#just remember not to push yourself too hard

[starryjake]

idea... reader being insecure about getting head but she has MUNCH HEE as a boyfriend and she ends up being addicted too

🫰🫰🫰🫰well yes.

“please, baby,” heeseung nearly begs.

his hands are rubbing your bare thighs, slowly making their way up and up and up.

he pushes the fabric of your skirt up as he goes, eager to get to what’s laying beneath it.

“i don’t know, hee,” you say.

you’re nervous, although you can’t deny how much just his hands rubbing your thighs are turning you on. you can feel yourself getting wet, an ache starting to from from the need to be touched.

“there’s nothing to be nervous about, i promise,” he tells you assertively. you look into his eyes and know that means it. “i just wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. that’s all i want.”

that was mostly all he wanted. of course he wanted to make you, his sweet girlfriend, feel good. but he also knew he would get a lot of pleasure out of himself.

since the day he started going out with you—hell, from the minute he met you, he wanted to taste you. he wanted to get his head between your legs and give you the head of a lifetime.

“but what if—”

heeseung cuts you off with a delicate kiss. he kisses you slowly, deeply, and it makes you realize even more so how bad you need him.

“you trust me, don’t you?” he whispers.

“yeah,” you answer, meaning it with all your heart.

“can i?” he asks, digging his finger into the waistband of your skirt.

“yes,” you finally tell him.

he practically rips your skirt and underwear off of you, beyond eager to finally get what he’s been dreaming of for months. you were worth it wait, he knew it before even getting a taste.

he lays down on his stomach, glancing up at you with his big doe eyes to ensure that you were okay. you still had that worried expression on your face, but heeseung was set on changing it to a pleasured one.

he kisses your thighs, his lips so soft and light that it tickles. you giggle a little, which in turn, makes him smile, relieved to know that you’re relaxing.

then finally, finally he leans in and licks a long, firm strip up from the bottom of your pussy to your clit. you gasp at the sensation, throwing your head back because suddenly it’s too heavy to hold up.

“oh my god,” you moan, thighs attempting to close around his head.

he pushes them back apart, tilting his head to lean on one as he focuses on eating your pussy. he licks up and down and circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, which has your legs twitching.

“heeseung,” you cry out, reaching down to entangle your fingers in his hair.

“mmm, yeah, baby,” he moans into your cunt. “you taste so good. you’re so wet for me, honey.”

“it feels…” you trail off as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks for a moment, quite literally taking your words away.

“feels what?” he asks.

you couldn’t remember what you were going to say. you couldn’t even think. he was eating you out so good it was making you dumb.

he didn’t mind. he could feel himself going dumb too, lost in how good you taste and how smooth and warm and amazing you feel against his tongue.

“my perfect girl,” he praises, slightly squeezing your thighs. “god, it’s so fucking good.”

all you could do was moan, getting confident enough to spread your legs wider and hump your hips up into his face. somehow, you needed even more, and he would give it to you.

he shifted his hands from your thighs and used his fingers to spread your pussy, then stuffed his face right back into it. the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue thrusted in and out of your hole was enough to send you over the edge.

“hee!” you nearly scream. “i’m cumming! fuck, i’m cumming. i’m cumming, i’m—”

again, you couldn’t speak anymore. you were cumming way too hard to do anything but let it wash over you in silence. heeseung kept his head buried between your legs while you did, nursing you through your orgasm.

you yelped when you finally came down, and heeseung regretfully pulled away from your pussy. his lips, chin, and nose were glistening with your cum.

“fuck,” he growled, crawling up the bed to kiss you hard on the lips. “you’re so fucking hot, baby. can’t believe i finally got a taste of you. i don’t think i’m gonna be able to go a day without it now.”

and you had no problem with that. who were you to complain about your boyfriend starting and ending every day with his face between your legs?

[malsmind]

shut up for a second

𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

contains ➛ ★ big dick!chris ★ size kink ★ crying ★ mentions of smoking weed ★ praising ★ dirty talk ★ slight dumbification ★ pet names ★ creampie ★

𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦!

word count: 1.3k

you don’t really know how you ended up here.

well, that’s not true. you do — you remember the smoke swirling around the living room, the low hum of music in the background, the lazy conversation that turned into lazy touches. the way chris had looked at you with that smirk, those heavy-lidded eyes that meant trouble, the slow way his fingers ran over your thigh while you passed the blunt back and forth. and now… now you’re straddling him on the couch, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his waist, your hoodie pushed up around your ribs, your shorts long gone. he’s warm under you, hands already resting on your hips like he belongs there. like this is something you both do all the time. it’s not. not exactly.

but maybe it should be.

“you feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmurs, voice already breathy, already dragging through his throat like he’s deep in it. “so tight—holy shit.”

you’re only halfway down.

your jaw clenches, breath catching in your throat. the stretch is slow and heavy, the high making it ten times worse—every nerve dialed up, every breath in your lungs tasting like smoke and tension. he’s not small. you’ve known that. you should’ve remembered that. but you’re too far in to stop now.

“chris…” you whisper, barely a warning. not sure if it’s a plea or a threat.

but he keeps going, hands tightening on your waist like he can’t help himself. “can’t believe how warm you are, shit—look at you. takin’ me so slow. bein’ so good for me.”

your eyes flutter shut, face scrunching, lips parting as you try to focus on breathing. he might be enjoying this part, but you’re hovering between pain and pleasure, trying to find the edge where one bleeds into the other. he groans again—loud, needy—and starts to say something else and nope, you’re done.

you reach out and slap your hand over his mouth.

“chris, shut up for a fuckin’ second…” you breathe, voice cracking, barely able to get the words out as your thighs tremble and you slowly, finally, sink down the rest of the way.

his eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t pull away from your touch. just grins under your hand, groaning into your palm as you bottom out on him with a soft, broken whimper. your head spins. your body goes hot all over. you stay there, not daring to move yet, just breathing, letting your body adjust. your fingers are still pressed against his cheek, your palm over his lips, and he looks so amused by all of this. he raises his brows at you, as if to say, are you done yet? you slowly pull your hand away from his mouth. roll your hips once. then again.

he groans out loud, head tipping back against the couch. “that big, huh?” he huffs a laugh, the cockiness returning full force. “needed to fuckin’ concentrate on takin’ my dick.”

you roll your eyes, leaning forward slightly, your palms flat against his chest now. “i swear to god,” you mumble, “i’ll hold your mouth shut again.”

he’s grinning up at you now, hands moving to your hips again, helping you move, slow and steady.

“ion think you will, ma,” he says, his voice smug. too smug. “not when you feel this good. not when you’re grippin’ me like that.”

you breathe out hard through your nose, trying to hold onto your pace, trying not to lose yourself in how full you feel, how good the pressure is, how he fits like you were built to take him. every roll of your hips makes your stomach flutter and your thighs tremble. he watches you like you’re a damn piece of art.

“c’mon,” he murmurs, guiding your movements, fingers pressing into your skin just right. “tell me how it feels. tell me how fuckin’ big that dick is.”

“chris—” you warn, but your voice falters, choked with need.

“nah, nah. you know you love it,” he keeps going, voice low. “look at that pussy. fuckin’ milkin’ me dry.”

you let out a broken sound, head dropping forward, forehead resting against his shoulder as your pace falters for a second. your whole body feels like it’s on fire. overstimulated and desperate and high—like every word out of his mouth is crawling under your skin in the worst, and best way.

he kisses the side of your face, grinning against your cheek. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this. dumb n’ needy. can’t even ride me properly, hm?”

you gasp softly, hips stuttering. “shut up—”

“you can’t even stop,” he says, voice dropping lower now. less teasing. more wrecked. “feels too good, huh? that it?”

you nod, barely. lips brushing his collarbone. you’re too far gone to argue. the way he fills you is too much. too perfect. it hurts a little still, but you love it—you live for this kind of overwhelming stretch. and he knows it. he knows what he’s doing to you. he lifts his hips a little, meeting you halfway.

“fuck, ’s so big…” you moan.

“mhmmm. there it is,” he breathes, hands tightening on you. “ride me, baby. just like that.”

you try. god, you try. your legs are shaking and your thoughts are scattered and you’re doing your best to keep going but it’s getting harder and harder to keep control.

“chris,” you whimper, voice barely there.

he kisses your jaw, still smiling. “you gonna cum?”

you nod, lips parting, breath catching.

“use me, then,” he murmurs, his voice low and hot and sweet like honey. “take what you need.”

and you do. you roll your hips faster now, harder, your thighs burning and your moans getting louder as your body takes over. chris groans under you, hands moving up your back, pulling you closer. your chest is flush against his now, your face buried in his neck, breath hitching every few seconds as the knot in your stomach coils tight and hot.

“thereee ya go,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “come on, baby. fuckin’ cum on this big dick. lemme feel it.”

his hands move to your ass, helping you grind down harder, deeper, until you’re trembling and crying out against his throat. you come hard, body curling in on itself, nails digging into his shoulders as you gasp and whimper, shaking. he holds you through it, whispering praises into your skin, voice cracking with how hard he’s trying not to lose it himself.

“that’s it… that’s it, ma… fuck—”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until he touches your cheek, brushing away the tears.

“you okay?” he asks softly, suddenly all gentle again.

you nod into his neck. “feels too good,” you mumble.

“i know,” he says. “i know, baby.”

you start moving again, slowly, almost mindlessly. still riding the high. still chasing something. he groans, hands on your hips again, letting you keep going even though your legs are weak and you’re still shaking.

“you’re insane,” he mutters. “you’re so fuckin’ perfect. can’t believe—shit—”

you feel him twitch inside you. and then his voice breaks.

“fuck, i’m gonna—”

you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel him throb, his whole body tensing underneath you. he pulls you down hard, hips jerking up once, twice—and then he groans loud into your neck, teeth sinking lightly into your skin as he comes. deep. warm. thick. you both go still.

just breathing. his arms stay around you. your head stays on his shoulder. the air is thick and quiet and buzzing with whatever just happened. a minute passes.

“i really did have to concentrate,” you mumble, half-laughing.

he laughs too, breathless. “yeah? and i made it hard?”

“you never shut up.”

“that’s crazy,” he says, grinning. “because you still came all over me.”

you smack his chest. “shut up.”

he kissed your forehead. “you love it.”

[rhettrosunsets]

Basking In Your Light - Bob Floyd X Fem! Reader

Pairing: Bob Floyd X Fem!Bartender Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Love Confession.

Summary: You've always been the one who tried to make peoples days brighter, make people know that someone cared. But when someone say's you're too much, Bob notices, and he's quick to tell you, you're anything but too much.

Masterlist

Word Count: 1,931

Warnings: Men in the bar being complete assholes and making a somewhat sexual comments!! Self deprecating thoughts from reader, readers over thinking. No use of Y/N, no description of what reader looks like. Reader is often described to light up a room and is very outgoing.

You'd always liked being a bit loud, a bit chaotic, and you just always liked making people smile.

Not in a flashy kind of way but the sort of way people would recognize you for your quick wit, remembering your distinct laugh that always broke through quiet moments, the way you were always cracking a joke to make someone smile if you noticed they were having a bad day, the way you could light up a whole room without trying too hard.

The Hard Deck was often like your home most nights, and you wore your charm and heart on your sleeve. Always available for everyone around to see. You’d mastered the quick banter, the soft yet flirty teasing that pilots would often do with you, the flipping off bottle caps into the trash can behind your back when you handed someone a beer. You just loved making people smile, you liked being the reason they felt at ease, like they could breathe a bit easier, like they had someone to confide in, even if they didn’t know anyone in the room.

But tonight, you just felt deflated. You’d had a shit-show of a day so far. You overslept entirely, making your day much shorter than intended, your errands got pushed off to tomorrow for the sake of trying to get through your day, and your check engine light in the car came on again, something you knew you couldn’t afford to have breakdown right now.

You’d barely gotten through the first hour of your shift when you'd overheard it, some smug voice from the back of the bar, his voice low and sharp like it was meant to slip under your skin and sting as hard as it could with the amount of venom in the man's voice.

“She’s a bit much huh? Doesn’t know when to fucking shut up and quit that polite act of hers. Girls like that always need the attention, if you know what I mean.”

You didn’t even see who said it, and to be frank you didn’t want to as you heard the mens howling laughter in the background. You’ve dealt with your fair share of things as a bartender, from creepy men who won’t leave you alone, to drunk backhanded comments that would be enough to make a grown man weep. These comments typically never bothered you, always deeming yourself an eternal optimist, always seeing the good in people. But this, this one stung away more. 

You felt it sting hot and sharp in your throat, your eyes trying to not tear up as you quickly blinked them away. And you’d brushed it off, at least on the surface level. But little by little you started unwinding your well presented cover as your shoulders curled in, your smile dulled and the sparkle normally always present in your eyes dimmed as you moved through your shift like you were on autopilot, not wanting to cause anything as you knew there was a whole squad of naval aviators just mere feet away that would go to war for you if they noticed something was wrong, much less if they had heard what the drunk bolstering men had said about you.

But Bob noticed, Bob always noticed. He hadn’t said anything yet, he was sitting in his usual corner near the pool table with the rest of the Daggers, a ginger ale in hand, watching you with those soft baby blue eyes you tried not to think about too often. He hadn't seen or heard what caused you to become a shell of yourself, but he noticed one minute you were cracking jokes with some regulars and the next your shoulders were hunched and your face read of hurt.

You liked Bob Floyd, a lot. Maybe too much, considering how little you actually knew him, only having the shared conversations, lingering glances, and the way his ears flushed pink when you made a joke that landed right, to go off of. But you knew he was different from the others, especially in the way he treated you. He was quiet, and so kind to you, always offering you the sweetest of smiles, or asking if you wanted him to walk you back to your car on nights when the bar would get especially rowdy. He was easy to be around, And for some reason he made your heart race in a way that no one else ever could.

When your break finally rolled around, you told Penny you were taking your fifteen and all but slipped out the back door into the warm night air. The ocean breeze was warm, brushing past your arms as you leaned on the railing and stared out at the distant horizon, letting out a long sigh. You were so tired of pretending things didn’t get to you, like the things people said to you just because you were so joyful and optimistic didn’t hurt you.

The door creaked behind you a few minutes later and you didn’t need to look, you could just feel the energy, and you already knew it was him.

“Hey” Bob said gently, not in a questioning manner like he was going to interrogate you, but rather like he was asking for permission to come be with you. You didn’t speak at first, you just let him come stand beside you, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as you both stared out at the moon glistening on the ocean waves.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment. You gave him a half hearted shrug, your body deflated as you muttered a soft “M’fine, you should go back into the bar, i’m sure the Daggers miss you.”

He huffed a quiet laugh shaking his head “You’re a terrible liar” That earned a ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes from you “So I’ve been told” You muttered softly. He leaned forward on the railing, arms folded as his gaze is still set on the ocean “You’re not like yourself tonight, everything okay?”

You swallowed harshly, that hitch in your throat looming near, trying to blink away the tears that have reappeared as you look down at your shoes. “M’just tired.”

Bob turned his head to glance at you. “You sure?” You exhaled slowly. “Someone made a comment earlier, about how I’m too much, that I don’t know when to shut up, that I'm just asking for a certain type of attention” You laughed out as you did quotation marks with your fingers, but it wasn’t an amused sound. “Guess it got stuck in my head.”

Bob was silent for a second, and then, quietly asked “Do you know who said it?” You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me” he said the firmest you’ve ever heard his voice., a clear difference from how he normally talks to you “Because whoever said that clearly doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about, and needs to be taken down a few pegs.” You turned to look at him, your eyes glancing over his face, there was a fierceness in the way his jaw clenched, a quiet tension in the lines of his brow, as his baby blues seemed darkened, the moon seemingly reflecting out of them.

“I just” you started, then stopped, not wanting to break down on the man you have the world's biggest crush on, but then you see the way he’s looking at you, like he’s encouraging you to talk and open yourself back up, not wanting you to become a shell of yourself again. “I’ve always been this way, you know?” You continued  “Loud. I like to talk a lot, I laugh a lot, I always try to fill the space, and I've always typically liked that about myself. I thought it meant I was doing something right, trying to make people happy, feel better. But when someone calls it too much it makes me wonder if I should just shut up sometimes, just be a bit quieter, more reserved. Maybe I’d be an easier pill to swallow if I was like that.” You say looking down and picking at your nail beds.

Bob’s head tilted slightly, his gaze locking with yours looking almost offended by your words “You shouldn’t have to shrink yourself to make other people comfortable” he said firmly “You hear me?” he asked again, softer this time. “You don’t have to dim yourself just because some people can’t handle your light.”

It hit you harder than you expected, when you looked at him, like really looked, and your chest ached. Because here was this man, the man who has always been nothing but kind to you, always gentle, always observant, and he was standing beside you and seeing you exactly as you were. He didn’t see you as too much, he didn’t see you as too loud, he saw you as you, and he didn’t want to change that.

“I love that about you” he added, and your breath caught in your throat, as your eyes winded. “Love what?” You asked in a confused tone, wondering how this man in front of you was real.

“The way that you fill a room, the way your voice carries over the music, the way you laugh without holding back and sometimes you snort and immediately try to cover your mouth.” He smiled a little shy at what he seemed to be admitting to you. “ But what I really love about you is the way you make everyone feel like they belong.”

You felt something crumble in your chest, it felt like your defensive walls were being brought down in front of you. The words settled between you like a secret, warm and glowing. You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched again, before softly muttering a quiet “Really?”

He nodded, his voice matching yours as he whispers. “Yeah.” The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward or felt like you needed to fill it. It was filled with something heavier than words could convey. And when he stepped closer, you didn’t pull away. His hand brushed yours on the railing, fingers hesitating slightly.  You turned to face him, your heart pounding so loud you were convinced he could hear it, your throat dry as you whispered “Bob?”

He looked at you like you were something incredible, like your presence was enough for him to get lost in. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now” he said, “But you’re you, you light up every room you’re in, and that whole team in there adores you almost as much as I do, and I didn’t want to make things weird if you didn’t feel the same.” A small laugh bubbled in your throat caught somewhere between disbelief and relief at his admission “Bob Floyd,” you gasped “Do you have a crush on me?”

He grinned that soft smile of his that made butterflies appear in your stomach, his cheeks a soft shade of pink as he responded “Yeah. I do.” You blinked at him, stunned for a moment, and then you stepped forward, and when you leaned up and moved in, he met you halfway.

It was gentle, warm and steady, just like him. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your cheek softly as he kissed you like he saw who you were, It wasn’t rushed like most kisses felt, It felt like something new entirely, it made your whole body feel like it was glowing. And when you pulled back, you were smiling for the first time that night. “Me too,” you whispered, as you were catching your breath.

He blinked, before grinning wide. “Yeah?” He asked with that smile stuck on his face. “Yeah” You let your forehead rest against his, “I always thought you were too good to be real.” you muttered softly, eyes meeting his. “You’re the one who lights up rooms, remember. I think you're the one who’s too good to be real.” he murmured, still so close.

“Well” you said as your brushed your nose against his “maybe now I’ll let you light up a few of mine, Bob Floyd.” and that made him laugh, as he kissed your temple like it was instinct to him.

And as the two of you stood outside beneath the warm string lights with the waves crashing softly in the background, a gentle sea-breeze engulfing you, and your fingers entwined you realized something.

You never had needed to dim your light for other people,

not when Bob Floyd had been waiting all along to bask in it.

[lascvitae]

idk if ur taking reqs but can i plz request niki trying to play games while u grind on his lap

ᝰ.ᐟ katty gonna go say gamer bf niki in my mirror 3 times brb

ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. smut (18+) 西村力 x fem!reader dry humping (kinda) riding size kink 18O3wc degradation praise kink (if you squint) creampie (use condoms!!!) squirting overstimulation pet names (baby, pretty face/pretty girl), niki is possessive n a lil mean ───── ꒰ 𝓿ault. ꒱

“NIKI.” YOU MURMUR AGAIN, VOICE low and syrupy sweet. your hips move in slow circles on his lap.

his breath catches. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked onto the screen in front of him like it’s the only thing keeping him in reality. but you can feel how hard he is under you.

you shift again, dragging yourself across the thick bulge in his sweats like you’re starving for friction. and maybe you are.

“i can feel you throbbing.” you whisper, letting your fingers trail up his stomach under his shirt. “you like when i grind on you like this, baby?”

he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. his head tips back slightly, jaw clenched tight. his hand on the mouse twitches.

you hum, satisfied. you lean back just enough so he can feel every inch of your heat through the lace, slick and already soaking through, smearing over the fabric of his sweats every time you roll your hips again.

“you’re gonna cum in your pants before you even touch me. poor baby can’t even focus, can you?” you tease, kissing up his neck with a giggle.

“stop.” he mutters, but it’s weak. your nails trace lightly over his chest. “but you’re so hard for me.”

you push your hips down, grinding just right until you feel him jerk under you.

“fuck.” he chokes out, one hand flying to your waist. “you wanna get fucked right here?”

“please. can’t wait anymore.” you whisper, lips brushing his.

he pushes the headset off his head, finally grabbing your thighs with both hands and groaning. he shoves his sweats down just enough to free his cock, already leaking at the tip. you suck in a breath at the sight of it, cunt fluttering.

he smirks. “what? you scared now?”

“n-no.” you whisper, eyes locked on him.

“then sit.”

his fingers hook in your panties and drag them to the side. your slick clings to the fabric and he grips your hips and lines himself up, pushing against your entrance.

“eyes on me. wanna see your pretty face when you take it.” he mutters, grabbing your jaw and forcing your gaze up.

you nod quickly, starting to sink down. your mouth drops open as he stretches you open inch by inch, spreading your walls around him. you moan helplessly.

he grins, catching your reaction. “you gonna take it, baby? gonna let me stretch stretch you out?”

“fuck— niki— too big—”

“nah. said you couldn’t wait, remember? so take all of it.” he says, fingers grabbing your hips as he pulls you down farther.

you slide down inch by inch, walls stretched around his length. it makes your toes curl, and when you finally bottom out, sitting fully in his lap, he groans like he’s about to lose it.

“feel that? feel me in your stomach?” he whispers, voice right in your ear.

you nod frantically. he kisses your jaw and then thrusts up into you. hard.

you cry out, hands scrambling to his shoulders as your body jolts.

“ride me. bounce, baby. make that pussy work for it.” he pants.

you start moving, bouncing in his lap. every time you drop, it’s loud. he watches you like he’s hypnotized. “look at you. taking every inch like a good little slut.”

“i’m trying—” you whimper, voice shaking.

“don’t try. take it.” he says, slapping your ass hard enough to make you jolt.

he grips your hips harder, dragging you down while he fucks up into you, making your eyes roll back.

“you close? gonna cum with me stuffing you full?” he whispers, thumb brushing your clit now.

“y-yes, niki, please— feels so good—”

“do it. cum for me, baby.” he snaps, voice tight, thumb rubbing messy fast circles into your clit now.

your mouth drops open and he doesn’t slow down. his length drags deep inside you with every bounce, stretching you open so good your body jerks with every thrust. he’s not letting you set the pace anymore, fucking up into you while keeping you in his lap like you’re his favorite toy.

your body seizes up, orgasm ripping through you. your legs tremble, nails digging into his shoulders, cunt gushing around his cock.

“fuck— baby— shit, look at that.” he pants, watching your slick squirt out, wetting his sweats and dripping down his balls.

you’re gasping, hips twitching as he keeps fucking you through it. he thrusts up once and spills into you with a low, strained groan. he keeps you full, not even pulling out as you feel his cum deep inside of you.

and then his headset mic flicks back on.

“yo, sorry. my bad. lagged out or some shit.” he mumbles breathlessly, still buried in you. his hand lazily grips your thigh and you just blink in response.

“don’t move. you’re my good luck charm.” he whispers while smirking, still twitching inside you.

taglist @saysirhc @blissfulflw @yuyuy90

[sevsevteen]

hii if requests are open (and you’re comfortable with it ofc) cab i pretty pls request an angsty fic about maybe a sasaeng breaking into readers house/hotel room and idk just the members beung protective haha

i love your work 🫶🫶

hello!! thank you for your compliment hehe 🫶 much love~

[DISCLAIMER: i've read a prompt like this a while back, however i forgot the exact details and user of the original writer who wrote about it. if any of you remember please let me know i'll be sure to tag the original ><

edit: a kind reader helped me find it! the original is 'Intruder in the dark' by @scoupsakakitty. click this for their original fic, please check it out as well~]

this scene is written entirely by me (with inspiration by the orig. creator) thank youu—

Warnings: s*saeng (booo tomatox3), breaking and entering, small injury, read with caution!

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

The hallway was quiet when everyone stepped out of the elevator. A small wave and mutters of goodbyes echoed as the members left for their own rooms.

Your hoodie was still damp at the collar from post-concert sweat, and your legs ached after hours of dancing. Tugging your keycard out the lanyard, you rubbed at your tired eyes as you reached the door.

Room 1714.

The familiar green beep clicked, and you pushed the door open.

The room was dark, only the faint amber glow of the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. You didn’t bother turning on the lights - it seemed too tiring. But when you took the first step in, the back of your neck prickled.

Something was wrong.

The room looked, at first glance, exactly as you'd left it that morning. The bed was neatly made, the curtains drawn, the complimentary water bottles untouched on the bedside table. It wasn't just the air conditioning; it was a deeper, unsettling sensation. The kind that made a chill sneak its way up your spine.

You walked toward the bed, senses on high alert. The duvet was perfectly smooth, but was the pillow fluffed just a little too much? You remembered leaving it slightly dented while getting up from your morning stretch.

Your purse - left hanging on the armchair when you left this morning - was now on the floor, contents half-spilled out. Did you knock it over when you rushed out?

A sweater, once folded on the bed, was crumpled in the corner of the room floor.

It was such a minor detail, easily dismissed as your own forgetfulness, but the unease persisted. There was a feeling. Like the air had been disturbed, the molecules rearranged by an unwelcome presence.

Your forced yourself to swallow whatever doubts you had as your hand hovered near the switch, finally flicking on the lights.

Ruffled pillow. Spilled purse. Phone charger unplugged. The mirror slightly tilted. Everything slightly…wrong.

It was tiny. Insignificant. But combined with the other small changes, it formed a terrifying mosaic in your mind.

Someone had been in the room.

Someone who definitely shouldn't have been.

And they had tried to make it look like they hadn't.

The realization hit you with the force of a physical blow. Your breath caught in your throat, blood running cold. You hadn't been alone.

Or rather, you were not alone.

You took a shaky step backwards, toward the door.

That was, when a hand wrapped around your wrist - all your senses jumping to life.

Appearing from a blindspot behind the wall of the bathroom, a man's force yanked your arm back, hard. You tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, head spinning as you landed on your back. A scream tore through your throat - only to be quickly smothered by a gloved hand pressing against your mouth, rough and smelling faintly of disinfectant, muffling any sound.

Before you could react, he was climbing over your torso, his weight pressing you down, stealing whatever breath you had left. Your wrists were seized in an iron grip, pinned above your head, held so tightly you could already feel the angry beginnings of bruises forming.

His eyes were scary - sinister. Hiding just enough for your body to start shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes closed on instinct when he leaned down, his face a dark, indistinct blur above you, breath warm and tickling your ear.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered against your ear, the wind tickling your skin. “You have no idea how long.”

You shook your head, eyes darting around frantically for an escape as tears welled up, fear surging like fire through your veins. But there was only the oppressive weight of his body and the terrifying, terrifying, intimacy of his voice.

“Don't be so cold. I know you get off work at this time every day. I've been following you for a few days now.” His voice suddenly lowered, “You looked so good in your blue sweater yesterday.”

You writhed, thrashing beneath him, screams muffled as your heart beat so violently you could hear it in your ears.

“We're a match made in heaven. Don’t you know that?”

Move. Move. Think.

A flicker of raw, desperate anger ignited within you. You weren't going to let this be your end. Not here. Not like this. The adrenaline surged, sharp and hot.

With a sudden, violent twist, you yanked one wrist free from his loosening grasp, the bruising pain a dull ache against the urgency to survive.

You fumbled the floor around you, feeling the rough carpet that scratched your skin, blindly searching – reaching out, your fingers wrapped around the cool, smooth shape of a glass cup, one that must've rolled off when you crashed against the table before.

Without thinking, you swung.

The smash echoed as the cup shattered against his temple, shards cutting skin. The grip on your wrist finally gave way as he recoiled, clutching his head, a dark stain rapidly spreading on his gloves.

Your hands weren't spared either – drops of blood rolling to your elbow while pain seared your fingertips. But you couldn't feel any of it, not right now.

You kicked hard, enough for him to roll off with a yelp.

Scrambling out from under him, you crawled toward the door with your palms scraped and bleeding. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

You yanked the door open with trembling hands - and ran like never before.

.

The crash had startled most of the floor. Staff were poking their heads out, some murmuring about the noise, but some retreated quickly, not wanting to intrude.

A few doors down, the members had already stirred, stepping out their own rooms.

“Did something fall?” Jun muttered, wandering out in a white tee and sweats.

“I heard glass,” Seungcheol said, appearing from the room beside him. “Wait–”

That’s when they saw you.

Barreling down the hallway barefoot, eyes wide, hair a mess, breath ragged as if you couldn’t get air into your lungs.

You turned back occasionally, a quick, fearful glance over the shoulder, convinced the man was right behind you, his chilling whispers still echoing in your ears.

Your legs only stopped moving when you slammed into someone - arms, chest - someone solid. The impact knocked the wind out of you.

“What's going–” It was Wonwoo.

He was cut off by your scream as you pushed away. "Get away from me!" Your voice was raw and hoarse, instinctively pushing and flailing, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to fend off whoever had stood in your way.

Wonwoo fought your fists, grabbing your arms as his own ones caged you in, forcing your thrashing to come to a halt.

“It’s me, Wonwoo. It’s just me.”

A voice, familiar and deep, began to murmur, slowly, gently, cutting through the fog of panic.

“Can you look at me?”

You paused as your vision cleared, his familiar face grounding your sanity. You collapsed into him immediately, sobbing, clutching his shirt with trembling fingers. You cried into his shoulder, pointing a trembling hand back down the hallway toward your room, stuttering out broken words between gasps.

“He– he was in– he grabbed– he was in my room-”

Wonwoo caught you again, wrapping both arms around you protectively as your knees gave out. “What? Who?!”

The words sent a shockwave through the group for a second – but the members moved instantly.

“Get a blanket. Someone call security- NOW!” Seungcheol barked, eyes wide.

Jun knelt beside you, holding your uninjured hand as he gently stroked your back, whispering: “You’re okay now. We’ve got you. Whoever it is, he’s not getting near you again.”

Mingyu and Dokyeom quickly formed a physical barrier around you and Wonwoo, their large frames blocking any view down the hallway towards your room.

“Minghao and Seokmin went down to the lobby!” Chan called from the elevator lobby, rushing back after hearing the panic.

Joshua was already on the hotel phone, voice urgent but eerily calm. “Yes, a break-in. She’s hurt. We need security and the police.”

The hallway was chaos, but around you, it was shielded - every member blocking the world from getting any closer to you.

And just minutes later, hotel security arrived, followed closely by staff and local authorities. The masked man was found still inside your room, disoriented and bleeding from his temple.

Still, your head rang when his voice boomed throughout the floor. “We belong together! Wait for me my love!”

.

You sat on Seungcheol's bed, now changed into a clean sweatshirt that belonged to Joshua, wrapped in a blanket and cradling a heat pack in your lap.

Your hands still trembled.

But you weren’t alone.

Wonwoo hadn’t left your side once. Hoshi sat on the floor by your feet, rubbing slow circles into your ankle. Mingyu had your hand in his, carefully cleaning the small cuts and scrapes on your hands – the remnants of your desperate struggle. His touch was gentle as he dabbed away the last traces of blood and shards that had embedded themselves. It hurt, of course, but exhaustion overtook every bone in your body.

Across the room, Seungcheol and Jihoon were already deep in hushed conversation, strategizing. They were setting up surveillance shifts, ensuring someone would be by your side through the night. No one had to say it aloud; the unspoken fear of the stalker's words still hung heavy.

They didn’t say much after.

None of them needed to.

Because every quiet glance, every hand on your shoulder, every member sitting in the room long after midnight without saying a word - it all said the same thing:

You were safe, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.

--

every situation has its repercussions [coming soon]

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ backstage bliss ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. mira x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ mira wants to thank you for all of your hard work and make up for the stress she’s caused you before the show ┊1.2k words

contains: smut!! dom mira & sub reader┊backstage sex, receiving oral, established secret relationship

➤ author's note: she’s so hot omfg i love stone top femmes 

“come on, bobby! they’re going to show up soon, they always do, even if it’s last minute— stop stressing out so much, you’re going to start balding at this rate!”

despite your attempt at assuring him, you were starting to fear for your own hair at this rate. the fans were calling out for their idols, waving around their lightsticks, and becoming increasingly impatient by the second as the trio were late by a whopping four minutes. you would hate to disappoint them by sending them home without the wonderful experience of a huntrix concert, and you would hate even more to do all of the tedious work to ensure that everyone in the venue got their money back as well as a small piece of merch to make up for their troubles. your superior was calling them frantically to ask where the hell they were, and you were just mentally preparing yourself to step out and break the bad news to them.

just then, as if they were angels answering your prayers, they all fell from the skies like shooting stars and crashed onto the stage in an elegant manner, jumping straight into the performance seamlessly and saving the day. you would say you didn’t doubt them for a moment because you certainly did, but you felt like you were going to faint from relief. 

of course, you couldn’t just yet because you wanted to see your lovely girlfriend moving along to the music being blasted out of the speakers, dancing like it’s what she was born to do and all she ever wanted to do. you couldn’t let yourself show too much of your admiration and attract attention to your clear romantic adoration for her though, trying your best to hide the dopey smile that would overcome you whenever you stared for too long, but god, you couldn’t believe that she was all yours just as you were entirely hers. 

“i’m so sorry for worrying you, babe,” mira yelled out once the two of you were alone, running up behind you and almost knocking you over in an embrace. “i still can’t believe we fell for that, it’s like the demons are getting smarter or something…”

“you need to be more careful!” you scolded. “i don’t want anything bad to happen to you!” you remember when you used to be concerned for her when you first learned about her demon hunting secret, and while you had full faith in her skills now, the last part of her statement was starting to make you feel stressed out for her safety again.

“oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, we kicked their asses in less than five minutes,” she teased. “you really need to relax.”

“well, it’s difficult to relax when i have an idol girlfriend who’s constantly late to all of her events because she’s busy fighting creatures from the underworld!”

“hm… you’re right about that, i should probably make it up to you and help you destress…”

you felt your face get hot at the mischievous tone lacing her voice as her fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “here? what if we get caught?”

“there’s no one here! come on now, i can tell you really need to blow off some steam. it’ll be fine, i promise.”

“okay… but you have to promise to be careful!”

“oh please, i’m nothing if not careful,” she snickered, pushing you to sit down on top of one of the speakers, and parting your thighs with your hands before hooking her fingers into your underwear and pulling it down to expose your lovely pussy to her awaiting brown eyes.

mira brought her face closer to your heat and wasted no time in dipping her tongue in, licking long, broad strokes against your folds and humming in delight at the taste of your sweetness. she watches you through her half-lidded lashes, drinking in your gorgeous facial expressions contorting in pleasure as she flicks the tip of her sharp tongue against your clit. “you’re so fucking pretty when you’re getting eaten out,” she cooed. she swears that the sight of you with your head thrown back and your mouth open in that adorable ‘o’ shape alone is enough to add five years to her lifespan each time, and she wants to see every single day for the rest of your lives together. 

“fuckkkk, miraa,” you whined as your fingers found their way tangled with her pink locks, subconsciously pushing her closer to your heat, something you didn’t even think was possible. 

she pressed her thumb against your weeping hole, tracing the outline and admiring how it twitched in need to be filled by her, “god, you’re so needy…”

“you were the one who wanted to do this,” you huffed, “i think that makes you the—”she cut you off by diving back in, eagerly lapping up your arousal seeping through, and turning your words into moans before you could finish. 

she loses her mind when she’s on her knees for you like this, slurping up that little piece of heaven between your thighs and worshipping like a devoted follower at an altar, sucking on your pearly little clit like it’s candy, and using her hands to keep your legs apart instead of squeezing at her head.

you felt so self-conscious, not just because of her intense passion, but also because of the location that was so recognizable yet was anything but at the same time. you felt like someone would walk in at any moment because they forgot something or someone cleaning up after hours would come across what the two of you were doing, eyes darting around nervously to keep a lookout until you felt mira’s teeth against your core in a threatening manner. 

“hey, eyes on me, baby,” she muttered, clearly displeased about your being distracted. 

“‘m sorry, i can’t help it…”

“don’t think about any of that,” she told you, although you were more focused on the sight of the trail of spit connecting her lips to your cunt, “just close your eyes and focus on me, okay?”

you nodded and did as she ordered, obedient as ever, shutting off all of your senses aside from touch, feeling her tongue thrust in and out of you before lapping at your most sensitive area in a constant motion. the push and pull made you feel that familiar knot in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with every passing second. 

mira could feel it too, the way your nails started to dig into her scalp and your fingers tugging on her locks a little harder. she sped up her pace a little bit more as if she was possessed by raw desire, closing her lips around you and sucking hard, determined to make you finish and create a mess all over her lower face. even when you did finally orgasm, calling out her name with an arch of your back, she continued to leave little kitten licks all over as if she was trying to clean you up. 

resting the side of her head against your inner thigh, she looked up at you with the most detestably loveable look, smirking at you, “see? i told you it would be fine.”

“god, you’re so insufferable!” you pouted, “we really could have been caught!”

“yeah, but we didn’t,” she shrugged. her voice lowered to a whisper, “besides, we both know that it would have turned you on even more if someone did.” the look on your face made her burst out in laughter before getting back up, “come on, let's get you cleaned up, the others are probably wondering where we are.”

request:

M-Mira eating out assistant manager reader before a show, perhaps 🥹👉👈

[idyllwave]

what you lack is a future

yandere!phainon x reader , angst , loss , death , 30 million cycles , etc.

Out of thirty million cycles, you only existed in one.

You were like a blip. A tiny scratch mark of erasable pencil lead on a large canvas. Someone, somehow, somewhere accidentally written you into existence. How that was possible, Phainon wasn’t sure. But you existed. He knew because he remembered.

It was the 3141592nd cycle. And when he was just about to be at his lowest point, you had walked up to him. He expected you to ask for his help like many others had, but instead you had sat with him silently and rested a gentle hand onto his shoulder. He didn’t know how long he sat with you, but it was long enough that it waned to late evening.

“Thank you,” he hated how weak his voice sounded, how tired he seemed.

“Anytime.”

He looked at you then, memorized your features, noted the way your smile curved. He didn’t know that he was asking your name before the words left his lips.

You laughed and gave him your name. Your eyes crinkling at the corners as you let your hand fall from his shoulder.

He learned a lot about you after that. It wasn’t until night had fallen that you two parted ways. Though, you did get him to promise to come to you if he ever had that terrible feeling well up inside him again.

However, like clockwork, no matter how many days and weeks he spent with you laughing and having fun – the cycle had went on and you had died in his arms. He didn’t know if your death was peaceful, or quiet, or if you had called out to him. All that he did know was that you were already dead by the time he pulled you into his arms and pressed you close to his chest.

He promised to find you in the next cycle.

But even as the cycles marched on you were no where in sight. You didn’t exist anywhere or to anyone. The moment your name would fall from his lips no one would know who he was talking about. Not even Aglaea or Tribbie could place your name.

Thirty million cycles and you only existed in one. Were you a saving grace to make sure he stayed sane and didn’t lose hope? A mistake? An accident? Was he doing something differently that was stopping you from coming to existence?

“Stop pushing Stelle! I know we landed in different places, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He sighed and plastered on a smile. Both Dan Heng and Stelle had mentioned that they were missing a third.

“Phainon,” Stelle called out, “we found them!”

When he turned, he was fully prepared to introduce himself, shake their hand, give soft pleasantries, but … the moment he saw you – everything just sort of stopped.

“Hello… Phainon, right? I’m sorry we couldn’t meet earlier, the train car we came in broke apart and I ended up landing elsewhere… Though, I do want to thank you for looking after Stelle and Dan Heng. I wouldn’t know what to do if they got into even more trouble.”

You laughed to yourself as you held out your hand for him to take, and it was starting to get silent and awkward fast when Phainon didn’t make a move to take your hand. Instead, he was eerily quiet. His eyes widened and his lips parted in a smile.

“Phainon?”

“Sorry,” he breathed out, “I got lost in thought,” he took your hand with both of his. His palms pressing hard and his grip a little too tight, “it’s wonderful to meet you. And since you just got here, why don’t I show you around?”

You looked to your friends and neither seemed to mind (well, except for Dan Heng who still seemed weary).

“Sure! Sounds like fun.”

Phainon couldn’t wait to get to know you all over again, and this time, he will make sure you don’t disappear even if another cycle were to begin.

[guppiechuu]

smoke signals ★ ༄.° l.h.

plug!heeseung x fem!reader

length: 3k

warnings: smut (minors dni), dry humping, drug use (marijuana), kissing, shotgunning smoke, dirty talk

synopsis: rule #1: never fuck your plug. but it’s oh-so hard to remember this rule when your plug is sooo hot and soooo into you.

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ anon requested stoner!heeseung dry humping and as a DH connoisseur I HAD to oblige :)

——

You weren't supposed to be here.

You had one rule. Don't date your plug.

It was too messy. Too close. Too many girls who were angling for the same thing—twirling their hair round their fingers as they asked for favors, dragging their nails down his bicep, adding extra emojis and letters to all their text exchanges.

You didn't want to be part of the entourage that trailed after him, sliding into his lap at parties, stealing the blunt from his lips mid-conversation. Not your style.

The only problem? He didn't seem to care about any of those girls. He had his eyes on one person. You.

Heeseung had started inviting you over to smoke a few months ago. It was innocent enough—a joint and a movie, most of the time. He was generous enough to let you smoke for free, though it wasn't lost on you why he treated you with such glimmering hospitality.

He made it obvious how interested he was.

And you made it obvious that you were not.

At least, that's what you told yourself.

Heeseung's pursuit was admirable, and you liked the way his attention made you feel, but he probably invited all the girls he supplied to over.

Probably flirted with each one the way he did with you, watched them with the same lazy hunger in his eyes that always had you stumbling over your words. What, were you supposed to believe he'd never had a crush on a customer before? He did this with everyone. It wasn't special.

Even if you were the only person he ever rolled up for.

Even if he always let you hit first, eyes locked on the shape of your lips as you inhaled.

Even if he always sat a little too close when the lights were off.

You stuck to your side of the couch. Kept your arms crossed over yourself like it might stop the tension from boiling up every time he moved and you felt him brush against you.

And usually it worked.

Until tonight.

There was something about being there with him, the way he kept stretching out on the couch, finding reasons to brush up against you. Eyes lingering on you as he passed you the joint, fingers bumping yours on purpose.

"You look tired. Long day?"

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way he was staring. “Just work."

"You should relax.” His face was soft and easy, lips curving into that smirk he always wore around you. The one that said all you had to do was push, and he’d give completely. “I could help with that.”

You threw him a sideways glance, hollowing your cheeks as you inhaled. He watched, shifting slightly. He was always doing that—watching your mouth as you smoked, like he was living vicariously through the joints he rolled you.

Maybe that's why he was always so eager to offer them.

"I'm not one of your girls," You retorted, exhaling towards the ceiling.

He tilted his head. Like you were a challenge he was all too willing to take on. “Never said you were.”

"I'm not just gonna slide into your lap," You said, a little too sharply.

Heeseung grinned. "Didn't ask you to."

Silence.

You ignored him, struggling to decide between being annoyed and mildly turned on. His persistence was flattering, you could admit that much.

He just smirked a little, clearly amused at how easily he was getting to you. “You keep saying no, but you always come back."

Your mouth went dry.

Maybe you were just tired. Overworked and a little lonely—making you extra susceptible to his advances. But there was something in the tone of his voice that was making it hard to remember why you had that oh-so important rule in the first place.

"I like your weed," You muttered, trying hard to focus on the movie playing in front of you.

"Mhm." He was smirking. "You like something."

"Give it a rest," You said, throwing him a look. "I don’t fuck plugs.”

He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Never said anything about sleeping together either. Where's your head at today?"

Your cheeks burned. God, he was so annoying. He knew exactly what he was doing—teasing you into a corner and then pretending like he had no idea how you ended up there.

You turned back to the screen, jaw clenched, trying to ignore the way your body was buzzing.

It was maddening.

"Watch the movie," You said flatly, not meeting his eyes, which were still locked onto you.

"Rather watch you," He answered casually.

"Not gonna happen, Heeseung."

A blissful fog was beginning to creep into your head, softening all the sharp-edged inhibitions that you normally carried. You settled back into the couch, exhaling softly as your head swam, senses dilating.

Heeseung’s cologne wafted around you, sharp and sweet intermingling with the ashy scent of smoke. You felt the heat of his body beside you—several inches closer than he’d been at the start of the movie—and every subtle movement as he shifted in his seat.

He was fidgeting. Messing with the ring on his middle finger, bouncing his leg every now and then. Like he couldn’t focus.

"You're not gonna kiss me," He said flatly, almost like he was confirming it for himself.

"No," You answered. "I'm not."

"Right." He settled back, leaning against the cushions. “That's probably for the best."

You hummed, side-eyeing him. It was almost amusing, how badly he wanted you.

Part of you wondered what might happen if you relaxed just a bit. If you gave an inch, would he take a mile?

"If you did," He continued, casual, his eyes back on the screen. "I'd let you."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, really?"

He took a drag. "I'd let you do anything you wanted." He parted his lips, smoke curling up from his mouth. Then he glanced at you, teasing. "Just thought you should know."

You turned your head, studying him. "Anything?" You asked, voice low, almost amused.

His eyes flicked to you. Quick. Hopeful. “Yeah. Wouldn’t even do anything back. I’d just, like, sit here. Then you wouldn’t be breaking any of your precious rules.”

It was half a joke. Half entirely serious.

You nodded, fingers trailing from your lap to his knee. He stiffened beneath your touch, brow quirking up as you leaned forward.

"Didn't realize you were so obliging to all your customers," You said, sliding your finger up the inseam of his sweatpants, knee to thigh.

He flattened his hands on the couch, throat bobbing as he watched your finger move. "Nah, just the ones I really like," He said breathily.

It was hilarious. Watching his muscles tighten under your touch, like he was trying to contain himself. His hands curled into the cushions beneath him, knuckles going white, and in your hazy state you found yourself wondering for the first time:

How far would he let this go?

"I mean... what if I did want to sit in your lap?" You tested, voice light.

His breath hitched.

"Just to try it," You added, glancing up at him. "Doesn't mean anything."

He took a shaky breath. "Y-yeah. Okay."

You smirked, voice dropping almost to a whisper. "And what if I kissed you? But only because you look kinda hot tonight. Not because I like you."

Heeseung let out a sound from the back of his throat, leaning back from your touch like it hurt. Your stomach flipped in delight at the dazed look in his eyes, the way his tongue kept darting out to wet his lips.

You leaned in even closer, palm flattening on his thigh. "Still just my plug," You whispered.

"Mhm," He answered, eyes on your lips like he wasn’t even listening to what you were saying.

You didn't wait for his permission. He'd already given that up months ago. You’d just always been too reserved to take it, scared that he’d find some way to gain the upper hand. Make you the one who was scrambling to gain back control.

Not this time.

You just shifted onto your knees, one hand on his shoulder as you swung over his lap. Easy. Confident. Like you'd done it a hundred times.

And oh, Heeseung had imagined it a hundred times—how you'd feel on top of him, your body flush against his as you sat yourself down in his lap.

Only, you didn't sit.

You hovered, legs on either side of his, fingers trailing down his chest in a way that made his head fuzzy. He stiffened under you, pupils dark and wide, lip caught between his teeth.

"Still gonna let me do whatever I want?"

His fingers dug into the couch cushions. "Course," He said, chest rising and falling beneath your hands. "I'm all yours."

You flashed a wicked smile, enjoying every second of this. You dropped an inch, pressing just enough for him to feel you through his sweats. He sucked in a breath, hands tensing.

"You're such a mess for me," You teased, fingers ghosting over the side of his neck.

He let out a laugh. "You're really enjoying this, huh?"

"Just a little."

He straightened, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “We don’t even have to fuck.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“I won’t even touch you.”

“Really? Thank god.”

He growled, eyes on your lips like he wanted to devour them. “You get off on teasing me?”

Your eyes glinted. “I don’t get off on you at all. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

You really thought you'd won. That you had him right where you wanted—Lee Heeseung, everybody's favorite plug, king of nonchalance—squirming under you, begging for just a taste.

Until he put his hands on your hips, his voice darkening.

"Sit," He said seriously. "All the way."

You flushed. "I thought you weren’t gonna do anything."

"I'm not. I'm telling you to."

You lowered the rest of the way, biting down on a sound in the back of your throat as you felt him dig into you. Already hard.

Heeseung’s body was humming. He'd been hard since he opened the door. Waiting to get you in this position all damn night. He groaned, digging his fingers into your waist.

"Wearing this fucking skirt, teasing me like you're the one in control. You're smoking my weed, aren't you?"

You flushed, head spinning at the pressure of him between your legs as you nodded.

"And you want more of it, don't you?"

You nodded again, trying not to squirm. He was pressed so deliciously against you, straining against the fabric of his sweats.

He grabbed the second joint he'd rolled from the table, tucking it between his lips and lighting it. "Then come get it," He challenged.

You glared at him, the heat rising to your cheeks. "You’re—"

"What?" He leaned forward, his hands sliding up your back. His chin brushed against your chest as he looked up at you, eyes glassy and red. “You climbed on top of me, remember? All I did was sit here."

When you didn't budge, he shrugged and sat back. "Stay there then," He said, drawing another cloud into his mouth. "Makes no difference to me."

You protested, folding your arms. "And watch you smoke the whole thing yourself?"

"Sure. Unless you're ready to admit what you want."

"I want the weed."

He hummed, blowing the smoke in a stream against your skin. His breath tickled your chest, sending goosebumps rising across your arms. "That all?"

You had half a mind to climb off him, to remove yourself from the situation before things reached the point of no return, when Heeseung looked up at you and asked,

"Ever tried shotgunning?"

Your eyes widened. "No."

He didn't wait for an answer. He inhaled again and leaned forward, his mouth ghosting over yours as he exhaled the smoke into your lungs, breath tickling your bottom lip.

You gasped, startled by the closeness, and inadvertently drew the smoke into your lungs.

He watched as you swallowed it, eyes glinting.

"Good girl," He said, exhaling the rest away from you.

Your stomach clenched. He might not have thought twice about the comment, but it sent a jolt of desire shooting through your stomach. You squirmed in his lap, desire welling between your legs.

"You liked that?" He asked, glancing up at you as you shifted on top of him. "Come here.”

He did it again, pulling you down on him as he breathed into your open mouth, hands firm on your waist. You swallowed the smoke down, chasing the heat of his lips every time he pulled away.

Your head was getting foggier. Thoughts messier. All you could focus on was the feeling of him underneath you. The pressure against you. The way he was pushing you down on his lap, hips curling up to meet yours just slightly. Just enough to make you crave more.

"Your turn," He said, passing you the blunt.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm. "Still trying to get me to kiss you?"

"Still pretending you don't want to?"

The weed was making him cocky. And bold. It pained you to admit that you liked it.

You took another drag and leaned forward, smoke hitting his bottom lip as you exhaled softly.

"I don't kiss dealers," You murmured, watching the vapor curl between your faces.

He laughed, breathless, eyes darting down to your mouth. "Right. And you don't sit in their laps either."

You answered by leaning back, drawing another inhale of smoke into your lungs. He watched, breathing hard, like the effort of keeping still was taking all his strength.

He brought a hand up to your face as you blew out, dragging his thumb against your lower lip to open your mouth. Smoke spilled out from behind your teeth, drifting to the ceiling.

“Love watching you smoke,” He murmured, eyes locked onto your lips like he was entranced. “Love your mouth. The way you move your lips. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

You laughed lightly, pushing his hand away. “You use that one on all the girls?”

He nodded lazily, eyes locked on your lips. “Only the ones I really really like.”

Your stomach clenched. This time, when you leaned in with a mouthful of smoke, you pressed your lips fully onto his, breathing smoke into his lungs as his lips parted beneath you.

He swallowed, groaning as you opened your mouth against his. The sound made your head spin.

Your chest flattened against his as you leaned in, hips curling against his. His hands flew to your waist, a stuttered moan climbing up the back of his throat as you began grinding against him.

"Fuck, keep doing that," He hissed, glancing down between your bodies to watch as your hips dragged against him.

You couldn’t help it—you moaned, body flushed with the mix of weed and Heeseung's bulge pressing right between your folds. Your underwear was so wet, you might as well have not been wearing any.

Heeseung didn't seem to care that you were leaking all over him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you onto him harder, bucking up slightly as your cunt dragged over his hard-on.

His head tilted back. "Shit," He moaned, lips parting open. “Fuck, you gotta let me inside you. Y/n—“

You silenced him by kissing him again—no smoke, no excuse. Just your tongue sliding over his as you ground your cunt against his dick, body tensed with craving.

Soon, this wouldn’t be enough. Soon, you’d start wanting more. You knew it. He knew it. It was only a matter of time.

“We’re not fucking,” Heeseung insisted, lip caught between his teeth as he rolled his hips into yours.

He was on top of you now, pressing you into his couch like he was trying to get inside you without removing a single article of clothing.

You kept a tight grip on the fabric of his hoodie, knuckles white. “No, we’re not. And we’re not ever going to be,” You reminded him, unable to keep your head from falling back as the bulge in his sweatpants pressed right up against your throbbing cunt.

He growled, head dropping against his chest as his thrusts grew more frantic. Your stomach tightened into a coil of burning nerves, your thighs aching where they were clenched around his hips.

“Hmhh— fuck,” Heeseung whispered, as if he didn’t want you to know how much he was enjoying it. Like he was scared you’d tell him to stop if you did.

“Don’t stop,” You said, voice low with warning.

You’d taken things this far. No way you were walking out of his place empty-handed.

He whimpered, body flush against yours as he rubbed his dick against your pussy, marveling at the way you’d soaked the entire front of his sweatpants.

“Gonna make you cum,” He gritted out. Determined. “Gonna make you wish you’d wanted this sooner.”

“Don’t push it,” You answered, gasping as he leaned back, grabbing your hips and dragging you roughly up against his cock.

“Gonna make you beg for it,” He rambled, jutting his hips against yours sloppily, like he was a second away from the edge.

“Heeseung—“

“Fuck, you’re so bad.” He whined, ignoring your stuttered gasps. “Wanted to fuck you so bad, but you never let me. Still aren’t letting me. Why won’t you let me fuck you, y/n? Wanna make you feel good.”

You moaned, rolling your hips in his hands to chase the friction of his bulge wedged between your folds.

“Yeah, you feel good right now, don’t you? I’ll show you. You’re gonna come back begging for more.”

“Heeseung,” You cried, grabbing the back of his couch as your muscles tightened. Your legs began to tremble, your breaths growing short and harsh.

“Fuck—just like that. You want it bad, don’t you? God, you’re gonna be the first girl who’s ever made me cum in my fucking pants.”

You stuttered against him, tossing your head back as your pussy clenched painfully around nothing. He rammed his hips into yours, groaning as his cock twitched beneath his sweats.

He moaned, pressing a few last exhausted thrusts against you as he collapsed over you.

His breath was hot against your neck, chest heaving as he dug his fingers into the couch below you.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes blown, cheeks flushed. You stared back, head spinning, brain struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

“So… about that rule…”

“Shut up, Heeseung.”

[florencebirdsong]

Fourth Wip Wednesday - Basement Bunny

Chapter: Bunny Dreams

Words: 721

Tags: dark fic, implied drugging, somno, conditioning, non-con, kidnapping,

Authors note: this one is a huge tease. I’m not sorry <3

First Chapter

One night you wake to the sound of locks clicking. It’s rare for her to enter when the lights have dimmed for sleep but it’s not the first time. You wait for the lights to turn on but they don’t. Was the noise in your dream and reflex woke you up?

The lights still don’t flicker on and the door doesn’t open so you close your eyes again. You try to picture your favourite show to try and encourage dreams that aren’t about the only person you see every day. The obsessive thoughts are starting to become too much.

Sleep starts to weigh you down when the door creaks open. The lights still aren’t on so you stay still. She slowly walks towards you. If it weren’t for the complete silence of your room you wouldn’t have heard her at all. She stops at then end of your bed for a long while. You try to keep your breathing even. Is she just checking in on you? If she is, does that mean the cameras can’t see in the near dark? No, it can’t be that. She would’ve started entering late at night a lot earlier and she hasn’t before. Has she?

Her footsteps travel to the side of the bed. You suddenly regret pushing it into the corner. You also regret the way you’re facing. If you peeked your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see her.

She doesn’t stand and, presumably, stare like she did at the foot of the bed. Instead, you feel a dip in the mattress. Your heart pounds. You’ve fallen asleep a million times with her on the bed but you’ve never been on there first. You’ve also never already been asleep. Why hasn’t she woken you?

You expect her to call out pet or bunny or some command that will make this all make sense. She doesn’t. The cover lifts and her warmth reaches across the sheets towards you. You have to remember to keep breathing evenly.

She slots herself behind you in the position you’ve yet to allow. Her hand curls around your waist, her warm breath brushes the back of your neck and her leg slowly hooks around yours. Has she finally lost her patience?

You try not to be tense, to keep your breathing even, to slow your heart rate down. You have no idea how successful you are but she never says anything. The position is unfamiliar and one that used to frighten you.

Now you deny it mostly because it’s the one thing you’re allowed to deny. She never does anything more than cradle you and falling asleep in her arms is comforting in this chilly, lonely room.

Now that you’re in this position you find it isn’t so different from how you usually sleep against her. Her warmth still surrounds you and her scent is still as rich if not as strong.

You sink back towards sleep again. It’s hard not to and you don’t see a reason to resist. The lack of her waking you and moulding herself into a position you’d so vehemently denied before is barely a blip of concern now. She’s as soft and warm as ever. You should know there’s no need for concern.

You’re almost asleep when her hand moves. It slips under your shirt and you stop breathing. You slowly relax when it travels no further. It doesn’t go up or down. Its only movements are the slight circles it traces into your skin.

You had stopped lying to yourself a while ago about how much you enjoy her touch. It took longer for you to accept the want of her skin against yours. You have, reluctantly, but it’s so much nicer not having to face it in the light.

You wonder vaguely if she’s done this before. On those nights where your food tastes a little bit off and you sleep a little bit too deeply. You don’t understand why she would. Obviously there’s your reluctance to lay like this but at this point if she pushed you’d break. You sink fully back into sleep.

You don’t wake up again when the hand stops, or when it moves lower, or when it sneaks under the waistband of your pants. Your body doesn’t tell your brain anything is going on until her hand has already invaded your underwear.

[demie90s]

What about one with Jackie x teammate reader and reader is a crashout who is down bad for Jackie and will rock anyone’s shit who messes with her so when they play the fever either Sophie or Caitlin start getting smart mouthed and way too physical so reader steps in and DOES rock one of their shit in the name of standing up for Jackie. I saw your post about smut too so maybe it leads into smut or something, idk

Let Me Show You

Jackie Young x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You’re a crashout, a hothead, and the undisputed enforcer on the team—and you’re head over heels for Jackie.

Word Count: ~ 1k

Genre: WNBA chaos, protective love, locker room comedy

Warnings: Violence, foul language, ejection from game, reader got hands and no filter

Everybody on the team know I love Jackie. Quiet, sweet, lowkey Jackie. Real low maintenance but never one to let somebody talk crazy to her.

I respect that. But there’s a difference between standing up for yourself and needing someone to go full crash dummy on your behalf.

That’s me. I’m someone.

I been telling them. From preseason to now, I been saying it. Jackie get hit wrong, Jackie get pushed, Jackie even look remotely uncomfortable, I’m coming off the bench like I ain’t got a contract. Like my mom ain’t watching. Like I didn’t just get off probation. No morals.

So when we play the Fever and Caitlin Clark start talking slick under her breath—everybody hear it but ain’t nobody doing nothing. Jackie just ignore her. Like she always do. Good for her.

Maybe that work for some people. But it damn sure ain’t work for me. It itch at me. I’m already pacing.

First quarter. Caitlin come off a screen and elbows Jackie a little too hard. Jackie stumble. She get up, fix her headband, adjust her shorts. Calm. Like always.

I’m off the bench. Bothered.

Coach tap my wrist and mutter something but I ain’t listening. I just nod cause I already know what I’m bout to do. Ain’t even a play. I go in the game and I don’t blink. I’m not even guarding Caitlin, but I walk right over during the free throw and bump her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble.

She turn around, all attitude. But she don’t say nothing. Cause she know.

Second quarter. Jackie go up for a layup and Caitlin clip her wrist and shove her midair. Jackie hit the floor. And yeah the ref call it, but my hearing turn off. It’s like I can only see Jackie’s body on that hardwood, and I’m walking before I know I’m moving.

I don’t run. I don’t need to. I walk. Slow. Like I’m in a 2010 music video. Wind blowing. Jacket flowing. Real dramatic. Real ready.

Caitlin barely get the chance to open her mouth before I rock her shit. One hit. Clean. Her ponytail swung. She spun like a cartoon character and hit the ground loud. Refs start blowing whistles like they tryna summon someone.

Jackie’s voice come through all soft and shocked, “Y/N…”

I hear it but I’m just looking down at Caitlin like she lucky I stopped at one. Like the cameras not rolling. Like I ain’t got a whole family who been praying for me to stop reacting like this. Knowing they made me like this for a reason.

Ref don’t even say nothing. Just point. I nod. Cool. I walk off like it was a light workout.

Fever crowd booing. Social media gon’ cry. Her little army of Clarkette fans gon’ write novels in the comments.

I don’t give a fuck. You touch Jackie again and I’ma knock your ass into ya next game.

Back in the locker room. Cool air hitting my arms. I’m in my compression shorts eating lemon pepper wings out a foil wrap, watching old “IAmZoie” and “PatDLucky” vids on my phone like I didn’t just cause a scene. Laughing hard as hell too. Got tears in my eyes.

“Broooo, you remember this one,” I say, showing my screen to whoever walk in. “The one where he made, ‘Drop yo shit’ That shit had me in tears the first time.”

Nobody saying shit about what happened. Not yet.

Jackie finally come sit by me. Her knee got ice on it. Her voice still gentle when she lean close and whisper, “You know you didn’t have to do that, right?”

“I didn’t have to,” I say. “I wanted to.”I look over slow, chewing. She shake her head, trying not to smile, but I catch it.

“Don’t be cute now,” I tell her. “I already got ejected. Might as well go all in.”

Jackie press her lips together like she holding in a laugh.

I smirk, eyes back on my phone. Caitlin still somewhere in the building room with an ice pack and a bruised ego. Fans still crying online. The league probably calling my agent.

Meanwhile. I’m eating good. Jackie’s beside me. My hands still hurt a little. I’d do it all again. No regrets. Clark not untouchable.

———————————————————————————————

Lowkey ain’t know how to even start the smut. For once. Here was the plan: After the game. Bus ride to the Aces Training Facility. The team breaks off and goes home or something like that. After a few hours I go to her place to apologize. Like show up in the middle of the night. I lowkey think she an undercover freak. Like shy asl on camera and in person. But get her alone and I bet she’ll out freak you. Anyways…

———————————————————————————————

Jackie stay ten minutes away. Top floor apartment, clean little spot. She don’t answer when I knock, but I see the light under the door. So I knock again—gentler.

Finally, it creaks open. She’s in a big t-shirt. Hair down. Eyes low.

“You good?” she asks, rubbing her wrist like she been tossing and turning.

“I shouldn’t’ve done all that today,” I mutter. “But I’d do it again. And I just… I didn’t wanna leave it like that.”

She nods. Bites her lip.

“I know,” she whispers. “I didn’t think you would… but when you did—when I hit the floor and looked up, and you were already walking toward her—” I take a step forward.

I freeze. My chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jackie says quietly, shaking her head. “You did it without hesitation. Like you already decided what I was worth to you.”

I don’t know what to say. But she steps back, holding the door open.

“You wanna come in?”

I don’t speak. I just walk past her, slow, brushing against her shoulder on purpose. She closes the door behind me, locks it. That click is loud in the quiet.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[littlejoels]

I literally don’t have any ideas for a request other than I need more Jon snow x reader smut because he’s a favorite omg omg

notes: i was literally finishing this one up when i got this request!

your chamber isn’t normally this silent, especially when servants are murmuring beyond the stone or loud fire crackling in the hearth. but the moment you shut the door behind jon, it feels like silence.

his eyes don’t leave you, not once. not while you untie the ribbons at your throat, or as you walk toward him, knowing he’s watching your body sway beneath the silk gown. “i am leaving at dawn,” he says hoarsely.

you smile, “that is not a no.”

he doesn’t smile back, instead watching you intently. “you should not—”

“jon,” you say, stepping into him, chest against chest, lifting your chin, “do you really think i brought you up here for milk and poetry?”

he exhales like he's getting stabbed; even his hands twitch at his sides, the restraint in him could strangle an ox. maybe a couple of oxes. “i think,” he says, lowly, lust filling in his tone. “i think that if i touch you, i am not going to stop.”

“then do not stop.” you reach for his cloak, tug the heavy black wool down his shoulders. “if you leave me aching and untouched, i swear to the gods i will throw myself into the blackwater and haunt your sorry oath-breaking ass for the rest of your life.”

that gets somewhat of a half-smile from him. “haunt me, huh?” he backs you toward the bed, fingers catching your wrist. “maybe i should die here, then.”

“no,” you pull him closer. “you should live through it. remember it every fucking night on that frozen wall.”

he kisses you before the bed catches your knees. it’s rougher than usual. you break apart just long enough to drag your nightdress over your head—silk pooling to the floor—and his mouth parts like he’s seeing something almost forbidden.

“fuck,” he breathes, looking down at you. “you are...you are beautiful.”

“of course i am,” you smugly purr, dragging him down with you. “i am royalty, am i not?”

he lets out a raspy laugh and sinks between your thighs; you feel his breath before his mouth, ghosting over the inside of your thigh. his hands push your already open legs wider, fingers gripping firmly against your knees. “jon,” you whisper, already flushed. “if you tease me, i will have you beheaded before you leave.”

his grin is completely feral, “then i would die happy.” and with that, he dives right in.

his tongue moves slowly and certain, memorizing you with every stroke. he groans against you, hungrily as if he’s the one being undone.

“fuck,” he pants into you, his once steady voice now broken and ragged. “so good..i knew it.”

“do not—do not stop,” you choke out. “do not—gods, jon—do not fucking dare—”

thankfully, he doesn’t. his mouth works you open with passionate precision, tongue circling, then pressing harder, faster—unrelenting. each flick of the tongue lighting up your every nerve, pushing you closer to the moment you've been waiting for since you met him.

he looks up once, eyes almost black and watering with need, “watch me.” you lock eyes with him as he groans, circling you just right.

you cry out, pulsing around his tongue while he holds you down and rides out every wave of yours. when he finally lifts his head, his mouth is shining and his smirk was truly pure as sin. “bastard,” you breathe.

“mmhm,” he kisses your inner thigh, slow. “say it again.”

you grab his shirt, yank him up over you. “bastard.” he kisses you hard, making you taste yourself on his tongue. you moan into his mouth, hips rising to meet thick ones. “take it off,” you growl. “i want you naked. now.”

he strips fast. furs, leather, shirt—gone. his body is broad, battle-scarred, lean and strong and too damn beautiful for a man sworn to freeze himself celibate. you reach down between you, stroke him very slowly, just to see him twitch a bit.

“you want to fuck me?” you ask sweetly, palm circling the head, teasing with deliberate cruelty.

his jaw tightens, a flicker of heat in his eyes. “gods, yes.”

“then do it.”

but instead of plunging into you, he leans in close—breath scalding against your lips. “next time,” he whispers.

your glare could kill, “jon snow..”

instead of speaking, he pulls you into him, “i just want to stay here a while,” he murmurs into your hair, “just like this.” your heart punches your ribs. he’s hard against you, burning hot, and yet he still won’t take you.

he’s leaving for the wall in a few hours, and you wanted to fuck him so hard he’d never forget you. but now, with him just holding you, you lean into his warmth and decide to savor every quiet second before he’s gone.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @carmysdoll , @lowrisemiller, @bluemerakis

[kirain]

@lkblackham I wanted to write a little follow up for the fic I wrote here.

I hope you enjoy it! TwT

The Fade bled.

Emmrich ran through the twisted, ever-changing landscape, his breath ragged, heart drumming in his ears. The air shimmered, warped by fear and magic, and the sky above pulsed like a dying star. In the distance, he saw her—Atash.

She was weeping.

He shouted her name, legs burning as he sprinted across the ground, which shifted like sand beneath his boots. Shadows tore at her from all sides—monstrous things with no faces, only claws, teeth, and endless, echoing laughter. One by one, the creatures latched on, rending her spirit, until her body flickered like a broken mirror—shattered, pulled apart by the Fade itself.

"No—no, Atash!" he cried, reaching out.

But his fingers met only smoke.

She was gone.

-----

Emmrich jolted awake with a gasp, nearly choking on it. His chest heaved, and sweat matted his hair to his brow. Eyes wide, wild, he barely registered the hands that landed on his shoulders.

"Emmrich," came a soft voice. "It's all right."

He screamed.

Thrashing in panic, he tried to throw off whoever was touching him—but the hands held firm, patient.

"Emmrich, it's Neve," she whispered. "You're safe. You're with us."

"Atash!" he cried. "She—she isn't safe!"

"She's not here, but she's not in danger. We're going to find her. Remember?"

His breath stuttered. Slowly, as if he'd nearly drowned, he blinked and focused. Neve's face came into view—calm, steady, eyes brimming with compassion.

Behind her, a tall, solemn silhouette leaned against the wall: Taash. They hadn't left after laying him down. Arms crossed, jaw tight with worry, they stood vigil.

"You're in your room," Neve murmured, carefully guiding him back against the pillows. "You collapsed."

Emmrich winced. "Collapsed?" His voice rasped like scraped stone.

Taash scowled. "Because you're stupid. And pushing yourself too hard."

He tried to sit up, guilt rising with him. "I'm sorr—"

"Don't," Taash snapped, stepping closer. "If you're sorry, you'll stay in this damn bed."

Emmrich shook his head, glancing at his desk. "I have to get back to my research. If we're going to save Atash—"

He pushed himself up, arms shaking with the effort—but Taash caught his shoulder.

"Lie down," they growled.

His body gave out immediately. With a groan, he slumped back, eyes squeezing shut as pain lanced through every limb and muscle.

Taash reeled back, horrified. "Shit—did I hurt you?"

"N-no..." Emmrich whimpered. "I can't. Not now..."

"What?" Taash barked, confused. "What's going on—what's wrong?"

Neve leaned in, her hand gliding to Emmrich's forehead.

She frowned.

"He's burning up."

Taash's eyes widened. "He's sick?"

"Not with illness. Stress, more like."

Neve closed her eyes briefly, mumbled something in Tevene, and when she touched him again, her hand was cold as ice. Emmrich sighed in relief, the tension melting as her palm came to rest against his brow.

Then the room fell quiet—save for his slow, laboured breathing.

A long moment passed.

"...I'm sorry," Taash muttered. Their arms folded again, but their posture was less daunting. "I didn't mean to start that argument downstairs. I just—"

"It's all right..." Emmrich said hoarsely. He didn't open his eyes. "I also behaved poorly. I shouldn't have. I'm just... so damn scared for her."

"We all are," Neve said, her voice like flowing water. "But if you don't rest, you'll be no use to her—or to anyone."

Emmrich swallowed, his next words slurred. "I drew up... plans. Ugh... to pierce the Veil. Neve, would you... take a look?"

"I did." Her lips quirked in a small, proud smile. "They're brilliant. I've already asked Davrin to start smithing the dagger. Once you're better, you and I can try infusing it with magic."

"Thank you. We'll need... lyrium, and—"

He didn't finish, breath soft and shallow as sleep claimed him once more.

Neve didn't move, her hand still gently pressed to his forehead, her eyes heavy.

"We have to get Rook back," Taash warned, turning away. "Before he kills himself looking for her."

Neve didn't hesitate.

"We have to," she repeated. "And we will."

-----

Warmth.

That was the first thing Emmrich noticed when he stirred hours later—a real, solid warmth pressed against his side. Not the feverish kind that had wracked his body earlier, but something natural and soothing. He cracked his eyes open, his vision hazy, and was greeted by a sea of feathers.

Assan.

The baby griffin lay sprawled across the bed beside him, his downy chest rising and falling in deep, contented sleep. One clawed foot twitched occasionally, and his beak parted slightly with a snore, but his wing hugged Emmrich like a blanket. The older man flushed, stunned by the comfort of it.

Then he sensed another presence.

Manfred stood by the bed like a silent sentinel, one skeletal hand outstretched, holding a cup of water. His bones had been polished recently—Neve's doing, no doubt—and the wisp that bound him glowed faintly at the joints.

"He's been fussing over you for hours," a voice said.

"...Neve?" Emmrich rasped.

She nodded, seated at the desk on the far side of the room with a half-dozen ink-stained diagrams spread across its surface. After a moment, she stood and walked to the bed, then helped him sit upright. His muscles protested—weak and sore, though no longer searing.

"Thank you..." he panted. "And I'm so very sorry, Manfred. I've... neglected you these past few days."

"Drink," the skeleton squeaked, as though he understood.

Emmrich managed a small smile and accepted the cup. The water hit his throat like a balm—cool, clean, and so vitally needed that he drained the cup in one go.

"I... didn't realise how thirsty I was," he admitted, voice still strained but no longer fraying.

"That's a signal from your body—that you're overdoing it."

The door creaked open.

Taash strode in first, followed by Lucanis. Both of them halted mid-step when they saw the older man awake and sitting against the headboard.

"Oh, about time," Taash huffed, striding over. "How're you feeling?"

He hesitated. Atash was still gone, but—

"...Better."

Neve leaned in and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "Fever's broken," she confirmed, relieved.

"Good," Taash said, gesturing to Lucanis. He stepped forward and eased a bowl into Emmrich's lap. "Because you need to eat."

Emmrich's pupils dilated. Roasted sweet potato salad—golden chunks tossed with herbs, goat's cheese, leeks, spinach, pomegranate arils, pecans, and pumpkin seeds. Steam curled off the top, teasing his nose and tickling his taste buds.

"I... can't remember the last time I ate."

Lucanis gave a wry shrug. "We figured as much."

Before Emmrich could take a bite, the door slid open once more. Davrin entered, cradling something swaddled in cloth as gently as a newborn babe.

"Ah! You're up," he beamed, stepping closer and unwrapping the bundle to reveal a lyrium-threaded dagger—rough, but unmistakably shaped to match Emmrich's sketches.

"Your designs are incredible," he said excitedly. "This is a prototype. It'll still take a few days to perfect, and I don't want to use full lyrium until you're there to monitor it, but I swear on my honour as a Warden—I won't stop until it's an exact replica."

Emmrich opened his mouth to speak, but Taash raised a hand.

"No. No talking about daggers. Or gods. Or the Fade. Not until he eats."

Davrin paused. "Right. Sorry."

Chastened silence settled over the room as Taash glared at him like a scolding parent.

Slowly, Emmrich picked up a fork and took a bite. It was delicious—sweet and tangy, with hints of sage and garlic. It felt like bliss in his belly, like coming back to himself one bite at a time.

He looked down at Assan, still snoozing against his leg, then to Manfred, his emerald gems gleaming. Neve was seated again but watching closely. Taash stood with arms crossed but no longer scowling. Lucanis encouraged him to eat more. And Davrin clutched the prototype with an air of confidence.

Tears welled in Emmrich's eyes.

"Thank you..." he sobbed. "Thank you."

They all smiled.

"We'll get her back, Emmrich. For now, just rest."

[imagination-mess]

A Second Chance at Life (Touya Todoroki X Fem!Reader) Chapter 8

Summary: For the past five years, you’ve been raising your son as a single mother. You’ve successfully avoided questions about his father by claiming that he died during the Paranormal Liberation War. From what you believe, this isn’t a lie. The last time you saw him was when he personally escorted you to U.A.’s shelter amidst the chaos in the streets.

Unbeknownst to you, he has been alive all this time, clinging to life in a facility working to keep him alive. His father, Enji, has been desperately searching for someone willing to heal him. After his presumed death, a single photo of you and Dabi began circulating through the underground, hinting at the nature of your relationship. To protect yourself and your child, you had to pay someone to stop the pictures from spreading further.

The photo provided answers to a long-standing question: who was the healer Dabi had been protecting? It identified you as the healer who had been deemed untouchable, but it also brought unwanted attention.

A/N: Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors in advance.

Word Count: 1.9K+ Masterlist of ASCAF Previously Chapter Seven

The soft beeping of machines was the only sound Touya could hear as he slowly woke up, surrounded by the sterile, familiar smell of the hospital.

His eyes fluttered a few times before his vision adjusted. Above him was a plain white ceiling and a fire sprinkler. His gaze drifted to the sides, spotting two windows on opposite ends of the room, curtains drawn for privacy. His attention landed on a whiteboard with a large, clearly printed message:

Please press the button in your left hand when you are awake.

Was this a dream?

Or…

Was he dissociating again?

The last thing he remembered was being rushed through hospital halls, the lights overhead blurring past as they pushed him in urgency. He couldn’t make out what they were shouting. His body had been shutting down against his will.

He used to think it was a myth — that your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die.

But it wasn’t a myth for him. He saw it and felt it. Terrifying and painful, moment after moment replayed. And at the end of it all, there was you , walking someone back to the U.A. shelter. The last thing he remembered was your smile, but even that was hazy. Your face wouldn’t come clearly. Just a blur. A voice he barely held onto.

He could hardly remember your face now. Too many years spent dissociating during confinement, using it as a shield from the pain that came when even the strongest meds stopped working.

Now, he didn’t feel pain.

Now, though, there was no pain…only a strange weight in his limbs.

He tried moving his fingers. They trembled. Slowly, he felt the small object in his palm. It took every bit of focus to curl his fingers around it.

His thumb brushed over the button as he clenched his teeth, focusing all his effort on making his body obey.

A soft chime rang through the room.

His body gave in, muscles relaxing, too exhausted for anything more.

A few minutes passed before a familiar face entered the room.

Kaito, your father stepped in, offering a soft, reassuring smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Todoroki. I am Dr. (L/N). Let me run a few quick examinations before we get you some soup to start with. Then, we'll work toward solid foods. I’ll also catch you up on everything that’s happened, alright?"

The white-haired man came beside him and wrote something on his clipboard, glancing at the machine beside the bed.

"You’ve been unconscious for over a month now. It took longer than expected for you to wake up. You’re going to be disoriented and sluggish for a little while, and probably confused. It’s normal. Nothing to worry about." Kaito said, putting the clipboard down and hearing the water faucet turn on.

"I'm just going to test your strength. I'll place my hand in yours, and I want you to squeeze as hard as you can. After that, we'll see if you can move your toes and fingers. Then we'll get you some soup. You need to be on a liquid diet for a bit."

Kaito moved closer and placed his hand within Touya's grip before glancing up at the doctor.

"Squeeze my hand as best as you can. I’m just testing how well the operation connected your nerves to your muscles. After that, you can try moving your toes whenever you wish," he explained.

Touya did as he was told but struggled. He could barely manage it, but he did it. That was the best he could do. He had to try again with his right hand, the one he had believed was destroyed. His right hand was much harder to move, and he realized just how much heavier it felt compared to his left.

Kaito was watching him carefully, but his expression remained unreadable. He walked away, grabbing his clipboard once more. He returned to Touya's bedside and flashed a light at his eyes, prompting him to follow it. As he did, Kaito wrote something down.

"One last thing. Can you speak for me? One word would be enough. Even a curse word would count," Kaito asked with an amused smile.

Touya’s throat felt painfully dry, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. Despite the discomfort, he forced the words out, even though it felt like sandpaper scraping against his throat. A hoarse rasp escaped, and he tried to swallow, barely managing it due to the lack of saliva.

"W-what had-hap-pened?" His voice was weak and strained barely above a whisper. "You were taken in as a case study to see if someone with severe burns and near-death injuries could survive if their body was healed. It was done with your father's permission. No one wanted to take your case until Dr. Remedy was contracted by your father as a last resort." Kaito lifted his eyes from the clipboard, briefly meeting Touya's gaze.

Touya’s eyes widened at the mention of her name— your hero name, which was also the name you went by as a doctor.

"She’s the only reason you’re alive right now. If she hadn’t gathered doctors from across the nation to help you, you wouldn't have made it. The others, along with her, are dealing with the consequences, even after over a month. Many of them ended up in the hospital and have been banned from using their quirks for the next few months, for their own safety. All because everyone who worked on your case was treated as a case study. They overused their quirks."

Kaito paused before continuing.

"They all did it for scientific reasons, ignoring the fact that you were a high-profile criminal. They were doing it to help future patients with burns like yours. But the cost was too much for those doctors, who are now facing the consequences. In other words, you’re going to be the only person in this nation to undergo this dramatic transformation." Kaito looked directly into Touya’s eyes.

"Take this opportunity. Another chance at life. Your body costs the well-being of 15 doctors and 5 nurses. You better take care of it. Otherwise, you're wasting Dr. Remedy’s belief that people like you deserve second chances." ____________________________________ The next few weeks, Touya cooperated with the physical and occupational therapists, walking through the hospital with a walker. He felt like a baby deer learning how to walk again. The only reason he went along with it was because he was sick of feeling like a damn baby.

Due to his physical condition, his stay was extended until he could move on his own, after which he’d be transferred to the rehabilitation facility. He rejected visitation from his family. He felt too vulnerable like this. Too exposed. He didn’t want to see their pitying stares.

He heard the arguments outside his hospital room. His father, Enji, tries to see him, getting rejected every time. The old man had nothing but time to waste, showing up day after day, just to be told no.

As much as Touya hated getting help from strangers, the staff had been patient with him. They didn’t push him too hard. Some nurses definitely judged him, but at least they kept their comments to themselves. The hospitality was… normal. He was treated like any other patient.

They didn’t look at him with pity. They encouraged him, even when he told them to shut up and mind their own business. They just ignored his outbursts and kept going.

His quirk-canceling cuffs rotated between ankle and wrist restraints. Military grade, due to his classification as a high-profile criminal. The staff rotated the cuffs regularly to prevent weakening or discomfort while he regained strength. They were far more advanced than the ones he’d seen before. He remembered snooping through your apartment out of boredom, finding backups of your hero costume and the old quirk-cuffs tucked away in the closet. Those things looked like toys in comparison.

Once he was able to speak normally again, a therapist from the rehabilitation center started visiting daily for his sessions.

If he could, he would’ve jumped out the window by now.

He knew he’d agreed to his younger brother’s rehabilitation plan. Something that would hopefully work in the court system’s favor. But in truth, he didn’t care about all that. He just wanted out. Out of confinement. Out of pain. Out of this miserable limbo.

He did think of you, a couple of times.

After he regained his voice, his lawyer began visiting twice a week. What he didn’t expect was for your mother, Reika, to actually keep her word that if he left you out of the chaos, she’d represent him. She planned to take his case, even in the event that the League was taken down.

She was a terrifying woman who demanded respect. If you didn’t give it, she’d drop you as a client without hesitation. Well known in both the legal world and the underworld under a different name and a different mask.

She may have been a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. When she made a deal, she kept her word so long as you kept yours.

“Touya, your father is a piece of shit.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. The expression on her face told him everything. 

If she could kill the old man herself, she would.

“What did he do this time?”

“Acted like a misogynistic prick,” Reika snapped, her voice full of disgust. “Like I haven’t defended more high-profile criminals than most lawyers ever dream of. He pulled that ‘I’m the dominant man in the room’ garbage gave me that stare like I was supposed to flinch. Tried talking over me like I was his damn secretary.” Her tone shifted into a mocking imitation of a deep, gravelly voice. “ ‘I’m the alpha in the room.’”

She scoffed and leaned back in her seat.

“Honestly? I was one bad moment away from stabbing him in the neck with my pen.”

She clicked that same pen in her hand, her fingers twitching with irritation. "Anyways, none of that old geezer. I wanted to review what I have so far with you to ensure that you aren't surprised if it gets brought up in the court." Anyway, enough about that old geezer. I wanted to review what I have so far with you—to make sure you’re not surprised if it gets brought up in court.”

"How is (Y/N)?" Touya whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

 He knew it was out of the blue.

He’d eavesdropped a few times. Doctors and nurses mention how this would be the longest leave of absence you’d ever taken.

He knew he had a better chance of getting an answer from Reika than from Kaito. Kaito was always accompanied by someone. Touya couldn’t show that he knew him personally, and he understood why. It would launch an investigation, especially with all the pro heroes and police constantly walking around.

Reika paused for a moment, glancing up from the leather folder she always carried to jot down her notes.

“She’s doing better. Got discharged about a week ago,” Reika said, tapping her pen against the folder. “She’s being forced to take a six-month leave, but other than that, she’s okay. You’re not the reason she was bedridden. There was just an incident with Endea—”

“Did he hurt her?” Touya cut in sharply.

“No. It was indirectly... surrounded by other factors,” Reika replied, shifting into her lawyer voice. Touya shot her a look, but Reika didn’t flinch. She simply flipped to a new page in her folder, her tone shifting coldly as she dove into the notes and legal strategy for his upcoming plea hearing. --------------

Anyway, how are we feeling about Touya being awake now? He already hates feeling weak, and now he has to talk about his feelings? He’d rather jump out of a window, especially if it means talking to a stranger.

This chapter was going to go differently, but I decided to delay a certain scene. There’s actually another deal Reika and Touya made, which is the main reason she’s representing him during the war. The chaos happening in these streets is no joke.

The next 2 chapter will explore how Touya and Remedy met as teenagers: one struggling to survive in the streets, and the other trying to help people with nothing but good intentions. Spoiler alert: Touya is the stray cat, skeptical of the preppy cat.

Any thoughts or theories? I’m all ears! I’d love to hear them. Thank you so much for everyone who commented on the previous chapter! You guys are the reason why the chapter got posted earlier than expected. Your comments seriously mean the world to me. 💖 I’m so grateful to know there are people who want to read more. Next Chapter 9

[mattslilies]

15 Minutes - C.S.

"only gonna take two to make you finish." or... the one inspired by the song '15 Minutes' by Sabrina Carpenter! you bet chris that you can get him off in two minutes or less, and he wants you to prove it. warnings: smut, kinda subby!chris, cocky!reader, oral (m receiving), early ejaculation, hair pulling word count: 685 a/n: i was listening to this song in the car on the way home from getting it serviced today and the idea popped into my head! i thought it would be something short and sweet to post today <3

you hummed along to the music in your bathroom, Sabrina Carpenter's most recent album blaring out of the speakers of your phone.

nothing made you feel more confident than a few good songs while you were getting ready. something you could dance along to, sing in front of the mirror, really set your mood to happy for the day.

chris walked into the bathroom as the chorus of '15 Minutes' was playing, you singing the lyrics, a wide smile on your face as you slid your rings onto your fingers.

"i can do a lot in fifteen minutes..."

he walked up behind you, hands around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"only gonna take two to make you finish..."

as he processed the words, he looked at you, slightly surprised.

"what are you listening to?"

you giggled a bit at his shock.

"sabrina carpenter, why?"

he shook his head, helping you put on your necklace.

"nothing, i just didn't expect her to be so... vulgar."

you laughed, a little louder than you expected.

"oh, please. you listen to worse, baby."

"probably true."

you smirked at him.

"besides, you should relate to that line a little bit."

he stared at you, jaw having fallen open.

"what?"

you poked his side, turning back to do your mascara.

"it doesn't take too long to make you cum, honey."

he blushed furiously. your statement wasn't exactly untrue, but still.

"well, y-yeah, but it doesn't take two minutes!"

you grinned, turning back around.

"wanna bet?"

"baby, we have to leave in like fifteen minutes or so."

you smiled.

"no worries. i only need two minutes, remember?"

he was completely red, but nodded, a little unsurely but mostly confident.

less than thirty seconds later, you had pushed chris back, having him seated on the edge of the bathtub, pants pulled off of his legs. you were in between his knees, a hand around his cock, quickly stroking him to full hardness.

"start a timer for me, baby."

as soon as his finger pressed start, your lips were around his tip, creating a powerful suction that tinged just on the edge of too much. his hand laced into your hair immediately, a loud whine leaving his lips as your tongue dipped into his slit before tracing over it.

hollowing your cheeks, you took in more of him, tightening your hand around what you couldn't take in your mouth, stroking it. the dual stimulation caused his hand to pull on your hair, short moans leaving his lips.

"baby, fuck-"

you hummed around him, his hips immediately bucking into your mouth. you exhaled out through your nose, taking it without gagging. his thighs were twitching underneath the hand you had braced on him, a dead giveaway that he was more worked up than he wanted you to know.

you continued to work him, causing him to begin to whimper above you. you knew he was about to cum, and you braced yourself for it. he let out a broken whine, shoving your head down.

"s-shit, please- god!"

he came down your throat, his legs shaking around you as the high ran through his entire lower body. you sucked him through it, pulling off with a soft pop once he released your hair.

"stop that timer, sweetheart."

1:59.

you smiled, pride on your face. you didn't need to say anything else. chris knew you had won.

you stood up, grabbing a washcloth to wipe any residue off of chris before helping him pull his clothes back on. you moved back to the bathroom counter, brushing your teeth and finishing your makeup before kissing him, grabbing your phone.

"i think we should go, yeah?"

he nodded, still clearly shaken up.

"mhm. how late are we?"

you checked the time on your phone before replying.

"we're right on time."

he stuttered, surprise clear on his face.

"what? h-how? you did half of your makeup and everything. how are we on time?"

you laughed, leading him out of the bathrom.

"so what you're saying is, i can do a lot in fifteen minutes."

[only-lonely-star]

so your post abt your concerning amount of injured reader requests inspired me. you should totally do a gang x reader who just got out of surgery. like still under anesthesia that makes you act all high and stuff. i don’t remember if you do hcs involving the entire gang (separate ofc) or not, but if you don’t, then you could do this with dally or ponyboy— tysm ily and your writing 🤞🫶

Curtis gang x anesthetized!reader HCs

Curtis gang x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is under anesthesia. Brief mentions of bruising and blood. Reader experiences mild pain.

Author’s Note: I decided to specify this request for wisdom teeth! I got mine taken out a few years ago so I have experience lol. enjoy!! <3

+ my little story time of when I got my wisdom teeth taken out at the end bc why not :)

✦ . 　⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 🦷 ✦ . 　⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ponyboy

As soon as he saw you being pushed outside from a wheelchair, he just felt bad. Not because he had done anything wrong, but because it feels so scary to see someone he cares about so out of it.

I feel like his idea of someone being anesthetized is like ‘they zone out for a bit and slur their words’, but your experience was totally different.

If you were crying, he definitely thought you were in pain from the surgery. (For reference, some people cry when waking back up from confusion, stress, etc.)

Just by hearing your rambling, he was genuinely thinking ‘What the fuck…? Did they put you on anesthesia or something else?”

He’d try to be as helpful as possible, especially at first when you were numb inside your mouth. I think he would make a great nurse for the day and help talk you through your discomfort.

Maybe Pony would read you a book once you calmed down enough to understand what he was saying. At first you can’t do much else besides lay there and mellow yourself out, so he could easily kill time reading to you.

Ponyboy would remind you of what you’re allowed and not allowed to eat/drink/do within the first few days. The thought of dry socket scares the SHIT out of him. He wants absolutely noooo part in that.

Johnny

Johnny would laugh his ass off when you’re first rolled out of the operation room. Deep down, he’s a little scared of the possibility that he might have to have his wisdom teeth removed, so he disguises it with laughter.

He would try to fuck with you a little bit because he’s aware you can’t form coherent thoughts just yet. He thinks it’s sooo funny to watch you panic like that 😭 “Where’s your tongue?? They removed that too?!”

Okay, after he’s had a good laugh, I think he would try to comfort you a little. Especially if you were more emotional when waking up, he’d probably feel slightly guilty for teasing. I can totally see him letting you rest your head on his shoulder or blab about whatever as his way of showing you he’s there for you.

If you WERE a crier right off the bat, Johnny wouldn’t joke like that. He imagines that would feel like pure torture.

Since you can’t smoke, he’d do you a favor and exhale towards you so that you can get your dose of second-hand smoke in until you’re better.

He isn’t fazed by your all-liquid diet. Hard times have led him to consume soup, broth, and whatnot even though he can chew. I think he might try and keep solid foods out of your sight as a sign of respect.

Dallas

Similar to Johnny, I think Dallas would take one good look at you before bursting into laughter. He’s familiar with various drugs and such, but anesthesia isn’t anything like the party drugs he’s used to.

He personally thinks your swollen, gauze filled cheeks are hilarious.

No matter if you’re crying or not, I think he would try to straight up interview you on the spot. “How’s your mouth? Does it hurt? You remember who I am?”

He would take advantage of your state and try to get you to confess the most embarrassing things. Stories he can recall from ages ago that he knows you would never retell would just slip out because of your lowered inhibition.

The never ending teasing Dallas would commit to is just ruthless. You’ll be “chipmunk cheeks” to him forever.

He wouldn’t know better when it comes to post-surgery rules. He would try and be nice for once by bringing you a milkshake just to find out you need to be spoon fed instead of using straws like normal. As much as it would grate at his nerves, he would go back and out of his way to find you a spoon to slurp from.

Sodapop

He would be concerned at first glance, noticing the bruising on your cheeks and the swelling around your jaw. Soda would try and comfort you physically whether it be holding your hand or letting you lean on him for support. (This can be interpreted romantically or platonically)

When you’re rambling, he would simply nod along and go “mhm” every few mumbles so you felt heard.

During the car ride home, he tried to keep you as calm as possible. Crying or not, there’s usually a bit of a panicked reaction when first waking up from the anesthesia. I actually think Soda may have gotten his taken out before, so he knows it’s not super pretty.

Constant reassurance if you were one to cry a lot. “No, no it’s okay. It’s over now. You’re doing great.”

Once you’re a little more conscious of your surroundings, he would sit and listen to you talk about how you feel, what you need at the moment, etc. Overall, I think he would be super caring (partly because he has experience).

Steve

He would make a 😧 face when he first sees you because of how fucked up you look. He would be on the more stunned/amused type rather than comforting.

He would poke at your cheeks in fascination. The slight bruising on your jaw is “tuff” according to his judgment. “Looks like you took a few blows. I mean, it looks pretty tuff if you ask me😼.”

I think he would save the teasing until after you’ve gained full consciousness again.

He would be the type of person to try and make you laugh/cheer you up if you were crying from the anesthesia. I assume he would think you’re crying in pain or because of the blood on your gauze because he doesn’t have personal experience in this area.

If this was a modern au, he would definitely try to sneak a phone in and record you to embarrass you with videos later. Not in a mean way, but in a playful & teasing type of way yk?

He leans your head against the seatbelt in the car, trying to NOT touch your puffy cheek. His worst fear in the moment is for your gauze to fall out of your mouth and land anywhere on him.

Two-Bit

He covered his mouth like 🫢 when he first saw you, trying his hardest to not laugh IN your face.

He would talk to you like a child, and it surprisingly worked well. The slower, more simple sentences could actually be comprehended even though you were still under anesthesia.

Tries to get you to open your mouth to show him where they operated on you because he thinks the concept of surgery is so fascinating.

Similar to Soda, I think he would play along with your loopy rambling. If you’re speaking straight up mumbles that only make sense to you he’d try to mumble back like you’re speaking a language only the two of you know.

He’s oddly gentle with you. I think he would offer you something to eat (liquid foods) right away. He would try to take care of your needs because being on anesthesia does NOT look like him to fun. Funny? Sure. But fun? He would pass.

He hypes you up HELLA. I’m thinking in an encouraging but also impressive way like, “Look at you, you’re all done. It’s over! I couldn’t ever get my teeth taken out.”

Two-Bit makes you feel ‘guilty’ when he assists you. Obviously he’s just teasing, but under anesthesia you can’t take the hint. He would wipe your drool or adjust your bloody gauze and proceed to say something like, “Who else would do this for you? Mhm, exactly. Exactly! You owe me.”

Darrel

He’s so gentle and attentive with everything. He’s used to the role of a protective, caring, selfless big brother, but it’s like something snaps within him when he sees you so drugged and out of it.

He tries talking to you immediately, surveying how you feel, if you’re in pain, etc. Bonus points if you’re crying- he’ll try to ask if there’s anything he can do to help.

He tries to read the little pamphlet with care instructions from the nurses but he can’t even focus on it because he’s so concerned about you.

I feel like Darry would try and shadow you 24/7 post-surgery. If you’re asleep or simply resting on the couch he would pop his head in just to make sure you weren’t laying on one cheek or eating solid foods.

Again, this is more of a modern au type of deal- I think Darry would try and scold anyone who tried to record you. BUTTT he would take a picture for himself to keep as a silly memory, not to tease you endlessly.

He would probably be the one to drive you home post-surgery. He volunteered himself since he trusts himself enough to bring you back safely.

He shushes you when you try to ramble, he doesn’t egg you on like the others.

Story time:

My story isn’t all that interesting, but it was pretty funny to me when I retell it from my own perspective. I wanted my parents to record me so bad, but my mom insisted on not doing so. Okay so— I was brought into the operating room and sat down like normal. After about 30 minutes, who I think ended up being my surgeon came in with a thick ass needle. I knew right then and there that was the anesthesia. He starts asking me about school, what grade I’m going into, and what my favorite subject is as he’s injecting the anesthesia into my arm. I was talking like normal and I swear I blinked ONCE and I was suddenly in the backseat of my dad’s car. I remember closing my eyes for .2938384882 seconds and opening them to find myself sobbing and asking something along the lines of, “but how did I get from there to here?” and “Is it over?” repeatedly. I was sort of hunched over my lap/the back of the passenger seat with my hand stuck out towards my dad. I remember him holding it and trying to comfort me because he thought I was in pain or something. I’m 99% sure I was just confused and a little overwhelmed with the surgery feeling like a LITERAL blink of an eye. I wasn’t sad or hurting or anything like that. What’s cute is that my best friend got her wisdom teeth taken out just months before I did and claimed she was crying for me. I ended up doing the same thing, asking both my mom and my dad if she was okay and if I could text her to tell her I was awake. I also remembered seeing my brother get escorted from the exit doors into the backseat next to me. He had his eyes closed and mouth open saying shit like “I am fully awake and fully conscious” knowing DAMN well he was nowhere near planet earth. He swears he never said that but I remember him trying to act all hard so vividly. OKAY THIS IS GETTING LONG—. To conclude my little story time, I have to specify that this happened the summer after 8th grade and my Outsiders obsession was still so new to me because I read it 4th quarter of 8th grade. I was a lot more awake by the time I got home, so I could somewhat slurp down some of the milkshake my dad bought me. My mom and I laid down in her bed and we binged the Karate Kid movies together since she grew up as a Ralph Macchio/Michael J. Fox kind of girl lol. She also knew that I was really into The Outsiders and said I would like Karate Kid because I thought Ralph was sooo cute. My cheeks were bruised and puffy for WEEKS and I literally hated every single second of recovery. It felt like I could taste my own flesh because there were literal holes in my mouth from where the teeth used to be. To end this (for real this time) on a better note, I think it’s safe to say the surgery wasn’t all that scary. I was really nervous beforehand, but it turned out just fine. I recovered quickly and safely, and that’s all that really matters. So if you’re scared, don’t be! It wasn’t bad at all.

IF YOU READ MY LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE MY WHOLE HEART LOL (ts was NAWTTT little, it was longer than all of the headcanons combined)

TYSM FOR READING!!!

-Sophia 🫶🏼

[tsaheylutales]

Found this in my drive, convince me to finish it?

i think it's either set in the russian base or the bathroom in season 3. reader has acne btw (me projecting lol)

also guys pls talk to me, i rebloged some ask games? (ik i look desperate, i'm rlly bored)

“You know I sat behind you in Biology for two years?” The words come out sharper than you expected, trembling at the edges. You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest. “Sophomore year… you used to bully me, Steve.”

He looks confused, like the sentence doesn’t register. Like you’re speaking another language. You push on, bitterness curling in your throat.

“You and your friends, you made my life miserable.”

You pause, just for a second, long enough for the old memories to start flooding in. The snickers behind your back. The cruel whispers. The way his laughter, once just background noise in the classroom, became a trigger for dread.

“I liked to draw…” You say quietly. “And I was spotty, worse than I am now. I wore these ugly clothes and… you guys made fun of everything. Every sketch. Every pimple. Every time I raised my hand in class.” You exhale shakily. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe when you were near. I was constantly terrified I’d do something wrong, or weird, or just exist the wrong way in your line of sight.”

Your voice shakes, but you don’t stop.

“You guys ruined my life. For ages. I was so… insecure. So anxious all the time. I didn’t belong anywhere.”

You can see something shift in his face, guilt, maybe, or confusion. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve carried this for too long to soften now.

“Oh, [Y/n]…” Steve begins, his voice low and regretful.

But it makes something twist in your stomach, not comfort, not validation. Something worse. Something unfair.

You laugh, bitter, hollow.

“And now I work in this stupid ice cream store, wearing this stupid outfit, serving stupid sundaes to stupid, rude customers.” Your fists clench at your sides. “And I smile like nothing’s wrong, like it’s all okay and it doesn’t still haunt me.”

“Hey! Hey, I’m really sorry, I… I don’t even remember you-”

That’s it. That breaks you.

“Right.” You whisper, stunned. “So that makes it all okay? That you don’t even remember me? That the comments, the laughs, the jokes at my expense meant so little to you, you just forgot?”

Your eyes burn. You blink fast, furious at yourself for almost crying.

“You ruined my life, Steve! School was the only place I felt like I could escape, and you made it worse! You made me feel like a joke.”

You force yourself to breathe,  shallow, rapid breaths that don’t do anything to calm you down.

“While you were making out with Tammy, or Tina, or Nancy in the bathroom,” You spit, “I was in the stalls. Crying. Hoping it would all just… stop.”

Silence falls between you like glass shattering.

Steve’s face is pale, stunned into stillness. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you see it, a crack in the shiny, golden-boy armor he always wore. And for the first time, maybe ever… he sees you.