#I just um that's whew okay

[aheathen-conceivably]

not an ask! just wanted to say that your story is lovely and one of the most beautifully captured and told i have ever seen! the way you depict and write your characters just brings them to life and i can't wait to see each and every post that comes from you <3

Just, ahem, excuse me while I crumple into a tiny little ball and cry in happiness…

This ~especially~ hits because your Hayes were one of the stories that inspired me to start this lil blog way back when I did so I am just 😩

But whew, all my tears dried (maybe? not really…) thank you so very much. I sometimes think maybe I’ve gone a touch too far in turning everyone into an emotional wreck but hey, look at me, what would you expect? 😅

[mangostarjam]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT I sent this to one other person and I feel like maybe you’d also vibe with this but PLEASE DONT FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO RESPOND OR WRITE ABOUT THIS I JUST LIKE SHARING THOUGHTS

So like Hoshina is lowkey possessive(not like scary kind but the kind where it’s like “hey that’s my gf wtf”) and lets say his s/o is a platoon leader and people have noticed that she has a bite scar where her neck and shoulder meet(maybe one of the rookies likes her oooooh 👀) and there’s rumors and NO ONE KNOWS HOSHINA HAS A MATCHING BITE SCAR ON HIS NAPE BECAUSE ITS ALWAYS COVERED BY HIS COMPRESSION SHIRT(and then Kafka notices in the bath ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE VICE CAPTAIN IS MARRIED) AND JOKES ON EVERYBODY BECAUSE HIS WIFE IS ALSO POSSESSIVE(or maybe she got fed up with his shit once and bit him back lol)

OKAY ANYWAYS I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME PLEASE MAKE SURE TO REST AND DRINK WATER BYE

-🐌

bless you snail anon i was ignoring some hardcore writer's block and this jump started something in my brain

bathtime revelations — hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established (secret) relationship, reader is a platoon leader, some minor narumi slander (sorry buddy. love that loser but it had to be done), biting, marking, possessiveness, uhhhh hickeys, edging?? nothing descriptive though sorry not today, 1.7k words

"Did you get attacked by a kaiju there, platoon leader? That's a strange looking scar."

The remark is innocent enough. You've been a member of the Defense Force for ages, and it's only natural to have numerous scars and aching bones from all the missions and kaiju neutralizing. Especially since you're a platoon leader of the Third Division, and you've leapt into the thick of things time and again to help Captain Ashiro get the best possible angle for her killing shots.

It would be fine, except the scar in question is a neat ring of teeth marks at the juncture between your shoulder and neck, where you're sensitive.

"Oh... no, that's not. Um." Shit. You've taken some of the Vice Captain's newest officers for an afternoon training session, and they're all looking at you now as you fumble for an explanation that doesn't expose your relationship. "I didn't get attacked by a kaiju, don't worry."

"Eh?? But that looks like a bite mark, platoon leader!" Iharu's voice is loud. You frown at him.

"It wasn't a kaiju," you say firmly. That much, at least, is the truth. "Anyway, if you guys wanna stay alive with just as many battle scars as me, go run some laps!"

Whew. There's a murmuring grumble, but everyone obeys orders. The summer heat and humidity wears you out quickly, and in an effort to combat the drain, you've stripped down to a tank top and your uniform pants. The bite mark in question feels like a brand on your skin, a ring of slightly raised flesh that should blend in with your other scars except for the clear circle it makes. You watch the rookies run, but your mind drifts, thinking back to when you got that set of teeth marks on your skin. Your body warms at the memory. Stupid boyfriend with his stupidly sharp canines.

You snap back to attention as Kikoru and Reno jog past, their words floating towards you on the breeze —

"—looks like maybe human?"

"Definitely not kaiju. You think the platoon leader's still with the person who marked her?"

"Oh, we can't ask that. Hibino senpai will be devastated."

Oh, jeez. There's no way you can let your boyfriend hear anything about this —

"How's it goin', platoon leader?"

Shit. You turn to the Vice Captain of the Third Division and frown. "What're you doing here?"

Hoshina Soshiro smirks at you, taking the tiniest step closer into what most people would consider to be personal space. "Just checkin' on my lil' fledglings! They've still got breath to gossip, eh? Are ya lettin' 'em off easy today, platoon leader?"

"I was letting them run off some energy so they'd forget about this bite mark on my neck, you vampire," you mumble. Soshiro laughs, leaning just a bit towards you. The afternoon sun glints off his purple hair in sparkles that dazzle your eyes, though it's easy to get pulled into his orbit when he's so magnetizing. You catch yourself and bring your outstretched hand up to your face, rubbing at your nose instead of sinking your fingers into the fluffy strands like you intended.

"Sounds like someone's got a lil' crush on our fearsome platoon leader," Soshiro says quietly, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Not that I blame 'em since it's you we're talkin' about. Still, it'd be good to send a message, y'know? Should I refresh your marks tonight?"

Your face feels hot. "'Marks?' But only one of them is visible when I'm in uniform!"

"What about the bath? We should give Shinomiya somethin' to report, don'tcha think?" His low voice sends a shiver down your spine and you frown to hide how much it's affecting you. Your boyfriend tilts his head. "Fresh marks'll show 'em all you belong to me."

Something hot and sharp lances through you and you bite at your lip to hold in a whine at the words. "That won't work," your voice is breathier than you'd like, but Soshiro is watching you like he wants to eat you alive and it's thrilling and terrifying and not enough. "They won't know it's you unless we match."

He raises an eyebrow at that, but the corner of his lips twitch as he fights down a grin. "Good point, platoon leader. We should discuss this in my office later."

"You're a menace."

Soshiro's smile softens into something fond and he takes another tiny step closer, until the fabric of his jacket brushes against your bare shoulder. You inhale his scent — bright, woodsy, something intrinsically Hoshina Soshiro — and all of your muscles relax. "And you're too dang cute for your own good, my love. See ya later?"

You nod and salute as he walks away, biting down a silly grin as you watch him call out encouragements and teases to his rookies. They all respond with good cheer and an edge of fierce determination, and once Soshiro fully exits the training area you allow yourself to return to the task at hand. You know, possibly more than anyone else on base, how hard Soshiro works to take care of his officers. You aren't going to let him down.

... but maybe you'll die of embarrassment first.

"Platoon leader! Did you spar after our training session? I would've liked to join!" Kikoru says, coming closer eagerly as you begin washing up in the communal bath. Your hand slips along your leg as you jerk up in surprise and Kikoru visibly falters as she takes in your bruises.

"This was a... private session, Shinomiya. I'd be happy to spar with you another time, though." Your entire body is warm, and not from the steam wafting through the echoing room.

"Aah, yes, of course! Sorry to disturb you, platoon leader!"

You resume your scrubbing with a quiet snort, listening as her footsteps return to the corner where Akari and Hakua are clearly ready to pounce. The girls probably don't realize how much sound travels in the bath, but you can hear their hushed whispers and giggling as Kikoru reports back that you're covered in hickeys.

You press down on a few of the blossoming bruises between your thighs and snort again. There's no way these could pass as training bruises — they're too intentional, too close to your aching center where Soshiro paid special attention earlier in his office — without letting you reach your peak. Bastard.

He made sure to leave marks along your chest and neck and shoulders again, taking advantage of your tank top for its easy access to your skin. Only after begging and pleading did he finally remove his stupidly tight compression shirt for you to drag your nails down his back and shoulders, fingers fisting into his hair as he licked and sucked at your core. After he ripped away your orgasm, you made good on your promise and left your own marks on his skin, kissing and sucking along the strong column of his throat and shoulders and pumping him with your hand until he nearly came on your thighs. Two could play at that game, after all.

Your ears perk as you catch your boyfriend's name. "Vice Captain Hoshina says I'm improving rapidly," Kikoru says cheerfully, tossing her head back. She certainly has the right to boast — her combat power levels just keep rising. She's going to make both of you proud. "Someday I will beat him in a practice match!"

"I'd like him to spar with me," another officer giggles. "Have you seen his back? Defense Force men are really no joke."

You bristle automatically. You're used to it by now — Soshiro's hot — but it doesn't make it any easier to hear confirmation of the fact out loud. "What about Captain Narumi? He's got really nice arms!" another officer says.

"You mean Captain Ego?" The communal bath fills with laughter as the girls gossip. "He's good looking, too, but Vice Captain Hoshina in that shirt..."

You're done bathing and changing into your nighttime clothes when a loud commotion from the other communal bath erupts. You share a look with a few of the girls, but you take your time pulling on your clothes (Soshiro's shirt, your shorts, your panties mysteriously missing — though you're sure you'll find them safely tucked into Soshiro's own sleeping pants pocket later).

You come out of the changing room and blink. "Vice Captain, how could you?!" Kafka is wailing dramatically. "You've already beat me by taking my spot by Mina's side, but you're beating me in having a girlfriend, too?!"

"Hang on a sec, old timer! You've already got the 'childhood friend promise' with the Captain!" Iharu shouts. "Leave something for the rest of us!"

"My, my, what a fuss," Soshiro says, waving his fingers. You blink, but the vision before you doesn't change. Most of the men are shirtless, towels wrapped around their waists as they spill out into the hallway in their chaos, and Soshiro is no exception. You can clearly see the raised pink lines your nails left behind on his densely muscled back, even with the small clump of officers between you. "We're all gonna catch a cold standin' out here like this."

"Those bruises on his neck... they look... fresh..." Reno says, his bright gaze darting between his Vice Captain and your exposed neck. Belatedly, you swing a towel around your shoulders, but Reno's eyes widen and you groan inwardly. "The platoon leader has fresh bruises, too."

Soshiro turns and your eyes snag on the blossoming pink and purple along his neck and shoulders. A quiet satisfaction settles in your gut at the sight, and you can't help but grin. "Keep that up, Officer Ichikawa, and you'll end up getting snagged for the Investigations Unit."

"They look good on her, don't they?" Soshiro hums, raising an eyebrow as the officers put two and two together. He meets your eye from across the small group and smirks. "Ain't it nice, platoon leader? Matchin' with the Vice Captain?"

Your answering smile makes his face light up with a deep fondness. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[bergandysam]

Kim Seokjin Fic Recs

‼️18+ minors DNI, if you choose to anyways, PLEASE be careful. try to heed our warnings, we have them for a reason‼️

More Recs Here

he’s insanely good looking your honour

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MENTIONS OF DEATH!

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like i said at the end of my last fic rec post, if any of you have recommendations for me, please send them through!! my inbox is OPEN and i am always looking for more things to read!!! 🫶🫶

[taesancult]

taesan + possessive sex + filling your womb with his cum 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

(it's possible) he'd be very sexy if he did that💋

WHEW- possessiveness + jealousy is such a good look on him like him rolling his eyes, clenching his jaw, glaring- i love it i live for it truly

warnings: objectification, boundaries being crossed (not by my king taesan tho, by a stranger), dirty talk, possessiveness ofc, breeding, i went overboard AGAIN! because this is my man and i love him, big dick!taesan bc it’s canon, unprotected seggs (be safe!), kinda rough tbh

18+ stuff under the cut. mdni.

taesan doesn’t get jealous all that often, and if he does he’s upfront about it. letting you know so that way the two of you can talk things out and figure out where this jealous is stemming from. however, he can’t really control his emotions when someone else can’t get a hint. say a person that profusely kept hitting on you, despite him literally being right there.

you two would be out at a party, the night was actually going great, until some guy wouldn’t leave you alone. at first, taesan didn’t care as the guy made small talk with you and he was watching from across the room. he started to really care when that same guy put his arm around you. um no. you abruptly turned, pushing the guy off of you and telling him that you’re taken. taesan saw this guy literally shrug and that’s when he really got pissed. he made his way across the room to you and immediately put an arm around your waist. “excuse me. she’s mine.” he said as he glared at him. “she’s not an object. seems kinda toxic of you. call me if you ever want to get away from him.” he gestured to you. oh he was fuming now. little did that random man know, you liked it when he was possessive, you liked the idea of being an object. his object.

he knew it was better to be the bigger person, so he grabbed your arm and led you away. he went outside, stopping to check on you. when you assured him that you were okay, just a bit frustrated. then, he asked if you wanted to go home, and when you said yes, he raced home. as soon as you got there, he slammed you against the wall. “did you like that? i bet your pussy is practically gushing from that interaction.” he’d accuse you with a fire in his eyes. “n-no he was so gross! but…” “but?” he raised his eyebrow at you. “seeing you get so angry for me was so sexy.” you would tell him as you had a flirty look in your eyes, causing him to smirk at you. he wasn’t mad at you, he knew it wasn’t your fault, but he was furious to say the least. “i’m going to ruin you.” he would say as he picked you up, taking you to the bedroom.

once the foreplay was done, he would turn you over so you were lying on your tummy. “ass up, baby.” he’d say as his voice was laced with impatience. you quickly got into the position, your face smushed into the pillows as you felt his hands tightly grip your waist. you had already reached your high a few times as taesan really wanted to overstimulate you, to show you only he could please you. he guided his hard cock to your cunt, rubbing the tip all along your folds to tease you, some of your wetness from your arousal and previous orgasms coating his cock in the process. “dongmin! no teasing, just put it in already!” you whined out, the emptiness of your pussy starting to annoy you. “yeah? my desperate girl wants my cock?” he’d arrogantly ask, and in turn you would just moan out into the pillows. “yes! need your big cock in me, show me who i belong to.” oh he would absolutely wreck you after that statement. his ego was through the roof, a smile plastered on his handsome face as he started sliding in.

once he made sure you were fully comfortable, he would just start going at it so heavily. smacking his hips against your pelvis as his grip on your hips never let up. you would definitely have bruises tomorrow, and the thought just made you even more turned on. “fuck- this pussy is the best,” he’d groan out as he started pumping faster, “gonna cum so deep in you, you want my cum, baby?” he would ask, and you would just moan out. he would smack your ass, prompting a response, “use your words.” “yes! want you to cum in me so bad!” he would keep pumping his cock into your cunt, his pace only faltering as his high got near. he snaked his hand around your body so he could rub your clit. you moaned out, your body clenching around him as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. “fuck! i’m gonna cum.” he moaned out as he felt himself on the brink, and you were right there with him. “inside! want all of it!” you cried out causing him to finish, his cum coating your walls, filling you up so deep. the feeling of his cum inside you as well as his hand still playing with your clit was enough to make you reach your high too.

as your highs started to fade, the two of you basked in the afterglow. he flopped next to you on the bed, making sure to wrap a gentle arm around you. you both were breathing so heavily together from the sheer impact of your orgasms. “god, you really need to get jealous more.” you said to him as he laughed at you. “really? you like that side of me?” he said as he smiled at you. “yeah it’s sexy, but at the same time you know i’m yours right?” you asked, and he nodded his head. “i know baby, and i’m yours, it’s just fun to have a little drama in our lives huh?” you both smiled at each other as you then spent the night cuddling.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you utter with each step, the pinch of Floyd’s-- Lloyd’s hand digging into your neck.

“Shut up,” he growls as he as good as drags you.

You walk on your toes, scurrying to keep up. You cling to his wrist to keep your balance as the witnesses turn their heads away. What the heck? What is going on? No one’s going to help you?

“Get in,” he opens a car door and push you so you nearly ding your head on the side.

You catch yourself on the metal and carefully duck down, only for him to shove on your head and slam the door. You compress yourself in the seat as he stomps around the hood. Jeez, that sort of anger isn’t good for you.

He drops into the driver’s side and hits the steering wheel, his anger brimming through flared nostrils. You watch him nervously, waiting for him to explode. It’s like you can see the fuse burning, getting shorter and shorter as he tries to calm himself.

“I’m done talking,” he snarls and sits back heavily. He pulls at his belt buckle as he lifts himself above the seat. “You’re going to use that mouth for something good. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

He pushes his fly open as the buckle tinks and you cringe as he shoves down the elastic of his sleek leopard print briefs. Wow, very 70s of him. He rolls the fabric down his thighs as his dick springs free and you put your hand over your lips, hiding a smile as you snort.

He lowers himself and snarls over at you, “are you laughing?”

“N-no. Well, yes, but I just think... they kinda look funny, don’t they?” You poke your finger up to mimic his hard length. “Boing.”

“What is wrong with you?” He sneers. “How many have you even seen?”

“You know, I’ve been on the internet. I’m a child of the digital age so... probably too many.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” he grabs the back of your head and jerks you towards him, “look, sweet lips, do yourself a favour and stop resisting.”

“Um, favour?” You reach out to grab the steering wheel, fighting to stay away from his lap, “I... I got dry mouth. I can’t--”

“Just open up,” he grunts, shoving on you. He’s strong.

Your arm bends and you collapse onto him, headbutting his dick as you do. You shake your head as you raise it and he suppresses a whimper. He fists your hair and pulls you up, jarring your head back violently.

“Fuck off,” he grits out, “open your damn mouth. And no teeth.”

“Look, I really am not in that kinda mood--”

“I’m about to break your teeth, cupcake. Are you gonna keep arguing?”

You blink at him and weigh a life time of smoothies and broth. His eyes narrow and you gulp. You squeeze your lips tight and try to dip your chin down. He slackens his grip just enough for you to make eye contact with his tip.

Whew, okay, right, you’ve seen some things on The Hub. It can’t be that hard. Figuratively. Literally, it does look pretty hard.

You shudder and suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. This isn’t really how you saw your first-time but nothing’s really gone to plan, has it?

You lick your lips and open your mouth as you bring your hand around to grip him. Thick, you think. Looks and feels like it. But the skin, so smooth. You didn’t expect that. You face down the great dragon, throbbing up at you, you will vanquish your foe.

You lower yourself down and hover your lips above his swollen head. You stick your tongue off and flick it around his tip. He twitches and lets out a hiss. You try not to laugh. So sensitive. You press your lips around him and continue to swirl your tongue. You’re not super sure of what you’re doing but it feels right, even though the circumstance is very wrong.

You stretch your lips around him until your jaw aches. He’s gotta be big. Thinking about it, maybe thinking too much, he’s a lot like the men you see in your incognito searches. You’re no prude, you just haven’t found the right person. He’s definitely not the one but well... let’s not think about that.

You ease onto him, feeling him quiver as his breaths puff out slow and long. You take him deeper and deeper, pausing as he grazes the back of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and try to rear back. He keeps a hold on you, urging you down.

Your throat strains around him as he forces his dick deeper. You nearly gag, your foot kicking the interior. You’re bent over the console, half-twisted, your shoulder bearing too much pressure for comfort. Your eyes water as you find yourself suffocated with his intrusion.

He holds you there until your quaking. He lets up and you pull off of him, coughing and hacking. He chuckles and releases your hair, petting your head.

“Go on.”

You close your eyes and tremble as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, the other still circled around him. You pump then put your lips around his tip. You flick your tongue around and around, taking him in gradually. You reach your limit then back up, dragging your hand in tandem with your mouth.

A saltiness spreads over your tongue and you press it along his base. He growls and his hand spreads across your crown. He leans back into the seat, extending his legs as far as they’ll go in the cramped space. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak as he grips it tight as you pick up the pace. Hopefully if you go fast, it will be over soon.

“Slow-- sweet lips, hold up,” he rasps, “slow--” He yanks you off of him and hisses, slamming an open hand on the horn as he spasm and curses, “fuck! I said slow--” He lets go of you and contorts as he cradles his sack and squeezes his dick tight, a gush bursting from the tip, stringing down his knuckles and onto his pants. Those look expensive. “What the fuck? You went too fast.”

“I... I didn’t mean to. I just... I did my best,” you stick out your tongue and wipe it on your sleeve, “I never did that before so... my bad.”

He gapes at you then his eyes drift through the windshield. He shoots a passerby the finger as his little honk drew the attention of curious eyes. He growls and opens his hand, examining the sliminess across it.

“You made this mess,” he snarls, “better clean it up.”

Your brow creases and you shake your head, “you got kleenex?”

“With your goddamn mouth,” he barks and sits back. “Hurry up.”

You keep from looking out the window as humiliation seeps in. The realisation that a very private moment is on display makes you nauseous. You bend over his lap again, once more taking him in your hand.

“Good girl,” he purrs as your lips touch his skin, “gotta say, those hands are a lot quicker than that head.”

[butchcarmy]

Blood Orange (Ch 2: The Bathroom)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18, MDNI)

Rating: E (5.7k)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 1

Chapter Summary: No more fucking your boss. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but he doesn’t make it easy, even as you find yourself wanting to scream. Somehow it all falls away when you lower yourself to your knees before him. You don’t know if there’s any stopping this anymore. 

Content Tags: work sex, blow jobs, mouth fucking, CUM PLAY, dom/bossy carmy, coworkers with benefits, carmy being difficult, mental illness, they/them reader, gender neutral reader, the usual

A/N: WHEW. It’s here! Thanks for waiting y’all. I think I embarrassed myself writing this one (flushed emoji). It’s ramping up. Next chapter is gonna be big one. Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy! <3

Before you go to work the next morning, you make yourself come on your fingers. It would've been twice if you had more time. 

You open your eyes waking from a dream with his ghostly blue eyes and low voice, and you already know you're wet before you even touch yourself. The pads of your reaching fingers chase the tender spot Carmy stroked inside of you, but they don't quite make it. Of course they don't. 

Fingering yourself eases the ache for a little while. On the early morning transit with headphones over your ears, you still manage to find yourself aching for him. The music doesn't cover up the sound of his voice, and you catch yourself grimacing in the faint reflection of the dirty metro windows. 

This is not a good way to start your second day at work.

Since you left the walk-in yesterday, Carmy's been following you around like a mosquito in the summer, whizzing around your head, buzzing in your ears. You can't rid your thoughts of him. When you close your eyes, you're trapped in the fridge with him, again, and his fingers are deep inside you. 

Fuck. You're standing in front of the restaurant, willing yourself to go in. Just stop it, you think to yourself. 

You really should be more mad at him. He technically never apologized for insulting you, but you suppose you didn't expect him to in the first place. You didn't usually get apologies at places like this, from people like him. You don't want to get in the bad habit of expecting good things from broken people.

No more fucking your boss, you think resolutely to yourself, and that's the thought you meditate on as you open the door. 

By this time yesterday, there were already a couple of people floating around the kitchen. Today, you find dim lights and silence. Your footsteps feel too loud on the white linoleum as you walk to the lockers to drop off your stuff. You can’t pretend to understand the schedule yet.

“Carmen?” You pace around again as you secure your apron with a tie. No response. Surely he's here, at least. Someone had to open the place. 

You take a couple more steps when you hear his voice. 

“No, I'm not—that's not what I was sayin’.” The direction of his voice sounds like it's coming from his office. “Of course I miss him. Sugar—” A pause. “I know. Yeah. It's bullshit.” He laughs then, you think. You can't measure how genuine it is. “You're bullshit. Look, I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll—yeah, I'll look at it. Promise. Yeah. Bye.”

It's quiet after that. You're standing there, not sure what to do with yourself when you hear footsteps. Sure enough, Carmy pops out of the office, and you catch just a glimpse of something haunted in him before surprise takes over.

“Hi,” you say at the same time he says, “Jesus Christ.”

“How long have you been here,” he asks, as you go, “That's an interesting way to pronounce my name.”

“Um,” you start, and he stares at you blankly, unreactive to your joke. Too early, you guess. “I just got here.”

“Okay. Cool. Uh…” Anxiety radiates off of him, making his hands fidget and run through untamed hair. Not that you were looking at his hands at all. “You’ll be doin’ prep again.”

“Alright.” You expected as such. You’ll probably be on prep for the rest of the week, if not the month. That’s how most places go, but this isn’t most places. 

“Your station was dirty when you left yesterday.” You walk up to your station, and it’s spotless. “I had to clean it before I left.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that,” you apologize quickly. I was preoccupied with other things, you think bitterly to yourself, thinking of locked doors and heated kisses. Not that you’ll mention it. “I’ll make sure to clean it this time.”

“Prep’s gonna be a bit different today,” he says, completely ignoring your apology. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping. “You’re gonna inspect produce, and then you’ll prep the stock again. Correctly this time.”

“It was nearly perfect, I just misplaced it,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah, nearly.” Looks like he heard you this time. Asshole. He places a box of onions on your station, rattling the table slightly. “Do I have to tell you how to sort out the bad ones from the good ones?” You’re honestly not sure if he means that as a jab, but the way he says it makes your insides sizzle with irritation.

Don’t take it personally, you remind yourself. Don’t. Take. It. Personally. 

“How about you show me just in case? Just so we’re on the same page.” It’s a wonder how calm you keep your voice. To your surprise, Carmy doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t sigh, he just nods and proceeds. Every time you think you’ll predict him properly, he does the opposite. 

You follow the line of his callused finger pointing to brown splotches on some of the onions. Intently, studiously, you examine the dark spots (indicative of mold), the sprouts (initial stages of deterioration), and the mushy areas (a sign of decreasing freshness). He’s talking about details as he seems to do when it comes to food, even elaborating on the farming process, but you don’t quite pick up that part. You just pay attention to the parameters you need to follow.

No more fucking your boss, you remind yourself again, because you catch yourself aching at the sight of his fingers. Your eyes have a hunger of their own, flickering up and down his muscular arms. God damnit. Maybe there’s another reason you can’t quite pay attention today. 

“Are you listening?” Carmy’s pointed question snaps you out of it. Fuck. You hope he didn’t catch you staring at his fingers again.

“If I can save it and just chop off the bad parts, then I should,” you regurgitate on instinct. “Those are the best ones to use for the stock. Otherwise, I should just toss it.”

For a split second, all he does is fix you with his focused stare. You feel the intensity of it in your chest, your beating heart fluttering with its weight. No matter how many times you scold yourself for finding him attractive, your eyes can’t ignore what’s right in front of them. You find yourself counting his moles. 

“I caught you staring,” he murmurs, “for real this time.”

“I—uh—” Your eyebrows are so raised you’re sure they’re bound to shoot off your warmed face. He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. You weren’t going to mention yesterday, and after your first interaction this morning, you were sure he wasn’t going to, either. Guess you were wrong again.

“I’ll be in the back if you need help. The others should be here soon.” He’s moving on without giving you a chance to recover. Your brain can’t process the shock. “Just call if you need anything."

Before you get a chance to scrounge up anything to say, you’re alone in the kitchen again. 

This time I'm really gonna do it, you fume internally. Because you have a healthy amount of anger management, you don’t let yourself continue that thought.

Sydney is the third person to show up after you and Carmy. You give her a nod and a thin smile as she walks in, and she waves back. Soon after she arrives, the others trickle in one by one. As you're learning to expect, the quiet never lasts for long. 

There are tasks circling you just like yesterday that you don't fully grasp yet. Everyone seems to be instinctively following their own schedule, their circadian rhythm matched to the chaotic ecosystem of the kitchen. It’s just as suffocating as it was yesterday. You remind yourself that as a new hire, you don't need to understand the madness yet. Nonetheless, an invisible pressure presses down on you. 

“Hey, d'you mind telling me where this produce goes?” A triple stack of filled containers sits heavy in your arms. With Sydney out of the kitchen, Marcus is your next safest option in terms of coworkers. His head flicks up from where he was focused on kneading dough. A streak of white flour is across his nose. 

“Oh, that one's bottom shelf, near the back.” He claps his dusty hands together, flour falling between them like snow. “Here, I'll just show you. You know where the walk-in is?”

With Marcus, it doesn't feel like there are any stupid questions. It's a gift you don't take for granted, especially around here. You let him lead you to the fridge again, even though you remember where it is. It doesn't hurt. 

“Thanks. I'm, uh, still having a hard time figuring out where stuff goes,” you say after you put the produce away. 

“It’s cool. It's only your second day, right?” You nod. “Just takes time. Don't sweat it. You ever work in a restaurant before?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“Then you know what you're gettin’ into.” That makes you laugh. 

“Sorta.” You shrug. “To be honest with you, I just need money, and I like cooking enough, so…now I'm here.” You're not quite as honest with how desperate your situation was on the verge of coming, but it's fine. Not really the time and place for it anyway. 

“I gotcha. That's how it was for me too, actually.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, that's how I started at McDonald’s. That was a while ago now.”

“I see. It's better here, I hope.”

“Hard to say,” he says, but there's a little smile on his face. “For the most part, Michael was cool, but—”

“Michael!” You blurt out, startling the both of you. “Holy shit, I'm sorry. I've just been trying to remember the name of the previous owner for forever now and—wow, sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”

“It's fine.” Marcus has this amused expression, but it dissolves quickly. “You met him?”

“I did. I came here a couple of years ago when I first moved. Just once, but—anyway, what's his deal?”

“His deal?”

“Yeah, like, why'd he give the restaurant away? Carmy said he didn't want it anymore.”

“Oh.” You can't read the way Marcus’ face shifts. “That's what he said?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see. Okay. Uh…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know how this sounds, but just try not to bring Mike up for now. It's still kind of a sore subject.”

“Ah, my bad.” Your brain instantly supplies stories of estranged families, sibling spats, and stolen money. You suppose it's a sour sort of relationship—something you're intimately familiar with. “Can I ask what happened, or…?”

“I'll tell you later,” he replies evasively. “You know what else they got you training on today?”

“No idea,” you answer honestly. The nosy part of you wants to hear more about the Berzatto family, but the responsible part of you reminds you to cool your jets. “Carmy just told me I was on produce. Know where he's at? I peeked into his office, but he wasn't there.”

“Oh, he just left.” Your blank stare makes him elaborate. “He's off doing Carmy things.”

“Doing Carmy things?” Looks like the person in charge has abandoned you yet again.

“Business stuff, probably.” Marcus shrugs. “He does that sometimes. He probably won't be back for a while, so I can help you with training for now if you want.”

“That would be great.” There's a remark on the tip of your tongue about poor management, but you hold it. “Is Carmy a better boss, at least?”

“Compared to Michael?” You recognize sadness in Marcus’ pinched brows, even if it's only momentary. “I dunno. It hasn't been long, but this place has been running more smoothly since he started doing things.” Your shocked expression makes him laugh briefly. “I know, it used to be worse if you can believe it.”

“I'm not sure that I can,” you admit. 

. . . . .

The next several days at work continue to test your patience. While Carmy keeps you on prep, keeping your tasks simple, he continues to find ways to keep you on edge. You stiffen up every time he enters the kitchen, waiting for him to point out yet another mistake. 

Chef, this cut's too uneven. Chef, you're taking too much time on this. Chef, you should’ve cut this part off. Chef, you’re creating too much waste. 

Yes, Chef, you always reply, even as his comments become more and more grating. A childish part of you wants to do a worse job out of spite, but another part of you is hungry for his approval far more than you would ever admit. You wonder if he's this tough on everyone. 

The incident in the walk-in does not get mentioned again. A childish voice in you wonders if Carmy has forgotten about it. Of course he hasn’t, but every time he critiques you, you wonder about the Carmy who kissed you. You wonder what that Carmy's thinking, because you have no clue. 

Has he been thinking of you, too?

This is how things should be, you remind yourself after you touch yourself for the fourth night in a row to the thought of him. Your fingers are wet, and your wrist is embarrassingly sore. I can't have sex with my boss again. I just can't. 

Would it be different if he also touched himself to thoughts of you?

You desperately suck your own cum off your fingers, and you wish it were his fingers instead. It doesn't taste the same. 

The bright lights are irritatingly bright when you come in this morning. It looks like you're the first person here again, other than Carmy. You hear his irritated voice as soon as you enter, which is clearly a good sign. 

“I appreciate you thinking of me, I do. I do. It's just—” He sighs. Looks like he's having another phone call. “I can't come back. Not right now.” Silence. “No, uh, won't happen for a while, I think. The place's fucked.” A shaky breath. “What? What did you say?

“The head chef asked about me?” Carmy's voice has gone tight. “I see. Of course he said that. No, it's fine.” Pause. “...I know what they've been saying. I figured they'd look down on me.” His laugh is hollow and painful. “Look, I got shit to do. Thanks for asking me, but it's a no. I can't.” Another pause, drawn out and tense. “Sure. Bye.”

After he hangs up, you hear him muttering to himself. You can't pick out any of the words other than the curses, but it sounds bad. As you put your things away, you silently pray to the abstract idea of a god to give you both strength of patience. Seems like you'll need it today. 

“Morning,” you tentatively greet him when he sees you. He's not surprised by your presence today, it seems. He nods back. 

“Morning.” His eyebags are dark with a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, his whole everything screams sleep deprivation, perhaps a bit more so than usual. His messy hair seems particularly unkempt today. “You're doing prep again today.”

“I figured.” 

“You need to get better about cleaning your station.” His words are full to the brim with irritation. “I keep having to clean it after you.”

“I thought I was—” You stop. Calm down, you think, but it's getting harder and harder to repeat. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”

“I told you the other day that it was dirty. Were you even paying attention?”

“Of course I was!” Annoyance bubbles over inside of you, potent and unbridled. Carmy barely reacts to your raised voice. Somehow, that pisses you off more.  The cap on your contained anger has popped off, and there's no fitting it back on. “Are you always like this towards your employees?”

“Like what?”

“Like an asshole?” You're too irritated to hold yourself back. 

“Depends. Are you always like this with your boss?” He retorts immediately. 

“I don't usually have sex with my boss, so no, I suppose not,” you respond stupidly, and that makes him go dead silent. He narrows his eyes, fixes you with his gaze. Like you're a new problem that needs solving or something like that.

God damnit, you think to yourself. Why'd you have to say that?

“You've been thinking about it.” The air feels thicker, suddenly.

“I never said that.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Shit. “You said you were going to do better.”

“And I have been. I've been trying to do everything you've been telling me to do.” You don't know why you take a step towards him. “You said you were gonna be nicer.”

“And I have been,” he echoes, and his sincerity makes you roll your eyes. 

“Bullshit! You've been nit-picking me all week!”

“We have standards here, and you need to learn how to follow them. That's all.”

“You're right! I'm learning,” you argue, throwing exasperated hands up in the air. “Cut me some fucking slack!”

“Then learn. Improve.” He slams a hand down on the aluminum surface next to you, enclosing you partially in. Being this close to him, you can really see how dark his dark circles are. You could easily move to the side if you wanted to, but something in you stays put. “There's no excuse for a dirty workspace in a kitchen. I thought you would know that already.”

“I'm so fucking sorry, chef,” you spit back with about as much venom as you can muster. Which, right now, is a lot. 

That shifts something inside him. You see it flash across his face—surprise, anger, and then…something else.

“Dirty work station and a dirty mouth,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, quieter, and it sounds just like how it did in the walk-in. You hate how that change instantly makes your heart pick up speed. “You think you get a pass to act like this because of what happened in the walk-in?”

“You motherfucker,” you hiss, meeting his glare with your own. “So now you're going to acknowledge it? And for the record, I get to act however the fuck I want. Especially with someone like you.”

“Someone like me.” He doesn't ask you to elaborate. He just laughs, breathy and condescending, and he's so close you can feel his breath fan across your face. “You think you're above all this, don't you?”

“What?” The question takes you so off guard that it almost dissipates the strange mix of anger and arousal simmering in your gut. 

“I know it doesn't feel good to have to take orders from someone you hate, but here's the thing. You have to.” He's not smiling, but you swear he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction from all this. Why else would he be saying any of this shit?

“I could leave right now if I wanted to,” you threaten him. “You won't be able to find anyone else that wants to work in this shithole of a place.”

“You're right. You could leave if you really wanted to.” His eyes narrow curiously at you. “Then why haven't you?”

You’re well within your right to leave already—it checks all the boxes. Chaotic work environment. Awful management. General workplace misconduct. Unprofessionalism between coworkers. You suppose you're partially to blame for that last one, but still. 

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you told yourself. You're not sure why you're not listening to your own advice. The simple truth of the matter, though, is that other jobs won't have him. They won't have the man that's been keeping you up at night, the man that you want to simultaneously devour and destroy. They won't have Carmen Berzatto, and for some reason, that's all it's going to take.

You don't understand yourself. It scares you, but not enough. Not enough to leave.

“...I don't know why I haven't left yet,” you say quietly after a while. “I have no clue.”

“I see.” If he's dissatisfied with your answer, he doesn't show it. “Then for the time you're here, let's make one thing clear.”

“What is it now?” You sigh.

“I'm in charge here,” he whispers. His other hand is on the counter now. You're completely blocked in. “I'm the one who runs this place, so you're going to be good and listen to me when I speak.”

“You're not really giving me a lot of incentive, chef.” You lower your gaze to the counters next to you. “Maybe if you gave me something to work with.” You don't mean for it to come out as suggestive as it does, but with him surrounding you like this… 

“Incentive?” He brings a hand to your face, tucking his fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back to him. His touch is achingly gentle, but it forces it to look straight into his eyes. Your fidgety gaze catches glances of the dark blue speckles that border his pale iris. “Hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart's pounding like sprinting feet thudding on concrete. You can't place what feelings are excitement or anxiety or both, but maybe no separation exists. Shutting your eyes was a weak attempt to temporarily block him out, but now all you can focus on is the sensation of his rough hand on your hot face. 

Hesitantly, you open your eyes to face him. Ice blue and dark circles. His intense stare is difficult to match, but you try. 

“What do you want from me?” You ask quietly. 

“I want you to clean your station. Think you can do that?”

“Don't patronize me. Of course I can. I just—happened to forget.”

“Hm.” He smiles briefly. It's just a bit mocking. “You don't have a good track record so far, so you'll have to prove it to me.”

“...And how would I do that?”

“Depends,” he replies vaguely. “Depends on what you want.”

“What I want? I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”

“When I touched you, you told me you wanted to touch me.” The realization clicks in your head. “Do you still want that?”

You hesitate. Memories of the walk-in flood in. You remember the silhouette of his tight jeans over his bulge, and you ache. You shouldn't say yes. You really shouldn't. A distant voice says, you don't want to do this. What have you been telling yourself? This is a bad idea.

Unfortunately, it's far past a matter of want anymore. It's a matter of need.

“Yes,” you whisper back. Your fate is sealed. “I do.”

That's how you find yourself in the cramped bathroom with him. It's dark with one of the lightbulbs having gone out, making it feel even smaller. An eerie green cast coats the room. 

“You're going to show me that you can listen. That you can clean up after your messes.” He's leaned up against the wall, broad hands unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes shamelessly zero in on the motion. “Think you can do that much?”

“Of course I can,” you reply, but it comes out a lot softer than intended. 

“Good.” You force your eyes away from the outline of his bulge in his boxers to look at his face. His darkened eyes are trained on you. “Get on your knees.”

Oh, you think. So this is how it's gonna go.

You wish you could say that you hesitate even a little bit, that there’s even a shred of contemplation left in you. However, there isn't any of that remaining. Obediently, you fall to your knees, resting them against the cold, hard bathroom floor. You're at eye level with his unbuttoned jeans. Slowly, you raise your eyes to look at him. 

His downturned face is framed by wild strands of hair. Looking down at you casts darker shadows across his face, but not enough to hide his expression. It's an odd mix of hunger and what you think to be admiration. Surely not, but that's immediately the thought that comes to mind. 

“Waiting for directions, chef,” you murmur. 

“Mm. Right,” he says, like he was lost in thought. “You look better like this.”

“Watch it,” you warn him. “I could still bite your dick off.” To that, he just briefly smiles, and then it's gone.

He's pulled his black pants down just enough to let his clothed bulge hang over the waistband. The sight of it goes straight to the simmer starting in your gut. You watch his veined hand disappear into his boxers. He's doing this far too slowly for your taste. 

Finally, he pulls out his cock, nearly completely stiffened, and you can't deny the way you begin to salivate. 

You were right. It's big, though not just in length. His cock is thick. You immediately know you won't be able to take the full length of him into your mouth, but what fits is going to be a stretch. You're already imagining how those bulging veins are going to feel against the flat of your tongue. 

“Use your mouth for something other than talking back to me. Make me come,” Carmy orders quietly. “Enough direction for you?”

“Shut the hell up,” you mutter, ignoring the feeling of the growing heat inside you, and you pull the reddened, shiny tip of his cock between your lips. 

His pre-come mixes with the saliva on your tongue. You savor the taste of his salty musk, suckling slowly, and you hear him exhale shakily above you. Looks like you've been given something of an opportunity to get him back for the walk-in. Not repayment—payback. The distinction is important. 

When you pull back, thin strings of spit connect the pink head to your glistening lips. One of your hands moves to hold the base of his cock as you close the gap again. You drag your tongue down the side of his length, licking the thick vein you were eyeing earlier. You feel him twitch. 

“Do that again,” he breathes. Without question, your tongue retraces its path, running back over the line of spit it created. That gets you a quiet, strangled moan, and it's music to your ears. 

“Is this part sensitive?” You ask as you stroke the vein with your thumb. You suck your way down the vein again, making small, wet seals of pleasure. 

“Somewhat.” He sounds good like this, breathless and flustered. A smile twitches on your lips. You lick across the inside of your hand, wetting it before lazily curling it around his cock. He slides effortlessly in your grasp. 

“You gonna come already?” You can't help but tease. He's surprisingly reactive, more so than you would've thought. It's not that you're complaining—it's not that at all. The sound of his low groans is making you drip. 

“Hah—no. You'll have to work harder than that.” You feel a hand pushing back your hair, and that makes you raise your head towards him. His touch is surprisingly gentle. You watch the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue.”

You can't quite figure out what it is about all of this that makes you submit. Just moments ago, you wanted to wring your hands around his throat. It was far too easy to abandon your anger and kneel in front of him. Maybe it's the incomprehensibly part of you that undeniably needs his validation. Maybe it's the soft, low tone of his voice, gentle yet commanding. Either way, it has you obeying with a thought in your mind. 

You do as he says. You part your lips and extend your tongue. As your eyes flutter upwards towards him, you're struck with the impression that you must look obscene. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, and just the one word sends something of a euphoric rush through you. “Doin’ so good for me.” 

You soak up the praise, basking in the warmth of it. Then, Carmy spits onto your tongue, and his saliva slides towards the back of your mouth. 

You can't hide your surprise. Your breath hitches, but you don't say anything. Fuck, that should've made you angry, but it just made your clit throb painfully hard. 

He drags his thumb down your tongue, slow and sensual. You have half the mind to suck on it until he glides the head of his cock on your tongue, leading it into the heat of your mouth. 

“Ah—” You lose the words you were going to say, along with the empty space in your mouth. The tip of his cock's nearing the back of your throat. You breathe shakily through your nose. You were right again—you can't take him fully in. It's enough of a stretch as it is. 

“Fuck, that's it…” Carmy sighs. “Just like that…”

His hand holding your hair turns into a tighter grip as you begin sucking up and down his cock. It's an awful mess, the size of him forcing spit to drip down your chin. It's not just that, though. He's thrusting his cock back into your mouth quicker and quicker. You wish he would slow down so you could lean back and suck on his dribbling tip, but his hand has you anchored. 

Time slows as he starts fucking your mouth. Your hands fall to your hands. Your knees are starting to hurt. You care surprisingly little about that fact, instead opting to care about rubbing your clit as quickly as possible. When you get your hands under your underwear, you find your whole pussy already smeared in wetness. You've seeped through the fabric. 

When he pulls his cock out of your mouth (or rather, when he tugs you off), you think he's going to give you a new order. Or that he's going to say something. You don't realize what's really happening until it's too late. 

You watch him bring a hand to his cock. He strokes it twice, keeping his hand tight in your hair, and with a low groan, he comes.

With his hand on you, you can't move away. Not that you try. When the first glob of cum streaks your cheek, you freeze. All you can do is pause as he comes on your face. Even your hand under your pants has frozen, your palm pressed up tight against your pulsing clit. 

With each rope of cum across your face, you feel yourself throb. Carmy is a sight to behold as he comes, long-lashed eyes falling shut with his parted, gasping mouth. He's jaggedly fisting his cock as he just keeps coming. You feel the cum starting to drip down the slopes of your skin, even your lips. 

By the time he's come down, he's left your face an absolute mess. Your jaw feels heavy, and his cum is hot against your swollen lips. You've come down as well, and it's left you with the irate realization that he just came all over your face without asking.

“You could've at least told me you were gonna come on my face,” you snap. Your cheeks are burning. Your argument feels weak with how worked up you feel over watching and feeling him come, but the irritation is still very real. 

“Clean your station, chef,” he responds, infuriatingly smug even as he catches your breath. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Are you kidding me?” Of course. That's what this all was. A fucked up lesson, a twisted sort of discipline. 

“I'm not.” He uncurls his fist from your hair. “Stand up—your knees must hurt.”

You pause for a second before you shakily get back up on your legs. One minute he's messily fucking your mouth, and the other, he's worrying over your sore knees. He continues to become more and more confusing. 

“You're gonna make me clean up your mess.” You catch your face in the small, shitty rectangular mirror hanging on the wall. God, are you a filthy sight, cum and spit all over your face. 

“I had to clean up yours for the past week, so yeah.” He's zipped himself back up. He's clean, not a drop of anything on him. Unlike the mess parading itself on your face. At least there's not any in your hair. 

“This is not the same. This is—” You frustratedly search for the right words. He's remaining as stoic as ever. “You didn't even kiss me,” you blurt out, and as soon as you say it, you regret it. 

Carmy stills. You can't tell what he's thinking with his unmoving expression. You're sure he's about to insult you again, but then he’s leaning in and sealing his lips against yours. 

You're stunned. A small noise escapes you as he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. His tongue drags up a trail of cum and spit up your chin and back into your mouth. Or back into his. You're unsure, with the way they're all blending together. 

“There,” Carmy murmurs against your lips. When he pulls back, you see his tongue running across his lips, collecting the pearlescent sheen that was on them. 

“Um—” You start and immediately stop. You’re speechless. 

“Now clean up.” You hear the sound of distant company. Your other coworkers must be arriving now. “I expect improvement now, chef. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply bitterly. “I suppose I met your expectations, then?”

“Sure. Closely enough, anyway.” Potent aggravation hits you like a cast iron pan. He drags his thumb in one last infuriating line across your cheek. He sucks it into his mouth and cleans it off. “Don't take too long. I have a lot planned for you today.”

Without waiting for a response, Carmy leaves. He leaves you alone in the shitty bathroom with a now flickering lightbulb, left to clean his cum on your face with water, hand soap, and thin paper towels. You don't know if you've ever been so angry before. 

The anger doesn't make the arousal go away. You rub your needy clit to orgasm, your back pressed up against the wall like Carmy's just a moment ago.

As you come with Carmy's cum slowly trailing on your face, you wonder if there is any coming back from this. If there's anything left to be done to stop whatever's happening. You can't come up with any solutions or suggestions. Only one thing is undeniably clear:

You hate Carmen Berzatto, and you're already thinking of ways to get his cock in your mouth again soon. 

~

taglist: @zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @thehouseofevangelista @alastorssimp @talas-starlight @jmamas92

[harunayuuka2060]

Leona: Hey, Vil. Why do you look so annoyed?

Vil: That Floyd 2.0.

Vil: ...

Vil: WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?!

Leona: ...What happened? *turning to Epel*

Epel: Um... I can't say it. Vil will get mad even more.

Leona: ...

Leona: How bad was it?

Epel: Really bad.

Leona: ...

Leona: Okay. I'll just ask someone else.

Leona: *laughing after finding out what it was*

Leona: Whew- They really had the guts to say that to him?

Cater: Yes. And it was out of nowhere too.

Idia: But you know... I actually like them a little bit. They have a weird kind of humor. Not as extreme as Floyd, but totally unpredictable.

Leona: Yeah. Makes me want to avoid them.

Cater: I thought you find them funny?

Leona: Look. To be told something like that? No thank you.

*What happened between Vil and MC*

MC: *approaches Vil; smiling* Vil~.

Vil: *looks at them, frowning*

MC: Are you spraying perfume~?

Vil: Yes. Why? Do you want to borrow it?

MC: No~. The scent sticks like a fart, so I would rather not~.

Vil: ...

Vil: What did you just-

MC: *smiles at him then leaves*

Vil: ...

Vil: MC! WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT?!

[toxicanonymity]

Can I request a fic where Reader’s parents were recently killed and she has to look after her younger siblings. She needs to find a way to earn money so she is forced to become a prostitute/sex worker. Only thing is she is a virgin. And guess who takes her virginity as part of the job? (Joel!). Not sure how you can make it dark, but that’s up to you!

virgin sex worker

<1k words | joel x f!reader | masterlist

18+ virginity loss, unsafe PIV sex, bj, Joel talks you through the whole thing. Post-outbreak.

"Call me Joel," the john says.

"It's my first time," you tell him.

"No different from doin' it with a boyfriend," he reassures you as he unzips his pants.

"No, I've never. . . It's my first time, ever."

He looks stunned but not put off. "Why ya doin' this?"

"It's really none of your business, I'm not gonna justify myself to you."

"Why me then? Lotta men would pay top dollar for a virgin."

"You're a regular, right? The other girls said you'd be good for my first time. Nice and gentle?"

"Whew, that ain't me, baby," he laughs. "Must be their sick idea of hazing the new girl. . . Must want me to break ya in reeeal good."

Your face goes cold and your eyes prickle with tears.

"Don't worry baby, I can try my best . . . c’mere, let’s see what we’re workin’ with.” He pats the bed. “Bend over for me.” He takes off his jeans.

You bend over with your ass in the air. He lifts up your skirt and pulls down your panties. "Mmm now that's a nice lookin' pussy."

He strokes it but you aren’t wet. He puts his hands on your waist then asks “ok if I move ya'round and shit?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer.

He somewhat roughly throws you on your back. “Was that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“I’m gonna make it so it feels better for ya, k?” He takes your panties all the way off then puts his head between your legs. His tongue on your clit turns you on right away. He kisses, licks, and sucks at your pussy, always returning to your clit. You moan in pleasure, then he sticks a finger in.

“Good girl, now we’re in business.” He slowly pumps that one finger as he keeps pleasuring you with his mouth. Then he sticks another finger in. He grunts in satisfaction as he pulls his mouth away, and looks up at you from between your thighs. “Nobody ever been in here?”

“No, only toys.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Well good, that means you prolly won’t bleed too much.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, then curls them. It’s quite a stretch, but still pleasant. After awhile, Joel sits up and gives you a little smile, thumbing your clit one last time as his fingers slide out.

“Alright, we’re warmed up, ready to go,” Joel says while palming himself over his boxers. “You wanna give it a kiss first, get to know it?”

You sit up, then bend over again so your head is at dick-level with him standing next to the old, dirty bed. His hard cock intimidates you but also sends a pang of arousal between your legs. You wrap your hand around it and he sighs. You put your lips around the head and he says “Yeah, attagirl.” When you begin to suck, he gives a low whistle. “Damn, you suck a good cock.”

You’ve done your research.

“Alright now.” You take your head off his cock and wait for his instructions. He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard. “How bout ya just come on up here.” He pats his lap. “Take it how you want it, and I’ll try not to interfere.”

You slowly straddle him and hover over his cock. He holds it for you in one hand and watches you hungrily. He fingers you again with his free hand, then urges you closer, pulling you by your ass. He aligns his tip at your entrance, then you slowly sink onto it. In a way, it feels amazing, but It’s a major stretch and also hurts. You wince. He breathes heavily, trying to control himself.

“Ok if I help?” he asks and you nod. His hands come to your hips and gently press down. You gasp and your face screws up.

“Sometimes ya gotta rip the bandaid off. want me to do that for ya, baby?”

You’re nervous but you don’t think you can go any further without more help.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Attagirl,” he says. His large hands pull you down hard on his cock and he grunts loudly. You gasp at the intrusion. It feels like he’s inhabiting most of your body. He thrusts up into you and you gasp again. It hurts, but not in a very bad way.

Then, he sits more upright and puts you on your back. He pulls out most of the way, then slams his cock into you and you both grunt as the force pushes you down the bed. He begins to really fuck you. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says and you nod. His face darkens, then he pounds into you repeatedly. It hurts, but not bad enough to say it. The feeling of being filled by him outweighs the pain.

After a few minutes, he says he’s about to come. “Wanna see how it tastes?”

“Yeah,” you say as he pulls out. He straddles you and walks on his knees up to your armpits, leans forward, and you lift your neck to accept him into your mouth. Then he groans and pulses into your mouth.

It's salty and a little tart.

"Good girl," Joel whispers as you take the last of his load. He gets dressed while you freshen up. He's sitting on the bed in his jeans when you come out.

"You're still here?" You ask.

"Yeah, you good?"

You nod.

"Can I give ya'a hug?"

You hug goodbye and the taste lingers in your mouth all day.

-

------

This was a quick one from the ask cellar. Ty for reading!

-

[mrs-padalecki2341]

Hey um. This is my first time doing an ask but can u maybe please write an enemy to lovers

Sam and reader (reader is assumed to be vamp or wolf or something else but is innocent and 100% human)

Misunderstanding

(Sam x Reader)

I tried my best to fit the prompt, so I hope I did okay and that you like it! Enjoy!

Warnings/Promises: Gunshot wound, canon level violence, smut, screaming kink, unprotected sex/ creampie (wrap it before you tap it), slight praise, kind of like an enemies to lovers thing, I think that’s it but lmk if I missed something.

~~~

You were on a case, hunting what seemed to be a werewolf. After three days and no luck, you decided to take a break and hit the local bar. Now, you were on your way back to the motel, when someone screamed help from an allyway.

You turned the corner to see the werewolf running off and a man lying dead on the ground.

You walked over and crouched beside him to check for a heart, and sure enough, it was missing.

You sighed and wiped the blood that got on you on your pants. You were about to go call the cops about the body when someone called out behind you.

"Hey!"

You turned and saw two guys at the other end of the ally right as one of them shot a silver bullet into your shoulder, just missing your chest and heart.

You stumbled and collapsed against the wall, grabbing your shoulder with one hand and reaching for your gun with the other.

"What the fuck?!? Who the fuck are you!?!?" You called out to the guys.

"Shit. She's not a wolf..." The taller one said as they both ran up to you.

"Wolf? As in "Werewolf"?" You asked, still leaning against the wall, a slight strain to your voice from the pain.

How did they know about werewolves?

"Yeah. We're looking for a werewolf..." The shorter one says.

"Wait, so you're hunters?" You asked, confused.

"Yeah, I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. So, are you a hunter too then?" The tall one replied.

"Y-yeah... Did you say Winchester? As in *the* Winchesters?" Your eyes went big.

"Uh, heh, yeah. That's us." Sam chuckled as you stumbled a bit. "Oh, yeah, sorry about shooting you... Here, let me see..." He moved your hand away from the wound and examined it. "Whew, yeah, you're gonna need stitches for that. We can take you back to our bunker and fix you up there if you want."

He reached his hand out to help you stand up from on the wall.

"Thank you." You murmured, accepting his hand. "I'm Y/n, by the way. Y/n Y/l/n."

They helped you back to their 67' Chevy Impala and drove you to the bunker.

Once you got there and they stitched and patched you up, you leaned back in your chair. You glanced at the room around you, which was a library with shelves filled with countless books on legends and lore.

"Y'all have a nice place." You sighed and relaxed your body.

"Thanks." Sam smiled and sat down beside you, turning on the little lamp in the center of the table.

Dean came walking into the room with three beers in hand.

"Want one?" He asked and looked at you. When you gave him a nod he tossed it to you, then tossed another to Sam, before sitting down across from you and opening his own.

You cracked open the bottle and took a nice sip, then sat it back down, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the men before you.

The three of you had sat there and talked for a while and drank a few beers, when Dean stretched.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night. See y'all later." Dean said though a yawn as he gathered all the empty beer bottles the three of you had accumulated.

"Kay, g'night Dean." Sam called to his brother.

"Night, Sammy." Dean called back as he walked off to go to his room for the night.

Once Dean was out of earshot, Sam turned to you, a slight smile forming across his face.

"Y'know, I've been thinking, this whole time while we've been sitting here, about how pretty you are." He said, his smile growing.

"Really?" Your face flushed.

"Yeah. And I do kind of have some making up with you to do after I shot you and all..." His face flushed as well. You could tell he was a bit nervous.

Taking the hint that he was trying to flirt, you leaned forward.

"How about you do some making *out* with me instead, and we'll call it even?~" You smirked, making him blush harder.

"Deal." He whispered, smirking back, before scooting closer to connect lips with you.

When his mouth reached yours, you couldn't help but let out a little squeal of excitement, a thin layer of sweat forming on both of your bodies. You scooted out of your chair and into his lap, wrapping your thighs around him. He groaned around your lips as you deepened the kiss, your tongue twirling around his.

"We should probably go somewhere more private." He said, breaking the kiss.

You nodded in agreement, and he grabbed onto your thighs, picking you up as he stood from the chair. You twirled his thick hair around your fingers and nipped at his neck as he carried you back to his room.

The door opened and shut with a creak and left you and Sam alone in the privacy of his bedroom to do as you pleased. You were shaking with excitement and lust as he laid down on the bed with you. You wasted no time finding each other's lips again and you both let out tiny groans of enjoyment as you kissed enthusiastically.

"Take off your clothes." He commanded in a deep and rough tone.

You did as you were told and stripped off your clothing, starting with your blood-stained shirt, until all that was left on you was the patch over your wound.

"You're even prettier than I'd thought you would be." He gawked as he removed his own clothing.

Your eyes went wide at the sight of him. How the hell were you going to take all of that??? He noticed the way you were staring and chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle at first until you get used to me."

You nodded and then pulled him back down on the bed and kissed him. It was like he was a drug or something. You just couldn't get enough. Every second that your lips were away from his felt like an eternity-long withdraw.

He moved his hand to his cock to line it up with your soaking wet cunt.

"May I?" He asked, waiting for you to consent to him entering you.

"Please..." You moaned, needing him inside you like a fish needs water.

He slowly pushed his tip in, causing you to let out a loud, uncontrollable moan.

"Do you need me to stop?" He says, worried he hurt you.

"No, please, God no, don't stop." You begged through a moan.

"Okay, let me know if you do need me to stop though, okay?" He said as he pushed in deeper.

"Okay." You said while you moaned and mewled in pleasure as he pushed himself deeper inside of you. You could feel every last bit of him as he eased into your throbbing core.

"Tell me when you're ready for me to move." He said as he bottomed out, his hips against yours.

"Okay, you can move." You said with a deep breath.

He pulled out slowly, until just his tip was inside of you, then he pushed back in, then out, then in, then out, then in.

"Mmm, fuck Sammy, you're gonna kill me. Faster." You whined.

He sped up his movement just slightly, making a subtle difference.

"Mm, no, *faster*. If you don't hurry up and fuck me right, I might explode." You exclaimed, desperation clear in your tone.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied jokingly, pulling his hips away and then pushing back in at a finally decent pace.

"Ahhh, that's more like it." You sighed, moving your hips to meet his with each thrust.

"Yeah... Damn, you feel amazing." He praised, groaning in pleasure.

"Fuck!" You yelped out as he hit your g-spot, sending an extra strong jab of pleasure through your core. "Mm, fuck, right there..." You spread your legs further to give him more room to move inside you.

At this, he sped up, pushing harder into your g-spot with each thrust into you until you were practically screaming.

"Ah, shit, you sound perfect. Keep screaming, baby." He groaned, moving his hands to your hips and pushing even harder to make you scream louder.

"F...f... fu... mm... FUCK, SAMMY. MMMN~" You yelled out as you squeezed around his cock and came so hard your vision went fuzzy.

He kept moving in and out of you, until his rhythm faltered, and his pace sped up for the final pushes into you until he came inside you, digging his fingers into your sides hard enough to leave marks.

"Wow." Was all he could manage to say as he exhaled heavily and rolled over onto his back beside you.

"I agree. Wow." You sighed, still euphoric and half blind with pleasure.

You huffed out with a soft "hmmm~" and scooted in closer to Sam's giant figure that lay next to you on the bed.

"You're good at that." You spoke softly after a moment.

He just smiled in response and chuckled as he laid there with you in his arms.

You were both already about to pass out, when there was a thump at the door.

"Y'all okay in there? I woke up to Y/n screaming." Dean's tired voice could be heard from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, we're good." Sam called and you both let out a little laugh.

"Ohh... alright then." Dean replied as it clicked in his head what types of screams they were. "Well, I'm going back to sleep then. Try to keep it down."

"We won't!" You called to him, fully intending on screaming at the top of your lungs next round.

Sam just laughed, gently kneading one of your breasts in his hand.

"So, I guess that means this is a more than one round type of thing then?"He suggested, smiling at you coyly.

"Mmhmm. I hope you didn't plan on sleeping tonight~" You purred, pulling him back up against you.

"Oh, I don't plan on sleeping for a week if you're gonna keep this up the whole time~" He groaned back, snatching you by the hair into an aggressive kiss before climbing on top of you for round two.

-SP<3

[treason-and-plot]

The bad weather and the cancellation of Raj’s whale watching tours has impacted the Whale Museum as well. The only visitors since 8.30 am have been a group of elderly tourists from Shang Simla, and they didn’t even buy any souvenirs! Then Kaleb barges through the door.

“Hi,” says Mia, looking him up and down. He is dressed for the gym, and his hair and his skin are wet. He is panting slightly.

“Whew, it’s really coming down out there,” he says, unnecessarily. He smiles at Nanette who is sitting behind the reception desk browsing Parisian places of interest on the internet. She glances up and gives him a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Hey Mrs N!” he says. “How’s everything? Keeping dry?”

“Yes thank you Kaleb,” says Nanette. “Did you leave your umbrella at home?’

“The rain doesn’t bother me,” he says. “I was already hot and sweaty from the gym so being in the rain felt kind of nice.”

“Why do have to say things like that?" says Mia.

“What things?”

“That you’re all hot and sweaty. You know what that does to me.”

“Mia!” he says, with a small laugh as he glances at Nanette, who frowns at her computer screen. “Don’t talk like that in front of your mother.”

“I’m used to it,” scoffs Nanette.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” says Mia.

“I just thought I’d pop in on my way home from the gym and say hello to my favourite girls,” he says. Nanette exchanges a pointed glance with Mia. “I also wanted to ask Mia if she wanted to see a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” says Mia. “I think…I’m supposed to be having dinner at Jackie’s. I’ll have to let you know.”

“Not a problem,” says Kaleb. “Alright then, I’d better be heading home. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

He turns to go and then Mia grabs his arm.

“Actually, we have a problem with the sink in the ladies’ bathroom,” she says, flickering her eyelashes at him. “Would you be able to have a look?”

“Um, okay,” he says. “Sure.”

(uncensored pics can be found on my blogger...as usual don't click if under 18, or at work, or if offended by nude pixels)

[still-not-over-transformers]

Hi frieeeend! Glad to be one of ur first requests ^^

I was wondering if you could do some TFP Ratchet x female reader 🫣 some smut OR some angsty fluff where Ratchet feels insecure about his age and vitality and y/n (suggestively his s/o) comforts him :)) whatever u choose

Take ur time! ❤️

Whew, never have I ever written so much so quickly (in a good way). I guess I got carried away a bit. Hope you like it :3

*Anything in italics is either a sound effect or a character’s inner thoughts*

Young At Spark

TFP Ratchet x Reader

Warnings: Suggestive

Word Count: 2000+ (Holy Sh*t)

It had been a relatively quiet day in the Autobot base for you. Jack, Miko, and Raph were at school taking their final exams, and the autobots were out on an extensive energon scouting mission somewhere in the rural wilderness of Serbia. You would’ve found a trip to Europe to be a fun outing, but couldn’t bear the thought of leaving your favorite medic alone. As you returned from a brief walk around the halls of the base, a loud *clang* followed by a frustrated and exasperated shout could be heard from the main room. He sounds actually pissed off, you thought to yourself before briskly making your way to the main room. You turned to see Ratchet picking up various shattered metal pieces from the floor, all the while muttering incoherent profanities and curses. 

“Ratchet? Is everything okay?” you asked softly, although the concern was easy to glean from your tone. The medic was clearly surprised by your sudden appearance and seemed a bit startled as his blue optics locked onto you. “Oh, (Y/N)... E-everything is fine. I just… was clumsy and dropped the device I was trying to adjust. I um, I’m sorry if I may have startled you.” In fact, everything was indeed not fine with Ratchet, as that morning his thoughts had gotten away from him and locked onto you, and not in the way he usually enjoys.

I can’t upset (Y/N) with my frivolous doubts. Albeit it will be difficult as her mental prowess is always… rather intuitive, the aging medic tried to silence his thoughts and re-focused on (Y/N). Ratchet cleared his throat as he noticed you had already conjured up a broom, “No need for that, I shall clean up my own mess.” You paused at the increasingly odd behavior of the normally composed medic, and you began to grow suspicious of why he seemed to be hiding something from you. 

You two had been close for some time, albeit when you first met the resident Autobot medic it wasn’t a great first meeting. With Ratchet insisting the base was getting far too crowded. You quickly won him over though. Unlike the kids, you were far more mature and patient, and you didn’t actively break his tools or go off placing yourself in unnecessary danger, like a certain someone with pink puffball hair… Another admirable quality you possessed was your sharp mind, and your ability to quickly grasp new concepts and actually be interested in things like science.

The first time Ratchet really noticed you was when he was struggling to decipher an unfamiliar set of code which had come into their possession regarding imperative intel. Despite applying the standard techniques to decipher the code, there was some sort of new trick that had been embedded in the code. As (Y/N) had watched the medic continuously failed to succeed, you had been watching closely, and had noticed the answer didn’t lie in breaking the code through conventional means, rather through a visual pattern. Your sharp eye and wit had spotted a pattern of certain colors and symbols, and after explaining this to Ratchet, the two of you were able to team up and crack the code. 

“Ratchet… What’s actually going on? You seem upset at more than accidentally breaking something. You know you can tell me anything, right?” You looked up at him, hoping the medic would let you help him. Primus, she’s onto me, Ratchet quickly finished picking up the broken mess on the floor, before turning towards (Y/N). “I appreciate your concern for me, I do, but I insist it was just a fleeting moment of frustration. Nothing more.” Before you could open your mouth to say anything else, the comms system flashed and Optimus Prime’s voice sounded over the audio “Ratchet, we require your presence immediately. We are taking Decepticon-fire and Arcee is down!”

His azure optics widened in surprise before turning to you. “I’ll man the groundbridge. …Be careful, otherwise I may throw a wrench at you” you had an ever-so-slight smile on your face, but your heart was still heavy as no one could ever foresee when things would go wrong. “I promise to return unharmed” Ratchet said softly, hoping that you wouldn’t fret too much over him, before powering up the groundbridge and speeding through in his alt-mode. 

As Ratchet sped through the swirling vortex of green and blue energy, his thoughts from earlier resurfaced. He had been replaying the moment you had first met, the first time you had touched servos/hands, the moments where he would place you on his shoulder as you both reviewed data and worked on projects.

The memory that was the source of his inner turmoil was the first time you kissed. You had shifted your weight on his shoulder and just planted one right on his lips. He could remember the rush of heat to his entire frame, something he had not experienced since his youth back on Cybertron, and that was a very long time ago. It wasn’t long after that you two had been intimate with one another, albeit it took a lot of learning on his part since you were both an organic and far smaller than him. The size difference didn’t bother him much, as he was very VERY creative. You were so vigorous, energetic, passionate, and youthful…. And youth had long since surpassed Ratchet.

 He should be above silly things such as anxiety or doubt, but now he felt all of his confidence melt away as the thought of such a stunning and lively being as yourself, being held back by an old rust bucket with one pede in the well of Allsparks. The very idea of him disappointing you felt equivalent to losing a patient. Spark-crushing. Perhaps it was wrong of him to think some old bot like him could ever give you what you truly deserved from a partner. …*PEW PEW* The resounding ringing of blaster fire pulled the medic out of his anxious self-pitying stupor, and into a battlefield before him.

Ratchet had only just exited the groundbridge, but he could already make out his fellow Autobots as they duked it out with various Decepticons and Vehicons. He had to focus, as he was here as a medic not a sniveling idiot. As his optics scanned the field for the injured Arcee, he saw the femme leaning against a large boulder, pinned down as she took cover from Vehicon blaster-fire. 

His white and scarlet armor glinted in the light of the sun, as he quickly made his way through the battlefield, being trailed by Optimus and Bumblebee as they provided coverfire. Ratchet was able to make it to Arcee, quickly scanning her to assess her injuries. “I’m fine, Doc. Just a few scratches that’s all,” the two-wheeler calmly stated. “Ep-ep! I’m the medic and I will be the one to diagnose y–” Ratchet was interrupted by the sound of crackling electricity from behind. “Nice of you to join the party, Ratchet!” Ugh, not Knockout of all bots… Ratchet thought, as he saw the ever-polished and buffed Decepticon standing a short distance from him. “Knockout, I am in no mood to deal with your incessant posturing…” Ratchet drew his blasters as he glared at Knockout. “Well they do say bots get crankier as they age, huh? Perhaps you’re better suited as a doorstop at your age?” the Decepticon medic cackled. 

Ratchet felt his energon boil and before anyone could realize, he charged at Knockout, optics wide with fury, “You’ll look like a doorstop once I’m through with you!!!” Knockout was taken aback by the sudden vigor and frenzied rage from the Autobot medic, genuinely shocked as to what had gotten into him. “PRIMUS I didn’t know you could move that fast!” Knockout ordered the surrounding Vehicons to begin firing at Ratchet, but was interrupted by opposing fire from Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. Before Ratchet could reach him, Knockout quickly transformed and retreated along with the remaining Vehicons. 

Ratchet had no choice but to stop his charge, but his rage was not so easily quelled. He was boiling over with anger, HOW DARE HE INSULT ME LIKE THAT? HOW DARE HE ASSUME– Ratchet’s angry thoughts were cut short by the sensation of a large servo on his shoulder, and Optimus’s voice. “Old friend, what has gotten into you? Why would you abandon your patient and charge after Knockout?” Prime’s face was full of concern for his long-time friend and confidant as this was out of character. The medic’s rage began to subside, as he realized what a fool he had made of himself. “M-my apologies Optimus, I don’t know what came over me.” Ratchet immediately went back over to Arcee and helped her onto her pedes, ashamed at his actions. 

Back at base, (Y/N) powered up the groundbridge after receiving the call from Optimus. You were still worried about Ratchet, as you had been struggling to think of what on earth he was so upset about. As the portal opened, the Autobots began to make their way through, including Ratchet who was assisting an annoyed Arcee into the base.

As you began to acknowledge everyone’s return, Bulkhead suddenly approached Ratchet, “What the scrap was that about?!” Ratchet’s optics briefly darted towards the wrecker, but as in usual fashion, the medic turned away and scoffed at the question, “Think nothing of it. Just stress from being engaged in combat.” Despite being assisted by Ratchet, Arcee piped in with her concerns “Bulkhead has a point, Ratchet. You lost it at whatever Knockout said to you. What gives?”

Growing increasingly frustrated with the sudden interrogation, Ratchet snaps his helm around “I’ve already told you that it was inconsequential. Now let me proceed with scanning you for injuries and move on!” The tension in the room could’ve been cut with a knife as the rest of the group falls silent, and no one presses the matter further. Standing at the controls, you were taken aback by Ratchet’s behavior, as this was severely out of character for your normally patient, if a bit sassy-medic. But you remained silent as you watched Arcee begrudgingly allow Ratchet to assess her. 

It wasn’t long before Arcee returned to the main area of the base, being cleared of any injuries by Ratchet, but you noticied that he had yet to reappear. Normally the only other area on base you could find Ratchet would be in one of the back storerooms which usually housed various supplies. You quietly made your way through the halls, the faint sound of something falling making you hone in on one particular room. The motion-sensors on the door allowed you entry into the storeroom, and you quickly spotted Ratchet with his back turned against one of the shelves. It felt as if you were walking on glass as you approached him, “...Ratchet? You’re really starting to worry me. Can you please, please… tell me what is wrong?” 

“...I’m sorry, (Y/N) for worrying you. That is the last thing I would want to do to you” Ratchet replied, but his back remained turned away from you. You approached him and closed the door behind you. Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around his heel in a hug, hoping your touch would comfort him “I know. But Ratchet…. You are hurting yourself by holding in.. whatever it is that’s making you act this way. We’ve been through too much for you to shut yourself off from me.” A heavy sigh escaped from the medic’s vents and he shifted his frame to look at you.

As you briefly stepped back, he knelt down to move his faceplate closer to your level, “You deserve to know of course… You deserve better. …Perhaps if I was in a different field of medical training, I would be better suited to explain myself, so I shall try my best.” He took a deep breath, clearly struggling “I’ve been concerned that I may not be the mech best suited for you.” 

You stood before him frozen as you struggle to process his words, “...Come again?” Ratchet felt as if someone were twisting a blade in his gut, but continued, “I meant that you deserve the best. You are so kind and full of life and vigor, and I am perhaps too old to provide you with what a younger mech could.” He can’t bear to meet your gaze any longer, and turns his face away from you in shame. He is shocked to feel a brief sting on his helm, looking back to see you holding a small wrench in your hands. “Hopefully that will knock some sense back into you” your eyes were welling-up with tears as you dropped the wrench.

“You really think your age would change how I feel for you? You think I would care what anyone, bot or con or human has to say about it?” You approach Ratchet and gently place your hands on his cheeks, staring deeply into his optics, “Ratchet, you are the only man for me. So what if you’re mature and full of experience? You’re my one and only and don’t ever think otherwise.” You lean in and plant a deep and sweet kiss against his cool lips. 

It felt like time stood still as he looked at your beautiful face. Your warm lips were like fireworks as you pressed them to his, How can she be this perfect? How do I deserve her? Ratchet’s mind swirled as you pulled away from him, feeling a gentle brush as he swiped a tear from your eye with a servo, “(Y/N), please forgive me for putting you through such torment. I… I was insecure about many things. I still wonder if I am truly capable of fulfilling all of your needs.”

You stepped forward and kissed him again, albeit with a little more heat. You raised an eyebrow as you pulled away, a devilish grin playing on your lips, “You have always fulfilled my every need. You could always test how well you’re able to please me…?” The look in your eyes and tone in your voice was easy for the medic to decipher. He felt his frame heat up and his engine rev, “...I suppose I can run a few… tests to see the results.” He gave you a half-cocked smirk before gently scooping you into his servo and setting you on one of the upper shelves, before showering your neck and collarbone in sensual kisses. 

Primus, hopefully no unlucky soul needed any supplies from that room…

[syntax6]

Whew

We've finished watching "The X-Files" and I'm ranking all the episodes just for fun. My husband asked about my top few and I was explaining how hard it can be to stack rank, especially comedic versus serious episodes. I said "Bad Blood" is epic and hilarious but if you don't know the serious stuff it's poking fun at, you won't get all the jokes. He was like, "Which one is that?"

Me: The vampire one? Rashoman-style? It's widely regarded as one of the best episodes of the series.

Him, shrugging: I didn't really like it.

Me: Um, okay...

*goes upstairs, contemplates divorce*

Husband, looking up episodes on Wikipedia, calls out a correction: Oh! I meant "3" is the terrible vampire one that I didn't care for. "Bad Blood" is great!

So I can stay married now.

[stone-stars]

this, to me, is one of the most insane called shots in history (audio is a bunch of separate clips from the same round of combat, with the last two being on the same turn)

Transcript:

[Dice rolling] Emily: I’m gonna crit on my turn [Caldwell starts cackling in the background] Jake: I’m so sad I haven’t crit. Caldwell: I would just love to hit this... specter. Emily: I’m pretty sure I’m gonna crit on my turn. Caldwell: Okay, well, I’ll try my best to crit but if you can crit afterwords that’d be awesome. Emily: Yeah. If you don’t— how 'bout if you don’t I will. Caldwell: Okay, that seems good. Blood pact. [Rolls dice] Uh, 18! Plus 11 is what? 29? Murph: Uh, super hits! Murph: Moonshine that is back up to your turn. Emily: Okay, um, I think my best chance to do damage here— Jake: Well you said you were gonna crit, right? Emily: —is to just crit while I— Caldwell: Okay. Emily: —so I’m gonna bonus action guardian of nature, using my Thinking Cap so that it’s concentrating— Murph: Great. Emily: And then I’m going to attack— [yelling] I CRIT!! [Everyone starts yelling, laughing, and clapping.] Emily: That is fucking insane!!! Caldwell: What the fuck!!!! Jake: Honestly? I don’t know why we’re surprised. Murph: Jesus christ! Caldwell, laughing: Come on. Come on. Emily: I was saying it as like a total joke!! Whew!! And because I have Great Weapon Master— okay— Caldwell: Fuck! Moonshine just Babe Ruthed over here! I love it! Jake: Wow! Called the shot! Emily: So remind me because I have Great Weapon Master, I actually get to attack again. I get to do a bonus attack. [Caldwell cackles.] Murph: Holy shit. Emily: So let me just roll my damage. Murph: My god. Emily: Paw Paw just crit!! [laughs] [Caldwell laughs and claps.] Murph: You love to see it Caldwell: Unreal. Emily: Oh, Paw Paw, you gotta defend her! Caldwell: Thank you Dice Christ. Emily: We’re just that linked up! Paw Paw: REEER! Emily: Me and Paw Paw are that linked up!

[linos-luna]

Hey if your still taking requests can I get a clingy dependent yandere Felix who literally can’t function without fem reader there with him and it gets to the point where she starts avoiding him and trying to stay away from him and the others. HOWEVER the other members feel bad for felix and try (and seceded) in manipulating/forcing the reader to going back to him.

Whew sorry that was so long😅

Yes I’m still taking requests! ☺️

Oooo that sounds cool….

Sorry the fic is long. I got carried away. Hope you like.

———————————————————————

You’re too much 🔪

Yandere!Felix x fem!Reader

Warnings: obsessive behavior, yandere, manipulation, 18+, drugs, stalking, manipulation, suggestion

———————————————————————

“Felix please stop. You’re freaking me out!”

“Noona! I just wanted get lunch with you!” The boy pouts.

“You followed me home!” You replied, referencing the night before. And again here he is, finding you at the local coffee shop.

You were friends with Felix. No actually, maybe a little more. You had started “dating” him a few months ago. He was very sweet and loving but eventually got obsessive and would follow you everywhere. It became suffocating and you broke off the relationship, opting to be friends. But this devastated him and for the past two months has been stalking you.

You hated to admit that you still held feelings for him. You had a soft spot and wanted to be with him but not when he’s like this. Secretly you wanted him back too, but you just can’t do it so you avoid him as much as you can.

“Noona… I want to take you out again. I promise I’ll be better!” He was practically begging while grabbing onto your hands.

“Felix… you’re too clingy. I’m sorry.” You sighed and let go of his hands and turning to leave. But before you could, you were pulled by the back of your shirt.

“Noona, please don’t leave!”

“Let go!” You said in a shaky voice.

“Felix, let go of her…” a familiar Australian voice said while pulling the boy off of you.

“Chan, why are you here…?” You asked, a bit suspicious of his sudden appearance.

“Felix invited me for lunch. I didn’t know this was why…”

You nodded and left, waving goodbye why felix was tearing up.

“Why’d you let her get away?!” He yelled at the older boy.

“Felix this is getting scary. Are you okay?” His friend asked as they walked out to the car. Once in the car, the boy started sobbing.

“I want her back!” Felix cried with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Hyung, I want her back!!”

Chan was concerned but also felt bad. These past two months he’s been a wreck.

“Okay…” he sighed. “I’ll help you get her back…”

Felix looked at Chan very surprised. “R-really…? “

“Yeah… I’ll get the others to help too…”

Felix was giddy at the idea while Chan tried coming up with a plan.

~~~

Three weeks have passed since you last saw felix and you started to wonder if his friends got him to move on. You were feeling more comfortable, that’s for sure.

You were out getting some quick stuff from the grocery store when running into Hyunjin. He’s a mutual friend of you and Felix but you d been avoiding some of his friends to be less awkward.

“Hi, y/n!” He said while smiling and waving. “I haven’t seen you in a bit.”

You nervously said hi back and he was quick to want to chat.

“How’ve you been, noona? Everything okay?”

“Um… yeah. Everything is good.” You nodded with a small smile. “How about you?”

“I’m alright, just planning on going out with the boys later.” He said happily, about to grab your shoulder.

“Oh ok! Bye Hyunjin” You averted quickly and fast walked out of there. You got an unsettling vibe from him. Hyunjin on the other hand watched and followed to see where you were going, taking note of something.

A few days later you went out with a friend, having a small picnic in the park.

As your friend left for the day you were heading towards your car when you were stopped by a familiar face.

“Chris?”

“Hey y/n!” The Australian had a big smile and ran right up to you. “Haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Um… hi?”

“Hey, me and some friends are hanging out tonight at my place. Wanna come?”

“Uh… I don’t know… Felix probably-…”

“Oh, he’s over it.” Chan said, cutting you off. “Like really, we got him some help.”

“Oh um… are you-”

“-sure? Yes I am.” Chan interrupted again. “Come on over. We’re just playing some games and a movie.

You thought about it for a moment, wondering if Felix really has gotten over you. You did wish to be friends with them all again. “Uhm sure.”

“Great!” Chan replied. “We’ll see you at 7!”

“Okay…” you were hesitant but got in your car to get home and get ready.

You put on some comfortable clothes and went to get some snacks from the convenience store where you found Jeongin and Seungmin.

“Oh hi guys. Are you going to the hang out too?”

“Yeah! So happy you could make it, noona!” He exclaimed while seungmin nodded.

“Yeah it’ll be fun.” You replied, wondering why Jeongin was so giddy

~

You later met at Chan’s place. He welcomed you in and you saw all the boys there, including Felix who was snacking on some chips.

“Hi noona.” Han said going up to you with a soda. He looked at Felix then back to you. “You can talk to him, you know?”

“Oh um… I’ll just say hi.” You said as you awkwardly made your way to the couch.

“Hi, Felix…”

“Hi, noona.” He smiles with a small wave. “Are you okay?”

“Uh… yeah I’m fine.” You smile back and go to the kitchen to drop off the snacks you brought. You turned around and nearly jumped; Felix was right behind you. He was holding a plate of brownies he must’ve made.

“Oh sorry noona.” He chuckled nervously. “I just wanted to know if you wanted a brownie.”

“Oh… sure…” you replied nervously, grabbing one and making your way back to the living room area and sitting on the couch. You took a bite of the brownie, remembered how good his treats are.

“So what kind of games are we playing.” You asked curiously.

“Oh it’s this game I got the other day…” Han’s voice was drifting away as your vision got a little fuzzy. Before you could question it, you heard a door opening somewhere behind you.

“Hey y/n. Didn’t know you were already here.” It was Minho, coming out from the bathroom.

“Hi Minho. I actually just-…” you got up to greet him but suddenly got very dizzy. You figured it was from getting up to fast so you sat back down.

Felix sat next to you as Han and Changbin started the game. Some type of fighting game, you couldn’t tell.

The other’s surrounded Han and Changbin, cheering on whoever they want to win.

You blinked a few times to focus your vision, looking at the brownie in front of you, holding it up to take a look at it.

“You didn’t finish it.” Felix said with a frown, looking to Chan. “Did you not like it?”

“No it’s good… I’m just not sure I can finish it-“

Suddenly you felt a hand grab yours with the brownie and shoving it in your mouth. You nearly choked on it but eventually was able to chew and swallow it.

It was Chan, standing at the couch behind you. He then started rubbing your shoulders.

“W-why-…? Why-…” you couldn’t even get out what you wanted to say as you getting even more dizzy and disoriented from whatever was in those brownies. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Don’t you miss having your boyfriend around?” Chan said while messaging your shoulders from behind. “Having Felix around?”

“…… y-yeah… I do…” you replied, your words practically slurred.

“You miss Felix don’t you…” he continued as Felix inched his way to your hand, laying his hand on your lap.

“Mmmmhm….” You groaned. “I-I miss him…”

Hyunjin joined in, sitting next you while turning your head towards Felix. You couldn’t really move. You felt like your muscles gave out and you barely had any control of your body.

“He misses you too. Your baby misses you.” Hyunjin said, getting close to your ear.

You were looking at Felix but could barely make out any features. “Baby… misses me…” your words were so slurred that that it was getting hard to understand.

Hyunjin pinched at your arm and snapped his fingers with his other hand next to your ear. This startled you and made you whine. At this point you could barely open your eyes. Felix squeezed your hand and smiled as your whines turned into cries.

“F-Felix… Felix?!” You were in a bit of a panic, now shaking.

“Yes, noona?” He said, squeezing your hand and getting closer.

“F-Felix… ow… hurts…” you cried as Hyunjin kept pinching your arm. “I-I’m…”

“You’re scared…?” Chan said, giving you a pinch on the back of your neck.

“S-scared…. Felix?!”

“I’m right here, love.” Felix felt your hand squeezing his and smiled as you tried leaning into him.

“S-scared… lixie… hurts…” you’re words were becoming incomprehensible and Chan took this as a sign to give you some water from the kitchen.

“Can you stand up, noona?” Felix asked while getting up and pulling you to your feet. You could barely hold yourself up and legs felt like jelly.

Chan came back with an oddly colored glass of water and held it to your lips.

“Y/n, drink this.” Chan said while tilting to make you drink it. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Your drank it without hesitation and after a few seconds your legs gave out. Luckily Felix caught you and soon enough you passed out. Felix cheered as you did so and picked you up bridal style. Your arms and legs were limp and head hanging.

“Thanks guys.” Felix said with a bright smile, the first one his friends have seen in months.

“No problem…” Chan sighed while looking at the others who nodded.

-

Felix took you home and gently placed you on the bed. He undressed you and put on some pajamas he stole from your apartment.

He laid next to you and lifted your shirt a bit to trace little designs on your stomach with his finger. He did this until falling asleep next to you.

You woke up hours later in the morning. Your head hurt and you got up to look around. You couldn’t figure out where you where you were or what happened last night.

You exited the room, recognizing your surroundings. This was Felix’s place!

Felix met you in the kitchen, a bright smile on his face as he saw you.

“Good morning.” He said, giving you a kiss on the cheek and grabbing your hand.

“N-no…” you pull away and shake your head.

“Noona…” Felix pouted, coming closer. “You said you missed me..”

“I don’t… I don’t…?” You couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. This was Felix right? Something didn’t feel right. Was this your boyfriend.

You rubbed your forehead when you had a random weird wave of panic.

“F-Felix…?”

“Noona? Are you scared?” He asked, tilting his head. “Are you scared noona?”

You hesitanted and he gave you a tight hug. “W-why… why am I-…”

“Shhhh~” the boy interrupted and gently rubbed your back. “I’m here… I’ll always take care of you.”

You were just confused, wondering how you got there. About what happened last. What’d you even do yesterday?

“I’m gonna take care of you, noona…” he said with a devious smile. “You need me now…”

————————————————————————

Ko-fi

[munsonkitten]

we can love each other (i’ve been told it’s okay) - chapter 1 (6.8k) - ao3 - explicit

“I’m sick of dating,” Steve declares, a half-finished joint dangling between his fingers, smoke swirling above his head as he exhales. He’s on the floor, Eddie by his side, back against the side of Eddie’s bed. He passes the joint over to his friend and drops his head back to rest against the mattress.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie prompts, bringing the joint to his lips. He turns to look at Steve, blowing smoke in his direction.

Steve waves it away with his hand and nods.

“Boring as hell,” he says, very resolutely. His head lolls back and the sigh he releases is dramatic, long and loud.

“What’s boring about it?” Eddie asks. He offers the joint to Steve but he shakes his head, eyes red around the edges, lips forming a lazy smile.

“Fucking,” Steve says, and Eddie feels like there should be more to that sentence, but apparently there isn’t. Just… Fucking.

“Oh.”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. He reaches over to Eddie’s nightstand where half a beer sits. Steve grabs it and takes a sip, grimacing with it. It’s been there for a few hours. They’ve been here for a few hours. “Fucking is just so… Boring.”

“That can’t be right,” Eddie says skeptically. “What’s… Why is it?”

Steve groans, rubs his face with his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just go on these dates, and they’re all the same, and we go back to my house and I’ll have a girl in my bed, like, I’ll be literally balls deep and I’ll just be bored. Robin says I’m… I’m lost in the monotony of hookup culture because the way I go about it leaves no room for, uh, meaningful relationships or learning what I like? I think that’s what she said.”

“Wise words from Miss Buckley,” Eddie agrees. “Tell me more about this hookup culture.”

“I forget you’re a virgin, man,” Steve says. “You just seem like you get around. I could hook you up with someone. Maybe you’ll have more luck with, um, Stacy…? Than I did last night.”

“Do you not know her name?” Eddie asks, deciding to leave everything else Steve said ignored for the time. He doesn’t need to touch on how wrong Steve is about him, or how Steve really didn’t need to bring up his inexperience. Like, look, it’s not because he can’t find a girl. He could probably find one willing to help him out, but he’s not interested in that.

Seems like Steve’s in the same boat. Which is… interesting.

“No, it’s… definitely Stacy,” Steve says. “Or was it Stephanie? Fuck… Hey, If I were a girl, do you think my mom would’ve named me Stephanie instead?”

That startles a laugh out of Eddie. “I’m not sure, man. You should ask her.”

“Mm, no. Don’t talk to my mom, really,” Steve says with a shrug. “Reminds me. My parents are home tonight. Can I crash here?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie murmurs. He puts the joint out in the ashtray between them and rests his head back against the bed, mirroring Steve’s position. “You can stay here forever for all I care.”

“Might take you up on that,” Steve mutters.

“Tell me more about this Stacephanie,” Eddie says.

Steve laughs, loud and bubbly, and repeats the mashed-up name a couple of times.

“I don’t know, it’s like,” Steve sighs. “I literally had her on top of me, you know? In my lap, which… Whew, some guys act like it’s the holy grail of sex, you know? Having a girl that’ll ride you into the mattress. Every guy dreams of it, apparently.”

Not me, Eddie thinks.

He hums noncommittally instead of responding.

“She’s on me, I’m in her, right, and I’m just bored. Not really into it. I’m struggling to stay hard, even, like buried fully inside her pussy and it’s just not doing it for me. Which isn’t uncommon,” Steve says with a shrug. “After everything I’ve been through? Not uncommon. Like sex isn’t always the only thing on my mind, like girls aren’t… It, for me. Not when I’m always thinking about a Demogorgon coming through the ceiling or bats tearing apart my body.”

Christ, Eddie thinks.

“Sounds like you just need someone who’s better at taking your mind off things,” Eddie says.

“Probably,” Steve agrees easily. “Probably why I like getting high with you.”

“Huh,” Eddie breathes. He shakes his head. “So she’s on top of you. Are you, uh, sitting up or laying down?”

He doesn’t know why it’s so important, but he wants Steve to keep talking. He wants to understand him a little bit better, maybe see if he can pinpoint where everything is going wrong for him. Right now it’s looking more like Steve’s… Well, he can’t say just yet.

“Sitting against the headboard,” Steve answers. “It’s like… I’ll show you.”

“Okay…?”

And then suddenly he has a lap full of Steve fucking Harrington. Straddling him, knees on either side of his hips, ass resting right over Eddie’s crotch. Eddie’s posture is shit, and he’s a bit shorter than Steve, so Steve fucking Harrington’s chest is just inches from his face. The chest he’s dreamt of burying his face into ever since he saw it bare and hairy that night at Lover’s Lake. Christ. He’s chubbing up faster than he did that night. He needs Steve out of his lap and he needs a cigarette as soon as possible.

“So it’s like this, yeah?” Steve says. “And so, like, as you can see, her tits are right in my face and everything, which I’ve never really understood that much. Boobies shmoobies.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie agrees, feeling a bit dumb. He can’t comprehend what’s happening right now.

“Hands on my hips,” Steve instructs. He wraps his own arms around Eddie’s neck, presses his stomach to Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s hands fly to Steve’s hips without permission from his brain.

“This is how we were,” Steve says, like this is the most normal thing ever. Like it’s just normal to talk about sex like this and fucking demonstrate it in your boy best friend’s fucking lap. Steve lifts up a bit and drops back down. “Like this.”

He’s moving slowly, out of rhythm, and thank god he’s no longer resting on Eddie’s cock because then he’d know just how much this is fucking turning him on.

“And she’s moaning, and it’s just not fucking doing it for me,” Steve continues. “Like this girl was making these high, breathy, fake sounds. Like ‘ah! Ah! So good! Yeah, yeah! Yes, yes, yes!’ Like bad porno shit that I never really liked much. I always feel like I’d be better off muting that shit or using my own mind to get off. But it’s not like you can mute a real person! It just never does anything for me, real or not, but honestly I prefer when it’s genuine, and this girl was not.”

Eddie wishes he could mute Steve right about now.

“It’s just… Maybe Robin’s right. Monotony,” Steve says, halting his movements. He doesn’t sit down again, thankfully.

“Yeah, for sure,” Eddie nods. “Uh.. Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve hums. He’s looking down at Eddie, eyes half shut, that lazy smile still on his lips.

“Is that… is that all?” Eddie asks.

“No, so,” Steve continues. “I thought, you know, maybe if we switch positions, so I rolled her over onto her back, and I’m, like, ugh, I just need to fucking cum already, so I’m pounding into her, kissing her just to make her stop with the fake moans, and I’m just… bored. I’m bored of it. It’s the same every night. Dinner, fuck, cum, sleep, repeat. What’s the point? I’m bored of boobies! I don’t think I’ve ever not been bored of boobies!”

Hell.

“Are you bored right now?” Eddie asks, walking out on a limb of a tree he knows he shouldn’t even be climbing.

Steve doesn’t answer, just tightens his arms around Eddie, still sitting up on his knees. He’s pressed to Eddie’s body, his… Fuck. His fucking cock is digging into Eddie’s belly, and it could just be because they’re talking about sex, or it could be something else. It could be something else.

He moves away from the bed and rolls them over, laying Steve out on his back beneath him.

“I asked you a question,” Eddie growls, attempting for low and seductive.

Critical miss.

Steve bursts out laughing and pushes him away, sliding out from underneath him. He sits up and reaches for the pack of smokes halfway across the room.

“That was cute, Munson,” Steve giggles, sitting back up straight to pull a cigarette out of the pack. He puts it between his lips and feels around for the lighter until he finds it. “You’re like a kitten trying to be a fuckin’ rottweiler. So cute.”

Eddie lays face down on the ground and huffs.

“I’m not cute,” Eddie mutters.

“Super cute,” Steve tells him. He puts his thumb on Eddie’s bottom lip, and Eddie realizes he’s pouting. He pulls away from Steve. “Anyway… to answer your question, I don’t think I’ve ever been bored with you.”

“Hey Steve?” Eddie asks, slowly. Careful. “Do you ever think… Could it be that you don’t like girls?”

Steve chokes on smoke, coughing and coughing as he holds his chest with one hand. He stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray, violent coughs tearing at his throat. Eddie passes him the warm beer, and Steve takes a large swig of it.

“What?” Steve squeaks when he calms down.

“You’re just sending some signals, man,” Eddie says, his voice straining in his throat. He knows Steve won’t, like, beat him up or anything, but he can’t help but feel nervous over the possibilities of Steve’s reactions.

“Signals…” Steve repeats.

Only minutes ago, Steve had been in his lap, simulating sex and talking about fucking a girl. Hard in his jeans, pressed to Eddie’s abdomen. Talking about how he’s bored of boobies, bored of fucking, bored of dating, but not bored of Eddie. Never bored of Eddie.

And he called him cute on top of all of it.

Signals.

Just enough of them that Eddie pushes himself up into his knees and crawls to Steve. He’s turned on, and he’s desperate, really, he has been for years. Being a twenty-one year old virgin will do that to a guy, sue him. And here he has Steve Harrington, the boy he’s been crushing on since middle school, sending him signals. So. Fuck it.

“Can I, um,” Eddie starts. “I want to try something, and you can, like, totally tell me to fuck off.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes.

Eddie takes a deep breath and then pulls off his shirt, dropping it to the floor beside him. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching his movements, half-lidded but still attentive.

It’s intoxicating to have Steve look at him like this. With something like desire in his eyes. Eddie can see right through him, can see the way Steve’s eyes rove up and down his bare torso, notices the small twitch of his fingers like he wants to touch. Of course, Eddie’s going to let him. How could he not?

He crawls closer, but doesn’t do what he wants to do just yet. He sits on his hands and knees beside Steve, faces just inches apart, waiting. Waiting for Steve to tell him to fuck off, waiting for Steve to push him away and jump to his feet. Waiting for Steve to leave.

It doesn’t happen. Steve just watches him and Eddie takes another deep breath and moves up on his knees, grabbing Steve gently by the shoulders. He lifts one leg and slowly moves it over Steve’s legs, lowers it down to the floor, the inside of his knees pressed to Steve’s thigh.

Immediately, Steve’s hands go to Eddie’s hips. Big, gentle hands, lightly squeezing the softness of Eddie’s body.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks, looking down at Steve’s face. He moves his hands from Steve’s shoulder, slides them up his neck and cups his jaw.

Steve tilts his head up and nods, his lips parted and his eyes slowly blinking. Comfortable.

Eddie bows his head and moves slowly, so, so slowly. He doesn’t know where the line is going to be drawn, and he’s scared to find out, but he needs to. He needs to find out and he needs Steve to find out, too.

Their lips meet in the softest little touch, and Eddie’s kissed a handful of boys, and at least half of them punched him in the face and called him slurs, but a few of them didn’t. None of them were ever sweet, though. Not like Steve, who kisses him so sweet it’s making Eddie melt inside, ooey and gooey and so fucking warm.

One of Steve’s hands shifts, moves up until his thumb grazes across Eddie’s only nipple, shifts the barbell running horizontally through the center of it. Eddie whines in his throat and Steve’s hand drops. Back down to his hip, back where it’s safe.

That’s okay. Baby steps.

Steve pulls back, warm puffs of breath coming rapidly from his parted lips. He looks like he’s about to run, he looks like he’s about to throw Eddie on the ground and fuck him silly, he looks wild and he looks terrified. Eddie presses a soft kiss to his forehead, right between his brows, smoothing away the lines of perpetual worry there.

“Are you bored now?” Eddie whispers, slowly moving his thumbs back and forth on Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shudders, his hands tightening on Eddie’s hips.

They both know it’s not about boredom, not about just a general disinterest in the act of sex itself. Steve can’t deny it, but Eddie knows he wants to. He’s been told his entire life this is wrong, that people like this are broken and disgusting and all around vile. And now he’s being faced with the idea that he’s one of them. Eddie gets it. He really gets it.

Steve shakes his head no.

“What do you think that means?” Eddie asks softly because Steve needs softness wrapped around the blunt questions and realizations. He needs the hard questions, but he needs comfort, too.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers.

“That’s okay, baby,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve reacts like he’s been punched in the gut, breath rushing out of him in a huge gust, his entire body flinching. Eddie thinks he made a mistake there — that maybe a kiss is fine, but the line is drawn at petnames — and that he’s about to be thrown off Steve and be called a freak, or a fag, or get his teeth pounded in. It doesn’t happen.

It doesn’t happen.

Instead Steve closes his eyes and drops his head forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s clavicle. He’s panting, his arms are sliding around Eddie and wrapping around his waist, tugging him in, closer, closer, closer.

“I don’t,” Steve gasps, shaking apart beneath Eddie. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie soothes, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks.

“Do you want me to stop?” Eddie asks. “We don’t have to do this.”

Steve shakes his head and tightens his arms around Eddie’s waist.

“Just… Why?” He sounds so desperate, so unsure and insecure.

Eddie’s heart aches.

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “Tell me what’s going through your head.”

“I just don’t get it,” Steve chokes, so much emotion building up in his throat that Eddie just wants to soothe it all away, wants to kiss his neck until the feeling recedes and Steve can breathe again. “Why do this? Why… Why would you want to? Why would you want me to, to feel like this toward you, Eddie? I don’t, I don’t—”

“What?”

“You can’t want this! You don’t — you don’t know. You don’t know!” Steve cries, shaking, trembling, clutching Eddie so tight it hurts. He whispers, “You don’t know what’s going through my head. Every single time I’m with you. You’d think I’m a freak if you did.”

“Hey, man,” Eddie says. “You’re talking to the freak, you know that, right? Didn’t get that name for nothing. I kissed you first. I’m sitting here in your lap, Steve. It’s not like you, like, made me do any of this, right?”

Steve lifts his head, and his eyes are so red, wet with unshed tears. He sniffles, drawing snot far back into his head in a way that sounds painful. Eddie can’t help but laugh, cupping Steve’s cheeks and running his thumbs just beneath his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him. “I know you’ve been told it’s not, but it is. It’s okay that we feel these things. It’s okay to want like this.”

“I’m scared,” Steve whispers, a secret shared between them in the safety of Eddie’s bedroom. Something Steve has never told a soul, always the bravest of the bunch, always the first to run into battle. Eddie knows how big this is, he knows how much care he needs to handle Steve with right now. He knows he’s been given a gift to be let into Steve’s life like this, he knows it’s a privilege.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” Eddie tells him.

“Okay,” Steve whispers. He sounds unsure, he looks unsure. Steve’s always scared, even if he won’t admit it. Why would this be any different?

“I promise,” Eddie insists. “Baby, I promise.”

Steve inhales sharply and nods quickly. He buries his face in Eddie’s collarbone again. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes.

“I like when you call me that,” Steve says, oh so softly into Eddie’s skin. His lips press to Eddie’s shoulder, just a breath of a kiss. “No one ever does.”

“No?” Eddie kisses the top of Steve’s head. “I can call you that. I can call you whatever you want, baby.”

“And… Can I? Call you that, too?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels like he might die. “Yeah, of course, Stevie.”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers.

“Hm?”

“I… I want you,” Steve says. “Like, not just… Not just in a sex way. Just… I want to be around you, like, all the time. I want more and more of you, and I’m terrified I’m going to ask for too much. I always, always ask for too much.”

“I have a lot to give,” Eddie counters.

“You don’t get it,” Steve says. He lets go of Eddie’s waist, and moves him, so gently, off of his lap. He pushes himself up to his feet and crosses the room to lean against Eddie’s dresser. “You don’t get it, Eddie. I’m too much. For everyone.”

“Not for me,” Eddie whispers. “Never for me.”

Steve is trembling on the other side of the room, and Eddie pushes himself up to his feet. He doesn’t move any closer, unsure if he finally crossed the line, or not. Unsure if Steve moving away means he doesn’t want any more contact or if he just thinks he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m going to get some water,” Eddie tells him.

He just needs a second, and he thinks Steve might need a few himself.

Wayne is sitting in the living room, a cigarette lit in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He sees Eddie and sets the remote down, stands up and wanders into the kitchen. He leans against the counter as he smokes.

“You boys okay?” he asks as Eddie fills a mug with water.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, staring down into the sink. “Fine.”

“Heard some yellin, so figured I’d ask.”

“Just, ah, boys being boys, and all that,” Eddie says. He grabs another mug and fills that too, sets them both down on the counter beside the sink, and turns around to look at Wayne.

“You’re being safe, right?”

“It’s not like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well,” Wayne sighs. “When it does get like that, you better be using protection. I’m not losing you.”

“Yeah, Wayne, course,” Eddie says.

Not like he and Steve haven’t bled into each other’s open wounds on multiple occasions. What, with the world ending three times before they finally managed to drive the proverbial final stake through Vecna’s heart. He doesn’t say that to Wayne.

“I’m gonna, uh,” Eddie says, picking up both mugs and nodding toward his room.

“Alright, alright,” Wayne says, waving him off. “Just keep it down. I’m gonna be hittin’ the sack pretty soon here.”

“Okay, Wayne. Goodnight, then,” Eddie tells him. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Ed, now get the hell outta here.”

Steve’s laying on his bed when he gets back, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He’s taken off his jeans, swapped them for a pair of shorts he leaves in Eddie’s dresser. He’s taken off his shirt, too, scar-ridden torso bare. Eddie realizes he’s still shirtless too. That must have been why Wayne jumped to conclusions. He realizes now how he must have looked.

“Hey,” Steve says, turning his head on the pillow to look over at Eddie. “You just gonna stand there?”

Eddie unsticks his feet from the floor and crosses the room. He sets one mug down on his nightstand and passes the other to Steve. Steve sits up, holding the mug between both of his hands, and drinks it all in one go.

“Thanks,” he says. He licks his lips a few times. “Mouth is dry.”

“That is a thing that happens, yes,” Eddie says a bit awkwardly.

He stands there, at the edge of the bed. He has no idea what to do, not anymore. They crossed into a territory that Eddie wasn’t actually prepared to cross into. He didn't have a plan going into it, and he still doesn’t. He doesn’t know what he expected, really. He should have known he wasn’t going to push Steve into having huge revelations and immediately get laid right after.

“Will you just come here, man?” Steve asks after a minute, his voice so impatient, so fucking bitchy. Classic Steve.

“Um.”

“Dude,” Steve huffs. “Get in your jammies and get in bed. I’m tired.”

Eddie’s jammies are just his boxers, and Steve knows that. He knows that, and Steve is only wearing the tiniest pair of shorts, and a pair of socks, and he’s laying in Eddie’s bed. Usually Steve takes the floor when he sleeps over. The bed isn’t really that big, and they’d have to sleep really close to each other. It’s not like Steve’s bed at his house, that they share with a foot of space between their bodies.

He kicks off his jeans and goes back over to the door to turn off his light. Steve switches on the lamp on the nightstand so Eddie can see, and he lays there, propped up on one elbow and bathed in soft orange light. His face is so beautiful, soft and open, just waiting for Eddie to come closer.

So he does.

He crosses the room and climbs into bed beside Steve. He allows himself a second to let his eyes wander, moving up Steve’s bare torso, over pink scars and thick, dark hair. A trail of the hair goes down into his waistband and Eddie wants to bury his face into it, rub his nose against the hair, and move lower even, beneath the fabric of his shorts, beneath his underwear. He wants.

“C’mere baby,” Steve says, opening his arms up.

Oh.

Eddie falls right into them, lays his head on Steve’s chest like he’s wanted to do for months. Wraps an arm around his waist like he’s dreamt of for ages. Steve’s arms encircle his body, tugging him close.

“I made things weird tonight,” Steve says after a minute. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Fucking grinding on you like that while talking about whatsername.”

“It’s… Steve, that was fine,” Eddie says. And he means it, too. “It was hot, actually. I just… I knew you were confused, and dealing with something, and I don’t know, just thought maybe it was time to address that. If we were gonna be doing things like that.”

Steve hums in thought. “I just felt this… This burning need to be close to you, and I just couldn’t resist, and I thought, maybe if we were talking about girls, it wouldn’t be, um… gay.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers. “I know, Stevie. I just… I think you needed to come to the realization or it would eat you alive. I couldn’t stand to hear you talk like that, like nothing is good for you anymore. Couldn’t stand to just listen if I could do something about it.”

“I’ve been thinking things and getting really upset with myself,” Steve whispers. “Things about you.”

“That’s a relief, actually,” Eddie tells him. “I think about you, too. Every time you say you’ve got a date, I wonder what it would be like if that date were me. I lay in bed at night and just… Just wondering what it would be like to be her. To have your hands on me, to, uh, to feel you in me the way you’ve been in them. Um. So if you’re upset with yourself for thinking about me, or if you’re worried about what I’d think about all of that, just… Well, I’m thinking about you.”

“I’d like all that,” Steve whispers. “I think I’d… I think I’d like to take you out on a date. I think I’d like to bring you back home after having dinner or seeing a movie together.”

“Oh yeah? It wouldn’t be too boring for you?” Eddie teases.

Steve laughs, his chest rising and falling beneath Eddie’s cheek. He lifts a hand and runs a hand through Eddie’s hair, making him shiver against Steve’s body.

“Are we doing this?” Steve asks.

“Depends what this is,” Eddie murmurs, tracing the scars on Steve’s stomach with his finger. “What do you want?”

“I think I want to kiss you,” Steve says. “I think I want to sleep with you in my arms, and I think I want to stick around when we wake up instead of sneaking out in the early hours. I don’t want this to be like my hookups. I… You’re my best friend, Eddie.”

“I thought that title belonged to Robin.”

“Robin’s on a level that best friend can’t even compete with. She’s my other half. You know that.”

He slides out from under Eddie and rolls onto his side, guiding Eddie up the bed with a gentle hand beneath his chin.

“It’s hard for me,” Steve starts, eyes meeting Eddie’s in the orange glow of the lamp, gold flecks dancing in rich brown. He offers him a smile tinged with sadness. “It’s hard for me to accept that I’m allowed to have this. And it’s not gonna be easy for me any time soon, I don’t think. Eddie, I’m… really messed up. Like, extremely fucked up, a total mess, but… but I want to try. I want to try to be happy.”

“You deserve to be,” Eddie whispers.

“A lot of people have been saying that to me,” Steve says. “And I’m gonna try to believe it. I think… I think you’ll help just by existing. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.”

Overcome with so much emotion, Eddie feels like he might start to cry. He lifts a hand to cup Steve’s jaw, running his thumb over a scar that runs down his cheek and toward his lip. It’s faint now, but Eddie remembers when it happened, how scared he had been because Steve’s face was cut open, he was losing so much blood, and Vecna was still alive, still hurling objects at them, still throwing their bodies through the air, still controlling an army of ravenous beasts.

He feels like he hasn’t left Steve’s side since.

“I think I’d really like that kiss you mentioned,” Eddie whispers, voice catching in his throat, so tight, trapping his words in his chest with his aching heart.

This one is just as sweet as the first, Steve cradling his cheeks with so much care, like Eddie is something fragile, something precious. Their lips move against each other, soft caresses and hesitant presses, and Eddie darts his tongue out and pulls it back in, far too shy to take the lead here. He’s never been treated this way before and he doesn’t know how to handle it. He’s only ever known rough kisses with too much teeth and greedy hands that he pushed away before they could touch him in ways he didn’t want.

He’s only ever wanted sweetness, and now he has it in his hands in the form of Steve Harrington. He has kisses that make him feel important in ways no one has ever shown him, he has soft hands, moving slow as molasses over his overheated skin.

A quiet gasp falls from his lips as he’s hit with something right in the chest, and it feels like the realization that caused it is captured and swallowed by Steve’s mouth, held safe inside him, right in his own chest beside his heart and nestled between his lungs. It feels tangible, this realization, it feels real, as he visualizes it and he thinks Steve just understands somehow, without words. He must understand because he pulls back and looks at Eddie with his soft eyes and dives back in for another kiss, needier but no less sweet than the last. The realization, safe between them, with no words needed to understand.

The realization that he’s in love with Steve Harrington, and has been since the day they first locked eyes in that boat house and all he saw was understanding and a hint of pleading, a hint of fear, but mostly just understanding and acceptance and comfort projected toward Eddie. The look in his eyes, even as Eddie held a broken bottle to his throat and threatened without words to cut him, that said you’re safe, and I know you’re scared, but I am not here to hurt you. You’re safe and I get it, and I won’t hold any of this against you. Always safe with Steve. Always.

“Steve,” he pants as he pulls back to take a breath. He knows he can’t say it. He knows, even if Steve understands, even if Steve already knows, that it would be too much, too soon. Steve’s just had his life turned upside down. He’s just started coming to terms with this piece of himself, and that piece is fragile, and he’ll never forgive himself if he says too much too soon and causes Steve to break.

“I know,” Steve whispers.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. He kisses Steve again just because he can. He can and that’s something he’s always dreamed of, but never dreamed of it actually happening.

Steve places a hand on Eddie’s hip and draws him in closer. The fronts of their bodies are flush, their twin scars lining up like a puzzle coming together. A hand works its way into Eddie’s hair, tangles gentle as fingertips trail across his scalp. He shudders, whines into the kiss because he can’t help it. He can’t help the feelings rolling in on him, pulling him under and drowning him in the warm sensation of Steve against him. His scalp tingles, alive with the touch, and Eddie is so, so touch-starved. He has to be if just a little hair touching is making him feel so unbelievably wired.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Steve nips at his bottom lip and Eddie realizes he hasn’t been kissing back. Just laying there with his lips parted, unmoving, his eyes closed. Just feeling.

“Mm, sorry,” Eddie murmurs, blinking his eyes open.

“Where’d you go?” Steve asks, moving his hand out of Eddie’s hair and to his face.

“Just feels good,” Eddie admits. “I like it when you touch me.”

“Has anyone ever touched you, baby?” Steve asks.

“Not like this,” Eddie murmurs, eyes fluttering shut again. He’s tired, and he’s so content. “Not so sweetly.”

“You ever been kissed?” Steve asks.

“Sure,” Eddie whispers. “Managed to kiss a coupla boys behind the bleachers just like anyone else. Only got my teeth knocked in by a few of them.”

Steve makes a noise in the back of his throat that Eddie can only describe as a pained surprise. Lips cover his again, uncoordinated in that needy way that makes it difficult to have control, but soft and sure. Arms encircle him as he lazily kisses back, and he feels so safe in Steve’s arms.

Always so safe with Steve.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Steve says, firm in his ear. “If I knew who, Eddie, I would… Fuck, they… I…”

His voice is shaking now, his hands trembling where they rest on Eddie’s body. The mood is shifting, and Eddie knows he’s not gonna be able to fall asleep any time soon. This is the line, he thinks. This is the part where Steve realizes what this entails, what being gay, what being with Eddie, is gonna mean.

Eddie presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw, trying to soothe him, trying to bring them back to the softness and warmth from just a few seconds ago. He shouldn’t have said anything, but he knows he can’t keep this stuff a secret, either.

“It’s in the past. I’m okay,” Eddie whispers.

“Was it anyone I was friends with?” Steve asks. Eddie knows he has to know, and he knows he’s going to apologize when the answer comes, and that’s not Steve’s responsibility. He doesn’t need to be sorry for the things he didn’t do.

Eddie wants to lie, just so Steve can save his apologies for something that matters, just so the conversation can end and they can go back to kissing, or go to sleep. He can’t lie, though. Not to Steve, not about this.

“Yeah. One of them,” Eddie tells him after a second. “But you’re not anymore. And you’re not him, so don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Steve asks.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says. “Don’t convince yourself it’s your fault. I know you, Steve. I know you, and it’s not your fault.”

“I never stopped any of them,” Steve says. “I never told them to, to be nice, or to stop picking on people. I… What if I encouraged it? What if letting them go unchecked… What if that’s why?”

“Stop,” Eddie says. “Bad people will do bad things whether they have permission or not. It’s not your fault. You got there, you changed, you dropped them. You did, Steve. You’re not that guy anymore.”

“Just because…” Steve takes a shaky breath. “Just because I’m gay now?”

“No, Steve,” Eddie whispers. “Maybe that has something to do with it, maybe it helps you empathize with people, but that’s not it. You show it every day just by not being that guy. You’ve apologized for everything, you’ve befriended me and Robin. No one’s told you to do that. You did it despite all the hate that has been drilled into you by your parents and by this town. You’re good, Steve. You’re good.”

“Is it enough?” Steve asks. “Is having gay friends, being gay, is that enough to undo the damage I’ve caused?”

“It is for me,” Eddie whispers. “It’s enough for me.”

“How? You got hurt and I could’ve stopped it.”

“Steve, you didn’t do anything,” Eddie reiterates. “Did you know one of your friends was secretly gay? That he wanted to experiment and then got scared when he heard a noise, and called me a fag before hitting me? Did you know?”

“No,” Steve whispers.

“Then how could you have known to stop it? You couldn’t be everywhere at once, Steve. You couldn’t control those people just by telling them to be nice, or whatever.”

“I feel like I’m not allowed to be gay,” Steve whispers. “Because I used to think… Used to think bad things. I don’t deserve to be…”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Eddie murmurs. “I think bad things, too. I still do sometimes. It’s not easy being someone who people hate. Sometimes the things they say sneak in and take hold, and we convince ourselves they’re right when they’re not. You’re good, Steve. And you deserve to know who you are and you deserve to be comfortable in that knowledge.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but it gets caught on a yawn. Eddie yawns in response, his jaw nearly popping out of its socket with the force of it.

“C’mon,” Eddie murmurs, reaching over to switch his lamp off. “Let’s get some sleep.”

There’s no response at first, like Steve doesn’t want to agree, but then Eddie sees him nod in the dark, sees his eyes flutter shut and open slowly again as he does. He rolls over, back to Eddie, but he pulls Eddie along with him by his hand, pulling Eddie until his chest is flush to Steve’s back.

Eddie hums happily into the back of Steve’s neck and tightens his arm, pulling Steve back into his chest, slotting their legs together.

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie whispers.

“Night.”

Eddie wakes slowly, the early morning sun seeping in through his blinds and casting lines of orange light over the bedroom. Steve is plastered to his back now, snoring quietly into his ear, his arm and leg thrown haphazardly over Eddie’s body.

It’s been a long time since he’s slept so well, and woken up so peacefully. No nightmares jolting him awake in a cold sweat, no alarm blaring in his ear, no phone ringing with a child on the other end demanding he drive them somewhere.

He doesn’t know if something woke him or not, but it’s far too early to be awake. His alarm clock says it’s just past seven. He pulls the blankets up higher over him and Steve, and snuggles back into Steve’s chest.

“‘s good,” Steve murmurs into his hair. He rolls his hips forward, pressing against the small of Eddie’s back, and oh.

Eddie pushes back, earning a sleepy groan from Steve.

“You awake?” Eddie whispers.

“Mhm,” Steve hums. He rolls his hips forward again, his dick poking Eddie in the back. “Morning.”

“Whatcha doin’ back there, sweetheart?” Eddie teases.

Steve gasps, a sharp intake of breath, and grinds himself forward again. His hips are twitching forward in tiny circular motions, rubbing himself against Eddie’s back and gasping and panting into his hair.

Arousal spreads through Eddie’s entire body, hot and tingling. His cock twitches in his boxers and he wants to reach inside them and take himself in his hand. He thinks he’s been half hard for twelve hours now, since Steve first sat in his lap, but it hits him hard that this is all happening too fast, too soon.

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling himself away.

A whiny protest falls from Steve’s lips, and Eddie rolls over and smiles at him, cupping one cheek with his hand.

“Let’s pull the brakes,” Eddie says softly. “I don’t think I’m ready for more. Not this morning.”

And it’s not that he’s not ready. Hell, he’s been ready for years. He would have jumped into bed with the first person who showed him kindness, but it just so happens that person didn’t come along until now.

It’s more that Steve isn’t ready, but Eddie won’t tell him that. He won’t tell him that he’s scared Steve is gonna get off with a boy for the first time and have some sort of crisis, worse than what’s already happening. He won’t tell Steve he’s the scared one now, too. Scared that one wrong move, one step too far will break them before they’ve even had a chance.

“Okay,” Steve breathes. He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath, his bare chest rising and falling slow and controlled. “Okay, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods again. “Can I hold you, though?”

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie smiles. “Yeah. Of course.”

Steve pulls him close, their fronts pressed together. Both of them are still hard, cocks trapped between their stomachs, but neither one of them moves, neither one of them tries for any friction. They don’t acknowledge it, they just lay together and wait it out.

With their arms wrapped around each other, they try to drift back off. As Eddie lays there, face tucked into Steve’s neck, he just hopes that Steve doesn’t find a reason to freak out and run. He doesn’t think he could handle it if he lost him.

He knows they need to take things so slowly, feeling things out and toeing the ever-moving line, but never stepping over it outright.

That’s all okay for now.

It has to be.

Read chapter two on ao3

[b1adie]

fav character from the yaoqing trio? <3

i canttt i like them all a lottttt. moze might take the edge just for checking boxes (weird freak, purple/red, kills people, unintentionally funny, Evil Childhood) but i also love jiaoqiu’s nihility (and i love healers and i like that he has pink hair) and well lets spoiler the rest. 2.5 spoilers :3

um the length of the text under the cut makes it seem like feixiao wins to be honest. but they are all winners in my heart ok. theyre silly and i miss them

okay. i also love when men get mangled and die (or nearly die) esp if it was on purpose i think thats really cool so i like that for him too. love that he suffered badly onscreen!!!!!!! and feixiao’s entire story is so cool right from her following the lux arrow as a kid to receiving lan’s gaze while facing hoolay and fucking DEVOURING THE CRIMSON MOON?? like she’s part borisin and commendable enough in battle that hoolay saw her fit to become the new borisin warhead/broodlord in his place despite also being foxian which says SO much abt her fucking strength/capabilities bc the borisin haaate the foxian. what he sees in her, combined w the moon rage she’s had in her all her life, could so easilyyy line up to make her one of THE worst things to ever happen to the universe. u may even say that the moon rage makes her lean toward that. but it was never even a possibility bc she grew up a victim of the borisin and has seen countless other victims of them since then, like the thing of her own principles being stronger than A FUCKING PLAGUEMARK … the reignbow used their bow to sever the ambrosial arbor and she used her TEETH to EAT the CRIMSON MOON. she deserves that fucking emanator status??? and ahe deserves that festival and marketable plushes and whatever the fuck she wants god damn. SHE EATED ITTTT. SHE EATED HOOLAYS HEART AND WAS LIKE whew! well thats handled.

yanqing and yunli and march r sooo lucky they were fighting feixiao-fighting-hoolay cuz if it was just feixiao fighting THEM they would be sludge right now. they would be a Stain. hoolay is less scary than her which i guess is the point bc like yea. maybe not scary but lethal. and yknow what else? her ears are big as fuck. which is really awesome.