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thepencilnerd · 20 days ago

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Drunk Confessions

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You’re out drinking with your colleagues. Robby’s not there—until he is. What happens when you see each other again in the ER, and everything you said (or left unsaid) comes rushing back? genre: slow burn, angst, fluff, comfort, pining, emotional constipation, mutual yearning warnings: alcohol use, mild medical content, emotional vulnerability, mentions of vomiting word count: 3.3k (guess who got carried away again)

The night was full of laughter and bright lights, the bar alive with all the good vibes and music that made everything feel just a little bit softer around the edges. You were out with your colleagues—Abbot, Langdon, McKay, Dana, Collins, King, and even the interns—grabbing drinks after a hellish week of back-to-back shifts.

You’d chosen a private room to accommodate Mel, knowing how she felt about loud, overstimulating spaces. When you invited her, you hadn’t expected her to come, fully anticipating the polite decline. You’d even asked her with the disclaimer of, "I booked a quieter room just in case, but no pressure at all.” To your surprise, she said yes. She’d wanted to spend time with everyone. To push herself, gently. When you caught her eye across the table and gave her a small nod, she returned it with the faintest smile. A quiet exchange. A thank you, without words.

She and Javadi were curled up at one end of the booth, nursing a sparkling fruit mocktail pitcher and picking at a shared appetizer tray, happily people-watching.

Whitaker and Santos, meanwhile, were deep in an argument about who had messed up the discharge summary on a particularly chaotic gallbladder patient.

"You literally charted 'slippery little bastard' in the note," Whitaker said, pointing an accusatory fry at Santos.

"It was a descriptor!"

"It was not a clinical term, and frankly, I'm fairly certain the patient saw it."

Abbot, returning from the bar with another round of drinks, cut between them with a sigh. "Okay, children. No chart brawls on a Friday."

They both groaned. "Dad alert," McKay called from the other side of the room.

"Old man Abbot strikes again," Langdon added.

Abbot raised his hands in surrender, took a long, dramatic gulp of his drink, and muttered, "Where's the respect?"

Robby, of course, had bailed with a grumbled excuse about being too old for music and tequila. Which only led to more jokes at his expense.

"He probably went to bed at nine with a chamomile tea and a heating pad," Collins teased, earning a round of snickers.

"You know he alphabetizes his vitamins," Abbot added.

Langdon pitched. "I bet he sleeps in orthopedic socks."

You giggled into your drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor settle behind your ribs. "Leave the old man alone," you said. He probably just wants to wind down in peace."

Another round appeared. Someone made a toast. You made the mistake of turning down the snacks Whitaker offered in favor of hydrating yourself almost exclusively with spirits. Between Dana convincing you to dance and Collins dragging you into a karaoke rendition of a song by The Smiths, you lost count of how many drinks you’d had.

Eventually, it all turned into a big blur. The room was buzzing. You were fully in your giggle era. Every joke was the funniest thing you’d ever heard, and the balance provided by your cerebellum was a distant memory. You rested your chin on Dana’s shoulder, mid-laugh, when Abbot appeared at your side.

"Hey, hey—" he said gently. "Okay. I think we’re done for the night."

You blinked up at him. "Huh?"

Abbot offered a small, understanding smile. "You’re very drunk."

"I’m not—" you hiccuped. "—thaaat drunk."

"You’re holding your phone upside down and trying to call a cab. On Instagram."

You squinted at the screen. "It won’t load."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I’m calling Robby."

Your eyes went wide. "Nooooo, don’t call him!"

Abbot was already dialing. "Too late." Across the city, Robby picked up on the first ring.

"She needs a ride," Abbot said simply. "Before she starts a revolution."

There was a pause. Then: "On my way."

Ten minutes later, the bar’s front doors opened and in walked Michael Robinavitch in jeans and a black quarter zip, looking equal parts annoyed and deeply fond. His eyes scanned the space until he found the room in the back—there you were, curled up in a booth, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, grinning like a happy drunk, eyes glassy with joy and gin.

You looked up, dreamy. "Robbbbby."

He sighed through his nose. "Christ."

"You came!" you said, like he’d returned from war.

He crouched in front of you. "Ready to head out?"

"You’re so handsome when you’re irritated," you mumbled.

Abbot choked on a laugh behind you. The rest of the Pitt crew—buzzed but fully present—turned at the sound.

"Awww," McKay cooed loudly. "She’s so gone."

"Look at him, pretending this isn’t the best moment of his life," Langdon added.

"They’re literally in love," Javadi whispered, sipping her mocktail.

Mel, beside her, nodded intently. "I hope she remembers this on Monday."

"I’ve seen less chemistry in the trauma bay," Dana deadpanned.

Robby pretended not to hear any of it. But even through the dim karaoke lights, everyone could see how the tips of his ears turned bright red.

He helped you stand, guiding you gently toward the exit. You immediately shifted laterally, and he steadied you, arm wrapped firmly around your waist. With a quiet nod to your colleagues, he murmured a polite, "Get home safe, see you all on Monday," before leading you outside into the crisp night air.

Once out, the crisp air sobered you up ever so slightly. "I’m sorry," you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. His stature was firm and cut like marble, strength unwavering even after the long shift.

"I missed you." The words came out clearer than you imagined it would.

Robby’s expression flickered. He held you tighter. "Let’s get you home, lightweight."

"Can I have a piggyback?" you asked, blinking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

He snorted, amused. "You’re impossible."

"But charming," you added, looping your arms loosely around his neck.

He crouched down, and you clumsily climbed onto his back, your limbs boneless with exhaustion and too many drinks. Your face pressed against the nape of his neck, and he could feel your breath—warm and steady, despite your giggles.

"I’m really heavy," you mumbled against his collar.

"You’re not," he said, more tenderly than he meant to. His hands adjusted around your legs as he carried you through the night toward the car, his heart thudding steadily. "I’ve carried patients twice your size."

"But were they as in love with you as I am?" you slurred, voice soft, nearly sleep-drunk.

Robby froze for just a moment—then kept walking.

"You’re drunk," he said with a quiet chuckle, trying to mask the sting in his chest. "You won’t remember any of this come tomorrow."

You hummed, half-asleep now, cheek smushed against his shoulder. "I'm sober enough to form honest and coherent thoughts! Even though I know I’m not someone you’d ever actually want..."

Your words trailed off and you fell asleep like that, arms around him. Robby carried you all the way to his car without saying another word.

When he reached your apartment, Robby found your keys in your pocket and unlocked the door. He set you down on the floor and you immediately swayed, knees threatening to give way. He caught you with ease, arms wrapping around you to steady you, holding you gently but firmly against his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open and met his, the world tilting slightly. For a moment, the haze lifted just enough to see the worry behind his soft smile. Then your face shifted with sobering realization.

"Oh my god," you mumbled, your hand flying to your mouth as you wriggled out of his grasp and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Robby was at your side in an instant, holding your hair back while you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. He said nothing, just rubbed slow, grounding circles between your shoulder blades, anchoring you with his steady presence and quiet care.

Once you'd exhausted your gag reflex, you wiped your mouth and slumped back against the wall with a groan. "Sorry," you croaked.

"Don’t apologize," he said softly. He gently brushed damp hair from your forehead. "I'll be right back."

He returned with a bottle of water and a cool washcloth, helping you clean up, moving with practiced tenderness. He guided you into your bedroom, making sure to steady you when you wobbled. When it came time to change, he turned his back, looking pointedly at the ceiling, cheeks flushed. He kept his hands out, ready to help but giving you the space to move at your own pace.

At one point, when you lost your balance trying to get your leg through a pants hole, he reached out instinctively to catch you, his hands warm and careful. Thankfully, you'd been wearing your sports bra and underwear, so you weren't entirely bare.

"I'm sorry," you groaned.

"You're fine," he said quickly—too quickly—before clearing his throat and breathing slow and deep like he was trying not to combust on the spot.

Once you were decent, he helped you ease down onto the bed, avoiding your eyes like they might undo him. As he turned to leave, your fingers closed around his hand. "Stay," you mumbled.

He froze.

Then he sat. And stayed.

You stirred once more, not quite awake, and whispered, "I don't deserve you..."

He didn’t respond. Just let you keep holding his hand, the quiet filling the room like a promise. His heart swelled as he knelt beside your bed, threading his fingers through yours. He stayed like that—anchored to you—his head resting on the edge of the mattress. The room settled into soft stillness, your breath even and steady, your hand warm in his. It wasn't long before he drifted off there, kneeling on the floor, still holding your hand like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Across the room, Abbot’s text buzzed on Robby’s phone:

You're welcome—don't let her go, brother.

The next morning, Robby woke up with a crick in his neck and a dull ache in his shoulders. He blinked blearily as he adjusted to the morning light filtering through your bedroom curtains. You were still asleep, your mouth slightly ajar, a bit of drool at the corner of your lips. Despite everything, the sight made him smile—a soft, quiet thing. It was endearing. Real.

Carefully, he peeled himself up from the floor, stretching out his sore limbs. He made a mental note to book a physiotherapy session next week. Moving on autopilot, he padded into your kitchen and rummaged through your cupboards until he found the basics—eggs, bread, a few vegetables, and fruit.

As the scent of breakfast filled the apartment, he moved with purpose but not hurry, setting out a tray with aspirin, water, and a post-it note in your handwriting he’d found on the counter—one you must’ve written for yourself: buy soy milk, get more sleep, survive. He added it to the tray, like a small offering.

Then, on the bottom in his unmistakable handwriting, Robby had scribbled: Don’t forget to eat. Yes, I used the good cheese.

With one last glance at the room—at you, still asleep in the soft morning light—he slipped out the door, letting you rest.

The weekend went as quickly as it came. Back in the controlled chaos where you both lived best. It was your first full shift since that night, and everything felt... almost normal.

Until you saw him.

Robby stood across the trauma bay, reading something off a chart. When he looked up and saw you, your eyes met—and for a beat too long, the world stilled.

Neither of you spoke. But the weight of everything unsaid lingered in the space between you, soft and warm and maybe a little terrifying. Abbot, Collins, and Dana were hovering at the nurses station, pretending to scroll through charts while absolutely not being subtle about eavesdropping.

"This is painful," Collins whispered, leaning on the counter.

"Just talk to each other, for the love of God," Dana muttered, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Robby.

Abbot sipped his water quietly, though his smirk betrayed him. "Give it a minute. One of them will short-circuit soon."

Dana glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

Abbot grinned. "And miss this? Hell no."

"Should we intervene?" Collins asked.

Dana snorted. "They’d combust. I’m just here for the show."

Meanwhile, a few beds over, Langdon and Mel were assessing a post-op patient, Santos, Whitaker, and Javadi hovering close behind. Despite their supposed focus, even they weren’t immune to the tension radiating across the bay.

"Do you think they’ve actually kissed yet?" Santos asked under her breath, adjusting her gloves.

"No way," Whitaker replied, without looking up. "Too much unresolved yearning."

"It’s like watching a medical drama in real time," Javadi added, entirely deadpan.

Mel, checking vitals, didn’t look up. "Resolution seems like a logical outcome," she said simply.

Langdon grinned. "I second that." Throughout the morning, he watched as you and Robby moved around each other in the trauma bay—close, but never quite meeting in the middle.

Throughout the entire shift, Robby stayed professional. Methodical. Calm. He handed off charts with a clipped nod, offered concise updates, and maintained a respectful distance. He didn’t falter—not in front of others, at least—but you felt the strain in every careful interaction.

You, on the other hand, were colder than you intended. Slipping into a kind of self-protection mode, you responded to his questions with short answers, avoided eye contact, and shifted away when he got too close. When he reached to steady a blood pressure cuff and your hands brushed, you pulled back too quickly, flinching without meaning to. He didn’t comment, but you could see the flicker of hurt in his eyes. He licked his lips and frowned before blinking it away.

You tried to tell yourself it was easier this way. Safer. But it didn’t feel that way—not with the memory of his hands on your skin and the way he’d carried you home still lingering like static beneath your skin.

You remembered the small details with startling clarity—how he smelled faintly of clean laundry and menthol, how his hands felt rough but careful as they held you, how his voice had lowered just enough to ground you when everything else spun. But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember what you’d said.

Or if he'd said anything back.

And the uncertainty terrified you.

You didn’t know what to do with that. So you built space instead. Right around the end of the day, Robby found you by the stairwell and quietly asked if you had a minute. There was something different in his tone—not urgent, but personal. Intentional.

Which led to now: you and Robby alone in a small empty room off the main hallway.

He stood across from you, quiet for a moment. Then, gently, "Are you okay?"

You hesitated. "I'm fine. Just... a little tired."

He tilted his head, eyes searching yours. "You're not. You're pulling away."

You looked away. "I'm just trying to focus on work."

You turned toward the door, but as you moved to leave, his arms rose slightly as if to stop you. Your body reacted before your brain could—brushing him off like the touch burned. His hands fell back to his sides, and a flicker of pain crossed his face.

"I just—" you started, voice breaking. You pressed your lips together. "I don't know what to do with these... feelings."

Robby stayed silent.

"You're everywhere all the time, even when I'm not at work," you said, breath hitching. "I like you as more than a friend or colleague. Not to mention way more than any resident should like their attending."

You didn’t let him speak. The words rushed out, messy and fast. "I know it's unprofessional. I know it’s stupid. I know it’s a mess and a half and I’m probably screwing up my career, but you—you're not helping. You act like nothing’s changed, like none of it meant anything, and it hurts. You left me without an answer when I... when I basically laid out my heart bare to you, drunken stupor and all—"

Your voice cracked. "At least tell me you don’t like me back. Tell me you’re too old and I’m too young, or that I have my whole life ahead of me and I can't be held back. Just say something to make it easier to walk away from this. Please."

There was a beat of silence, thick and aching. Then, Robby’s expression shifted—something breaking open behind his eyes, like he couldn't keep it buried any longer.

Robby's voice was rough. "Do you have any idea how much I care about you?"

It was at that moment, you realized what it felt like for a heart to skip a beat.

"You're in my head all the time. Every shift, every night, even when I don't want you to be. I think about whether you’ve eaten, whether you’re sleeping, whether you’re okay. You occupy every spare inch of my thoughts."

He paused, something vulnerable flickering in his expression. "I didn’t say anything that night because I was scared. Not of you—of me. Of what it would mean. Because this?" he gestured between the two of you. "It’s not nothing. It never was. It will never be nothing."

"So no," he took a small step closer. "I can’t tell you I don’t like you. I can’t tell you to walk away. And I sure as hell won't let you believe you don't deserve me. Because I’ve wanted you for so long it hurts."

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The air in your lungs felt too thick to breathe. Your heart pounded so loudly it was all you could hear.

Robby turned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking like he'd said too much. "Fuck," he murmured, more to the floor than to you. Flushed and flustered, he avoided your gaze.

You took two steps forward before he could retreat further, reaching for his arm to turn him back toward you. His eyes widened as you closed the distance, your hands rising to cup his face. And then, without hesitation, you pulled him down into a kiss that stole the breath from both your lungs.

It was the kind of kiss that felt like exhaling after holding your breath for far too long. The kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The kind that lit you up from the inside, filling your chest with a warmth that rivaled that of the summer sun.

His hands found your waist, slow and steady, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold you just right. His lips met yours with a hesitation that lasted only a heartbeat—then deepened with an urgency that betrayed just how long he’d been holding this in.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was longing, laid bare. It was months—years—of pining and restraint breaking all at once, the dam cracking open under the weight of everything unspoken. His touch was reverent, but there was heat behind it—fingers flexing against your waist, your body pulled flush to his, your heart pounding loud enough to echo between you.

It was want and ache and finally, finally, the rawness of two people crashing into the truth. And in the wreckage, something beautiful bloomed.

Like glass shattering. Like a black hole collapsing in and swallowing itself in its entirety. Like coming home.

When you pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours. You stayed there for a moment, sharing the same breath, the same space, the weight of what had just been said still lingering between you.

"Okay," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. "Now what?"

He gave a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Whatever you want. Seriously. You name it. I'm yours. "

You opened your eyes, searching his face for a flicker of doubt, but found only warmth. Affection. Devotion.

So you kissed him again—slow and deliberate, like you were trying to memorize the feeling of being wanted back.

And in that kiss, Robby was overwhelmed. His mind tried to keep up with the moment, with the way your hands fit so perfectly against his skin, the way you leaned into him like you belonged there. He’d spent months—years, maybe—compartmentalizing his feelings, convincing himself he was too old, too cautious, too responsible to ever deserve something this good.

But now, with you here, kissing him like your heart depended on it, all he could think was: don’t let this be a dream. Every part of him responded to you—your warmth, your trust, the way you pulled him closer like he was something worth reaching for.

He deepened the kiss for just a moment, like he needed to prove something—maybe to you, maybe to himself. Then, softer again, he let it slow.

His lips brushed yours once more before he whispered against your mouth, "Would you like to spend the evening with me tonight? Properly?"

You laughed softly, breath catching on the sound. "I would love nothing more, Dr. Robinavitch."

For a while, you stayed there—wrapped in the hush of the moment, hearts finally in sync. Outside, the ER carried on. Papers shuffled. Doors swung open and closed. Monitors beeped. But inside that room, time slowed. The world could wait a little longer.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr. robby #michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #noah wyle #dr robby imagine #the pitt spoilers #dr. robby x reader #dr robby x you #the pitt imagine #michael robinavitch imagine #jack abbot

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nianeyemystic · 11 months ago

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Sextrology Observation 💦🤤😈

Where Saturn is placed in your chart, can show you what prevents you from being able to cum

- please keep in mind these are my OWN interpretations. they may or may not resonate with you, and that’s okay. I’m open to opinions & conversations however let’s keep it cute (rudeness is not acceptable in this safe space ) & learn from one another. Please do not copy of plagiarize , any reblogs & shares are greatly appreciated. This information may help somebody 🥰

Saturn in 1H:

You can be in your head alot during sex, you have to learn to let go so your body can feel & relax. it’s sometimes hard for you to experience emoting freely in front of others. Also how you feel about yourself & the person

Saturn in 2H:

Your self esteem. Your confidence an what you value can be a huge factor here. You should do affirmations, listen to sensual music before or even have your partner engage in praise kinks & compliment you during.

Saturn in 3H

Inability to communicate what you need & desire during sex. Communication is key here for you, you can limit yourself to cumming just based on lack thereof. Your partner may not know how to please you unless you say it.

Saturn in 4H:

Your emotional needs, home life & even sense of security with your partner. A lack of stimulation surrounding the home environment you’re in during. Maybe try changing up the atmosphere.

Saturn in 5H:

You place a lot of pressure on yourself during, there needs to be a balance of this is a devoted action & something fun & creative. Try new positions, have exploration in the bedroom & music / good vibes are needed.

Saturn in 6H:

You’re too focused on work maybe. Or your career is heavily on your mind during sex. Also if you’re not in good health mentally or physically this can hinder you as well in the bedroom. Try to meditate, do breathing exercises & completely change out of “work mode” before engaging

Saturn in 7H:

The need to feel secure in your relationship. Their needs to be reciprocal loyalty & commitment before you can release. Your relationships can deeply effect your sensuality so be careful who you’re getting into bed with

Saturn in 8H:

Your sexuality may have been something you’re ashamed of before. Maybe you’ve held onto view around sex as taboo, or have not gotten fully comfortable with exploring your sexuality. The right healing work & sexual expression will help you get there. Sacral chakra & Root Chakra yoga could help here

Saturn in 9H:

You may be too intense or focused on your intellectual pursuits. Sex has be to stimulating for your mind as well. So maybe conversations that lead to sec should involve topics like expansion, travel & self discovery. Or you could need to engage in more of those to feel sexually aroused

Saturn in 10H:

Reputation of the person your having sex with & maybe even their social status could effect you here. Maybe try finding partners who fit the ideal you’re attracted to in social world or simply forget about that & let go.

Saturn in 11H

The money & income of either yourself or your partner could effect your sexual stimulation. Even the social circles you hang in. If you’re attracted to a person but his/her friend group doesn’t align you maybe turned off. Also patience, you might be rushing the act to get there. Take your time

Saturn in 12H:

Your intuition will tell you everything. So if you’re not aligned spiritually, or have some sort of connection with a partner you could hav trouble cumming. Sex should be a sacred & devoted practice. Also your needs for solitude might be a huge indicator of not being able to cum

@nianeyemystic

#sextrology #sex astrology #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astro tumblr #synastry aspects #love astrology #astro community #astrology aspects #lovers astrology #mysticism #random astrology notes

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lufyuu · 2 months ago

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,,Homesick''

Tw/s: gore-ish, mentions of blood, hate-love, reader is NOT a good individual, very rough sex, marking (several times), aphrodisiac effects, reader fucked into unconsciousness, overstimulation, possessiveness, semi rushed.

Part 1 | Part 2

Huff huff, a man huffs and puffs, trying to catch his breath while running as if someone or something is chasing him. He doesn't even look back, not wanting to know what would face him. This time, he intends on never getting caught. Never getting locked up. It would be the first and last time he'd ever get caught. He promises himself that.

Not even a month ago, he spotted a mysterious cloaked figure spying on him through the window of the bedroom. That wasn't the scariest part. The thing that scared him the most was that the bedroom is located on the top floor. As 'fearless' as the man claims to be, this experience shook him up. It reminded him of the man who had been keeping him captive yet...the vibes were different. This figure had a dark presence whereas Zihao had am

The man had even memorized the servants' schedules in order to get out of that wretched manor.

But despite all his efforts in running, the woods seem endless. The sun was still shining brightly when he first escaped but now dusk approaches, the sun dipping slowly but noticeably. The man thought that he would be out of the woods by now but no. He's stuck in these seemingly endless woods. The longer time went on, the more nervous he became. He had always been the hunter and not the hunted. Hell, he doesn't even know if someone is hunting him. He just knows he wants to get far far away from the place. Even if he's having second thoughts every now and then, he stays determined to find the exit out of these woods. The man has gone through countless woods before, what's one more?

Just as the sun sets, the tired man hears the sound of cars..! This is his chance to finally rid himself of the chains which have been holding him back all this time.

"S-sir..!," He almost drops to the dirty ground, clutching his stomach as he limps towards the now pulled over car. He has his head down incase the driver does recognize him. With his body drenched in sweat, the oblivious man falls for his deceit. "What the..are you okay!?," the man instantly gets out of the car, approaching the 'injured' man who just emerged from the woods. It was dangerous, especially when night's about to come. As the man got closer, he realized that the other had no blood coming out the part they were clutching but before he could question it, the latter, with a swift move, slices his throat with a sharp stick. As expected, the man falls down, his body lifeless and limp as a pool of his own blood started to form. "That was too easy," the escapee finally stands up straight with a smirk. Even after all this time, he hasn't lost his touch.

He picks up the body and effortlessly throws it into the woods, not caring if it's found or not. All he wants now is to breathe more of this fresh air and get the fuck out of there.

All the murderer had to do was turn the keys and the vehicle started. As he stared into the rearview mirror, he saw the infamous serial killer whom everyone thought was off the streets, staring back at him. [Name] [L.Name].

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

A couple months has passed since that incident and the streets are bloodier than ever. Your skills and knife grow sharper day by day. Because of you, the streets went from being lively to somewhat gloomy. With everyone always looking over their shoulders in case anyone tries to sneak up on them. Or incase they see you, lurking in the dark. Everyone's been begging the police to search harder for the fugitive but no matter how hard they look, they can't seem to find you. You've learned from your previous mistake. It's something you plan on never repeating again.

The public has been more pressure than ever on Zihao specifically. People think he let you go on purpose due to his very unusual sentencing a few months back. In turn, Zihao has become easily irritable, it's made clear by the way he's been sentecing caught criminals.

Trespassing on private property? 3 years with a $3000 fine. Shoplifting? 4 years—you get the point. Hell he even sentenced someone for slandering his name in his courtroom. 10 years without probation.

Despite his very odd behaviour the past few months, nobody questioned. They only saw it as him stressing over the fact you've escaped under his watch. 'It was probably humiliating for him,' 'he must be trying to save face,' people thought. But it was far from the truth. It's true he wanted you back but he didnt feel humiliated, rather, he felt worried, angry. Zihao wanted to know why you would run away from him when he has given you nothing but the best. He wants you back within reach, to feel you against him once more. As each day passed without your precious face next to him when he awakes, without your menacing glare, without your venom, the worry in his chest only grew. He couldn't think straight without you within reach. Just how did you get away..? He had set up a whole barrier incase you tried to flee so why did it break?

The more Zihao thought about your escape, the more questions he had. It shouldn't have been possible and yet you were gone. Nowhere to be found despite his efforts in tracking you down. His beloved, out there, avoiding him. How his heart hurted like never before.

Somewhere outside the city, you had made yourself rather comfortable, getting back the old life you were forced to leave. Though, you didn't have the luxury you were so accustomed to. Everything felt a bit odd but that was just the price for freedom. Who were you to complain now that your freedom's back? You can unleash bloodshed whenever and however you want now!

...But gosh all this freedom wasn't as amazing as you expected. It was hard getting adjusted to your newfound freedom. You often find yourself questioning that mysterious cloaked man's identity. He hadn't done anything but it was still creepy and weird for him to be staring at you through the window like that. Though, those questions didn't have your full attention as because you had gotten so used to your life with bastard of a judge, you would occasionally be curled up craving someone's touch. To have their hands all over you and fuck you good. You tried ignoring your tent for as long as you could but gave in eventually. Even as your hand pumped your hard cock, you just didn't get the same satisfaction you had gotten with Zihao. Not as if you'd ever admit it though. Eventually, you decided to hook up with some prostitutes, perhaps they'd provide the same satisfaction.

Oh you were so wrong. Not only were they terrified of you once they had learned of your name, they couldn't even fuck you right. The more they tried to please you, the more you got annoyed until their heads inevitably splurted out thick crimson liquid. A whole mess for the staff to clean up but at least you did them a favour by getting rid of an incompetent worker.

On one of those bloody nights, you decided to go out on a stroll after a gruesome kill. "Tch," you clicked your tongue, "this is tiny as hell," you said with one hand in your pocket while the other was holding a mutilated dick of the man you had just murdered. Throwing it away in a discrete area and snickering as it falls down, hitting the ground. You were far enough from the crime scene to be able to stroll worry free. The night was still young, being only midnight, you wonder what else you could do.

The downside of being a known and wanted fugitive was that _everyone_ knew your face. Making it harder for you to navigate around. "Hah, what a pain...," you say as the thought took over your mind. Life was much simpler back then. Back with Zihao. "Fuck!" You kick over some rock at the thought of your captor. You can imagine his smirking face so clearly. But it's all in your head. That bastard's been in your mind all week and it's just pissing you off. Your heart and body longs for his while your brain longs to see the man's head chopped and served on a platter to you.

You shake your head, perishing the thought and thought about something, anything to do. Something interesting.

That's when you notice a random gust of wind accompanied by a strange and large shadow. It wasn't small enough to be an animal that's for sure. It couldn't be a bear as you're not even near any forests. Without saying word, you turn around, looking everywhere to find the source of that strange wind. When you find nothing, you sigh, perhaps your head's playing tricks on you again. Not a surprise, you've surely just gone insane because of the whole captive situation with Zihao. Right..?

"Fuck, maybe I should just get back," you mumble and start to walk faster to the direction of wherever you'd stay for the night.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The list of missing people and victims grew almost endless. Their bodies mutilated in a way nobody could ever imagine. It was definitely the work of a fucked up maniac. One such as yourself. Well, it was your work anyways. You made sure nobody else could take the credit after working so hard on those bodies.

Your merciless and brutal murders scared even the most fearless men. They'd cower at the sight of you which motivated you even more. No more staying at home, no more being locked up, no more Zihao. Just the way you liked it. Right?

You wish you meant the last part but even in your sick head, you felt something akin to homesickness. Maybe that's not the right word. You just felt lost. After so long of living in luxury and having someone tend to your every need, you craved it slightly. Even if it was at the cost of your freedom. But wasn't it better than being a wanted runaway? Zihao no longer had control of you, though. It's all you've ever wanted. There's no way you miss his soft touch, gentle kisses— gosh what were you even thinking. Did he place some sort of spell on you? You're [Name] [L.Name]. A brutal serial murderer. You have no time for these trivial feelings. They were never a problem so why now?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You were restless that night. Plagued with all sorts of nightmares involving him...but oddly, he was the one who saved you from this unknown figure each time before dissapearing from your grasp. You would wake up with cold sweat from just a mere nightmare. Panting, trying to catch your breath as you wake up in a hurry, looking around to see if anyone was near, looking for the cause of that vivid nightmare but..nothing.

And it continued to be like that for the next week. Each time the figure felt closer and closer. You knew it was all in your head but it just felt so..real. Even after all this time the question still lingers in your mind, just who is that mysterious man? Hells, the only reason you knew it was a man was because of his deep voice which sounded almost like an animal's growl the first time you heard it. You wanted to dig more into it but found it hard as you had no leads. Even as a serial murderer such as yourself, that figure had shaken you up. How was it that someone could rescue you so fast and swiftly while you spent several months inside that prison-like manor without a chance of escape? Though, these questions didn't prevent you from doing your weekly murder. Why would it anyway?

To be fair, it was also your way of getting things off your mind.

After catching your breath, you finally calm down enough to decide it's time to get ready for the day. Going out in the day was no easy feat for a wanted criminal such as you. You have to wear outfits or accessories that can hide your face or at least half of it while not standing out. You much prefer the night's embrace. You could walk around freely by that time of day.

Walking out of your hideout, you expected to see the sun shining as always but it looked rather gloomy. Something about it was very off. Perhaps a storm was coming? No that's not right..it looks different than a storm. Even the vibes you were getting weren't great. "It's fine, the weather's just a bit weird sometimes." You try to reassure yourself, it's not something to worry about. Step by step, you walk around the city, making sure to avoid the busier parts filled with officers out looking for you. While looking around, you notice that there were more officers patrolling than usual. You knew they were trying hard to locate you but the amount of officers were ridiculous. Even more so as it was only for one person. "If Judge Liu wanted to find me so badly, he should've patrolled himself," you say to yourself while shrugging.

Though, something was off. Very off. The city folks seemed more wary somehow. Have they already found the mutilated body? There's no way, you would have heard of it by now. Plus, there wasn't this big of a reaction when your other victims were found in a worse state. Speaking of...there were more people walking around than usual. Ever since you've been on the run, the city folks avoided going out, resulting in the city being uncrowded. But today, everyone seemed to be gathering for some unknown reason. You'd expect a crowd of this size to be loud and full of life but all you hear are murmurs. It's very eerie even by your standards.

Asking around whilst keeping your identity hidden, you find out that Judge Liu has...vanished. It's as if he just dissapeared. The revelation should have made you jump with joy but it didn't. Somehow, you felt a lump in your throat, your heart drops at the news. Zihao...is gone? Just like that? "There's no way." You tried to convince yourself despite your foot tapping and your palms starting to sweat a bit. It's a joke, isn't it? He's a dragon and this city's respected judge, he wouldn't just dissapear like that. Were your dreams becoming a reality—no, no. There's just no way.

Taking a few steps forward, you were too lost in your thoughts to notice the tall man infront of you. As you bump into him, he stops in his tracks and so do you. "Tch." You let out, you were already feeling conflicted and this just set you off. Without hesitation, you try to walk around him, ignoring his presence as much as possible. A grip on your wrist causes you to hold a dagger at his throat. Looking up at the stranger, you're shocked to look into the same eyes you did all those months ago. The man who had helped you fulfill your wishes. Him.

The hesitation gives him enough time to knock the dagger out of your hand and also pull you in just close enough for your eyes to roam around his face, taking note of his unusually bright red eyes with a slit as a pupil and the many many scars he has on him. Particularly the slit he has from his left mouth to cheek. "We meet again, Zihao's little mate." 'Little mate.'

With a swing of your fist, you manage to knock him square in the jaw which forces him to let go of your hands, almost pushing you away in the process. You were nothing if not your brute force and precision. "The fuck did you say." As you were about to deliver another blow, an unknown force stops you. His eyes glowing even more. Unluckily for you, everyone was far too focused with one another to see or hear this exchange between the two of you. You wanted to kick but that didn't work either. "Feisty. Though, I wonder why dearest Zihao chose you out of all the other humans." He tilts his head in amusement, seeing your angry expression. "Don't look at me like that sweetheart, you're flattering me," his tone teasing as he releases you from his magical grasp. Your heart drops at a thought. What if Zihao dissapeared because of him..?

"All this talk about Zihao, are you obsessed with that bastard like all the others?" You snarl at the man, showing aggression. He's silent for a moment, eyes a bit wide before bursting out in laughter. "Hah...me? Obsessed with that old man? You're funny," he stops laughing, "I want that motherfucker dead." His expression suddely serious, eyes so full of hate that even you can't comprehend it. "And I know you hate him too, despite being...marked by the guy sooo why don't we take him down together hm?" He offers and you lift up an eyebrow, why would he want to team up with you? He's shown what he's capable of alreay. Magic. Despite your reputation, you are still a human afterall. "I know what you're wondering, you're a mortal yada yada but you're different don't you get it? I mean, it's not everyday you come across a famed and escaped serial killer now is it?" He looks at you expecting a nod but you don't do anything, leaving him sighing. "Are you in or not? I could just slaughter him myself—" "I'm in." You finally answer. Maybe this way you won't feel conflicted about him anymore. Maybe this was the solution all along.

Leading you away from the city, the two of you trek into the deep forest, the sound of leaves crunching and branches snapping were the only sounds that could be heard. "Where are we going," You ask suspiciously, looking around for any sort of trap. "Oh don't be so impatient, you'll see soon enough, [Name]." The man is relaxed but you're not done asking questions. "Since you know my name, what's yours?" You look expectantly at him, waiting for an answer. A name. Maybe you'd even recognize it. His expression is oddly not the usual smirk he has. It takes a few seconds of silence before he states his name, "call me Zarek." Zarek smiles at you while the two of you continue the long walk. It's an unfamiliar name, you've never heard it before but something about it makes you uneasy.

As the two of you walk, you begin to feel as if you were reaching your destination. The homesickness was going away. This change of feeling showed on your face with Zarek taking notice. "You feel it don't you? His presence growing near. It's giving you comfort huh?" He looks at you with a mad expression, more than slightly amused at your expression and body language. Before long he's laughing to himself, enjoying your uneasiness. "What the fuck are you laughing at," You say, facing him, it's more of a threat than anything. All of a sudden he stops, his laugh stopping with his steps.

Your eyes widen to see the sight infront of you. Zihao, chained up. His legs chained while his hands were cuffed. His usual calm demeanor was gone as his eyes met yours. A look of anger spreads on his face as he turns to look at Zarek. "What's with this." "I'm merely helping you out, brother. See your beloved here?" He grabs your chin and hand, making sure you're not able to attack him. "His soul looks absolutely delectable. I just wanted you to see me devour him whole." With your legs, you try to kick him but to no avail.

"I know you've grown weak without your precious mate, Zihao. How does it feel to see him so close and yet out of reach?" Zarek smirks at the restrained dragon who's glaring sharply at him. "He's already marked, Zarek." Zihao warns but his brother doesn't seem to care. "Well, you seem to forget, Zihao. A normal mark like this on a mortal can be overlapped by another," he has a smug look as he says this before turning towards you, "honestly, I was planning on just killing you after a taste of freedom but..," he trails off, his hand cupping your face, "this feels more satisfying."

As you go to stab the man, he stops you by sinking his teeth into your neck, freezing you in place as pain takes over. Just a split second after that, you break out of the trance and find the strength to push him away hard enough that he falls. "Holy shit you're just as insane as him," you say, referring to the man just a few feet away from the two of you. He had biten deep enough to draw blood. Your neck aches, a throbbing pain radiates from the bite. You'd never gotten attacked before, you were always the hunter, not the prey.

The man on the ground doesn't make an effort to get up. He only licks the remaining blood on his lips. "I can definitely see why Zihao loved you so dearly to even keep you away from his family. You're too delicious to share." "You fuc—" your words are cut off by the sudden sensation your body is hit by. Your face contort as your body begins to feel oddly hot, "what the actual fuck did you do to me..!" You barely had any energy to yell the words out as your legs were almost giving out. It was then that Zarek finally got up from the ground, approaching you as you backed away, closing the distance between you and Zihao.

Zarek snatches you into his arms, almost as if holding you hostage as your back is pressed against his. You to your left to see his maniacal expression, he looks as if he's about to devour you full. "This is going to be a lot of fun," he can barely contain the excitement in his voice. Zihao's eyes widen in anger as Zarek's hand roam around your body ss you were helpless. All you wanted to do was stab him right now but you weren't in control of your body.

You close your eyes, wanting this shit to just end already when everything went...quiet. well, except the spund of something tumbling on the leaves. The disgusting hands once on you were gone. When you open your eyes once more, you see that Zihao has somehow broken free of his restraints, his horns and tail out and about. You look behind to see Zarek's dead body. His body pratically sliced in half as his eyes are wide open.

You didn't know how to react as the sensation still hadn't faded. Zihao instantly ran towards you, both his hands cupping your face, looking into your eyes, "[Name]." He says your name, over and over again, as if desperate and not wanting to lose you. You've never seen him in this state. "You're never leaving my side, ever fucking again." His voice changes, you feel weak under his gaze. You're too out of it to even protest even when you really want to. "Zihao...," you call out in almost desperation in your voice. Zihao notices the tent in your pants, realizing what the effects were. "That fuckward." He says, malice in his voice.

"Goddammit, just fuck me right now!" You grab his collar and initiate a kiss. It's deep and full of lust. You haven't felt his lips in so long. The contact drives you crazy. His soft lips against yours. His long tongue which pushes itself into your mouth and almost down your throat.

The two of you break the kiss. "Let's go back home—" "no. Fuck me right here, right now, bastard." Zihao looks at you with lust filled eyes. It's clear he's been holding back, thinking of you. "[Name]. I won't stop even if you ask me to."

In just a few minutes, one of his dicks is already deep inside you. You're being held up by him, your back against a tree as your legs are limp. One on his shoulder as the other layed limp in his hand, wrapped by his long tail. Your pants long discarded while he still had his on low enough to let his cocks out. "[Name] you don't know how long I've been waiting." His voice is full of anger and lust, thrusting into you roughly and with an inhuman speed, not caring for your screams. If someone were to walk even a few miles into the forest, they would hear your wonderful moans. Even as your fingernails dig into his flesh, he doesn't seem to feel it as he's only focusing on fucking you so full of cum that you don't even think of escaping ever again.

The purple mark on your lower stomach which has dissapeared before, reappeared and this time, it's going to stay. "You're mine, all mine, nobody else can take you." He then bites into the same area Zarek had bitten, making you arch, your eyes wide but the sensation wasn't really painful, it somehow filled you with bliss. You felt safe, protected. You leaned your head on his shoulder as he continued to pound your ass.

"Hah...agh mm..Zihao!" You screamed out his name, indicating you were close to your climax. Soon enough, you came as he continued his powerful thrusts. Having just came, you were even more sensitive. Your body trembling, "you're still so...tight even after all this fucking. Hah...Gods, you were really made for me." His thrusts went even faster as he chased his own climax, the sound if your ass being pounded so hard clear as day.

He cums inside of you, no cum escapes as he leave his cock inside, plugging your hole. Just as you were about to catch your breath, his second cock entered slowly but surely. You close your eyes, bracing for the pain of it all. After both of his cocks are in, you felt too full to even talk. You've felt this multiple times before but it still manages to surprise you each time. "I-it's too much..ah..," you moan as he lifts you up, leaving just the tips of his cocks in, "I need to claim you fully," was all Zihao said before he thrusts all the way into you, balls deep. You scream at the sensation, so full of cock. As he thrusts in and out, you can hear squelching noises as his cum practically acted as lube. His grunts indicated how pleasured he is, fucking you so hard. Your beautiful noises encouraging him even more.

"Don't ever, ever...agh..Leave me again." He says, his words having a hint of desperation, wanting to hold you even closer than right now even if it's impossible. "M..mhm..aCK—" his cocks manage to hit your spot just right, making you see stars. Your mind goes blank. Zihao notices this and takes advantage of it. He thrusts deep inside to hit your prostate on purpose. You could only lay limp and take all of it, moaning so much you know you'll lose your voice the day after. The dragon's grunts accompanied by his fast and rough pounding manages to make you even more horny. "Only you can handle me, [Name]," he states and you know it's a fact. Who else would be able to take two cocks at once? Certainly not anyone you know.

He squeezes your thigh with his hand, his nails almost digging into your skin. Due to the pain and pleasure of taking both cocks, you bite down on his neck, leaving an equal mark. But, you don't let go even after tasting his blood. It has a metalic taste just like any other but you were almost addicted to it after the first taste. The flavour is just...enticing.

Zihao barely noticed his flesh being pierced by your teeth, the amount of pleasure he was in just fucking you was indescribable. How could he even focus on anything else but your tight walls squeezing around his cocks? He wanted to pump you so full of cum you could never walk again. So that you would always remain by his side. Never to escape again.

After several deep thrusts, the two of you cum at the same time with him cumming inside while you splurt all over the both of you. "AGH...!aH!" You moan as loud as your voice could, Zihao moaning with you as he felt himself unload inside. Even as he's cumming, he's still thrusting as if there's no tomorrow. "Z-zihao AhHhhHh..." You didn't even have a chance to protest. You were already too weak to yell at him for his relentless thrusts.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"You've been awfully..agh, quiet, [Name]," Zihao says with a smug look on his face, clearly knowing why that was the case. "You're practically drooling now." And that, you were. Your body limp whilst Zihao pounded your redish hole over and over again, leaving you no room to take a breather. You knew he loved to fuck multiple times in a row but..this has got to be a world record! His libido is insane. You couldn't even think of that as your brain was practically mush now, leaving you no room for thought that wasn't about the judge infront of you right now. Maybe oh just maybe if you hadn't gotten caught a few months back, you wouldn't be here today, being stuffed so full and fucked so dumb that nobody would ever think of you as the dangerous serial murderer you actually were. Or maybe that is what Judge Liu wants.

Your mind can barely process his words after he stops thrusting. "[Name], take a good look." He points below, prompting you to look at the direction of his finger. What you see if your belly swollen, full of cocks and cum as there's droplets of cum flowing out of your hole as you couldn't take anymore inside. You could kill 100 men and it wouldn't feel this tiring, as you look up at him, he grabs your chin to face him. "You're forever mine. Don't forget it, my mate." Before long, you close your eyes, falling unconscious.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

When you awoke, you found yourself in the same room you had desperately tried to escape from months back. But this time, you felt more at home than anything. You knew better than to get up, just moving around slightly ached. "Fuck fuck fuck." You curse at nobody in particular as every part of your body hurted like shit. Well at least your hole's not dripping with cum anymore. "Where the fuck is that bastard," the words fall out of your mouth naturally, referring to the culprit, Liu Zihao.

Footsteps can be heard as someone's walking closer and closer to your room. Speak of the devil. Before long, in walks the Judge Liu in all his glory with...a tray of food and drink? "[Name], you're awake," he says, his voice as delicate as flower qs he approaches you with the tray, setting it on the table next to you. "Here, you've been out for long." He goes to feed you some water, holding it up to your mouth as you slowly get up, sitting upright on the bed even if it hurts. "Take a sip at least." He waits until you drink almost half of it due to dehydration. "Hah, what would the people say seeing the Judge Liu feeding a murderer a drink?" You smirk at the guy as he sets the water down. He looks back at you with a sigh. "Don’t ever leave me again. You know the dangers. Especially after facing Zarek. He's sure to return once more." Upon hearing this, you were confused, "he's dead though, you sliced that fucker in half, I saw." "We dragons are different, even if our physical bodies are destroyed, we can come back so long as..nevermind. Just know that he'll be back for you so..stay."

"As if! I enjoyed my freedom to the fullest." You were lying through your teeth. You had felt a piece of you missing when you were away from him, you were definitely homesick—but of course you wouldn't tell him that!

Zihao looks at you with a displeased look before moving like the flash. In just a moment, your hands are pinned to the headboard as your legs parted to make room for his figure. "Then maybe I'll have to fuck that rebellion out of you." He licks his lips with his elongated serpent tongue, his eyes already glowing as the slits became even more visible. You shivered, knowing what was about to happen. Maybe it was out of excitement or perhaps fear.

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Guess who's back!! Finally! I'm so sorry for making you guys wait so long, I was super swarmed by work💔🫠

#bottom male reader #oc x male reader #x male reader #male reader #xin's liu zihao ☆#「By the hands of Xin」

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boofeine · 5 months ago

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kinky things that make seventeen members more aroused during sex

WARNINGS: mdni, smut headcanons, afab reader, cum play, breeding kink, bondage, restraining, overstimulation, role play, edging, pain kink, orgasm dinal, spanking, choking

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @kooqitas @unlikelysublimekryptonite

seungcheol – cum play and breeding; it has to be raw sex... there's nothing seungcheol loves more than feel your walls pulsating around his cock. the way he can see his hot cum spurr on your ass cheek or on your breast, belly, neck, anywhere really. sometimes, when he feels a little risky, he can't help but ask to cum inside you, the way your cums mixed comes out of your clenching hole when he finally pulls out, he's done but he's ready to get hard again.

jeonghan – having to keep quiet; it's all about the teasing, he loves seeing you suffer to keep it down when it feels so good. your lips caged in your teeth as small whines treats to come out, "is it too much, babe?", he would tease with a devilish smirk, testing all your limits by restraining your high until you can't take it anymore. when you're finally coming undone, he loves to press his palm over your mouth or demand you to bite him to not moan too loud.

joshua – multiple orgasm; like... HEAR ME OUT!! he likes to take his time with you, he's so gentle, with no rush at all. sometimes, it's not even on purpose, but he's edging you so much, that when it finally comes, you cum and cum and cum again. his stamina is crazy and he won't stop until he's satisfied. you squirm and sweat under his workship, "are you tired? i haven't even started with you yet, lay down again for me".

junhui – role play; see, he just gives me those vibes. he'd feel embarrassed at first, but once you fully clock him in, he'd be obsessed. specially, scenarios where you're doming him, he fucking lose his mind... use him, step on him, anything, he's rock hard under your actions. as he grows used to it, he even asks you to get costumized for it, getting really in character, he loves sexy costumes and lacy fantasies.

soonyoung – pain kink; is it new for anyone? hoshi, himself, said he works better under pressure. he loves the spanking and the degradation, he squirms and growls because of you, but it also makes him want to do a better job... if not to make you fully satisfied, he's not doing anything. i see hoshi enjoying face slapping, rough gripping like grabbing his cheeks and jaw while he's on his knees for you, thumb slowly making its way inside his mouth as you laugh at how pathetic he looks for you.

wonwoo – edging; sometimes he's in his mean mode, he normally is sweet and passionate during sex but breaking a sweat to make you beg him to let you cum is one of his favorites. the way you wrap your legs around his hips, rolling yours as you bumble breathy words in between "please", he never cums harder, pinning you down on the mattress to stop you from running, his core pressing over your clit as wonwoo alternates in rough thrusts and slow ones. it makes you almost cry for his mercy.

jihoon – being loud; different from jeonghan, he loves to hear you loud and clear, it bust his ego that he's doing such a good job at delivering pleasure. it could get him off guard at first, too afraid someone would hear, his cheeks flushing, as you scream your moans. but he grows attached to it, it turned into his breaking point every sex, he always pounds harder just to hear you. "is it that good, huh? fuck! let me hear you"

seokmin – overstimulation; especially during oral, he loves the way your legs close on his head when it's too much, how you whine, whimper, and cry out his name. how the grip you have on him always tighten when you say it's too much and that you can't cum anymore. he snugs to your arms, sweetly saying you're a good girl and that he knows you can take it. your pussy swollen and hurt as he whispers "just one more, give it to me" but it's never the last. he loves to treat you well before he gets anything, he gets hard just by pleasing and hearing you.

mingyu – getting tied up; just give this man some handcuffs, put him tied on the bed headboard, i swear he'd cum by just you using him while he's not able to do anything. he likes the frustration, the way he always tries to break free just to touch you as you look at him, tutting and disapproving his not so well behavior. he always cum faster than anything when you use his cock as your fuck toy on your cunt.

minghao – blindfold; he enjoys doing it on you, you always get more out of breath and sensitive when he gets you blindfold. the thrill of it making goosebumps form easily, anticipating every move he might do next. he's obsessed at seeing you so vulnerable, you look nothing but innocent those times. your low moans and whines, he swears you're heaven sent, bumping his length as he touches your body, watching you react shakily, watching you gets him wetter.

seungkwan – rage sex and spanking; not a surprise either... he almost never fights with you, but if there's a good outcome to those fights, it is how frustrated you both get and pull out during the makeup deed. it goes both ways, he likes both, you doming him or him doming you, either way is intense. the choking, the slapping, the way the words turn just a bit bratty and aggressive. he manhandles you like you're born to be his little light doll, changing positions and throwing you around on the bed sheets.

vernon – bringing more people to the game; yes, he's into it. he's up for the threesome always, more than three people, he'd ponder, though. he likes every different aspect of it, just sitting back and watching, or being watched, or mixing positions. it adds to the sex and he's up to it. he's not a jealous guy but normally sets to making the things to you and just receiving for the third person, maybe that's what also arouses him so much, he doesn't gotta do much to cum.

chan – orgasm denial; more precise, being the one receiving it. he enjoys the feeling of his red sensative cockhead burning and dripping pre cum every time you stop him from cumming. the way it hurts just a bit and enough to make him roll his eyes when he finally cums. he won't cum until you say he can and that alone, that hold of power you have on him, makes him tight on his ball. but he's good, he's so well-behaved, you must treat him well.

#was wannabelife #seventeen #fanfic #svt headcanons #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut

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tinytinyblogs · 6 months ago

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Darling, i'm sorry..

After a fight, they need to make things right with you.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 Finally, my mind kicked into gear and I was able to post a reaction, hoping it’s good enough, just like I thought it would be.

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Bang Chan

He’s always been someone who takes his responsibilities incredibly seriously, to the point where it consumes him. Every task, big or small, is something he approaches with a sense of duty and focus, leaving no room for jokes or lightness. This intense pressure is something he’s put on himself for years, striving for perfection in everything he does. But sometimes, that pressure builds up too much, and it overwhelms him. That day, everything seemed to come crashing down at once. Feeling stressed and frustrated, he lashed out, snapping at you to shut up and stop bothering him, even though you weren't the source of his stress. The moment he saw your face change—your smile gone and the hurt in your eyes as you quietly walked away—he immediately realized he had made a mistake. Guilt washed over him the second he saw you turn, knowing he had taken his stress out on the wrong person. But by then, the damage was done, and there was nothing he could do to take back those words.

Later that same day, the weight of his actions gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the guilt that had been eating away at him since the moment you walked away. He knew he had to make things right, so he rushed to your house, heart pounding with anxiety and regret. When he arrived and saw you sitting on your bed, quietly sobbing, his heart sank. The sight of you in pain because of him, knowing he had caused it, made his chest ache. He had been too harsh, too scary in his anger, and now, seeing the aftermath of that moment, it hurt him even more. He approached slowly, his usual confidence replaced with hesitation. Gently, he sat down beside you on the bed, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight. His hand reached out, trembling just a bit, and he softly stroked your head, his fingers brushing through your hair as if trying to comfort you with just a touch. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice low and filled with genuine remorse. There was a gentleness to his tone, something tender and caring, all the things he should’ve shown earlier but hadn’t.

"I shouldn’t have shooed you away like that," he continued, the regret evident in every word. His hand moved to yours, fingers wrapping around it, holding it tightly as if he was afraid to let go. After a moment of silence, he couldn’t bear the distance between you anymore, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close in a warm, protective hug. His embrace was firm but full of love, as if trying to shield you from the pain he had caused. "I won’t do that again," he murmured into your hair, his voice soft but sincere. "I love you, you know that, right?" There was an almost pleading tone in his voice, as if he needed you to believe him, to forgive him. Holding you close, he silently promised himself to never let his anger hurt you like that again, vowing to do better, to be better, because he couldn’t stand the thought of ever making you cry like that again. After that day, he made sure to give you his full attention, always making time to show his love. He pampered you with affection—cuddling, whispering sweet things, and holding you close. Through every hug and kiss, he let you know how sorry he was and how much he loved you, making sure you always felt cherished.

Minho

That day, Minho had been feeling unusually sensitive, weighed down by a lot of things running through his mind. He was overwhelmed, and in his frustration, he pushed you away. His expression was intense, his eyes almost scary as he shut himself off from you. Hurt by his actions, you turned and walked away, the beginnings of tears welling up in your eyes. In that moment, Minho thought he needed space, time to be alone and sort out everything going on in his head. But as the minutes passed, he began to realize that being away from you only made him feel emptier. Slowly, the walls he'd put up started to crumble, and despite still clinging to a bit of his pride, he knew deep down that he needed to be close to you. His heart ached, missing your presence, your warmth. Without fully realizing it, his feet carried him in your direction. Even though he was still caught up in his own stubbornness, he couldn’t ignore the pull toward you—the longing to hold you, to feel you near once more.

Once Minho stepped inside your place, he knew exactly what to expect. The silent treatment wasn’t a surprise—he deserved it. Without a word, he made his way straight to the kitchen, moving quietly as he began to prepare your favorite meal his mind was racing as he cooked, trying to find the right words, maybe because he's not someone who’s very vocal about his feelings.. Cooking was one of the few ways he knew how to show his apology without speaking too soon. Once the food was ready, he carefully carried it to the bedroom, where you were sitting quietly his eyes instantly soften the moment he sees you standing there. He placed the dish in front of you, the aroma filling the room. There was a heavy silence as his eyes stayed on you, trying to read your mood, to figure out the right moment to say something. Finally, his voice broke the stillness, soft and almost hesitant. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I know I shouldn't have treated you like that." As he spoke, his hand gently found its way to your cheek, his thumb softly brushing against your skin. "Eat, it's still warm," he urged, his words tender but filled with care. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a small gesture meant to convey his regret and affection. He watched as you began to eat the food he had prepared, giving you space but not leaving your side. Minho knew that making up after a fight would take time—he wasn’t rushing it. He was the type who needed time to process things too, so he understood the need for patience. But that day, even in the quiet, his actions spoke volumes. With every small gesture, he showed you that, despite the conflict, his love for you hadn’t wavered. It was in the way he cooked your favorite meal, in the soft kiss, and in the way he stayed close, reminding you that his feelings ran deep, even without words.

Changbin

Changbin might usually be soft and gentle when he's around you, but there are times when the pressure of people’s judgments becomes too much for him. During these moments, he feels overwhelmed by the weight of their opinions, which makes him more sensitive than usual. He withdraws into himself, rarely smiling or showing his usual warmth. If you try to lighten the mood or play around with him when he's feeling this way, it can quickly escalate into an argument. In his frustration and emotional vulnerability, he reacts defensively, saying things he shouldn’t—hurtful words that don't reflect his true feelings but are more about his own internal struggles. However, as soon as he sees the hurt in your eyes or notices that you’re upset by his outburst, the realization of his mistake hits him hard. The guilt sets in almost immediately, and he becomes painfully aware that he was wrong—very wrong. His anger fades quickly, replaced by a deep sense of regret, knowing that he let his emotions get the best of him and hurt someone who means so much to him.

Changbin moves a step closer to you, the fury that had once dominated his features fading away, replaced by a complex blend of guilt and the familiar softness that always fills his gaze when he looks at you. His once rigid posture relaxes, and his eyes, usually so fierce, now shimmer with a vulnerability that catches you off guard. The love that had seemed lost in his earlier anger reappears, and you can feel the weight of his emotions pouring out of him as he reaches for you. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his strong arms, holding you so tightly as if afraid to let go, as if his touch alone could mend the invisible rift between you. His body, firm and solid, presses against yours, providing warmth and comfort that you've always found in his embrace. You can feel his breath hot against your skin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply, inhaling the scent of you as though it’s a balm to his troubled soul. "I'm sorry, love," he whispers, his voice heavy with remorse.

"I'm so, so sorry." His words are muffled, but you can hear the pain and regret in every syllable. "I must be out of my mind," he continues, his arms tightening around you as though he's terrified you might slip away. "Things got so overwhelming... I'm stressed out, and I let it get the better of me. Please... don't be mad at me." You feel the sincerity in his words as his hands run gently up and down your back, offering both an apology and a plea for forgiveness in the way he holds you. He leans back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his own filled with emotion—no longer clouded by frustration, but by love, guilt, and an earnest desire to make things right. His forehead presses gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he softly murmurs, "I love you. So much. More than anything." His lips press against your forehead in a tender kiss, lingering there for a few moments longer than usual, as though the simple gesture could erase the tension that had built between you both.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin is the type of person who deeply connects his emotions to everything he does and everyone he interacts with. This emotional depth often leads to moments where misunderstandings or disagreements occur between the two of you. During these times, it’s not uncommon for him to respond in a way that might seem cold or distant. He might give you a sharp glare, or show frustration in some other way, and then leave abruptly. Even though it’s not the right way to handle things, he tends to walk away instead of talking about it in the moment. After this, there’s usually a stretch of silence between you both. You might not see or speak to each other for a few days. This time apart is important for Hyunjin, as he uses it to reflect and think things through. He needs space to process his emotions, but as the days pass, he slowly starts to realize that the argument or disagreement was something small or trivial. He begins to understand that it wasn’t worth the silent treatment, and that the two of you could have discussed it calmly from the start, without letting it spiral into a fight or turning to shouting.

Ultimately, he comes to see that open communication is the better path, and that resolving things doesn’t need to involve so much emotional distance. He spent hours at his easel, lost in thought, as his brush moved gently across the canvas. Each stroke seemed to carry the weight of his emotions, and slowly, a beautiful painting of the two of you began to take form—your silhouettes intertwined, bathed in soft light. His mind was filled with thoughts of you, of how beautiful you are, especially when you're around him. In that moment, he realized he needed to make things right. He was trying to express everything he couldn't say in words, letting his heart pour out through the art. When the time was right, when he finally gathered the courage, he came to you. In one hand, he held the painting—his feelings laid bare in each color, each line. In the other hand, a bouquet of beautiful flowers, carefully chosen to match the tenderness he felt for you.

He stood before you, his eyes filled with emotion, and without a word, he set the things aside and stepped closer, his eyes holding that soft look he always reserves just for you he pulled you close, cupping your face gently in his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with sincerity as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. I didn't mean any of it." Then, wrapping his arms around you, he held you close, ensuring that you could feel his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. His embrace was full of love and quiet apologies, a silent promise that he was ready to make things right. "I love you," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "Really, I do. Please don’t be mad anymore. I'll make it up to us, I swear." He lingered in the embrace, not wanting to let go, as if you might slip away, even though you wouldn’t. In that moment, he made sure you knew just how deep and strong his love truly is.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 8 months ago

Text

♡ Aftercare w/ Ateez ♡

♡ Pairing: ot8!ateez x fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/suggestive/a lil drop smutty

♡ Warnings: mentions of sex/penetration, lots of physical affection, and a bunch of fluffy, lovey dovey vibes.

♡ A/N: This one's a request from a darling anon who wanted some Ateez aftercare so I'm here to deliver. I hope this is everything you wanted it to be, my love!

♡ Hongjoong ♡

Hongjoong loves nothing more than to shower you with words of praise and affirmation. When you’re done making love and you’re draped across the bed, your naked body beautifully displayed for him, he’ll start applying tender kisses to your lips, whispering to you how utterly magical you are. He’ll praise you for how good you were for him. How good you always are for him. His lips will lightly skim the softness of your skin, sprinkling kisses all over your body. Your breasts. Your belly. Your thighs. Right between your legs when your clit’s still sensitive from the night’s activities. The whole time repeating those praises like some sort of prayer. Praises that make you feel loved and safe and beautiful because you are.

♡ Seonghwa ♡

Seonghwa’s favorite way of caring for you is running you a nice candle lit bubble bath. He doesn’t get in with you, not because he doesn’t like the feeling of your body wet against his but because he lives to pamper you. He’ll sit on the edge of the tub, washing you up, taking his time to give proper attention to every part of your body, making sure his touch conveys the depth of is affection for you. He could spend all night watching the warm, soapy water drip down your body. And the way your breath hitches when he gets to your breasts, rubbing your still stiff nipples beneath his palms, drives him crazy every time. He wants you to feel as good as you do when you reach your high and his touch is more than enough to bring you right to the edge again.

♡ San ♡

San gives massages that could make a girl feel like she’s in heaven. His strong hands smoothing fragrant oils across your naked body as you lay there allowing your tense muscles to melt into his touch. He could chart his course around your body with his eyes closed. He’s done it a thousand times. He knows how to ride the curves of your hips, applying the perfect amount of pressure to bring that euphoric feeling back to your body. He’ll run his strong hands across your ass, soothing the sting of a few slaps he dished out in the heat of the moment earlier tonight. And no matter how many times he’s done it, it never gets old for him. He never gets tired of exploring your body and taking in all the ways it responds to him, letting him know that it loves him as much as he loves it. As much as he loves you.

♡ Mingi ♡

Mingi will find any excuse he can to keep his tongue down your throat and a shower together is the perfect opportunity to do it. When he guides you into the shower, his lips are at yours the entire time, his long arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close. The water always spends a minimum of five minutes just rushing over your bodies. It’s like kissing in the rain only infinitely more intimate. When your lips are tender and you’ve nearly run out of air he’ll finally let you go, turning you around to wash you up, starting with your hair. That man can massage a scalp so well you find yourself purring with pleasure. Don’t even get him started on your body. When it’s your turn to wash him he’s more than eager to let you. He’s addicted to your touch and savors every second that he can feel it.

♡ Jongho ♡

Jongho isn’t known as someone who’s big on physical touch but it’s a different story entirely when it comes to you. There’s nothing he loves more than to have you in his arms. Truly, nothing compares to the feeling of your skin pressed to his, your limbs intertwined as your head rests on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, feel how in sync it is with yours. He likes to kiss the top of your head, his fingers teasing the small of your back, trailing up your spine to set off sparks that leave you buzzing inside. It always pushes him to the point that he’s pulling you up and into an intoxicating kiss, the head of his cock teasing your clit the tiniest bit before he’s easing you back down, leaving you both hanging in that perfect space between arousal and serenity that keeps your mind all fuzzy in the best way.

♡ Yunho ♡

Yunho started singing to you one night when Alexa decided she didn’t want to play your favorite song and it’s been a tradition ever since. When the night has been particularly long and your body’s lying limp in his arms, he’ll stare into your eyes like they’re as beautiful as the night sky, singing songs that make your heart flutter. He gazes at you so lovingly that you lose yourself in those warm brown eyes, feeling as wrapped up in them as you do his embrace. You always get so giggly when he leans in to kiss his way down your neck or along your collarbone. It’s like you can feel the melodies vibrating through your body, making parts of you sing that you didn’t even know had the capability to. Even if you’re exhausted, his voice awakens something inside of you that makes you want to risk it all and beg him to devour you all over again which he would gladly do.

♡ Yeosang ♡

Yeosang would stay up forever with you if you asked him to but, on those nights where he knows you need your rest, his favorite thing to do is take a nap with you. All wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket, your favorite show or movie playing on the TV. He watches as you fall asleep, your breathing growing softer as you drift off to have the sweetest of dreams. Only then can he fall asleep too, dreaming of that quiet moment in the middle of the night where you’ll wake up again and plant kisses all over his face, your sleepy eyes barely open. He’ll wake up and kiss you back, kisses so sweet you can’t tell if you’re awake or if this is still a dream. Pulling you on top of him, he’ll explore your figure beneath the blankets, slipping inside of you once more, making love to you much gentler this time around. He’ll have to repeat the cycle of putting you to bed all over again but it’s not like he’s complaining. He never would.

♡ Wooyoung ♡

Wooyoung keeps a fridge filled to the brim with your favorite snacks and he’s always excited to surprise you with that new one you keep saying that you wanted to try. Feeding you makes him so happy. Seeing the way you smile when you really love something, doing your little happy dance while you straddle his lap. It’s the cutest thing he has ever and will ever see. He’s sure of it. If there’s a crumb or a drop of anything on your lip it gives him the perfect excuse to kiss you, suckling at your soft lips as your fingers rake through his dark, velvety hair. He kisses you until the flavor of whatever you’ve eaten has faded, pausing to check in on you and see if you want more. More food? More kisses? More of him? More of whatever it takes to keep you feeling as good as you do at this moment. Whatever it is, it's yours.

#ateez headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader

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solxamber · 12 days ago

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Going to get my driver's licence and now I'm curious. How bad do you think the twst characters would be behind a car?? Cause idk if they have cars in that world or some magic equivalent, but I'm 90% sure almost none of them now how. Like imagine Lillia behind the wheel. He would either crash the car or get you yo your destination with mild injuries. And I KNOW leona sucks at driving that sonnova gun probs doesn't even have his permit.

good luck soldier, hope you pass first try 🫡

leona is canonically good at driving! his liongarb vignette part 2 has him driving everyone and they say it's a surprisingly smooth ride, he's had his license since before he enrolled in nrc!

ooo let's see (these are my hcs)

How I think the twst boys drive:

Riddle

“If you don’t use your blinker, you deserve a revoked license and public humiliation.”

has a laminated printout of the dmv manual in his glove compartment. refers to it. frequently.

stress-mumbles the rules of the road like it’s a ritual to keep the car from crashing

WILL tailgate someone going under the speed limit while also ranting about how dangerous tailgating is

6/10 driving skills. you’ll get there. your spine might not survive the journey, but you’ll get there.

Trey

drives like a dad and acts like one too. snacks in the glovebox. tunes to an “easy listening” radio station no one asked for

makes full eye contact with you while backing into a parking space like it’s nothing. terrifying.

won’t yell at other drivers but will mutter very passive-aggressive things like “oh, nice turn signal, champ”

actually a good driver, but if you’re in a rush he suddenly forgets where the gas pedal is

9/10. safe, boring, you will arrive calmly unless you say something that triggers “dad lecture mode”

Cater

treats every red light like a selfie opportunity. traffic jam? story time.

“oops lol i forgot i was driving”—said as he casually swerves back into the lane with one hand and no shame

will absolutely blast hyperpop or sad girl music at full volume and sing along

uses gps and still misses every turn. rerouting? he’s rerouting his soul

4/10. looks good while driving but he’s taking you straight to the afterlife

Ace

somehow thinks he’s in mario kart. will try to drift. is bad at drifting.

screams “WE’RE FINEEEE” after hitting the curb for the third time

brakes too late, accelerates too fast, thinks honking is just “assertive communication”

if there’s a speed bump he’s treating it like a ramp. bonus points if he makes you hit your head on the ceiling

2/10. he’s the reason riddle has ulcers. do NOT get in the car if you value your life or bones.

Deuce

follows every rule with military precision. 10 and 2. full stops. checks mirrors like he’s solving a crime

“Yes ma’am, no ma’am, I mean—uh, officer! No officer! I wasn’t speeding I swear—” (he wasn’t. he was 5 under.)

will cry if you scream while he’s merging. please don’t scare the boy.

starts off driving like your grandma, then randomly hits you with a tokyo drift moment and doesn’t explain

7/10. either safest driver alive or full menace. depends on how much sleep he got.

Leona

the infuriatingly competent kind of driver who looks like he’s not paying attention, but then parallel parks in one smooth move without even checking the mirrors

arm out the window, seat leaned back, one hand on the wheel, vibes immaculate

doesn’t drive fast, but drives scarily efficient. like you blink and you’re at the destination

will not turn down the music. you are listening to the same remix loop for 45 minutes and you WILL like it.

9/10 driver. good under pressure, hates driving in the rain, will refuse to pick you up unless you bribe him with snacks or flattery.

Ruggie

terrifyingly resourceful behind the wheel. the kind of guy who’ll be like “oh yeah there’s a shortcut” and you end up on a goat trail with no guardrails

speed demon. not by choice. he just doesn’t believe in arriving late. or braking.

eats while driving. talks while driving. does parkour with the car while driving. you pray while riding.

every time he drives you somewhere, you owe him one. including emotional damage fees.

5/10. you will survive. but spiritually? you left your body three potholes ago.

Jack

rule follower. actual golden retriever on the road. if you litter out the window he will make a U-turn to go back and make you pick it up

will not speed, will not honk unless someone is literally on fire, will not change the radio station unless everyone agrees

but if someone cuts him off? feral instincts engaged.

quietly competitive. if someone passes him, he WILL accelerate. you may hear growling. don’t question it.

8.5/10. safe, solid, dependable. would drive you home from a party and make sure you drank water first.

Azul

thinks driving is a power move. like. he paid extra for that quiet engine start just to flex

fully uses driving time to monologue about business deals, plans, or subtle threats. you’re not sure if you’re carpooling or in a hostage negotiation

signals three miles ahead. checks mirrors like he’s being tailed by the fbi. he might be

very good at navigating. if gps reroutes, he reroutes it back. he wins against the algorithm.

9/10, but unnerving. you’re safe, but at what cost.

Jade

why does he have a license. who allowed this.

drives like he’s setting up a prank for someone ten miles ahead

never speeds, but takes the creepiest, emptiest backroads imaginable. says it’s “more scenic”

always smiling while driving. concerningly calm if something explodes. probably listening to classical music or nature documentaries

6/10. legally fine. emotionally? you’re not coming back the same.

Floyd

no one is shocked he passed the test. everyone is shocked he was legally allowed to take it

drives according to mood. if he’s bored, the car drifts. if he’s happy, he’s swerving in rhythm to the beat. if he’s angry? start writing your will.

makes driving sounds while driving. “vroom vroom~ screeeee~” for no reason

WILL throw fries at other cars. WILL try to high-five a biker at a stoplight. WILL unbuckle his seatbelt to “stretch” mid-drive

3/10. you either have the best day of your life or a near-death experience. possibly both.

Kalim

loudest driver alive. music blaring, windows down, shouting "WHEEEE~!" every time he accelerates

constantly turns around to talk to people in the backseat. like fully turns around. while driving.

forgets he’s not in a flying carpet. every stop sign is an opportunity to launch forward like it’s a joyride

someone told him roundabouts are fun so he goes around twice. just for the vibes.

4/10. he loves driving. driving does not love him back. you’re clutching the oh-shit handle the whole time.

Jamil

the only reason scarabia hasn’t been sued for vehicular crimes

drives like a tired single parent with 4 kids in the back screaming about McDonald's

SPEEDS when no one’s watching. you blink, he’s five miles ahead. shadow clone jutsu behind the wheel.

has memorized every traffic light timer in the city. never hits red. it’s… weird.

9/10. efficient, smooth, and will absolutely sigh dramatically the whole time you’re in the car.

Vil

drives a clean car. spotless. smells like luxury perfume and judgment

interior is curated. no trash. no crumbs. one water bottle and it’s aesthetically pleasing.

signals aggressively. like he flips that blinker with intent

will slow down to give you a Look if you’re in the wrong outfit to be seen with him

8/10. elegant and competent, but if you scuff his interior with your shoes, you’re walking.

Rook

who gave him a license. seriously. who looked at this man and went “yes. let him command a machine.”

sings full operas while driving. makes direct eye contact through the rearview mirror. unsettling.

has taken you on backroads even you didn’t know existed. somehow it was scenic.

talks like he’s narrating a wildlife documentary about the local traffic patterns

???/10. is he a good driver? no one knows. he’s just... driving.

Epel

lives for off-roading. doesn’t matter if he’s in a prius, he’s driving that baby like it’s a monster truck

drives like a 90-year-old when vil’s in the car. drives like he’s in a nascar trial when vil’s not

says “it’s fine, I’ve done this before” and proceeds to take a left turn at 70 mph

threatens to do donuts in the parking lot and then does them.

5/10. he’s trying his best. unfortunately, his best involves sick tricks and zero concern for tire life.

Idia

doesn’t.

has a license “for legal reasons,” but he treats driving like going outside is the final boss battle

owns a tricked-out car he never drives. it has led lights, anime decals, and a built-in gaming console. he uses it as a portable man cave

the one (1) time he did drive, he wore fingerless gloves, anime osts were blasting, and he whispered “initial D style” before forgetting which pedal was the brake

2/10. technically can drive. emotionally should not. you’re safer ubering with floyd.

Ortho

doesn't technically need a license but downloaded the entire dmv handbook into his memory for fun

his “car” is less “vehicle” and more “sentient ai-controlled hovercraft with wifi and snacks”

offers in-flight entertainment. like you’re not even on a plane. he just projects movies on the dashboard

drives at optimal efficiency.

11/10. the future of driving. terrifying and amazing. please stop letting him hack traffic lights though.

Malleus

he has a license. he studied for it. memorized the entire rulebook. aced the written.

the problem is: he drives like he's never seen another car before

goes 25 in a 60 because “it is the safest way to protect my precious cargo” (YOU)

stares at traffic lights like they personally offended him

car is some luxury vintage thing that makes no sense. you have to open the door with a key made of bone or something

3/10. you are deeply loved. and deeply late.

Lilia

drives like he’s lived through every era of vehicular invention. he owned a horse-drawn carriage and a tank

owns a beat-up, pink minivan with a custom wrap and dice in the mirror

speeds. aggressively. will swerve into the drive-thru and order fifty mcnuggets “for the road”

talks with both hands while driving. both. hands.

4/10. unpredictable. fun. chaos incarnate. your insurance company hates him.

Silver

good driver. responsible driver.

...except for the part where he falls asleep at stop signs

you’ll be halfway through a deep conversation and he’ll just nod off with his foot on the brake

car is clean, smells like lavender, and has one (1) emergency granola bar in every compartment

very gentle driver. almost too gentle. like “you didn’t feel the turn because he was spiritually aligned with the wheel” kind of gentle

6.5/10. smooth ride, but someone needs to keep him awake with snacks and playlist bangers.

Sebek

shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel.

drives like he’s been assigned to escort the royal heir through enemy territory

yells at everyone on the road. pedestrians, squirrels, YOU—no one is safe from his critiques of your seatbelt position

insists on narrating everything. “SIGNALING LEFT. NOW SWITCHING LANES. REMAIN ALERT!”

the gps is set to his own voice. and you can’t turn it off

2/10. the only thing louder than the engine is his righteous fury.

Grim

that’s a cat.

(he tries to drive. he sits on the wheel. honks the horn with his butt. chews the seatbelt. it's a warzone in there.)

this was so fun to do lmao

#sol answers #twst #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #sol hcs

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asterafroditis · 21 days ago

Text

𐔌 . ⋮ studying for finals .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Second Years x gn! reader

𓏵 978 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

In honor of finishing my finals hehe >< First Years are done! Third Years coming up next! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Studying with Riddle is very structured. He has a study plan, a schedule, and even pre-made review sheets. You don’t just study—you prepare like it’s a duel.

But he’s surprisingly gentle with you. If you don’t understand something, he pauses the session to explain it from another angle, sometimes even using little metaphors to help you.

He lights up when you get the answer right.

“Correct, exactly as I taught you. Very good.”

If you ever compliment him on being a good tutor, he flushes slightly and stiffens.

“W-Well… It’s only natural for the Housewarden of Heartslabyul to be academically exemplary. Still, thank you.”

When you leave, he’ll hand you a small, neatly packed snack or herbal tea, saying:

“To keep your mind clear—don’t skip your meals.”

─────────────────────────

Ruggie’s study vibe is casual. You’re both sprawled out somewhere comfy, probably the lounge or under a tree. He keeps things light to avoid burnout.

He’s sharp, though—great at pointing out shortcut methods or helping you understand tricky questions without making your brain explode.

Occasionally, he’ll make jokes or tease you when you overthink.

“C’mon, don’t make that face. It ain’t a life-or-death quiz, y’know?”

He brings snacks (stolen or otherwise) and sneakily slides them to you mid-session when he sees you losing steam.

If you thank him, he shrugs, a little flustered.

“Don’t go gettin’ mushy on me now, but I’ll admit, it’s kinda fun helpin’ ya.”

─────────────────────────

Azul treats it like a business meeting at first—your study area is organized, quiet, and candlelit. He offers to quiz you or share special study materials “for a price” (joking… mostly).

But once you settle in, his demeanor softens. He genuinely enjoys teaching and loves it when you ask questions.

When you compliment how well he explains something, he adjusts his glasses and smiles.

“You flatter me, but I must admit, I do take pride in being thorough.”

He gets bashful if you bring him a snack or thank him earnestly.

“I… appreciate that. You’re quite thoughtful.”

At the end of your study session, he’ll subtly ask if you’ll study again soon—because he really doesn’t want it to be a one-time thing.

─────────────────────────

Jade is calm, composed, and slightly intimidating—but he’s actually a really soothing presence while studying. He speaks softly, explains clearly, and never rushes you.

You study somewhere quiet, maybe an empty hallway or botanical corner. He watches your progress with curiosity.

When you get stuck, he’ll lean in and ask:

“Shall I explain it again in a different way, perhaps?”

He never makes you feel dumb, but his compliments are cryptic.

“It’s quite satisfying to see how you flourish under pressure.”

Occasionally, he’ll test you with trick questions just to keep you sharp, smirking when you catch on.

You leave the study session feeling smarter... and like you just passed a secret test you didn’t know you were taking.

─────────────────────────

Studying with Floyd is a gamble. He gets bored fast and groans at every long passage, but if you care about the material, he might actually pay attention.

He sprawls across the floor, pokes at your notes, and leans close when you’re trying to focus.

“Shrimpy, you’re takin’ this way too seriously... but you look kinda cute when you squint like that.”

When you finally get an answer right after struggling, he claps (loudly) and grins.

“Ooh, look at you go! Brain’s finally wakin’ up, huh?”

He acts all wild and lazy, but subtly watches you the whole time. If he sees you looking tired, he’ll throw a pillow at you and say,

“Nap break! You can’t be smart on a tired brain.”

─────────────────────────

Kalim is the sunshine of finals week. He’s always excited to study with you, even if he’s not the best at staying on-topic.

You have to gently nudge him back on track every five minutes, but he’s so genuinely kind and open that you don’t mind.

If he doesn’t understand something, he’ll laugh and go,

“Whoops! Guess I need to ask Jamil again—but maybe you can help me first?”

He’s always praising you:

“You’re so smart! Seriously, you explained that better than any teacher I’ve had!”

He brings snacks, cushions, and even little good-luck charms. You leave his study session smiling, no matter how much you got done.

─────────────────────────

Studying with Jamil is surprisingly comfortable; he’s patient, observant, and really good at breaking down complex material.

He sighs when Kalim barges in halfway through your sessions, but you catch the tiniest hint of a smile when you laugh.

He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he really does want you to do well.

“Focus. I’ll quiz you again until you get it right.”

If you do well, he gives you this quiet little nod of approval.

“...Not bad. Looks like you’ve been listening after all.”

When you offer to quiz him, he acts indifferent at first—but clearly enjoys being challenged back.

─────────────────────────

Silver’s study sessions are soft, warm, and peaceful… if he stays awake. You often have to nudge him gently when his head starts drooping mid-page.

He’s a thoughtful and calm teacher. If you ask him to explain something, he thinks carefully before speaking, and his voice is steady and low.

He’ll even offer to read passages aloud to help you focus, and his voice is soothing enough to lull you to sleep too.

When you get overwhelmed, he gives such sincere encouragement it melts your heart.

“It’s alright. You’re doing better than you think.”

Sometimes you both end up leaning against each other, quiet books in hand, the world soft around you.

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butterflywingswrites · 29 days ago

Note

can you write a fic where the reader had a boyfriend but she breaks up with him bc she wants to try girls (we know who’s the girl she wants to try 😋)

“so caitlin is my project partner for marketing class” you explained to your boyfriend “she invited me to come watch so i thought it would be a fun date for us”

you and your boyfriend got settled in your seats as you watched the team warm up. even in the warm ups, caitlin captured the crowd. you couldn’t help but notice what her sweatpants hid: those perfect thighs. they were strong and beautiful. was that an ass? her sweatpants definitely hid that

as you watched the game, you became mesmerized by her aura. caitlin captivated the crowd with her amazing shots and high energy. after one particularly good basket, she stuck her tongue out to the crowd. your mind wandered to how that tongue would feel in your mouth, on your nipples, on your thighs, in your pu–

“i think she’s waving at you” your boyfriend took you out of your thoughts. you focused back on the court. she was waving at you. you waved back and she winked before turning her attention back to her coach

***

“who was that guy you were with last night?” caitlin asked when you took a break from working on your project

“that’s my boyfriend”

“boyfriend?” caitlin raised her eyebrows “i didn’t know you had a boyfriend”

“it’s new. we’ve only been together for a couple weeks, just testing things out”

“i thought you were gay”

“oh! no, no. definitely not” you denied, perhaps a little too forcefully

“interesting. i was definitely getting sapphic vibes from you. are you bi?” she leaned in, very interested in your response. you felt your face heat up

“umm. i don’t really…” you trailed off awkwardly

“got it” caitlin didn’t make you finish your sentence “have you been with a girl before?”

“no” your face was still hot

“would you?”

“if my boyfriend and i break up, i wouldn’t be opposed to try kissing girls” you admitted

“just kissing? i usually cum better when i’m with a girl” caitlin confirmed your suspicions about her sexuality

“i feel like i’ll have to see how i feel in the moment”

“okay, no pressure. i just think you should explore your options if you have the opportunity” caitlin leaned in to whisper in your ear “just so you know, a girl has never had a problem finding my clit”

“oh” you were at a loss for words. you knew it wasn’t fair to your boyfriend, but you could feel yourself getting wet

“just something for you to think about”

***

“so you said sex with girls is better than sex with guys?” you asked caitlin during your project break

“for me, yes. but of course that’s just my experience. why do you ask?”

“just thinking about what you said the other day”

“oh” caitlin raised her eyebrows “and what about the boyfriend?”

“i broke up with him. i just wasn’t feeling it” you were also far too into caitlin for it to be heterosexual, but you left that part out

“so you’re single and thinking about sex with girls?” caitlin seemed pleased you were single now

“i guess i am” you giggled a bit when caitlin smiled “let’s get back to our project”

caitlin’s fingers ghosted up and down your thigh as you worked on your project with her. when her fingers got close to your pussy, you breathed in deeply to calm yourself down. you needed to focus on the project, not your hot project partner. caitlin must’ve wanted your attention because she put two fingers right on your clit

“did i find it?” she teased with her words from the other day

“no problem” you teased back. you tried to continue working but she started rubbing circles on your clit. even through your leggings, her fingers felt amazing. you held back moans as she applied the perfect amount of pressure with her fingers. eventually, a moan escaped your lips

“that’s it, pretty girl. moan for me” her words sent a rush of wetness to your underwear. clearly she didn’t want you to hold back, so why were you? you leaned in and kissed her. you were nervous because you’d never kissed a girl before, but at ease because caitlin made you so comfortable. you giggled when she pulled back with a cute smile on her face

“are you sure you’ve never kissed a girl before?” caitlin teased. you gave her another long kiss

“just you” another long kiss

“come” kiss “to” kiss “my” kiss “room” caitlin could barely get a word in because you wouldn’t stop kissing her. you let her guide you from her living room area to her room. as soon as she closed the door, she gently pushed you on the bed and got on top of you

she kissed you deeply and played with the hem of your shirt. when you pulled back, you nodded, signaling to caitlin to take off your shirt. she wasted no time pulling off your shirt and kissing down your stomach

“so soft” she mumbled on your skin between kisses. she continued kissing your stomach until she got impatient, playing with the waistband of your pants. you lifted your hips so she could get your pants off. she immediately threw them to the side and started kissing your thigh

“so” kiss “fucking” kiss “pretty” caitlin kept kissing your thigh until you whined impatiently

“caitlin please. i need you” she hooked her fingers in your underwear. you lifted your hips so she could pull them off of you, throwing them with your leggings

caitlin licked your pussy slowly, making sure to give you time to relax and get used to her. her tongue felt amazing and you couldn’t hold back your moans. the moans seemed to encourage her and she moved on to licking and sucking on your clit. her mouth on your clit was incredible and you felt yourself getting close to orgasm. you pulled her hair and she moaned against your pussy

“mhmm caity” you moaned as she finished you off with her tongue. you giggled when she pulled back and her whole face was wet

“i found it, right?”

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut

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menodoramoon · 5 months ago

Text

'Min kære, there was not such thing as last time'

No matter how real the dream felt to her, no matter how vividly she recalls it, there was no convincing Tófi of its significance. Perhaps it wasn't a life that was tangible, but the impression of it so stubbornly stuck with her along with all the grief and emotion that she had experienced.

She doesn't want to fight. Menodora nods numbly, a soft, "alright," murmured. A concession of sorts. No matter her belief, she admits a quiet defeat, at least in this moment. At least with them.

They tell her they don't fear her. She looks up, warily, as Tófi explains. A wry, tired smile spreads across her lips. The detail that many people got wrong about Septarians, especially when going off of hearsay and vague recollection, was that they were immune to harm. Even that they were inhumanly resilient to injury. Menodora would argue with that.

The thing about Septarians was that they were resilient in will, not in their defenses. Limbs and organs grew back with ease. They were semi-immortal for their regenerative persistence. They were suspectable to harm, braving it, then coming back somewhat anew.

It had taken great strength and recklessness to have caused that 'permanent' damage. To inflict harm that did matter. Her gaze falls on where their ring finger should be, her wry smile turning tight. It was a drastic measure. It was a desperate measure. And it was a defiant measure, as she had aimed not for their heart as she had been instructed to do.

Even when the chance arose again to strike them down, while they had perplexedly attempted to regrow their lost finger, Moon the Undaunted would not reignite that 'Darkest Spell.' It was hers to use forever. If she wanted, she could whisper those words now and try to call upon it.

What she lacked to cast it now, besides the energy and magical stability, was conviction. Her weakness of will would not allow her to make another attempt. Her weakness in general could prove fatal, but not to them.

The darkness under her skin surges with her thoughts, the feeling of its residual ire dancing through her nerves, leaving discomfort and mild pain in its wake.

Every passing moment leaves Menodora feeling more and more unsteady. Sapped. The effects of her rogue, runaway feelings more and more evident as any lingering adrenaline drains away, leaving an aching emptiness behind.

'Do not pout, Diamanter,' they chide. She hadn't considered herself to be pouting, though the mild indignation of that statement almost fulfilled that prophecy. The use of one of her many soft names, in Danish no less, a particular trigger for the subtle blush that spreads further across her cheeks.

Though she had meant her quip about fairness to have been a wry sort of humor, a deflection laced with a weak attempt at levity, Tófi had considered it sincerely.

They acknowledged the exchange of physical pain for psychic, emotional damages. No matter the tangible harm she could attempt to inflict upon them, the sharpness and ruthlessness of their tongue could cut her tenfold. It was a staying sort of pain that recurred, playing unbidden in the back of her mind. Her loneliness allowed such recollections to fester, much like the memory of that haunting eye contact at the banquet. The look of raw betrayal written across Moon's face met with the haunting indifference of an expression, a remorseless wall.

Her mind had wandered, thoughts spiraling outwards, until Tófi drew her back, conceding only part way to her protests.

They would not carry her. They would still lead her to bed.

The note that it was the Master Bedroom did not escape Menodora, though her general weariness did not particularly fancy an argument about it. She doubts Tófi is the sort of person -- sort of Monster? That title of which they are so proud of -- to forego such luxuries as the primary bedroom in their own manor. All of which to say, she expects it's their room that they're leading her to. Would a guest room be more practical? It would certainly be more appropriate. For as overly pragmatic as Tófi claims to be, she wonders if they've considered the implications, however founded or unfounded, of their intentions.

More and more of her resolve slipped from her, and she is forced to wonder just how much of herself she's lost to that raw and explosive display. Just what sort of toll her violent temper had wrought on her.

They tell her to follow them, and Menodora just needs a moment. A quick moment to gather herself, to stand up again with her head held high because she does not desire Tófi's charity.

The Septarian takes two short steps forward before pausing, and Menodora, through an annoyingly imposing haze, glances towards them but does not meet their eyes.

They reach for her, first her wrist. Then her hand.

She really must look terrible.

They pull her along, supporting her through her abrupt bout of unsteadiness. She must admit that it is a humbling experience, though one she's in no position or disposition to fight. They already acquiesced to one refusal of their help. She doubts they'd do so with another.

Gods, she was reeling.

Guiding her as they had promised, they propose an exchange. They will make an effort not to start any fights with her when she is 'too tired to begin with' (likely too tired to fight back), and she must promise to rest, really rest, in turn.

Restlessness had always been a core failing on her part. Her face is impassive as they walk, mostly due to the words not fully settling for a moment's delay.

There's a momentary hum through her pensive half-smile. An acknowledgment of their words, without a commitment.

She has always been relatively perplexed by her former advisor's, former teacher's, opinion of her. So many concessions over the years for her benefit, yet they nurtured a not insignificant amount of doubt through their lessons. Of Mjaunie and all she knew. All she was part of because that system was all she had.

Menodora closes her eyes for just a moment against the light, trusting Tófi to maneuver her if needed. If she walked into a chest or sideboard, so be it. She probably deserved it for all the trouble she causes.

She stops where they are, holding Tófi's hand tightly in her tainted one. Signaling for them to please just let her stand for a moment. To allow her to be still because if they kept walking, even at that slow pace for her sake, she might very well be driven to some state of mental nausea.

That aside, an unbearable building of uninhibited emotion was roiling in her chest.

"I don't understand," she admits, eyes open again, the words escaping before she can revise her thoughts. It seems she's committed to this line of dialogue… she continues, "How it is that you can show such thoughtful care for me when only minutes ago we exchanged verbal and physical violence." She grimaces at the still-open emotional cuts. They hadn't scarred over yet, they were still too fresh.

"You can so easily call me pitiable and pathetic, yet offer quite sincerely to carry me to bed." It's an inconsistent relationship they carry on. Or was it that their rage and wrath, their verbal berating, was simply their version of her own magical outburst? "There was a time when my adoration for you, Mr Advisor, would have weighted your words so heavily that I don't know if I'd ever resurface again. I might have drowned under the impact if we were still within the halls of my family manor."

Such an admission felt forbidden, only possible due to her fragile mental state. They had never been terribly affectionate with each other, physical affection was not a virtue of her family and such closeness would have been deemed inappropriate between a monstrous teacher and the young Komtesse, yet care was shown through small acts or favors. Through shows of goodwill and confidence. Through Tófi's belief in her, despite the broad doubts levied against her by The Commission.

Had they been the one to first express concern for her accelerated training in Light Magic? Maybe they had had a point, given her unstable display.

Menodora remains rooted, the issue of rest having come back to her. She had not yet accepted Tófi's terms, which she's sure hasn't escaped their notice.

Their words were that she must 'promise to try,' which left Menodora with the question of what they consider to be a fair attempt at resting.

When she had initially asked to rest, her request was meant to suggest being able to take a moment off her fear in the sitting room to gather herself. She had never intended to intrude so much as to be led to their bed.

The implications of which, again, she did not want to voice in fear of them being perceived as rude. (A bold concern for a woman who had just stabbed them, but…) Besides, the nature of their relationship had never betrayed an intention of romantic attraction.

(Dreams of an alternate 1815 aside.)

"I promise to try," she says, abandoning her stubbornness (or was it her caution) and nodding softly. Squeezing their hand once more.

Even with her physical unease, her mind calms, even if only temporarily. She's grateful for the reprieve.

"Though I can't guarantee how rested I'll feel. You know how idleness and quiet only encourage my wandering thoughts." (A recurring truth from even her childhood.) "I fear I'll only disappoint you further, Tófi."

@ofseptarsis

genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon

#Tw mild descriptions of injury #/ I am so sorry for whatever this is #/ (also let me know if you're alright if you have the chance?)#/ (no rush no pressure just good vibes)#/ and whatever the heck vibes this is???#/ Menodora's temper and stubborness (and pride) will be the death of her #/ provided Tófi does not get to her first #/ enemies to... ???#ch: tófi sethson #th: genfødte sandheder

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nylqnder · 2 months ago

Text

BURDEN QUINN HUGHES

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!coach!reader

summary: you and quinn, both dealing with your individual struggles, are able to find solace in one another.

warnings: coach!reader, platonic (but like maybe the start of something more?), very much inspired by what people say about our queen jessica campbell so sexism + misogyny, quinn dealing with feelings of not being good enough, probably more that i'm missing but that's the general vibe

wc: 2.37k

The arena was almost eerily silent after morning skate. Most of the team had already showered and left, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. The echoes of their skates had long since disappeared from the ice, leaving only the soft hum of the arena lights and the rattling of the air conditioner.

You sat alone in the video room, the glow of the monitor illuminating your focused expression. Game footage flickered on the screen — defensive breakdowns, missed passes, and a handful of lackluster power plays that made you grit your teeth.

The weight of the Canucks' struggles pressed down on your chest like a concrete block. Frame by frame, the footage laid bare every mistake — blown coverage, lazy backchecks, and forwards stranded without support. It wasn't just a bad stretch; it was a pattern, a slow unraveling of confidence and cohesion.

You leaned forward, pausing the playback at a brutal turnover that led to yet another odd-man rush. Your jaw clenched as the opposing winger effortlessly deked past your defence and buried the puck top shelf. The players' body language told its own grim story: slumped shoulders, frustrated glances, and hollow stares at the bench. The swagger that once defined the team had been replaced by hesitation and doubt.

A slow sigh escaped your lips as you scribbled notes on a crumpled sheet. Tighten defensive gaps. Better transition reads. Revamp special teams. The list was growing longer than you'd care to admit. But it wasn’t just tactics — it was heart. How do you coach belief back into a team that’s forgotten how to win?

The nagging whispers of self-doubt were now becoming shouts as the losses piled up. Being the second female coach in NHL history was a weight you carried with both pride and exhaustion. Every misstep wasn’t just seen as a tactical error—it was treated like evidence. Evidence that maybe you didn’t belong, evidence that the old-school skeptics were right.

When the Canucks were winning, the narrative was a feel-good headline: Trailblazing Coach Proves Gender Barrier No Match for Hockey Savvy. But when the losses piled up, the tone shifted. Experiment Failing? Pressure Mounts for Second Female Coach.

The whispers lingered even when the arena was empty. Analysts questioned your systems, fans dissected your bench demeanor, and anonymous accounts on social media spewed their venom without consequence. They didn’t just criticize strategy — they questioned your very right to stand where you stood.

You clenched your pen, the tip scratching harsh lines into the paper. The criticism was constant and insidious, seeping into every corner of your thoughts if you let it. So you forced it out. You learned to compartmentalize, shoving doubts and insecurities into a mental lockbox and focusing on the task at hand. You kept your head down, analyzing film, strategizing drills, and blocking out the noise.

You'd never been one to walk away from a fight, and hockey was no different. You reminded yourself why you'd taken this job in the first place — not just for yourself, but for every girl who grew up loving the game and wondering if there was a place for them in it. There was. You were proof of that, whether the world wanted to accept it or not.

Out on the ice, Quinn Hughes lingered, skating slow, deliberate laps. He was always the last one off the ice, pushing himself long after everyone else had called it a day. You’d spent countless hours working with him — he was the Canucks’ captain and a gifted defenseman, and you related to him deeply, having been a defenseman yourself during your playing days. You’d seen firsthand the weight of the season beginning to settle heavily on his shoulders.

The physical toll was obvious. His left hand, heavily taped beneath his glove, clenched his stick with a tension that spoke of discomfort. You'd caught him flexing his fingers during breaks in practice, a grimace flickering across his face before he masked it with stoic determination. The medical staff had recommended rest, but Quinn had brushed off their concerns, insisting that the team needed him. He was stubborn like that — a trait you both shared, for better or worse.

But it wasn’t just the hand injury eating away at him. There was a weariness in his eyes that tape and ice baths couldn't fix. The weight of leadership pressed on his shoulders, compounded by the growing friction in the locker room. Pettersson and Miller, two of the team's brightest stars, were locked in a silent feud that was becoming harder to ignore.

You'd seen the glances exchanged during line changes, the curt nods instead of fist bumps after goals, and the palpable tension during meetings. They weren't shouting matches — at least not yet — but the simmering resentment was affecting everyone. Players tried not to choose sides, instead desperately trying to keep the locker room from ripping at the seams.

Quinn had tried to mediate, his voice low and measured as he pulled them aside after practice. But neither Elias nor J.T. seemed willing to budge. Their competitive drive, which usually fueled the team’s success, had become a wedge driving them apart. And Quinn, caught in the middle, was paying the price.

You restarted the clip of yet another failed powerplay, trying to identify what needed to change in order to see some results. Do you change the personnel? Do you change their positioning? Try a different zone entry? The seemingly endless options bounced around in your head, causing yet another pounding headache to develop.

Then it came: the sudden, jarring clatter of sticks clashing against hard surfaces. The sharp bang of a door slamming open reverberated through the empty arena corridors. You flinched, the sound cutting through the quiet like a slap. Something heavy crashed inside the locker room, followed by a burst of shouting and cursing.

You rose from your chair, the glow of the monitor fading behind you as you walked down the hallway toward the locker room. Stepping inside, hesitantly while holding your breath, you took in the sight before you.

Quinn sat hunched over in his stall, his posture crumpled under an invisible weight. His skates, helmet, stick, and gloves were scattered across the room like the aftermath of a storm. The helmet lay upside down near the far wall, and one glove was still spinning slightly on the floor, evidence of its recent violent trajectory.

His chest heaved, and a sheen of sweat clung to his brow despite having left the ice some time ago. His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white against the dark fabric of his practice gear. The air was thick with the acrid scent of frustration and the faint, putrid scent of sweat that you could never fully get accustomed to.

You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts warring between giving him space and stepping in. But Quinn Hughes wasn’t someone who had outbursts — not like this. Seeing him unravel was unsettling, a stark contrast to the composed leader you’d come to know.

Silently, you crossed the room and sat in Garland’s stall directly across from him. Quinn didn’t look up, his shoulders still rising and falling with uneven breaths. The echoes of his outburst lingered in the space, settling into a weighty silence that clung to the walls. You crossed the room and sat down in Garland's stall across from him, folding your hands between your knees.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The hum of the arena lights filled the void, punctuated only by the distant hiss of the ventilation system. You let the quiet stretch, knowing that sometimes the best thing you could offer was simply presence — no forced pep talks, no immediate fixes, just being there.

Quinn's fists slowly relaxed, his breathing evening out. He stared at the floor, the sheen of sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his expression was a war between anger and defeat. You knew that look well — it was the face of a leader trying to hold everything together when the cracks were becoming too wide to ignore.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice steady but gentle.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What do you think?”

Fair enough. “Looks like you had a... spirited moment.”

His lips quirked faintly at your attempt to lighten the mood, but it quickly faded. “I just—” He broke off, struggling to find the words. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m supposed to be the one holding it together, and I can’t even hold myself together right now.”

You nodded, allowing the weight of his confession to hang between you. “Leadership’s a hell of a burden, isn’t it?”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “I knew it was going to be tough, but this? Watching the team fall apart? Petey and J.T. at each other's throats, the power play tanking, the media breathing down our necks? Feels like everything's slipping through my fingers, and I can’t stop it.”

“You’re not failing them,” you said firmly. “You care. That’s why this is eating you up inside. And that’s what makes you the right guy to wear that ‘C.’ The team doesn’t need a perfect captain, Quinn. They need one who shows up, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

He shook his head, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “It’s not enough. I’ve tried talking to Petey and J.T., but it’s like talking to a wall. And the guys... they can feel it. The tension. I see it in the way they skate, the way they sit in the room after games. It’s like we’re all waiting for something to snap.”

You leaned forward, your voice low but resolute. “Then don’t wait. Set the tone. You don’t have to fix everything overnight, but you can start by showing them what it looks like to keep fighting. Lead by example — on the ice, in the room, wherever they need you. And as for Petey and J.T.? If they won’t listen to reason, maybe it’s time for a little tough love.”

Quinn exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Feels like I’m failing them,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “The team, the fans — everyone. And I can’t even play at my best with this damn hand.” His voice cracked as he looked down at his fingers, flexing them with a grimace.

“You’re not in this alone,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with understanding. “And you’re not the only one under a microscope. Trust me — I get it.”

Quinn frowned, curiosity flickering through the storm behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

You shifted slightly, trying to organize thoughts that had been gnawing at the edges of your mind for weeks. “Look, being a coach in the NHL is tough for anyone. But being a woman? It adds a whole extra layer. When we win, I’m a novelty story. When we lose, I’m a failed experiment. And they don’t hold back either — I hear the whispers, read the headlines I shouldn’t be reading.” You exhaled shakily. “The criticism goes beyond X’s and O’s. They don’t just question my strategy; they question whether I should even be here in the first place.”

Quinn's expression hardened. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, bitterness tinging your voice. “But it’s reality. And I can’t let it break me, because the minute I do, they win. So I compartmentalize, push through the noise, and keep fighting. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get to me sometimes.”

Quinn was quiet for a long beat, his brows furrowed in thought. “It’s like no matter how hard you work or how much you care, it’s never enough, is it?”

“Exactly.” You gave a humorless laugh. “And God forbid you show any cracks, because then you’re weak. And weak doesn’t fly in this world.”

The weight of unspoken truths lingered between you, heavy but oddly comforting in its shared understanding. For once, you didn’t feel like you had to keep the walls up, and judging by the tension easing from Quinn’s shoulders, neither did he.

“I guess that’s what leadership is,” you added quietly. “Taking the hits so the people around you don’t have to. Even when it feels like it’s breaking you.”

Quinn's eyes met yours, something raw and unguarded flickering there. “You ever wonder if it’s worth it?”

You hesitated, the question hitting deeper than you expected. “Honestly? Sometimes. But then I think about why I started all of this in the first place. I love this game, and I want to prove that people like me — people who don’t fit the mould — can belong in it too. That keeps me going.”

He nodded slowly, as if turning your words over in his mind. “Guess I need to figure out what keeps me going.”

“You will,” you assured him, voice steady. “And when you do, hold onto it like hell. It’ll be what gets you through the worst of it.”

Quinn’s shoulders eased, some of the tension leaving his frame. “Thanks. I mean it. I didn’t realize you had so much to deal with too.”

“Welcome to the club of people pretending they're fine when they're not,” you said wryly. “The dues are pretty steep, though.”

A faint chuckle escaped him. “Guess that makes us both members, huh?”

You grinned. “Looks like it.”

For a moment, the weight in the room lifted, replaced by a tentative but undeniable sense of connection. You weren't just coach and captain anymore; you were two people who understood what it was like to carry heavy expectations and try not to buckle under them.

Quinn met your gaze, his expression earnest. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know... I'm around.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and warmth bloomed in your chest. “Same goes for you, Captain.”

For a moment, the tension lifted, replaced by a tentative but undeniable sense of connection. You weren’t just coach and captain anymore; you were two people who understood what it meant to carry heavy expectations and keep fighting anyway.

#˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ nylqnder #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks

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elysiansparadise · 10 months ago

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Hi !! I was wondering if you could do Mars in the 10H? 🤍 I looked at your masterlist and read almost all of it— YES, I AM (HEALTHILY) OBSESSED WITH YOU 🍰, your page, content, aesthetic, etc— and I haven't seen the placement yet 🍓 I saw your post to ask the ones you may have not done yet.

Thank you so muchhh!! We appreciate your efforts to complete it 🤍

Awww, hello love! You are so sweet, thank you so much for your words. 🤍

Mars in the 10th house

Many of these natives have a strong desire for success, a need to be in control of their lives and not let anything or anyone seek to interfere in their affairs. Courageous, ambitious, cunning and strategic, many of them are good at long-term planning, however they will always prefer to act rather than continue drowning in excessive planning. For them it is important to be proud of themselves, they want to achieve things on their own and achieve their goals. Some of these natives have difficulty celebrating their achievements, they only feel relieved to have completed their tasks and wonder what’s next. They are competitive either with people who work with them or even with versions of themselves from the past, since there is a strong drive to want to improve themselves and be better than before. They do not believe that things magically happen, rather they seek to make them happen. They are decisive, they know perfectly well what they want and what they don't want to deal with. They are people who think what is necessary before deciding something. They can become recognized throughout their lives for their decision, their strength, courage and determination. People know they can't mess with them. They will not hesitate to defend themselves or those in their charge if they feel threatened, they do not care about gender or age, because if you want their respect, you have to earn it with actions.

They give the impression of being very self-confident, they have strong-willed and intimidating vibes, they are usually seen as sexy or seductive and attract a lot of attention, as they seem to be perfectly content without someone else. Their independence, will and attitude are seen as irresistible. They can attract attention easily, and many of them can attract without intending or realizing it people who compare themselves a lot with them and who compete with the natives. They never settle for the minimum and if they can aspire and have better things, they will go after it. It is difficult to take them by surprise because they are constantly alert. One of the things they hate the most and that provokes their anger is being compared to other people, people who spend their time complaining all the time without doing anything about it and people who don't take responsibility for their own actions.

These natives find ambitious, hard-working people who take great care of their appearance attractive. They are attracted to the desire to get ahead and self-improve. Furthermore, for them it is crucial that more than just physical attraction and feelings of love, there is mutual admiration between them and their partners. They are very passionate and very sensual people in the most intimate sphere, they make sure to make their partner feel safe, confident in their bodies and very desired. Power can seem very attractive to them, from finding people in important positions attractive in whatever field they work in, to people who have this powerful vibe. High sex drive, they can become more attractive as the years go by. They are not afraid to be dominant or let their partners be dominant. They like the theme of one of the two being dominant. They like the idea of taking things slowly, filling their partner with caresses, flooding them with pleasant and sensual sensations, for them it is crucial that both they and their partners enjoy the moment and not feel rushed or pressured.

-> Go back to the masterlist

#mars in the 10th house #mars #10th house #astrology #natal chart #birth chart #mars in the 10th #mars in 10th house #mars in the 10h #mars in 10h #astro note #astro observation

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love-and-war-on-cybertron · 2 months ago

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Hii 🩵 could I request Optimus (Any is fine) with an f!reader who finally got out of a dysfunctional relationship? It could be NSFW or Valveplug.

Like, Optimus telling the reader she did a good thing and he wasn't good for her and she's brave for leaving, sweet reassuring Optimus.

A little short, went with bayverse vibes. Sweet but spicy below the read more.

His metal is quite warm. You expected it to be cold, especially with how late it is. The wind slips past skin and you shiver. Optimus shifts his servo to cover you more, warm metal on chilled skin. You press into it as his thumb runs down your torso. Sternum to stomach till he has reached the crotch of your pants. Following the seam, between your thighs and back up. His engine rumbling as your breath hitches.

"You’re safe now," The baritone is a whisper, but it still manages to reverberate around you, "So brave for leaving that slag." It's awkward as his faceplate presses against your neck. A mimicry of human intimacy that has your head leaned at an uncomfortable angle. Yet there is comfort from it regardless. Leaning over you, weight bared on his forearm, Optimus wants only to bring you that comfort.

"He was unworthy of your time." he continues in a rumble, "Unworthy. Weak." Disparaging words aimed towards your ex. The one that had you wandering off alone and weeping when Optimus found you. He had intended to bring you back to the group, but at the sound of your tears, he quietly commed the others that it would be some time.

Gentle words, prying the reason for your sorrows, leading to comforting touch, to this. Splayed out with your shirt shoved up to your neck, trying to unbutton your pants a bit too hastily. The chilled air has your hands numb, and you let out a frustrated sound. Worry in your chest that he will begin berating you for taking too long.

"Shh, shh, shhh." The Prime coos. His Servo cupping closer to you. His whole frame condensing. Kneeling, coddling. Wrapping you in warmth from his buzzing and rumbling body. "Easy... we have time."

He won't rush you, or shame you. As you shake, he continues the gentle, slow path of his thumb. This time, it does not return up. Even through jeans, you feel the warmth of the metal. As he presses it against you, and away. Listening to you take a shuddering breath, and the whimpering exhale. Again and again, a little more pressure, a slightly different angle. Till he manages to press against you just right, the corner of his plating making you squirm.

"There?" Optimus still has his faceplates pressed against your neck. As close to you as he possibly can be. The metal shifting as he smiles. Your reaction all the confirmation he needs, "That right... right... there." His actions continue, and you can't help but grind down against him.

It's a dulled sensation, thanks to your clothes, but the fact it's with him, it's out in the open, your stomach clenches at the thought of being caught, and flips each time he speaks.

"That's it... relax. Don't think about him anymore. He's not worth your time, not your thoughts... Never was."

Who? Your brain can't really think about anyone but Optimus right now. How his whole frame has caged you in, the growl of his engine, the warmth of his systems. The way he teases you, batting your hand away each time you try again to undo your jeans.

"What about you?" You breathe, knowing that he likely would not fit, but you could do something for him?

"This is not about me."

With nothing but a turn of his helm, Optimus is pleased he can still keep himself close to you while his glossa slips out to lavish even more attention on your body. The ridges of the metal tongue catching against your nipples, making you gasp and arch.

Optimus was quite happy to keep the focus on you. On your body, your pleasure, your comfort.

#optimus prime x reader #optimus prime x human #transformers x human #optimus #spicy

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hawkinsbnbg · 7 months ago

Text

honeysuckle

prompts: breeding kink, slap, loud, vibration | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: established steddie, soft dom Eddie, good boy Steve, breeding kink, daddy kink, face slapping, cock cages, prostate milking, barebacking, creampie, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spit kink.

word count: 2k4 | rated: E | ao3

After they went through an almost apocalypse four times together, movie night at Harrington's residence had kind of become a tradition.

The kids were always a delight; loud and boisterous, filling up the previous big and empty house with their seemingly endless energy and excitement; while the older teens made sure to remind Steve that his friends weren't only the children he had been babysitting for years.

And by remind, it meant they would gather in Steve's living room the following night to drink cheap beers and smoke the stash of weeds Argyle brought over.

Normally, it was enough to brighten Steve's whole week. But tonight, though, he was distracted because his boyfriend had a different plan for him.

Steve gnawed his bottom lip as he tried not to squirm, or worse, moan out loud when the vibrator inside him was activated.

Steve exhaled harshly, feeling his cheeks burn with the amount of blood rushing south. He wanted to drag his hand up his thigh and give himself some relief, but he knew he wouldn't find anything except the cockcage Eddie had put on him hours ago.

It felt weird—the good kind of weird—to be so aroused with his dick still remaining placid. The measured, constant buzzing against his prostate made him drool in his briefs, wetting the soft fabric like he was peeing.

It was embarrassing. Reduced him to a sweating mess and filled his mouth with cotton.

Steve silently thanked his lucky star that everyone (except Eddie) was too busy chatting and smoking to notice his face. Because he must've looked quite fucked out right now.

Steve took another big gulp of his beer, his hands trembling minutely. The cold fluid followed his blush and traveled down his navel, spreading wildfire to the very tip of his fingers and toes.

Sitting beside him, Eddie was warm and solid, big hand stroking Steve's knee absently like most men did to their lovers. Like he wasn't driving Steve insane with the tiny controller in his pocket.

Eddie threw his head back in a carefree laugh when Jonathan said something, showing the column of pale throat that Steve wanted to sink his teeth in.

Tearing the delicate skin and sucking blood like a vampire. The ichor would turn honey on his tongue, streaming in his veins and melting his inside to molasses. Cloying and sweet. Red and golden.

Hot. Scorching. Feverish.

"D'you know that female octopuses will die shortly after giving birth?" Robin leaned over from his other side and whispered in his ear.

"What?" Steve turned to give her a ridiculous look, their noses nearly touching. "Really?"

"Yeah," Robin nodded sagely, voice raspy and eyes red due to the weeds. "They'd waste away and die by the time the eggs hatch."

"That's hardly fair," Steve frowned, pouting a little.

He fidgeted and shifted on his seat slightly as his hole pulsed around the vibe. The sedate thrumming made his head fuzzy. It was torturous to sit through it but Eddie instructed him to behave. And who was Steve to disobey his boyfriend?

"Life's never fair, babe," Robin patted his cheek.

Steve swallowed the moan that almost slipped out at the cool touch on his heated skin.

"What about their mates and children?"

"Male octopuses will be either killed and eaten by the females, or also dead months later," Robin poked at his jutted-out bottom lip. "As for the little ones, they do just fine on their own."

Steve mimed biting her finger, which got him shoved. He jolted and let out a yelp when the movements put more pressure on his prostate.

Robin cackled at his pleasure-induced dilemma.

"You okay, Steve?"

He blinked owlishly at Nancy.

Of course, she would be curious about his odd behavior. Besides Robin and Eddie, she was probably one of those who could read him like an open book.

Not so much anymore, a gleeful voice in his head whispered.

Because Steve realized that she hadn't figured out what was happening to him, yet.

Unlike Robin who was sniggering at him. She had been insufferable ever since she caught Eddie dry-humping him last week next to her right on this couch.

It wasn't Steve's fault that Eddie was an energizer bunny, okay? Nor was it Steve's fault when Eddie pulled him into his lap and temped him with that foul mouth, either.

And no matter how many times Robin griped about him being a slut, he still wanted to keep his dignity intact in front of people who weren't her and Eddie.

"Uhm, y– yeah," Steve cleared his throat, tongue heavy now the entire attention was suddenly on him. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Nancy squinted at him, looking as suspiciously as her current state managed. "Aren't you sweating too much?"

"Thanks, Nance, but I'm oka–"

Steve doubled over and choked out a wheeze, biting back his strangled moan when the vibrator's intensity abruptly kicked up.

Fuck. He could feel it in his fucking teeth.

And then it was cut off. Steve let out a whine. Frustrated and close to tears, he glared daggers at Eddie who only smirked at him.

"Whoa, you got a cramp, brochacho?" Argyle voiced his concern from where he was sitting by Robin's feet.

"He's not a girl, dude," Robin guffawed. She seemed always tickled by the simplest things every time she was high.

Steve wisely didn't remind her that guys could get cramps too, but not in the sense she was talking about.

Because the dull ache in his pelvis and his guts made Steve want to roll his eyes back. Made him want to mewl and spread his legs like a cat in heat. Present himself for Eddie without caring about what the others might think about him.

As Robin started telling a blissful Argyle that boys didn't go through periods, the vibrator was turned back on and Steve breathed in slowly. He couldn't lose his shit here. Especially when Nancy was looking at him thoughtfully. Her observation skill was still sharp even in her drunken state.

He stood up on his shaky legs, vision blurry slightly as his prostate was being abused mercilessly.

Eddie stood up as well and reached out to help him, but Steve slapped his hand away before he could think it through.

For a moment, they both stared at each other in stunned silence.

Eddie didn't look upset per se. He looked—

Amused. Like he knew exactly why Steve acted that way and was more than ready to make it worse.

Steve shivered as a slow smile stretched on those plump lips. His inside twisted in a sick thrill, knowing he would've been disciplined by now had they been alone.

Eddie raised his hand again and Steve knew he wouldn't get punished with their friends watching them, but his breath still hitched in anticipation out of habit.

When Eddie cradled the side of his face, gentle and kind, Steve found himself smiling softly.

"Still green, babydoll?"

Nothing mattered anymore. It was just the two of them against the world. And Steve would die in this warmth, in this fondness, in this incredible thing that was love.

"So green, Eddie," he leaned into the touch, needy and shaking. "So green."

"Good boy," Eddie smiled.

The vibration was turned to the max, and Steve stifled his moans with his forearm. Tears welled up in his eyes as they rolled back before squeezing shut.

All Steve could hear was the device's humming in his ears, reverberating throughout his nerves. It was so loud. And he wondered briefly if that was why Robin could tell he was playing Eddie's little game.

Steve felt like he just got sucker punched in his guts. There was too much stimulation and tension that his caged cock couldn't contain.

His knees gave out beneath him and he clung to Eddie with a whimper, sounding small and confused.

Eddie shushed him gently, two strong hands sliding under his thighs and lifting him up as if he weighed nothing. Steve wrapped his limbs around Eddie like an oversized koala, hiding his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and letting his mind drift.

"Guys, feel free to crash overnight. Steve's gotta head to bed now," he dimly heard Eddie announce with a voice that brooked no argument.

———

When Steve returned to reality again, he found himself lying on his bed. Naked and delirious.

He remembered Eddie taking out the vibe from him and dropping it on the bundle of their clothes on the floor.

Eddie kept kissing him, licking his tears and dotting his skin with ardent affection. And Steve held onto him, tilting his chin up to let Eddie deepen the kiss, feeling more inebriated and higher than he was supposed to be.

"Hit me," Steve mumbled, gazing up at Eddie with his big shiny eyes. "Pretty please? I was so bad–"

Eddie slapped him across the face.

Causing Steve's head to turn sideways as his cheek burned with the stinging pain. Eddie did it again to his other cheek and prompted another breathless gasp from him. He wished Eddie still kept those rings on.

"Don't talk about my baby like that," Eddie grabbed his jaw and shook it lightly. "Say: I'm a good boy."

Steve whined, tears clinging to his eyelashes as he sniffled.

"'M a good boy."

"That's right," Eddie smiled at him, tender and sweet, and pried his mouth open with a thumb. "You're a good boy. My good boy. Who deserves a reward for staying on his best behavior all night."

And then Eddie spat onto his tongue.

With a shudder, Steve swallowed it down because it was what good boys did.

"Daddy–"

"Yes, baby?"

"Fuck me."

Two rough taps landed on his red cheeks.

Steve rolled his eyes back with a loud moan. He couldn't tell if he had come or not when his mind slipped further and further down that cottony place.

Settled between his legs, Eddie slid a pillow under his lower back and poured too much lube on him.

"Look how wet you are," Eddie pressed two fingers inside him easily given how loose he already was. "So desperate to get knocked up, aren't you?"

Steve nodded dumbly. He wanted to carry Eddie's babies. Would give Eddie so many babies. Would even let Eddie name them all. As long as Eddie kept him.

"You're mine, pretty baby," Eddie pressed a fond smile on his mouth. Like it was old news and Steve just caught up to it. "Gonna be stuck with me for life whether you want it or not. Don't even think about leaving, sweet boy."

And Steve held the promise close to his heart. There was no place he would rather be than in Eddie's arms.

He heaved out a weak sob when Eddie added a fourth finger and kept stroking his prostate relentlessly.

A quick glance at his cock made him realize that the cage was still on.

He couldn't come like this. But he wanted to. Badly.

"Wanna come–"

"Then come," Eddie kissed him chastely. "Be a good boy and come for Daddy."

Steve listened.

Except, instead of shooting off like usual, he just kept dripping and dripping, forming a puddle on his tummy as his hole pulsed like a heartbeat.

It didn't stop, and if the fluid flowing out wasn't opalescent, Steve would start thinking he was wetting himself.

But no. He was coming without any end goal.

It was new and overwhelming and the best thing Eddie had ever done for him.

"Oh god– I can't–" He gripped his hair to ground himself and failed miserably. "Please–"

He didn't know what he was begging for anymore. Mercy or more.

But Eddie got it, somehow, and slammed home inside him, keeping him from drifting away by the scalding force.

Steve screamed and writhed under Eddie's weight. Too much. He was too sensitive for this. And yet, it still wasn't enough.

"M off my birth control this month," he babbled before Eddie could grow worried and pull out, not wanting the endless onslaught of pleasure to stop. "'My parents will let you have me if I get pregnant with your child–"

Eddie groaned against his neck and hiked his legs higher before setting up a bruising pace, fucking into him deep and brutal as if truly wanting to reach his nonexistent womb.

Steve could barely stay coherent, wailing and scratching his blunt nails on Eddie's back whenever he felt like passing out. Which was a lot.

"You sure your parents won't pull a gun on me, princess?" Eddie panted.

And Steve wanted to die when he pressed a hand on his tummy, holding it possessively.

"Nuh-uh," Steve hiccuped. "They– uh– they won't do that. Would make m– me sad."

"Then we shall get along just fine," Eddie kissed his brow and eyelids, tracing his cheekbones with a hot tongue. "You know why?"

Steve shook his head.

"'Cause we all love you so much, baby boy."

And he came again, or perhaps he had never stopped in the first place. The orgasm rolled over him incessantly, perpetually, hurting his crotch and balls. And Steve just lost it, clenching down on Eddie and moaning his throat hoarse.

Eddie groaned and gave a few stuttered thrusts before filling him up with hot cum, pumping him full to the seams.

"Don't wanna be an octopus," Steve mumbled incoherently, suddenly thinking about the semelparous animals and their one-time pregnancy fate. He wanted to be pregnant all the time however impossible it was.

"You won't be," Eddie brushed a thatch of hair behind his ear gently, reassuring him without questions. "I won't let it happen to you, sweetheart."

"Promise?" Steve rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Cross my heart, angel," Eddie kissed him softly.

———

When he blinked his eyes open again, Eddie was holding him and humming softly, counting his vertebrae with soothing fingers and caressing his body tenderly.

It seemed Eddie had cleaned them both up while Steve was out.

The cockcage was nowhere in sight and he silently mourned the loss of it. At this rate, he would get addicted to the prostate milking if he wasn't careful.

"Missed you, baby," Eddie kissed the tip of his nose.

Steve scrunched his nose in a drowsy smile.

"Missed you, too, Daddy."

He sipped the water Eddie got for him in a cerulean mug before sinking back into those loving arms.

"Wanna stay here for the rest of my life," Steve sighed softly, burying himself in the warmth of his boyfriend's chest.

"Your bed?"

"Your arms."

"They're already yours, darlin'," Eddie chuckled. "Eddie Munson is the freebie, though. Hope you're happy with him."

"Very much so," Steve closed his eyes and pressed his lips on Eddie's chest. "I'm really lucky to have him."

"We're both the lucky ones, sweet boy," Eddie kissed the top of his head.

And Steve wouldn't want it any other way.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smutty september #sionewritesatmidnight

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