#i hate it when i get creases on my air forces

[zeltqz]

feel good - sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader sakusa tells you he's never had a blowjob before so you decide to make him feel good. 18+ NSFW CONTENT

“Wait, you’re serious?!”

That reaction was expected; Kiyoomi had already practiced, and rehearsed his explanation in his head countless times as to why he’s never made a girl cum before and always refused blowjobs.

“You’ve never made a girl finish?” You watch as he shrugs his shoulders, mumbling something about it not being a big deal, and leans forward to grab another beer, cracking it open easily and downs it, hoping to get drunk enough to not remember this conversation in the morning.

“Kiyoomi! Don’t just drink your problems away!” He dodges your hand reaching for his beer can, swatting you away casually. 

“I’m not doing that.” He takes another swig, and you scoff, moving back to your spot on the couch. 

“And you’ve never had a blowjob? Why?”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Just don’t see the appeal of it.”

“Appeal of what? Pleasure? You know it feels good, right?” 

He gives you a sidelong glance, finishing up the rest of his drink then tossing the can onto the table. You slide up a little closer, your knee brushing against his thigh. “You don’t wanna feel good, Omi?”

Kiyoomi hates the way you say his name, the way you give it a little kick that runs straight to his cock. He hates the way you look up at him as you ask if he wants to feel good. 

“Personal space.” His thigh, built from years of training, muscle firm and thick, knudges against your knee with enough force to push you back, giving him back the pleasant space between you both.

It doesn’t help much, though, as the scent of your perfume and shampoo still lingers. 

“ Omi, please. I want to make you feel good. I want your first ever blowjob—”

Sakusa sighs, rubbing an agitated hand across his forehead. “Don’t call it that.”

“That’s what it is!” You flap your arms in the air. “What should I call it instead? Sucky fucky? Mouth to dick resuscitation? Dick in—”

One second you were running your mouth, the next your mouth was occupied with his tongue, licking into you with such fervor. Your eyes squeeze shut when you come to the realisation that this is real, this is happening. 

His warm, calloused hands hold a tight grip on your face as you shift forward, reclosing the space between you both. You topple on top of him when he roughly grabs your hips, tugging you on top of him.

“W—wait, wait—” You hold your breath for a second when he parts away from you, watching the line of spit trailing from your mouth to his snap.

“What?” He sounds breathless, irritated, hands tugging at the zipper on your shorts, eager to rip it off your body now that he’s in the mood.

It’s weird seeing him like this. Kiyoomi is a classified neat freak, always smoothening the creases on his shirt, never liking things out of place, angrily wiping the spit off his face when Atsumu sprays it, rather than saying it. 

“Why won’t this come off?” You giggle at his impatience, grabbing his wrists and relishing in the confused look on his face as you manevour yourself atop of him. 

“ I wanted to make you feel good. Remember?” Your voice sounds sweet, syrupy, beside his ear, slowly trailing your lips down the side of his cheek. “You gonna let me?”

His adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, sucking in a long, winded inhale as his eyes dart over your face, testing his patience, his resilience when you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. 

“Hurry up. Before I change my mind.”

You roll your eyes playfully, reaching inside to pull his cock out. It was thick in your hand, long and flushed from base to tip. The sparkle in your eyes at his go-to sends a tingle coursing through him, the shimmy of your hips as you tug his shorts down. “Gonna make you feel so good, Omi.”

“Stop talking.” He exhales at the feeling of your tongue tracing shapes onto the outline of his cock, evident and thick through his boxers. Sakusa watches you with hooded eyes, shoulders tensing when you fist at his cock, dragging your hand up slowly, then back down. 

You shift a little closer, resting your thumb on the top of his shaft, cautiously bracing your hands along his thigh, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

When your lips were slick with spit, you inch forward, engulfing the tip of his cock into your hot mouth. He groans unexpectedly, not expecting the sudden warmth to surround his cock. 

“Oh fuck —” It shouldn’t turn you on this much hearing him so breathless when you haven’t even done anything yet. Mouth full of cock, unable to speak, you hide your retort on your tongue, sliding your tongue languidly down his shaft. 

He throws his head back, giving you a delicious view of his throat, saliva pooling in your mouth with the urge to bite at it. After a couple moments of staring at the sweat sliding from his jaw, you tap at his thigh to grab his attention. “Keep your eyes on me, Omi.” 

Your words are muffled, and watered down by the amount of saliva in your mouth, pulling away to let it fall onto the tip before sucking it back into your mouth. 

He’s struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of your mouth teasing gently at his cock, and internally thanks you for bringing this topic up because damn, he was missing out. He understands now; understands why whenever Atsumu meets a pretty girl with nice lips— his words, not Kiyoomi’s— he’s taking her upstairs for some fun.

The sight of you makes his cock twitch, accompanied by the moan you let out once you feel it. It’s getting messier, his heavy breathing is getting louder. Saliva pooling from your mouth drips down, and he’s catching it using the tip of his thumb, his mind a nest of fog and haze as he tries to focus on the warm suction of your mouth.

“Shit.” 

His hips jerk forward and you choke, your tight throat convulsing around his tip, and he would feel bad at how the sound of you choking turned him on more, had him wanting to tangle his fingers in your hair and push you down to slip himself further inside your tight throat. He would feel bad about that, if it wasn’t for your body rising, hips shimmying from side to side as you brace your hands on his hips for leverage, taking his cock deeper in your mouth. 

He’s so thick inside you, your jaw aches, and your eyes are pooling with tears, but you’re desperate to hear that noise once more, that choked off moan he let out when he let his guard down. 

He watches with focused eyes as the tears gather at the corner of your eyes, watches the way they threaten to fall as you suck a little harder at his cock.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He can’t help himself, and you freeze when you hear it, giving your jaw a temporary lunch break, flicking your eyes up to him. The sight of him is gorgeous; his lips are parted slightly, broad chest expanding and deflating as he struggles to catch his breath. 

The only time you’ve seen him this breathless is after a long day of practice. 

You forget where you are and what you’re doing, mouth vibrating around his cock as you try to call him pretty too. He groans, a low sound that sends a tingle straight down to your legs, fighting back the urge to touch yourself. 

He watches as you swallow him back down, as you peek up at him through your lashes, as you hold the heated eye contact for a moment before closing your eyes, focusing on pushing him closer to his peak.

He wants to be louder, wants you to let him know how good you feel, how warm your mouth is, but it’s like he’s tongue tied, only making subtle grunts when he slips too far down your throat. 

You moan around his cock, back arching in a way that he can see the long slope of your body, hands tingling with the urge to fuck you into the couch.

There’s a ticklish feeling down by his balls and he jerks his eyes away from your body, down to your hands. You tug gently, rolling them between your soft fingertips. 

“Fuc—fuck—” He stutters out, hips thrusting forward one time more, burying himself in the heat of your mouth, hot cum spilling out beyond his control. 

Your cheeks hollow as you suck the rest of his cum from his tip, humming to lure the rest out. His hands tangle in your hair and he’s pulling you off his cock with a gasp.

Your hands fly to your throat, massaging it from the outside to ease the burn, and he watches, breathlessly panting, as you compose yourself.

“So—” You cough, and he notices how hoarse your voice is. “Feel good?”

He could lie; could keep his ego and watch you frown and attempt to suck him off again because you’re you, and you never back down from a challenge.

When he’s silent, the frown on your lips play anyway, and as you inch forward, he shifts back, until you’re on top of him, caging him in with your arms beside his head. 

He meets you halfway when you lean down,  capturing your lips together in a heated kiss. He can taste himself on your tongue and despite how disgusting that makes him feel, the twitch of his cock tells a different story. He’s licking into your mouth, eager to drive the taste of him away, now desperate to taste you. 

With a push, your back hits the couch gently, and you bite at your lip as he flips the position, caging you in this time. You smile up at him, hands sliding along the length of his arms to tangle behind his neck. “You never answered my question, Omi.”

“Shut up.” Your grin grows, inching upwards to kiss him, your lips brushing his cheek as he looks down to your shorts, unzipping them all the way before sliding them off. You gasp as he tugs you forward, bending down so his lips brush yours. “Lemme make you feel good.”

#—hq </3 #sakusa smut #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa fic #sakusa imagine #hq smut #haikyuu smut

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i hate this title but i LOVE this fic! i had so much fun writing it, obviously inspired by the tik tok trend lol. also when i started this fic last week, the cookies were different but then this week actually did include banana cream pie so i had to change them 😂 and then had to do a little rewrite obviously. but yeah, go check out the isles q&a on their favorite desserts bc they’re all adorable

tw: tooth rotting fluff, extremely minor insinuation of a daddy kink

word count: 2.3k

summary: you take advantage of mat’s sweet tooth to trick him into doing a tik tok video with you

“Hey,” you call out for Mat from your perch on the couch, one foot wedged in between the couch cushions and your phone resting on your thigh. You can hear him rummaging around in the fridge and the noise stops temporarily.

“Hey,” he calls back, “what’s going on?” The rummaging noises start up again and you grin to yourself. If he’s hungry, your little plan will work perfectly.

You crunch up into a sitting position and drape your arms over the back of the couch, watching Mat as he moves things around in the fridge, looking for something to eat. “Do you want to go to Chip City with me?” You ask. “I want to make like one of those TikToks, you know where they rate the cookies of the week?”

Mat’s nodding and closing the fridge before you even finish speaking. “Oh, hell fucking yes,” he grins, skirting around the kitchen island and stopping behind the couch. You reach out and tug at the belt loops on his jeans, laughing. “You know I’m always down for cookies.”

“I know,” you tease, unfolding from the couch and getting to your feet. “That’s why I suggested it. I can always count on you to validate my sugar cravings.”

He smiles his crooked little smile and readjusts his hat, the new Stay GOALd collaboration with Ralph Macchio, raking his hand through his hair before settling the hat on backwards. Your stomach flips a little at how good he looks. “Babe, we need to stop talking and start driving,” he says, totally seriously.

“Chill, Cookie Monster,” you follow him to the front door, stepping into your ratty Forces. The leather is more grey than white now and creased beyond belief, but they’re comfortable and you can slide them on and off without having to do the laces. “I doubt they’re going to run out of cookies in the ten minutes it takes to get there.”

“Never know,” Mat shrugs, tossing your car keys at you. You barely catch them, fumbling a little before your fingers hook on the beaded keychain. “Your car’s behind mine, you drive?”

You wrinkle your nose, when Mat’s home you’d rather be the passenger princess, but you also hate it when he readjusts your seat to fit his longer legs. “Fine,” you mumble, locking the door behind him, “but that’s the last bit of driving I’m doing all weekend.”

He swoops in to press a kiss to your forehead, “your wish is my command, Princess Squeaks.”

With a delighted smile, you hop into the driver’s seat of your car, turning it on while Mat buckles up in the passenger seat. He leans back in the seat, the brim of his backwards cap hitting against the headrest and popping the front of the hat off his head. “Damn,” he mutters, quickly fixing it and sitting forward. “So, wait, if you make one of those videos, what are the chances we get a Chip City influencer deal? Are we looking at free cookies for life?”

“Um, no,” you wince when you take a turn a little too quickly, clipping the curb. Hoping Mat will ignore that, you continue quickly, “I don’t think free cookies for life is a thing? Maybe some like coupons or extra point perks? Honestly, it’ll probably be nothing other than a comment and a like.”

“For life will be a really short period if you keep driving like a blind lunatic,” Mat teases you, laughing loudly when you lift your hand from the steering wheel to flip him off.

“You’re the one who told me to drive,” you counter.

Mat snags your hand out of the air and laces his fingers with yours, settling the back of his hand on the center console. “That’s only because I forgot what an insane driver you are,” he laughs, dramatically letting his body bounce forward and back in the seat when you come to a sharp stop at a red light.

You roll your eyes and make a point of driving exactly the speed limit and taking turns super carefully until you pull into the parking lot. When he hops out of the car, Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side. You snuggle up, wrapping your arm around his waist, car keys jangling in your hand as you walk. “Babe, you can drive like Vin Diesel all you want when I’m not in the car,” he says as you walk up the sidewalk to Chip City. “Lou might consider it a breach of my contract if you drive like that when I’m in the passenger seat.”

“Breach of contract!?” You yelp, pinching his side while he lets loose one of his contagiously loud laughs. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“But you love me,” Mat states matter-of-factly, breaking contact with you to pull open the door and hold it for you. You hum happily, immediately hit with the delicious scent of baked cookies. Behind you, Mat lets out a quiet groan and you laugh at his dramatics. “Jesus, it always smells so good in here,” he falls into line behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“If I worked here, I’d be three hundred pounds from sampling cookies every day,” you comment, turning to the mirror on the wall and lining up your face with the milk moustache decal for a selfie. You nudge Mat into place next to you and he crinkles his whole face up into a cheesy grin just for you. You snap the picture and shuffle forward as the person at the register leaves, moving the line up. Mat shuffles behind you, stepping on the heels of your sneakers and mumbling apologies.

While you wait, you look at the merch on the walls, joking with Mat that you’re going to get him the cookie shaped backpack for him to put his stuff in on game days. Before he can retort, you’re at the case and the worker is asking you how many cookies you want.

“Um, let’s do six?” You say, voice ticking up in a question for Mat. He nods, barely listening to you as he squints at the cookies. They’ll be gone in two days.

“Definitely need the cookies and cream,s’mores and oh, fuck yes, banana cream pie,” he points at each cookie as he names the flavor. “Babe?”

“I’ll do the specialty ones,” you say, “dark chocolate peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia, and brookie, please.”

“I love bananan cream pie cookie week,” Mat comments dreamily, looking like Pepe Le Pew when the cartoon skunk’s eyes turn into hearts when he spots the female skunk. He grins at you when you stick your finger in your mouth, fake gagging.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you shake your head. “Your love for banana cream pie is your biggest red flag.”

The woman behind the counter boxes everything up and you tap in your phone number to get rewards points before stepping to the side so Mat can pay. He smirks at you, tapping his card against the reader, and quietly, so no one else can hear, murmurs, “say ‘thank you, daddy.’”

A laugh startles out of your chest and you shake your head, cheeks flushing hot. “No, nope. I’m not saying that, Mathew.” Your fingers tremble a little around the box of cookies.

Mat’s hand is huge and warm on your lower back as he guides you out of the store, the sudden cool air a relief to your cheeks. He chuckles and flexes his fingers against your back. “Worth a shot,” he teases. “One day I’m gonna get you to say it.”

“It won’t be of my own accord,” you wrinkle your nose at him, stomach flipping a little bit. You refuse to analyze the excitement building low in your stomach and instead march determinedly back to your car. You had a plan for today and it didn’t involve Mat being called ‘daddy’ in a public place. Or any place. Or ever.

“We’ll see,” Mat jokes, pulling open the door for you to hop in and then going around the front of the car to get in on the passenger side. You drop the cookie box on his lap and he immediately picks at the tape holding it shut with his thumbnail, ready to snag a bite.

“Wait for me to get set up!” You chastise him, flicking his fingers away from the box with one hand and pulling up TikTok with the other.

Mat keeps picking at the tape, “no one’s gonna notice, I’ll just break it in half.” He finally manages to get the tape off and pops the lid open, dramatically inhaling the scent of the cookies. “Oh, fuck yes. Babe, what a good idea.”

You grin at him and make sure your phone is set in the holder attached to your windshield so both you and Mat are in the shot. “I literally only have good ideas,” you pull the box of cookies back into your lap, ignoring Mat’s protests. ���Ready?”

He nods and you reach forward to start the recording. “Hi guys!” You chirp into the camera. “Happy Saturday, Mat has a rare day off so I decided to rope him into my fun. Say hi, Mat.”

Mat looks up from his phone and parrots, “hi, Mat,” with a shit eating grin on his face.

“He’s the worst,” you roll your eyes affectionately and hold up the cookie box so it’s in frame. “Anyway, I wanted to do something different than the usual Crumbl cookie sampling, and since Chip City is in our town, I figured this was the best thing. I invited Mat, because, well, I’m not sure if you know this but my husband has the biggest sweet tooth.”

You fight to keep your face in a neutral expression, but can’t help the corner of your mouth ticking up when you see Mat’s eyebrows lift nearly into his hairline on screen. His own mouth tips down in a slight, curious frown, but he doesn’t say anything.

So you continue, “it’s not anything like my mother-in-law’s peach cobbler, but Mat will kill a chocolate chip cookie in record time.” You shift in your seat, turning to face him, and keep your gaze locked on a point in the middle of his forehead, because if you look him in the eye, you’ll crack up. “Which do you want to try first, babe? Wait, let me guess, banana cream pie?”

There’s amusement in his tone when he holds out his hand and says, “oh for sure. Hand it over!”

He squints at you and you avoid his gaze when you pass over the cookie. Pretending to think, you look down at the box, “I’m going to try the dark chocolate peanut butter first, I think. Unlike my husband,” you smile at the camera, holding up the cookie while you break it in half to show the melted peanut butter swirls on the inside, “I like my desserts a little less sweet. Lemon bars, carrot cake, cheesecake, that kind of thing. Last week was lemon berry, which is a top three cookie for me.”

You can see Mat jolt in surprise again on screen, his head swinging to look at you. His eyes are wide and his lips are fighting a laugh.

“Yeah,” Mat smirks at the camera, breaking his own cookie in half and taking a huge bite. He chews and swallows before continuing, “the wifey is pretty picky on her desserts.”

Mat’s words sink in and you do a double take, jaw falling open a little. Mat’s grin turns shit eating and he takes another huge bite of his cookie while you blink stupidly at him. “What-?” You frown, ignoring the way your heart is pounding and your stomach is clenching with the echo of Mat saying ‘wifey’ in your ear.

He licks a spot of whipped cream off the side of his thumb and your core throbs.

“Uno reverse, Squeaks,” Mat laughs. “Do you think you’re the only one with Tik Tok?”

“Oooh,” you scrunch your face up at him, “you knew what I was up to?” He nods and your hand shoots out to push at his shoulder.

“Hey!” He yelps, chuckling. “I figured it out when you referred to Mom as your mother-in-law.”

You put your cookie back in the box and tap the record button on your phone, ending the video. “I honestly thought you’d have a better reaction,” you laugh a little, pulling your left foot up onto the seat and turning completely so you’re facing Mat. You shift the box too, so it’s on top of the center console.

Mat talks as he swaps out his banana cream pie for a piece of the s’mores, a string of marshmallow connecting the broken piece from the rest in the box, “why? Not a secret that I’m gonna wife you up in the future. I like hearing you call me your husband.”

He says it so casually, so easily, that it shocks you a little. When you first met Mat, you had thought dating him would be a fun time, but you’d never imagined that you’d be here - with him talking about marriage as if it’s a foregone conclusion.

“Well,” you murmur, feeling warm and content, “for the record, I liked hearing you call me wifey. So I guess we’re even.”

Mat looks up at you, hazel eyes lit up and glowing where the sun hits his face. He looks even more edible than the cookies. “You called me husband twice, don’t think we’re even just yet…” he drags out the pause with a sly smile on his face and you think he may use the w-word again, but he just lets the silence linger, the possibility hanging in the air.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal headcanon #mat barzal fic

[peachyloveswriting]

What would Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives do about sick reader? Like reader knew they had been getting sick for a few days but saying stuff like "I sneezed from the dusty sand" or "I choked on my spit. I wasn't coughing. " they keep coming up with stuff to say till they have a fever and collapse.

YES. MORE FOR KNIVES. I actually really enjoy writing for knives. He's such a complicated character to get right because he hates humans and more often than not the reader is portrayed as human. His feelings are so contradictory but I love it.

You're Only Human (After all)

SUMMARY: Vash, Wolfwood, and Naï, find out that you've been hiding a sickness from them. The outcome feels like a nightmare come true.

NOTES: Vash and knives parts are very long. There's a shit ton of angst but there's also hurt/comfort. I'd say it took me 16 hrs total from start to finish and that's partially because a huge part of Kives original part got deleted and yeah... I couldn't remember some of it. Enjoy tho lol.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Vash

Setting up camp for the night was no easy task, getting up to gather what everyone needs to sleep comfortably while helping Meryl set up her own tent. Yours always comes last and before you can even finish Roberto is asking you to help him cook. You never stop working and seize every opportunity to stay on your feet, the restlessness that comes with stagnancy kills you. Through constantly throwing yourself into work is painful and tiring, it's been even more so than usual.

"Hey kid. Come and help with this roast."

You ignore Roberto's request, too tired to even think straight much less give a coherent thought, only curling further into the backseat of the truck. In the back of your throat has settled an itch, one that's not quite there but prominent enough to make you force down a cough. It bubbles up suddenly, making you gasp for air in-between coughs. Your throat burns in pain and tenses as it stops.

Soft foot steps pad up to the open door. Meryl peeks in at you with worry before she fixes herself right. "Uh... Sorry if I'm bothering you but could you help me with my tent again?" She clasps her hands together, eagerly waiting for your answer.

Nick watches from the outside of his own tent, gazing at your still form while his hands blindly settle the cross firmly into the sand. He doesn't decide to speak until Meryl extends a hand to tap you. "I'll do it." He offers.

Meryl turns to look at him with a disgruntled smile. "Thanks?" He scoffs. "Yup. Don't mention it. And close the door while you're at it."

Meryl looks at your limp form, not wanting to close any limbs in the door she checks just to be sure before she carefully closes the door. Just before walking away she takes one last peek inside to see if she disturbed you but you haven't moved an inch. Taking a deep breath she turns to stand beside Nick while he puts her tent together.

The night carried on and with it came Vash. To everyone else the night went on as usual but to Vash, a part of him was missing. When he looked for your tent he was sad to find that it hadn't been set up at all. This only worried the blonde further. His stomach would churn with unease the further he looked around. There was no sign on you anywhere. Just as he was about to peek around the truck, a soft finger tapped his shoulder. He turned to find Meryl gazing up at him.

"If you're looking for them..." She points to the truck. "They've been there all evening."

Hia gaze follows her pointed finger to the backseat of the truck. Offering her thanks, he rushes over to the truck and pulls open the door. You lay curled up on the farthest side away from him, your face hidden and tucked away in your arms. Face softening, Vash climbs into the empty space by your feel and closes the door behind him, ensuring privacy.

"Mayfly?" He leans over curiously, his hand slipping under your chin to lift your face into view. You grimace, your head swimming in agony and dizziness. "Are you okay?" His cries crease in concern.

Lazily, you lift a hand to swat him away. Setting your head back on your arms he lifts the back of his hand to your forehead. "You feel hot. Maybe you should get out of the car. Get some fresh air." His hand brushes over your head in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine." He smiles at your half-hearted grumble.

"If you say so..." Swiftly grabbing your shoulder, Vash scoops you up into his arms with ease and scoots to press his back to the door. He spreads his legs and leans back just enough for you to lay comfortably on his chest. You're just lethargic enough that you flop against him, no resistance whatsoever.

He stayed with you until the morning, upset when he kept waking up to you practicing choking in your sleep. Every time he raises a hand to your forehead it burns his skin. You were certainly running a fever of some kind or at the very least sick, he's never seen you so lethargic before. You've always stayed on your feet, working yourself to the brink, till' your legs won't carry you anymore. This might just be one of those spells but you never left the truck. Even when he got out to help everyone pack up you didn't move.

When everyone gathered inside the truck, you didn't move, allowing yourself to get shoved around to make room for Wolfwood and Vash. As Vash climbed in, he scowled at the priest who shoved you about as if you were some object he could just discard. Gently scooping you far enough to slide in. he laid you back down in his lap and held you close, allowing you to get some rather comfortable rest. Hours later, you woke up in a daze. The heat consuming you from head to toe is unbearable, breathing comes harshly.

You can see legs moving through the sand below you as you wake up but very quickly realize they're not yours. You begin to feel hands under each of your knees and your body pressed against another. Below you, Vash's coat flaps into view, the edges of it tugging about with each step.

You groan, dizzy from the heat and disoriented. Your head is reeling about, begging to go back to sleep and crying at the same time. Every part of you aches and your throat feels like it's been grated like fine cheese.

"You're awake!" Vash turns his head to look at you nuzzled into his shoulder. Swallowing harshly, you lift your head to glance at him. "Where are we?"

You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding like a decrepit frog that smokes cigarettes. It feels like you haven't drank in forever and your stomach rumbles angrily. Suddenly Vash jumps to keep you up on his back, you whine at the sudden jolt and dig your hands into the chest of his shirt. He grimaces at your painful response.

"You okay?" Forcing yourself to right yourself, you begin to wriggle in his hold. "M' fine. Put me down."

Vash's brows creased with worry. "Are you sure? You've-"

Pushing from his hold you fall into the scorching sands. Hissing in pain, you jump to your feet jostling your brain into a wave of vertigo. Your hand shoots out to find purchase while your vision grows dark. Tingles flood your body as a low dull pain pulses in your head. Two arms scoop you up into security, keeping you from falling back into the hot sands. "Whoa!"

Vash steadies you as you lean against him limply for help. "Slow down. You're not well." His hands move to your shoulders. A long drawn out couch slips from your lips. You shake away from his hole to walk towards the group, they're way ahead of you occasionally glancing back to stop and wait. "I'm fine."

You trudge forward at your own discretion and Vash follows closely behind. "Let me carry you Mayfly." A hand comes to rest at the small of your back. Beneath you, your legs shake horribly, threatening to lose your balance. It's hard just to push forward in the sand without wincing from the sore ache that settles into your bones. "I'll be fine, Vash."

The desert becomes distant, a cold covering your whole body like ice. "I'm..." The sky began to darken, blotting out the light from the suns and the sand beneath you.

"oh!" Slipping forward, Vash stretches an arm over your chest to stop your falling body from collapsing in the sand. The over exertion is obvious and your body makes it hard to deny. Vash can see it clearly, the bleary look in your eyes as he scoops your bridal style in his arms. Gazing down at you with an unreadable expression, he shakes his head. "How long has this been going on?"

You roll your head into his chest, shielding your eyes from the suns. Breathing in to speak you choke out a cough, you can hardly catch a breath in-between. When you finish, your head falls back softly. "A few weeks ago." You mumble weakly.

A frown settles upon his lips as he looks ahead at the horizon, the glare on his shades stops you from seeing his eyes. Those are always a dead give away for how he's feeling. Those shades work wonders for him.

Taking a shaky breath, you relax in Vash's arms. "Don't worry. I'll take you to a doctor. You should rest until then."

You shake your head. "Won't you get tired of carrying me?"

He looks back down at you smiling softly. The smile reaches up to his eyes, softening his gaze and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. "I will. It's okay, I'm supposed to take care of you Mayfly. Just rest." His voice is so soft he's almost whispering. It makes a heat swirl in your chest as you close your eyes.

"I'm sorry Vash."

He chuckles. "It's alright my love."

Wolfwood

Sweat beads along your forehead as you follow the giant wandering cross in front of you. Your wavering pace slows you down even more the longer you push forward. It's so far away now. When was the last time you even had water? God, you can't remember. Trudging through the sands makes the ache in your already sore leg grow worse, you can barely lift your feet from the ground.

Breathing is a labor, it burns your lungs with each breath you take, the longer you go without calling for Nick's help the more dire this starts to become. The dull ache in your head is pounding with the intensity of the suns and your body grows weaker. You regret lying to Nick before he ran out of gas, you knew them you should have said something but the situation was bad enough. You thought saying something then would only cause more worry to settle in Nick's mind and you didn't want to burden him.

Suddenly, searing hot pain blossoms on your exposed skin and sand hugs your body as it lands. Your mind is foggy and blank, you watch Nick grow smaller in the distance not even bothering to look back at you. You rasp his name but your throat doesn't allow you to call any louder than a simple talking tone. After traveling with Nick everywhere, you never thought it would end like this, laying in the sand pathetically sick because of your irrational fear and Inability to ask for help.

Suddenly, in the distance. The space between you and Nick closes in. He runs towards you, tossing the cross all about on his back. Distantly you can hear him call your name for the first time ever, he's only ever called you by silly nicknames. You don't give much care to mutter a response and sink into the sand.

Panic squeezes in Nick's chest and he drops his cross beside him to tend to you. Grabbing your shoulders he turns you over and sits you up in his lap. "C'mon. Don't fall asleep." He begs.

You cough up a laugh. The concern in his face grows even more severe with your seeming obliviousness to the situation. "I'm fine..." You want to shrug him off so bad but even moving feels like hell.

Heart pounding in his chest, Nick swallows harshly "You haven't been fine since we got stranded, have you?" The back of his hand feels freezing as he presses it to your forehead. You grimace with discomfort and whine. "I'm not stupid." Carefully, he stands with you in his arms.

As he turns to walk away you spot his cross on the ground. "Your cross..." Nick acknowledges it with a hum. His face is stern, pointedly staring straight again with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'll get it back later. You need medical attention first."

You smile. "So you're saying you care?"

His grip on you begins to tighten. *Of course I do! Don't fucking scare me like that again." He growls.

"Sure." Sleep tugs your eyes closed, pulling at your weight the less conscious you become. Nick glares down at you, squeezing you tighter against him. He feels your body grow limp in his arms, heart dropping to his stomach.

"What did I say? Don't fall asleep." You're jostled awake with a groan. "Just let me sleep. Please."

"And if you don't wake up again?" He's become eerily nonchalant. "What then?" The edge in his voice shakes with worry, tracing the thoughts of what might unfold after your death. His chest aches at the thought of losing you and he won't say it but he's scared of losing you. "It'll kill me..."

Nick will never admit it but you do more for him then he lets on. Your company alone could last him a lifetime, your smile, it could make him happy forever. Everything about you fixes everything bad about him and he's not ready to give that up. Especially not over some silly illness. Hearing his words and understanding what he means, you coo quietly and rest your hand over his heart. Your touch quells his fraying nerves.

"I drag you down Nico." Your heart weighs heavy in your chest. "It might be better if you leave me behind."

Stomach clenching wearily, Nick grunts. "No." Venoms laces his tongue. "You idiot. I love you too much to do that." You gaze at him in surprise. "Don't look at me like that. I said what I said. You should just be quiet and conserve your energy."

Hesitant, you gaze at him for a few moments longer before letting your head rest carefully against his chest. "I'll get you help. Just hang in there."

Millions Knives

Sitting beside Naï, he plays the piano. Quietly, you watch his fingers dance over the keys as they belt out a dramatic yet familiar melody. It strikes the soul as misunderstood, you know it well. Many times has Naï played this song in your presence. You've heard everything he plays, as his words command you stay by his side under his watchful eye. Many of his followers take this as a sign of mistrust, a show that the human race will never take his attention. Naï has said to you before: "Hear me and believe my word. My trust in you is not misguided, I only wish to protect you from those who wish to harm you."

Despite hating humans, Naï knows his fair share about the ways they operate. He understands the delicacy of your body and handles it with immense measure and meticulous care. He keeps you near to prevent his followers from making a move to take your life. For him, he even strives to understand more about you, to protect you. His care for you and your well-being runs deep, although Naï doesn't quite understand why it's you he's so careful about, he understands that you make him feel something.

Naï, even in his own strange way, shows that he cares for you. He appreciates the company you keep him and he's not foreign with thanking you. Just the same your appreciation runs deep, he offers you friendship, safety, food, and a place to lay your head at night. Above all else, his friendship and company you find the most rewarding, to know so much about him is to see under his facade. Knowing that underneath all of those sharp blades, a gentle, and caring man resides. Only sparing himself to his closet confidants.

Beautifully, the keys fade into an epilogue, an ending to the story it once opened with. You find that as you watch with a smile your lungs begin to burn. A cough tries to bubble its way past your lips, it takes your breath away and chokes you on the way out. Turning away to cover your mouth, you find it hard to catch your breath and tears blur your vision. The melody that had once carried through the room now falls silent in the stead of your sputtering.

Worry tingles in Naï's chest as you gasp for air beside him, he's unsure of what to do or what this is. His knowledge might be expansive but he still has so much to learn, about sickness, potential threats, the many causes of death. His lack of awareness makes his heart quell with concern and his mind reel is fear.

"Are you alright?" His voice carries through the harmonious room. Tentatively his hand hovers over your back.

You wipe the tears from your eyes to see his angelic face clearly. "It's okay Naï, just choked on my spit."

Cautiously, he looks you over with care checking for abnormalities along your external appearance. Your eyes are dark and lightly sunken, despite noticing this fast Naï goes along with your word and nods in earnest. You feel scrutinized under his gaze, like he's judging every part of you without ever saying a word.

"Choked?" He queries. "Is this choking, dangerous?" His brows crease with worry.

"Well..." Recalling gasping for air, the onslaught of coughing as it keeps you from breathing in deep enough to catch your breath makes you choose your next words with ease. "Yes. It can be, depending on the circumstances. But it can also be prevented"

Intensely focused, Naï nods. "How can this be prevented?" His absolute attention is always divulged onto you anytime you talk, it's endearing, the way he listens to every detail. Nothing you've said has ever been forgotten by him, he remembers everything, making it a point to bring it up when useful later on. It tells you that he cares about what you have to say, knowing that makes your heart soar.

"Drinking a glass of water, or anything of likeness, then there's the heimlich. You should ask Con'rad about that if you want to understand it." Although many of the things that Naï knows about humans have been acquired through you, there are many things you can't find the energy to explain. Best someone else with more knowledge explains it to avoid any confusion.

"I'll go visit him then." Naï stands. "Come. I'll escort you to the room." Gently, you hold his outstretched hand, letting it guide you to your feet. He holds it gingerly as he pulls you alongside him. His hand is soft and warm, inhumanely so, you find comfort in his warmth.

The more time chugs along the more you begin to realize you've fallen I'll, coughing spells out of nowhere, extreme fatigue, loss of appetite. The coughing grows worse with intensity, burning your sore throat, your body wastes energy faster, and waking up in the morning becomes a difficult task. For longer times you would lay in bed seeking the comfort of your companion, Naï, despite hiding your growing illness from him. He's buying into what you told him, though it won't last for very long. If he's really that worried he'll seek the knowledge of Con'rad once again.

He knows your habits even down to the smallest details, including your sleep schedule. Though sleep is the only time he lets you spend alone, that's only in his room, the only ones allowed inside are you and him. As far as his knowledge goes, since you last went in about a day ago, no one has bothered to enter. Not even Naï himself would go to see you. He figured you only needed a little alone time before you might come out again to grace him with your company. The time rolled around for you to come out but the door never opened, Naï waited in anticipation, trying to stace off the minutes to spare you time.

The paranoia got to him before you could.

The whole time you've been inside he's only let the door out of his sight once, for only a short amount of time. Very few people would dare enter knowing what punishment would await them if he ever found out but just the thought of someone going in and hurting you... It makes his blood boil. He paces just outside with worry and frustration beginning to build just beneath the surface. He has to know you're okay, he has to hear you speak... No. No, he needs something more... He has to see you physically. Otherwise, he might just lose his mind wondering what awaits him inside.

Eager to finally see your face again, to hear your voice and feel your touch, he pushes the door open. Eyes scouring the darkness for your form he finally spots you laying still beneath the covers of his bed, you make no sound as the door closes and you stay still even as he says your name. In his chest, his heart begins to pound wildly, sending the rest of his body into a frenzy of feelings.

He rushes to the bedside, a singular blade extending to turn the lights on. The darkness cowers away at the flick of a switch and your form is revealed amongst his mattress. Almost stripped bare of your clothes you lay unmoving, almost as if the life from inside you has been drained. Chest straining, Naï climbs over top of your body lowering his head to your chest, your skin feels cold against his ear as he listens for a heartbeat.

Just underneath your delicate skin beats the rhythm of your life, it beats on even as you lay utterly still. Naï can feel his shoulders relax, the sound of your heart telling him that you're indeed still alive, but as he pulls away to further examine you he knows something's not quite right. it makes his stomach churn with unease. Your skin tone seems off, like something's not quite the same as it was before.

As softly as he can, Naï shakes your body. After the first movement he expects you to come to life with a groan but you don't move. If your heart is still beating, why won't you wake up?

"My flower, wake up. You've slept long enough. I need your company by my side." He shakes you harder this time. "Petal, wake up. I demand it." He tries to sound like he normally does when addressing everyone else but he can't seem to find it in himself to truly yell at you, to demand something of you. Especially not when you're stripped of your freedom at this moment.

Naï's throat tightens, his brows creasing with worry and fear. He's so confused, you usually wake up when he calls for you but now he's got nothing. It scares him, knowing just how fragile you really are, it aside now that he rushes you to Con'rad.

Before he parts to the lab, he envelopes your exposed body in his cloak and carries you in his arms. Nothing like this takes more than the blink of an eye, Con'rad barely even has time to process his master's sudden appearance. Everything is thrust at him at once, the fear and confusion that riddles Naï's face when he presents you to Con'rad, how he begs for him to find out what's wrong, to fix you.

Con'rad frowns at your unconscious body as he takes you from his master's arms. "Careful! Don't hurt them." Naï warns.

Con'rad can only cast him a glance before he sets you down on a table, he collects his supplies needed to check you over and watches as Naï retracts the cloak that is wrapped so tightly around your body.

To plants, a decade is only supposed to feel like a day. So why did Naï feel like it had already been years when it was only minutes. He stared at you intently, waiting for you to wake up, willing you to do something. But you didn't move at all. Naï was anxious from tip to bottom, so to quell his nerves Con'rad began explaining things to him.

"Like we discussed, humans are susceptible to many things, illness being one of them. Should a person go an extended amount of time without medication or medical attention, it can cause death. This happens to be the case with your friend. You're lucky you found them when you did Knives. I can still run this IV to get the right fluids in check. After, you can take them back to your room, the IV has to stay in until it's empty though." He eyes the bleach blond from the corner of his eyes as he tapes the IV to your arm. "Again. You're lucky. They should recover soon. But they'll need plenty of rest."

Naï steps away from the wall he had leaned on, the blades slither out from behind his back and circle you carefully until they meld into his cloak once more. Content, he carefully picks you from the table with ease, using another metal appendage to grasp the IV bag.

"Thank you." Naï bows his head to Con'rad in thanks. Before he can reply Naï is gone again just as fast as he appeared.

Returning back to the privacy of his room, Naï gently sets you at the edge of the bed where he could rest the IV bag beside you. Leaving you swaddled in his cloak, Naï climbs up the bed behind you. For a moment he's hesitant to touch you, like it's the wrong thing to do but he pushes forward. Softly laying an arm over your waist, he pulls you flush against him, his face tucked into the back of your neck. He would lay here until you woke, until then, Naï would relish in the feeling of your body against his and find comfort in your presence by his side.

He might lecture you when you wake up, or inspect you thoroughly for any other sickness, but he also might enjoy your waking company for a moment before he does anything else.

#vash imagines #vash imagine #vash x you #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

[hawkinsmethlab]

Part Two

Read on AO3

The first time they kiss, Eddie is technically dead. Or, does CPR even count? Steve’s tempted to say no, because that’s not how kissing works. (He would know the best out of any of them, right?) The cracking of ribs under his hands and the taste of blood in his mouth, how desperately he’s blowing air into too-heavy lungs and listening to one of his best friends cry so hard he’s dry heaving.

But he doesn’t stop, not until there’s a pulse, however weak.

Eddie dies twice on the way to the hospital. They tell Steve later that he died again when he was on the operating table and nearly didn’t get him back.

Steve runs himself ragged over the next month, between volunteering at the community center, donating blood and making sandwiches, helping to clear the streets of debris, patrolling for Upside Down shenanigans and playing chauffeur for his gang of kids who aren’t acting so much like kids these days. He visits Max and Eddie as often as he can. Max still hasn’t woken up and nobody’s sure when that might be, but he gets to have his first conversation with Eddie about a month later.

He’s only been awake for a week, and still can’t do much of anything but talk, and even that’s hit or miss most days. Even when he can kind of hold a conversation, he gets tired too fast for it to mean much, but everyone Steve talks to is upbeat about his recovery.

He hadn’t been planning on actually sitting with him, there’s still so much to do, but Wayne had asked him to hang out while he ran to grab himself some lunch. Who is he to deny that man anything, especially something so easy as watching a half-comatose idiot?

Eddie wakes up after about a minute of Steve being there. When he notices him, Eddie’s eyes go glazed and he’s got a dopey smile.

“They’ve got you on the good stuff, huh?” Steve says.

Eddie nods, but his muscles are loose so it’s more of a roll. “Oh, yeah. I’d make a fortune off the stuff if I could get my hands on it. But, shh, don’t tell. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay, man, whatever you say. My lips are sealed or whatever.”

“Mmm.” Eddie squints at him then, frowns until he’s pouting. “Sorry you had to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lay one on me,” he says, eyes closed now. “Bet you hated it. Bet it tasted awful.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fights back the smile his lips are trying to pull up into. “Appreciate the concern. Lucky for you, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t tasted before. And I didn’t. Hate it.”

Eddie’s eyes open so fast Steve worries they’re gonna fly out of his skull. “You what?”

“I was saving your life, dude,” Steve says. Duh. “Hard to hate something like that. I mean, maybe if it hadn’t worked then it might be a different story but--”

“Oh. Right.” Eddie relaxes back into his pillow. He’s trying to keep his eyes open, on Steve, but it’s a fight he isn’t going to win. He’s like a kid trying to stay up past his bedtime, and this time Steve can’t force down the smile in time.

“Just go to sleep,” he tells him. “Your uncle will be back soon.”

“Been sleepin’ forever, I’m sick of it. Keep havin’ weird dreams.”

“...Yeah, I’ve been there.”

Silence settles between them, broken by beeps of machinery, distant footsteps and announcements from the hallway. Eddie’s eyes are closed again, his brow still creased. Steve thinks he might have actually fallen back asleep until he sees his lips move.

Steve scoots a little closer. “Are you trying to say something?”

Eddie sniffs, make the face like he’s pouting again. “I said, I’mma make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“Bad first kiss.” Eddie shakes his head. “I can do better. Wanna do-over.”

Steve freezes like a deer in headlights. Like he has a gun to his head. Like he just heard the front door open and he knows it’s his parents coming home. He knows it’s the drugs talking and that Eddie doesn’t know what he’s saying, not really. At the end of the day he probably isn’t going to remember this conversation.

Eddie is in a hospital bed, hooked up to about a dozen different machines looking like he’s been hit by a train, his skin so pale that Steve can make out every vein, every bruise and cut and stitch. Long fingernails and peeling scabs that crawl up his neck like a fungus. He’s drooling a bit from the side of his mouth and his eyes are still crusty with sleep and he’s got a smattering of acne that’s cropped up on his forehead and nose, along the edge of his chin. His bangs are pinned back because they’re so greasy.

Steve’s heart races anyway.

There’s a correct answer here, the one he’s been raised with, the one beaten into him. The instinctual urge to brush it off as a joke (ha, good one, man) to take it as an insult (remember who you’re talking to, Munson) to ignore it altogether (just go back to sleep).

Then there’s the incorrect answer.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, softly, terrified. “Once you’re all better, you can show me what I missed out on.”

Through the exhaustion and the pain meds, Eddie grins. “Watch out, Harrington. I’m about to rock your world.”

Steve smiles. He doesn’t fight it this time. “Can’t wait.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #my writing

[talaok]

An idea for pedro and reader

They are in a relationship and live together. The reader is also an actress. She asks pedro to practice her lines with her. In the play, she is having a really long line, breaking up with the person ans leaving them... pedro can't continue... at night in bed they are cuddling and pedro talks about how he hated the feeling or the thought of the reader ever leaving

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: ahh this is amazing how do you come up with stuff like this

"I know that face," he said, busting you immediately as you emerged from the bedroom.

He was sat on the couch, lazily half-reading something on his phone.

"what is it sweetheart?" he asked, as with a soft click, his phone went black

You bit back a smile "How do you know there is something?"

"Because you're very easy to read" he explained "Now tell me what you need"

"Excuse me? I'm not easy to read" you gasped

"No?" he asked rhetorically "Then what's up with the script in your hand?"

You glanced down at the papers between your fingers, feeling a soft veil of defeat land on top of you.

"Fine" you gave up, "Can you help with a scene?"

It wasn't unusual for you to run lines with each other, god only knows how many times he made you go through that scene from The Last of Us...

"of course" he nodded "What's it about?"

"Break up scene," you told him as you joined him on the sofa "I just feel like I'm missing something" 

"What?"

"well I don't know" you laughed "That's why you're here"

"All right," he said, as you handed him the script.

"You just have to read the ones not underlined" you pointed to the paper

"Can do" he smiled, watching as you stood from the couch and ran your hands soothingly down your jeans.

"ok" you breathed closing your eyes for a moment to get in character.

Pedro took it as his cue to start

"baby I love you" he murmured as written.

"And I-" you stopped, your forehead creasing as if your next words physically pained you "I... I don't know if I do anymore" you spoke "I don't think so"

"what are you saying?" Pedro read again, his tone more clipped now, but you were too focused on your performance to notice the way his eyes had changed, had... saddened.

"I'm saying I don't feel that spark anymore, that-that I miss walking faster when I come home because I know that's where you are, that I can't remember the last time my heart swelled like it did on our first date"

Three long beats passed, before Pedro realized that was his cue

Something was happening inside of him.

He knew this all was fake, but a part of him couldn't help but wander on its own... sure it's just a scene now, but it's so real, people fall out of love constantly, and you- well, Pedro realized for an interminable, terrifying moment, that you weren't immune to it, that what was happening to Jeff in this scene could very well happen to him any day now.

He had always known he didn't deserve you, that you were too much, too perfect, too good, too kind to be with him.

And for the first time in a while, a dreaded thought crossed his mind.

What happens when she realizes it?

"Rose" he called, pulling himself out of his own thoughts

"I know" you sniffled, your eyes filled with tears now "I'm sorry jeff-I really am- I don't know what happened, I don't know what's wrong with me, I just know... I just know I don't love you anymore... I can't bring myself to anymore"

And that was it.

Pedro had to glance out the window to take his mind off of whatever was happening.

"It's perfect" he said, after taking a lungful of air "There's nothing missing sweetheart, you nailed it"

"but" you stuttered "the scene is not done baby, there's still-"

"I know" he shook his head, closing the script.

He didn't want that thing in his hands anymore

"But trust me it's perfect, you don't need any more practice"

"a-are you sure?" you asked, wiping away a leftover tear  

"I am" he nodded "don't worry, you were incredible" he forced a smile "as always"

You grinned now "Oh well, if the Emmy nominee says so..." you considered, sitting back next to him "I guess I'm gonna have to believe you"

__ __ __

the rhythmic thumps of his heartbeat were the only sound you could hear from your place on the bed.

You were curled up against him, your head on his chest, and his fingers playing with your hair as his ability to emanate warmth better than any thermostat ever could, proved itself once again even on such a cold winter night.

"You've been quiet today" you finally spoke the thought that had been eating at you for hours.

He really had been.

When he didn't answer, you looked up at him, stopping drawing circles on his belly.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, wishing you could have had a clearer image of his face than the one the soft streetlamp from outside the window granted.

"No sweetheart, nothing's wrong," he said... but there was something in his tone that felt off.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"You know, I'm not the only one who's easy to read..." you murmured gently, as your right hand went to stroke his pecs soothingly "You can tell me whatever it is, you know?"

A beat passed, and then two, as silence spread around the darkness of the room

"I know baby, it's just" he sighed "it's stupid"

"I'm sure it's not" you reassured him "and it's not like I haven't told you my fair share of stupid things" 

He let out a weak chuckle.

"c'mon" you urged sweetly

He looked at you for a moment, before finally making up his mind.

"it's just- " he breathed "the scene you wanted my help with..."

"what about it?" you asked, after he didn't finish the sentence.

"I-It made me think"

Oh shit, your heart faltered, was he about to break up with you?

"That that could happen in real life too, you know?" he swallowed thickly "that one day you could stop loving me"

Oh

"oh"

"and the thought of you leaving... of- of not having you by my side anymore... it just- I wouldn't know how to do it"

"Baby" you whispered, "what are you talking about?" 

"you're too good for me y/n, and I guess I'm just scared that one day you'll realize it and just... leave"

"stop" You placed a hand on his lips to silence his nonsense "Baby, that was just a scene from a play"

"Yeah but stuff like that happens"

"well not to us" you promised "You're stuck with me forever, pretty boy, whether you want it or not"

"but-"

"no" you stopped him "no but. Pedro I love you" you breathed "I love you so much it actually hurts sometimes. So no, I'm not leaving"

You could now hear his heartbeat even if your ear wasn't placed above it anymore.

he looked at you, really looked at you, and slowly you watched the doubts melt from his irids.

"thank you" he said simply, leaning closer to you "and baby…I love you more"

#I'm on vacation so this and the last posts were queued btw #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #the mandalorian #javier peña #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #Pedro Pascal #fluff #daddy pascal #pedrohub #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito

[itsbeeble]

She's Kinda Hot

Summary: Sometimes Mingi hates you, but it's a bit of a perk that you're kinda hot

Genre: smut

Pairing: Song Mingi x afab!reader

Fic Warnings: Smut, porn with literally no plot

WC: 1917

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

SMUT WARNINGS BELLOW THE CUT

Warnings: pervy loser mingi, bratty reader, face/throat fucking, mingi gets a little bit too into it, forced cum swallowing oopsies, degradation kinda, kinda dom-sub themes, dubcon kinda?

Heavily based on She's Kinda Hot by 5SOS (im back on my 5sos shit what can i say)

A/N: isn't it so crazy how every time i wanna go on hiatus, somehow inspiration strikes. EVERY TIME. Anyway thank you all for being patient ilysm. Also this was meant to be longer but i cut it short so if you want a part 2 lmk

A/N pt 2: Thank you to @juyeonszn and @leejihoonownsmyheart for beta-ing this absolute monstrosity ily both

~

Mingi thinks that he hates you. 

Not, like, hates you, but sometimes he can’t stand your bitching. Sometimes he can’t stand the way you yell at him for talking too loud when he’s gaming and you’re trying to sleep, and then scream on the phone with your friends during your weekly video call (which you spend half the time complaining about him). He hates that you constantly scream at him about not cleaning up his messes, for leaving the toilet seat up, for not reminding you that you had a meeting, for reminding you that you had to get to a meeting.

What Mingi loves about you? Well…that’s a whole other story.

Mingi loves how, despite how irritating he may be, you always support him. He loves the way you play with his hair, watching over his shoulder while he games. The way you chime in with little comments, your grip on his dark locks tightening whenever he gets close to dying. 

He also loves how pink your cheeks get when you run out of air from yelling at him. He loves how your eyebrows crease, how your lower lip juts out when you pout. He loves how your voice pitches up into a whine that has him nearly drooling, with nasty thoughts entering his mind. He loves how easy it is to rile you up, how embarrassed you get when he cups that sweet cunt of yours while you’re trying to scold him. How you crumble over the lightest touch from him.

That, and you’re also kinda hot. He loves your tits, how they bounce with every step, and how you allow him to shove his face under your shirt and between them when the two of you go to sleep. He loves how meaty your thighs are, how he *drowns* in them every time he eats you out. Loves how your tummy is so soft, the perfect pillow for him. You’re perfect to Mingi.

Currently, however unfortunate it may be, he’s doing none of those things. He’s sitting in front of the TV in your shared apartment with his headset snug on his, in your opinion, disgustingly greasy head and a gaming controller dangling loosely in his hands while you yell at him. It’s hard, however, for him to focus with your tits bouncing every time you throw your hands dramatically into the air. It’s hard when every time you raise your voice, your lips twitching into that adorable little pout of yours, his dick twitches in his pants and he knows you can see it. Every time he blinks, it’s like you shift closer and closer to him until you’re standing right between his legs.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?” Your voice is shrill and Mingi just hums in response, eyes locked on the valley of your breasts as you lean toward him. 

“Absolutely, babe,” he sniffs and leans back on the couch, spreading his legs and placing his arms on the back of the couch. You scoff, leaning back and running a hand through your hair. Mingi’s tongue runs over his lip, his eyebrows knotting together. 

“You fucking liar,” you sneer. “All you’re fucking doing is staring at my tits, isn’t that right, babe?” 

Boom, caught red-handed

A smirk grows on Mingi’s lips. 

“So what if I was?” One of his legs hooks around the back of yours, yanking you down. A gasp leaves you, your hands flying out and finding purchase on his shoulders. He can see your skirt lift just enough for him to get a glimpse of your lacy panties, and, to Mingi’s pleasure, your tits end up right in his face. Soft, plump, and just waiting for him to get his mouth on them. His hands slide up your waist, itching to latch onto the soft mounds on your chest. You slap his hands away, and he hisses at the sting of your nails digging into his wrists.

“You’re a fuckin pervert, you know that?” Your fingertips dig into the fabric of his sweatshirt, and he scoffs and raises his head from staring down your shirt.

“Says the one grinding on my dick right now. Thought you were mad at me, princess.” He’s right, you know he is. You can’t help it, not when he feels so good against you. Not when you’ve been so stressed with work. Mingi leans toward you, stopping a mere inch from your lips. Your eyes are shut, and he almost groans when your hips stop moving as well. “Or did you just want some attention from me? Hm?” 

You whine, and Mingi coos. 

“Mingi,” your voice is airy and he hums, lowering his head back down to lick at the skin your shirt reveals to him. Your hands curl into the strands of hair at the base of his neck, scratching gently. “Mingi please.” His hands slide up again, tugging your shirt down as much as he can, exposing your chest to the warm air of the apartment. 

“Please what, princess?” Your breathing is shaky, your arm holding your boyfriend to your chest as he sucks dark marks into your skin. 

“Please fuck me.”

~

If anyone were to ask you how you ended up sitting on Mingi’s face with his tongue shoving its way inside of you, you would tell them you truly had no idea, but you weren’t going to complain. 

Your hips roll harshly over him, pathetic whines and moans escaping your lips every time your boyfriend sucks at your clit. He’s drowning in you, his nails (or the nubs that could have been nails since he bites them just to spite you) digging into the meat of your thighs and holding you as close to his lips as you can get. Mingi can feel the way your body shakes over him. Every swipe of his tongue through your folds, every time he sucks at your clit. You clench every time he touches you, your hands tightening around the dark strands of hair attached to his head. 

“Is this the best you can do?” Your breathing is heavy, causing you to stumble through the sentence while trying to appear unaffected. Mingi’s eyes flick open, peering at you through your thighs, catching your gaze and trying desperately to not look at the way your breasts seem to glow, how your whole body seems to glow at this moment. 

He pulls his tongue away from you, smirking when you catch yourself halfway through a whine. 

“You’re so much of a loser that you can’t even please your girlfriend?” You sneer, your lip curling and your eyes narrowing. Mingi scoffs, practically shoving you off of him, onto the other end of the couch. You yelp, and Mingi watches the way your body recoils from the landing. Watches your tits bounce, your thighs squeezing together from the pleasure ripped away from you. The way you look at him is pathetic. Big, bulging eyes and your jaw dropped open. 

“You think you’re so great?” He shoots right back at you, shoving his pants down his legs. “Hm?”

You can’t respond, not when he’s manhandling you into the position he wants you in seemingly uncaring that you hadn’t finished.

On the ground kneeling before him as if he’s your god, ready to take his leaking cock down your throat. 

You stare up at him with your unbuttoned blouse hanging off one shoulder. Your little cunt is practically weeping, your arousal dripping down your legs from being brought so close to the edge and having your orgasm ripped away from you because of your own brattiness. You sit there waiting for him to make a move but he just stares at you. There’s a curious look in his eyes and it makes you nervous. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You ask. 

“Jus’ thinkin’.” He shrugs and kneels down to your level. 

“About?” You like this moment. The calm before the storm. His hand comes to rest on your cheek, stroking it lovingly. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaning into him and sighing.

It’s another moment before he speaks again.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” His tone is harsh again, and suddenly your torso is being shoved toward the ground. You gag when his cock enters your mouth, choking when he shoves your head as far down as he can get it without hurting you. 

“Lucky that I love these tits,” with the hand that isn’t forcing you up and down on his cock, he reaches to grip one harshly in his large palm. 

“Lucky that this sweet little cunt of yours is always so tight for me.” This time, when he forces you back down on him, he holds you there and lets his hand leave a harsh slap against your sopping-wet heat. The force he puts behind it forces your body forward, and a loud groan leaves Mingi. “Shit, feels so good, baby.” 

Pathetic is how you feel. Mascara streams down your cheeks, leaving dark lines on your skin. Your face is becoming red from both the lack of air and the words he hisses into the warm air of your apartment. You can feel his tip punching the back of your throat every time you take him, your freshly done nails dig into his thighs and leave red marks that begin to bleed when you scrape them down his leg.

It isn’t exactly odd to see this side of your boyfriend. Every argument turns into some sort of sexual act. Forcing you to grind on his thigh for hours until you squirt all over him, bending you over his lap and spanking you until your skin is raw and it hurts to sit the next day, pinning you to your bed and ramming his cock into you from behind. 

Your vision blurs and you try to pull yourself off of him, gagging as you do so. You can feel him twitching in your mouth and can hear his groans become louder and higher in pitch. You can feel your mind growing fuzzy, willing yourself to hold on for just a little longer—

Mingi pushes you down on him one last time, holding you there while he empties into your throat and forcing you to swallow every last drop so you don’t choke. His cum is warm and bitter and you squeeze your eyes shut as it just keeps pumping out. His body shudders beneath you, his hand tightening in your hair as the last drops hit the back of your tongue. 

When he releases you, you don’t have the energy to pull away from him. You let your head rest on his thigh, his softening member resting just inches away from your swollen lips. Mingi leans his body back, one hand supporting him and the other gently brushing your hair out of your face. Your throat is sore, your breaths coming out raspy, and you feel Mingi’s hand trace its way down to brush against your carotid. 

“Can you turn over for me?” His voice is hushed now, but you can hear the amusement. You can feel it in the way his breathing picks up when you whine. “My poor princess, can’t handle her loser boyfriend’s cock? Can’t let him return the favor?” 

Your head tilts up at an awkward angle to look at him, and his heart stutters a little bit in his chest.

Yes, Mingi hates you a little bit. But fuck does it help that you’re kinda hot.

#itsbeeble #kpop #kpop imagines #reese’s pieces 🗞️ #reese's works 📩 #reese's moots 🩵 #kpop smut #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #song mingi #song mingi imagines #song mingi smut #ateez x reader #song mingi x reader #mingi #mingi imagines #mingi smut #mingi x reader #fawn~ 🧼 #brie~ 🫧

[milesandcorysupermacy]

All jokes, mami

42!Miles Morales x Hothead!Black!Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: First time writing but I think it's pretty good 🤷🏾‍♀️, use of n word, cursing, Miles crying, mentions of trust issues, that's it I think

Word Bank: Hija: daughter Bien: Good Muy Bien: Very Good. Ay Dios mio: oh my God Tia: Aunt

Summary: You're having a great time with Miles, Talking about drama and laughing your ass off! But, when you go in the bathroom you find some press on nails that DAMN sure aint yours, and are WAY too dramatic to be his mom's. What do you do?

You're sitting in Miles' room. 'Neon Guts' by Lil Uzi Vert and Pharell playing in the background. You guys are doing what yall usually do, gossip about things that go on at Visions.

"Nah, that nigga was trippin', ma. In what world is it EVER ok to crease another man's forces? I'm not the issue."

Miles said in his own blissfully ignorant (hilarious) way. Talking about yet, another incident he's had within the past two weeks with the same guy, Bryson. He hates this man with everything in him. You try to get them to stick together since they're 2 of the handful of students that are minorities. But, as I said earlier, he's ignorant.

"Bae, I get that, I do. The forces were clean. Fresh out the box." You say, trailing off. Playing with your faux locs, thinking of what to say next. Trying to tread carefully because you know Bryson is a sensitive topic. He's your ex, and yall are still cool. But, Miles just NEEDS to be throwing blows with him all the time.

"But that doesn't mean you punch him in the face! A simple 'Ay watch where you goin' bro' would've worked perfectly, but now he look like a busted, lightskin, balloon." You say doing a horrible impression of Miles and his suave brooklyn accent.

Miles chuckles at your description of Bryson, deciding to add onto it.

"Nah, he don't look like no balloon. His ass look like a clown. Matter a fact, a whole ass circus, and he the star. That nigga a bitch anyway. He really think he look like Drake?Nah, bro. Yo ass look like French Montana, stop playin'. Like, Drake? Nah nigga more like Brake, because he needa pump the brakes and slow down before Plankton come and steal the secret formula for that big ass forehead! Cartoon looking ass." Miles said breaking you two out into a fit of laughter. Silent laughter. The worst kind of laughter.

The laughter where you two are just rocking back and forth on his bed, slapping each other's arms and legs, wheezing slightly, and barely gasping for air. You two calm down and you think of a joke. You gasp from realization.

"Nah, because why do he for real laugh like Mr. Krabbs?" You say laughing again. Miles starts laughing too. Snorting this time, which only adds to the excitement.

"I love how funny I made you, Mami. I'm rubbing off on you, bien. Muy Bien." Miles says in a slightly creepy way.

"Damn, I can't even get credit for being funny, Morales?" You say pretending to be offended.

"No, it's better like this." He says before giving you a peck on the cheek and putting his hand around your waist.

After like 5 mins of talking about more drama at Visions (with no laughing fits). You and Miles settle down and start cuddling. With 'Good Days' By Sza in the background. You wrap your arms around his back, with your legs on the outside of his. Miles, just laying on his back and wrapping his arms around your waist. (I hope this makes sense 😭) Cuddling in a bear hug kind of position. You guys stayed like this for about an hour, and just as you're about to doze off, unlike Miles who fell asleep 20 minutes ago. You have to pee.

You slip your hands from around his back, and try to subtly move his hands from your waist, but he woke up. Damn, getting to the bathroom is not gonna be easy with his clingy ass.

"Where ya goin', mamas?" Miles mumbles half asleep, with a raspy voice. Your heart flutters from the nickname.

'How tf does he have this affect on me, and he's half asleep?' You thought.

"Baby, I gotta pee. I'll be right back, ok?" You say trying to dumb it down since only half of his brain works at the moment.

"No, you're gonna take too long. Just stay with me, we'll get you a pamper or sum." He says gripping your waist even tighter. You usually would've given up because of how sweet he was being, but you deadass were gonna pee on yourself.

"Miles." You say sternly. He lets your waist go with a dramatic sigh, and you walk into the bathroom.

You do your business, flush the toilet, and walk over to the sink, starting to wash your hands. But- oh, what's this?

You pick up a pack of orange, rhinestone, one inch, press on nails. You don't wear press on nails. Shit, Miles would know because he pays for you to get your nails done. You feel the anger boiling inside of you. Maybe they're his mom's? No, she hates orange. It reminds her of Halloween. "The devil's holiday". You remember that's what she calls it and you start to smirk. No! You're supposed to be mad right now. You finish wiping your hands on a paper towel and throw it away. Grabbing the nails and marching into Miles' room.

You see miles on his phone, he must've been waiting for you to come back. Or texting his other ho-

"Hey, Ma-"

"Whose nails are these?" You say throwing the box at his face.

He groans and inspects the box, tilting his head in confusion. "I dunno, these seem a little too... crazy to be yours, why?" He says completely oblivious.

"Nigga" You chuckle from anger, pacing around the room. "Stop playing dumb. Miles you're not stupid, you've never been stupid. So I know you understand what pisses me off, and one of those things is lying. Imma ask you one more time, Miles Gonzalo Morales. Who's fucking nails are these?" You spat gritting your teeth during the last sentence. Miles shot up out of the bed, knowing what you were getting at. Trying to convince you with all his heart he'd never do that. This poor boy has lost enough, and he's not about to lose you to a pair of ugly ass nails.

"Mami, I promise I don't know who's nails those are, It's wild that you're even accusing me of this right now. You came over every day this week!" Miles expresses, desperately trying to give you enough evidence.

"Yea, and I always come over after school, maybe your hoes have a scheduled time for after I leave. Who is this bitch? Hm, Miles? Is it that Mexican girl on the 2nd floor, she seems like she's our age." You scream at him, sure that Rio had woken up from her post-work nap.

"Mami, I don't love anyone but you, I promise, ok? Even if I did, with all the money I spend on yo shit. You really think I have enough to buy another girl some nails?" He shouts back. Pointing to the Gucci Mini-Purse he got you for Christmas, he had saved up all year to buy it ever since he saw you eyeing it at the mall. But he could have it back now and give it to his other hoe.

"You know what? You can have this back since my only purpose is being a charity case, fuck nigga." You say taking out your keys, phone, headphones, Lip Gloss, and card out of the purse, shoving it in your pockets. Throwing the purse at him.

"Mami, you serious right now? Sit yo hot-headed ass down and listen to me, you actin' crazy!" Miles grimaced realizing what he just said already knowing your reaction.

"CRAZY?!?!?! I WILL SHOW YO ASS CRA-"

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE? Dios mio¡ It sounds like the real housewives in here. Hija, what did he do this time?" Rio asked.

"Mama Rio, who's nails are these?" You ask her. (She gave you permission to call her that after the 6th dinner together, don't worry)

"¡Ay! I was looking for those, they're Miles' Tia's. She came over yesterday, and was showing me them. She took them from Miles' cousin because that little mama is only 12 and does not need those." She said grabbing the nails and walking out the room to call his Tia. Leaving you and Miles in the most awkward silence. You slowly turn around to see Miles standing there. You thought he would have some sassy remark but no. His lip was starting to quiver and you knew what was next. He starts letting tears fall which surprised you.

"Papa, why are you crying?" You say walking over to hug him. Feeling the worst guilt ever.

"I....I thought you we're gonna leave me, Mami. I would *hiccup* never do something like that to you. Honestly if the roles were reversed I'd forgive you. I don't think I can even see my life without you. I'm so sorry." He says.

"Miles..." You whisper.

"It's not your fault I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. You've done nothing to prove that you're untrustworthy. I have trust issues and that's something I need to work on. Not you. I'm so sorry, baby" You say sitting down on the bed for one of the most needed cuddle sessions yall have ever had. And after a few minutes of comfortable silence, Miles breaks the ice.

"What if I just made my mom cover for me, and I am cheating on you?" He asks with a shit eating grin.

"Miles..." You warn

"All jokes, mami"

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

FIRST FIC! what'd yall think? I'll accept constructive criticism. If you have a request or a way for me to make my writing better, just send a ask!

#across the spiderverse #42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x black reader #rio morales #uncle aaron #atsv imagines #miles morales fanfiction #sza sos #lil uzi vert

[kiiyunz]

posted⠀by⠀junjiie⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀8th April,⠀2O24.

No-one’s journey through idol life is going to be all sunshine & rainbows, and that’s a fact I think we should all make peace with as soon as possible. If you’re going to type out a comment screaming bloody murder about how your favourite’s whole career has been nothing but shiny and perfect, then all I have to say to you is that I’m sure there’s been a whole number of not-shiny and not-perfect things going on when the cameras are off. Sorry. It’s just the truth. Probably. But I’m not here to talk about your favourite, I’m here to talk about mine. So, without further ado, strap yourself in for a run-down of IM KIHYUN throughout the years of NCT DREAM’s career—ranked on a three point scale: the GOOD, the BAD, and of course, the REALLY, REALLY UGLY.

CHEWING GUM (2016)⠀⠀fruit punch & bubble mixture

15-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN had three lines in their debut single, a yellow hoverboard, and a dream—literally, considering the name of his unit. He was every bit the mood maker most people know him as today, filled to the brim with excitement and a sense of self-confidence that some people may have thought he would’ve lacked. While he hadn’t fully settled into himself just yet, still had voice cracks, and acne breakouts he’d stubbornly refuse to be filmed with while suffering through, and bouts of clumsiness that would leave him with bruises all over his elbows and plasters on his knees, for the most part it felt like he was an experienced performer rather than a just-arrived rookie. Most people immediately took a liking to him, and although his popularity wasn’t as sky-high as some of his fellow members, the fans he did have were a force to be reckoned with right from the start.

But whether you loved him or hated him, the one thing that everyone seemed to take notice of was the way he just looked like he loved performing on every single occasion, putting everything he had into every stage even with the little amount of time he was given to show off both himself & his budding talent to the people watching. His stage presence was compared to a breath of fresh air on a summer’s day, the wide grin he aimed at the cameras at any given opportunity one that aimed to brighten the mood of anyone witnessing it, and the enthusiasm with which he delivered his lines was something that even the harshest of critics could give a nod of acknowledgement to. Altogether, it’s widely agreed that CHEWING GUM for Kihyun was a GOOD era, on our three point scale.

(MY) FAVOURITE MOMENT: ⠀MU-BEYOND

Kihyun very obviously and very fiercely despising the way his hair was styled for one of the photoshoots, and making no attempt to hide it. As soon as the camera flashes stopped, gone was his sunshine smile, and in its place was a look that, if they could kill, would have put the photographer six feet under (even if the poor man would’ve had no say in how it was styled in the first place). While a few of the other members were enjoying themselves on the glossy pink bouncing balls they were perched on, as soon as it was announced they were done Kihyun was shooting up and making a runner for the bathroom, shooting the camera a glare and tugging on a few strands of his hair as he went. Chenle could be seen cracking up in the near background, creased over from the force of his laughter. Kihyun yelled something back at him, but whatever it was was drowned out by the editors with the persistent ‘Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum’ over the top of the footage, seemingly growing a little louder in order to hide his words.

THE FIRST (2017)⠀⠀bad hair & basketball

(STILL) 15-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN had blue frosted tips and a tendency to get distracted on the music video set, far more interested in shooting hoops than dancing around in the school-band like outfit they were being made to wear and singing about being in head-over-heels in love with his teacher. He was still every bit the bust of energy he was previously, still throwing his all into everything he did, but it was obvious to some he’d rather be doing other things if he could. The whole riding-cardboard-cars-around was something he loved, though, and he stated more than once that was his favourite part by a mile. Kihyun was mostly the same as he was during the CHEWING GUM era in terms of performance, confidence, and the like—although it was noted by most that there was a little less of his occasional clumsiness, more stability in himself than there was previously. His popularity grew alongside the group’s, his consistent charm and apparent natural talent to draw people in appealing to many a new fan.

He slowly began to make more of a presence online during the MY FIRST AND LAST era, also. Posting both little messages and various photos of himself & the members (mainly in embarrassing positions, such as being half-asleep or making weird faces) on Twitter, interacting with fans whenever he could, and dragging out conversations for as long as he was allowed at fansigns, until the poor person in front of him was practically dragged along to the next member. And when there were more sides of him being shown to the public (and the internet, especially), there were more people waiting to pick apart every piece of him. While his popularity grew, the amount of people against him shot up in numbers, too. It wasn’t overwhelmingly bad, but there were a fair few who accused him of trying to take the spotlight too often, or being ungrateful for the opportunities he was being given after they’d heard the few comments he’d made here and there about the comeback’s concept not being his favourite. Still, despite these lower moments, there were still more pros than cons, and so MY FIRST AND LAST is another era ranked GOOD for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MFAL FIRST WIN

He was so caught up in tugging at the various buttons and pins stuck onto his ugly blazer that he barely heard the MC announcing their win until all the other members were jumping around and crying and patting each other on the back. Kihyun himself didn’t cry until backstage, when it finally hit him properly that they’d actually won, so in the moment he was more so just a little confused and dazed than anything else as he celebrated with the rest, not-so-subtly trying to take the trophy out of Mark’s hands while he made his speech so he could get a better look at it, wrapping Jeno in a hug so tight it left them both wheezing, trying to jump on Jisung’s back in an attempt to get him to cheer up, and also making a whole host of excited gestures and faces over at the members of 127 across the stage.

WE YOUNG  (2017)⠀⠀fun  in  the  sun!

KIHYUN (NOW 16) loved every second of this era, and that was something you could make out from space. Even with his now-pink-streaked hair and sailor outfits they were being made to wear, he declared the music from the WE YOUNG era as his favourite thus far. It was just pure fun, simple as that. He enjoyed every performance they did, sang all his lines with a grin so wide it nearly split his lips, was as playful as ever with all the members, and simply let loose a little more, losing himself in the music rather than what people were saying about it. Despite him not overly loving the whole sailor concept, fans were of the opinion that he was one of the ones that pulled it off the best, and so he begrudgingly posted photos of him in the get-up as often as he could—to an overwhelmingly positive response every time. The public noticed that, while still not fully grown, Kihyun’s self-confidence seemed to be at an all-time-high. He really did look like he was just happy to be there, and his supporters couldn’t have been more glad about it.

What also made his fans happy was his amount of lines getting a boost. He’d consistently been receiving around three or four, five at a stretch, but now it was reaching into the sixes and sevens—which, really, was barely an upgrade, but it made a world of difference to fans of his. It gave him more of a chance to show off his vocal ability, and brought more attention to him from both the public & critics. It also just made him happy, to be able to spend more than ten minutes in the recording studio, to be given more of a chance to show off how he’d grown and improved so far (even if he still thought he had a ways to go before he reached the level of his role models, his own idols). WE YOUNG was yet another GOOD era for Kihyun by miles, with barely any pitfalls in sight, and probably his highest so far.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀COMEBACK SHOWCASE

He was jumping all over the stage throughout every performance, throwing everything he had (and probably more) into every line he sang and every move he executed. It was clear he was trying his hardest to contain himself, trying not to scream every one of his lines into the mic or trip himself up, but it was also clear he was struggling. He was also as clingy as anything towards the rest, always hanging off of someone’s back or linking their arms together while they were walking. There was never a shot of him without a smile on his face, never anything he did that made it feel like he’d rather be elsewhere. His enthusiasm and excitement was almost infectious, leaking out of the screen to put a smile on the face of whoever was watching along.

WE GO UP  (2018)⠀⠀breakdancing  &  beanies

NEARLY-ADULT (AKA.. 17-YEAR-OLD) KIHYUN seemed to be reaching for maturity a little too fast, fingers outstretched towards his eighteenth birthday and desperate for the months to pass by just a little faster. He had decided, somewhere along the line, that he was ready to be rid of the cuter concept the group was intended to present, and was more than ready for a switch-up. And while WE GO UP wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, there was certainly less of the more childish aspects that were seen in their previous releases—which was both an acknowledgement of all the members growing older and also something that served as a reminder of Mark’s upcoming graduation from the group, which Kihyun would’ve rather done anything but think about. Still, while he didn’t put as much of his all into it as he had done in the past, he still put a fair amount of effort into the lines he was given (which were lessened once again, to the disappointment of many) and choreography they were made to learn. Fans noted that his personal style was beginning to develop in the WE GO UP era, their suspicions of Kihyun dressing himself confirmed when he mentioned here and there that most of his non-schedule outfits were his own.

The introduction of Bubble helped to boost Kihyun’s online presence, something that had fluctuated from era-to-era thus far (his highest amount of interactions previously being within the MY FIRST AND LAST era), and while he didn’t use it all the time, he still made an effort to communicate regularly with those who’d signed up when he could. He shared his inner reasonings on his online presence with those who were asking—saying that if he didn’t like the concept of the comeback too much he would compensate by being online and able to interact more. It’s a rule he’s mostly stuck with over the years, and fans have now said it’s easy to tell when Kihyun hates a concept because they’ll wake up with three new Twitter posts and ten times as many Bubble updates. So on the whole, although it was definitely on the lower end of the spectrum, WE GO UP is considered yet another GOOD era for Kihyun—making that a four-long streak (that—apologies for spoilers—was going to be broken fairly soon).

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀FIRST SOLO LIVE

It was, to put it plainly, a little bit all over the place. He held it in his dorm room, half asleep but still managing to be every bit the charismatic personality most people knew and loved him for. He answered any questions threw at him with total honesty, didn’t hold his tongue when talking about various subjects that others may have (namely his personal thoughts & opinions on the comeback as whole—this live was where many found out he didn’t like it as much as they thought he did), and also showed a side to him that the majority hadn’t been able to see as much of before. He gave song recommendations, spoke about those who inspired him—both in a music and fashion sense—and altogether shared lots of fun facts that had been unknown to most previously.

WE BOOM  (2019)⠀⠀radio  silence

18-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN was noticeably.. Different. While Mark’s graduation had hit all of the remaining seven hard, the other six still at least pushed on and tried to act as if things were fine as normal, carrying on as most expected them to. Kihyun, however, had seemed to undergo a complete personality shift. He was withdrawn, quieter than he’d ever been—barely offering anything up in conversations or interviews even when prompted, barely any footage of him in behind-the-scenes content because he made next to no contributions to it; always preferring to stay in the background, on his phone with his headphones on and trying to ignore the cameras following them around. Public opinion of him was also beginning to slip further into the red, following leaked photos of him at an undisclosed individual’s party getting cosy with an unnamed and non-idol slightly older male just after the release of the mini-album—photos that went unaddressed by both the company and Kihyun himself. His name was starting to grow in infamy rather than popularity, but the boy himself didn’t really seem to care.

All traces of Kihyun on social media seemed to go completely cold, barely any updates from him that weren’t group photos or content. From the whole era there were a measly two Twitter posts from him, and his Bubble subscribers got refunded more often than not. But while he was refraining from making any posts, news websites and anonymous users were more than happy to leak more and more photos of him—always with the same boy, always at a party, or at a club, or just generally anywhere that looked a little shady to the hundreds of thousands that saw it. Rumours began to spread about a drinking problem, about a shady boyfriend, about countless things that painted Kihyun in a type of light that he’d previously avoided like the plague, but Kihyun himself made no attempt to defend himself, and so they only got wilder. It’s unanimously decided that the BOOM is the first (but certainly not the last) of Kihyun’s BAD eras.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀JENO LIVE

The then-blonde took it upon himself to disregard all the rumours spreading about his dongsaeng—although not in a direct way. He was careful with his words, as well-spoken as he always is, but made sure to especially shut down the accusations of Kihyun turning into some reckless party animal, taking the former leader’s graduation so bad he turned to less-than-ideal ways to cope. “Kyunnie isn’t like that, and never will be,” was what he told his audience, and many noted the flat look on his face. After the captain had, many of the others took their turn to come to Kihyun’s defence—mostly always with vague comments, but statements nonetheless. Chenle’s response in particular was deemed to be one of the most direct, replying to a comment while on live with a simple “You don’t know Kihyun like that” and then ending the live not long afterwards, leaving the conversation at that and somewhat encouraging the people speculating to do the same.

RELOAD  (2020)⠀⠀cliff  drops  &  harmful  habits

NOW 19, KIHYUN seemed to be at something of his lowest point thus far. While he made more public appearances, more attempts to join in with behind-the-scenes content (or just extra content in general), most concluded it was the result of management telling him he had to, rather that Kihyun himself choosing to do so—and his return only gave more opportunities for those looking to find all the things wrong with the once-charismatic & energy-filled vocalist. And to make matters worse for him, more information had been dug up on his newfound non-idol friends (or rather, the one boy in particular that everyone wanted to know about). Oh Jinwoo, he had been discovered to be called, something of an influencer-like figure known more often than not for his whole host of partners over the years and tendency to get mixed in with the wrong crowd. You could say that you could only imagine what this did to Kihyun’s public image (which was practically halfway ruined by that point already), but there was no need for imagination—practically everyone witnessed his fall from the (mostly Korean) public’s good books, yet nobody could do anything about it. It felt like every day there was another article released leaking more photos and spreading more rumours about whatever dark web Kihyun was tangling himself in, but still the company made no move to stop them. 

It was also during the RIDIN era that Kihyun was rumoured to have started up the habit of smoking, with (albeit blurry) photos released to support the claims. This did absolutely nothing to help his reputation, tanking it further. His future was starting to look a little uncertain, questions being raised over whether his actions as of lately would warrant either a hiatus or removal from the group completely. He might’ve delivered all his lines as fine as normal, danced along with the rest in the same practised & efficient manner he always did, but talent didn’t mean much when placed on a scale against damaging the whole group’s image, rather than just his own. When people began to turn their nasty comments and endless gossip onto the other members, Kihyun was starting to look like more of a hindrance than a crucial member. It is, without a doubt, agreed by all that RIDIN was a REALLY, REALLY UGLY era.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀KIHYUN LIVE

It was short, it was vague, and it was still very obvious he was nowhere near to feeling like his normal self, but Kihyun himself did come forward to address a few things—mainly the smoking incident, which he admitted to be true and said that while he was trying to put a stop to it completely, habits like that were hard to quit. After the negative comments began to override the positive & supportive ones, he was quick to shut it off again and return to what was becoming his frighteningly normal status of radio silent. Still, it was something—and far more than anything SM gave, at that. Other members were also quick to dismiss or shut down any comments they saw on their own lives discussing Kihyun and his future of the group, all that they said mostly being along the simple and short lines of “Kihyun’s staying with us” and not elaborating any further.

HOT SAUCE  (2021)⠀⠀a start

20 YEARS OF AGE. Mark was back, their permanence as a group was finally confirmed, the graduation system having been abolished, and all eight of them were together again. After five whole years of being active they were finally releasing a full album, and getting the chance to do it the way they all wanted. But while things were happier in that regard, Kihyun’s situation was far from forgotten. Fans of his were relieved nothing had been done about his place in the group—even if a few solo stans wanted him out just as much as those who hated him did, for the sake of his own wellbeing rather than them holding any ill-will towards the other members—but public opinion of him was still mostly in the red. Things were again starting to feel like they were hitting a dead-end: with Kihyun’s presence sort of.. Drifting. Sometimes he’d be absent for a group live, sometimes he’d go silent on all social media for weeks with his only comeback usually being his presence in the background of another member’s photos. Everything was looking just as uncertain as they had during the RIDIN era—until Kihyun once again started a solo live with the simple title of ‘an explanation’ and proceeded to do just that: explain.

Most suspected he didn’t divulge all the details, but the run-down was this: he’d met Jinwoo at some party or other, and they’d gotten just as close as all the leaked photos and gossipy articles made them out to be (although, again, some thought them to be far closer). He’d led Kihyun into a little bit of a rebellious era, what he called his ‘chance to be young and reckless’ since he’d mostly missed out on it, what with all his years of both diligent training & as an active idol. While he admitted on the broadcast that it was fun for a while, he was also realising the damage it was doing to both himself & his fellow members, so attempted to cut contact with his newfound friend—to no avail, for a few months, as they had more than a few periods of arguments both over the phone and in person. He said he’d only officially completely cut Jinwoo off a few weeks before the live, and shared with something of a wistful smile that he didn’t plan to get in touch with him any more now that he was gone. His viewers were overjoyed to hear this, and the members shared the sentiment—but Kihyun still had a ways to go before he was back to being a generally accepted fan-favourite. Despite him taking his first steps towards being back to his usual self, HOT SAUCE is still considered a BAD era for the vocalist.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MARK INSTAGRAM POST

It was a three-slide-long affair that was posted not too long after Kihyun’s live. The first was a selfie of himself & a sleeping Kihyun, one of the rapper’s arms gently holding the vocalist to his side while he grinned wide into the camera. The second, a solo shot of Kihyun’s face up close to the camera, tongue out and peace sign just barely visible in one of the corners, what with most of the frame being taken up by the odd expression he was pulling. The third slide was a short video, only ten seconds or so long, of Kihyun and him on the dorm’s sofa, the audio consisting the tail-end of Mark’s voice making a joke mostly unintelligible to the viewers that was quickly followed by Kihyun’s pure & unfiltered laughter as he cracked up at whatever the Dream leader had said. He was creased over, one hand repeatedly hitting Mark’s knee as the other held his stomach, breath coming out in jerky and uneven gasps as he tried to recover. The caption was made up of two words: ‘my KD.’ 

HELLO FUTURE  (2021)⠀⠀cotton  candy  &  back  to  normal

STILL 20, BUT NOW SEEMING MUCH HAPPIER, by the time HELLO FUTURE era rolled around Kihyun felt to most like he’d healed fully from what had then been a period a month shy of two years worth of the continuous cycle of being somewhat of a public enemy. People thought it was the combination of getting the truth about all that had happened off his chest, the continuous support of his members both in Dream and in NCT as a whole, and the seemingly infectious happy mood that came with the HELLO FUTURE era that managed to finally get Kihyun back on his feet, and with him he was bringing performances reminiscent of how full of joy and excited he’d been during the WE YOUNG era, smile wide on his face in every shot and dancing filled to the brim with passion. He even made more of an effort to make appearances on social media—contradictory to the rule he’d made during the WE GO UP era of only being constantly online during concepts he wasn’t too fond of. He gave happy little updates every once in a while, paired with smiling selcas both alone & with the other members, was as talkative as most remembered him to be before what some had started to dub ‘the dark ages’ during any group lives they held, and even crashed a few of the member’s solo lives every now and again.

His change was noticed easily, and was one that began to slowly turn the tides of public opinion on him once again. The comments made about him being someone who was bringing the group down and ruining their reputation with his recklessness were slowly lessening, being replaced with positive ones, and soon enough his popularity was starting to grow again, instead of the countless hate trains and calls for him to be kicked out. Kihyun was well on the way (if not mostly there already) to being completely fine again, even apparently feeling well enough to make more than a few jokes at his own expense here and there about staying far, far away from any parties held by a friend-of-a-friend in the future. HELLO FUTURE was the light (or rather.. Rainbow?) at the end of the tunnel for Kihyun, and so it was considered his first GOOD era after the nearly two years of BAD (with one REALLY, REALLY UGLY, at his lowest) ones.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MV REACTION

Kihyun was seated next to Chenle, which could only really mean trouble—as it always did whenever the pair were within two metres of one another. They were cracking jokes every two seconds, falling all over one another with laughter and unable to shut up for even a minute. The rest paused the video more times to tell them to keep it together than they did for them to comment on anything actually happening in the MV, but you could tell from a mile away that they didn’t really mind in the slightest, more happy to see Kihyun laughing and smiling again than anything. They also all made sure to cheer the loudest when the vocalist’s solo scene appeared on screen, and then proceeded to (lovingly) make fun of him when his ears uncharacteristically went bright red at the praise being showered upon him, although he tried to get over it quickly and return back to his self-confidence-filled self.

GLITCH MODE  (2022)⠀⠀video  games  &  b-boying-in-progress

NOW FULLY BACK ON TRACK (& FRESHLY 21), Kihyun was ready to throw his all into their second full album. He was as good as new, his overwhelming feeling of excitement for every track recorded and released as clear as day. He even (again) broke his no-contact rule a few times just to relay how much he thought fans were going to love the album, posting spoilers as often as possible and revealing as much as he could get away with before it dropped. When it was released, he was practically talking about it non stop, chattering away on all platforms about the styling, the stages, the music, how fun it was, how much he was enjoying himself—the list went on. He declared the GLITCH MODE era to be his favourite, point blank, no matter how much he liked anything they would go on to release in the future. Public opinion of him was mostly completely smoothed over by that point, and his personal fan base was growing with every passing piece of content that was released. He seemed at his complete happiest, throwing everything he had and more into every single thing he did during promotions & extra content.

The GLITCH MODE era was also when he opened his personal Instagram account, his first post being a picture of him and Jeno glued to each other’s sides in a setting people assumed to be the SM building, with the caption ‘my favourite colleague.’ His follower count rose quickly, and is currently sitting at a comfortable 4.8M, mostly in the middle of Jisung and Chenle’s own numbers. Since then his account has become a home to photos that at times feel more like an exhibition of all the other Dream members (and his closer friends from the other units also) than anything involving himself, nonsensical lives that usually occur at the early hours of the morning where Kihyun—either alone or together with whoever decides to either join the live or join Kihyun himself wherever he’s holding it—has free reign to chatter on about whatever he pleases, although most of the time when he’s alone it turns into an impromptu radio hour where he takes the chance to talk about his favourite recent albums & artists, as well as listening to any recommendations his viewers give him. Slowly beginning to recover his streak, GLITCH MODE is seen as another GOOD era for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MV BEHIND

Kihyun had decided that he was going to properly get into breakdancing during the GLITCH MODE era, and saw no better place than his solo interview moment in the behind-the-scenes video to show off the moves he’d begun to learn. At first he just spoke about how excited he was for the comeback, with Mark hanging off of his back and chiming in with comments of his own here and there, but after a couple minutes of that he was shrugging the leader off of him and telling the camera to “Watch this!” before launching into an impromptu downrock routine while Mark watched on in horror, looking a little like he was on the verge of a seizure even if Kihyun was perfectly fine. He also tried to do a headstand, and by that point Jeno had also wandered over to see what all the fuss was about, and viewers had the pleasure of watching both the leader and captain attempt to stop Kihyun from giving himself a concussion—the latter looking like he was about to burst into tears, and the former looking as if he was seconds away from collapsing.

BEATBOX (2022)⠀⠀boomboxes & makeshift english lessons

21, AND, IN HIS WORDS, “IN HIS PRIME,” the vocalist & dancer took to BEATBOX like a duck to water. While it wasn’t a huge favourite of his, he still liked it well enough and had enough fun on both the sets of the music video and all the photoshoots that accompanied the release to make up for it. The choreography was also a favourite for him in particular, and he practised it so much he could be seen absently dancing along to it whenever he stood still for too long in almost all of the extra content both before & after the release. It was practically ingrained in him, all of it coming to him like muscle memory. He swore up and down he could do the BEATBOX choreo tied up and blindfolded by the end of the era, although he was far from complaining, dragging every idol he vaguely knew (and even ones he hadn’t even introduced himself to) to do the challenge with him backstage at all the music shows they attended. Hardly anyone was safe from Kihyun’s pleading eyes and charming smile, and fans joked they’d seen more of Kihyun on TikTok doing dance challenges than they had seen him on any other platform from all of his past eras combined.

He was also noted for his sudden unexpected closeness with Jaemin in the BEATBOX era. While they were far from just acquaintances, and had expressed their shared love for one another multiple times in the past (even after their not-really-fight they’d shared in their trainee years, the story of which Kihyun had retold during a live with Jeno and could barely get though sentences of without laughing at how ridiculous it sounded all those years later), he just seemed a little closer, a little clingier in all of the behind-the-scenes content; hanging off of his arm or dragging im off somewhere to talk about something or other. When asked about it somewhere, he simply shrugged with a big grin on his face. “I just like Jaemin-hyung,” was all he said at the time, but later in an Instagram post of the two on the set of the music video he had written the caption ‘please give me lots of love—and lots of followers too!’ with a whole array of heart emojis to accompany it, to which Jaemin commented with a lot of laughter and promising he’d bring his dongsaeng all the Instagram fame he seemed to desire. Now most definitely building his streak back up, BEATBOX was a GOOD era for Kihyun all-around.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀UNBOXING BEATBOX ALBUM

Sat with Donghyuck, Renjun, and Mark, Kihyun was tearing off the cellophane packaging of the album before the rest could even greet the camera, practically desperate to look through the photobook and (most importantly, so he could add it to his ever-growing collection of all the photocards he owned of his fellow members) see who he’d pulled. He yelled out in delight and brandished his brand-new Jaemin PC at the camera, before almost immediately pulling out his phone and prying off the case to slip it into the back of it (covering up the GLITCH MODE era Mark he’d pulled the last time they’d done an unboxing, much to the leader’s dismay). After that was done with, he started spending an unnecessarily long amount of time pouring over each page of the photobook, trying to think of English adjectives to describe them with and then distracting Mark from his own unboxing in order to get him to whisper them in his ear when he couldn’t think of how to translate them. ‘Hot’ and Jaemin’s practically-trademarked ‘Sexy’ was what he ended up coming out with the most.

CANDY  (2022)⠀⠀earmuffs  &  christmas  karaoke

CHRISTMAS AT 21 was a very merry affair for Kihyun. He was as festive as could be, even wrangling Renjun and Jisung into buying a fake tree for their dorm that he decorated in a (very chaotic, and very loud) Christmas live a few days before the release of the EP. That seemed like the extent of his social media updates, though, only really appearing after that in group Twitter posts or lives (or occasionally the background of another member’s picture)—but this wasn’t all bad, seeing as it confirmed to most that he enjoyed the colourful and fun winter concept they were going with for the release. The only other real proper online presence he had was the random flurry of Bubble messages his subscribers would receive concerning his ranting and raving about his personal favourites from H.O.T.’s discography, seeing as he took it upon himself to listen to more of them because it was one of their songs they were remaking. Fans took delight in Kihyun’s wide smiles and overall joyful mannerism as he delivered lines about leaving his partner for another, saying his always-cheerful disposition made his performance of the title track all the more enjoyable.

In behind-the-scenes & extra content, Kihyun’s Christmas spirit felt infectious to viewers. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t belting out the lyrics to Christmas classics from all countries (even if he had to hold his phone up to Mark’s face on occasion and get him to help him with the pronunciation of some of the lyrics), or dancing around to something only he could hear in his head, or picking up some of the fake-snow they sprinkled around on a few of their sets and chucking it in Chenle’s face before sprinting in the other direction while the Chinese vocalist immediately gave chase, and the rest could only stand and watch it all play out. Now matching his previous four-long streak, CANDY is agreed to be yet another GOOD era for the vocalist.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀PACKING CANDY ALBUM

He was in Mark, Jisung, and Chenle’s group, and spent most of the time chucking baubles at Chenle, trying to balance the various items placed before them on the table on Jisung’s head & shoulders without him noticing, and steadily making his way through the whole rack of Chupa Chups sitting right beside him unattended rather than doing anything with the actual box in front of him. Mark took over the job for him in the end, leaving him to pretty much do whatever he pleased in the meantime (one of those things was repaying the favour Mark did him by tying him in bows with the ribbon that their boxes had come wrapped in, the leader making faces while he did so but doing absolutely nothing to stop him at the same time).

ISTJ (2023)⠀⠀mbti fraud & impulse decisions

22-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN was as energetic as ever, full of ideas and eager to get all of them heard. ISTJ was the album where he received the most writing credits, recorded as having helped with the lyrics for all tracks bar Like We Just Met and Blue Wave. Fans liked to see that he was showing a more creative side of himself this era, and that he was vocal about all the things he’d had input in or had helped shape into the final form, polishing it to perfection for their third full album. He was most noticeably supportive in their behind-the-scenes recording videos, where he got through all of his own sessions quickly & efficiently (but with no lack of passion and enthusiasm for the lines he was given—which most were happy to see were more than usual, similar to the WE YOUNG era in terms of numbers, even occasionally soaring a few higher) and then stayed in to listen to all of his other fellow members, cheering them on from behind the glass and dancing around as they recorded, greeting them with a wide hug and endless amounts of praise when they left the booth.

Another thing that was enjoyable for fans was his complete lack of awareness of what an MBTI actually was. He’d heard of them, of course, but he’d never gone as far as to take a test and find out for himself. So Kihyun, curious to see what the fuss was all about, turned on an Instagram live, propped his phone up against his desk, switched his laptop on, and took one there and then. He consulted with viewers about every single one of the questions, taking far too long to complete it than any normal person would-and, when he finally did, disagreeing with his result right up until he saw people that shared his MBTI. He shut up pretty quick when he scrolled down a little more and saw that he apparently had the same one as Adele, changing his tune almost instantly and saying his result was the best of them all. Officially bumping his longest-running streak up to five, ISTJ was most definitely a GOOD era for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MV BEHIND

He was clearly in his element, bouncing around from member to member to play with their hair or jump onto their back or whisper something in their ear before bursting out into a fit of snickers and running off again to see who else he could bother. He played photographer for most of their Instagram posts, taking the outtakes or moments where they had an eye closed or just clearly weren’t ready for his own feed, started a playfight with Jisung and nearly tripped himself up on a stray wire in the process, brought his own mini Bluetooth speaker to set one day so he could have a soundtrack while he caused his chaos, and attempted to show off more tricks he was learning, but was quickly stopped by Mark, who, as soon as he saw him getting in position for what looked like a cartwheel of some sort, was rushing over faster than light—his breakdancing routine from the GLITCH MODE era still very much as the forefront of his mind.

DREAM()SCAPE  (2024)⠀⠀mocktails  &  odd-looking  fruits

AGAIN FRESH OFF A BIRTHDAY (HIS 23RD THIS TIME), the vocalist felt just as excited for the release as he had for GLITCH MODE, even if it wasn’t a full album. It was calling back to their debut days, making a statement through all of the symbolism and hidden messages that was louder than any of them could convey with words, and was altogether a project that hoped to show to everyone how strong their bond actually was, to convince the few out there that were of the opposite opinion that they all loved one another throughout the thick and thin their eight years of being an active subunit, and weren’t likely to stop anytime soon. Kihyun was like Jisung in regards to all the fan-theories being made about the teasers, keeping his mouth mostly shut (although some thought that was just because he was barely on social media as it was), but did comment on some things in particular—namely Jeno’s back, the Jaemin trailer that had him locking eyes with the camera even in between a crowd, and the Chenle pill-biting scene. He kept quiet on his own, making brief comments about how cool he thought he looked on Bubble but not saying much otherwise.

The few things he did share about the comeback were mostly about the music. He had writing credits for the majority of the songs, but also had another piece of news that was exciting for him as a longtime personal goal he’d had for a good while—and that was that he’d assisted with the production on one of the tracks. Most that knew Kihyun knew that music production had been one of his interests since he knew what it was, and so naturally that meant they knew what some of his work in the production area actually getting used in an official release would mean to him. He couldn’t have been happier about it, and that happiness was a sentiment both the members and his closer friends outside of Dream shared with him, mentioning it in passing when talking about DREAM()SCAPE. Even if it only just ended, SMOOTHIE is considered yet another—making this his sixth in a row since ‘the dark ages’—GOOD era for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀DREAM()SCAPE COUPLE SONG MEETING

Amidst all the chaos, Kihyun was surprisingly quiet. He looked half-asleep for most of the meeting; Jamiroquai baseball cap backwards on his head, eyes drooping closed every now and again, and a thick sweater on that he kept pulling closer to himself as if he wanted it to suddenly transform into a blanket. The only thing he did the whole meeting was play Cooking Mama on his phone (we know this because he shared screenshots of his finished dishes on Bubble afterwards) and vouch for Carat Cake—yes, you heard that right, Carat Cake. The song that the rest of the members acted as if it didn’t exist. He didn’t really care if it wasn’t a couple song, and didn’t really care if it didn’t get picked, either—he just wanted it to be known that was where his vote lay. It was his favourite song on the EP, and hoped that somewhere out there there’d be people that liked it just as much as him. At some point in the middle he got bored with both his phone and the arguments still going on in front of him, so he nestled his head in his arms and attempted to have a nap. Which, predictably, didn’t work that well. By the end of it he was still dead tired, still the only one that liked Carat Cake, but also the only one who had three stars on his Cooking Mama carbonara, and so he considered himself the real winner of that meeting.

#⠀견니 ₊˚⠀⠀I’M MY ECSTASY⠀⠀——⠀⠀eras. #the ti pfp sneak top right IM JUST A MAN. #nct dream added member #nct oc addition #nct dream 8th member #nct addition #nct oc #kpop idol oc #kpop addition #kpop male oc #fictional idol community #temp cr. desi6ner

[annasinterests]

I See Fire

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: i'm dedicating this to my love @tinygarbage because the percy brainrot has been unreal for both of us. i thought this up after watching a tiktok (pls don't ask me i literally watched it once, swiped out of the app, then threw my phone across the room) and so this is what we got fellers. ALSO, one line is directly inspired by/from the D&D movie, so i give credit to my boy edgin because honestly the scene about him being so unapologetically honest about his mistakes was everything to me (i also guessed his dialogue word-for-word that entire time and was RIGHT). honestly thinking ab whether or not if i wanna make a part 2 to this..

divider by @saradika ! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 682 words (who knew i could actually write under 1k)

pairings: percy de rolo x reader

warnings & tags: angst, past trauma, arguing, cursing, miscommunication, unresolved ending

“No!-” You seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides, “Don’t you get it?”

Percy scoffed, “You ask that like I should know, and I don’t!” He raised a pointed finger to you, “How can I when all you ever do is leave us in the dark!”

Your jaw clenches as you turn away. White-hot anger blazed your body and blotted out everything else, even the tears that brimmed your eyes and streaked your cheeks.

“Always putting yourself at an arm’s distance, acting like you have the biggest burden to carry– well, guess what? We all have shit of our own!” His rigid tone made your face scrunch up. “You push away every single person that tries to get under the surface, including us! We’re supposed to be a team, damn it!”

You hated him. His pompous attitude and sense of entitlement, as if he’s somehow better than everyone else, or deserves explanations for things that don’t concern him. You hated his stupid glasses that made him look pretentious as hell, and that unnecessary trench coat he wore at all times. And the way he constantly whips out some sort of contraption that leaves the others in awe, stroking his ego, but you wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

But what you really hated, arguably most of all, was that he saw you. Right through all the acts and walls you put up to protect yourself– a promise that there’d be no more pain and tears for as long as you lived out your days.

A promise now shattered.

“Without trust, we are nothing.” The words are venomous, so full of exasperation that it strains his voice on the last word.

A sigh and some shuffling follows a moment or two after, and all you can think is how he’s undeniably soothing the crease between his brows while his other hand rests on his hip, a classic pose of his in high-stress situations. Not that you ever paid attention…

“Believe me, it’s not worth living life that way.” His voice was softer, almost apologetic, “It’s… lonely.”

Had you been completely blinded by your own emotions, you would’ve taken the opportunity to tell him to shove it and kick rocks, but you spared him.

“I, too, thought it was easier. I’d seen my loved ones hunted like game, my own sister betrayed our family name, Whitestone had been–”

“Whitestone still stands,” you snap harshly, abruptly cutting him off. “My home does not.”

It’s then you finally turn back to him with a chilling glare and darkened features. His expression drops to widened eyes and slightly raised brows, clear that he’d not been expecting that response. But now it started, and you couldn’t stop.

“My friends do not– my family does not.” The words are registering at higher decibels that burn your throat after each word, “My life– everything!”

You march up to him, squaring up before his infuriatingly tall frame, locking eyes with his. You were shouting in his face, reaching a point of zenith you didn’t know you had, your vocal cords raw and sore that you were sure they could snap at any moment.

“I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me and it was all my fault!”

Your body is trembling from the sheer force of the confession, and the air isn’t getting to your lungs the way you need it to right now. Your eyes, narrowed and fierce, fight to maintain their focus, but that buried, broken part of you is clawing its way out with a strength you can’t compete against.

His eyes flicker between yours, his face softened by a frown. You force yourself to look anywhere but his pitying gaze; you don’t need or want it, especially from him. You hastily wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, take a sharp breath in, and then exhale deeply. Out of all people, you couldn’t believe the one person to break you down would be none other than fucking Percival Fredrickstein von Mu—

“You don’t really believe that… do you?”

Yes, of course I do.

#percy de rolo x reader #percy de rolo x f!reader #percy de rolo #percival de rolo x reader #percival de rolo x f!reader #percival de rolo #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo III #vox machina #the legend of vox machina

[manwrre]

i have been dreaming of a top gun:maverick!inspired harringrove fic for the past few days. esp since their usual dynamic is a cocky, self assured blonde and a wildly stupid + talented brunette so puhlease. if that doesn’t scream harringrove, i dunno what will.

imagine billy, whose dad got kicked outta the military on a bad conduct charge but never tells a soul—too ashamed and too proud and too angry to bear the weight of his actions. so instead, when he gets home to his wife and kid, he makes their lives a living hell and runs their home like a base.

0600 - wake up “because i won’t have any slobs living under my roof,”

0605 - leave behind a bed of perfectly creased corners or “sleep on the floor, since you want to live like an animal,”

0615 - start the chores or “starve. there’s no such thing as eating for free,”

“don’t talk back,”

“don’t ask questions,”

“you’re not a baby, billy— stop crying over toys.”

“are you some kind of fucking fairy? sit up straight.”

“you better not embarrass me, boy.”

and it only gets worse when billy’s mom finally ups and leaves. no amount of “yes, sir”s can save him from his father’s wrath and soon enough, rewards and punishments become all too similar; the line between them, blurry at best. neil’s love feels exactly the same as his hate and both leave heavy stamps of purple and blackish-blue near billy’s heart.

so by the time that billy’s eighteen and old enough to leave, he’s more decorated than most. has given up more than most. has endured a battle longer than that of most neighboring countries.

and he doesn’t really have a choice (if he wants to leave neil’s house) but to join the air force and so, that’s what he does. and billy’s done a lot to survive but flying? the thought of it makes him feel alive. and the notion is only cemented after he watches a p-51 mustang take off for the first time and his heart feels it’s been through 10gs of force.

so he becomes the goddamn best in his batch. he gets his degree in mechanical engineering. he gets to flight school and he’s glittering. he’s whip smart and confident and has the instincts to back it up. he’s tall and sun-kissed, blue-eyed and blonde-haired. and that alone has everyone on the squad calling him “johnny— like bravo, not the jackass.” paired with his sweet, little texan drawl, he’s charismatic and a total wildcard. he bitches and preens and leads but billy,

billy gets the job done. every single time.

doesn’t care who it pisses of. doesn’t care about kissing ass. and yet still, when there’s a particularly tough mission, the admiral knows that johnny boy is up for it.

regardless, he racks up a long list of avid followers and enemies.

so when he gets to hard deck a day before top gun training is meant to start, he’s not surprised to meet the latter of whom in the form of steve “beemer” harrington.

steve, who looks the same as he did in flight school all those years ago— golden and freckled just about everywhere. he fills out his shirt just right and if billy were closer, the coupla inches steve has on him would be more obvious.

“beemer, as i live and breathe.”

billy’s pleased to see steve’s eyes widen at the sight of him. smirks when he realizes he’s on the receiving end of the brunette’s sweeping gaze.

“johnny,” steve says, around the rim of his beer bottle. “you look…good.”

and oh, does that light him up.

billy’s careful though, to not let his face betray a single thing. instead, he grins a little wider. a little deeper; a little meaner.

“well, i am good, beemer.” he shrugs and plucks the pool cue out of carver’s grip.

he ignores the blonde’s huffing beside him and instead, leans forward to line the tip of it up behind the ball.

he knows the motion accentuates the long lines of his body. he knows that gravity favors him and the undone buttons on his shirt; gives a generous view of his naked chest.

“i’m very good.”

steve’s eyes flit between his and then, somewhere lower.

and billy snorts, lining up his aim; coiled tightly and precise. holds it for all of a second before the string snaps and he’s breaking the rack with a resounding, wooden clackclackclack.

“in fact, i’m too good to be true.”

and thereby starts their enemies to lovers trope! i’m talking heated looks in the locker room, post training tension, make out sessions in the otherwise empty gym. hanging out at each other’s on base accommodations and billy calling steve ‘bee.’ imagine them exchanging dog tags?? and steve getting all possessive when billy’s got his flight suit unzipped halfway and tied around his little waist. they’d be instructors together and show off in the air, driving everyone crazy. the perfect leader and wingman.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #steve stranger things #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #steve harrington blurb #billy hargrove blurb #billy has a southern accent #boys in love #top gun maverick #tgm au #hangster #i want them flying okay!! #it’s perfect #hear me out #manwrre #writing wip #wip #au #rambling #i want as many places for my billy rambles as possible

[psychedelic-ink]

Petals ║ Javi G.

pairing: javi gutierrez x fem!reader

genre: smut, pwp, minors dni

word count: 773

summary: The first time was an accident. Javi sees you getting out of the shower and can't help himself. It's not his fault you never heard of closing the curtains before. After that he should've stopped. You're the daughter of his favorite house keeper after all. But he can't help the way your body calls out to him again and again.

warnings: javi secretly peeping into your room through the window, male masturbation, female masturbation, voyeurism, age gap (it isn't mentioned but it's there)

a/n: special thanks to my soul sister @inklore who gave me the idea after telling her that I wanted to write more stuff with pervert javi g. but had no idea what to make him do. I love your beautiful brain and heart and thank you for listening to me ramble about pedro pascal non stop ilysm

also if anyone else has any pervert javi g. ideas feel free to slide in to my askbox

The first time was an accident.

Javi had no idea his bedroom window had a clear view into yours but there you were, wrapped in a towel, dripping all over the floor, and attempting to pat the remnants of water from your hair with another. He swallows, the air around him suddenly stifling. 

The first time he couldn't help but stare. 

It is an accident, he keeps on telling himself. It’s not his fault that when you evidently drop the towel that his cock is already hard as a rock. It’s not his fault that he wraps his thick fingers around his length, stroking himself as he watches you apply moisturizer to your arms and legs.

And it definitely isn’t his fault that he cums heavily into his fist, his cock still twitching with interest, as if he hadn’t just rubbed himself dry a second ago. 

The second time was less of an accident and more of him taking matters into his own hands in hopes of seeing you again. Before he knows it, he’s sitting on his bed, body facing your window, desperately waiting for you to come out. 

You didn’t appear the second time and he hates the way disappointment riles him up, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he takes himself into his hand once more, looking into your bedroom and remembering the ghost of your naked body. Javi strokes himself without pleasure, he’s angry at himself for peeping, for being so desperate to see you, it’s wrong, he shouldn’t be spying on you. You trust him. Your mother trusts him. You’re the daughter of a valuable employee, an employee he knew for years. The thought only makes his stomach churn.  

When Javi cums, he feels no relief. 

His guilt riddled heart forces him to stay in one of the many guest rooms. Javi avoids you and your mother like the plague, he’s certain that you already know and hate him for it. He just knows. 

The whispers of his room follows him around the mansion. Wherever he goes, he can hear it beckoning him, poisoning his mind to come back and take one last peek. If you weren’t there that would be it. He would never look through those windows ever again. 

It’s late at night and he finds himself staring into your bedroom the third time. 

Again, you don’t come out of the shower. In fact, it seems like you’ve already taken it. You’re sprawled on top of the bed, towel between you and the bedding as you spread your legs, fingers rubbing fast circles around your clit. 

Javi feels darkness looming over him as he shoves his pants down, fisting himself at the sight of you. His cock is already dripping, fingers sliding up and down his shaft with ease as a string of moans part from his lips. He can only see your pretty little pussy and fingers, you push two of them in, palm snug against your clit. Unaware, Javi thrusts into his hand, groaning. He wonders how your face looks during times like these. Would your lips be parted? Are your eyes squeezed shut with ecstasy? 

And most of all, he wonders what you’re thinking about. Do you ever think of him just like he’s thinking about you? 

Of course not. You might care about him, but not in the same way he cares about you–

Your back arches off of the bed and the most animalistic groan rattles in his chest. His movements become fast and sloppy, wet noises fill the bedroom, echoing his sin back to him but it only makes his body burn with desire. Javi imagines how your cunt might feel wrapped around his cock, how well he would stretch you. He wouldn’t be above teasing you, making you beg for him, but knowing himself fairly well, he knows he would take pity on you and shove his cock deep inside your wanting cunt. 

You cum before he does. Javi’s eyes darken at the way your body jerks, toes curling when your fingers continue to draw harsh circles around your clit. Then you relax, reach out to your phone and scroll aimlessly as you lay completely naked on the bed. 

Javi groans, didn’t you know that anyone could see you like this? Didn't you know that your curtains are wide open? Fuck– 

White flashes before his eyes, forehead beading with sweat while his orgasm electrifies his every nerve. He curls into himself, teeth grinding together as cum dribbles down his cock. Everything feels incredibly wet and sticky. Chest heaving, Javi stares at the ceiling, his own pants filling the dark space. 

This time he feels no guilt, only the buzz of his pleasure. 

The next day Javi moves back into his room. 

#javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi g fanfiction #javi gutierrez x fem!reader #javi gutierrez x f!reader #tuwomt x fem!reader #tuwomt x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[muertawrites]

I read somewhere that Joseph said Eddie had a crush on Chrissy (dont quote me on this, I just skimmed past it in tumblr lol) but would you ever write something based off of that where the reader is not really jealous but more insecure about their relationship after finding that out?

yes. all the fics about cheerleader!reader make me dysphoric af so i'm here for this request.

plus (and no hate to joey babe, he knows our boy better than anyone) but i really can't see eddie being attracted to someone like chrissy. kind to her the way he was, yes, but genuinely into her? no. she comes from the crowd that causes him so much torment that she would be a massive turnoff for him. she’s also just too... vanilla for eddie. eddie’s a weirdo. he likes other weirdos. 

also, @eddieonfilm​ started posting songs of the day which i love and since i get songs stuck in my head a lot while i’m working on things, i decided i would do the same except with my fics. the only thing i love more than writing fanfiction is forcing my music taste on others. today’s song: 

i apologize in advance for how much i projected in this one. reader is implied to be heavier set and alt.

The air in the boat house is cold, and it has nothing to do with the spring evening setting in. You're relieved that you found Eddie, that he's with you again, unharmed and relatively safe, but that doesn't stop you from wondering. Worrying. Your insecurities and lack of trust take over, and your chest is tight.

He was alone with Chrissy Cunningham in his trailer.

The girl everyone teased him for having a perverted crush on - even the Hellfire Club.

The poor thing is dead. You shouldn't feel this way. But you do. The guilt compounds with your anxiety, crushing you under its immense weight.

“If you keep chewing your lip like that, you’ll gnaw it off.” 

Eddie’s words are mirthful, but he delivers them in deadpan. When you look up at him, his eyes are hollow, empty of the glint of mischief you’ve fallen so hard for. 

You’re sitting on the floor - his back against the wall under the far window, yours against the back of the suspended boat in the middle of the little shack. Your legs are intertwined; he’s close enough to touch, and he does, reaching his hand out for you to take. You accept it, allowing yourself to find comfort in his warmth and weight pressing into your palm. 

“... Why were you with her?” 

Eddie blinks, incredulous, clearly not expecting that to be the question that falls from your lips. 

“I told you,” he replies; slowly, as if you don’t understand him. “It was a deal. Chrissy was freaked out and needed something for the edge.” 

“But she was in your house,” you whisper. “You... you were alone with her.” 

“You can’t be fucking serious right now,” he quips. “Do you actually think I fucking killed her? After all the shit you’ve seen in this ass backwards town?” 

He rips his hand away from yours, the action shredding through you like a rain of bullets. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. 

“No, Eddie,” you assure him. “That’s not... That’s not what’s bothering me.” 

He stares at you, trying to read the creases that frame your downturned lips. He’s so fluent that it takes him a matter of moments to decipher them. When you see the look of recognition that falls across his features, you turn away, ashamed. 

“... You don’t like that I was... alone with her,” he concludes.

“Just drop it,” you sniffle. Tears burn your eyes, and you raise an arm up over your face in an attempt to hide them. “Forget I said anything.” 

“No.” 

Eddie lifts a hand up, waving it in a dismissive motion.

“We need to talk about this. Are... are you... You can’t be jealous. I’ve said two words to Chrissy in my whole life. You know you’re like... the only woman I really talk to.” 

You laugh, the sound void of all happiness; it rings broken, helpless, the bleakness of it completely crushing Eddie.

You’ve known each other a total of six months, but you act as if you’ve been together since birth. Your souls match one another in a way that thrills and terrifies you, and makes it that much harder to picture him alone with someone as pretty and petite as Chrissy. 

Someone so unlike you. 

“Why are you defending yourself?” you ask. “You’re not my boyfriend. You can’t cheat on me.” 

“Because something about Chrissy and I together bothers you,” Eddie spits back, reacting to the bitterness in your tone. “And I don’t want you hating me for it. I’m not your fucking enemy.” 

You hate it when he reminds you of that. It proves that he can see right through you, that your anger and defensiveness is a ploy to protect yourself by deflecting the pain.

Like looking in a fucking mirror, isn’t it Munson?

“I’m not... jealous,” you admit after what has to be the longest moment of your life. “I’m just...” 

Your chest heaves as a sob escapes you. 

“She’s just so pretty,” you whimper. “And so nice, and I’m... I’m so fucking forgettable. I’m a troll and she’s a fucking fairy.” 

“Hey...” 

Eddie’s voice is soft as he slides over to sit beside you, his arm curling around your shoulders and hugging you close. Your face falls into his chest, his smell of cigarettes and weed and dollar store soap more familiar to you than the smell of your own home. 

“Chrissy is... was...” he swallows the word like it’s glass, “... very nice. And yeah, she was pretty. But nice and pretty are boring as shit. Fuck, she was scared of me when she met me in the woods yesterday, because she was fucking the guy who has all of Hawkins convinced I’m possessed by the devil because I run the nerdiest club ever. You’re way cooler than that. Than any of those fucking posers who are too scared to be themselves.” 

His hand falls onto the back of your head, making a trail of tender strokes through your hair. 

“We’re probably gonna die so I’m just gonna find my balls and admit this,” he sighs. “I’m fucking in love with you. Head over heels in love with you. I’ve had a massive crush on you since middle school when you used to argue with our teachers.” He chuckles fondly at the memory. "And in junior year, when you dyed your hair orange because Jason Carver called you a soulless bitch in front of the whole cafeteria? God, and the way you always wear those really frilly dresses with the combat boots... I’ve been pining after you for fucking ever. I’ve written songs about you. When you started talking to me I wondered why the hell I never tried to get close to you sooner. I would’ve been way less miserable if I actually got to know you when I wanted to.” 

You sniff, leaning heavily against him as you let his words sink in. You never knew he noticed you growing up the way you always noticed him. The revelation is comforting; sobering. 

“... Well. I don’t think we’re gonna die,” you finally murmur. “But we’ll definitely experience a new level of trauma after this.” 

Eddie laughs. He presses a kiss to the crown of your skull, his hand finding yours once again and lacing his ringed fingers between your bare ones, admiring the way they fit together. 

“I’ve been meaning to level up my trauma,” he muses. “... But you’re right. We’re not gonna die. We can’t die - we’ve gotta grow old and senile together.” 

You smile, absently bringing his knuckles to your lips. The feeling raises goosebumps up his arm. 

“... Eddie?” you whisper. 

“Yeah, sweetest.” 

“I love you, too.” 

🌹💀get your eddie fix💀🌹

#eddie asks #muerta's works #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson drable #eddie munson blurb

[sebastiansluts]

non con with mean steve kemp x naive younger babysitter reader and maybe some forced babying and dumbification? steve making her sit on his lap and suck his fingers and clean his dick with her mouth and rough sex w forced breeding/pregnancy kink and humiliation please

Steve Kemp x Reader; non!con, age gap NOT underage (reader is early 20s, Steve is 40s), dumbification/babying, rough sex, breeding kink, humiliation

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

"Mr. Kemp, I'm gonna head out now," you said, double checking that your house and car keys were in your purse.

"Honey, come here for a minute, won't you?" Steve asked, sitting in the big armchair, legs spread wide, pants bulging. You went over to him, standing between his legs, looking down at him as he stared up at you.

"Aren't you gonna sit down?" Steve asked, laughing when you looked around you. "Silly little girl, right here, on my lap," he said, patting his legs.

You blushed lightly, but shrugged, sitting sideways on his lap, squirming because you couldn't get comfortable.

Steve hissed when your legs brushed his dick as you situated yourself, finally sitting straddling him, knees pressing into the chair on either side of him. Your ass was on his knees, but Steve pulled you forwards until your crotches were flush.

"Mr. Kemp, I've really gotta go," you said, glancing over your shoulder at the door. Steve grasped your chin in his hand and forced you to look back at him.

"You can leave when I say you can leave little girl," he said darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes were wide as you tried to nod, chin still in his grasp. He released you and continued. "I had such a long day honey, you wanna help make it better? Make me feel a little better before you go baby?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to sort your thoughts. "Um, yeah sure Mr. Kemp, I can do that."

"That's a good girl. Open my pants, they're a little tight right now," Steve ordered.

You frowned, brows creasing. "Mr. Kemp, I don't think I should be doing that."

Steve moved so fast you missed it and suddenly his hand was on your throat, choking you. "Stupid girl, you don't think, full stop. You do what I say and nothing more. I don't want a single thought in that head other than 'yes Mr. Kemp', do you understand me?"

"Yes Mr. Kemp," you gasped with what little air you had. He released you and you slumped, panting, head spinning.

"Now, let's try this again. Open my pants," Steve said.

You lifted shaking hands to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his pants. "Take me out honey, nice and gentle, there you go, see it's not that scary, why don't you go ahead and slide those panties down baby," Steve murmured, grabbing them in his hands and ripping them apart, stuffing the shredded material in the cushion. You stared at him in shock, his hands sliding up your bare legs under your skirt.

Steve's fingers brushed against your folds, sinking two into you immediately, cursing at your wetness. "Fuck, already wet and ready for me, aren't you baby? So pathetic, bet you've been waiting for this, wanting me to take you huh?"

"Yes Mr. Kemp," you answered breathlessly, his fingers curled against a spot inside you that made you rock forwards against him.

Steve yanked his fingers from you, grabbing your hips and lifting you. His dick pressed against your entrance until you started sinking down, inch after inch forcing its way inside you. He finally bottomed out, your ass flush with his thighs, feeling like you were being split open.

"Mr. Kemp, please," you whispered, hands on Steve's shoulders, tears in your eyes as he started moving.

"Yeah, you fucking love this baby, I know you do. Full of my cock, gonna fuck you till you're full of my cum. Gonna breed you little girl, fuck you til you're pregnant. Pregnant with my seed, my children." Steve was lifting and dropping you on his dick, his hips thrusting in between.

"Mr. Kemp, I can't, can't take it," you moaned, feeling pressure building up inside you.

Steve shoved his fingers in your mouth. "I don't wanna hear that kinda talk baby. In fact, I don't wanna hear any talk anymore. Just be my dumb little baby, suck on my fingers honey."

You did as he said, tears falling from your eyes as you suckled. Steve groaned, fucking up into you harder, slapping your cheek lightly a few times when you stopped sucking.

"You ready little baby? Ready to be filled? Fuck you're gonna look so good pregnant, all round and swollen with my babies. Gonna fuck you even more then," he groaned, coming hard and flooding your insides, fingers slipping from your mouth and falling to your hip, squeezing hard.

Steve sat back, catching his breath. "Alright baby, clean me off now. Properly, with your mouth," he smirked.

You flushed, getting off his lap and to your knees on the floor between his spread legs. His cock was softening, hanging between his legs on top of his balls, still out of his pants and briefs.

You leaned forwards, licking hesitantly. "Put it in your mouth idiot, like the baby you are with her pacifier or we'll be here all night," Steve rolled his eyes.

You squirmed, but pulled his cock into your mouth, sucking away the mixture of yours and his fluids, licking until there was nothing left.

#steve kemp #steve kemp smut #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x y/n #steve kemp x reader #smut #no y/n

[wordsonamission]

47 for icemav?

Thanks so much for sending a number! I hope you like this one, it was tough to write. I haven't done sad in a while . . .

#47: I would give up anything to see you again

Maverick cleared his throat roughly. “So, the mission was a success. Site destroyed, everyone back on the ship, three enemy fifth gen fighters shot down.” He dropped his gaze, rocking back and forth on his heels. “There were some . . . complications. Bradley ran out of flares on the way back. I covered him with the cobra maneuver. I know, I know,” a small and rueful smile split his face, “that’s too dangerous. And it was. I took out the missile locked on him but another one got me.”

The silence following his words was deafening. “I had to. You know I had to. Bradley needed me and I –” Maverick’s voice broke. “There was no way he was going down when I was still in the air. He was my wingman. And I don’t leave my wingman behind.” Maverick scrubbed a tear off of his cheek, a muscle clenching in his jaw.

“Landing was hell. Hit my head funny and blacked out for a minute. I got lucky and landed near the enemy base. There was a helicopter out to find my landing site. That would have been the end of me,” Maverick chuckled darkly, “but Bradley wouldn’t go back to the carrier. He defied direct orders from command and circled back. Shot the helicopter clean out of the sky. His first air combat kill.”

Maverick glanced up at the sky. His stomach twisted as he registered the familiar blue/grey color. “He was shot down right after that. So that’s two F-18s lost, the other two with frames bent all to hell from the climb out. Do you think Cyclone will deduct that from my paycheck?” He tried to laugh but didn’t quite manage. “I saw his chute, so I ran to him. Bradley was fine, just a little banged up, nothing major. We infiltrated the base and they had a Tomcat gassed up and ready to go. Just like old times.” The ancient creases around his eyes deepened as a genuine smile bloomed.

“Somehow we got it in the air. Everything in the back was gone, so we were flying blind, and I took out the landing gear on takeoff from the taxiway because the runway was bombed. There was a roving patrol we had to deal with, too.” This time Maverick’s laugh succeeded and warmth lit up his face. “God, it felt good. Nothing I’ve ever flown has ever felt like a Tomcat in a dogfight.”

 Maverick was lost in thought for a long minute. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes, steeling himself, as deep grief settled on his face. “I finally talked to Bradley. About the Academy, and Carole, and everything else. He was angry, of course, but not in the same way as before. I think we’re finally getting somewhere. Maybe . . . maybe this is the start of something new. He’s grown so much since then, and I wish I – but maybe there’s a place for me in his life going forward now. And that’ll be enough.”

He wiped his face again, needing several deep breaths before he could talk again. “I didn’t think I was coming back. As soon as Cyclone made me team leader, I knew that was my fate. On the carrier, going through pre-flight, choosing the team, I knew it was the end. It was finally my time. But now,” Maverick blinked fast to clear his eyes, “now I’m not so sure. Somehow, I’m still here. I would give up anything to see you again, but you were right. I hate how you’re always right.”

A sob burst out of Maverick’s mouth. He bit at his fist to fight back the sound, but his shoulders shook with the force of his tears. “You should be here. Why was I the one to come back, why am I still alive?” There was no answer in the light breeze that stirred his hair, as soft as a lover’s touch.

“I gotta go. Bradley’s having me over tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do.” With trembling hands, Maverick leaned down and touched the smooth white stone. He laid a challenge coin on top. “Bates gave me this. He figured you already had several of these old Tomcat coins, but what’s one more for the collection?” Maverick snorted wetly and then sighed. “I love you, Ice. And I’ll be seeing you, though I guess not as soon as I thought.”

#wordsonamission writes #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #pete maverick mitchell

[cosmos-coma]

Blood and Vengeance- Part 9

A/N: hello! This chapter has been a long time coming! The wifi here at my remote job in the middle of the forest is pretty bad right now and is only gonna get worse as we get triple the amount of people next month, but I’m gonna keep writing and finding time to post when I can! Thank you all for supporting me with your lovely comments!

Pairing: Dettlaff x Reader

Words: 1621

Warnings: graphic depictions of pain

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Final)

____________________

Regis paced nervously before the closed doorway, an unusual anxiety creasing fine lines into his forehead. 

He had always been the cautiously calm one, the voice of reason, but his composure was being tested. What if the ritual didn’t go as planned? Or what if it did, but you came back… different? Worried thoughts fluttered their wings around his brain, distracting him as the doorway creaked open.

“Regis, you’re going to scare her…” the smooth voice came as the door to your room clicked shut behind it. Dettlaff leaned back against the door with a gentle sigh as he watched his friend.

“How are you so calm about this?” Regis asked as he turned to his dear friend, “I don’t mean to sound boorish, but… between us, I never expected you of all people to be the calm one in this type of situation…” Regis frowned to himself and leaned against the door frame next to him. 

A small huff of laughter came from Dettlaff's chest as he watched down the hall for your arrival, noting the  lack of presence, “May I be  honest with you, Regis?” Dettlaff started in a voice wrapped in unusual softness, continuing after a solemn nod from the man.

 “I’m terrified. I have been for days. Each night sleep drags me away, kicking and screaming, as I desperately try to stay awake to hear the next heartbeat,” he sighed into the open air, “but I can’t let her see that, because this will work- It has to work- there’s no time for another option and It-” his voice grew and grew before coming to a sudden halt, a momentary frown spreading its way across his features before it was quickly hidden away again. “It has to work…,” he finished with a callous whisper.

Regis watched the journey of expressions on Dettlaff’s face, usually, it was usually one so open with emotions that twisted and turned into something new with each action. But now it was forced; as if he was trying to pull one feeling away and everything came down with it. It was not calmness by choice, but calmness by utter necessity that motivated his friend now.

Regis’s shoulders relaxed down at his sides as he took in these words, swirling them around his head like wine in a tall glass. Perhaps he had been rational and put together for far too long; the the thought- the desperation- of saving a pack member being the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Perhaps desperate times called for seemingly irrational measures.

The gray-haired man nodded quietly, looking forward down the empty hall as well, “It’s amazing… the way a simple person can change us so fundamentally.” 

“I hate it.” 

Regis couldn’t help but laugh a little at the darker man’s abruptness, a tiny smile creeping onto his sullen lips as well. 

“Well-” Dettlaff amended, “It can be nice at times, I suppose… but I still hate it,”

The two men straightened as footfalls rounded the corner and into the hall. Amelia walked down the hall, stout, strong arms holding you tall as you swayed with your step. A gentle smile graced your lips as you saw the loving blue storms of Dettlaff's eyes, watching you with a mixture of resigned worry and desperate devotion. 

“Are you ready, my dearest moth?” He asked as his hand slipped into yours, fingers brushing over the thrum of your pulse in your wrist.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, my darling bat.” you chuckled softly at your new nickname for your beloved, your laugh echoed easily by that of Dettlaff’s.

Regis, with a relatively calm smile for the first time in a few hours, stepped forward, handing you a cup of warm, red, thick liquid. “The research suggested that some herbs might help in the process of transmission… and I added a little something for pain in there too. It should taste-” the man paused, struggling to lie, “ uh, fine… ish…. More or less.” 

You laughed harder, genuine joy filling you before your side quickly replaced it all with the strain of such emotion. “Ah, oh… It’s much appreciated Regis.” you said as you looked down into the cup, swirling it around slowly- to which it hardly moved. You looked to the older man as you hesitated, your stomach pleading at you not to do it, only to be met with an expectant stare. The same from Dettlaff, and Amelia- the only two you thought might have your back in this. “Uh… down the hatch I guess…?” 

Reluctant, but trusting, you took a big gulp of the viscous medicine- your eyes nearly bursting forth from your head as the taste hit your tongue. The barely muffled chuckle from the group only grew as It took three agonizing swallows to get it all down. “Oh my days, I wasn’t ready for chunks….” you shuddered at the mere memory of it.

But, despite the mental years you aged in those three gulps it was truly the best medicine to see the three people you held dearest laughing amongst each other. If luck will have you, it may be your greatest memory for ages to come. 

Your love’s gentle, yet hurried hands coaxed you through the door into the dimly lit room. Candle flames bobbed and danced in greeting as you passed around toward the bed, the warm orange glow cut only by the pale silver light of the moon through the window. 

Your side rippled with discomfort as you sat on the edge of the bed, Dettlaff coming to kneel before you. Pinpricks of sweat dotted your skin as your nervousness swelled and grew in your stomach. However, as you slipped your hand into his hands, a deep breath quivering in your lungs, your nervousness slowly ebbed. 

Silvery blue eyes, tinted orange in the candlelight, watched your every move, wordless and waiting patiently for your permission.

After a quiet gulp, you managed to whisper. 

“I’m ready…”

He nodded slowly as his face changed in the moon’s pale light. Formerly angry creases seemed far more soft as you looked at him now, light eyes glowing softly as predatory fangs glistened. Your bated breaths echoed in the room as your beloved leaned in close, his flattened nose tenderly brushing against your neck’s heated skin. 

“I apologize, my dear..” His lips grazed your delicate skin as he spoke, seeking to distract you for just a moment before a sharp pain pierced your neck. Razor-sharp teeth sank deep into the muscles of your neck, finding the thrumming artery easily. 

A whimper escaped your throat as you winced against the pain, your tight features soon easing as the pain numbed into a pleasant sensation. You hadn’t even realized the way your hand gripped his jacket tight, your knuckles white with the effort.

His face pulled away, lips vivid with a thin smear of crimson which his tongue quickly darted out to clear. Warm liquid wept from your neck as a metallic smell wafted generously into your nose.  “I know, my dear. I’ve got you…” came your lover’s soothing words as his hand rose to your wounded neck, his palm now slit open and dripping its own shade of red. 

It came slow at first, the faint tingling sensation where your blood mingled with his. A pleasant, numbing heat inched itself through your veins, the temperature slowly growing as it slithered down your neck into your chest. 

You winced as the pool of warmth wrapped around your heart with a firm squeeze, growing and bubbling like magma. Your lungs gasped, desperately trying to catch the cool air around you, to little avail. Your fingers sought out Dettlaff’s arm for solace as his forehead pressed against yours firmly. Your vision swam and your stomach knotted, between it all you didn’t  even register the way your fingernails dug into his soft  flesh.

In one heartbeat the overwhelming heat ebbed away, letting your lungs fill with brisk air for one joyful, fleeting moment as you let your guard down.

'Was that all? I thought Regis said-'

Yet, in the very next heartbeat, you were sorely proven wrong. Hot lava shot through your veins, burning everything that came with it, as a scream tore through your throat with savage ferocity. Your bones boiled like a raging furnace, you could have sworn your flesh was sizzling off your bones with the sheer heat of it.

Your eyes squeezed shut as another pitiful yell rang out and your arms and legs writhed viciously as pain controlled your movements. Endless waves came and went with each passing heartbeat, with every pump of mingling blood cells. You were sure it had only been a minute, but your body would insist that hours went by like this.

 'This can't be it' you thought beyond the haze of your heated skin, 'I'm so sorry, Dettlaff, my love. I thought we'd have more time...'

"My moth... Please hold on. I know it hurts, but just hold onto me- hold onto my voice," his deep rumbles echoed softly in your ears, your consciousness reaching out desperately to hold on.

"I'm right here..." Discomfort distorted his voice, as your muscles tightened and spasmed again. Were you hurting him? You didn't even have the wherewithal to know.

'I'm sorry' you tried to say, but it came out as nothing more than an unintelligible whimper. 

You did everything you could to stay coherent, but your body refused to cooperate any longer- and so into writhing darkness you fell; void of feeling, sound, and time.

....

Until you felt a gentle caress run down your cheek, the soft touch of life- of existing- sliding down your face and brushing across your parted lips.

You made it..?

_________

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#sorry if there’s typos this was edited real quick because I just really wanted to get it out #I’m not the proudest of this one but I think it works (esp for the conditions it was written in) #witcher self insert #dettlaff #Dettlaff imagine #Dettlaff x you #dettlaff x reader #dettlaff x y/n #dettlaff van der eretein x reader #Dettlaff van der eretein x you #dettlaff van der eretein x y/n #dettlaff van der eretein imagine

[nessieart]

TEETH pt. 16

WC: 3k

Warnings: fluff? Canon level blood & violence, cursing.

AN: sorry this took so long! But thank you for sticking with me and this journey!! <3

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Masterlist

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You and Bruce flitted around the kitchen pretty seamlessly together. He would tell you where something was, and you'd get it for him.  He decided spaghetti and meatballs and a salad was a perfect dinner, and you agreed.

When the island in the kitchen was set, you and Bruce brought dinner out, and you called for Tony to join you.  Bruce had sat, at your insistence, as you went to pull the garlic bread from the oven.  When you turned, Tony was leaning against the doorframe, a soft look on his features as he looked at you.  You smiled at him in return, and his eyes seemed to focus back to you. He shook his head like he was lost in thought.

You sat across from Bruce at the island, and Tony took his place next to you.  Dinner was pleasant with quiet conversation here and there, Tony picking Bruce's brain about something science-y and Bruce asking how you've been since the last time he saw you. 

You weren't sure what Tony had told him about last Christmas, so you opted to tell them about your time with your brother's, starting with the months you spent in the pacific northwest, staying with Artie and helping him around his cabin.  How you then traveled to the Grand Canyon and ran into Leon, staying with him for half a year. Trying to talk about Leon and your time with him made your throat tight and the words heavy.  Tony placed a hand on your thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"We didn't leave on good terms," you say softly, moving the remaining bits of spaghetti around your plate. "He was upset, and words were said…and," you sigh.

Tony scoffed, "'Words were said'. Threatened.  He threatened you, honey," his eyes were like a burning fire when you looked over to him, his hand on your thigh squeezed again and you put your own hand over his running your thumb along his knuckles. 

You nod, "Well, I did lie to him for 60 years, so I think he has a reason to be upset." 

Bruce hasn't really spoken up since you started your tale, but his eyebrows furrow in a question as he looks between you and Tony. 

"What do you mean, lied?" Bruce asked. There was concern written all over his face. He was just curious. 

"I told him that Hunters killed our brothers.  Which wasn't a total lie, I guess.  I thought they were hunters.  I just never told him about the man with the metal arm."

"Crazy psychopath, more like," Tony muttered.  “Part of a super secret evil spy thing.  Killed Fury, destroyed half of D.C., tried to kill Rogers and anyone with him. You included!"  Tony's voice was rising the longer he talked, half shouting the end of his sentence.

You jumped up, stool flying backward and clattering to the ground with the force.

“You don't know what you're talking about!”  You shouted, chest heaving slightly.  “It wasn't his fault… he…he didn't have a choice.  You don't know what they did to him,” you give a glance at Tony and Bruce, and they seem surprised by your outburst.  A small whine gets lodged in your throat, and you go to leave, but Tony grabs your hand to stop you.

Your back is turned to Bruce and Tony as you hold back tears, swallowing thickly you inhale a shaky breath. 

"You don't know how much I want to hate him," You look over your shoulder to Tony, his brow creased in worry.  Maybe Tony would understand, but it's not your place to tell him what you think you know. "I swore to myself I'd kill the man who killed my brothers.  But then I saw what they did to him and who it was," a tear escapes your lashes and burns hot down your cheek.  "He saved my life twice, and I don't know why."

There's a heavy silence that sits in the air, Tony's hand in yours squeezes and then tugs, and you go willingly into his arms as he wraps you in a tight hug, his lips rest on your temple as you cling to him.

A throat clears across the kitchen, and you peer over Tony's shoulders to where the noise came from.  Through blurred vision, you can see a woman with strawberry blonde hair looking very concerned. You sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes.

She lets out a small gasp when she realizes it's you, "Poppy," she smiles and you wiggle out of Tony's hold to run to Pepper and hug her, she wraps her arms around your shoulders and hugs you tight. "Hello, sweet girl," she murmurs into your hair.  You squeak out a quiet Hi, and breathe deep, Pepper smells like warm vanilla and lavender.  Her hand comes up to the back of your head and smooths over your hair.  She looks from Tony to Bruce and back again, mouthing out a, What the hell happened? 

Bruce fiddles with his hands, avoiding eye contact, and Tony shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders.  Pepper rolls her eyes at them and guides you out of the kitchen and towards the couch.

You don't realize how exhausted you are until Pepper makes you sit with her on the couch.  The mix of familiar scents around the room coating you like a blanket and Pepper rubs your arm up and down. You lean heavily on her, and she guides you to lay your head on her lap.  Her hand softly rubs circles on your back.  You're purring before long, and your eyes droop shut.

-*-

Tony sat on the back of the couch, his shoulders slumped, and arms crossed at his chest.  His body twisted to look at Pepper, his ex-girlfriend, with his current…whatever they were, in her lap sleeping.  Poppy was important to him. He knew that.  Putting a label on something this new was hard for him.

Tony could hear Bruce cleaning up the remnants of dinner, and after a few minutes, he came to stand next to Tony, his hands shoved in his pockets.  Bruce looked tired, Tony noted. In all fairness, Tony was tired, too.  Too many late nights in the lab, and worrying about the sleeping form of the woman on the couch he cared about more than he'd like to admit.  All three sat in comfortable silence while they listened to the soft snores of his Poppy as she drifted into a deep sleep.

Pepper was the first to break the silence, "How did she get here? What happened?" She spoke softly, her finger ran along a scar above Poppy's eyebrow that he hadn't noticed until now.  What had happened?  Tony knew the bare minimum, but he hadn’t watched any of the CCTV footage from the last few days.

He heaved a sigh, shifting his position to bring one leg bent over the couch and resting a hand on his knee.  His brows furrowed as he thought, surely it wouldn’t hurt to learn a bit more of the events that happened in D.C., right?  It’s not like it was all a big secret now anyway,  Romanoff made sure of that.  JARVIS had alerted him the minute all of SHIELDs files -secret or otherwise - and subsequently HYDRAs files as well were leaked all over the internet.  He had wanted to go through them all, but with Poppy and then Bruce and his big green passenger had distracted him for most of the day.

So, here he sat, three of the most important people in his life right now; two best friends and a blossoming new love in the sleeping form of a supernatural oversized Dog. More or less.  He won’t say that out loud, though.

“JARVIS, be a dear, and bring up the footage you have of D.C. from the last few days, yeah?”  Tony ran a hand down his face and scratched at his goatee, he’d have to shave soon, he thought. 

The large TV across from the couch blinked to life. The screen was split in quarters, showing different angles of a highway.  Steady traffic made its way on both sides of the median.  The top left video showed light traffic making its way back towards the city, a hummer sped its way weaving through cars, a man clad in black with long hair, goggles and a mask over his face came out of the sunroof.  He hauled himself out and onto the hood, positioning himself just right, and he jumped from the hummer onto another car's roof, smashing his silver shining hand through the back window and a moment later pulling a man from the car and into oncoming traffic on the other side of the highway.

Pepper let out a quiet gasp, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth as her other hand still ran over the head of the woman fast asleep on her lap.

The CCTV footage continued, changing angles as it followed the car with the mysterious man with a silver arm.  He took a gun out from his back and began firing through the roof at the occupants inside the car.  The footage then zoomed in - thanks, J. - on the passengers of the car that was under attack.

“Is- is that Steve?”  Asked Bruce. He removed his glasses and stared wide-eyed at the screen.  “Natasha?” 

They could see Nat going to aim at the man on the roof of the car, then the footage cuts, and the video jumps to the car being rammed from behind. The windshield was smashed, and the car crashed into the median and began to flip. There's a collected intake of breath as the trio watch as Steve grabs Nat and the man in the driver's seat and slides out of the car relatively unscathed.

The car flips and tumbles a couple hundred yards down the road before it comes to a stop upside down.  The footage changes angles again and zooms in on a figure crawling out of the rear windshield, glass sticking out of her skin, visible blood from the wounds on her body.  A giant gash on her forehead weeded blood down her face and in her eye.

They all looked down at the woman sleeping peacefully on the couch, Pepper ran her finger along the scar again, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.  They hadn’t known she was even in the car from what they could see.

The quartered off footage then switched to an underpass, an explosion caught off screen, then a body sailing off the overpass into a bus, which crashed moments later.  The footage skips again to view the intersection of the crash from a block away. The whole area zoomed out wide.  The trio sat on the edge of their seats as they saw Natasha running down the street, waving off pedestrians, and the next second someone tackling her behind a car.  They could see Steve fight the silver-armed man, and then the angle changed again, slumped over clutching her stomach, was Poppy.  Blood oozing from a wound they couldn’t see.  She had saved Nat by pushing her out of the way but caught the bullet instead.

There was a whimper and a sniffle from the couch, and Tony looked down to see Pepper holding in the sobs that wracked her body.  She shook lightly, clamping a hand over her mouth as she let her emotions out silently.  Poppy grunted and tilted her head up towards the noise, her eyes peeking open to look at Pepper.

“Pep,” her voice rough with sleep, she brought a hand up to Pepper’s face.  Her eyebrows creased as she rested her hand on Pepper’s cheek.  “Wh-what’s wrong?”  She’d barely slept for 45 minutes, Tony noted when he glanced at the clock.

Pepper threw her arms around Poppy as she quietly cried onto her shoulder, shifting her up to sit.  Poppy’s eyes grew wide as she returned the hug. She looked at Tony and Bruce for an answer, but they just looked back at her with sad eyes.  Her back was facing the TV, so she couldn’t see what was playing behind her.  STRIKE team handcuffed Steve, his friend with the weird backpack, and Natasha.  Poppy is dragged to a separate van away from her friends.  The visible protest could be seen from all three of the handcuffed individuals.  Steve fought the hardest to get to Poppy, her body limp in the hands of men in black tac-suits, but to no avail, they threw her in the back of the van, shut the door, and drove off.

-*-

The sudden jolt from deep sleep to abruptly awake was so jarring it took you a few moments to realize Pepper was crying into your neck.  She had pulled you to sit up, and you wrapped your arms around her back, letting out a low purr to soothe her.  Her scent turned damp and sour the longer she shook with sadness. 

Pepper pulled back suddenly, keeping you at arm's length, her eyes wide and red rimmed.  She suddenly lifted the front of your shirt up and then ran her hand along your abdomen, stopping when she found what she was looking for. She made a noise, something akin to shock and horror.

"I uh," you started, but it died out when Pepper gave you a look that said don't lie to me.  You gulped and looked up to Tony, but he was focused on the healed over bullet wound on your stomach.  Looking at Bruce wasn't any better. He had paced away with his hands on his hair and was taking deep, calming breaths. 

You crane your neck behind you and see glimpses of D.C.  The helicarriers lifting out of the Potomac, Sam flying to avoid being gunned down in the air, and one screen of an old bank vault.  You turned out of Pepper’s hold and stood, eyes focused on part of the TV that showed the Winter Soldier towering over you.  The image flickered, some old surveillance camera tucked away in the corner of the room away from any eyes that would notice it. 

But there it was, you poking the bear, as you tried to make yourself seem bigger than you were.  JARVIS, the ever-present companion, enlarged the feed, so it projected across the whole TV.  You could access your injuries now, not really aware of the damage at the time.  The gash that was on your forehead above your eyebrow had two butterfly stitches sealing it closed, a split lip, scrapes along the left side of your face from the car crash and glass shards, and a healing bruise across your cheek.  You subconsciously touch your healed cheek now. It was probably fractured then.

On the screen, your arm hugged your middle as you put pressure on the bullet wound on your stomach. The blood had seeped through the bandage a little.  Your knuckles were once bloody and had started to heal over, as well.  Small scrapes from the glass of the car littered your arms, the jeans you wore, torn and ripped at the knees, and you were barefoot. 

All in all, the worst of it was the silver bullet wound, and that had healed to a bright scar on your stomach now.  

The Soldier tilted his head to the side as you spoke to him, then poked him in the chest, and then punched him. Only for him not to move a muscle.  You reared your hand back to hit him again, and he caught your fist in his flesh hand.  You sat back down on the couch and huffed.  You know what happens, know what they do to Bucky, and you aren’t sure you want to see it again.  You cross your arms over your chest, and Pepper comes closer to you and puts a hand on your arm.  You look up in time to see the Soldier wipe a tear from your face with his metal fingers. 

Tony inhales sharply from behind you, and you hear him grip the top of the couch tightly with his hand.  The next second, the Soldier steps away from you back towards the chair.  You stop watching now, letting the scene play out before your eyes in your mind. Piercing entering the room, speaking to the Soldier, the scientists preparing him for the machine.  And his screams that will never leave you.  You shut your eyes, trying to think of something else.  Pepper's grip on your arm tightens as she gasps. Tony makes a noise of surprise, as does Bruce.

"What the fuck?"  Tony mutters and stands.  You feel like you can hear the screams without looking up.  But you aren't blessed with silence for long and the volume is turned on.  Bucky's screams of agony fill the living room, and so do your sobs and pleas for them to stop.  Your strangled cries, after the collar is placed around your neck, fall on deaf ears.

"Enough!!" You yell, and the TV screen goes blank. Your chest heaves as you try to reel in your sudden anger.  Your skin ripples with want to Shift, but you hold it back, Pepper is still clinging onto your arm.  Her eyes are big and wet as she looks at you. "I don't want your pity, please.  I'm fine," you look away from her.

Tony and Bruce come around the front of the couch, Bruce sits next to you, and Tony kneels down in front of you between your legs.  As if they're all on the same wavelength, they hug you. 

Tony wraps his arms around your middle and rests his head on your chest, Bruce hugging you from the left and Pepper from the right.  You're so stunned you don't move for a good 30 seconds.  The warmth of the embrace is so overwhelming, and tears form in your eyes.  You never remember how touch starved you are until someone actually touches you and gives you affection.

You bury your face into Tony's hair, inhale deeply, and hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck.  It's been a long time since you've felt so safe, so loved.  The purr you let loose is loud and calming.

The four of you squeeze each other a little tighter, just for a little longer.

-*-

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x shifter!reader #shifter!reader #mcu fanfiction #tony stark imagine #teeth part 16