress. Regardless, it always ends with your breathless voice telling him how amazing he was, and then the soft giggles once the adrenaline and the heat die down.

“Endure it just a little bit longer,” he purrs, and his voice sounds so raspy, his accent stronger, his words laced with addictive affection.

That little game of being quiet or getting caught by the people passing by — well, he didn’t lie about it, did he?

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Hazbin Hotel Characters React to You Asking for a Hug (PART 2)

Buckle in bitches, its time for some COMFORT

Lucifer

Guys he’s SO nervous

“Oh really? You, uh, you want a hug from me? Are you sure?”

Nervous laughter 100

Takes a hot minute for him to adjust, but DOES give good hugs

WING HUGS. Y’ALL KNOW HOW I GET ABOUT WING HUGS.

Y’all gotta remember he’s a dad

So good, firm dad hug

His hands are clammy af, but don’t mention that pls

Gives you the opportunity to talk out whatever’s going through your head

Actually has really insightful advice

Like his daughter, honestly so honoured you chose to come to him

Lute

“Must I?”

Begrudging as FUCK

But she’ll do it

If she has to

Stiff, awkward hugs that last for 5 seconds tops

No wing hugs :(

“Human souls are weird”

Tries to teach you how to fight so you can use sparring as a “normal” coping mechanism

Adam

As much as I hate him, would give BANGIN hugs

“Fuck, you wan’ a hug? Fuck yeah bitch, get over here!”

Super enthusiastic about it????

Like, gives you shit, but its still one of the tightest and most excited hugs you’ve ever received

Very very warm

You will probably overheat if you stay there too long

WING HUGS!!!!!!!

Will be extra touchy with you from here on out

Arm around the shoulder, etc

Carmilla

Is she mom, or mommy? Jury’s still out on that one.

Will never ever refuse you if you need a hug

Will, however, try to pull you aside and make it a private moment

Not a big fan on PDA, but your wellbeing takes priority

Makes you rest your head against her chest, no matter how tall you are

If you tell her what’s going on, will fix it

You don’t even need to ask.

She’s gonna check up on you after at LEAST twice

Rosie

Is she mom or mommy part 2: electric boogaloo

Drops EVERYTHING

Ushers you into a sunroom and brews you a pot of tea to share

And grabs snacks, of course

Definitely forgets if cannibalism makes you queasy

Holds you hand from across the table and encourages you to talk it out with her

A lil bit pushy about it, but its from a place of love

But if you need it, will definitely hug you

Another one with bone shattering hugs

Her hands are cold af tho, so beware

Vox

Tbh doesn’t hear you the first time, he’s super focused on whatever else he’s doing

Once he hears you/it registers to him, he’s pretty confused

“Why do you need a hug?”

Only hugs you if y’all are really close

Generally not a touchy person

He won’t stop whatever he’s doing though

Most likely will just sit you in his lap, so he can cuddle And work

Multitasking, bitch

Don’t do it while he’s actively broadcasting though

Super against PDA (bc he’s embarrassed) and will probably snap at you if you break this boundary

Velvette

“Wot. Why?”

Also confused

Like Vox, usually to busy to properly hug you

But will let you stick around and lay all over her while she works

Anyone who questions it dies Very quickly, and Very grotesquely

Very protective

“Babes, do I need to hurt someone? Coz you Know I’ll do it”

Probs takes selfies of you hanging off of her bc she thinks its cute

Will dress you up to try and make you feel better

Valentino

Seek psychological help 💕

I know he’s got a sexy voice, but you know I’m right

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[nyx-express]

Cuddling.

A/n: The line “Don't look at me like that. With the sweet little 'disappointed I'm not getting cuddly Astarion' pout.” made me think. It might call for me to get a grip, yes. But there is the notion of cuddly Astarion existing at other times buried within. So here's a drabble for cuddly Astarion.

Astarion x Tav/reader (no pronouns)

Astarion takes a long while to open up. Cuddling is not a casual after-sex activity for him but deeply emotional, which he doesn’t seem to realise. Usually, he gets up and goes about his day after having bedded someone, or at least puts on clothes before going to sleep - with an arm’s length of space between them, naturally. 

Why would he cuddle, press himself against someone for even longer, when the deed has already been done? And done exceptionally well, of course. His past lovers seemed not even to have the mental or physical capacities to ask for more proximity when he was done with them. Most were content just to sleep and regain their strength. So no, cuddly Astarion had not been required during his tasks for Cazador.

But while travelling Faerun with company, after countless battles, facing death daily on their journey back to Baldur’s Gate, he finds himself overcome with a need to be closer. And when your fingers reach for his bare back as you lie beside him in his tent, his eyes snap open in shock. Shocked that he hasn't flinched, shocked that he doesn't mind your hand running over his scars. He hesitates for a moment, thoughts racing with what he should do, and decides on his favourite option - smoothing it over with a fangy smile. He turns to look at you and pulls you closer, his face swiftly buried in the crook of your neck, away from your view. He breathes in deeply, his hands holding you tightly against him as if you were about to vanish. It takes a while for him to realise you won‘t, to be sure you’re not moving away. Still, he calculates every breath you take and notices every flutter of your fragile, little heart as your body tangles with his. He waits for you to become worked up again, could bet your hands would wander south once more. But no, your fingers rake through his hair, massaging his scalp as the minutes pass, then dance over his shoulders and down his back, and you giggle - you dare to giggle at a time like this!

“You’re unusually stiff,” you whisper and he hears the smile in your tone. “Should I stop?”

“No, I…” He ponders. Should he say it? Out loud? Oh hells, if he must. “I like this.”

“Good,” he hears when one of your hands reaches for his hair again. “Me too.”

[loveyouprongs]

are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

authors note: despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.

[sluttywonwoo]

heat stroke

pairing: song mingi x f!reader

summary: they say laughter is the best medicine… but dick is pretty good too. (insp by ye hao in gq china’s heat stroke bc mingi’s wearing the same shirt 😵‍💫)

warnings: swearing, reader is sick, smut 18+ ; mdni (warnings under the cut)

word count: 1.8k

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie

“how’s that feel?” mingi asks as he lays the damp washcloth across your forehead.

"feels good, thank you," you sigh, smiling softly.

"of course, my love," he responds. your eyes are still closed but you can hear him smiling too. "i'm sorry you aren't feeling well."

"s'okay," you mumble.

your boyfriend makes a sound of disagreement. "you work too hard. it's run you ragged."

"no, it's just this time of year," you argue.

"what, the middle of the summer? don't people usually get sick in the fall and the winter?"

you shrug noncommittally. "i dunno."

"mmmm, i think it's what i said," he continues, knowing you're too weak to put up much of a fight. "you have to promise me you won't jump right back into work once you start feeling better, okay? you've gotta take it slow."

"yeah, yeah."

mingi sighs but he doesn't push any further. you're already feeling crummy, you don't need his badgering on top of that.

"is there anything else i can get you, baby? anything else you need?"

you seem to think about it for a moment before answering. " will you hold me?"

he softens and cups your cheek with his palm, thumb tracing your cupid's bow. "always."

mingi rounds the bed and crawls under the covers behind you, wrapping an arm around your middle as he spoons you. he can feel your fever radiating from your body, manifested into heat that engulfs the entire bed.

"god, you're warm," he murmurs.

"i know, i'm sorry."

"no, no, baby don't apologize. i know you can't help it. feels good, to be honest."

"you don't have to lie," you grumble.

"i like it! i promise!"

he does like it. just like he likes being close to you like this. he hates that you're sick but he enjoys getting to take care of you- something he doesn't often get the chance to do because of how stubbornly independent you are. you're barely letting him look after you now. you only relented and allowed him to when the doctor told you that you weren't contagious, and even so, you're still hesitant to accept his help.

mingi sighs contentedly and pulls you further into him, resting his chin on your shoulder. he expects you to fall back to sleep since you've been drifting in and out of it for most of the afternoon and you always sleep better when he's holding you, but after a few minutes of laying there, you start to shift in his grasp, twisting around like you're uncomfortable.

"what is it?" mingi asks, kissing your neck softly. "is something wrong?"

you shake your head but you don't stop moving against him either and it suddenly dawns on him why you asked him to 'hold you' in the first place. "babe, what are you doing?"

"nothing..."

"it doesn't feel like nothing."

you whine quietly, knowing you've been caught. "touch me?"

your boyfriend clicks his tongue. “baby, i don’t think that’s a good idea. you're sick!"

"i'm feeling better," you insist.

"you’re still burning up. we don’t want to make your fever worse with any strenuous activity. not to mention, you’re supposed to be resting.”

“i rested all day!”

“yeah, that’s how being sick works, dork. you gotta give your body time to heal itself.”

mingi thinks he hears you grumble something about how it’s had plenty of time already but he doesn’t quite catch it.

“we can have all the sex you want when you’re back to a hundred percent, okay?” he offers.

you don’t seem pleased with his proposal but it’s not like you have another choice.

“will you kiss me at least?” you ask pitifully.

you’ve craned your neck back to look at him, using the pout you know he can’t resist to your advantage. predictably, mingi folds like a lawn chair.

“of course, baby.” he softens as he places a hand on your neck to pull you close and leans in.

it’s just a chaste peck at first but it’s searing nonetheless. your poor lips are cracked and dry even though mingi’s been trying his best to keep you hydrated. they feel like they’re on fire, burning an imprint that mingi can l feel on his own lips once he pulls away.

you don’t let him off that easily though, and chase the kiss until he finally relents and kisses you back so you don’t strain yourself. by that point you’re practically on top of him, straddling one of his thighs as you moan into his mouth.

“you’re hard,” you point out once you finally come up for air this time.

“you were pushing your ass back into me and now you’re trying to make out with me, obviously i’m going to be hard,” your boyfriend mutters.

it also doesn’t help that you’re grinding on his thigh and he can feel the wet heat of you through your panties.

he knows you’re aching for him and he feels guilty having to turn you down but the last thing he wants is for you to feel worse because of him.

“we could do something about that,” you suggest.

“i can do something about that later,” he amends. “try to sleep.”

"what if i just lay there and let you do all the work?"

"oh, so you mean normal sex for us?"

"i would smack you if i had the strength to."

"it was a joke! you know it was a joke!"

you cough weakly. "i'm sick, you're supposed to be nice to me."

"i am being nice to you," he insists, "i'm taking such good care of my girl, aren't i?"

"you could be taking care of her in other ways too," you point out.

mingi groans. "you're insufferable."

"your fault for having a perfect cock."

"oh, it's my fault?"

"yeah, that's what i just said."

mingi tongues his cheek. "still feeling well enough to be a brat, huh?"

"always."

"and you're sure you're feeling well enough for sex?"

you nod against him. "yes, baby. please?"

"what if i just touch you down here," he asks lowly, shifting his weight to lay you back on your back so that he can slip a hand beneath the waistband of your panties.

you suck in a breath as his fingers find your clit and start to circle it with practiced ease. he keeps the pressure of his fingertips light, touching you the way he does when he's trying to get you worked up, knowing you're already way past that point. he can't help teasing you a little, wanting to get back at you for being such a menace.

"mingi," you whine, pushing your hips up to meet his hand.

"you're not supposed to move, remember?" mingi chides.

"you're making it hard on purpose," you protest.

"you're one to talk," he mutters. "you don't want me to get you off with my fingers?"

"i want your dick."

mingi pretends not to hear you at first but he only plays with you a few moments longer before he relents, sliding his hand back out from your underwear and sucking his fingers clean.

"fine, but we're going slow," he says. "and if you start feeling any worse you have to tell me, okay?"

"i will," you promise.

"atta girl."

he pushes back the covers just a little and removes the washcloth from your forehead, folding it before placing it on the nightstand. you watch him yank down his sweats and spit into his palm, stroking himself a couple of times before positioning his body over yours.

"aren't you going to take them off?" you ask, glancing down at your own underwear.

"nah," your boyfriend answers. "just gonna pull 'em to the side. this won't take long."

you don't get the chance to tell him off for his smug comment because he kisses you as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling your panties to the side just like he said he would and slipping the tip of his cock inside of you. you're so wet that there's barely any resistance when he pushes in further but you still gasp at the feeling of being stretched around him.

mingi checks in with you as soon as he bottoms out, panting only slightly as he asks, "feel okay, baby?"

"better than okay," you moan. "h-how does it feel for you?"

he doesn't know how to put it into words. it's incandescent, the heat of you, engulfing him entirely.

"different," is what he manages to choke out.

"bad different?"

"no... fuck no. it's- your pussy is so hot. your fever..."

your eyes seem to widen with the realization.

"does it hurt?'

"no, baby, it feels good," he assures you, "feels fucking really good."

you whine and try to push your hips up into his again, desperate for him to fuck you harder, but he's quick to stop you with a hand to your chest.

"we had an agreement," mingi mutters. "you're supposed to just lay there and take it like a good girl, or i'll stop."

you mumble out a half-assed apology and mingi chuckles. "it's okay, i know it feels good. but we don't want you to end up feeling worse later on."

"i know, you're right."

"let me make it up to you," he murmurs, snaking one of his hands down in between your bodies so that he can rub your clit again.

your reaction is immediate. you get even tighter around him and let out a gasp that turns into a whimper.

"gonna cum?" he asks, grinning when you nod. “told you it wouldn’t take long.”

his confidence is honestly unmatched for someone who’s also hanging on by a thread. but how could he not be confident when he has you dripping onto the sheets, when he has you begging him to fuck you even when you’re achy and fever-ridden.

“cum on me, cum all over my cock,” he urges, willing himself to last long enough to fuck you through it.

somehow he finds the strength and staves off his own orgasm until you're crying his name and gushing around him. he's careful not to crush you when he cums, holding himself up on shaky arms as he fills you.

as soon as the room has (mostly) stopped spinning, mingi's badgering you with questions. the post-nut clarity has him rethinking everything. he shouldn't have let you convince him to fuck you. he should have had more self-control.

"how are you feeling? was that okay? was it too much?”

“it was perfect,” you promise him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "thank you for taking care of me."

he breathes a sigh of relief and lets his head drop back on the pillow. "anything for you, baby. i'll get a towel to clean you up, and another one for your head. you get some sl-" he's interrupted by a soft snore before he can finish his sentence. you'd beaten him to the punch and fallen asleep almost immediately after he had taken your hand. you were one step ahead, like always.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

To be clear, I don’t hate the direction Caitlyn’s arc took — rather I hate how it was handled.

Her falling back on her privilege in a state of grief and anger makes sense, and creates a genuinely interesting route for her, which they could have addressed in multiple ways and stuck to the theme of oppression and how Piltover was so quick to switch up at the actions of one Zaunite. I think perhaps it would have worked better initially if Vi’s arc to becoming an enforcer was a season long conflict for her, but other than that, I have no qualms with how Cait’s arc started. The issues begin the further her arc goes along, and it becomes clear, at least to me, that they don’t actually know how to balance making Cait sympathetic/nuanced in her grief, while also still giving her genuine consequences for what she does to Zaun, and the contrast between years of death and hatred causing Zaun to start lashing out at Piltover, vs Caitlyn losing her mother and immediately lashing out against all of Zaun. This isn’t to say her grief is invalid, rather she is hurting and poisoning people over it, whether they be innocent in her eyes or not.

I’ve seen some people say it isn’t that bad because she only targeted gangs or Jinx — her main target — but the fact is gas cannot be controlled like that. It spreads. This is likely the same sort of gas that poisoned Viktor. We know what it does. And hell, the gangs are a product of the system and Piltover’s oppression and ignorance of Zaun, something Arcane acknowledged in season one, and then barely paid mind to in season two.

The fact is, Cait is a privileged cop who causes a rise in violence against Zaunites, and this is only briefly acknowledged in act 3 before we move onto other things. Vi’s confrontation towards her doesn’t feel like a consequence either, because it barely lasts, and Cait’s choices barely have an impact on the story, because even though she and the enforcers plagued Zaun for the first two acts, they still end up joining forces with Piltover, and it feels forced.

Cait simply doesn’t work in season 2, because for her to work, they would have to actively acknowledge the class divide and treatment of those in the Undercity, and season 2 refuses to properly do that, thereby painting Cait in a better light than she should be painted.

[drabblesandimagines]

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

[eli0004]

Levi Ackerman NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: sub!Levi x Reader

Warnings: msub, dominance, degradation, praise, some heavy kink activity and whatnot, mentions of insecurity

(AN: I’m sorry this took me forever, but I was thrilled about this request because I LOVVVVE smut alphabets. Please feel free to request more, or ask for further elaboration on anything in this one! 💜)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When Levi is coming down from the high of his orgasm, he can’t hide the fact that he’s feeling good. He’ll lie there with you, head on your chest as his shoulders rise and fall while he catches his breath. You can stroke his hair and run your thumb over his cheek, and he’ll turn to gaze up at you with soft, sleepy eyes. It’s really a treat to see this side of him, so relaxed and pliant. And if you’re lucky, you could watch his eyes flutter closed, and hear his soft snores as he drifts off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He isn’t confident about much, but i can see Levi being confident in his jawline. I envision him turning his head to the side and taking his straight razor down his neck, scraping off the shaving cream and admiring, even if it’s only for a moment, the sharpness and angularity of it.

On you? Is it a cop out to say everything? How could you even ask him to pick something when he loves all of you so much? But, in all seriousness, I think Levi would find “unique” features very attractive. If you have a larger nose, vitiligo, lots of freckles, stretch marks, surgery scars…etc etc. If you’re insecure about it, Levi loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he’d prefer to cum either inside or catch it somewhere for easy clean up, but his orgasms, more often than not, tend to be quick and intense. He’s cumming before he can really even think about where to do it. If you’re giving him head, he’ll feel himself getting closer and closer and he’ll writhe and paw at your hair, but the scorching pleasure tends to make his brain short circuit, and he can’t find the words to warn you. Recognizing body language is very important when in bed with Levi.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I feel like, from time to time, Levi imagines what it would be like to fully dedicate himself to submitting to you. Allowing you to make the smallest decisions for him, how to spend his money, when to eat or drink, when - and where - to use the restroom. I believe he fantasizes a bit about life as a lifestyle sub, living entirely for you and what makes you feel happy. It’s what makes him happy.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

My personal favorite is inexperienced/virgin Levi, but if we’re being realistic i’d say he’s at least got a hand job or two under his belt. I think given his past, and how he grew up, he doesn’t place as much emphasis on sex and sexual experience as your average man. If you ask him, it’s just a normal thing that people do, it’s human nature to chase after pleasure.

Then again I also think, perhaps given the more traumatic aspect to his past, there’s a high possibility that he has some underlying negative feelings about it, whether he realizes it or not. When in a relationship, i think it likely takes many months before he feels comfortable enough to indulge in the act. But once he does, he can be a bit insatiable at times.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Riding!! Levi likes to be beneath you, but this certainly doesn’t mean you’ll be doing all the work. He’ll do his best to make you feel just as good as you make him feel, roaming his hands over your thighs, chest, thumbing over your clit/tip. He likes when you cup his jaw and tilt his head to force eye contact. You can watch him struggle to keep his eyes open while he’s dizzy from the pleasure.

If he’s feeling extra mushy gushy, he might like missionary, pressing his body tightly against yours and all but laying on top of you. He’ll bury his face into your neck and grunt and groan softly against your skin as he thrusts slow and deep. Run your fingers through his hair and gently tug, scratch down his back, he fucking lives for that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To Levi, sex and intimacy is an act of worship. To praise your body and your heart and to show his gratitude and gratefulness for the way you love him. He’s far too enamored, too consumed by emotion to even think about being unserious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps neatly trimmed, but he’ll only shave if he fucks up the trim somehow. That said, it’s Levi we’re talking about, meticulous is his middle name. When would he ever fuck up anything? So, neatly trimmed it is, dark, course and it thins out into a sexy little line that comes up just below his belly button. Happy trail supremacy 😩

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As previously stated, sex with Levi doesn’t exist without intimacy. This man is nothing if not passionate, and he puts everything he has into it, just to show you what you mean to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Levi rarely gets off on his own, i think it makes him uncomfortable to be so hormone driven. When he goes a while without seeing you, he’ll ignore those random erections and push away the horny thoughts until it becomes unbearable, and only then will he take care of himself.

However, i think Levi is a big fan of mutual masturbation. He likes having your eyes on him while he strokes himself, the way you gaze at him like you’ve never seen a sight so mouth-watering, so mesmerizing. It boosts his confidence ten-fold. When he’s getting closer, his hand will speed up and his jaw will go slack, you can watch him hunch over himself as he cums, balls tightening and contracting as he spurts over his knuckles.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Levi likes to challenge you when he’s feeling a bit more freaky. When there’s a lot of sexual tension between the both of you, he likes to be put in his place. In those moments, he can be a bit of a brat.

He likes to be teased, though he often pretends not to. If you want to build up that tension, you can send him sexy looks, touch him when no one is looking, get him all flustered just to walk away and make him wait. He’ll call you a tease, tell you you’re being mean, but it’s clear that he loves it by the way he seeks you out for more.

Manhandling? He’s a sucker for someone who can push him around, force eye contact with a firm grip on his jaw, back him up against the nearest surface for some steamy kisses.

Praise and degradation. When he’s being good, dote on that man. Tell him he’s your good boy, dish out all the rewards. When he’s being a pain in your ass, a little condescending degradation gets him all hot and bothered. Caress his cheek with a sweet smile and tell him he’d better cut the attitude before you leave him to fuck his fist like the horny little bitch he is.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It’s a common headcannon that he’d most prefer shower sex, and while i do think he’d enjoy it for obvious reasons, i think he’d also be fond of the intimate aspect of doing it in low lighting, trapped between the bedsheets, when he’s feeling a bit more soft.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you care for him. His main love language is acts of service, that’s a no-brainer at this point, but it works both ways. You cooked a meal for him? He’s gonna have you for dessert.

Levi has very little experience with feeling loved, so the quickest way to turn him on is to baby him, regardless of how he might pretend he doesn’t need it. Three words: do it anyway. And seeing you do it as if loving him is like second nature is a sure way to have him all over you.

And if you initiate, it’s even better. Show him how much you want him, when you’re kissing and grinding up on each other, slip his hand between your legs to feel the effect he has on you. Knowing he turns you on, that you want him just as badly as he wants you, that sort of thing gets him hard embarrassingly quick.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It’s hard to say, because most of the time Levi would do just about anything you ask him, especially if he trusts you. But i don’t think he’d be too much of a fan of blood/knife play or emeto/scat. Essentially, no infliction of real lasting pain, and nothing that is, in his eyes, “unhygienic”. He sees enough of that in his day to day life and derives no sexual pleasure from it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He may not be a pro, but Levi learns by watching how you react. If you twitch or throb or quiver when he licks you there, he’ll double down and drive you wild. Going down on you isn’t his favorite way to get you off, but he would spend an eternity between your legs if you asked him to.

In terms of himself, Levi doesn’t always understand why you’d want to put him in your mouth, but he’ll never complain. He keeps himself nice and groomed, clean and he’ll never force your head unless you asked him to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and his breathing gets a bit shaky when you’re kissing down his tummy. But all that nervousness dissipates the second he feels your tongue swirl around his tip, too drunk on pleasure to be so cautious.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on how he’s feeling, if he’s in a more relaxed and romantic mood he may prefer gentle touching and body worship, whether you’re doing the fucking or he is. He likes those slow, deep strokes, so he can feel every inch, in and out.

If he’s feeling moody or stressed, or even simply pent up, Levi is ready to get his back blown out. He likes it face down, ass up. Or if you’re on top, have a firm grip on his throat and force eye contact as you slam down on/into him. The quickest way to hear those pretty little sounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Levi doesn’t mind them, but always expect more later. Quickies are more of a warm up, or a form of foreplay in his eyes. Especially if you use him to get yourself off and leave him hanging. It sounds mean, but sometimes he likes you a little mean. It’s always worth it when you milk him dry later anyway.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

In the beginning, new ideas are met with some level of skepticism. Over time, the more trust is established, the mo comfortable he becomes, the more he’s willing to try new things. He knows you’d never steer him wrong or force him into an uncomfortable situation, but it’s crucial that he feels safe enough to speak up when he’s not feeling it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s not as energetic as he used to be, but he can go a couple times with breaks in between. Overstimulation puts him in subspace pretty easily too, so don’t be afraid to test his limits.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Vibrators vibrators vibrators!!! He loves them! He won’t say it, but when you pull out your little bullet, Levi feels such a wave of excitement. He always cums twice as hard when you suck him off with it pressed up against his taint, or trace it over his balls. If you want to tease him extra good, you can ghost it over his tip and watch his thighs start to tremble.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Levi doesn’t tease as much as he tests your boundaries. When he wants to be put in his place, you’ll know by the way he isn’t as quick to follow directions, or his sarcastic remarks when you’re breaking him down. There’s something he loves about watching your eyes go from gentle and sweet to domineering and animalistic. That’s how he knows he’s gotten just what he wants.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Rarely is he truly loud, but he’s definitely not quiet either. Levi is expressive in his own way, through heavy labored breathing and soft hums of pleasure, “ngh” and “mnm” sounds. He gets louder as you dish out more and more, and when he’s close, his jaw slackens and he inhales sharply, before letting out a drawn out, breathy groan.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Levi is shy about titles, but the closer he gets to subspace, the less his inhibitions are present, and before you know it, he’s responding to your instructions with a “yes ma’am/sir” or “ok mommy/daddy”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He isn’t big, but he isn’t small. I’d say Levi is packing pretty average, with a good amount of girth. He has a slight upward curve, and such a pretty pale pink color. He leaks too, especially when he’s pent up. A bit of dry humping and heavy kissing is all it takes to have him leaving dark wet patches on the front of his pants.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a moderate sex drive, but even if he’s been desperate for you all day long, sometimes he finds it hard to initiate. This goes back to the whole “recognizing body language is important” thing, because more often than not, he’s going to show you he’s in the mood.

He’ll be more touchy, you’ll notice his eyes lingering on your body, he sits closer to you and makes his presence more obvious. Once he’s gotten more comfortable in the relationship, he might press himself against you during hugs, so you can feel him semi-hard in his pants, or his kisses might become longer and laced with desperation.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It really is a battle in his mind: to stay awake and snuggle up, or to give into exhaustion. He can’t help but feel extra relaxed when you’re done coaxing orgasms out of him, and his eyes get soft and dreary. Pet his hair a bit and hold him tight and he’s out like a light.

[charliemwrites]

Part 7

Content: sparring and injury

Sparring is one of your favorite activities. With your team, it’s a chance to learn and improve, to keep from falling into old habits. And yes, okay, it’s also become something of foreplay. Especially with your captain, who seems to delight in tossing you around and pinning you with his bulk.

(And Keegan, who came in his pants once when you had him in a chokehold, one your thighs between his. But no, no, now is not the time to think about that…)

You’re not the best hand-to-hand operator on the team, sure. That title belongs to Nikto, who hits so hard and fast you’re down before you even realize he’s swinging. But you’re certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Not this much though.

If you were in the mood to give them credit for anything — and you’re really not — they’re at least subtle. You don’t catch on during the first round with Soap. Your brain has completely transitioned into the comfortable rhythm of practice combat. Something to be taken seriously, but not the high-stress of victory or death in a mission.

No, Soap gets away with it in the moment. You only notice as you’re taking your water break, rotated out with the uneven numbers between your teams. You’re surveying the pairs and notice him sparring with Keegan.

There’s something decidedly more intense about it. Like… like he’s putting real effort into trying to beat Keegan. An effort he did not put into fighting you.

Rage burns through you, hot and thick, buzzing in your head.

Does he think you’re not worth any real effort? Does he think you can’t handle a proper fight, that this is just playtime? Is he really treating you like some fresh-faced recruit that needs to be babied after all this time?

When you captain finishes wiping the floor with Gaz, you go to his side. One look at your face and he knows.

“Whose head is rolling?” He asks, plucking your bottle from your hand for a sip.

“Soap threw our match.”

His eyes flare before he closes them, swallows the water in his mouth and sighs.

“How do you want to handle it?” He asks.

“Wait, wait,” Gaz interrupts. And the look your captain gives him… Christ. To his credit, he doesn’t back down though. “He probably just thought it would be good, yeah? To… let you get some anger out.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, a mean laugh slipping out. The captain arches his eyebrows in what could almost be sympathy. Or arousal, hard to tell when he’s got such a good poker face. (Mix of both, you figure)

“Oh, he wants me to get some anger out?” You roll your shoulders. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Ghost is your last match before reset — before you’ll get a chance to show Soap just how much steam you need to let off.

Except now that you’re looking for it, you recognize almost immediately that he’s throwing the match. Probably especially because it’s Ghost. You never stood a chance against him before leaving, even now you didn’t have optimistic expectations for a fight with him. So the fact that it doesn’t feel like you’re working for every inch you gain…

The final straw is when you try a move from before. Something he never fell for once and always reprimanded you for using. He “falls” for it this time. You don’t pull your punch when it goes directly into his face.

Know immediately that he’s feeling it, that wicked hook Keegan always whistles over. Blinking past his mask. And you don’t let up, pressing and pressing the advantage. Take him down to the ground using all your built strength, twisting into a vicious arm bar and pulling, pulling, pulling—

“Bloody hell, I yield!” He snarls, palm slamming against your thigh.

You release him, but not without one last nasty kick to the soft spot beneath his ribs.

The gym has gone silent. You don’t care, pushing to your feet with hands still balled into tight, angry fists.

“You ever throw a fight with me again, I’ll break your fucking jaw, Riley,” you snarl.

Price, expression stormy, takes a step forward.

“He threw the fight?” He asks.

You scoff, “Either that or the 141’s quality is lacking nowadays.”

You step off the mat to join the rest of your team, exchange a frustrated look with your captain. Nova comes to your side, curling a finger into your belt loop in solidarity.

“Gotta say, Price, I’m disappointed,” your captain says. “This is getting out of control. I won’t have my team put at risk because yours can’t keep it professional. I’d rather just tell Laswell to get you a different support team.”

You’re almost surprised to see how the 141 jolts, four pairs of eyes flicking to you in panic. What in the actual hell?

“Take it easy,” Price says, eyes flashing. “I’ll have a word with them.”

You glance up at your captain, see from the twitch in his jaw and the tightness around his eyes that his patience for this is wearing gossamer thin.

“See to it. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do.”

He turns his back on the 141, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, pressing a kiss to Nova’s cheek when she sends you a worried look. Whatever weird issue the 141 is having, they need to stop making it your issue.

“Keegan, with me,” your captain says. “Nikto, you’re up against the girls.”

Nikto tilts his head in a nod, then jolts as you and Nova take either side of him.

“Gonna show us a good time, Nik?” You coo.

“Always love a tag-team,” Nova purrs.

The captain grins. “Have fun you three.”

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Masterlist

[drabblejester]

Sampo, Ratio, Boothill and Argenti with a female reader who is sweet, kind, and caring girl has an alter ego who is violent, cruel, and occasionally even sadistic to her enemies

how VARIOUS HSR GUYS would react to your FUCKED UP AND EVIL ALTER EGO!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: sampo, ratio, boothill, argenti x fem!reader (can be taken as gn!reader too)

content warnings: mentions of violence

comments: oughh yummy … i put this one in a bulletlist i hope thagts alright my liege. i don’t know how alter egos work that well so i bs’d it up </3

DR. RATIO:

unless you are actively going to hurt him, he wouldn’t mind TOO much

don’t get me wrong he’d still call you violent and such when you slip into the ego, and he’d absolutely try to restrain you from harming people

but i mean. if you’re not affecting him or someone close to him, he’s okay with it

he treasures your ‘normal’ self equally to your ‘altered’ self, finding both of them interesting

he wants to study you like a bug. like he REALLY wants to figure it all out. talk to him about it!!! he’d listen very well

SAMPO:

i’m not even gonna lie he’s probably so scared. keeping his distance like a scared little dog

he’d be FREAKED out the first time you slip into the ego, wondering if he made you upset with anything. he treats you so nicely during the ego and ofc when you slip out of it

even after you explain it all to him, he still gets nervous and gives you extra chocolate and flowers when you’re in the ego

HOWEVER, he might help you in your antics! particularly if it’s against someone he doesn’t like

you two are a great team, both crazy mode and normal mode <3

BOOTHILL:

he’s also concerned, less scared but more just ‘man what the hell happened here’

he watches you while you tear through a crowd of IPC, happily cheering you on before he jumps in to help.

to help you with your violent tendencies in the ego, he tracks down the nearest IPC groups for you to obliterate

becomes the ULTIMATE hypeman during this too, winding you up and letting you go absolutely CRAZY on a bunch of people while smiling the whole time

and afterwards he cleans you up and wipes the blood off of your shoes, gives you a nice little bath, and helps you to bed (assuming you’re tired after all of that)

ARGENTI:

he’d absolutely be like ‘stop!! this isn’t like you!! look at me!!’ like, he’d get physically in the way between you and whoever you want to fight

it probably doesn’t work. so he just picks you up and runs away with you slung over his shoulder, praying to idrila that you don’t bite him or something

he brings you home and BEGS you to talk about it. what made you mad, what he can do, etc. after you communicate, he buys you a punching bag for you to put your energy out on

sometimes he’ll just wake up in the middle of the night only to hear you going BATSHIT on that punching bag. at least he can sleep well knowing you aren’t hurting other people

similarly to boothill he will happily set you loose on someone dirtying the name of idrila though. go my scarab!

enjoy the snacks my liege..

[seiwas]

contains: suggestive, slight mentions of alcohol, a lil bit cheesy but when is love not, unedited happy birthday, my love 🥺

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

at least, not as much his mom and oikawa do, with lit up candles and striped party hats in his rumpled godzilla pajamas. it's greetings at midnight, on the dot, no matter what—even through the crackling sound of static over ocean waves.

he definitely doesn’t care about it as much as his college friends do, with them slapping his back and elbowing his side until his ribs hurt just so he can down another shot for the 'nth' year of his existence.

(they try with all their might to get him past the 5th, but he's driving tonight; and if there's anything about hajiime stronger than his tolerance, it's how resolute he is—firm in his beliefs and even more with his principles.)

so, hajime doesn't care much about his birthday.

but you do, and when he says things like—

"it's not that important, we don't have to."

—all you hear is, 'bla bla bla, it's important, bla bla bla we have to.'

you prepared a picnic for him, among all the other activities you planned for today.

this morning, you served him a hefty stack of pancakes with a rice bowl full of his favorites (that he took a bite from oh-so-sweetly, only to push it to the side before gripping your thigh, deciding that he wanted something else for breakfast instead).

then, you went on a hike. just a short trek up his favorite spot an hour out of town. hajime likes being under the sun; he loves the heat, the sweat that trickles down the divots of his muscles because they mean hard work. a good effort. a sign of trying.

he loves tackling you the most in this state—sticky and sweaty, a little slippery. you hate how it mixes in with your sunscreen, but love how hajime feels against your skin, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and chin tucked sloppily against your neck.

so you let him.

(and even though you tell him he gets a pass because it's his birthday, he knows that isn't true. you always let him do this, anyway.)

his favorite roast beef sandwich, then a shower and dessert (yes, together) later have found yourselves here, at the cusp of sunset, a drive up at your favorite spot overlooking the city.

you prepared a picnic for him, packed all his favorite snacks and berries; made a small chocolate cake with the letters 'hbd hajime ♡' in even smaller fondant cut-outs. simple and minimal (because you know he would prefer it). you intended to watch the sun go down cuddled up in the few blankets you brought, but the weather���s been gloomy for the past 30 minutes, and even worse than that—it's begun to rain.

hajime can sense your stress, he always does, and when he rubs circles on your back telling you, "it's not that important, we don't have to."

you only feel the need to prove him wrong.

if you push forward the chairs in the middle row of his suv, you'll have enough space at the back. and if you park the car to face the view, you can still catch the twinkling of city lights when it turns dark.

the cogs in your brain turn and your brows scrunch as you remain silent, so much so that it begins to worry him.

rain patters against the windshield, and hajime leans over the center console, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"it's okay, babe, you've done so much for me already. we can go back—"

"no," you look him in the eye.

because, it is important.

hajime, the man you love and have loved for the past 4 years; the most hardworking, determined, and considerate man you've ever known was born today, 26 years ago.

and hajime might not care about his birthday because he doesn't think it matters all that much, but it matters to you, because this has been the most important day of the year to you since first meeting him.

"give me a bit," you twist to face the back, "excuse me," urging hajime to move to the side as you cross the center console to the seats at the middle row. you push the seats forward and bend over the backrest, hauling your picnic basket, blankets, and pillows to the now vacant and spacious trunk.

"i can help—" you hear his door handle click.

"no!" you shout from the back, "remember, we agreed! birthday boy relaxes and enjoys!"

he isn't happy about it, and you know he'll insist that he can only relax and enjoy if you're relaxed and enjoying, but you work quickly enough that he doesn't get to argue.

when you call him to the back, you've set up the entire space. the picnic mat is laid out, pillows placed comfortably in areas you both can cuddle in. a bunch of berries and crackers are laid out in a makeshift food section, along with a few bags of chips and the small chocolate cake you stayed up last night making. you serve water as your drinks because hajime prefers it that way.

the sight that greets him is more than anything he thinks he deserves, but what truly takes the cake is you, sitting on the palms of your feet with your baby hairs matted to your forehead and the sweetest smile reaching your cheeks. you hold up your phone to show a live youtube video of a setting sun in some place, somewhere in the world, and amidst the rain pattering against the roof of his car, hajime thinks he would rather have this over a real sunset, somewhere in the world, without you.

he crawls over to where you are, careful to avoid the food you set up. his cheeks hurt from smiling, eyes crinkling as he takes your cheeks in the palms of his hands, squishing them together before kissing you with all the love he can't put into words.

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

but as he parks the car in reverse, positioning the trunk to view the city lights down below, he sees the twinkle in your eyes and can’t help but love how happy his birthday makes you.

[solarmorrigan]

Like You've Seen a Ghost

For the @steddie-spooktober day 6 prompt: Haunted Rated: T | Words: 1348 | CW: brief descriptions of blood and gore, mentions of past head trauma | Tags: pre-relationship, modern AU, ghost hunter Eddie, ghost whisperer Steve, Steve Harrington has head trauma Divider credit: @saradika

“So… are you getting anything yet?”

“Not really.”

“Well, which way should we go?”

“It doesn’t really work like that, man. I don’t sniff out ghosts.”

“Well forgive me for not knowing how your whole ‘I see dead people’ shtick works.”

Steve glances over at Eddie in the low light of the long hallway. He looks just as grumpy as he has since it had been suggested that he and Steve pair up to check the third floor of the hotel – supposedly the most haunted part of the building.

“You don’t believe I can see dead people at all,” Steve says, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“What, could you sense that, too?” he snarks.

“Nah.” Steve shrugs. “I heard you talking to Gareth and Jeff about it.”

At that, Eddie has the decency to look a little sheepish; he hadn’t had the most flattering things to say about Steve in that conversation.

It had been the rest of the team—Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver—who had pulled for this little team-up as a sort of special episode for their YouTube channel; Eddie had been against it from the start. He’d insisted that their viewers expected supernatural investigations based on scientific techniques and equipment, not some fake psychic (charlatan, actually, had been the word he’d used) who takes people’s money and pretends to see their dead relatives.

(Steve, for the record, does not take anyone’s money. Whether or not he sees someone’s dead relatives, he does it for free.)

“Uh… look…” Eddie starts, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“It’s fine, man, I get it,” Steve brushes off what likely would have been a very awkward apology. “You can’t do what you do without a healthy dose of skepticism. And it’s not exactly like I can explain it; it just kind of happens. But I promise that when or if I see a ghost, I’ll tell you to get your camera.”

“Right,” Eddie says quietly, turning back to the gadget in his hands (some of it had been explained to Steve, but he won’t pretend he knows just what the hell kind of science goes into ghost hunting).

They fall into a stilted sort of silence, Eddie scanning their surroundings with whatever it is he’s holding and Steve keeping his eyes peeled for signs of ghostly activity. He can’t say he’s thrilled to be spending the night with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be with him, but it’s really no skin off his nose if Eddie doesn’t believe in his abilities; Steve isn’t Tinkerbell, he doesn’t run on the belief of others.

He hadn’t really even meant to become– well, not famous, but maybe internet famous, at least. He’d just figured that as long as he had the ability to see and speak to the dead, he could use it to put other people’s minds at ease. People who worried about their dead loved ones, or people who were being terrorized in their own homes. Sometimes Steve could put spirits to rest. Sometimes all he had to do was tell someone that their dearly departed whoever was nowhere to be found and must be at peace.

It had sort of snowballed after one person he’d helped had told another, who’d told another, who had the ear of someone with a reasonably popular podcast, who had wanted to talk to Steve, and suddenly Steve had been getting calls for other interviews, for “psychic” investigations, and, apparently, for team-ups with some well-known ghost hunters.

“What did happen?” Eddie asks, breaking a little sharply into the silence.

“What?” Steve looks back over at him.

“You said it just kind of happens. So have you always been like this, or…?”

“Oh. Yeah, no, I got hit really hard in the head,” Steve says.

Eddie stops walking, and now he’s the one staring at Steve. “You what?”

“Got hit in the head.” Steve knocks at his temple for emphasis. “It was… pretty bad. Apparently, they thought I was dead for a minute there. But I lived—y'know, obviously—and now I get really bad migraines and I see dead people.”

“How does that even work? Like – did you cross over, or some shit?” Eddie asks haltingly, like the words are unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Couldn’t tell you. I’ve always kind of thought of it like an old TV set,” Steve says. “My grandparents had one when I was a kid, and it didn’t get great reception, but if you smacked it in the side, sometimes it would find a channel. So, I got hit hard enough that I changed channels, I guess. Now I can see things on frequencies other people can’t.”

“Shit, man,” Eddie says, blinking at Steve. “That’s actually pretty metal.”

“Thanks?” Steve shrugs, starting up their meandering walk down the hallway once more.

“I just mean, like – must make for a good story to tell, right?” Eddie tries.

“Oh, yeah. Head trauma, it’s great for dinner conversation,” Steve drawls, and Eddie winces.

“Sorry, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine, I’m screwing with you.” Steve knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s; it isn’t that Steve hadn’t been fucked up over the fight with a local bigot and bully that had nearly killed him, but that had been a while ago, now. Steve’s processed, made his peace with it – even gotten something kind of useful out of it. He’s fine. (Like, most days. Most days, he’s fine.)

Eddie rolls his eyes, but there’s also a little smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. It looks nice there – better than the snide look of disbelief from before. Whether or not Eddie does believe him now, Steve likes that he put a smile on his face.

“Hey, we’re coming up on room fourteen,” Eddie says, nodding to a door at the end of the hall.

“And that’s the super haunted one, right?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” Eddie reaches out as they approach, turning the knob. “Story goes that a husband and wife were staying in this room, way back when the hotel first opened in the 20s, and the wife pocketed a knife from dinner, waited until the dead of night, and stabbed her husband to death in his sleep before slitting her own throat.”

The room that the door opens into is far more unassuming than the gruesome tale would have had Steve believe. It’s decorated in the vintage style maintained throughout the whole hotel, kept clean and guest-ready, but there’s something – heavy about it. Something Steve can’t quite put his finger on. He approaches the bed; he can’t imagine it’s the same mattress there from the 1920s, but he does wonder if it’s the same bedframe.

The heavy feeling is getting stronger.

“Why did she do it?” he asks, glancing around the room; he doesn’t see anything, not yet, but there’s still something–

“No one knows for sure,” Eddie says, breezing past Steve and plopping right down on the bed, bouncing a little as he sits. “Some people say he had been abusing her and she’d finally had enough. Some say he was cheating, and she was jealous. Some say she just lost her fuckin’ marbles.”

“What, just like that?” Steve asks, still glancing around warily.

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs. “Hey, maybe if the lady’s ghost is still hanging around, you can ask her.”

Steve turns back to Eddie, and the comeback dies on his tongue.

There, kneeling up on the bed, right behind Eddie, is the wife.

It can’t be anyone but her, crimson stains running down the front of an old-fashioned nightgown, blood still oozing from the gaping wound in her neck, the knife clutched in her hand glinting silvery and slick red as she stares down at Eddie in a way that Steve doesn’t like one bit.

“Eddie,” Steve says, slowly reaching for the other man.

“What?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed as he clocks the change in Steve’s demeanor.

Steve grabs him by the arm and yanks him up, maneuvering himself until he’s standing between Eddie and the bed – between Eddie and the ghost.

“You might want to get your camera.”

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- To the Beach! GOM x fem!Reader

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Recovery date: May 10th, 2024

Description: hiii!! hope your having a good day, I was wondering if I could request GoM x reader (separately) with a maybe more quiet and shy reader when they go to the beach and see her in a bikini (maybe a bit suggestiveee but it’s up to you!) they can get a bit flustered and protective 😭 thank you so much and dw if you don’t/can’t complete it <3,

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with @smtere we thank them for their contributions. Hope you don't mind the headcanons, it was the easiest for so many people. This is meant to be post last game, probably summer of their 3rd year.

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Akashi

Is the most outwardly chill about it

Though he does find his gaze drifting and lingering (Aomine got halfway through calling him out once before eating sand)

The first time he justifies it as admiring your swimsuit, every other time is just a whoopsie

He’s not weird about it though, and he tries his best not to stare

Makes sure you put on sunscreen/ cover up if he thinks you need it

Will complement how it looks on you

I did say “most outwardly chill” and I meant it

He may seem cool as a cucumber but if you hug him he will short circuit

He doesn’t get much affection on a normal day and while he is much more mature than his friends, I refuse to believe this boy is not fighting off indecent thoughts every so often

Build a sand castle with him please

Midorima

Flustered and can’t hide it

Dude is pink, and not from the sun

His gaze also drifts and lingers but he won’t even give himself a chance to admire you

You cannot convince me Takao has not corrupted him, at least a bit, he can’t look at you without hear Takao teasing him

Like Akashi he looks out for you if you’re prone to sunburn

Midorima isn’t weird about you wearing a bikini, he just makes it weird by actively avoiding looking anywhere but your face

He definitely relaxes throughout the day though

By the time you’re leaving he compliments you, having finally looked somewhere other than your face

He’s fine with whatever you want to do, might even begrudgingly let you bury him

Kise

The most chill, he has sisters so bikinis aren’t something overly suggestive to him

That said it’s you so it does make him a bit flustered

He is also the most obviously protective because as a model he’s very familiar with… lingering gazes, there will always be weirdos

Keeps a shirt on while on the beach, claiming he can’t afford to burn, but it's actually incase you want it for whatever reason

He definitely enjoys the extra contact though, whether that be an arm around your waist or offering to carry you on his back, Kise strikes me as a touchy person

If your swimsuit starts to come loose he’ll offer to fix it for you

Showers you in complements

Wants to collect shells and swim

Murasakibara

Could not give two shits

Kise was chill, Murisakibara just doesn’t care

He compliments the swim suit, and he definitely stares a bit but when he gets caught he apologizes and looks away

Won’t initiate physical contact but doesn’t mind it, feeling your skin brush against his when you hugged him did make him jump a bit though

I don’t really have much to say here because I really don’t think he’d care

Although he will confront anyone making you uncomfortable, his stature is more than enough to make most people back down

Wants to spend the day lounging on the beach, you might be able to convince him to come float with you

Aomine

If it was anyone but Aomine it would be weird

Shamelessly stares

You can call him out on it but he’ll just make a sound of acknowledgement and keep staring, unless you tell him he’s making you uncomfortable

He may be forward and unashamed but he’s not a complete ass

If someone else is making you uncomfortable or just keeps staring he will fight them, though he tries to avoid that

Asked Momoi for one of her towel jackets for you incase you wanted it, he almost regretted it when she started teasing him for being a softy

He compliments you, but it’s stuff like “your boobs look nice”

Will imply he’d like to see you “show off” more often

Also fairly touchy, like Kise, and will offer to help fix your swimsuit if needed

He will also throw you into the water, there is no escaping

Kuroko

Like Akashi he’s outwardly cool and inwardly panicking just a bit

He will try and fight anyone making you uncomfortable but Aomine and the others have to save him

Like Akashi and Midorima will keep an eye out if you’re prone to sunburn

Any physical contact you make with him will spook him just a bit

He’s close with Momoi, and we know she wears bikinis so I think like with Kise they aren’t anything suggestive to him

I don’t have much to say here either because Kuroko doesn’t really wear his heart on his sleeve, though he will linger a bit closer to you throughout the day

Complements your swimsuit

Prefers to spend the day reading on the beach