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divinedomainn · 3 months ago

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Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small “Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

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timmydraker · 2 months ago

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I made myself sad thinking about Tim being alone at his home when growing up and only having someone to talk to when he went to school and so I decided to make him a cat but because it’s Tim it’s not going to be that simple:

Instead:

Imagine Tim who accidently gets a witches familiar.

It starts when he’s six and his parents flight was delayed so he decides to use the extra time to go find some wild flowers in the backyard forest to bring them. He doesn’t know the space very well but he knows enough to make sure he can always see the manner he lives in and keeps a torch and a few snacks with him just in case.

When he first sees the shadow like figure in the corner of his eye the little boy freaks out but manages to calm down enough to take the dozen flowers he had and start heading back. He feels something watching him all the way home and that night when he looks out his window Dow he swears he see more movement.

He swears to leave it be because lords knows he’s too young to be dealing with ghost and monsters.

But there’s one problem that will never change in regards to Tim Drake: he’s too curious.

Once his parents leave again Tim is back on the border of the forest and calls out a cautious ‘hello?’ Into the small kingdom of trees.

Nothing happens and so the next time he brings an offering in the form of a pile of nuts, a pair of his mums earrings she had thrown in the bin because they were apparently unsightly after the turn of the century, as well as a marshmallow from his very secret and special stash.

The next day he found a four holed button the colour of one of the Aster flowers he had given his parents when he first felt the presence.

He made it into a bracelet and wore it proudly for the next few days before his dad made him take it off before a gala.

Luckily the thing in the forest didn’t seem to take offence and instead he found the charm he had left on his desk safely hanging from his window sill without his input.

Tim brought several gifts for his new mysterious friend, mainly marshmallows and bits of his mums jewlery she was didn’t wear anymore.

Whenever he left nuts or any other kind of food it was never moved, even other sweets and treats stayed where he left them.

It’s a year after this little tradition starts that Tim actually sees the presence that he had been calling ‘Curious’.

It’s from a distance as he’s going through photos of Batman on his window sill, legs tucked up and back pressed against the wooden frame that brackets the window. He looks up periodically to the small pile of marshmallows he’s left on a plate just where the woods start, waiting for them to suddenly vanish before he goes to bed, when he looks up and sees it.

It’s tall, as tall as the trees and cloaked in shadows and darkness, so much so it’d be impossible to miss even if the light of his room wasn’t shining out towards it.

Tim gasps silently but doesn’t look away or feel fear, because something in him just knows that this is his friend. This is Curious.

Instead he finds himself smiling, possibly beaming at the animated dark before him.

Curious doesn’t smile back or wave or anything and yet Tim can feel a relief and happiness that’s second to his own and yet feels like it’s his.

When Tim blinks the shadows have reached out to lift the marshmallows into its veil like form, long fingers that seem twice the amount of a humans curl like spider legs around the surgery sweets and then they are lost in the dark of its form.

Tim goes to sleep that night with excitement and hope in his heart, a burning curiosity in his heart as hundreds of questions and theories rattle his brain, but it’s all unimportant compared to the fact that he has a friend at home.

He has someone to, in a way, live with.

The next morning he wakes to his alarm and a heavy weight on his chest.

Tim opens his eyes to see a fluffy monstrosity of a cat, big golden eyes hidden in light brown and grey fur staring at him with so much knowing and understanding. It’s more than even Ives shows him when Tim brushes off questions about his parents.

He knows just as he did the night before that this is Curious.

His Curious.

He cautiously reached a hand to pat the fur and watches his hand disappear into the soft fur like its quicksand. When a loud purr, slightly echoing like its not quite real, rumbles through the little body Tim beams again and squeezes the feline shape as close as he can.

Curious doesn’t leave Tim’s side very often, only when Tim goes bathroom does he give him space. When Tim starts training to be Robin Curious shifts his body into Tim’s shadow so he can follow without having to deal with Batman’s security rules.

Curious follows Tim when he goes to train with Shiva, when he goes to space with his team, when he goes on his trip around the world to save Bruce, but it’s painful for the little familiar because Tim isn’t actually a witch.

Which means there is no power for Curious to draw from and so it’s unable to help at all.

It can change its form but the only physical contact it can make is with its master, it can’t fight with Tim or defend him when he needs it.

And yet Tim doesn’t mind.

While Curious feels like a failure for being unable to do anything for his master, Tim rewards it all the time. Constantly is he giving it new necklaces for its cat shape and marshmallows when they stay guard all night while he sleeps.

In the face of such powerlessness, Curious vows to find ways to help its Tim.

So, it’s a sentry of a sort. No one can sneak up on Tim Drake or Red Robin, because he will always just know that someone is there. No one ever suspects that it’s his weirdly attached cat or his own shadow alerting him with a soul like connection.

Everyone in the family knows that Tim has a cat, because one time Damian got all mopey at dinner and complained that the stray cat he found around the manner lawns wasn’t being his friend no matter what he did.

He ranted about how he brought it food and water and toys but the unnaturally fluffy cat would just stare at him before running off.

When Tim realises that he means Curious he snorts, making Damian glare at him and demand to know what he finds so funny.

Tim simply makes a ‘sst’ like sound twice and suddenly the big cat his waltzing out from under the table and into Tim’s lap.

Damian is furious but mostly embarrassed, acting like he’s upset that Tim didn’t tell him he had a cat when instead he’s upset that he befriended a cat Damian couldn’t.

Tim explains that Curious has been his cat for years and doesn’t like anyone else, so not to take it personally, and when they ask what the gender is Tim reply’s cryptically, “it doesn’t like gender.”

No one knows what to say to that as Tim leaves the room with the cat in his arms, but they all witness the cat lean over his shoulder and lick a long black tendril over his own face.

Bruce nearly sprains something with how quickly he stands up.

#batfam #dc comics #tim drake #bat family #dc universe #batfamily #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #damian wayne #tim drake angst #tim drake centric #Tim Drake gets a cat #witches familiar #familar #spooky cat

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thesearchforbluejello · 2 years ago

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I am honestly just rendered very much speechless by this week's SNW. Like... I am not sure I have come this close to the exact vibe of M*A*S*H as having this fucking unbelievable gutpunch of an episode between the LD crossover and a musical episode???????????? I don't even know how to unpack this episode honestly. I didn't see it coming at all even given the title. I don't know how to place it between silliness and fun when I know people who are living the reality of what this episode explores, but I think it is something that current audiences sorely need to see.

#however can we please give Ortegas some actual backstory context and not just make her constantly high key xenophobic #spoiler but the fact that they didn't actually tell us if Christine used the serum to get out messed me up a lot #like I think even more than it would have if they actually said #also that was a good captain and XO moment there like they balanced each other out so well #what I found particularly interesting about this episode was that I WANTED to believe that Rah had changed #but I also didn't believe him #one day when I'm not sick as a dog while at a conference (things are going great for me right now) I might talk about #how fucking angry to my goddamn soul I am about them exploring the J'Gal storyline in this way after using that Euromaidan footage #the way that they did in 1x01 #part of Trek's purpose is to explore current and historical events through the lens of science fiction #as much good scifi does #and I think they did that rather well here actually #but I know people who are LIVING. THROUGH. THIS. RIGHT. NOW.#their families and their children are being killed ON PURPOSE and there is no such thing as safe evacuation #and honestly I hope this episode helps people understand exactly what is happening in Ukraine right now because it fucking looks like this #M*A*S*H is an extraordinary cornerstone of television because of the way it brackets horror with comedy #and makes the two inextricably linked to each other existing in symbiosis #this is something Trek has historically done as well in particular with DS9 and the Dominion War #but this was a more brutal bloody look at things they didn't let Trek do in the 90s #and I think that's exactly what we fucking need especially for American audiences to get a fucking clue #that this is still a pale imitation of what war looks like #I was deeply and viscerally upset by this episode and I fucking should be #all of us should be #frankly I think they should do more of this #jo watches snw

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itsabird-itsaplane-nopejustabird · 7 months ago

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DPxDC Prompt

I've had this idea for a while (since seeing that art of Johnny and Kitty robbing a bank so Danny can get Top Surgery lol) but I haven't even had the brain to work on my own fic recently (sorry about that btw) so I'm writing this instead

So the concept:

T4T Johnny and Kitty, who died in the 80s after running away together.

Johnny was the kid of some rich asshole automobile mogul from Bristol, and Kitty was one of the workers' kids from the Narrows. They become friends, fall in love, both realize they're trans around the same time and then decide to run. They know that being trans on top of tax bracket difference gives them almost no chance of making it. Johnny steals a bike and a fuck-ton of money from his parents, and Kitty's parent(s) helps them leave.

They're still toxic and spiteful as hell, but nothing the other does can change the fact that they know and understand each other better than anyone else could.

They travel around the country being menaces together for a while until they decide to settle down in a strange city called Amity Park. They figured it could handle a couple more anomalies. But before they can get there, they get into a bike wreck with their final thoughts being of each other and Johnny specifically cursing his bad luck in life.

The next thing they know, they're in the infinite realms being given the chance to stay together and the freedom to simply exist with no strings attached. (Other than each other cause I firmly believe that they're mutually the others' obsession)

About 20 years have passed, a portal to their old world is permanently open and this scrawny little ass kid ghost that they've never even heard of keeps stopping them from going through it.

It isn't until Johnny actually starts paying attention a few months into it that he notices that first, the little shit can actually fight, and second, HE WAS FIGHTING THEM WITH A BINDER ON. (Johnny also vaguely wonders why Danny looks so much like his old neighbor Brucie, but that's less important than the binder thing). Johnny lets out the universal ghost fight timeout signal and vaguely explains the situation to Danny, who seems confused about the noise he made and why it made him stop.

Johnny gets Kitty to spread the word that if the timeout isn't called off by the next morning, stay TF away until they get an all-clear.

That night, *after yelling at him a bit*, he starts teaching Danny how to reshape his ghost form to his preference and even his vocal cords.

From there, Johnny and Kitty sorta ghost adopt him as a sibling and then take him to Frostbite to make sure his T-shots are ecto compatible.

(I hope this was coherent it's 4am for me and I haven't slept lol)

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc #johnny 13 #kitty dp #t4t #trans danny #tw: unsafe binding #damian and danny are twins #dcxdp #dpxdc

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p1astr81 · 4 months ago

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a dream (p2)

in which: Oscar has a dream. Like a real REM sleep dream. And he may just have found a pathway to make it a reality.

warnings: none! Oscar is still down bad, though.

previous part | next part

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar returned to the cafe the following day. He couldn’t help himself. The girl of his literal dreams was right within his reach.

“Oscar! Hello again. Congrats on getting pole!” You greeted, the usual brightness that outshined the sun.

He chuckled, already feeling the warmth creep up on his face. “Thank you.” He said sheepishly. “I think it was your good luck message that did it.” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could catch them.

Oh god, was that flirting? Were you going to think of him as some creep now?

Oscar’s panic was soothed by your laugh. “Giving me all the credit? How generous of you.” You paused. “But what can I get for you today?”

He hadn’t thought about that. “Uh, just a tea.” It was the first menu item his eyes found. “A green tea. Medium.” He fumbled over himself.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that followed as a result. “I’ll have that done for you in just a minute.”

The “thanks” was caught in Oscar’s throat. It came out as a squeak that didn’t quite reach your ears.

As he did last time, Oscar stood by, taking long glances at you.

Again, you caught his eye, raising the cup a little to insinuate that it’s his, and the pushed it in his direction. “Have a good day,” you smiled.

His thanks was heard this time, and you reciprocated it by widening your smile and giving him a small wave.

Oscar inspected his cup for a message. Sure enough, ‘how about a win today? ;)’ was inked on the white cup in black sharpie.

He did end up winning the race.

۶ৎ

Oscar went back to the cafe the following week. And the week after that. And the one after that. And after that.

And after all those weeks being graced with your small talk, he got greedy.

It was a friday. Practice had already came and went but you were obligated to stay at least three hours after the final session of the day ended.

It was painfully slow. Slower than a usual Friday. Everyone had already gone home, save for the stragglers who were only other McLaren employees.

You were wiping down the counters for the third time that night when an accented voice became your savior from boredom.

“I figured you’d have left already.” You leaned against the counter.

Oscar shrugged. “Just got done with a pre-qualifying meeting. I was going to head back, but I figured you’d still be up here.”

It was strange. You weren’t sure if you could classify your relationship with Oscar as friends, but being friendly was just as weird. He was in a different tax bracket. He was a niche celebrity. A professional athlete.

You were a barista.

“Unfortunately.” You sighed. “I still have,” you checked the clock, “twenty minutes.”

Oscar reacted with raised brows. “Seriously?”

Annoyance radiated from your very being as you rolled you eyes. “Yes. I’ve been watching that stupid television loop yours and Lando’s stupid faces for nearly an hour.” You paused. “No offense.”

He held his hands up. “None taken.”

“You shouldn’t be distracted on the job.” The monotone voice of your boss—the hospitality manager—tore your eyes from Oscars. He stood at the top of the stairs across the room.

You stood straight, backing away from the counter. “Right, sorry.” You called back. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Oscar. “Can I get you anything?”

The change in your tone startled him. It was no longer casual. Rather a fake mask of professionalism. It caused him to stutter with his words. “N-no I’m okay. You have a good night, though.”

You gave him a smile in return, one that failed to reach your eyes.

۶ৎ

Oscar returned to the cafe as soon as he made it to the hospitality the next morning. He would very much appreciate another good luck message.

You greeted him with a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

The lack of small talk threw him off, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not sure.” He considered it for a second. “Just make me your favorite.” It was a ploy to draw the small talk out of you.

It didn’t work. “You got it.” You muttered, fingers tapping away at the screen.

Oscar took up his usual waiting spot, waiting for your smile when you handed him his drink, but that never came. Instead, you called his name. The drink was placed on the pick-up counter, and you busied yourself with the next person.

He took the paper cup in his hand, taking a sip. A drink way too sweet for his liking but he’d drink it anyway. He twisted the cup around to search for your sharpied message.

He frowned. There wasn’t one.

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 x you #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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puck-luck · 3 months ago

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Trevor gives off the vibes where he’d love just being in his girl even if it’s not sexual like they’ll just be sitting there watching tv and before you know it he’s inside of her and they’re just vibing together. I also feel like he’d be so into free use with his girl like he’ll be playing video games and she’ll get off while she uses him or she’ll be laying there reading and he’s just inside of her getting off on his own

4 + 1: Free Use with BF!Trevor

After talking about it, you’ve taken to wearing thongs and an oversized t-shirt around the house. Trevor needs easy access, after all, and you had made a promise.

You’re reading a book on the couch when he gets home from some Ducks event. You’re laying along the length of the cushions on your stomach, knees bent and ankles crossed, kicking your feet in the air aimlessly. The book is propped up against a throw pillow and you’re lazily turning the pages.

When Trevor arrives home, you look up at him. “Hi, baby,” you greet. “Good day?”

He’s the perfect picture cuddly boyfriend, which is why he’d been late getting out of bed for this event in the first place. He hadn’t even had time to change. He’s still wearing those BU sweatpants you love so much and the white hoodie he’d found at the foot of your bed.

Trevor offers you a complacent smile. “It was fine.” He walks over to the couch and pushes your legs down until they’re flat on the cushions. He collapses on top of your back, laying with his head just between your shoulder blades.

You let out a small chuckle, barely more than a puff of breath, and return to your book. You’re being pressed into the cushions by a lot more than gravity now, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to have your boyfriend so close, especially as he’s snaking his hands up the sides of your shirt and tracing your skin.

He kisses your spine. “Can I?” Trevor asks, his voice muffled and pouty against your back. He shifts up on his knees so he can press his hips to your ass.

It’s the first time that Trevor has wanted to do this since you talked about it. Free use. Goosebumps rise on your neck.

“You don’t have to ask,” you remind Trevor, although it’s nice that he did since it’s the first time he’s actually going to use you like this. “‘m all yours, babe.”

Trevor hums proudly at that, pecking your shoulder before pulling away from you entirely. He leans back on his heels and pushes his sweats down.

You look again to your book. You can feel Trevor stroking himself to his full hardness and you bite your bottom lip. You’re wet thinking about how Trevor just wants to be inside of you, to treat you like no more than a hole to be filled when he wants to fill it, but you’re not particularly inclined to participate. That’s the whole point, after all, isn’t it?

He pushes your legs apart, then settles between them. The blunt tip of his cock probes your entrance and sinks into you.

The drag is harsh and it gets harder and harder to read as Trevor becomes more drunk on this feeling. You feign nonchalance.

Trevor grips your hips and drives his cock into your heat over and over and over again. There’s no regard for you, for your pleasure. It’s only about his pleasure and, honestly, that makes you feel good. Trevor’s climax, in this state, means much more to you than your own. As long as he’s feeling good, then you’re happy to be used.

He doesn’t waste time on anything other than chasing his orgasm. You get to hear Trevor in his purest state– this is like fucking his own fist in complete privacy, but instead, he’s fucking into you. You get to hear all of his grunts and groans and puffs of breath and stifled whimpers, all of which he makes when you’re together too, but he likes to make them more manly and sexy when he’s putting on a show for you. Truth be told, you like these better. You like that Trevor can’t stop the stutter of his hips and the keen that escapes his mouth as he starts to shoot off inside of you.

You love how he moves to bracket your ribs with his arms, palms flat on the couch. His hips continue to move as he works through his orgasm, cum dribbling from his tip into your cunt. Trevor’s lips find your neck, your shoulder, your spine… he plants grateful kiss after grateful kiss to your back until his movements slow to pure stillness and Trevor lays against you.

His cock remains inside, acting like a plug to keep the cum from leaking out of you onto the couch. Trevor hooks his nose over your shoulder. “I hope I didn’t disturb your reading,” Trevor mumbles. He takes some of the fabric of your shirt in his mouth, tugging on it. “Couldn’t resist.”

II.

“Hey, babe, c’mere,” Trevor calls from down the hall.

“What, Trev?” you reply. You scrunch your hair in a towel, having just gotten out of the shower a few minutes prior. When he doesn’t reply, you roll your eyes and leave the bathroom, making your way into Trevor’s game room. “What, Trev,” you repeat in a more exasperated voice.

He looks over his shoulder and moves one of his headphones to the side. His face splits into a grin. “Oh, good. Take your towel off and come here.” He spreads his legs, scooting back in his wheely chair so you can fit partially beneath the desk. “I want to use your mouth.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, then shake your head and chuckle. “Really?”

Trevor nods and lifts his hips enticingly.

“Are you going to game while I suck you off?” you ask.

Trevor nods again and smiles wide.

You start to laugh again, walking over to where he sits and putting your hands on his knees. You bend at the waist and peck his lips before sliding to your knees.

Trevor grabs a hairtie from the desk and ties your hair into the world’s most hurried bun. Then, he leans back in his chair and picks up his controller. He puts his headphones back over both ears and resumes his game. He lifts his hips as you start to drag his waistband down.

You lick Trevor’s tip slowly with the flat of your tongue, peeking up through your eyelashes as you do and catching the way the corners of his mouth turn up. His eyes stay on the screen.

The hair on Trevor’s thighs is soft and you pet through it as you slide his cock into your throat. You scratch your nails gently over his skin, closing your eyes and starting to bob your head. Trevor’s cock is thick and tastes slightly salty as precum oozes from his tip and seeps into your warm mouth.

Trevor’s breath is deep and his expression remains mostly unaffected. You aim to change that.

You swallow him down as much as you can. Trevor’s cock flexes with your swallow, filling all the space that you give him. You gag, but force your way down until your lips are wrapped around Trevor’s base. You lift your eyes to his face and find Trevor’s gaze on you, wide smirk on his face.

“Showing off?” Trevor asks knowingly.

Stilted by the cock in your mouth, you shake your head.

“Then fuck your mouth for me, will ya?” Trevor instructs goodnaturedly, nudging you with his foot and grinning at you.

You choke a little bit on Trevor’s cock when you laugh at his words, but you pull off and put your mouth to work.

You lay your hand flat on Trevor’s hip and caress his abdomen with your thumb, bobbing your head up and down. His tip knocks into the back of your throat as you push yourself down, alternating between lathering your tongue over his tip and deepthroating him until you have to pull off and gasp for breath.

Trevor plays on. You can hear the clicking of his controller and the way he’ll let out an annoyed groan whenever something goes wrong on the screen.

You lap at his tip and fit your lips around his crown, sucking softly and flicking the tip of your tongue over his slit, collecting the precum there and begging for more to come out and coat your tongue. You hum and take him down about halfway, drawing your fingers gently up and down the rest of his shaft. You’re barely touching him in this moment, just ghosting over his veins and ridges. When you take him all the way down, you cup his balls and roll them in your palm. When you give them a squeeze, Trevor’s cock jumps in your mouth.

It’s the first physical reaction, beside how hard his length is, that you’ve gotten from Trevor.

You repeat the actions over and over. Trevor’s cock is steadily leaking precum now, the taste filling your mouth, and you can feel his pulse growing more and more rapid on your tongue. You breathe through your nose, choking yourself on Trevor’s length and allowing spit to drip down his cock until he’s positively coated.

Massaging the vein on the underside of Trevor’s cock with the flat your tongue, you swallow around his tip. His cock jerks again, bumping into the roof of your mouth a telltale three, four, five times before pearly white cum shoots down your throat in long, thick threads.

You swallow around him until Trevor is done coming and there’s nothing left in your throat but the aftertaste.

You kneel back on your heels and use the momentum to make your way to your feet, pecking Trevor’s mouth again and heading back to the bathroom to finish your post-shower routine.

III.

You’re wearing Trevor’s pink sweatshirt, the one with Roman numerals on the breastbone, and chopping up vegetables for a pasta sauce. You’ve already got four tomatoes halved and thrown in the blender, plus an onion that you cut into quarters. There are a few cloves of garlic thrown into the blender with those veggies and you’re about to start blending them, once you finish chopping this carrot into fine little pieces. Really, you’re just trying to blend all of your veggies that are about to go bad together so that they don’t go to waste. Even if it tastes like shit, your boyfriend is like a vaccuum when it comes to any kind of food, and he’ll eat as much as you give him.

It’s been a couple of months since you and Trevor started this free use journey and you’ve stopped wearing underwear altogether when you’re around the house. Trevor has ruined a few pairs already, by stretching them out or physically ripping them off of your body due to his lack of patience, and you’d rather not have to buy new underwear every other month.

It’s lucky that you’re wearing nothing, given how Trevor walks in the front door after practice and drops everything where he stands before beelining to you. He presses his face into your hair and breathes in deeply, shoving his hands up the sweatshirt and kneading your boobs.

“Long day?” you ask, chuckling and chopping up the final pieces of carrot before putting the knife to the side. You pick up handful after handful of carrots and toss them in the blender, eventually wiping your hands on the teatowel you’d thrown on the counter after washing the tomatoes.

“The longest,” Trevor replies. One of his hands leaves your chest, retreating to pull his cock out of his pants. He fists the base and rubs his tip against your folds until he’s hard and straining and you’re slick enough for him to press inside.

You’re doing your best to pour a dash of vegetable oil and a bit of heavy cream into the blender so that the vegetables blend more easily, but Trevor has started to thrust against you. The carton of heavy cream slips and you pour way more than you wanted to, but you catch your mistake before the sauce will be too creamy. You close the carton with one hand, using the other to find purchase on the counter and brace yourself for Trevor’s bucking hips.

He notices your stiffness and slips his hand back up to your boob, holding both in his hands and keeping you in place so that you don’t have to. “Sorry, baby, I’ll be quick,” Trevor murmurs with a kiss to the back of your neck. “I needed this.”

“Don’t apologize, Trev,” you say. “You feel good. Take what you need, sweet boy.” You press the button on the blender and the loud whirring fills the room, but you can feel the puffs of Trevor’s breath on your neck and his low moans next to your ear.

He pinches your nipples beneath the sweatshirt and the feeling travels through your body to your pussy, squeezing Trevor tight. He swivels his hips against you, grinding deep before he draws back and starts to pound into you again. His forehead meets your spine. You can practically feel how close he is already, even though it’s only been a few minutes. He just needs a release after a long day and you’re more than willing to offer that to him.

You press your hips back and watch Trevor’s reaction in the glass of the blender. As he throws his head back and furrows his eyebrows, jaw dropping open, his hips drive into you in a slower, harder, more precise way. His body claps against yours and you turn off the blender just as Trevor comes, moaning out loud and flooding your cunt with his seed.

You transfer the blended sauce into the pan on the stove and hit a few buttons, setting it on low heat as Trevor pulls his cock from your pussy and watches the cum drip from your hole. He pushes it back in with his fingers, then guides his softening cock to your entrance and fills you again. He stays behind you like that as the sauce simmers, playing with your boobs and kissing your neck as you dump the strained pasta into the sauce and mix them together.

“That looks good,” Trevor mumbles. He kisses the space right behind your ear. “You’re so good to me.”

You giggle when his breath tickles the shell of your ear, shivering at the sensation. You turn the noodles over in the sauce. “It’s ‘cause I love you,” you tell him.

Trevor brings a hand to your clit, circling his fingers. “Gonna get you back after we eat,” Trevor says. “Make you come a couple of times.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you reply. You reach for the teatowel and hang it over your shoulder. “Now, clean me up and put this in the laundry after, will you?”

IV.

The next time Trevor needs you like that, you’re asleep in bed. He didn’t expect you to be up waiting for him. That’s a honeymoon phase thing– you guys have been dating for a while. You’ve gotten into fights. You’ve been living together for a while now. You both have seen the best and worst parts of each other over time, and you’ve gotten comfortable enough in this relationship that you and Trevor are both perfectly okay with your not waiting up for him after every game.

But after a long east coast roadie, Trevor has been missing you. You look so pretty in his big t-shirt. When he peels back the covers, Trevor sees that it has ridden up to show off your stomach. Like you’ve been expecting him, your legs are spread apart and, as always, you’re not wearing panties.

Trevor smiles. You’re ready for him.

He bends down and kisses your cheek, then moves slowly to the other. He slides into bed with you, having stripped down to his boxers already, and shifts between your legs. He rolls his hips down into your core, his clothed bulge gliding against your folds.

You stir, the hand resting next to your face on the pillow coming up to blearily wipe at your eyes. “Trevor?” you rasp, confused and sleepy.

“Hi, sweetheart, sorry for waking you,” Trevor whispers. He purses his lips and brushes them against yours.

“S’okay,” you reply. “How was the game tonight?”

“It was fine.” Trevor kisses down your neck and brings his fingers to your slit. “I missed you.”

He can feel your cheeks shifting as your lips widen into a smile. “You are such a horny guy,” you tease.

Trevor pushes a finger into your heat, feeling the slide grow easier with each thrust. “Can’t help it when my girl is so pretty,” he says.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Be quick. Wanna cuddle.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist.

Trevor leaves his lips in contact with your cheek as he pulls his finger from your body and fishes his cock out of his boxers, fucking into your pussy at an unhurried pace. You’re so warm and tight; Trevor hasn’t fucked you in days and he knows he won’t last an impressive amount of time. You told him to be quick anyway. Once his pelvis is flush with yours, Trevor breathes in deeply through his nose and kisses down the curve of your neck. He wraps his arms around your middle and splays his fingers across your lower back, lifting you slightly to provide a better angle for your pleasure… although he’s admittedly not aiming to get you off right now.

Trevor rocks forward in aborted movements. Your gummy inner walls hug his cock tightly, rubbing against the nerve endings along his shaft and tip in a way that has him panting in just minutes.

Your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, pushing into his hair. He feels like he can feel your nails scratching his scalp better now that he cut his hair shorter, even though that’s nonsensical. You sigh contentedly in his ear, chest rising and brushing his. “Fill me up, T,” you croon, pulling him even closer with the leg wrapped around his waist. “Know you want to. I’ll keep your cum inside all night and you can fuck me again in the morning. I’ll ride you, hm? How’s that?”

Trevor feels his cock throb, feels his balls grow tighter just before you clench down on him and he shoots off inside of you. Trevor feels like his brain turns to mush as he comes, his limbs loosening and lips smushing against your skin. He lays atop you when his cock is done twitching and leaking, breathing in the smell of your shampoo and soap and the natural smell that is so you. He could fall asleep right here.

You push at his shoulder and insist that he sleeps on his side of the bed rather than on top of you.

Still, Trevor pulls you into his side and falls asleep with his nose against the crown of your head.

You’ve been feeling especially feral today. You’re not sure why, but every time you look at Trevor, a lightning strike travels through your body and the energy settles riiight between your legs.

He’s not even doing anything hot. You’re actually pretty sure you saw him biting his nails earlier and that itch on his nose might have been him digging for gold. You are not sure and you’d looked away so that you could give yourself the benefit of the doubt and convince yourself that, yes, he’d just been itching his nose. Nothing more than that. He’s not that gross. He might be a boy, but he’s not that gross. Surely.

Even if he is a gross, disgusting boy who bites his nails and might pick his nose when he thinks no one is looking… you’re absolutely feral for him today.

Trevor is sitting on the couch watching TV. His legs are spread wide, creating a nice space just for you.

You’re sitting on the other end, torn between scrolling on your phone and staring at your boyfriend. You think you’re caught staring when Trevor’s hand shifts to his lap and covers his cock, the slight bulge of which you could see in his boxer-briefs. Your eyes widen, then your gaze flies to his face.

And Trevor is just staring at the TV. He gives his cock an absentminded squeeze and moves his fingers over his length briefly, then stretches his arm out over the back of the couch.

You suddenly blink to yourself and draw your eyebrows together. Why the fuck are you still turned on by a man who just scratched his balls right in front of you?

You need to get this out of your system or else you’re going to be distracted for the rest of the day. So, for the first time, you approach your boyfriend and straddle his lap, planting yourself on his cock and grinding down.

Trevor is delighted by this turn of events, you can tell by the silly smile on his face. His hands come to your sides and pinch your hips. “Hey, pretty girl,” he greets, his attention now on you rather than the screen.

“Take your cock out,” you command before tugging your shirt over your head and dropping it on the coffee table. “I want you to suck my tits while I fuck myself on it.”

Trevor’s eyes light up and he lifts his hips, shuffling his briefs down until his cock springs free. You can see it reacting to your presence and you wonder, very quickly, if he’s still itchy at all. You stamp the thought down and forget it as soon as it comes, rising up on your knees and lining his cock up with your entrance.

Since you’ve been turned on all day, your pussy has been ready to accept Trevor since the moment you clambered onto his lap. Once aligned, you sink down and take him. You move your hips in figure-eights, gyrating and finding the pleasure you enjoy. When you’re riding Trevor in an effort to make him come, you’ll bounce– but that’s never brought a climax to your body on its own. No, for you, it feels better when you rock your hips and roll your pelvis forward in a scooping motion, punctuated by a series of bounces here and there just to shake things up.

You close your eyes and lean your head back, facing the ceiling in a relaxed pose. You can feel yourself being consumed by the movement of Trevor’s cock inside of you and how it presses against sensitive spot after sensitive spot.

You’re sure if you look down right now, Trevor will be staring at you like he’s looking into the face of God. When you’d first talked about free use, he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want it to just be about him. He spoke at length about how if you wanted to use him, he’d be more than willing. In fact, over the time that you guys have been practicing this newfound kink, Trevor has had to remind you that he wants to be used. You’re finally doing it.

He fulfills your request shortly after you find your groove. His teeth encircle your nipple and tug, his hands wrapping around your back and pulling you closer like he just can’t get enough. He alternates between your breasts, licking and sucking until your nipples are wet, straining, and aching with pleasure.

Your stomach thrums with excitement, clit swollen and making contact with Trevor’s abdomen when you swivel your hips just right. You repeat the motion over and over again until it’s just not enough, snaking a hand between your bodies so that you can rub your fingers over the bundle of nerves in rapid passes. You make a soft noise halfway between a whine and a squeal when the balloon of tension in your gut explodes and forces your eyes, closed as they are, to the back of your head. You swear that if your vision wasn’t black, you’d be able to see the back of your skull with how strong his orgasm is.

Trevor moans against your tits, bucking up twice and spilling into your heat, adding to the mixture of warmth that is coursing through your body and making you feel like jelly. You sag against him and Trevor holds you tight, burying his face between your breasts and kissing your sternum. He stays there for only a moment before kissing a line up your neck to your lips. “Fuck, that was so sexy,” Trevor breathes out. “Let’s do it again.”

i need to write a dom trevor fic soon bc hot so we might see some free use in that too, these were all pretty soft so

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fanfiction #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x you #tz blurb #tz11 #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey smut #anaheim ducks

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himbodruid · 6 months ago

Text

Silent Poem

Zayne returns home to find you fast asleep in his bed. You help each other…relax. 😏

An expansion of Zayne’s Silent Poem Secret Times (some lines removed because try as i might, i couldnt make them fit)

Zayne x Reader

-:- massage leads to other things -:- clothed sex lol -:- body worship Zayne -:- sweet talkin mofo -:-

Fic Master List

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

.𖥔˖⋆ ˚❆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ⋆⁺₊❅. .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆. ݁₊ ⊹ ݁

It was supposed to be a night filled with laughter over dinner, but dusk gave way to twilight in what felt like a handful of seconds. Doctor Zayne had called with his apologies, stating that an emergency surgery had come up and he would be home late. Dinner was packed away to be saved for another time, and you curled up on his sofa with the silly games you thoroughly enjoyed on your phone. You understood how it was. After all, you had to do the same to him several times as well. It didn’t bother you one bit- you would just wait until he got home, embrace him, and usher him off to bed for much-needed rest.

It wasn’t long before you started to nod off and you checked the time, noting that it was nearing midnight. There was no telling when Zayne would be home, but the two of you had shared a bed for some time now. You knew he wouldn’t mind if you slipped between the sheets to take a quick nap before he got home.

You changed into your long night shirt and were lost to the waking world when Zayne snuck into the room. He took light steps until he was at the bedside, peering down at you with softness in his gaze. The glass of water he held was placed quietly on the bedside table and he sat at the edge of the bed. He marveled at your beauty, wondering how he could have ever been so lucky to have someone like you in his life. Lost to these thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed you. Just a gentle brush of his lips against yours while you slept.

You inhaled sharply, startled awake by the unexpected contact. When you opened your eyes, you saw Zayne’s smiling face in the dimmed lamp light and relaxed back into the pillows.

“My apologies. Did I wake you up?”

You smiled lazily at him. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Are you just getting in? It’s so late!”

“Yes. It’s been hectic at the hospital as of late. Every night I had to return home in the middle of the night…you were sleeping so peacefully. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you.”

He leaned over to kiss you softly again, and you chased his lips until you were sitting up in the bed. Worry raced through you when he pulled away and slumped against your shoulder, closing his eyes with a sigh. You observed his face more closely and noticed exhaustion and tension bracketing his mouth and eyes. His arm lazily circled your waist, and your own came around him to embrace him back.

“Zayne?” You asked softly.

“Let me hold you for a bit. This helps me chase away my exhaustion.”

“You should relax more,” you murmured to him.

“Me?” He called you out with that one simple word and you huffed a laugh.

“Alright, we should relax more.”

“But how exactly…will you help me relax?” He lifted his head from your shoulder and stared at you intently with those eyes that held the depth of a forest. You watched as his gaze drifted to your lips and then back up, and you felt a blush spread across your face. What a strange time for shyness to strike, especially since intimacy was not new between you.

You push him away from you a moment so you could escape the covers. Kneeling over him, you started pushing his jacket off his shoulders and began working at his shirt, all while completely ignoring the intense way he watched your chest waving in front of his face.

Once his shirt was loosened enough, you dug your fingers into the muscle that made up the slope of his neck. You remember him telling you it was called the trapezius at some point, and how it was where he carried all of his stress. The moment your fingers dug into that brick wall of a muscle, he let loose a heavy sigh that was nearing a moan.

“Mmmh…massage. I see…” he grumbled with a smile.

“Yes, what else were you thinking?” You raised your brow, continuing to work at his neck and shoulders.

He cleared his throat a little bit and you took note of the blush that stained his ears. He blinked rapidly and looked away in that endearing way he did when embarrassed.

“Ahem. Never mind.”

His muscles finally started to give way to your ministrations, but your own tensed the more you worked at him. The sounds he made had your heart thundering, and you were acutely aware of how close your body was to his and how you still knelt over his lap- not quite straddling him.

He looked up at you, golden-green eyes hooded by barely concealed desire. “My eyes aren’t as tired as they were before. And my neck and shoulders feel so much better.”

“Good, I’m glad,” you said, smiling down at him. You knew your face and neck were red, and it took all of your effort not to run and hide. Your only saving grace was the blush that dusted his cheeks.

“Just sit on me,” he said, noticing how your legs began to shake from the unsustainable position you were in. “It’ll be easier for you.”

You began to decline, but his hands found your hips and suddenly you were straddling him in full. And you became very well aware of the hard length of him pressing against your core.

He moaned at the contact, a breathy sound that shot to your core. “I feel much better already.”

“Y-yeah?” You stammered. His hips rose to grind against yours.

“It’s more effective than the strongest, most soothing medicine in the world.” He kissed you then, an unhurried kind of probing kiss that drew you in the longer your lips held contact.

But then he pulled away, and you could feel the embarrassment at how easily you got lost in him flush through you again. Still, his arms caged you, keeping you close.

“Your lips are dry. Do you want some water?” He reached over and grabbed the glass from the table, presenting it to you.

“How did you know?” You realized you actually were parched. It was always a point of contention- you always seemed to forget to take care of yourself. “I keep forgetting.”

“You haven’t learned to drink it on your own yet?” You chose to ignore his chuckle by carelessly chugging the glass.

“Don’t rush, it’s spilling out,” he said, right as your overeagerness sent a trail down your neck, chest, and into your shirt between your breasts.

“Oh,” you said dumbly. He took the glass from you and put it back on the table.

“Zayne, help me clean it up, do you have a cloth?”

“All right,” he chuckled, pulling away the hand you were using to dab at it. “I’ll help you clean up.”

And then his mouth found where the water trailed at the hollow of your throat, a searing kiss that sent shivers through you. His mouth and tongue followed the water in a blazing trail on your skin, even tugging down the neck of your shirt to get at as much as he could.

“Z-Zayne,” you breathed, unable- or unwilling- to push him away.

“Is this what you wanted?” His question was murmured against your chest between kisses. You watched as his tongue slipped between your breasts with a hissed inhale, your hips grinding against him. His hands trailed up the backs of your thighs, teasing the hem of your shirt. There was nothing else there to halt his touch, save for your underwear, and he inhaled sharply at the realization.

“I knew it,” he breathed, nipping at your collarbone. “You want to do this to me again.”

And then his lips found yours again, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His breath mingled with the soft sounds that escaped you. His hands skirted over your curves to lift your shirt over your head in a swift motion you didn’t even have time to react to. This bared you to him almost fully, the only thing covering you now was the soft cotton of the underwear you wore.

“Now you’re just taking advantage,” you chuckled, capturing his lips again. He smiled against your lips.

“What do you mean-” he began, interrupting his sentence with a kiss to your neck.

“I’m taking-“ another kiss, this one to your collarbone.

“Advantage-“ his mouth found your breast now.

“Of the situation?” His teasing words ended with an open mouth kiss to your other breast.

“Aren’t we just helping each other relax,” he questioned softly against your breast. His eyes locked onto yours as he continued kissing, licking, sucking your breasts. With a groan, he lifted you off of him for the length of time it took for the pair of you to fumble with his belt and pants.

When his cock was finally freed, you palmed and stroked him lazily while he gasped and groaned against your chest. But the control he struggled to maintain came close to snapping when you straddled him again, tugged your underwear aside, and slipped the tip of him just inside of you. His hips jerked involuntarily, slamming upwards into you and a whimpered gasp escaped you.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, unable to put into words that it was quite the opposite. He filled you so well, that you damn near came apart on him with that single thrust. Still, he waited for your body to adjust to him, trembling with the effort.

“It’s been a long time since we last saw each other,” he whispered in your ear. “I missed you.”

Your body shuddered, involuntarily clenching your walls around him. He gasped out a moan, dropping his forehead to your chest while his hips began a slow roll. Your hands gripped at his biceps, fingers digging into him with the same amount of force you used to massage his neck.

“Does this also need to relax?” He said with a sly smile. You couldn’t even muster a response to his teasing. “Of course, I understand you only want to help me feel less fatigued.”

You ended his teasing by lifting from him and easing back down slowly. His breathing came in panting bursts while you rocked your hips against his. You watched his body reacting to yours with pleasured delight, trailing your fingers down his firm chest and into the hills and valleys that made up his abdomen.

“Are you enjoying your massage, Doctor Zayne,” you breathed to him, feeling uncharacteristically bold at the sight of him coming undone beneath you.

“Different muscle groups call for specific massage techniques,” he murmured. “Sometimes…being skillful is what really makes a difference.”

You smiled and resisted rolling your eyes. Still a clinical mind, even while you were impaled on his cock. You set out to make him lose that rational thinking by increasing your pace, taking him deeper and faster. Breathy moans escaped from him and his arms circled your waist to give added leverage as he helped to piston in and out of you.

“I think it’s getting more tense, now,” he murmured, kissing your chest as he nuzzled into you. You knew he was no longer talking about muscles. The lewd sounds of your bodies colliding rose to join the panting moans that permeated the otherwise still air.

“Perhaps…you could add a little more pressure,” he whispered to you before his mouth fell upon your nipples once more. Per his request, you clenched your walls around him as you rode him. With a whining moan, he halted your movements so that he could take over and slam into you from below.

All rational thought was driven from both of you, only this primal need left in its place. You could feel pressure building inside of you as his cock plundered you at an almost punishing speed. Hips collided in a frenzied urge to chase the high of release, breathless moans responding to the pleasure, bodies tensing until finally the pair of you spilled over the edge with cries of ecstasy.

He buried his face against your neck, nuzzling as his body continued to jerk and plunge his cock so impossibly deep inside you. Your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for everything he had to give you. His large hands gripped your hips in a bruising grasp, pushing you so that he remained buried in you to the hilt.

“I wonder,” he panted once his body stopped trembling underneath you. He laid back fully, an arm tucked under his head to prop it up so he could take in the full image of you straddling him, of you impaled on him. “How long were you planning to pull this stunt on me?”

You trailed your hands from his lower abdomen to his chest, leaning your hips forward only so slightly and dropping back down on him. He was still hard inside you, clearly not fully finished with you. “What can I say? I missed you.”

He clenched his eyes closed when you shifted on him, another short moan rising from his chest. “Yes, of course.

“I missed you too.” He punctuated his words by lifting his hips to meet yours.

“Mmmh, how much?” You followed the rocking of his hips, allowing him to pull out slightly before chasing the descent of him to sheath him inside you fully once he settled back against the bed.

He took your hands in his, pulling you so that you laid flat atop him. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, placing his forehead against yours when he pulled away. His hands smoothed up your back, holding you to him.

“Rest in my embrace, just like this,” he murmured to you. His hips lifted again, sinking his cock deep into you again.

“Now-” He kissed your jaw.

“Let me tell you-“ He kissed your neck

“How much I missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” He wrapped his arms around you and began to move.

“Relax,” he murmured to you when you tensed in anticipation. He moved slower now, rolling the two of you so that you were beneath him now. During the transition, he went too deep and you couldn’t help the hiss of pain that you released.

He froze, searching your face for any hint that you wanted to stop. You caressed his flushed cheek, drawing him back down to kiss him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said against your lips. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little, but I'm okay,” you tell him. You move your legs to wrap them around his hips, but he leaves you so that he can quickly shed the rest of his clothing. He rejoined you after removing your underwear, prodding at your entrance but not pushing in. Instead he leaned down to kiss you softly, in hopes to distract you from any pain or discomfort you might still be feeling.

“What about this? Do you feel better now?” His cock breached your slit, but he still wouldn’t fill you in the way you craved and you could feel your patience slipping.

“Or…do you want to change positions?” He stopped the forward tilt of his hips and pulled away to wait for your answer. You grumbled out a sigh, circling your legs around his waist so he couldn’t remove himself.

“Just do it and stop asking questions!”

With that, he settled over you fully, and you reveled in the way the size and weight of him pressed you into the mattress. His mouth captured yours once more and he rolled his hips forward.

The languid pace at which he pressed his hips into yours was almost too much to bear. You wanted to be taken fast, but the feel of him dragging against your walls was only accentuated by how slow he thrust into you. He was all but worshipping your body with his mouth and hands while his hips pressed into yours with every forward lunge.

“So much time has passed now. Don't you want me to say something?” What you wanted was him. To be drowned in him, swept away by the pleasure he elicited with every stroke of his cock. It was almost too much to bear, the sensations surrounding you as he clung to you as fervently as you clung to him. You closed your eyes, listing your chin when his kisses trailed down your throat.

“Tired already? You want to sleep?” His voice was light and teasing but held the hint of a threat in the undertone. You didn’t get a chance to answer before he slammed his hips forward. A pleasured cry escaped you, fingers digging into his flesh.

“We’re not done here. Quitting halfway isn’t something I would do. The night is still young, we have plenty of time to learn from each other,” he grunted, his hips colliding with yours at a brisk pace now. You whimpered beneath him, allowing him to hook his arms under your knees and practically fold you in half. He slammed his cock into you over and over and you tilted your hips to meet his at every thrust.

“Let me hear your voice,” he sighed, and you obeyed him. Once more, the sounds of pleasure mixed with the sounds of your frenzied coupling. His mouth latched onto the slope of your neck and by the time he was done sucking almost violently at that spot, you knew it was going to leave a gnarly mark. The thought of carrying his mark for weeks drove you even closer to the edge.

“Say my name,” he murmured against your skin, hips snapping forward with forceful thrusts as his climax started to build.

“Z-Zayne,” you whimpered. Your nails dug into his back at the guttural moan he released against your neck.

“Again,” he growled.

“Zayne-” His name came out more like a breath, barely recognizable as a word as his pace turned punishing. He was so impossibly deep inside that you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“Again,” he groaned, his body trembling with the beginnings of his orgasm. One final, hard, thrust and he was spilling into you with a guttural cry.

“Zayne!” You all but screamed his name as the pulsing twitch of his cock flooding you sent you over the edge with him. You threw your head back into his pillows, body arching into his as your release shot through you.

His hips jerked and shuddered, his whole body trembling like he wasn’t in control. His eyes were clenched closed, his brows drawn down to crease at the center, while he struggled to regain some form of composure. But the intensity of the pleasure didn’t grant him a single reprieve as his body continued to convulse with moaning cries falling from his lips. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and lock him to you while he rode out the high with you.

“Fuck,” he whimpered against your neck when his body finally relented control back to his mind. He collapsed on you and the pair of you tried to calm your erratic breathing. Soft kisses rained on your skin and you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you when his lips brushed sensitive spots.

When you came down from the pleasured high, he carried you bridal style to the bathroom. He started a shower for the both of you, willingly stepping into the blazing hot water you preferred. He cleaned you with a delicate touch, eliciting shivers as his hands glided over your body. And when he knelt before you to lather your legs with soap, his eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint in them before his mouth latched onto your cunt. He proceeded to turn you into a babbling mess, bringing you to the brink and driving you over the edge with his skilled tongue.

You wiped the self-satisfied smirk off his face when you knelt in front of him to give him the same kind of attention. He stared at you wide-eyed, blushing profusely, as you palmed him and ran your tongue along the underside of his length. Soft moans and curses escaped him as you worked him with your mouth, until he couldn’t take anymore and spilled against your tongue.

Dawn came and went by the time the pair of you tumbled into bed. You were spooned in his embrace, and the warmth of his body against yours lulled you into sleep. You were grateful that it was your weekend, because you didn’t have the will to leave his bed for even one minute.

Not that he would allow it.

#l&ds zayne #dr zayne #zayne x you #doctor zayne #zayne x reader #zayne smut #lnds zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lads fic #lads smut #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds smut #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace

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m00nkissedlover · 3 months ago

Text

・｡Jealousy ✨

You've ordered: a sour grape tart! enjoy!

"A little jealousy~"

Vil Schoenheit x reader | word count: 775 words

Summary: after hearing that you're getting a little close with Neige, Vil can't help but be jealous ✨

Warnings: reader is a member of Ramshackle, but is not yuu. none, fluff!

Note: requested by @linlinmoon. sorry it's so short, i've been really busy lately (T-T) i realized i should have made this a birthday fic after i wrote it ;-; welp- enjoy this vil drabble :D also, no hate to neige, i actually think he's adorable

Vil wasn't usually a jealous person. He'd swear up and down that he didn't get jealous easily and that such things weren't worth his time. Boy...was he wrong.

Ever since you and Vil had started dating, you two were almost always seen together. Whether it was holding hands, walking around the courtyard together, simply chatting after a class, one could always spot you two together. But then, things changed when a certain someone seemed to take up all of your attention. Neige Leblanc.

Vil wasn't sure how exactly you met the Royal Sword Academy student or how he'd somehow become friends with you. You told him you two had met during the Spelldrive tournament that was currently taking place between NRC and RSA. You'd dropped some water bottles you were going to take to Vil and his dorm members, when he'd bumped into you and made you drop the bottles. You were hanging out in Vil's dorm (Epel and Rook were elsewhere) while telling him the story.

"He was very kind and even invited me to visit RSA sometime."

"He did what?!" Vil exclaimed, turning around from his seat in front of his vanity. "You're not actually going to visit that eye sore of a school, are you?"

You frowned at Vil's words, nodding your head and crossing your arms over your chest. "Well yes, I was thinking about going. It seems like a rather beautiful school."

Vil was speechless as he heard you say that, his mouth falling agape. He couldn't believe that you were actually complementing that school full of stuck up snobs!

"Well, you-" Vil was cut off as Epel and Rook made their way inside the dorm, rushing over to Vil.

"The tournament's bout to start!" Epel said, urging for Vil to get up.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he huffed, giving you a glance before leaving with the two.

You were currently at the benches, waiting for Ramshackle's turn to play with Grim at your side. You watched as the teams played, watching the magic disc fly through the air. Pomefiore dorm was currently playing against some team from RSA, but you didn't see Neige playing.

"Come on! When will it be our turn?" Grim groaned, leaning against you.

"Be patient. We're going in order of the bracket, remember?" You reminded your furry companion, gently patting his head as he grumbled.

"Y/n!" You looked up to see none other the Neige making his way over to you, the biggest smile on his face.

"Neige, hey!" You smiled, waving back as he jogged over. "How was your game? Did your team win?"

"Oh, we did great! We're moving on to the semifinals!" he exclaimed as you clapped your hands in congratulation.

The sound of your clapping seemed to have caught Vil's attention. His eye darted over to see you sitting on the bench....talking to-!

"Oh, and that's a point for Royal Sword!" the commentator said, Vil not even realizing he'd missed his chance to defend. RSA was now in the lead, Vil's eyes moving from the scoreboard to you as you mouthed "What happened?!" to him.

"Time out!" Vil yelled, rushing off of the field and grabbing your wrist, dragging you behind the bleachers.

"And Night Raven has called for a time out!" the commentator announced, your expression completely confused and baffled about the whole thing.

"Vil, what happened? Are you not feeling well?" you asked, pressing your hand to his forehead.

Whatever Vil was going to say next immediately left his brain as he felt your warm touch on his forehead. He sighed, reaching up and taking your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, letting his lips linger for a moment.

"Is this about Neige?" That damn name made Vil's grip on your hand a little tighter, a fond smile now forming on your lips.

"Don't worry. He knows we're together, he wouldn't try anything. And even if he did, he's not really my type."

Your words made Vil's face heat up a bit, his heart being put at ease. "I wasn't worried. I know I have a special place in your heart."

You pressed a soft kiss to Vil's cheek, resting your forehead against his. "You know, I wouldn't mind you getting jealous again. It's very cute." you hummed, Vil raising an eyebrow.

"Me? Jealous of him? You're joking, right?" he muttered, playfully pinching your cheek.

You let out a soft yelp, a bit of laughter following soon after. Glancing over Vil's shoulder, you could see Epel and Rook making their way over.

"Alright, alright. Get back out there, Mr. Schoenheit. You've got a Spelldrive tournament to win." ✨

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dreamersworldduh · 4 months ago

Text

BEYOND THE STARS

CONNER KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — After years of being a hero with Conner Kent, your life changes when cosmic nightmares start haunting you. You seek help from Batman and Martian Manhunter, learning that a mysterious force claims you belong to something greater. Though while trying to help you Batman finds something shocking. This news stuns you and Conner, making you consider your future. Before you can process it, a powerful armored enemy attacks you in Happy Harbor.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Violence. Male Pregnancy.

WORDS! 9.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Back with some Conner content and this is going to be a mini-series because I miss writing those. Don’t worry, I have plenty in the works, I’m just long winded. I hope you all enjoy!

NEXT PART! — BEYOND THE PAST

A low breathless moan slipped from your lips as Conner's mouth trailed along the curve of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin. His lips alternated between gentle kisses and heated, open-mouthed sucks, each one leaving behind the faintest hint of a bruise. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching into his touch instinctively.

You were straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips as you both lay tangled in the bed, the dim light casting soft shadows across the room. Conner's back was pressed against the headboard, his broad chest rising and falling beneath you. His hands, strong and possessive, gripped your ass, fingers sinking into your flesh as he guided you down onto him.

A sharp gasp caught in your throat as you felt his length buried deep inside you, stretching you in a way that left your mind hazy with pleasure. The heat of him, the way he fit so perfectly, sent a pulse of pleasure through your core. His grip tightened, and his deep, gravelly voice rumbled against your ear.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured, his hands squeezing just a little harder as if grounding himself in the moment.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle before threading into his dark hair. You tugged gently, and he groaned, his hips shifting slightly beneath you. The movement sent another jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound threatening to spill from your mouth.

But Conner wasn't having that.

"Don't hold back," he said, voice husky, his hands guiding you to move—slow at first, deep, deliberate movements that had your breath hitching. His gaze was locked onto yours, darkened with lust and something deeper, something that made your heart race just as much as the way he filled you.

Every touch, every press of his lips, every whispered word in your ear—it all felt electric, setting every nerve in your body alight. And as you moved together, lost in each other, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in heat, desire, and something that went far beyond just the physical.

Your head tilted back as a pleasure-filled moan tore from your lips, Conner's name spilling from your throat like a prayer. The sound sent a shiver down his spine, his grip on your hips tightening as if he were trying to ground himself—to hold back—but your reaction only spurred him on.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and before you could catch your breath, he thrust deeper into you, filling you completely. The sudden intensity had your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body arching into him as a gasp escaped you, eyes fluttering shut.

"God," you breathed, nails dragging lightly down his back, the heat of him, the sheer fullness making your mind spin.

Conner leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice husky and filled with need. "Say it again," he murmured, the demand laced with something almost desperate.

He pulled back slightly before snapping his hips forward once more, the movement sending another wave of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch. The pressure, the stretch, the way he filled you so perfectly—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Conner," you moaned again, softer this time, but no less pleading.

Conner's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved within you, each deep thrust making your breath hitch. Your moans filled the room, his name tumbling from your lips in broken, pleasure-filled gasps. Every time you cried out for him, his control wavered, his movements becoming more desperate, more demanding.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, his voice thick with lust and something darker—something possessive.

"If you keep saying my name like that," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, "I'm gonna put a baby in you."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly at the sheer intensity behind them. Your fingers tightened in his hair, your body arching into him as your breath caught in your throat.

"You like that idea, don't you?" he teased, his voice a husky whisper, his hips rolling into yours with slow, deliberate force, making you feel every inch of him. "You want me to fill you up, make sure everyone knows you're mine?"

A whimper escaped your lips, your body tightening around him in response, and Conner groaned, his pace faltering for just a second before he recovered, thrusting even deeper. His grip on you became almost bruising, his control hanging by a thread.

"God," he gritted out, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes locked onto you, dark and intense. "I swear, I won't stop until I do."

The raw need in his voice sent another wave of pleasure through you, and as he pushed deeper, claiming you in every possible way.

A sudden gasp escaped your lips as Conner’s strong hands gripped your hips, his strength effortlessly flipping you onto your back. The world tilted for a brief second before you found yourself beneath him, your legs instinctively wrapping tighter around his waist. His body pressed firmly against yours, his heat, his weight, and his sheer presence overwhelming your senses.

He didn’t falter—not even for a second. His pace remained relentless, deep, and commanding, his hips rolling into yours with intoxicating precision. The friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making your body arch up into him, your fingers grasping at his broad shoulders, desperate to hold onto something as he claimed you over and over again.

His face hovered inches from yours, darkened blue eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His lips parted slightly, his breath ragged, and then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant; it was desperate, consuming, as if he needed to taste you, to remind you that you were his just as much as he was yours. His tongue swept over yours, deepening the kiss, swallowing every moan that slipped from your lips. He pulled away just enough to let you breathe, but his lips never strayed far, brushing against yours as he spoke.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he murmured, his voice husky, thick with lust and promise. “Gonna make sure you take all of me—make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. Your grip on him tightened, nails digging into his skin as another whimper escaped you.

“You want that, don’t you?” he teased, rolling his hips deeper, making you feel every inch of him. “Want me to fill you up—claim you completely?”

The sheer possessiveness in his tone, the way his body moved against yours, the promise laced in every word—it was too much, and yet not enough. You moaned his name again, breathless, lost in the way he took you, the way he worshipped you, the way he made you his in every possible way.

Every thrust, every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breath hitched, your nails digging into Conner's strong shoulders as your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

Conner wasn't far behind. You could feel it—the way his movements became more erratic, more desperate, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased that final peak. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he buried himself deeper, filling you completely.

"God," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure, his forehead pressing against yours as he panted. "I can feel you—you're so close."

His words sent a new wave of arousal crashing through you, making your body clench around him. That was all it took.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as pleasure exploded through you, your back arching, your body tensing as your release washed over you in waves. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him in deeper as you trembled beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of him.

The moment you tightened around him, Conner's control finally shattered. A deep, guttural moan escaped him, his hips snapping forward one final time as he reached his peak. His body tensed, his grip on you unrelenting as he spilled inside you, his warmth flooding you completely. His breath was heavy, his lips brushing against your temple as he groaned your name, his body still trembling from the force of it.

For a moment, the two of you simply lay there, tangled in each other, your bodies still pulsing from the aftershocks. Conner's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed lazy, lingering kisses against your shoulder, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your spine.

"You're incredible," he murmured, voice low and satisfied, as he held you against him, refusing to let go just yet.

Your breath slowly evened out and the warmth of the afterglow settled over you like a soft blanket as you shifted slightly against Conner's chest. His fingers traced lazy, absentminded patterns along your spine. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear was soothing, grounding, but your mind was still spinning—not from what just happened, but from something he had said in the heat of the moment.

You bit your lip, debating whether to bring it up. It wasn't the first time the topic had come up between you two, but hearing him say it like that, so raw and possessive, stirred something deep inside you.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shifted just enough to prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at him. Conner's blue eyes, still dark with the remnants of pleasure, flickered open to meet yours. A soft, lazy smile played on his lips, his fingers still caressing your bare skin.

"You meant what you said, didn't you?" you asked softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

His brows lifted slightly in curiosity before realization flickered across his face. His hand stilled on your back, and a slow, knowing smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

"The baby comment?" he asked, voice low and smooth, as if he already knew the answer.

You nodded, searching his gaze for any hint of hesitation.

Conner sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before resting it behind his head. He studied you for a long moment before nodding, his expression serious but warm. "Yeah," he admitted. "I meant it."

A shiver ran through you at the certainty in his voice. You had talked about it before—what it would be like to have kids someday, to have something that was undeniably yours, something created out of the love and connection you shared. It had always been a conversation wrapped in possibilities and "maybe one day" scenarios, never something either of you had explicitly committed to. But now, hearing him say it in such a raw, unfiltered way had your heart racing.

"You've been thinking about it more, haven't you?" you murmured, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his toned chest.

Conner's lips pressed into a thin line for a second before he exhaled, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "I have," he admitted. "I think about what it would be like. Having a family with you. Having something more than just this life of missions and danger." His voice was soft, but there was an underlying weight to it—a longing he wasn't sure how to fully put into words.

You swallowed hard, your heart twisting at the sincerity in his voice. "We've talked about it before," you whispered. "But I never knew if it was something you really wanted or if it was just...a passing thought."

His gaze hardened with determination, his grip on you firm but gentle. "It's not just a thought," he said, voice unwavering. "It's something real. Something I want—with you."

The intensity of his words sent warmth flooding through your chest, and you inhaled shakily, processing the weight of them. You had always loved the idea of a future with Conner, of growing together, of building something beyond just the life you had now. But hearing him say it so plainly, so confidently, made it feel real in a way it never had before.

A small, breathless laugh escaped you, and you leaned into his touch, pressing a lingering kiss against his palm. "You really see that for us?" you murmured, eyes searching his.

His expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "I do."

Your heart swelled at his words, and as you lay there wrapped in his embrace, the reality of it all settled deep in your bones. The future wasn't some distant dream anymore. It was a possibility—one that you both were ready to explore, together.

The night was calm as the warmth of Conner's body enveloped you, his strong arms holding you close as the two of you lay tangled beneath the sheets, breathing in sync. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm was grounding, comforting. For the first time in a long while, you felt truly at peace.

But then, the darkness came.

It started as a whisper—a low, eerie hum that slithered through the quiet abyss of your dream. At first, it was distant, barely noticeable, but then it grew louder, sharper, reverberating through your bones like a cosmic tremor. A weight pressed down on your chest, suffocating, heavy, pulling you into an endless void of swirling stars and shifting shadows.

A deep, unnatural voice echoed all around you, a presence so vast and ancient that it sent a chill down your spine.

"You cannot hide from what you are."

The stars around you pulsed violently, warping and bending, shifting into haunting figures—shadows with glowing eyes that bore into your soul. Their forms were constantly changing, flickering between monstrous and godlike, like they were struggling to settle on a single shape.

"You were created to be more than this."

The force behind the voice was overwhelming, pressing into your very essence, tugging at something deep within you. You felt it—something waking inside you, something vast and unfamiliar, like an ocean trapped within a fragile vessel.

Then, the darkness surged forward.

A sharp, searing pain exploded through you as a clawed hand, made of nothing but writhing cosmic energy, shot out from the abyss and grabbed your wrist. The moment it touched you, a rush of images flooded your mind—visions of planets crumbling, stars being snuffed out, and an endless hunger stretching across the galaxy. It wanted you. It needed you.

"You belong to the stars... and I will have you."

A scream tore from your throat as the cosmic force yanked you forward, its energy flooding through your veins, burning, consuming—

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, your body trembling, drenched in sweat. Your breath came in ragged, uneven pants as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room, trying to ground yourself back in reality. The warmth of Conner's arms was still around you, but now they were tense, his body stirring from the sudden jolt of your movement.

"Hey, hey—" His deep, sleep-roughened voice was laced with concern as his grip tightened around you. "What happened?"

You swallowed hard, pressing a shaking hand against your forehead as you tried to steady your breathing. The weight of the dream still clung to you, suffocating, as if the cosmic force was still lingering in the corners of your mind, watching, waiting.

"I—" You swallowed again, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a nightmare... but it felt real."

Conner shifted, pushing himself up slightly so he could look at you properly. His brows were furrowed, eyes scanning your face with deep concern. He reached out, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead.

"Tell me," he urged, his tone gentle but firm.

You hesitated, your heart still hammering in your chest, but the weight of the dream was too heavy to ignore. Taking a shaky breath, you met his gaze.

"It wasn't just a dream," you admitted, voice trembling. "Something... something is looking for me. And I don't think it's going to stop until it finds me."

From that night onward, the dreams never left you.

At first, you convinced yourself it was just lingering fear—a nightmare that had shaken you so deeply that it left an imprint on your mind. But as the nights passed, and the same vision replayed over and over, you realized it was something more.

Each time you closed your eyes, you were pulled back into that endless abyss of swirling stars and shifting darkness. The voice—ancient, commanding, hungry—always found you, its presence pressing against your very soul like an inevitability you couldn't escape.

"You are one of us. You cannot deny your purpose."

The words haunted you, sinking into your bones, growing louder with every dream. The presence never remained the same; sometimes, it was a figure wreathed in cosmic energy, its form too vast and ever-changing to comprehend. Other times, it was simply an overwhelming force, a pressure so intense it felt like your own body was being pulled apart molecule by molecule.

And always, always, there was the pain.

A searing, electric force that coursed through you the moment it touched you. It was as if something inside you was trying to awaken, something buried deep within your very existence—something it wanted.

Every time, you woke up gasping, drenched in sweat, your hands trembling as you clutched the sheets. Conner was always there, his presence grounding, his voice thick with concern as he held you close.

"You're safe," he would murmur against your temple, his strong arms wrapped around you. "I've got you."

But no matter how tightly he held you, no matter how safe you felt in his arms, the dreams never stopped.

And deep down, you knew it wasn't just a dream.

Something was coming. It was only a matter of time.

You weren't sure how the celestial being's words had anything to do with you. It spoke as though your existence had always been predetermined, as if you were part of something vast, something beyond your comprehension. But that didn't make sense. Your powers weren't some divine gift or ancient inheritance—they were the result of experimentation. CADMUS had built you in a lab, manipulated your DNA, and shaped you into what you were through science, not fate.

And yet... the dreams wouldn't stop.

Every night, the same voice whispered to you from the depths of an endless void, promising, demanding, calling. Each time, it felt closer, more insistent, as though something beyond the fabric of reality was pressing against the edges of your existence, waiting for you to give in. You tried to dismiss it, to push the dreams away as nothing more than the byproduct of stress, but your instincts wouldn't let you.

Something wasn't right.

You needed answers.

There were only two people you trusted enough to seek help from—Batman and Martian Manhunter.

Batman had always been more than just a leader to you. He had been the one to bring you to Mount Justice after you left home, the one who gave you a place on the team, the one who watched over you in ways that went beyond simple strategy. Your mentor. He had seen something in you before you had even seen it in yourself, and if anyone could help you make sense of this, it was him.

The Watchtower was quiet when you arrived, its cold, sterile halls buzzing with the faint hum of alien and human technology alike. Batman was already there, standing before a massive console, analyzing data from a recent mission. Even with his back to you, he knew you had entered.

"You're not sleeping," he said.

His voice was steady, calm, but not dismissive. He wasn't questioning you—he already knew something was wrong. That was Batman. Always knowing, always watching.

You exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "It's... worse than that," you admitted.

Finally, he turned to face you. The glow from the console illuminated the lower half of his cowl, but it was his eyes—sharp, calculating, piercing—that held you still. He was studying you, searching for answers before you could even give them.

"Tell me everything."

So, you did.

You told him about the dreams, about the voice that called to you, about the way it spoke as though you belonged to something beyond this world. You described the feeling of being watched, even in your waking hours, and the way something inside you—something you didn't understand—seemed to respond to the presence in your nightmares.

Batman listened in silence, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. But you knew him well enough to recognize the signs—he was processing, calculating possibilities, weighing every angle.

When you finished, he was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"Your powers came from CADMUS experiments," he said, voice measured, controlled. "But that doesn't mean the source of those powers was entirely man-made."

A cold chill ran through you.

The idea had always been in the back of your mind, an unsettling possibility you never dared explore too deeply. But hearing Batman say it—confirm it as a viable theory—made it feel real in a way you weren't ready for.

"I need to run tests," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "A full genetic analysis, energy readings—if there's anything in your DNA that suggests an origin beyond CADMUS's experiments, we need to know."

Your mouth felt dry, but you forced yourself to nod. "And if there is something?"

Batman didn't blink. "Then we need to find out what's coming for you before it finds you."

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest. But even as the gravity of the situation sank in, you knew you weren't done searching for answers. Batman could analyze the science of your existence, but there was someone else who could help you uncover the psychic connection you seemed to have to this entity—Martian Manhunter.

You found J'onn J'onzz in one of the quiet chambers of the Watchtower, the glow of the Earth visible through the large observation window. He stood in peaceful stillness, his hands clasped behind his back, his red eyes gazing out at the stars as if he were listening to something no one else could hear. When you entered, he turned to you, his expression calm but perceptive.

"You have questions," he said simply.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. "I think something is trying to reach me," you admitted. "It's not just a nightmare. It feels... real."

J'onn nodded slowly. "You believe there is a presence beyond your own mind."

"Yes." You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. "And I don't think it's going to stop until it gets what it wants."

J'onn studied you carefully, his eyes filled with quiet understanding. "If this presence is reaching for you, I may be able to sense it through your thoughts," he said. "Would you allow me to enter your mind?"

The request sent a ripple of unease through you—not because you didn't trust him, but because you weren't sure you were ready for what he might find.

Still, you nodded. "Do it."

J'onn stepped forward, lifting his hand to your temple. The moment his fingers made contact, a wave of psychic energy washed over you, and suddenly—

You weren't in the Watchtower anymore.

The darkness swallowed you whole. The same endless abyss from your nightmares stretched out around you, stars swirling and shifting in unnatural patterns. But this time, you weren't alone.

J'onn was here.

His presence was steady, an anchor in the chaos. But the moment he stepped into the dreamscape, something changed.

The presence reacted.

The void shuddered. The stars flickered violently, the shadows twisting, writhing, shifting as though they had noticed something new. Then, from the depths of the abyss, a voice—deep, ancient, and filled with something you couldn't name—spoke.

"YOU CANNOT HIDE HIM FROM ME."

A tremor ran through the void, and suddenly, the darkness rushed forward.

A searing pain exploded in your skull as an unseen force slammed into you. J'onn tensed beside you, his psychic defenses straining under the pressure of whatever was attacking. The weight of the entity pressed against you, raw and overwhelming, as if it were trying to pull something out of you—something buried deep inside.

And then—

You snapped back to reality.

Your eyes flew open as you gasped, your body trembling, heart racing. The room spun for a moment before you steadied yourself, breathing heavily. Across from you, J'onn remained unnervingly still, his usually composed expression shaken.

"That..." You swallowed hard. "That wasn't just a dream, was it?"

J'onn's red eyes met yours, and for the first time since you had known him, his expression was clouded with something close to alarm.

"No," he said gravely. "It was a message."

A cold knot formed in your stomach. "What does it mean?"

J'onn was silent for a long moment before answering, his voice unusually heavy.

"It means," he said carefully, "that whatever is looking for you... knows that we are looking back."

The Watchtower's medical bay was silent except for the faint hum of machinery and the rhythmic beep of the monitors. The sterile, white lights above cast a cool glow over the room, reflecting off the sleek metal counters filled with various vials and medical equipment. You sat on the exam table, arms crossed, waiting for Batman to return with your results.

The bloodwork had been routine—or at least, as routine as anything could be when Batman was involved. After your nightmares had escalated and the presence in them had become more tangible, he insisted on running a full genetic scan. Not just to confirm if anything cosmic had been tampered with in your DNA, but also to check if your powers had changed in any way. You had agreed, trusting his judgment.

What you hadn't expected was the gnawing pit of unease growing in your stomach as you sat there, waiting. Something felt... off.

When Batman finally returned, his heavy boots making almost no sound against the floor, he was carrying a datapad. His expression was unreadable as always, but something in his posture—his stillness—set you on edge.

You frowned. "That bad, huh?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stopped in front of you, staring at the screen, his analytical mind clearly running through the results over and over again. Then, finally, he looked up.

"There's something you need to see," he said. His voice was calm, measured, but there was something beneath it—something rare. Hesitation.

He turned the datapad toward you, and your eyes scanned the screen. A list of results, different markers, genetic readings, energy fluctuations—all of it looked normal at first. Then, at the very bottom, a singular result highlighted in red.

Your heart skipped a beat.

HCG Levels: Positive

Your brain stalled for a moment, struggling to process what you were looking at. The letters blurred together as your breathing grew shallow, and it took a full five seconds before the realization hit you.

"No..." The word escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible. Your hands clenched the edge of the table, knuckles white.

Batman remained silent, watching you carefully. He was giving you space to process, but you could tell he had expected your reaction. He had already pieced together what this meant before he even walked in.

Your gaze snapped back to the screen. "That's... that's impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "I mean, it's not impossible, but—" You swallowed hard. "Not now. Not this soon."

Batman studied you, his eyes sharp beneath the cowl. "Have you experienced any symptoms? Fatigue? Nausea?"

You blinked, your mind racing through the past few weeks. The exhaustion, the strange appetite shifts, the way your emotions had been a little off-balance—you had chalked it up to stress, to the nightmares draining you. But now, looking at the evidence in front of you, the signs had been there.

Your stomach turned.

"This... wasn't what we were looking for," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Batman finally set the datapad down, his tone remaining steady. "No. But it's something we need to account for."

You exhaled sharply, running a shaky hand through your hair. "Does Conner—" You stopped yourself, your pulse hammering in your ears.

He shook his head. "Not yet."

You bit your lip, your mind spiraling through a thousand thoughts at once. This was supposed to be something for the future—something you and Conner had talked about in vague, distant possibilities, but never now. Not when you were dealing with visions of celestial beings hunting you down.

Your eyes lifted to Batman's. "Are you sure?"

He didn't hesitate. "The results are conclusive."

A slow breath escaped you, your fingers tightening against your thighs as the weight of the revelation settled over you. You weren't just dealing with an unknown force trying to reach you. You weren't just navigating the complexities of your powers.

There was something else. Someone else. Growing inside of you.

And you had no idea what that meant.

The zeta-tube flared to life as you stepped through the portal, the familiar computerized voice announcing your arrival at Mount Justice. The moment your boots hit the sleek metal floor, a wave of exhaustion settled over you—not from the trip itself, but from the sheer weight of everything you had just learned.

You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the lingering tension. The Watchtower's cold, sterile atmosphere still clung to you, but this—this was home. Mount Justice had been your sanctuary, the place where you had built a life beyond CADMUS, beyond experimentation and control. It was where you found freedom.

It was also where he was waiting for you.

As you stepped into the main living area, your eyes immediately locked onto Conner. He was sitting on the couch, flipping through an old magazine—probably one of Wally's leftover relics—his broad shoulders tense even in relaxation. The second he saw you, his expression shifted, concern flickering across his face.

"You were gone longer than I expected." His voice was calm, but you could hear the underlying tension. "What happened?"

You exhaled and ran a hand through your hair, suddenly unsure of where to start. There was so much—too much—to say. You had gone to Batman and Martian Manhunter looking for answers, and instead, you had walked away with an entirely different life-changing revelation.

Conner was patient, but his eyes never left yours, studying you the way he always did when he knew something was wrong.

"I talked to J'onn," you began, stepping closer. "I let him into my mind—to see what's been happening in my dreams."

Conner immediately sat up straighter, his full attention locked on you. "And?"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "It's real, Conner. Whatever's been calling to me, it's not just some lingering trauma or my subconscious playing tricks on me. It's...something else."

Conner frowned, his brows knitting together. "Something else?"

You nodded, crossing your arms. "J'onn and I entered the dream together, but the moment we did... it reacted. It wasn't just a dream anymore. It was like—like the thing that's been reaching out to me knew J'onn was there, and it didn't like it. It fought back."

His jaw tightened. "Fought back how?"

Your fingers unconsciously curled into fists. "It attacked. It sent a wave of energy so strong that J'onn—Martian Manhunter, Conner—could barely hold his ground." You swallowed. "And before it threw us out, it spoke."

Conner's eyes darkened, his entire body going still. "...What did it say?"

You met his gaze, your voice low, almost unwilling to repeat it aloud. "It said, 'You cannot hide him from us.'"

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken thoughts. You could see the gears turning in Conner's mind, the way he was trying to process the weight of that single sentence.

After a moment, he shook his head, standing. "We're telling the League. If something's coming for you, we need—"

"There's more," you interrupted, your voice cutting through his determination.

Conner paused, his brows furrowing. "What else?"

You hesitated. Of all the things you had to tell him, this next part... this was the hardest.

"I also talked to Batman," you said carefully.

Conner's expression shifted slightly, a flash of wariness crossing his face. He knew your relationship with Batman—knew that the Dark Knight had been the one to bring you to Mount Justice, the one who had given you a place on the team. He also knew that if you went to him for answers, it was because something serious was going on.

"What did he say?"

You took another breath, bracing yourself. "He ran some tests on me. Bloodwork, genetic scans—he wanted to make sure there wasn't something in me that was causing these visions."

Conner's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he nodded. "And?"

You swallowed, your hands clenching at your sides before you forced yourself to say it.

"The tests showed something else."

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

"...What do you mean?"

You licked your lips, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "Batman found something in my bloodwork that neither of us were expecting. At least... not for a while."

Conner's expression shifted into something uncertain, the edges of his usual controlled demeanor cracking. "What is it?"

Your chest tightened, and then—quietly, almost uncertainly—you said the words that would change everything.

"I'm pregnant."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Conner just stared at you, completely still, as if his mind had momentarily short-circuited. His usual sharp instincts, his ability to process things at lightning speed, had completely failed him.

"...What?" The word barely left his lips, almost as if he hadn't meant to say it.

You swallowed hard. "I—I didn't even think it was possible," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But Batman double-checked. The results are real."

Conner blinked, his gaze flickering down to your stomach before snapping back up to meet yours. "You're... we're... having a baby?"

The way he said it—so raw, so unbelieving—sent a strange mix of emotions surging through you. Part of you was terrified, unsure of what this meant for both of you, but another part of you—a bigger part—wanted to hold onto the way he was looking at you.

Like this was everything.

Slowly, he took a step closer. Then another. Until he was standing right in front of you, his hands hesitating before gently resting against your sides. His fingers gripped you—not tightly, not possessively, but as if he needed something real to ground himself.

"This... this is real?" His voice was quieter now, uncertain, but hopeful.

You nodded. "Yeah."

For a long moment, he just stood there, searching your face, searching for something solid in the storm of emotions that was undoubtedly running through his mind. And then, without warning, he let out a breathless, shaky laugh—one that sounded incredibly close to relief.

"You're serious," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, stronger, surer, he looked into your eyes. "We're gonna be dads."

Something inside you eased at those words, the tension that had been knotting in your chest slowly unraveling. You exhaled, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"Yeah," you murmured back. "We are."

Conner's arms wrapped around you then, pulling you in tight, holding you closer than ever. Whatever fear had been lingering in him, whatever uncertainty had been twisting inside you—it didn't matter.

The streets of Happy Harbor were quiet in the way only a small town could be, the afternoon sun casting a warm, golden glow over the sidewalks as a light breeze carried the scent of the ocean from the nearby harbor. It was the kind of day that felt untouched by the chaos of missions, villains, and the ever-present weight of the League's expectations. For once, there was no fighting, no strategizing—just you and Conner, walking side by side, taking in the simplicity of normalcy.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions, shifting between awe, anxiety, and anticipation after discovering your pregnancy. It still felt surreal, like something that only existed in theory rather than reality. But moments like this—where you could just be together, uninterrupted—made it easier to breathe, to process everything without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders.

Conner walked beside you, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his usual quiet nature making him seem more relaxed than usual. Every so often, his gaze flickered to you, as if checking to make sure you were still here—not lost in thought, not drifting into worry, but present.

"You're staring," you pointed out with a smirk, not even needing to turn your head.

He huffed, his expression unchanging but the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Just making sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." You bumped your shoulder against his. "Not fragile, you know."

Conner didn't respond right away, but his hand ghosted over your lower back before dropping away, a barely-there touch that sent warmth through you. He wasn't the type to openly fuss, but his actions spoke for him—small gestures, little reassurances.

As the two of you wandered, you found yourselves passing by an old but well-kept building with large windows and a classic wooden sign hanging above the entrance:

Happy Harbor Public Library.

You slowed your steps instinctively, drawn to the quiet presence of the place. Libraries had always been a strange kind of sanctuary—filled with stories, history, knowledge. A place where time felt slower, where things weren't constantly shifting at an overwhelming pace.

Conner followed your gaze, then turned to you. "Want to go in?"

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Haven't been to a library in forever."

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open, the scent of aged paper, polished wood, and ink immediately wrapping around you. The space was calm, the only sounds being the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional whisper between visitors. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting warm streaks of gold across the bookshelves.

It was peaceful. Safe.

You wandered through the aisles, your fingers trailing lightly along the spines of the books as you skimmed the titles. Conner walked beside you, his presence solid and familiar, though he didn't seem as interested in the books themselves. Instead, he watched you—his attention focused entirely on the way you moved through the quiet space, how your fingers idly flipped through the pages of random books, how your eyes scanned the covers with interest.

Eventually, you settled into a quiet corner where a few old armchairs were tucked between the shelves. You picked up a book—something about myths and legends—and sat down, flipping through the pages. Conner remained standing for a moment before stepping closer and nodding toward the book in your hands.

"Read it to me."

You blinked, looking up at him. "You can read, Conner."

"I know." His lips twitched slightly, almost teasing, but there was something genuine in his expression. "I just like hearing you do it."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, shaking your head. "That's the worst excuse for being lazy I've ever heard."

He smirked, unbothered. "So?"

Rolling your eyes, you sighed and turned back to the book, flipping to a random passage. "Fine. But don't blame me if you get bored."

Conner sat down beside you, his arm resting along the back of the chair, his presence warm and solid. You could feel the subtle shift in the air as he leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel his breath against your shoulder as you began to read aloud.

The words flowed easily from your lips, weaving tales of ancient beings and celestial warriors, of battles fought across the stars. Conner didn't interrupt, didn't shift impatiently—he just listened, his focus entirely on your voice.

After a while, you paused, glancing at him. "Still awake?"

Conner hummed, the sound low and content. "Yeah. Keep going."

A soft chuckle escaped you, shaking your head slightly before turning the page. And for a while, that was all that mattered—the two of you, lost in the pages of a story, in the quiet sanctuary of the library, with no battles to fight and no enemies to face.

Just you, him, and the steady rhythm of your voice filling the space between you.

A sudden explosion shattered the peaceful silence, sending a tremor through the ground and rattling the windows of the library. The shockwave vibrated through the air, making books shift slightly on the shelves as startled murmurs filled the quiet space. Your head snapped toward the sound instinctively, muscles tensing, instincts kicking into overdrive.

Conner was already moving. He shot up from his seat, his senses sharp, his body immediately falling into a defensive stance. You exchanged a brief glance, both silently reaching the same conclusion: whatever just happened wasn't normal.

Without wasting another second, the two of you rushed toward the exit, pushing through the heavy library doors and stepping into the open air. The sky, once bright and clear, was now clouded with rising smoke from the explosion. People on the street had either frozen in fear or were scrambling for cover, pointing toward something descending from above.

Your eyes locked onto the figure emerging from the swirling distortion of a glowing portal. He was tall, imposing, draped in sleek, futuristic black armor that gleamed under the sunlight. A large, blood-red cape billowed behind him, his presence almost regal in its intensity. But what stood out the most was the symbol emblazoned on his chest—a purple crystal emblem, pulsating with a faint but unmistakable cosmic energy.

And then, there were his eyes.

Dark, infinite pools of energy swirled within them, glowing with an eerie, malevolent shimmer—something unnatural, something otherworldly.

He stepped forward, the portal snapping shut behind him with a violent ripple in space, as though reality itself was trying to correct the disturbance. The sheer weight of his presence sent a chill down your spine. Even before he spoke, you knew.

He was here for you.

His gaze swept across the street, scanning the area until it landed directly on you and Conner. The moment your eyes met his, a strange sensation pulsed through your veins—an unsettling familiarity, as if you had felt his energy before. Somewhere deep within you, something stirred, a whisper of recognition that made your skin prickle.

"You," his voice boomed, deep and commanding, carrying an unnatural echo as though it resonated through the fabric of existence itself. He lifted a gauntleted hand, dark energy crackling at his fingertips.

"You will come with me."

There was no introduction, no warning—just a command.

Conner immediately moved in front of you, his stance shifting into a protective position, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. His fists clenched at his sides, eyes narrowing as he took a solid step forward.

"Yeah?" Conner shot back, his voice cold and unwavering. "Not gonna happen."

The armored figure didn't even blink. Without hesitation, he raised his arm and fired.

A bolt of blazing dark energy shot toward you at blinding speed. Instinct took over and with a sharp inhale, you reached inside yourself, drawing on the vast energy coursing through your veins, the power that had both terrified and defined you for so long. You thrust your hands forward, channeling your own cosmic force outward in a brilliant surge of energy, sending a glowing stream of pure light colliding against his.

The clash was instantaneous.

A violent shockwave erupted from the point of impact, rattling the ground beneath you and sending cracks through the pavement. The sheer force of it created a blinding pulse of light, illuminating the street in flickering hues of gold and violet. The opposing forces crackled against one another, swirling like a storm caught between two unmovable objects.

But as the seconds passed, you felt it—his power was stronger.

The weight of his energy pushed against yours with an overwhelming force, threatening to swallow your resistance whole. It bore down on you like an immense gravitational pull, the sheer pressure nearly making your knees buckle. It felt ancient, vast, as if you were standing against the raw might of the universe itself.

Yet, you didn't back down.

Gritting your teeth, you planted your feet firmly against the ground and pushed harder, drawing every ounce of strength from within you. The strain was immediate, your muscles tensing, your vision blurring at the edges as sweat formed along your brow. The sheer effort of holding the line against his power sent searing pain through your body, but you refused to let it overpower you.

Conner saw the struggle unfolding and moved.

With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, fists clenched, his body a blur of motion as he closed the distance between himself and the armored figure. His intent was clear—he wasn't going to sit back and let this guy tear through you.

But before he could even land a blow, the air behind the intruder rippled.

The space he had emerged from—a swirling mass of cosmic distortion—flared open once more.

From its depths, something massive began to emerge.

At first, it was just shifting shadows, an eerie glow radiating from within the portal, but then—stone.

Large, hulking figures stepped through one by one, each of them towering over the battlefield, their bodies composed of dark, weathered rock. Glowing purple and white runes were etched deep into their massive stone limbs, pulsating with an otherworldly energy, ancient symbols that seemed to hum with raw, magical power. Their movements were slow but deliberate, the weight of their existence sending tremors through the ground with each step.

They looked like golems—but unlike anything you had ever seen before.

The first one slammed its massive fists into the pavement, sending shockwaves rippling outward, shattering the asphalt and forcing Conner to skid back to avoid being hit. Another let out a low, guttural roar, the sound vibrating through your bones as it locked onto both of you with glowing violet eyes, its massive form looming like a walking monolith of destruction.

Conner barely spared them a second glance before gritting his teeth and setting his sights back on the one responsible for summoning them.

"Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath before launching himself forward again, this time forced to weave between the golems as they moved to intercept him.

The man in the black armor remained unmoved. He simply stood there, watching—analyzing—almost as if he were waiting.

You could still feel the overwhelming force of his energy pressing against yours, pushing harder, but now it wasn't just about raw power. Now, there were monsters in play, and Conner was throwing himself straight into the middle of them.

The balance had shifted.

The clash of cosmic energy and brute force sent ripples of destruction through the streets of Happy Harbor. Your muscles ached from the relentless strain of holding back the intruder's attack, and Conner was already dodging and weaving between the colossal golems that had been summoned, each of them moving with terrifying weight and precision.

And then, without warning, another portal ripped through the sky.

The air crackled with a new, yet strangely familiar energy. It wasn't like the dark, oppressive force radiating from the armored man—this energy was different, refined yet equally vast. It carried a sense of controlled chaos, a power that wasn't just raw strength but something deeper, more intricate.

From the swirling rift, a figure emerged.

He floated just above the battlefield, his presence alone causing a temporary shift in the air. He was clad in a black bodysuit, sleek and form-fitting, with a light blue cloak flowing behind him, its material weightless against the cosmic winds that followed in his wake. His hood was drawn low, obscuring his face in shadows, but you didn't need to see it.

You felt him.

His energy pulsed in the air, wrapping around you like an echo of your own—familiar, yet different, as if you had known this presence long before this moment. It was like looking at a reflection of something buried deep inside yourself, something that had been waiting for you to notice.

The newcomer hovered in the air for only a moment, his head tilting slightly as he took in the battlefield. His glowing hands flexed as he analyzed the situation—the armored man still standing strong, the golems moving in sync, Conner preparing to launch himself at them once more.

Then, without hesitation, he moved.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, a concentrated blast of pure cosmic energy erupted from his palm, streaking across the battlefield in a blinding arc. The force of it struck the armored figure dead-on, causing a shockwave of light and distortion that momentarily disrupted the fight.

The armored man staggered, his own energy faltering as the impact sent him skidding backward. The air around him rippled, his red cape snapping from the sheer force of the blast.

For the first time since his arrival, the intruder reacted. His head snapped toward the cloaked figure, his expression twisting in something that wasn't just anger—recognition.

"You—"

But before he could finish, the newcomer extended his hand toward you and Conner, and another portal opened beneath you.

The ground beneath your feet shifted as you felt a sudden pull, your body weightlessly yanked into the swirling distortion of energy. The last thing you saw before vanishing into the void was the armored man's fury as he lunged toward the portal—too late.

The last thing you heard was his voice, filled with rage and frustration, reverberating through the battlefield.

"He belongs to me!"

And then—everything vanished.

The portal's energy twisted and rippled around you, pulling you and Conner through what felt like a maelstrom of time itself. Your body felt weightless, suspended in an infinite void of shifting colors and streaks of cosmic light. And then, as quickly as it started, the sensation stopped.

You landed on solid ground, your feet planting onto sleek, smooth flooring. The air around you was different—sharper, cleaner, filled with the quiet hum of advanced technology. As your vision cleared from the disorienting transition, you took in your surroundings.

It was Mount Justice—but not the one you knew.

The architecture had changed, sleek metallic panels and futuristic holo-screens embedded seamlessly into the walls. The lighting was softer, glowing from hidden strips along the ceiling rather than the bright overhead lights you were used to. Familiar structures were still present—the training area, the central briefing room—but everything looked more advanced, as if the entire base had been rebuilt from the ground up with decades of technological improvements.

Then, you noticed the others.

A group of heroes stood around the room, watching you and Conner carefully. Sidekicks. Young heroes clad in advanced suits bearing familiar emblems. Their outfits were modernized, enhanced, but the symbols they wore—Robin's red and yellow R, Kid Flash's lightning bolt, even a reimagined Aqualad insignia—were unmistakable.

A sense of unease settled over you as you turned to Conner, only to realize that he wasn't looking at them.

He was staring at the man who had brought you here.

Following his gaze, you finally took in the details you had missed before. The figure stood calmly in front of you, his hands at his sides, the light blue cloak that had concealed him now draping casually behind him. But now, with the portal no longer in motion, something else stood out.

On the back of his cloak, a dark blue 'S' was emblazoned—Superman's emblem.

Your breath hitched slightly, your mind struggling to catch up with what you were seeing. Conner's stance immediately shifted, his body language tense as he took a step forward, his voice sharp with demand.

"Where the hell did you take us?" he growled, his eyes narrowing. "And who are you?"

The man before you let out a quiet chuckle at Conner's tone, the sound light, almost nostalgic. There was something in his posture that wasn't hostile, something that felt...familiar.

"I missed that gruffness," he said with a smirk, shaking his head. "Guess some things really don't change."

His hand lifted, fingers grasping the edges of his hood before he pulled it down.

The moment his face was revealed, your heart stopped.

He looked young, early twenties at most, his jawline sharp, his features strong and familiar in a way that sent shockwaves through your chest. His hair was jet black, tousled like he had barely cared to fix it, and his skin was slightly tanned—not as pale as Conner's, not as dark as yours, but a perfect blend.

And then... his eyes.

They were yours.

The same shape, the same depth, the same cosmic glow you had seen in the mirror more times than you could count.

A sharp gasp escaped you before you could stop it, your stomach twisting in something between awe and disbelief.

The man—this stranger, this familiar presence, this impossible existence—smiled softly before speaking again.

"Hey, Dad." His voice was warm now, filled with something deeper than just amusement. He turned slightly, nodding toward Conner.

"Hey, Pa."

Conner froze. Absolutely froze.

The entire room went silent.

His smile widened, his cosmic-blue eyes flickering in the dim light.

"I'm Casey Kent," he confirmed. "Your son."

#dc x male reader #x male reader #dc #superboy #conner kent x male reader #conner kent #young justice #young justice x male reader #gay

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meowmeowriley · 8 months ago

Text

Simon was not a morning person.

Johnny was.

He'd never have guessed it, Soap and Ghost were up at the crack of dawn on base, barking orders at their men and running themselves just as ragged. Had he never followed Ghost home for leave, he could've lived his entire life not knowing that tiny personal detail. Johnny had come to realize that perhaps some of Ghost's hard-ass personality came from him being grumpy after waking up too early.

That first morning in Simon's flat Johnny had gotten up before the sun, same as he did on base. He brewed coffee and waited for a bit, waiting for Simon to rise, but the other man hadn't moved from the heap of limbs and duvet he had contorted himself into in the bed. Johnny went for a run and returned and still no movement from Simon.

Eventually, at nearly noon, Simon sauntered out of his room and into the kitchen, duvet cocooning him. If Soap drew a very tired caterpillar and a butterfly with a skull mask in his journal later that day, that was between himself and God.

The second day Johnny made the mistake of attempting to wake him. He rose, but he was gruff, short tempered, and as the two went for a run together passers by gave them a wide berth, as Simon's glare could curdle milk.

The third day was when Johnny happened upon a stroke of pure genius. He woke Simon as he rose, unintentionally, and earned himself a few choice words that he couldn't discern as they were vehemently growled into a pillow. Johnny brewed his coffee, boiled Simon's tea, retrieved a packet of biscuits from the cabinet, and left it all on the table in the living room. He then returned to his sulking boyfriend, who hadn't yet gone back to sleep.

"Up, c'mon, tea's gonna get cold."

Simon grumbled and rolled to face him, squinting like a displeased cat. Later, a disgruntled black cat with a white face, flicking it's tail would be drawn below the butterfly. Any relation to real world events was purely coincidental.

"I'll carry ya if I have to." Johnny meant it as a tease.

"Like you're gonna carry my heavy ass." Simon rolled his eyes.

Johnny was never one to back down from a challenge, and scooped the larger man up from the bed, holding him bridal style. He didn't even try to keep himself from laughing at Simon's indignant squawk.

He carried him, blanket and all, to the couch and deposited him before his breakfast, which he promptly handed over. He noticed, later, that Simon didn't glare quite so hard at the old birds power walking the opposite way they'd been running that day.

The next day he carried Simon over his shoulder, the next fireman's carry, and the day after Simon wrapped himself around Johnny's front.

His favorite, and it seemed to be Simon's favorite too as he kept positioning himself for it every time after, had been when he'd turned away from the bed to glance out the window, and Simon had risen of his own accord. He draped himself across Johnny's back, wrapping the blanket around them both and nuzzling into Johnny's neck.

John had reached back, one arm up to thread his fingers through Simon's bedhead, and the other down, so that he could pinch Simon's ass, earning him a nip to his carotid.

Laughing, Johnny had slapped gently at Simon's thigh, "Up, I still have to make your tea.

Simon dutifully lifted that leg and then climbed up, arms bracketing Johnny's head, legs secure around his navel, and chin nestled into Johnny's mussed up mohawk. The man fit there perfectly.

From that day on, Johnny carried his overgrown koala of a boyfriend around the flat as he carried out his morning routine of keeping them both caffinated and fed.

Even after returning to base, and hiding Simon and Johnny away behind Ghost and Soap, Ghost would find Soap in the rec room and climb up to wait for his breakfast.

No one dared question the Lieutenant's slight change in behavior, as they enjoyed not having their heads ripped off.

#call of duty #modern warfare #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #fanfic #drabbles

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oozedninjas · 1 year ago

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2012 boys having their first time? They don't usually let out much "turtely" noises so...

poor boys, it feels so good they can't stop churring 🥺

This is the first time I see the word "churring" I hope to be writing it right? I looked it up but Google said it's some sort of squeaky sound? God, I hope I did it right, tell me if it's wrong and I'll change it lol

Warnings: NSFW / MDNI / 18+ / turtle noises / first time together but not V card loss bc I wanted this to be short pls don't kill me T.T / 2012 / guys are mid to late 20's / breeding kink / oral sex

Leo tries to suppress the sound. Gritting his teeth, controlling his breathing, but holy shit. It's so tight inside you, soft and hot. You're taking him in so well that his mind spirals to the place of only instincts. Yet, he manages to hold them back. It's the first time you've been together, you're not used to it. You'll judge him, think it's weird. He can't let-

"Fuck, yes! Right there, you're so good," your voice trembles, breath staggered.

The sound of your voice, or maybe the way your legs laced around him, forcing his thrust, sent him over the edge. Every strangled sound mingled with his ragged breaths. He didn't care anymore, or so he thought, until your praise washed over him.

Raph started tenderly. "Tell me if it hurts," he said. "I'll stop." And he did. He followed your pace and until now he had done nothing but make you come so hard your toes curled. Yet, the skin on your neck and shoulder throbbed from his constant biting.

"Wait, no more… please. That hurts," you managed. Voice weak and quivering.

Raph groaned against your neck, jaw clenching. He sucked on your flesh every time he felt the stupid churring building in the back of his throat, he never meant to hurt you.

"Sorry, babe- I'll go easier on you," he said as his breath mixed with that pitiful sound.

"What was that?"

Damn. You surely thought it was weird, disgusting, misfitting. He could make you come again, maybe then-

"I want to hear it again," you pleaded, clenching around his cock in your attempt to pull him closer. "Raph please, it was so hot,"

He downright moaned at that. Fuck, anything for you.

The rhythmic pounding of his hips against yours intensified, the sound echoing in your core. A stolen glance downward sent a jolt through you. His erection pistoned into you, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

Donatello seized your mouth, his kiss a whirlwind of heat and urgency. A strangled groan escaped his lips as he chased his peak. He could feel the churring creeping at the back of his throat like a threat to ruin everything.

"I want to feel you coming inside me," you gasped, lips brushing his. "come for me baby, with me-"

Your orgasm burned through you as you felt his cum spread within. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as he held you close, his touch a damp heat against your skin. A tremor vibrated through him, a low rumble threatening to erupt. Then, the telltale churring sound, weak and smooth, filled the air.

"What's that?" you panted, snuggling him.

"I'll explain later," he mumbled, voice husky with exhaustion as the soft sound spilled through, filling the air.

"Hmm, it's calming. I love it," you said, kissing his cheeks. "Can you keep making it?"

Fuck yes, he can. For as long as you desire.

Mikey kept his pace steady as he circled his tongue, thick and hot, over your clit. Rough palms bracketed your hips down, trapping you close. A delicious heat bloomed in your core.

"Wait, I don't- I don't want to come yet," you breathed, trying to move off and failing just as he pushed his tongue inside you. You gasped.

Mikey moaned, drinking you out. His cock throbbed, aching, dying to be engulfed in your hot, wet hole. Fuck, the anticipation of your pussy clenching on him had Mikey on the verge of coming. But that could be for another day, one where you were so addicted to the way he makes you come that you wouldn't care for silly churring sounds.

"Babe, I want you to feel good too," you managed to mutter, barely.

Shit, he loved the drunk-like sound of your voice. "No, this is fine. Let me show you the stars,"

You ground over his face, allowing. Mikey thrust his hips up, attempting to relieve some tension. His dick twitched, needy. A choked sob, laced with a desperate raspy churr, erupted from his throat.

You gripped the side of his head in return, clenching your cunt around his tongue like you liked it. That thought unleashed every little sound he was repressing. Your moaning grew louder as you came long and hard over his mouth.

"That sound you made," you began, evening your breath, "I want to hear it right in my ear when you fuck me."

Fuck, marry him, would you?

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leashybebes · 3 months ago

Text

living at the edge of the world (2/2)

part 1 | ao3 version here

aaaaand we're done. needs a polish but it should be on ao3 early next week if anyone prefers to read there!

The hospital moves around him.

That's how it feels. Like Buck, still in his turnouts, is pinned and at the mercy of gravity (gravity pulling at the chopper, fighting with mechanics and engineering and winning, always winning and - no) while the whole world moves around him, able to go on somehow, while he's just - here. Noises blur and blend into a background roar that fades under the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, the lights are too bright, his hands hurt from how tight he's been balling them into fists to stop them shaking.

Tommy had disappeared through those doors into surgery with a crowd of doctors and nurses around him and even knowing that he wouldn't be allowed, Buck had tried to follow only to be - gently, kindly, firmly turned back. And now he's sitting here, him and Tommy both victims of gravity, and Tommy might as well be on the other side of the planet for how far away he feels.

Time stretches and compresses around him, meaningless waves of seconds and minutes and centuries.

He still hasn't cried.

Hen shows up first, with a bag of his clothes and a hug that he collapses into.

"They won't tell me anything," he says, muffled into her shoulder. "I'm not - not an emergency contact."

"Okay," she says. "Go get changed. I'll talk to them."

Buck blinks and he's in the bathroom, dressed in the clothes Hen must have taken from his locker.

His turnouts won't fit into the bag. He remembers they had the same problem after Maddie and Chim's wedding - Tommy's turnouts too large and too stiff to fit in a bag. Buck had run them down to the Jeep, part of him thrilling at the sight of Tommy's name, right there on his backseat. He flips his own turnouts inside out to try to keep the mess off his clothes.

Blinks and he's back in the waiting room.

"He'll be in surgery for a while," Hen says when she sits back down next to him. "His emergency contact is on the way, we'll find out more then. Sorry I couldn't get more out of them."

"That's okay," Buck says, and his voice comes out croaky and weak. He clears his throat, but doesn't have anything to say.

Hen puts her arm around his shoulders and it takes him a beat to lean into it.

"Tommy's tough," she says, and he nods, trying not to remember how scared Tommy had looked, how scared he'd sounded, those awful moments in the ambulance where he'd - where he'd had to be brought back, because - because he was gone.

"I should have told him," he says.

"Hmm?"

"That I love him. I should have said it. Hen, why didn't I say it?"

"You'll get the chance," she tells him. "You've gotta believe that."

Some indeterminate period of time later, Chim arrives, side by side with -

"Sal!"

He looks harried, still in his uniform, like he came right from his station on the other side of town. Buck only met him a couple of times when he and Tommy were dating, didn't know he'd be the emergency contact, but it makes sense. Tommy's cousin lives near Portland - shit, someone should call him, Buck thinks - and it would have to be someone local.

"Hey, kid," Sal says. "You got here quick."

"We were at the scene," Hen says, her voice heavy with a significance Buck can't parse right now.

"Ah, hell. Alright. Hang tight."

Chim sits on the other side of Buck, him and Hen like brackets, holding Buck together. Buck thinks they're talking but he can't hear it, can't look away from where Sal is at the nurse's station, talking seriously and quietly with someone Buck can't see.

"Can - can someone let Eddie know?" Buck asks.

"Already did," Chim says. "Maddie's dropping Jee with Anne and John and she'll be here as soon as she can."

Buck nods, draws breath to say something about Tommy's cousin but it sticks in his throat when Sal turns and heads back towards them.

"Okay," he says. "He's still in surgery, probably will be for a bit yet because of some internal bleeding and they want to set the breaks they can while he's under, too. They sound hopeful, though. They said the care he got on the scene was top rate, really pulled him through. Guess we have you two to thank for that," he adds, glancing at Hen and Chim.

"That's good to hear," Hen says. "I'm gonna do a coffee run, update Karen. Sal, you still milk, no sugar?"

"Aw, Wilson, I'm touched. Usually yeah, but put like, four, five sugars in there for me, okay? Could be a long night."

"Gross," Chim says mildly, but it sounds like a reflex.

"Buck?" Hen prompts. "You want anything else?"

Buck shakes his head mechanically. His stomach hurts. Set the breaks and internal bleeding ricocheting around in his head.

"Okay," Hen says gently, squeezing his shoulder. She exchanges a glance with Sal, who takes her vacated chair next to Buck as soon as she stands.

Time does its thing - swooping, contracting, passing with no new information. More people trickle in as the hours pass.

Maddie sits next to Buck and holds his hand. Bobby hugs him and makes awkward small talk with Sal. Lucy and a couple of other people from Harbor trickle in and take up seats around the room. Buck's phone vibrates intermittently in his pocket but he can't bring himself to look at it.

All he can think about is Tommy. Tommy looking so scared. Tommy bleeding and crying and saying how glad he was to see Buck.

I love you, Buck thinks, hoping wildly that Tommy will hear it somehow.

Finally, finally, an exhausted looking doctor steps through the doors and says, "Family of Tommy Kinard?"

Everybody looks around from where they're seated, talking in twos and threes. Chim nudges Lucy awake and she flails a little. Sal stands to meet the doctor. Buck wants to stand too, but he feels like he's made of lead, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it's all he can feel. He can't read the doctor's face at all, can't hear what she's saying, can only see that her mouth is moving.

"So he's gonna be okay," Sal says, and then - Buck doesn't know. Sal's saying other things, people are talking, making relieved noises, but he can't hear a word of it. His ears are ringing, his head is spinning, his heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest.

Buck's breath rattles in his chest, and dimly he hears Maddie's voice.

" - ck? Buck? Hey, it's okay, just breathe," she urges.

And oh, there they are. There are the tears. It's a good job he didn't manage to stand before, because he's pretty sure he'd be on the floor by now if he had. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, lets Maddie hold him from one side, Bobby from the other, doesn't think about the other people in the room - half of them little more than strangers to him - and cries and cries.

Once he's settled down - once he's cried himself out - he realizes that the room is a little less full.

"Where'd - " he croaks, and clears his throat. "Where'd they go?"

"Captain Harman and Lucy have gone to update the rest at Harbor," Maddie says. "Chim's collecting Jee, and Hen's gone to swap over with Karen. She'll be here soon. Eddie called a couple times."

Buck nods. "I'll call him back later."

"Wash your face, kid," Sal says, not unkindly. "We can go sit with him if you want."

Buck starts to launch himself to his feet but finds himself pressed back into the seat by Bobby, who's holding out a pre-packed hospital cafeteria sandwich and a protein bar.

"Eat something first," he orders, and Buck reluctantly agrees. Even that little movement had been enough to make him feel dizzy. He chokes down the food even though it's so much sawdust, and eventually he finds himself in Tommy's hospital room.

More tears threaten to spring to his eyes at the sight - the cast on his arm, the bulk under the covers of what must be another under the covers, the stitches near his hairline, the IVs, the machines, the beeping. He breathes through it and hesitates before Sal shoves him towards the seat next to the head of the bed. He drags it around a little so he can sit at Tommy's side, carefully taking hold of the hand on his uninjured arm.

"Jesus fucking christ. Kinard and his hero bullshit," Sal mumbles, sounding shaky for the first time.

"You need to sit?" Buck asks, not looking away from Tommy's face.

"For a second," Sal says, collapsing into the other chair. "I need to update Gina and the kids. I spoke to the staff, you can stay."

"Thank you," Buck says absently.

Time continues to pass. Staff and second visitors come and go, and thankfully no one even suggests that Buck should move. Lucy drops by with food at one point, assuring him it's lunch time, and sitting with him while he eats. Chim comes by and tells him about the last time he was waiting in a hospital for Tommy, drops off a Get Well Soon card from Jee that joins the growing little cluster on the table next to the bed.

When he's left on his own with Tommy at one point, Buck gets up to pace the room, stiff from sitting in hospital chairs for what must be going on double digit hours now, if it's not already long past. It's when he sits down that he notices the fluttering of Tommy's eyelashes. It could be nothing, he tells himself, as he holds his breath and watches, his hand hovering over the call button. When Tommy's good hand starts twitching, when he tries to lift it towards the mask on his face, Buck slams the button.

"Hey," he says softly. "Stay still for me, baby. You're in the hospital. It's okay, someone's coming."

A nurse appears in the doorway and Buck retreats from the bed. He feels like he's more present in his head now than he was before, mentally taking notes on the nurse's conversation with the doctor he summons, on what they both say to Tommy and to him. As they're leaving, he fires off a text to the group chat, then puts away his phone and takes Tommy's hand again.

Those beautiful blue eyes, still a little hazy with painkillers, turn to him.

"Evan."

"Hey, Tommy. You scared the crap out of us," he says. Tommy's hand, shaking a little, lifts to his face, strokes his thumb over Buck's cheek like the tears are still visible.

"Sorry," he croaks. "Needed a week off and really didn't wanna use up my PTO."

Buck laughs, shaky and a little wild, presses his cheek more firmly into Tommy's hand. "You dick," he says fondly. "Here."

He grabs a glass of water from the bedside table, holds the straw steady for Tommy to take a couple of sips.

"Thanks," Tommy says, sounding a bit more like himself.

"That's okay," Buck says.

"Were - you were there?"

"Yeah," Buck says, and Tommy's eyes close briefly.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I - I should have been less - I was being selfish - "

And Buck - he can't stand to hear that again. Can't stand to hear Tommy calling himself selfish for using what he probably thought were his dying breaths to try to comfort Buck.

"I love you," he says.

Tommy's mouth opens. Closes. He frowns as though he might have heard that wrong.

"W-what?"

"I don't know if you remember, I - I said we'd talk? In the hospital?"

"I remember," Tommy says. "But - "

"We will," Buck promises. "We'll talk. We have so much to talk about. But the last - jesus, the last 12 hours, I guess, I've been sitting there with all our friends, and I've just been thinking, I should have told him. He should know. So. Now you do. I love you."

"Evan - "

"You don't have to say it. It's okay. I know it's a lot. I know I'm a lot. But. I was sitting out there, with Sal, and Lucy, and your captain - she is scary, by the way - and Hen and Maddie and Chim and Bobby and everyone, and I just couldn't stop thinking…does he know? Like does he know any of these people love him? Does he know I love him?"

"Well," Tommy says after a beat. "Now I do."

"Now you do," Buck says. His phone is blowing up and he starts to reach for it, but Tommy squeezes his hand to keep his attention.

"Hey. I love you too," Tommy says. "I want - I want us to talk, but I'm so tired, I just - I love you so much. I love you now, I loved you when I left, and it scares the shit out of me."

"Me too," Buck admits, ignoring the way his voice cracks.

"Be brave together?" Tommy suggests.

"That sounds perfect," Buck says. "Go to sleep, honey. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know you will," Tommy says, and he smiles.

tag list! which idk, i'm not 100% sure is working? i'm sorry!!

@geddyqueer @adiprose @peapodbond @poppyspoppy @stolemyhheart @screamlet @buck-unbewildered @beanarie @chococara25 @fenrirscarsback @hyperfocusthusly

@trombonechurchill @thegingerparty @setmeatopthepyre @rcmclachlan @espressotonicc

@untitledbychoice @sunnywithachanceofbi @onceuponatmi @tistai @blitzynatural @laundryandtaxesworld @mubsterstuff @samjohnssonvt

#bucktommy #my writing

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