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allthatjazz416 · 2 days ago

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Nanami NSFW 🎀

"His favorite position" A short Nanami fic Tags: Fem!Reader (Can be GN? Mentions of female genitals but mostly focused on penetration) MatingPress! BreedingKink! Creampie! DirtyTalk! Possesive!Nanami! NoPullingOut! WordCount: 1.6k Notes: HIII! My classes have finally started so I wont be able to be as active as I'd like anymore 😭 But yeah, I've had mating press brainrot for a bunch of characters but focused on Nanami. Dividers:@/cursed-carmine & @/cafekitsune

Nanami likes to watch you like this. Pinned beneath him, folded nearly in half, your legs up in the air, cunt stretched wide around the thick base of his cock.

His favorite position. And you know it. You can tell by the way he looks at you—calm, controlled, but wrecked just beneath the surface. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw locked, a thin sheen of sweat dripping down his neck as he holds your thighs apart and grinds in deeper.

“You always take me best like this,” he mutters, voice gravelly as he bottoms out again, slow and brutal. “Fucking made for it.”

Your moans are high and sharp, voice cracking as he angles his thrusts to hit that spot—that one spot—over and over again, relentless and mean in the way only Nanami can be. Focused. Exacting. Punishing.

“ M’so tight,” he breathes, watching your face twist with every grind of his hips. “So perfect for me...”

Skin slapping against skin in hard, steady rhythm. Your cunt squelches wetly with every thrust, obscene and loud where he's buried so deep inside you, dragging against your walls like he’s trying to carve himself into your body.

You swear you can hear it more than you can think—the drag, the slide, the stretch of you swallowing him down again and again.

And he loves it. You can see it in the way his eyelids go heavy, in the way his hips rock just a little harder when your wetness gets louder, dripping down your crack to soak the sheets under your ass. He pulls back almost all the way—just enough for you to feel the stretch at the rim, the unbearable emptiness—and then slams back in with a grunt, hips crashing against yours so hard your thighs jiggle where they’re pinned against your chest.

“S-Shit—Kento—!”

You sob through it, toes curling where they hang limp in the air, body jolting under every brutal thrust. There’s no room to move. No space to breathe. Just the weight of him above you, the thick press of his cock inside you, and the way the whole bed shakes beneath his rhythm.

You’re not even sure he can stop.

“You're taking all of me,” he mutters, voice low, wrecked, almost like it’s paining him. His brow furrows deeper, sweat dripping off his temple. “It’s too much, isn’t it? But you’re still letting me in.”

He pushes in deeper, impossibly so, until his cockhead grinds flush against the deepest part of you, until you’re gasping and twitching and going dumb under him.

And then he grinds.

Not thrusts—grinds, slow and deep and heavy, hips rolling into yours so you can feel every thick inch press up into the softest, most tender parts of your pussy.

It’s disgusting how loud it is.

The wet, sloppy slap of your cunt sucking him back in. The sharp, rhythmic clap of his pelvis pounding yours, echoing off the walls. The choked, breathless cries he fucks out of you with every grind. The way your body sloshes, overstretched and full, every time he pushes his cum deeper inside you.

You feel used, absolutely—owned. Marked.

Your hands scrabble weakly at his biceps, nails digging in like you need something to hold onto before you fly apart. But Nanami doesn’t waver. His breathing is rough in your ear, a strained growl buried in every exhale.

“You feel that?” he murmurs again, lower this time, almost to himself. “Still fluttering around me.”

He sounds... fascinated. Like he still can’t believe how good you feel every time he sinks into you. Like he doesn’t want to stop. Doesn’t plan to.

You whimper, broken. “Kento—so big… So full…”

He doesn’t hush you. Doesn’t argue. Just presses his forehead to yours, lips brushing your cheek like a secret.

“I know,” he says, voice a quiet rasp. “But I need a little more.”

And he means it. He doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t give you a moment to breathe, doesn’t even let your legs drop from where they’re still folded against your chest. He shifts just slightly, readjusts his hips and pushes in deeper somehow, grinding slow as if he’s trying to mold your cunt to the exact shape of him

You clench again, involuntarily, and he groans—low and breathy—as your walls squeeze around him, still drenched, still sucking him in like you want him to stay there forever.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Still so fucking wet.”

And you are. Loudly. The wet squelch of your overstretched pussy surrounds every grind of his hips, each slow thrust a vulgar glide through the mess he’s already made inside you—slick with his cum, your slick, sweat, everything.

Your legs tremble where they’re still pinned tight to your chest, thighs pressed to your stomach, knees near your shoulders. You can feel your own slick dripping down the backs of them, pooling beneath you, every slow grind squelching louder, wetter, nastier.

You can’t stop moaning—each one more cracked and wrecked than the last.

His pelvis slaps into you again, deep and punishing, and you sob, fingers clawing weakly at the sheets.

“You’re doing so well,” Nanami breathes, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your mouth. “Taking everything. Every time.”

You whimper, trying to kiss him back, but you’re too gone, lips parting around a shaky gasp instead. He doesn’t mind. Just kisses your temple, your hairline, thrusting slow and deep like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

It’s torture—deliberate and focused. The kind only Nanami can give.

Each grind of his hips presses you harder into the mattress, cock dragging through oversensitive walls, still soaked with the last orgasm you haven’t even come down from.

He pulls back just an inch—just to feel your pussy tighten—and then sinks back in with a low groan, deep enough to knock the air from your lungs. It’s so much. Too much. You’re full, stretched, trembling under him, twitching with every roll of his hips.

“You feel that?” he murmurs again, his voice hoarse now, his composure finally starting to fray. “Still sucking me in.”

You choke on a cry, legs shaking hard as you clutch his wrist, the one beside your head, needing something to hold.

“I-I can’t,” you whisper, breath hitching. “Kento—please—”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow, sweet, so at odds with the filth of what he’s doing to you.

“You can,” he says again, not even trying to be stern—just sure. “One more. Just for me.”

Then he fucks into you harder—not faster, just deeper. More deliberate. His hips snap forward with purpose, each thrust heavier, rougher, angled perfectly to rub against that devastating spot deep inside.

Your whole body goes tight, voice caught in your throat, and he feels it—feels the way your cunt clamps down, how your legs jerk where they’re trapped between you.

“There it is,” he breathes, lips brushing your jaw, your neck. “That’s it. Let it go.”

And you do. Again. Pathetically, beautifully.

You come with a soundless cry, body arched, mouth open, eyes rolled back. Your pussy clenches around him so hard he nearly loses it—has to grit his teeth and hold still, fingers fisting in your hair as he tries not to break.

But you won’t let him. Not with the way you’re still fluttering around him, still wet, still twitching.

He pulls out an inch. Just one. Then pushes back in again, slow and shaking.

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally. “I’m—gonna fill you up again, sweetheart.”

But this time, there’s no question.

No asking. No hesitation.

Just a quiet, deliberate snap of his hips, a low groan in your ear, and the final, brutal grind as he stays buried to the base. Deep. Possessive. Intentional.

You feel it before you hear it—the way his cock twitches, hard and insistent, followed by the hot rush of cum flooding your already soaked cunt. Thick. Endless. So much it starts to leak before he’s even finished, pushed out by the sheer force of his orgasm.

Nanami moans, low and wrecked, his head dropping to your shoulder as his hands slide down your sides, holding you still. Holding you open. His weight presses into you, thighs trembling slightly as he ruts through the last waves of it, cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls.

He’s breathing hard now, voice raw.

“Filling you up,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “That’s right… take it.”

Your legs twitch around his hips, overstimulated and weak, but you don’t pull away—and he doesn’t let you. He just stays there, thick and warm inside you, like he belongs.

His cum oozes around the base of his cock, hot and messy, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. And still, he doesn’t move.

He presses his forehead to yours again, breath mingling with yours.

“I’m staying,” he murmurs, voice low and sure. “I know you don’t like it when I leave right away.”

There’s a faint exhale through his nose—almost a laugh, almost a sigh—as he brushes his lips against your cheek.

You whimper softly, eyes fluttering shut, body still trembling with the aftershocks.

“Gonna keep you like this a little longer,” he says, quieter now, his hand smoothing the damp hair from your forehead. The same hand that held you down, that touched you like he owned you—now careful, reverent. “Let it soak. Let it take.”

You don’t say anything. Can’t. You just nod, small and dazed, your breathing finally slowing as the weight of him settles over you—his cock still nestled inside, his cum still warm and spilling where your bodies stay joined.

And Nanami kisses you again. Unhurried. Deep. Tender in a way that makes your chest ache.

He doesn't move to pull out. Doesn't even try. Just holds you there, exactly how he wants you—folded under him, filled, and his.

The End! 🤍

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hoolaand · 3 days ago

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Max Verstappen

💌: toxic max x reader

Max was not someone who played about you. He deemed you as one of the most important people in his life. Whatever you demanded was prioritised the most. You had him wrapped around your finger and he knew that, but he genuinely didn't care. But all the good things came with a consequence.

Dating him felt like a fairytale. You never had to ask him for anything. He did it for you willingly. He did the bare minimum and made princess treatment a priority.

Opening doors for you. Check.

Giving flowers every week. Check.

Cooking food for you whenever he was home. Check.

Bringing you gifts and souvenirs everytime he travelled abroad. Check.

Gifting you jewellery without letting you know about the tracker inside it. Chec- Oh.

That was something Max wouldn't tell you. The little diamond necklace you wore all the time, only taking it off during showers that Max gave you at the beginning of your situationship had a cute little tracker in it as well. He made sure to know where you were at all times. All the time.

No, it was not a joke.

All the time.

With that, he made sure you knew what he wanted. He would never raise his voice at you. Never. He would rather explain it to you gently. Making sure his voice was soft because he hated to see you flinch. But he didn't miss the flinch when you noticed his car parked in an empty lot to a party you didn't tell him about. He liked that flinch. Your spine straightening up and your eyes widening. He took pride knowing he was the reason you made that reaction.

2 am. Empty parking lot. With the headlights of his Porsche cutting through the darkness like a freshly bladed knife.

He didn't start an argument or shout at you when he drove you home. He just simply didn't talk. He went cold. No response, no soft murmurs. He went cold.

And that made you panic and he knew that.

No flowers. No greetings. No nicknames. No gifts. No calls.

Only one or two text messages every few days.

This was love bombing. And it worked. You came crawling back, showing up on his door with tears in your eyes and apologies stuttering out your mouth. That was when the idea of letting him know where you were at all times was planted on your mind.

He was protective. Over protective. He didn't like your male friends and his eyes narrowed everytime he heard you talk about or to them. Not even your gay male friends. He made sure that they were out of the picture soon enough. Suddenly, your closest friends started isolating you. Partying and planning on dates without you and weeks later, they didn't even bother to reply back. You cried but you cried in his arms and that's what it mattered. Now, you didn't send your outfit pictures to your friends but rather to him.

With that came something, he'd never want you to know. The documents and polaroids of you. He had a file of you with every information his private investigation could dig out. Your childhood home, favorite book, pet, teacher, color and what not. Everything including your digital footprint in return of a hefty sum.

It would be an understatement if said that Max would go to any lengths for you. He pressed charges and made his legal team remove articles and pictures of you in bikinis whenever you guys would party at his private yacht because no one deserved to see you in that except him. Journalists who wrote foul things about you had their careers absolutely destroyed and never dared to enter the paddock again.

And god knows what would happen if you ever tried to break up with him. He was a man of immense power and wealth. He knew every single thing about you and had people keeping an eye on you when he couldn't. And that was okay because if you came to knew about it, you would just have to adapt to it because there would be no where to run.

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mattsundaes · 3 days ago

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suna rintarou x f!reader — 18+, period sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, blood, and they were roommates

roommate!suna who never fails to notice when you’re upset. who’s all snark and flirting until the moment that the downturn of your mouth seems genuine.

who hates the dickhead you’ve been sleeping with.

who hates him even more when you try to wipe away the fresh sheen of tears that coats your cheeks when you quietly slip in the door just past midnight.

who doesn’t even have it in him to make a teasing remark about your late night booty call not even letting you sleep over, not when you collapse on the couch beside him in a heap of sniffles. not when he recognizes the sweatshirt you’re wearing as his.

and when suna asks what’s wrong, you find that you’re too tired, too annoyed, too flustered to make up any excuse other than telling him what really happened—you got your period, and he thought it was gross. gross enough to make it abundantly clear he didn’t want you spending the night in his bed, either.

and because it’s suna and the boundaries of conversation between the two of you are nonexistent on a good day anyway, you dig your hole even deeper as you pathetically lament into a throw pillow, “i’ve been so horny all week and my vibrator broke and i kind of feel like i’m losing my mind so now i’m going to have to go use the shower head so i don’t make a gross mess—“

maybe it’s just because you’re exhausted.

maybe it’s because you know the guy you’ve been hooking up with hates suna just as much as suna hates him.

maybe it’s because the ache between your thighs has reached a maddening fever pitch.

“—i have a better idea.”

maybe it’s because you’ve been fumbling beneath a suffocating blanket of sexual tension with suna for years.

whatever it is, when suna interrupts you, your mouth snaps shut, and you tilt your head with interest.

he huffs out a quiet laugh at the way you perk up, thumb wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “you’ve just got to trust me.”

trusting him, as it turns out, looks like you sitting on top of a towel on the couch with your legs spread, suna kneeling on the floor in front of you. and you don’t even have time to feel yourself burn with embarrassment over the mess he’s looking at, not when suna outright groans as he sinks a long finger into your soaked folds.

“stop covering your face,” suna murmurs, his gaze boring a hole into your own when he starts pumping two fingers in and out of your wet hole, every thrust met by the filthy squelch of blood and arousal.

you let your hands drop back down to your sides, head falling against the back of the sofa as he curls his fingers inside of you and strokes your swollen clit with his thumb.

“and don’t ever let anyone tell you this is gross,” he breathes out, free hand caressing your inner thigh as your blood coats his fingers.

“isn’t it, though?” you exhale, hips twitching as pleasure ricochets through your nerves, the coil in your gut winding tighter as you feel the towel beneath your ass grow wetter by the minute.

suna breathes out through his nose, an amused exhale, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just shy of the smear of blood that’s dripped all over it. “do you know how hard i am right now?”

you inhale sharply at the implication, and suna grins, pumping your soaked, filthy cunt even faster.

“if anything, you’ll think i’m the gross one for what else i wanna do,” he murmurs, teeth grazing your skin.

something bright and hot slides down your spine, and you swallow hard. “show me.”

if suna’s fingers in your blood-soaked pussy had you squirming, his tongue has you on the verge of sobbing, desperate tears clinging to the corners of your eyes as his name tumbles from your throat in gasping, hiccuping breaths.

fingers buried in his dark hair, suna moans as he eats you out, one hand clearly palming his dick through his shorts as he laves at your wet slit, sucks on your throbbing clit, and thrusts his tongue into your tight hole.

you think you’re begging for something, anything. you don’t even know what at this point. suna sounds just as wrecked as you feel, your blood smeared all over his lips and chin as he fucks you relentlessly with his tongue like he’s trying to devour your pleasure whole.

your orgasm tears through you, shoving a scream of pleasure past your lips while suna thrusts two fingers back inside of you and laps at your clit until you’re shaking and whimpering from the overstimulation.

—but it’s not enough, somehow.

not when you see the sticky, red mess all over his face and hands.

not when you watch him lick one of his fingers clean.

not when you see the wet spot of precum that stains the front of his shorts, his erection still straining against the material.

suna seems genuinely surprised when you rise from the couch and push him to the floor, eyebrows shooting up as you pull down his shorts and boxers and let his flushed cock spring free.

you stare down at him for a moment, the unspoken words written clearly across your face—but will you think i’m gross for what else i want to do?

suna smiles, hands sliding over your thighs as you straddle him, and he mouths, show me.

it’s filthy—the way you slide your soaked folds up and down the length of his cock. the blood and arousal that soaks his dick as you tease him until he’s gasping.

until he’s groaning your name and panting as you ease his thick cock into your aching pussy, his hips twitching with each wet, sticky inch.

you ride suna until you come all over his cock, until the feeling of your tight cunt contracting desperately on his length is what finally sends him over the edge, stuffing you deep as he fucks his cum up into you with sloppy, jerking thrusts.

you’re both a mess when it’s over, blood and cum sliding down his dick and dripping from between your thighs, the carpet somehow spared from it all as you reach behind you for the towel.

“shower?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

you raise a brow, “now you think i’m gross?”

“no,” suna smirks. “i was just hoping you’d show me how you were planning on using our showerhead.”

#suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #rambling: r. suna #roommate!suna #haikyuu #dee writes

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simpforboys · 13 hours ago

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Hear me out bimbo!mistress!reader and Rafe r fucking on the couch and Rafe is pressing down on you're stomach while his wife calls him and lets him know that she is on her way home so he has to be make it quick

Rafe fucks bimbo!mistress!reader on the couch

warnings: cheating, age gap, older!Rafe and younger!reader, protected sex (reader on bc), fucking while on the phone, dirty talk, creampie, squirting, daddy kink

series masterlist

The way your tits bounced in Rafe’s face as you rode him quickly on the large sofa of his mansion was absolutely one of his favorite things in the world.

Rafe had it all. Money, power, status, a family. But his favorite thing, other than his kids, was you.

Your face contorted in pleasure, freshly manicured hands digging all over his broad shoulders and chest as he fucked his cock up into you.

The two of you were absolutely filthy. Addicted to each other.

“Jus’ like that, baby… ridin’ daddy s’good.”

His big hands grabbed fistfuls of your bouncing ass, his mouth leaning forward to capture a nipple into his greedy mouth.

A whimper left your lips, his big, thick cock stuffing your cunt just right.

But then the sound of his phone going off made Rafe groan against your nipple, your pussy tightening around him at the sudden intrusion. He snuck a peak over, his blue eyes rolling when he saw it was his wife.

“Keep quiet, angel. Can ya do that f’me?” He coos, a twisted smirk curling on his lips when you desperately nodded and moved to start grinding against him.

“Good girl…” he grabbed his cell phone, clicking the accept button before holding it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He asked, gently guiding your movements to be soft and quiet to not raise any suspicion.

You put a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises, hooded eyes looking down at Rafe as he stared up at you.

“Rafe, I’m on the way. Be there in twenty.” Sofia says, before hanging up the phone. Cold and emotionless, always lacking the love they once had many years ago.

Rafe grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had only gotten two rounds with you, and he was hoping for at least four.

“We gotta make it quick, angel. Wife’s on the way.” He spoke softly, throwing his phone to the other side of the couch before his hands found themselves on your waist, his thumbs gently massaging your skin.

You huff, a slight pout on your face. But you knew better than to argue, always wanting to be obedient for your daddy. “Mkay, Rafey.”

“‘m sorry, angel. I know.” He murmured, giving you a sympathetic look as you continued to roll your hips on top of his.

You didn’t respond, leaning down to press your glossy lips to his. He instantly kissed you back, tongue gliding against yours as the passionate, rough, neediness for each other soon returned.

His hips pounded you from underneath, his hands holding your waist as you moaned and mewled into his mouth. The poor couch creaked under the sharp movements, but neither one of you cared.

“Can feel that tight lil pussy squeezin’ me… g’nna cum f’me?” He murmured into your mouth, his own orgasm approaching.

All you could do was nod and squeak a bit, that little brain of yours growing fuzzy. But before you realized it, his evil hand moved to the soft skin of your lower belly and gently pushed.

The sensation instantly had you trembling, your body squirting as you moaned loudly on top of him. “R-Rafe!”

He cursed, one last thrust before he was releasing deep into your cunt.

tags: @jensenacklesballsack @vcnillafairy @svdwlover @angeldiaryy @amterasuu @iyuhni @ethereacals @blushmimi @sweetgoldwoman @sailurmewn @sparkleyprincessa @hpboysslut2707 @ryomensgirll @writtenbyhollywood @glittervame @sweetstrawberrianne @theoraekenslover

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marsdql · 14 hours ago

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heyy, it's me 💗

can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make a Jay version of enhypen babying the reader and can it be a little longer too? i hope it's not too much

thankyou so much 💗

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Here you go and I also tagged you in the niki btw! Thank you for requesting and I’m sorry it took so long, I saw all your msgs don’t worry! >.< sorry i had to make jay cringe I js had to.

The members were lounging in the dorm living room, a lazy afternoon filled with snacks and half-watched variety shows. You were curled up on the end of the couch, legs tucked under you, quietly giggling at something on your phone. Your oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves covering your hands as you tapped away.

Jay was sitting nearby, pretending to be interested in the show, but he couldn’t stop glancing at you. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed, the way your eyes lit up, the quiet hum you did when you were comfy. His heart was not just full—it was overflowing.

Then you looked up at him with those big eyes and gave him the tiniest smile.

That was it.

“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, standing up suddenly.

“Hyung?” Sunghoon blinked up at him. “You okay?”

But Jay didn’t answer. He crossed the room in two strides, scooped you up bridal-style with absolutely no warning, and sat back down with you cradled in his lap like a giant teddy bear.

You squeaked. “Jay! What—?!”

He buried his face into your shoulder, squeezing you tighter. “My baby’s jus’ too cute. I can’t handle it no more,” he mumbled against your skin, voice dropping into the softest baby-talk. “Look at you, all tiny n’ squishy in this hoodie. You tryna kill me, huh? You doin’ it on purpose?”

You flushed, face warm, and the members froze.

“Hyung…” Jungwon looked both amused and horrified. “Are you—baby talking?”

Jay just grinned, completely shameless. “She’s my baby. You guys can deal with it.”

You tried to hide your face in his chest, embarrassed but secretly loving it.

“Aww, no hiding,” he teased, gently cupping your face and nuzzling your nose. “Lemme see that pretty face. My precious girl. Mwah.”

Sunoo groaned. “Okay, we’re leaving. This is gross. Adorable, but gross.”

Jay just chuckled and held you tighter. “She started it by being cute. I’m just reacting.”

You mumbled something unintelligible against his hoodie.

“What was that, baby?” he cooed again, full baby-talk mode now, rubbing your back.

“I said… stop being so extra,” you muttered, though your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging.

Jay smirked and whispered just for you, “Not my fault you drive me crazy, darling. Mine forever, yeah?”

You’d barely stepped out the dorm when Jay started.

“Watch your step, tiny one,” he said in a ridiculous fake-deep voice, holding your hand like you were about to cross a dangerous battlefield instead of a cracked sidewalk.

You side-eyed him. “Don’t start.”

He grinned, unfazed. “Sorry, sorry. You’re just so small. So delicate. So petite. So fragile. So kawaii. So in need of my constant protection.”

You stopped walking. “Jay.”

“Yes, my baby mushroom pumpkin spice latte sugar baby?”

You groaned. Loudly. “I’m going back inside.”

He cackled, grabbing your hand again before you could turn. « Okay, okay! I’ll stop. Just needed to get it out of my system. » « You’re unbelievable. »

“You’re still holding my hand,” he pointed out, smug.

You didn’t respond. He knew he was right.

The ice cream shop was a quick walk away, tucked into the corner of the block. Inside, he let you choose while he stood behind you, way too close, leaning down just enough to speak near your ear.

“Don’t take too long. You’ll overthink the sprinkles.”

You ignored him, picking your usual. He paid, of course, and handed yours over with a smirk. “For the sleepy menace who pretends to hate me.”

Back at the dorm, you flopped onto the couch, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands and digging into the cup like your life depended on it. Jay sprawled next to you, one arm over the back of the couch. “You’re not mad, right?”

You gave him a flat look. Then, without a word, you slid lower into the cushions, head falling back. “Why are you so much sometimes?”

Jay just laughed. Loudly. “Oh my god, you’re crashing out. You’re done.”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

“You’re like a toddler after sugar. Just shutting down.”

You didn’t answer, just blinked slowly at him, expression blank. He leaned in, brushing your hair out of your face, amusement still tugging at his mouth. But his voice dropped a notch.

“You done pouting now, love?”

You blinked again, slower this time.

And something in him shifted.

He took the empty cup from your hand, set it on the table, then leaned back and tugged you into his chest. His voice changed — low, warm, steady.

“There she is,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “Always act tough ‘til you get tired. Then you melt.”

You didn’t say anything, but the way you curled against him gave you away.

Jay’s hand dragged slowly down your back, stopping at your waist, thumb pressing into the soft spot there.

“You gonna be good now?” he asked, voice near your ear, quiet and serious this time. “No more eye rolls?”

You let out a muffled hum.

“That’s what I thought.” His hand tilted your chin up gently. “You know I only tease ‘cause I like watching you get mad, right?” You tried to look annoyed, but your body betrayed you — relaxed against him, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled, but this time it was low. “Mm. Too tired to sass me now, huh? Thought so.” He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ve got you.” And he did—one arm wrapped firm around your waist, holding you close like you weren’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

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chadobi · 3 days ago

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Lonely Together

Bayverse Raphael x Reader

The Lair was buzzing with life tonight or at least, Raphael’s version of “buzzing,” which meant Mikey was yelling about pizza toppings, Donnie was arguing with himself over a glitch in his latest gadget, and Leo was being, well, Leo. In the middle of it all, like always, you were there. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, arms loosely draped over your knees, watching the chaos unfold with that same tired smile you always wore.

Raph noticed it more than he cared to admit.

You were around a lot. Practically every night for the past few months, even when nothing exciting was going on. You’d sneak down to the Lair through April’s shop with a casual “Hey,” act like part of the furniture, and never ask for anything in return. No expectations, no drama. Just quiet company. That should’ve made sense to him, considering how private you were, but something about your presence always made him… wonder.

Why were you here so often?

Why weren’t you with friends? Family? Someone?

Raphael wasn’t exactly the king of social intuition, but he wasn’t blind either.

So tonight, when the pizza boxes started emptying and the volume in the Lair lowered to a comfortable hum, he found himself watching you again from across the room, elbow braced on the kitchen counter, half a slice of pepperoni pizza forgotten in his hand.

You were just sitting there with your eyes slightly unfocused, your gaze somewhere in the soft flicker of the TV, a mug of lukewarm tea cupped between your palms.

And that same tired smile.

Raph didn’t know what made him move, but he did. Quiet steps, bare feet against tile. No one noticed they were too busy arguing about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

He sank onto the couch beside you, letting out a grunt as he got comfortable.

You blinked and turned toward him slowly, as if startled from some far-off thought.

“Oh. Hey,” you murmured, smiling again.

Raph tilted his head. “You ever don’t say that when you see me?”

You snorted. “Well, I don’t usually have a lot of time to think of clever greetings when a six-foot mutant turtle just appears beside me.”

“Touché,” he muttered with a smirk.

A short silence fell between you, comfortable, if a little tentative. You looked down at your mug. Raph watched your fingers as they played with the rim.

He cleared his throat. “So uh… you ever hang out anywhere else but here?”

You looked up, surprised. “What?”

He shrugged. “Just… noticed you’re always around lately.”

“Oh.” You looked back down. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

There was something in your tone that didn’t sit right with him.

“Not that I mind,” he added quickly. “S’just… you got friends or somethin’? People your age usually do, right?”

You laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh he liked hearing from you. It was short. Dry. Almost bitter.

“I used to,” you said quietly.

That wasn’t the answer he expected.

“…Used to?”

You shifted in your seat and stared at the TV for a few seconds before sighing. “Yeah. I had this group of friends. We were super close. Like… sisters.”

He didn’t interrupt, just watched your profile as you talked.

“We did everything together. Sleepovers, birthdays, vacations. They were my whole world.” You let out a short exhale. “Then stuff started to change. I didn’t even notice it at first. One of them would ‘forget’ to invite me to something. Another would borrow my clothes and never return them. Little digs, you know? At first, I thought I was being sensitive.”

Raph frowned. “You weren’t.”

You smiled faintly, not looking at him. “Eventually, they just… dropped me. Like I was nothing. After years of being ‘sisters.’ I asked why. They said I was too ‘emotional,’ too ‘needy,’ that I made everything about me. But I wasn’t, Raph. I swear I wasn’t.”

Your voice cracked slightly, and he stiffened beside you.

You took a shaky breath and forced a smile. “So, yeah. I’m around here a lot because this is the one place I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells. With you guys… it’s different.”

Raphael didn’t answer right away.

He felt a strange twist in his gut. Not anger — not exactly. But something deeper. Something bitter and ancient and all-too-familiar.

“…They sound like assholes,” he said eventually.

You let out a surprised laugh, genuine this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “they kind of were.”

Another pause. This one stretched a little longer. The sound of Mikey singing badly in the background filled the space between you.

Then, Raph shifted. His voice dropped.

“I get it, y’know.”

You turned to him.

“Get what?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Feelin’ like that. Like… you’re too much. Or not enough. Or both, somehow.”

There was something raw in his voice now. Something that made your breath hitch a little.

“I mean,” he continued, staring down at his own hands, “look at me. I’m literally built different. Too big, too angry, too much muscle, not enough brain.” He chuckled dryly. “People always act like I’m supposed to be the ‘tough one,’ but… I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I’m the most breakable one. Just… in different ways.”

You watched him in silence, heart tugging hard in your chest.

He shifted again, slower this time.

“When I get mad, people leave. When I don’t talk, people assume I’m fine. When I do talk, they think I’m scary.” His jaw tensed. “Ain’t really much middle ground.”

You set your mug down gently and turned fully toward him. The light from the TV caught on the edge of his shell, outlining him in silver.

“Raph,” you said softly, “you’re not too much.”

He blinked. Slowly looked up at you.

“And you’re not scary. You’re protective. You feel deeply. And that’s not a flaw. It’s… rare.”

He didn’t say anything, but something in his shoulders loosened.

You smiled gently. “I think that’s why I like being around you. With you, I don’t have to pretend.”

Raph swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Me too.”

The air between you suddenly felt warmer. Closer.

You looked at each other for a long time. Something passed unspoken. Not quite romantic, not quite platonic. Just something real.

Raph let out a soft grunt. “Y’know… bein’ alone sucks.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really does.”

“…But bein’ lonely with someone else?” He looked at you with something vulnerable in his eyes. “That don’t suck so much.”

You felt your throat tighten, but you smiled anyway.

“No,” you whispered. “No, it really doesn’t.”

There was a moment of stillness, like the world around you had gone quiet, like you and Raph were the only two people in it. You both sat there, neither moving, neither speaking and yet, something between you shifted permanently in that space.

The silence wasn’t lonely anymore.

Raph glanced at you again, almost shyly.

“You uh… wanna stay a bit longer?”

You nudged your shoulder into his gently.

“I was already planning on it.”

⸻

You were curled up beside him on the couch. Mikey had long since passed out on the floor, and Donnie had retreated to his lab. Even Leo had disappeared to his room with a book and a sigh of peace.

But you and Raph remained.

The TV flickered silently now, muted, casting soft shadows across the Lair.

You were half-asleep, your head resting lightly against Raph’s shoulder, his arm stretched along the back of the couch like a quiet guard.

For once, he didn’t feel like too much.

And for once, you didn’t feel like not enough.

And together, just like that the loneliness began to fade.

Not because it was fixed.

But because you weren’t carrying it alone anymore.

————-

Hey there! I hope you’re all doing well! The topic of this one-shot is quite heavy, but I wanted to talk about it.

I was a bit inspired by events from my own life, because I’ve needed to pour my emotions into writing for a while now.

If you’re feeling lonely, remember that no matter what, you’re not alone in this.

Someone who truly deserves you will come into your life eventually 🩷

Enjoy reading!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt raphael #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse raphael #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt bay raph #tmnt bayverse raph x reader #tmnt bayverse x you #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse raph #tmnt bayverse oneshot #tmnt raph 2014 #tmnt raph x reader

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francislangdon · 3 days ago

Note

omg. if you have the time. we decide to play a game of chicken together which leads to one thing or another AU

“I think Dr. Langdon is flirting with me.”

Samira turns from her charting, scanning Mel’s face before shaking her head and starting to type again.

“He’s not,” Samira says, “He’s married, Mel. He talks about his wife all the time.”

“Not to me,” Mel mutters. “I’m pretty sure he is.”

“You’re probably misreading the signals.”

“I…” Mel stutters. She has been known to do that. That’s why she wanted to bring it up to Samira. “…Guess you’re right.”

Married men don’t flirt with women who aren’t their wives. Mel knows this the same way she knows everyone waits until they’re twenty one to start drinking.

Langdon swings by their desks then, she can sense him coming. A weight hits her shoulders and it’s his hands gripping onto her, solid. Mel tilts her head up into his body, resting against his chest.

“Hey, babe, you wanna take a look at the guy in North 5 with me?”

“What happened to him?”

“Mandolin accident. Guess how many fingers he lost.”

“Most people just lose one.”

“Most people,” he agrees ruefully, “But guess how many this guy lost.”

“Three?”

“Cut the fingertips off of all five, sweetheart.”

Mel winces.

He pulls her up out of the chair. “Over under three that we can reattach?”

Samira pipes up, “Under.”

“Someone’s a pessimist. What do you think, baby?” He’s standing so close his chest is touching her back.

Mel tries to catch Samira’s eye, but she’s disinterested, focused on the computer. “Um, over? I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” he pushes her towards the hall.

“I know where North 5 is.”

His hand stays on her back. “I know.”

“I think Dr. Langdon is flirting with me.”

Collins continues to stitch the laceration on their patient’s leg, but her eyebrows raise in a way that Mel can tell means she’s paying attention. “Why would you say that?”

“Um, he’s been calling me terms of endearment. And he touches me a lot? More than normal, I think. Oh, and he brought me breakfast this morning. It looked homemade.”

“Langdon’s pretty impulsive. He probably gave you his leftovers.”

“What about the touching?”

“Yes, he’s very tactile. Like a big puppy, really.”

“Is he tactile with you?”

“Ha! Not likely.”

Mel’s brow furrows.

“Dr. Langdon is married, anyway.”

“I know that.”

“You’re a great doctor, Mel, one of our best residents.”

“Thank you.”

“He’s just playing favorites. Robby does that too, sometimes.”

“…You don’t think there’s any reason I’m his favorite?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Mel says awkwardly.

The curtain to the room opens then, Langdon’s head popping up. He winks at her. “What do we have here?”

She shifts uncomfortably, wondering if he heard their conversation before he walked in.

“Belligerent drunk,” Collins says, “Had to knock him out so I could suture him.”

“And it seems like you’re doing a fine job. Can I steal Mel?”

Collins hands her over without a second thought. “Go ahead.”

“Great.” Langdon tugs Mel out of the room by the wrist.

“What did you need me for, Dr. Langdon?”

He shrugs, “Dunno yet. Let’s go find something interesting.”

“I think Dr. Langdon is flirting with me.”

Robby slowly closes the drawer he’d been digging in, a packet of nicotine gum halfway to his mouth. Mel had caught him in between cases. He’s a good teacher, albeit very hands off. Mel’s spent a latent chunk of her shift trying to catch up to him.

“Okay…?” Robby trails off.

Mel’s hands flex. “Do you…”

This is embarrassing.

“Do you think that he is?”

“Flirting with you?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Mel wants the ground to swallow her.

“Langdon’s been on his best behavior since coming back.”

It’s true. He’s sharper now than he was before, she thinks, more attuned to the needs of the ED. Robby has been trying to wrangle him back into his role as the heir apparent.

“I think he was smelling my hair the other day? It was hard to tell. We were talking by the lockers and he just leaned in.“

“Langdon would never be inappropriate with any of our residents. He knows better than that.”

“I’m not accusing him of anything I just—”

“Good. If he’s not bothering you then we have nothing further to discuss,” Robby houses a few pieces of gum and shoves the rest back in the drawer. “C’mon Dr. King, we’ve got patients waiting.”

Mel takes the dismissal.

She shuffles over by the board to see what needs done, but Langdon’s standing by the ambulance doors, waiting for something to come in.

“Mel! Motorcycle accident coming in five. You in?”

She can never refuse him.

“Attagirl,” Langdon grins. He slaps her ass and gestures to a trauma room, “Go get gowned up, baby.”

Mel jumps at the impact, blushing, stealing a few glances back at him as she goes to follow his directions.

“Dr. Langdon?”

He pulls himself away from her lips, “Yeah, Mel?”

“Have you been flirting with me?”

“Little bit.”

He retracts his thigh out from between her legs. There’s a wet spot where she’s been grinding on it.

“Honestly, I thought you’d chicken out before we got here.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Mel says, lips kiss-swollen. She glances at the obvious erection in his pants.

“I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

“I’m not good at social cues.”

“Ah,” Langdon says, “Alright, let me be more direct.”

He shoves her up against the wall again, kissing her intently, the press of his hard length into her thigh undeniable.

#mel doesn’t know the rules to chicken but she’s winning i think #kingdon #langdonmel #the pitt fanfiction #mailbox

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rafesyangel · 3 days ago

Text

What happens when rafe comes home a little mad today ? :(

You laid up on your stomach , love island playing in the background on your ipad bored out of your mind

Until The keys jangled, followed by the door slamming a little too hard. You barely had time to sit up before you heard heavy boots across the floor.

Rafe stormed in, jaw clenched, phone in one hand ,shirt half untucked like he’d wrestled it off in frustration.

“Jesus Christ, today was a nightmare,” he muttered, tossing his shirt on the floor, His eyes landed on you laid out in a big shirt, legs kicked up, innocently looking up at him

You gave him a soft smile. “Welcome back, babe.”

But he didn’t smile back or doesn't say anything at first. Just stands there, breathing heavy. Pissed

You turned your head slowly, “Bad day?”

He drags a hand across his face and walks toward the bed, not answering until he’s standing right at your side. "I don’t wanna talk about it," he mutters, eyes dropping to where your legs are peeking out from the blanket.

He stood at the edge of the bed, chest rising fast. “You know what I really need right now?”

You raised a brow, half-teasing. “A shower? A nap? Therapy?”

His eyes darkened. “No. I need you. Your body. Right now.”

Before you could reply, He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you a shadow in motion ,he leaned down and grabbed your thigh, dragging you toward the edge of the bed. His hands were firm almost too firm —but you didn’t stop him. You gasped as he manhandled you onto your back, hovering above

His lips crashed onto yours, rough and rushed, like he was trying to exhale the frustration of the day into your mouth, One hand slid up your shirt, the other gripping your waist, his fingertips digging in a little too hard

Your moans start coming louder, breathier

not on purpose, not for show, just from how badly you want him. Every time Rafe moves, you move with him, hips bucking, hands clutching at his arms, face, neck like you’re just as desperate as he is

And it's driving him insane

You're not staying still , gasping, tugging at him like you’ll fall apart if he doesn’t give you more.

“Baby” he growls, voice caught somewhere between a plea and a warning. “You keep movin’ like that, I swear to God”

You don’t stop.

Your body slick with heat and tension His hands dig into your waist, trying to hold you still but you roll again, pressing up into him, whimpering

“Rafe, more oh…please, I need—”

And that’s when he snaps

His hand flies up fast, too fast and cracks across your cheek. Not a light tap. A real, heated slap

It echoes.

The room goes quiet for a second, both of you shocked, His eyes go wide, like the sound yanked him out of whatever tunnel vision he was in. “Shit baby I didn’t—”

But your head turns slowly back to face him, pupils blown, lips parted

You blink

Then smile

“…Do it again.”

Rafe stares at you, mouth slightly open, and something dark and hungry crawls up from his chest.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, grabbing your face again gentler this time, but only for a moment.

He kisses you hard. Rough. Possessive

His gaze dropped to your lips. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Harder.”

His smirk was slow and dangerous. “You sure you know what you're asking?” “You think I’ve got it in me to be gentle tonight?” he growled, his voice all gravel and need

You whimpered in his ear more every touch felt like heaven

“God, you like that?” he muttered, almost in disbelief, rutting his hips against you through your underwear. “You like when I forget how to be soft?”

You bit your lip, nodding

“YesyesyesRafe, I want all of it….Just take it out on me.”

A/N : am i self projecting? Yes i am

#rafe cameron x original female character #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe x you

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grapejuice32 · 3 days ago

Note

rafe using a vibrator on angel!reader in public?

if you’ve already done this then i apologise 😭

angel!reader x Rafe

warnings: use of vibrator in public, edging, mentions of p in v

a/n: thank you for the ask, I'm sorry its been so long since I updated

The vibrator was nestled inside of you comfortably, vibrating at a low, steady pace. It had been since the moment you got to the beach. It was only when other people started to join the two of you that he subtly went on his phone to turn up the speed. The sudden increase cause you to jolt, your jaw clenching as your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, trying not to make a sound that would give you away.

You were sat between Rafe’s legs, your back pressed against his bare chest, a smug smirk on his face as he felt the way your body stiffened. He’d been dragging this out all day, your body incredibly sensitive as he was still yet to let you cum.

Apparently, it was only when he was conversing with his friends that he decided to finally let you fall over the edge. The vibrations were turned to the max, your teeth digging so hard into your lip that you were surprised you hadn’t broken the skin. It took everything in you not to move too much, your nails digging into his knees to stop yourself from trembling.

Rafe only briefly paused speaking to press a kiss to your temple, murmuring “ ‘s okay, baby,” against your skin, and you knew that was your sign to let go. Your toes curled into the sand as you turned, pressing your face into his neck and biting down on his shoulder as you came. If the others noticed, they didn’t comment on it, not that you cared as he finally stopped the vibrations from the toy inside of you.

It didn’t last long though, barely enough time for you to properly catch your breath before it started up again, the vibrations slow and steady not enough to push you over the edge again, but just enough to have you fidgeting in his lap. You couldn’t help the small whine that you produced, you froze as it sounded, worried if the others heard, but Rafe only chuckled, “Everythin’ okay, angel?”

You only nodded, burying your face further into the crook of his neck as he fiddled with his phone, the intensity of the vibrations turning up ever so slightly. He hummed, running a hand through your hair as he turned back to his friends, leaving you a mess in his lap where you remained for the rest of the day until he took you home and fucked you slowly, your legs around his waist as he pressed gentle kisses to your flushed cheeks until you were a crying, shaking mess.

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jacksonsturniolo · 2 days ago

Text

“attitude”

warnings — nick having attitude, jasper a brat tamer fr, smut, like rough sex, gay sex, so sexy, angst kinda?, fluff at the end, that’s it.

a/n — how me and him would be if we were tg tbh

Nick had been testing him all day.

Snapping back with sharp little remarks, rolling his eyes, acting like he didn’t care — like he couldn’t be touched. Pacing around the apartment with that clipped tone, brushing Jasper off when he tried to check in, that subtle smirk on his face like he was waiting for Jasper to break.

And maybe he was.

Because by the time Nick muttered, “What, gonna pout again?” — Jasper didn’t answer.

He didn’t say a word.

He just crossed the room, grabbed Nick’s wrist, and manhandled him toward the bedroom so fast the smirk dropped right off his face.

“Jasper—” Nick started, breath catching.

“Nope,” Jasper growled. “You wanna act like that? Fine. I’ll give you something to be smart about.”

Before Nick could get another word out, Jasper had him face down on the mattress, shirt pushed up, pants yanked halfway down — leaving him exposed, caught in that sharp mix of anticipation and regret.

Nick squirmed, looking back over his shoulder. “You’re mad.”

“I’m done with the backtalk,” Jasper muttered, kneeling behind him, one firm hand planted on his lower back to keep him still. “You think I won’t handle it when you push me?”

Nick swallowed hard, voice wobbling now. “…I didn’t mean—”

“Too late for that.” Jasper leaned down, breath hot against Nick’s ear. “You wanted my attention. Now you have all of it.”

Nick shivered beneath him, suddenly quiet.

Jasper dragged his fingers slowly down Nick’s spine, tracing the line from his shoulders to the waistband of his boxers. “Face down,” he said, low and commanding. “Ass up. Don’t move unless I tell you.”

Nick’s breath stuttered, hips arching up ever so slightly.

Jasper smirked. “That’s more like it.”

He settled behind him, fingers digging into Nick’s waist, not to hurt — just enough to remind him who was in charge now. His voice stayed low, firm, in control.

“Every time you open that mouth to sass me, I’ll make you beg twice as long to come. You understand me?”

Nick whimpered. “Yes.”

“Say it louder.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There he is,” Jasper murmured, dragging his palm down the curve of Nick’s back. “Now be good for me.”

Nick was trembling now.

Not from fear — from tension. From that exact dizzying mix Jasper knew he craved. That place where he didn’t have to think, only feel.

Jasper leaned over him, dragging his lips down the nape of Nick’s neck, not kissing — just hovering. Breathing. Letting Nick feel the weight of his presence.

“You always talk big,” Jasper whispered, voice like gravel and heat, “but the second I put you where you belong, you go all soft on me.”

Nick’s hands clutched the sheets, knuckles white. “Jasper…”

“Mmm. Not so cocky now, are you?” Jasper slid a hand beneath him, just enough pressure to make Nick gasp and arch. “All that attitude just to get me here.”

Nick let out a sound between a whimper and a plea.

Jasper grabbed his wrists, pulled them behind his back gently but firmly, holding them there with one hand. His other hand was slow, deliberate — tracing circles along the back of Nick’s thigh, his hip, the curve of his waist. Never giving him what he needed. Just showing him who was in charge.

“You want me to ruin you, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing Nick’s ear. “You want me to take it from you?” He paused for a second “want me to take that attitude away..hm?”

Nick nodded quickly. “Please.”

Jasper growled, deep and low, biting softly into Nick’s shoulder. “Then stop moving.”

He shifted his hips forward, grinding against him through the thin layers left between them — not enough to satisfy, just enough to drive Nick insane.

Nick was squirming now, moaning softly, practically begging under his breath.

Jasper chuckled. “That’s right. You’ll take what I give you. And when I’m done, you’ll be so spent you won’t even remember why you had an attitude in the first place.”

Nick gasped, barely coherent now.

Jasper tightened his hold on Nick’s wrists, voice dark and low.

“Be still, pretty thing. We’re not even close to done.”

Nick flinched slightly when he felt Jasper’s fingers curl around the waistband of his boxers.

“Still mouthing off now?” Jasper murmured low, lips brushing the shell of Nick’s ear as he leaned forward.

Nick’s breath caught, face buried in the mattress. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.”

Slowly, deliberately, Jasper tugged the fabric down, baring Nick inch by inch — not fast, not rough. Just slow enough to make him feel every moment of it. Nick’s breath came faster, thighs tense, his whole body taut with anticipation.

The cool air hit his skin and he let out a soft, helpless sound.

Jasper smoothed a hand over the newly exposed skin, steady and firm, voice dark and quiet. “Look at you now. Not so tough when I’ve got you like this.”

In one swift motion, Jasper yanked his sweats and boxers down, his length springing free and slapping against his lower stomach with a sharp, heated sound.

He reached over, grabbed the bottle of lube, and poured some into his palm — the cool slickness Jasper slightly hissed as he spread it over his length, then down to nicks ass, pressing it gently against his clenching hole.

Jasper’s tip pressed right against Nick’s entrance, teasing and barely there — just enough to make the boy beneath him squirm. Nick let out a soft, desperate whine into the pillow, and Jasper leaned down, voice low and rough.

“You think you deserve it, huh?”

Before Nick could even beg, Jasper thrust in all at once — burying himself to the hilt. The words caught in Nick’s throat, replaced by a strangled moan as his back arched and his fingers twisted in the sheets.

Jasper didn’t give Nick a second to adjust — he set a brutal pace from the start, snapping his hips forward with force. Each thrust slammed into him, driving Nick forward on the mattress with every harsh collision of skin, the sound obscene, relentless, and leaving him gasping.

Jasper’s grip tightened on Nick’s hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a reminder. His voice came rough, breathless against the back of Nick’s neck

“Still got that smart mouth now, baby?”

Nick tried — he really did — but all that came out was a breathy, broken sound. He opened his mouth, one hand fumbling for the pillow like it might anchor him.

“I—”

“Yeah?” Jasper snapped his hips forward again, sharp and precise. “Didn’t think so.”

Nick let out a whine, face buried in the sheets, his voice cracking as he managed, “Y-you’re s-such a—”

Jasper cut him off with another deep thrust, forcing the rest of the sentence to dissolve into a moan.

“Finish that,” Jasper growled, dragging his nails down Nick’s side. “Go on. Call me something else. I dare you.”

Nick was trembling now, legs weak, voice barely a whisper.

“Didn’t mean it…”

Jasper leaned down, lips brushing over his spine, tone rough but full of lust.

“No, you did. And now you’re taking it like you were made for this.”

Nick was barely holding on.

Every thrust knocked the air from his lungs, every rough drag of Jasper’s hips pushing him deeper into the sheets, unraveling him. His arms had given out long ago, forehead pressed to the mattress, mouth parted and gasping.

And Jasper didn’t let up.

“Gonna come like this?” he rasped, voice dark with possession. “Face down, all used up, not even talking anymore?”

Nick whimpered, his only answer.

Jasper’s pace faltered just for a second — just enough to press in deeper, his hand sliding up Nick’s back, grounding him. “You feel what you do to me, baby? How tight you are, how good?”

Nick cried out at that, hips trembling beneath the weight of Jasper’s thrusts.

“Touch yourself,” Jasper ordered, low and close to his ear now. “Come for me.”

Nick reached down with a shaking hand, and it only took a few strokes. His body tensed, legs curling in as his release overtook him — choking on a moan, his mind blurring out into white noise and heat.

The moment Nick clenched around him, Jasper broke.

His hands gripped tighter, breath hitching into a growl as he buried himself deep one final time, stuttering through the waves that hit him. His entire body shuddered, pressing flush against Nick’s back, like he had to stay there — like leaving him now wasn’t an option.

They were both gasping, sweaty and tangled and silent except for the sound of their breathing and the faint creak of the mattress underneath.

After a beat, Jasper reached up, brushing the hair from Nick’s face and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his spine.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Nick, still catching his breath, nodded against the sheets.

“Mhm. I’m… I’m good. You ruined me.”

Jasper smiled.

“Yeah. But you asked for it.”

taglist— @grace-sturnz @kier-with-a-k @urloveanaa @bernardsbendystraws @princesspinkkk23 @urfavvbilliemunch @emely9274 @nessabarrettswhore @oopsiedaisydeer @thenickgirl @nickssidewitch @queenbreana @chriss-slut @rriverscuomo @conspiracy-ash @lezleeferguson-120 @etherealsturns @tezzzzzzzz @httpssturns @cupidsfawn @nicksfrenchtoast

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chara-cat5 · 1 day ago

Text

lads isekai ch 3

reader is gender neutral, warning: swearing, mdni

chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

adjusting to life here was hard. the technology was way higher tech then you were used to and you were forced to act like you knew what was going on 24/7. like, you had to learn all the futuristic vocabulary for this world. even with the help from your memory of the game, you still had a lot to learn. history, vocab, technology. at least you knew how to add...

but you did adjust with time. within a week you could do everything you needed to on your own. you even cooked a few meals for you and mia. socially, you could fall into easy conversation with mia and tara or do serious reports for jenna. the three women were easy to get along with. mia had this special draw though. a force you could only assume was just pure main character energy. you wanted to be around her. you were starting to wonder if it was you or something else.

training your evol was another problem. you had been putting it off, but there was alway this buzzing of power under your skin and you would have to take care of it or you'd explode. maybe. thats what if felt like anyway. control over plant life. it hadn't done anything like that first night. the growing under your feet or blooming cuffs around you and mia's wrists. you mentioned it to mia that you wanted to do some training and that's how you ended up here.

sweaty, aching, and frustrated.

you glared at mia as she paced around you, holding her sword at her side, looking just as perfect as she did at the start. she frowned at you, her eyebrows pinched together.

"did you eat something bad? usually you are way better then this. you haven't even used your evol."

you let out a groan, shifting your grip on the polearm in your hands. apparently it had been your weapon of choice, but you figured it was just cause it wasn't one of the 'taken' weapons by the love interests. you narrowed your eyes at mia, shifting your stance.

"i'm just having an off day, lay off."

ignoring her sassy response, you closed your eyes, digging into the buzzing under your skin. it wasn't unpleasant necessarily, but it was building a pressure beneath the surface. it grew into a full vibration and as soon as you slammed your spear butt hit the ground, plants forced through the concrete ground. a jagged line of vines and flowers went straight for mia, leaving her to yelp and attempt to dodge. you cried out in panic, blinking and she was gone, a scuffing of shoes to your right drawing your attention instead, drowning you in relief. there a tall blond was just unwrapping his arms from mia, a cold feeling running through you at his glare though...

"jesus! remind me to never piss you off again."

mia jogged over, her hair and expression frazzled. looking back to your 'attack' you saw the uncontrolled growth. geez, were you really that strong?? you felt a wave of exhaustion hit you, quickly realizing, hey no, you just used all your energy on one attack. not over powerful, just uncontrolled.

"how did you even become a hunter?"

your shoulders stiffened at the deeper voice, meeting blue eyes. he had followed mia, his guard clearly raised. mia, the great friend she is, shot him a glare, poking his shoulder.

"how did you become a hunter? don't be rude, xavier."

you glanced at the plants, lifting your spear from the vines.

"... no, he's right. this is pretty bad..."

mia let out a sound of distress, looking back to you. xavier merely kept his gaze on your face, expression unreadable.

"i don't have control over it and that needs to change. i'll focus on solo training, mia. i don't wanna put you in danger again."

you finally met her gaze, a pout already rising to her lips.

"you said it yourself, it's just an off day. i'm fine. you don't have to shut yourself out."

xavier scoffed next to her, narrowing his eyes at you.

"you're fine cause i stepped in. but as for you, training on your own isn't gonna fix this. you need teaching. from the basics."

he stepped back, turning his back to the two of you to leave the room. mia perked up, grabbing his arm before he could get far.

"you should teach them!"

you both stiffened at that, blinking at her like she had grown another head. mia just turned to you, completely unbothered.

"xavier would be a great teacher for you. he helped me with my sword skills and his evol is also really strong. he'd totally be able to help you get back your grove if you won't let me help."

you made a face, but before you could argue, xavier spoke up. great! you wouldn't have to hurt mia's feelings. you really didn't want to deal with her pouting back at the apartment.

"you want me to train them?"

she nodded happily, squeezing his arm with her hand and tugging him closer.

"yeah! it'll be great."

you huffed, shifting on your feet as you waited for his rejection.

"... alright. i can train them."

you snapped your gaze back up, shock filling your expression. what? why? what?-

"wait really? you're gonna train me???"

he looked to you, his expression still unreadable.

"i will. it shouldn't be difficult. i've heard you're decent."

you made a sour face at 'decent' following the budding lovers out the room. mia was already thanking him and chattering on about ideas. he happily listened, that small smile on his lips he reserved for the mc. this was gonna be a thing now, wasn't it?

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

it was a thing.

xavier was a cruel trainer, making you run drills over and over again. okay, maybe that was dramatic, but still! you felt exhausted after a few days. he had you fix your fighting stance, teaching you the proper way to use a spear, no evol involved. then, without a directing weapon (aka, your spear) he'd have you focus on the energy of your evol. one plant. he made you grow and focus all your energy on one little daisy. grow more and he made you drain your energy then try again. that wasn't helping with you being exhausted at all.

"slacking off isn't gonna help you get better."

"i'm not slacking off, i'm connecting with my roots."

you were laid on your back on the ground with your eyes closed, limbs sprawled out like a starfish (fuck off with 'sea stars'-) rafayel would be proud of. xavier let out a sigh, standing over you with his arms crossed. with a sigh, he sat next to you, making you peek open one eye.

"then do it properly. sit up and focus."

with a groan, you did as he said, sitting criss cross facing to him and mimicking his pose. you couldn't help but take in his features, noting just how long his lashes were against pale cheeks. despite how short with you he had been thus far, he was being helpful. you were learning better control over your evol and even fighting stuff. power of having mia as your roomie, i guess.

a slight snort brought you out of your thoughts, focusing back on xavier. he wasn't moving, eyes still closed and yet...

"did you fall asleep?"

his lack of response was a dead give away and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. and he had scolded you for slacking off. you reached out and poked his shoulder, causing his eyes to flicker back open.

"hey, wake up. you can go home if you're that tired. you can't just sleep here."

he sighed, rolling his shoulder out.

"why not? i've done it before."

"that doesn't make it alright. what if someone else wants to train? or if someone sneaks up and steals your stuff?"

"i would wake up before anyone got close to me."

you made a face, tilting your head as you gazed at him. he stared back before standing up, pulling out his sword.

"let's get back to training."

entity [user] encounter entity [xavier]

affinity level [3]

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

taglist: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @plzdonutpercieveme @young-adult-summer @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @asakiyu @leftpoetrymoon @hon3yydew @anemobabygirl

thank you so much for reading!! (seriously, y'all are bringing out so much motivation with each comment!! i read every one!! i'm sorry i don't respond, i just don't know how T-T just know i appreciate it!!)

-chara <3

#lads #lads mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads caleb #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads xavier #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #lads zayne

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ckret2 · 12 hours ago

Text

Chapter 97 of the fic that's usually about Bill but isn't this week: a flashback to the childhood of... Melody!!! Also: a couple demons at their 9-to-5 (pm to am) job.

"Have you met my best friend?" Prisma the Fairy asked sweetly, her big blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight, a hand on a pink unicorn's back. Three curious human children who stood a head taller than Prisma exchanged innocent glances and shook their heads. Prisma ran her fingers through the unicorn's mane, a shimmery white that matched her own uneven haircut. "This is Glory the Unicorn! We do everything together! I go wherever she goes."

Glory added, "And where she goes, I go."

"Honey," Melody's mother called from the kitchen, "are you ready to leave? We want to get to Hoo-Ha's before your party guests get there!"

"Just a second!" Melody checked her birthday outfit: a rainbow skirt she'd gotten at the mall that sorta looked like Prisma's (albeit less impressive), a white shirt with almost enough glitter to look fairy-like, a set of fairy wings her dad had helped her make out of coat hangers and white tights. She pulled on her new light-up sneakers and laced them up as slowly as possible, eyes glued on the screen.

"You said that ten minutes ago! What's taking—" Her mom walked into the room, sighed in exasperation, and said, "Color Critters again? Melody, you've watched these tapes a hundred times."

"Nooo, this one's new! The library just got it!"

"Have you seen it before?"

Melody paused. "Yes."

"You can watch it again after your birthday party, okay?" To Melody's despair, her mom stopped the VCR.

She was immediately distracted from her grief by the doorbell. "I'll get it!" She charged for the door, one shoe still untied, and then had to wait by the door until her mom caught up and unlocked it. "Aunt Carol!"

"Hey, birthday girl!" Carol knelt down to hug Melody, awkwardly maneuvering a gift bag to avoid hitting her with it. "Happy sixth birthday! And look at you, are you Prisma?"

"Yes!" Melody said, delighted that somebody had finally recognized her.

"Well, that's just perfect." She winked conspiratorially, although Melody wasn't sure what the alleged conspiracy was. "I think you'll like your birthday gift." She offered over the gift bag.

"Can I open it now?!" Melody took it and eagerly pulled the tissue paper out.

Her mom winced. "Honey, no, let's wait until the party—"

"Oh, it's fine. She can open family gifts and friend gifts separately," Carol said. "Sorry it's not in a box, it's vintage from the 80s. I had to dig it out of grandma's attic and wash it."

Melody's hand latched on to something soft. She pulled out a faded pink unicorn with a big smile, and let out a squeal of excitement. "Gloryyy!"

"Oooh." Melody's mom grimaced as she galloped around the room with the doll between her legs, pretending to ride a unicorn across the sky. "Oh-kay, honey, let's take it to the car, dad's already waiting outside."

Melody charged outside and, instead of heading to the car, started doing laps around the lawn, her sneakers flashing every time she hit the grass.

Quietly, her mom asked, "Carol, are you sure about that? Didn't Mom have to take that doll away because it gave you nightmares? I've been nervous just to let her watch the show."

Carol snorted. "Come on, everything gave us nightmares as kids. And it wasn't the unicorn that did it, it was the creepy bad guys—you know, the serpent and spiders and wasps and that smog guy—"

"He's not a wasp!" Melody declared as she galloped past. "He's a bee! And he's a good guy!"

"Well, okay," Carol said. "All I know is I'm still scared of wasps." To her sister, she said, "But Melody doesn't have nightmares, right? Not like ours, anyway."

"No," Melody's mom said, watching her daughter cavort. "Not yet."

####

When Melody woke in the middle of the night, she wasn't thinking about Color Critters, or the gifts from her friends, or the song she'd gotten stuck in her head from Hoo-Ha's Jamboree, or even all the pizza and cake that her dad had said would keep her awake all night.

She was thinking about how heavy her blanket was—so heavy she couldn't move.

Streetlights shone a nauseating amber through the venetian blinds, striping the wall and ceiling. Her limbs churned with a thick, sluggish miasma, charged with a strange energy that prickled her skin from the inside out. She was sinking into the bed—the bed was too soft and her blankets were too heavy, and as hard as she struggled she couldn't lift her limbs out of the pillowy quicksand. It was hard to breathe. She tried to scream for help before her blankets could crush the air out of her lungs completely.

Her mouth wouldn't open. Her tongue was leaden and limp. All she could move was her eyes.

It reminded her of that episode of Color Critters she'd been watching earlier, where the Duke of Smog captured the human kids by locking them in a smoky room until their limbs turned gray and heavy, the lethargy traveling up their arms and legs to their torsos, up their necks, over their mouths, until finally it weighed down their eyelids and minds.

Until Prisma and the Critters charged in and saved them, of course. But Melody didn't know if Prisma was coming for her. They'd never met. Would Prisma know she was in trouble?

Would Glory?

The smog hadn't weighed down her eyes yet. They rolled around frantically until they latched onto the doll on the pillow beside her, its fuzzy pink hide faded to gray in the darkness.

And then she saw the shadow behind the doll.

Her first instinctive thought was the Duke of Smog—but no, he wasn't near as scary. He was a floating black cloud with spooky red eyes—but you could see the cloud. You saw the grays and purples of its plumes and the wispy tail trailing behind; you saw where the yellow pupils of his eyes were looking. The thing standing beside her bed was something worse. The blackest thing she'd ever seen, blacker than the time the power had gone out at night when she'd been in the bathroom and had screamed in the dark until her parents rescued her with a flashlight. It was the silhouette of a human, shorter than an adult, taller than her—and its eyes were two red pinpricks of dark hateful light, glaring down at her helpless form.

It slowly reached for her face with a hand that spasmed and contracted as it got closer, as if it was so eager to dig into the skin of her pudgy cheeks that it kept trying to claw her too soon.

But at the last second, its gaze and hand jerked down—it didn't want her. It was after something else.

Its long fingers closed around Glory the Unicorn's neck.

Melody sat bolt upright with a gasp like she was surfacing from nearly drowning—and then she let out a piercing shriek. "MOMMY! DADDY!"

As the hall light flipped on and flooded the edges of her door, she looked where the shadow had stood. Nothing was there. Nothing was touching Glory. She grabbed the unicorn and dragged it into the safety of her arms.

"Melody?! What's wrong?!"

Melody squinted as her bedroom light flared on; by the time she could crack her eyes open, her mom was sitting on one side of the bed and her dad on the other, looking at her worriedly. Gasping to get her words out—she hadn't realized she'd started crying—she said, "There was a—There was a—a shadow person in my room, and it tried to get me, and, and I couldn't move, and—"

"Ohhh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. Come here." Her mother gathered her into her arms and whispered to her dad, "Sleep paralysis." He sighed in resignation.

"Wh... what's...?" Melody sniffled.

"Sleep paralysis. Your aunt and I get it too. So does grandma," her mom said. "It's a kind of nightmare."

Melody immediately tensed up. "It wasn't a nightmare! I already woke up, it was real!"

"I know honey, I know. You're right. You were awake." Her mom explained calmly and carefully, as if she'd been preparing to give this explanation for a long time. "It's a special kind of nightmare you get when your brain is awake, but your body isn't. That's why your body can't move and your eyes see scary things in your bedroom.

"But it's still just a nightmare. And nightmares are your body's way of telling you that something's upsetting you in the real world. Like a fire alarm—it's scary to get your attention."

Melody couldn't think of anything going on in the real world that was half as upsetting as that shadow. "What—what made me have it?"

Her dad said, "Well—we don't always know right away. We'll have to play detective to figure out where the bad dream came from. That's what we do whenever mommy has sleep paralysis. And once we figure it out, we make it go away."

"Do you get them a lot?"

"Well, I..." Her mom looked at her dad. "Sometimes I get them at random—but I think the last time I got them regularly was when I was pregnant with Melody, wasn't it?"

Her dad shrugged, "That's the last time you mentioned them to me. You didn't get any sleep the third trimester."

Voice small and worried, on the verge of bursting into tears again, Melody asked, "You were scared of having me?"

"Oh!" Her mom laughed. "No, sweetie, no. We were so excited to have you." Her mom dropped her voice to a whisper. "You know what it was? I think I was worried about whether I'd be a good enough mommy."

Melody tried to give her mom a watery smile. "I think you're a great mommy."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Her mom hugged her. After a moment, she tipped her head toward Melody's dad sitting forlorn on the other side of the bed and whispered, "Pss."

"And you're a great daddy!" Melody flung her arms around him.

He chuckled. "Thanks, sugar. And you're a great daughter." He kissed her forehead. "Now, you should try to get some sleep. Do you want to sleep in our room tonight?"

"Uh-uh." Her dad snored and the bed was too cramped. She was fine now. Wasn't she?

When her parents had flipped off the light, she asked, voice small, "Will the shadow come back tonight?"

Her parents exchanged a look. Finally, her mom said, "Probably not, sweetie. But, if it does, just close your eyes, breathe slowly, and try to wiggle your toes until your body wakes up, okay? That's the best way to get out of it."

"Okay."

As her dad shut the door, he murmured, "I guess she didn't break your 'family curse.'"

"I was about the same age when it started," her mom sighed. "I'll call her pediatrician on Monday..."

Then they shut the door.

And as soon as she was alone in the dark, the warm glow of her parents' love leeched out of her skin, and she knew in her gut that no talk of great mommies and great daddies and toe-wiggling and eye-shutting would protect her if the sleep paralysis shadow came for her again.

She stared at the corner where she'd seen the living nightmare until she fell asleep again.

####

"Did you get back to sleep last night, honey?"

Melody blinked tiredly up at her mom. She had laid Glory on the kitchen table and was using her back as a pillow. "Yeah." She yawned.

"The shadow didn't come back, did it?"

Without lifting her face from Glory's back, Melody shook her head.

Her mom glanced at her dad, who was making breakfast. Her mom said, "Your father and I were talking about what might have caused your nightmare. It's not that cartoon that's scaring you, is it?"

Alarm bells went off in Melody's head. She remembered her mom and Aunt Carol talking yesterday—saying that grandma had taken away her aunt's doll because it gave her nightmares. "No!" She sat bolt upright, squeezing Glory in her arms. "It was a shadow! Glory kept me safe!" Which wasn't strictly true, but Glory had certainly distracted the shadow. Glory wasn't making it worse, at any rate.

"Okay, but you promise you'd tell me if it was the cartoon, right?"

Melody nodded emphatically. "It wasn't! It was probably the pizza and cake."

Her dad snorted. "It probably was," he said. "We shouldn't have let her have a second pizza slice. I don't know how she fit it all in her little tummy!" He tickled Melody's belly.

She laughed. "Stooop!" She poked her dad's chin with Glory's spongy horn, grinning.

He set down her breakfast plate in front of her. "Well, no pizza tonight. And we'll see if that solves the problem."

"If not," her mom said, "We'll start looking at other things."

####

No pizza did not solve the problem.

She woke in the middle of the night on her back, her arms pinned at her sides by the impossibly heavy blanket. The air was thick with an invisible malevolence. Something in here hated her very much. Something in here wanted to hurt her.

She had to roll her eyeballs to the limits of their sockets to see the foot of her bed. That side of her room was dark—but not so dark she couldn't clearly see the even darker shadows standing in front of her, pits of blackness sunken into space. Tonight, there were two. One looked like the shadow she'd seen last night—the featureless silhouette halfway between child and adult height. The second shadow was shaped like a man taller than her father, its red pinprick eyes peering out from beneath the brim of one of those hats that the bad guy in the stranger danger posters at school always wore.

The hat man stayed in the back, next to the wall, while the other shadow slunk forward. It moved with a jerky, uneven gait, as if with each step it was learning how to walk like a human and forgot again before it took the next step. The closer it got, the lower it sank, until it disappeared at the foot of her bed.

She held her breath, trying not to meet the hat man's unwavering, hateful eyes, as she stared at the foot of her bed—waiting for the other shadow to reappear. She knew it would.

Something slithered up onto the bed.

It wasn't the shadow. It was a massive snake, a mangy mane like a horse's running from its football-sized head down a third the length of its body, the original color of its scales obscured by a wrinkly layer of half-shed skin stuck to its hide and the dusty grime coating it, washing it out into a hazy indistinct greyish color.

Serpent Grey.

The monster from the videos in the children's section of the library wound its way up her bed, inch by slow inch, cutting a path across her ankles, and then another going the other way across her knees. She remembered, belatedly, that she was supposed to be wiggling her toes; she couldn't bring herself to try. She felt like if she made the slightest move, the beast making its way up her body would attack it.

This horror was so much worse than the smug, color-hating, petty troublemaker in Color Critters. The cartoon Serpent Grey was more common bully than supernatural fiend: he was an arrogant, self-important braggart who wasn't half as smart as he thought he was; he had whiny voice with a goofy, lispy hiss that rose into a funny shriek when Prisma showed up to stop his schemes or the Duke found out he'd failed; and the most nefarious thing he'd ever done was steal Sunny Cat's mail so she'd think her pen pal didn't want to talk to her anymore.

She didn't think there was anything goofy about this beast's rasping, diseased-sounding breath. Melody could smell a sour stench like spoiled milk leeching out from beneath its sagging, unshed skin. There was something unreal about the presence, but not like a cartoon: every inch of its dirty hair and soiled scales and hateful grimace was rendered in such hyperrealistic detail that the snake seemed to stand out against the blurred background of Melody's dark bedroom. The unreality was in the jerky way it moved, too slow and then too fast, freezing then jolting forward like the footage on a damaged tape. It moved the same way as the first shadow.

She didn't dare drag her gaze away from the snake; but she could still feel feel the glare of the second shadow.

Whatever the thing twitching and writhing its way up her body had in mind for her, Melody didn't think it was any mischief as mild as stealing her mail. She tried to will her heart to beat less loudly, for fear Serpent Grey would drag off her covers and sink its fangs straight into her chest to rip it out.

Halfway up her torso, it finally stopped coming closer, and instead dragged the rest of its heavy body onto the bed to coil over her legs and belly. It was heavier than her leaden blanket, heavier than the dread pooling thickly in her lungs. Its head reared up, slowly, until it towered over her as hig as she'd be if she were standing on her mattress, glowering down at her with sneering animalistic wrath. And then, with no warning, its dove with unhinged jaw and extended fangs toward her face.

She flinched so hard that the spasm kicked her blankets halfway off her bed. She jolted upright, fists swinging. Her eyes flew open and rolled in a panic around the room; there was no sign of Serpent Grey or the hat man. Just Glory the Unicorn, laying with her sweet stuffed smile on top of her covers. Relief washed over her. She opened her mouth to scream for her parents—

—and the scream died in her throat. What if mom took Glory away?

She snatched up the doll, dove under the covers, and wrapped the blankets tight around them both, protecting them from any more attacks that night.

####

"Mommy, can we get crystals?"

Melody's mom gave her a puzzled look. "What kind of crystals, honey?"

Melody considered the question deeply, kicking her feet against the living room couch and looking down at the Glory doll by her side as if it could help her. Finally, contemplatively, she said, "The white kind."

"Why do you want crystals?"

"Because—" Melody took a deep breath, "Prisma has them and when she's fighting the bad guys, Glory, she helps her with the magic, because her horn, and the magic goes to Prisma's wand, and it makes a rainbow like—like—" She pantomimed the effect of Prisma's crystal prism wand refracting the white magic beam from Glory's horn into a rainbow. She did this by holding her hands out in front of her like a zombie and saying "Pshooo!"

"O—okay, sweetie, I understand," her mom lied. "But... why do you need crystals to fight bad guys?"

Melody paused. She'd have to tread carefully. "In case the shadows come back," she said.

"The shadows?" Her mom took in her slack expression and the bags under her eyes, and asked, "That cartoon hasn't been giving you nightmares, has it?"

"No!" Melody shook her head emphatically, trying to push the vision of Serpent Grey's gaping hungry maw from her mind before her mom could somehow detect the image and Melody's lie. "I'm just—scared it'll come back! Glory isn't giving me nightmares, she's protecting me from them!" And that, Melody believed with all her heart. Glory had been right by Melody's shoulder during Serpent Grey's whole attack. Who knew how much worse it could have been if Glory hadn't been there!

Maybe she couldn't really protect Melody. Serpent Grey had been so real, and Glory was just a bit of fabric and cotton.

But if there was anything, anything that could protect Melody, it was Glory. And crystals would probably help.

####

"This isn't working," the hat man hissed. He was pacing—stalking, really—back and forth behind the living room couch, his breath visibly puffing in the mindscape's desaturated air, cold mist swirling around his ankles and the hem of his coat. His beady red eyes glowered at the top of Melody's head. "She's more attached to that doll than ever."

"I did what you said," the lesser sleep paralysis demon croaked. It was sitting sulkily on the ground, with what passed for its legs contorted into a pose that might loosely be called "crossed." "You said it worked on her aunt."

"Her aunt told her mother about her cartoon nightmares and her mother took away the doll," the hat man said. "I didn't expect the maiden to lie."

The lesser demon grumbled, "Television nightmares are stupid, anyway."

"Watch your attitude. More humans are terrified of their own horror movies by the day. Television nightmares are the way of the future."

The lesser demon muttered something disparaging.

The hat man gave it a disapproving glare. He stopped pacing, looming over the oblivious Melody. "Under the circumstances, we should speak to an expert."

The lesser demon's shoulders slumped and head drooped poutily. "The hag?"

"No. This isn't the time for half measures. This job is important enough to warrant a call to the top hat man."

The lesser demon's spine shot straight up with an audible click. Its glowing eyes sparkled with eagerness. "Really? We can visit?"

The hat man skulked out of the room, and the lesser demon scrabbled to catch up, following him into a hazy gray hall in the nowhere land behind reality. "We can call. We can only hope he'll make time to see us," the hat man cautioned. "He's still engaged in his research to combine dreams and reality. He's no doubt busy with important business of his own."

####

Bill squinted blearily across the ping pong table at the four plastic red cups on Teeth's side, holding the ball cradled in his index finger with his thumb behind it like he was preparing to shoot a marble. "Moving your cups around like that is cheating," Bill griped. "Make 'em hold still or I'm sending you to the dungeon for cheating. Normal dungeon, not the fungeon."

Teeth spread his hands helplessly. "I'm not moving them, boss. They're just sitting there."

"Oh," Bill said. "Okay, no problem, I—" He braced himself on the table with an elbow and a whole arm. "—I got this—whoa!" He scrambled to catch a cup he'd bumped into, and missed. "Shoot. Somebody refill that." His eye rolled out of his tongue's way to let him lick a streak of glowing liquid off the table before it started peeling the paint.

"Rules say you've gotta have all your elbows behind the edge of the table when you throw," 8-Ball said. "If you can't keep your elbows off, you've gotta forfeit."

"No, I'm good, 'm good."

"Come on, Bill, you can't even float straight," Pyronica said. Paci-Fire added, "You have defeated four opponents in single combat in a row. You may retire with your honor intact."

"Nuh-uh, watch this. It'll be cool." Bill turned his back to the table, wobbled unsteadily, flopped back so the top half of his body was laying on the table, and—squinting with his eye rolled up toward his top point—threw the ball from around his base. It bounced once and landed in one of Teeth's cups.

Bill flung his fists in the air. "WOOOO!"

"Oh, come on!" 8-Ball said. "That doesn't count! You're lying on the table!"

"Did my elbow cross?! Did my elbow cross. Which side of the line was my elbow on." He stretched out an arm to twice its normal length to poke 8-Ball in the chest. "It counts."

"Hey, Bill?" Kryptos ducked in through the doorway, discovered the party room was currently upside-down relative to the rest of the Quadrangle of Qonfusion, and inverted himself accordingly. "You're getting a call from earth. 46'\."

"Huh? Who—" Bill tipped off the ping pong table like a cutting board pushed over the edge of a countertop and landed on his face. "Ow." He peeled himself off the floor. "I didn't sense a signal, who is it? Is it one of my human cultists? Follow-up question, are they hot?"

Kryptos decided not to ask what Bill thought qualified a human as "hot." "I think they're dream demons? Hard to tell, they look kinda fuzzy. They're calling from the mindscape, though."

"Dream demons?" Bill floated unsteadily to peer through the doorway around Kryptos. "Oh, oh! Sleep paralysis demons! You shoulda said so!" He muttered under his breath, "These guys adore me."

He smacked Kryptos on the back, said, "Fill in for me with Teeth, wouldja? Thanks, pal!" and ignored Kryptos's protests as he attempted to approached the psychic window open into Dimension 46'\ without drifting from side to side. One hat man standing straight and unmoving framed in the exact center of the window, unnatural in his stillness; one lanky thing of indeterminate gender huddled behind him, unnatural in its twitchiness—probably a juvenile, Bill thought. "Heya, freaks! What can I do you for?"

The hat man dipped his head, his red eyes disappearing behind the invisible brim of his hat. "Your majesty. One of our novices is struggling to complete a job; I was hoping you could offer your wisdom?" The novice in question hunched further behind the hat man's silhouette, hiding completely from Bill except for a painfully-tilted head exposing one eye.

"Oh, a job, huh! You guys usually don't come to for homework help—I take it this is more important than a regular feeding!" (Was Bill slurring? He attempted to blink off a little of the drunkenness and made an effort to sound more put together. "Okay, tell me the problem. What's the goal here, sleep deprivation? Retriggering a trauma? Fear-induced heart attack?"

The hat man said, "Separating a human from a protective charm."

"Magic?"

"No, just psychological protection. A comforting doll."

"Aww," Bill cooed, turning his curved-eye grin on the juvenile and hoping it wasn't too obviously condescending, "is this baby's first job?"

The juvenile hesitated, its staring eye widening from starstruck shock at being addressed; and then it gave Bill a shy, jerky nod.

"Okay, kid. Tell me what you've tried already."

"I've tried, being spooky?" The juvenile spoke the way a scared four-year-old on a training-wheeled bike pedaled: in hesitant, unpracticed stops and starts, muscles unaccustomed to making the unnatural movements. "And grabbing the doll, like I want to take it."

"Riiiight. Okay, and, how did that work out?"

"Um, she, grabbed the doll."

"Got kinda protective when it was threatened, didn't she!"

An uncomfortable twist squirmed up the juvenile's spine and neck. "Y...es."

"What'd you expect to happen!"

"She would, throw the doll away, to make me not come for it again?"

"Uh-huh." This clown did not understand humans and their dolls. What were they teaching kids these days? "Okay, what else?"

"Well, the doll is a character from a... ca-r toon, so, I, turned into one of the villains from the cartoon, and scared her."

"And whyyy did you do that?"

The juvenile peeked up at the hat man for help, and when none came, said, "So, she would associate the show with being scared, and wouldn't like it anymore? Or—or her mother would take the doll."

This clown didn't understand humans and their stories, either. He made himself comfortable—tilting back, legs crossed, hands laced behind himself as though sitting in an invisible seat—and said, "Okay, so tell me. Is the doll one of the villains?"

The juvenile mumbled, "No."

"Is it a hero?"

"Yes."

"And in the cartoon, what do the heroes do when the villains start threatening people."

The juvenile's fidgeting momentarily froze as he gave Bill a blank look. "They... shoot lasers?"

"Do the heroes protect people from the villains?"

"Oh," the juvenile said, voice small. "Yes."

"Uh-huh. And sooo, when the villain starts scaring this kid, who does she think will save her?"

"The... doll?"

"Bingo!" He was such a good teacher. He congratulated himself by summoning up a margarita he'd left in the next room. A moment later he remembered to summon up the margarita glass too.

"So," the juvenile said, "how do I get it away from her?"

"Make her fear the doll! Imitate that character's shape, not the character's enemies!"

"Thought of that first. I cannot. It's taboo."

Bill paused mid-sip. Aha. So that was why they'd called upon the King of Nightmares to take a doll from a rugrat. He lowered his glass. "Well, does this character have any other hero friends in the cartoon?"

Another jerky nod.

"How long can you keep yourself visible to the kid after her sleep paralysis breaks?"

The juvenile hesitated before answering, "Five seconds."

"More than enough time!" Bill floated closer to the window to Earth's mindscape, lowered his voice conspiratorially, and whispered, "Let me teach you a little trick."

####

Melody woke during the night.

She was lying on her side, facing her doll. Relief might have rushed through her at the sight of Glory, if not for the feeling of something cold and sharp and malevolent in the room with her. She tried to reach for Glory and couldn't move.

She could feel it shifting on the bed right behind her.

A pale, slender arm shot over her shoulder, bone-thin fingers reaching for the doll.

####

Melody startled awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright and looking around the room. She couldn't see anything. Nothing there.

Heart pounding, she told herself it was just a dream as she reached for Glory.

The second she placed her hand on the doll, another hand snapped out from underneath her bed and clamped onto her wrist, the grip icy cold and poisonous. Prisma the fairy climbed out from under the bed, limbs too long and moving wrong, bones clacking and snapping, bearing an inhumanly wide grin and jaws that chattered like wind-up teeth and a head twistsing and flailing on its neck and wild bulging eyes whose whites burned bright in the thin light through the blinds.

The fairy lurched in Melody's face and hissed so fast it was almost incoherent, "Haveyoumetmybestfriend?"

Melody shrieked and flung the doll across the room, where it landed on top of a dresser. The vision of Prisma vanished.

It was her dad who came in tonight, yawning as he flipped on the light. "What's wrong, sweetheart? More nightmares?"

"A monster! Was under the bed, and I was awake 'cause I could move, and, she tried to drag me down, and, and—" When her dad sat on the edge of her bed without ensuring his ankles were safe from the monster, Melody tensed and said, "It's real, it's really under there!"

"Okay, okay." He yawned again and knelt next to the bed.

He confirmed there was no longer anything hiding under her bed, and also nothing in her closet, hiding behind her dresser, or in her toy chest, and assured her it was safe to go back to sleep.

"You left your unicorn up here." He picked up Glory. "Do you want to sleep with her?"

Melody hesitated. She could still feel the panic that had shot up her arm like an electric shock when she'd grabbed Glory and Prisma had grabbed her. She shook her head. "She can stay up there."

####

It was still dark when she woke for a second time, once again unable to move. She could feel the wrongness in the air before she even figured out where it was from.

But she had a good guess.

She rolled her eyes toward the dresser.

Prisma crouched atop it, visible from her profile, her head shaking in a blur so fast it was a wonder her head didn't snap off its neck, her shoulders and wings twitching and shaking as if she were suppressing fits of sobbing or silent laughter. Her bony, pallid body was hunched over Glory.

But her head snapped toward Melody; and all at once, she went from too mobile to not mobile enough, as still as a paused video. Melody's breath went still too.

With a bloodthirsty hunger in her big blue eyes, she unfolded all of her limbs and scrabbled on all fours down the dresser and across the floor, lightning fast, straight toward Melody's bed; Melody could see her getting closer by her wings. The eye spots on her wings seemed to stare at her like real eyes.

She squeezed her eyes shut before she had to see the hands grabbing the mattress and the terrible face raising up and those horrible wild staring eyes poking up over the foot of her bed. She felt Prisma lifting her weight onto the bed; she felt the weight shifting across the mattress as Prisma climbed up her body, until the weight pressing on either side of Melody's shoulders pinned her blanket down on her and made her heavy body sink deeper into the mattress, and she knew Prisma must be crouched right over her, staring down at her—

And Melody kept her eyes shut, because there was nothing else she could do. If she regained the power to move, she didn't know it; now, she was holding perfectly still of her own volition, out of sheer terror, as if the slightest shift might cause her to brush against Prisma's dangling hair and confirm she was still there, or provoke the fairy into attacking.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut—but she didn't fall back asleep. The weight never disappeared. She could still feel it settled over her, the bed sinking beneath it. It did not move.

But nevertheless, when she could finally see the morning sun through her eyelids and dared to crack one open, nothing was there.

For several long minutes she stared at the ceiling without moving, paralyzed by terror, sure that Prisma's face would appear over hers again at any moment or that a hand under the sheets would suddenly seize her ankles or dig into her abdomen or wrap around her throat. Finally, she worked up the courage to slowly turn her head one way, then the other. Then to scoot, inch by agonizing inch, to the edge of the bed. And then, after another minute gathering her courage, to slowly lean over the side, heart pounding, and confirm there was nothing on the floor.

Only then did she dare fling off the covers and leap out of bed.

She turned on every light in the room, protected her skin by yanking on the first sweater and pair of long jeans she could find, yanked on her rain boots over her bare, vulnerable feet, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and over her hair for protection. And only then did she feel safe enough to grab Glory, throw her in the back of the closet, and slam the door. If Prisma—or this awful thing with Prisma's skin stretched over its bones—was coming for her "best friend," then she didn't want the doll anywhere that could let Prisma spot Melody.

####

For the next week, every night, she heard scratching from inside the closet. Like a single fingernail, testing the wood—slowly searching the surface of the door for the doorknob.

####

"How are you liking the doll?" Aunt Carol asked.

She'd come over to visit Melody's mom for lunch. Melody had been dreading the question for the past half hour, and her stomach did a little flip. She stared down at her PB&J silently, her appetite gone.

"Melody?" Aunt Carol said. Melody could feel her mom staring at her, too.

Melody swallowed hard, confessed, "I put it in the trash," and immediately started crying from guilt.

She expected her mom and aunt to be angry, but instead her mom said, "Oh, honey, come here," and pulled her into a hug. "Did you have more nightmares?"

Melody nodded and wiped her eyes.

Her mom gave Carol an exasperated look and mouthed, I told you. Aunt Carol mouthed back, sorry.

"What is it about that cartoon that gets in kids' heads?" her mom asked quietly.

Her aunt said, "those bad guys are creepier than they seem at first sight. It sneaks up on you." (Melody shuddered at that particular turn of phrase.) "I'm telling you, those wasps..."

"It wasn't the bad guys," Melody said, voice thick and shaky. "It was..." Somehow, she couldn't quite bring herself to slander Prisma's good name—and who would believe Prisma was a threat? "An evil fairy."

"Well, that tracks," her dad said. He'd gone into the living room to give the rest of them their "girls' time," but was near enough to eavesdrop. "There's all kinds of mythology about evil fairies that kidnap children. Changelings and stuff."

Her mom shushed him. "You'll scare her worse."

"Are there stories about evil unicorns?" Melody asked.

Her dad thought about that. "Not the I've ever heard. I think they're always good. But there might be stories I haven't read, I don't know much about unicorns. I'm partial to elves and dwarves."

Melody turned that over in her head. Perhaps she'd have to look for the myths herself.

####

(We are, at last, moving into the chapters I started writing after TBOB came out—but I plotted this arc beforehand. "sleep paralysis demons get all hero-worshipy over Bill" was part of this plot long before TBOB gave us "every sleep paralysis demon has a picture of me taped in their locker," but you'd better believe I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth.

The allusion to venetian blinds during a creepy scene is only 25% because it's listed as one of Bill's phobias on TINAWDC, and 75% because I was like "what looks creepy in a kid's room at night" and that was high on the list. And I am here to tell you, as the author, from the bottom of my heart, that I am not using the venetian blinds as foreshadowing. I just liked the imagery and couldn't think of an image I liked better. Them looking scary to Melody is in no way related to why Bill has a phobia of them. We're not getting into that. We're NOT getting into that. Do not get into that.

Next chapter we're back to the present day! This was a somewhat odd chapter so I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

#bill cipher #henchmaniacs #melody gravity falls #(<- not in the art but the ENTIRE chapter is about her)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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