#I started this with the idea of making his entire body

[cumironi]

CREAM-OF-THE-CROP CUNT, MAMA

feat, gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

summary. what? just because you are six months pregnant your husband is gonna stop worshipping you? nooooo. . . he became worse, and the idea of making sure you are pregnant (despite the bump) makes them go crazy, especially with your little sweet bump.

trigger/warnings. non-sorcerer, everyone trying to be a gentleman (fails), calling reader “mama,” pussy-drunk behavior, pregnant sex, belly worship, size kink, deep penetration, unprotected vaginal sex, leg-folding position, full nelson vibes, praise kink, possessive language, swearing / explicit language, references to breeding kink (implied), overstimulation, internal ejaculation, cum leaking, soft dom / feral energy blend, emotional intensity, aftercare / caretaking (gentle touches, kisses), power imbalance (older man / younger woman), oral fixation (kissing, belly + knee worship)

GOJO SATORU

“—you’re gonna kill me,” gojo groans, forehead pressed against yours, voice ragged like he’s been running for miles, but really, all he’s been doing is holding himself together—barely—as your legs wrap tighter around his waist and you moan his name like it’s a damn prayer and a curse all at once. “no, seriously, baby, i’m—i’m dying. you’re murdering me with this pussy. it’s a crime. i should call the cops. except i am the fucking cops. i’m the fbi. i’m the law. and you’re under arrest. for being—fuck—for being too hot while pregnant.”

you try to say something, maybe something like “shut up” or “just keep going” or maybe just his name again, but you can’t—you’re too full, too stretched, too wrecked already and he hasn’t even really started yet.

“so tight,” he breathes, like the thought has him hypnotized. “how are you tighter while pregnant? is that a thing? can i google it later? because this is—jesus, baby—this is like heaven. like… like heaven wrapped in velvet wrapped in a vice grip wrapped in the greatest porn i’ve ever watched except it’s real and it’s you and it’s mine.”

he kisses your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts that’s grown fuller over the last few weeks—his obsession. he talks to them like they’re separate beings. he’s lost his mind and he’s made peace with it.

“gonna feed our baby with these,” he mutters, latching onto one nipple like it’s instinct, groaning like the taste of your skin alone could make him cum. “gonna wake up at 3am to help you, promise, swear to god. but only if i get to do this first. every night. every fucking night, sweetheart.”

you whimper, and it makes his whole body stutter, hips rocking deeper, harder, like your sound gives him permission to lose rhythm entirely.

“there it is,” he grins, breathless and boyish, completely wrecked and stupid and so very in love. “that’s the sound. the one that says i’m the best dick you’ve ever had. right? right, baby? tell me. tell me i’m better than anyone you’ve ever let near this sweet pussy.”

you moan, back arching. he whines, literally whines, like your approval is the only thing keeping him alive.

“please—please just say it. tell me i’m your favorite. tell me this cock is your favorite. tell me i ruined you for other men. tell me you forgot what it feels like to walk straight.”

you grab his face and pull him down to kiss you, hard, messy, open-mouthed and wet, your teeth knocking a little and your breath catching when he grinds into that exact spot inside you that makes you cry out his name again, and he groans, forehead falling to your shoulder.

“fuck, fuck, yes. that’s it, baby. say it again—no, scream it, moan it, tattoo it into my brain. god, i’m so fucking obsessed with you. you don’t even know. you don’t. i think about you 24/7. i check your pregnancy tracker app more than you do. i’m unwell. i’m feral.”

his hips move faster, deeper now, but not rough—he still holds your body like it’s made of glass, one hand bracing under your lower back to tilt your hips just right, the other rubbing slow, firm circles over your clit like he’s trying to make you finish before him and prove a point.

“wanna cum in you again,” he growls against your throat, “wanna fill you up more even though you’re already pregnant, like my dumb caveman brain doesn’t understand we already did it. it just wants to do it again, because it likes you like this. likes you glowing, round, leaking—fuck, baby, you’re leaking, i’m gonna go insane—”

“satoru,” you gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulder as your thighs start to tremble, “satoru, i—i’m gonna—”

“yes,” he hisses, pace erratic now, “do it, do it, cum on this cock, make it tight, milk me, baby, do it so good i forget my own damn name—”

you shatter under him with a cry that hits the ceiling, your body pulsing around him so hard he lets out a strangled noise, like he’s not sure if it’s a moan or a sob or both.

he falls apart seconds later, buried deep, coming with a broken gasp of your name and a string of barely intelligible worship like “so good, so pretty, made for me, mine, mine, mine�� until he finally collapses onto your chest, heart racing, sweat-slick, and completely, utterly gone.

a long beat of silence passes.

“…you good?” you murmur, stroking his hair.

he doesn’t move. just groans into your neck like he might cry.

“i think i left my soul in your pussy.”

you laugh.

“i’m serious,” he says, lifting his head with that wild, disheveled, utterly sexed-out look he wears so well. “if you don’t name our baby after this pussy i’m gonna be personally offended.”

“you want me to name our child… pussy satoru gojo?”

“well, i mean—middle name at least. or like a secret codename. for the groupchat.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

he grins like you’ve just married him.

“love you, baby. love you so much. let’s do it again in like fifteen minutes. or five. i’m stupid. i make bad decisions.”

“clearly.”

“i would literally die if you asked.”

“…fine.”

“i’m naming the second one ‘round two.’”

GETO SUGURU

“you know what you do to me?” geto growls into your mouth, lips slick from kissing, voice thick like smoke and syrup as he thrusts into you again—deep, slow, brutal. “you fuckin’ know what this pussy’s done to me, baby?”

you gasp—louder than you mean to, thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around his hips, nails clawing down his shoulders because there’s no logic in your body right now, just raw sensation. he laughs—a dark, low, chest-rumbling sound—and grabs your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek, not hard, just enough to keep you right there.

“oh, don’t go dumb on me now,” he coos, filthy and fond and absolutely feral. “we’re just gettin’ started, sweet thing. gotta give me that voice, yeah? lemme hear what my good girl sounds like when she’s pregnant and cockdrunk.”

you whimper, and he moans, like your breath is enough to push him right over the edge.

“that’s it,” he hisses, licking the corner of your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “fuck. fuck, you’re so good like this. all fucked out, all round and soft and warm for me—jesus, this body? i could live inside you. no house. no job. just this pussy, twenty-four-seven. put me on your goddamn lease.”

his hips snap forward hard, and the sound your body makes when he hits bottom is wet, obscene, absolutely unholy.

“listen to that,” he pants, dragging your leg higher over his shoulder, splitting you open wider. “god, you’re so fucking wet, baby—like you like when i fuck you like this. like you want me to ruin you. knock you up again, even though you’re already full.”

he palms your belly—his belly, really—with one big, gentle hand, cupping the firm swell like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. his thumb moves in lazy circles as he rocks into you, slower now, deeper, pressing against every spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

“you’re everything,” he says, softer now, reverent in the worst way, like he’s praying to the altar of your body while rearranging your insides. “everything. this body—fuck. your tits are bigger. hips too. got this glow, baby, you know that? like you were made to carry me. to take me. to breed for me.”

you clench around him so hard he stutters, eyes going wide, mouth falling open.

“oh fuck—fuck,” he moans, suddenly undone. “you like that? yeah? you like when i talk about putting a ring on this pussy? you like hearing how ruined i am for you?”

you nod, frantic and breathless, and he kisses you hard—sloppy and hungry—before dragging his lips down your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“gonna cum inside,” he growls against your skin. “gonna stuff you full and hold it in with my cock. keep it there. make sure every drop stays in, yeah?”

“suguru—” you cry, already close, voice breaking on his name like it’s the only thing you know anymore.

he fucking shudders.

“say it again,” he gasps. “say my name while i fill you up. say it like you want it.”

“suguru, suguru, i—fuck—i’m gonna—”

“yeah, baby,” he moans, gripping your hips, thrusts rougher now, faster. “cum on it. cum on this dick, show me how good i fucked you, lemme feel this pussy milk me dry—”

you tighten, legs locking around him, and then you're gone—clenching, shaking, falling apart under him while he watches you unravel with this fucking look on his face like you’re a miracle and a sin and the only thing that matters.

he cums right after, hips jerking as he empties into you with a loud, broken sound, like he’s dying and being reborn at the same time.

you nod, dazed. “you’re insane.”

for a long moment, all you hear is your heart racing and his breath—harsh, warm, uneven—ghosting across your skin. then, soft, “you okay?” he whispers, stroking your thigh, still inside you, not even thinking about moving yet.

“mhm,” he grins, kissing your temple. “insane for you. and for that pussy.”

you slap his chest halfheartedly.

he just laughs, still deep in you, still hardening again.

“round two?” he murmurs, voice all wicked sweetness. “or you want me to eat you ‘til you cry first?”

NANAMI KENTO

“i can be patient,” nanami grits out from behind you, voice low and sharp like he’s holding himself together with string and sheer willpower. “i can be—gentle.”

you’re on your side, belly cradled by soft pillows, one leg bent forward over his thigh as he moves behind you, slowly rocking into you like he’s afraid you’ll break if he goes too hard—like he doesn’t already know how filthy you get for him when he’s trying to behave.

and he’s trying. god, he is. his hand’s on your hip, warm and steady. the other one cups under your belly, like he’s shielding you even as he’s pushing deep, deep into you from behind.

“you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and reverent, brushing kisses to your shoulder. “i don’t want to hurt you. i want to take care of you. i want to make you feel good, not—”

you moan.

just a little. just a soft, breathy “kento—” as your fingers grip the sheets and your hips push back into him.

and that’s it.

the last thread of his control snaps.

he groans—growls, almost—and suddenly he’s pressing forward harder, deeper, his breath catching as he ruts into you like he’s been holding back for weeks.

“fuck,” he grits, forehead pressed to your back. “you’re so goddamn warm. too soft. too tight. i can’t—I’m trying to—shit—”

his grip on your hip tightens, dragging you back against him with every thrust now, and his hand slides from under your belly to your thigh, hiking your leg higher over his hip so he can push in even deeper.

“you feel that?” he groans into your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “feel how deep i am, sweetheart? god—i can’t be gentle when you sound like that. when you feel like this.”

you whimper, back arching, and he moans again—louder this time, raw and low and completely undone.

“you’re perfect,” he pants, hips snapping faster. “everything about you. this body—this sweet, wet little cunt—fuck, it’s made for me. even pregnant, you take me so well. better than anyone ever has.”

you choke on a moan and he presses his palm to your belly again, as if the feel of it grounds him.

“i think about you all day,” he confesses, fucking into you now with slow, brutal depth. “about this. about how you sound. about how you feel when i’m inside you, tight and hot and fluttering like you’re made to be full.”

he kisses your shoulder, your neck, his other hand sliding between your legs to find your clit—slow, careful, precise.

“come for me,” he whispers, mouth right against your ear, filthy and tender all at once. “come around me while i’m deep inside you. show me how good i make you feel.”

and you do—shaking, moaning, gasping his name like it’s the only thing you know, and he follows with a desperate groan, spilling into you so deep you feel the warmth spread through your belly, his body trembling against yours.

after, he doesn’t move. just stays inside you, one hand over your womb, the other tangled with yours in the sheets.

“…i was trying to be gentle,” he says quietly, embarrassed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

you hum, sated. “you tried.”

he sighs. “i’ll try again tomorrow.”

pause.

“after round two.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

“slow,” toji murmurs, his big hands gripping your hips just barely, letting you grind down on him with shaky control, his cock sheathed inside you and twitching like it’s barely surviving this torture. “take your time, baby. i’m good. i’m—fuck—i’m fine.”

he is not fine.

he’s seated on the couch, thighs spread wide, muscles tense as hell under your legs, back arched ever so slightly, jaw tight. you’re four months pregnant, round and glowing and gorgeous, your belly pressing against his abs as you roll your hips slow and sweet—just like he asked for. like he said he wanted.

and he’s dying.

“look at you,” he groans, eyes glued to the way you take him. “ridin’ me so good. so pretty. so fuckin’ wet. you were always tight, but now? now you’re perfect.”

your hands are on his shoulders, clinging. your breath catches every time your body takes him deeper, and he feels it—feels how warm you are, how your walls squeeze around him like you don’t want him to leave. it’s driving him insane.

“you said slow,” you remind him, voice breaking with a whimper as your rhythm falters.

and that’s his breaking point.

because your voice? shaking, breathless, wanting?

it wrecks him.

“fuck that,” toji snarls suddenly, surging forward, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you flush to his chest. “nah. no. fuck slow. i can’t. you sound like that, and expect me to wait? you’re outta your mind.”

he lifts his hips, thrusting up into you so hard your mouth drops open in a silent moan, hands scrambling for his chest as he sets a brutal pace from underneath.

“you wanted gentle?” he growls against your throat, licking and biting at your skin while he pistons into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. “you’re riding me, baby. i’m not gonna sit here like some saint while this tight fuckin’ pussy squeezes the life outta me.”

you cry out, and he grins, savage and wild and in love with the way your face goes all slack and overwhelmed.

“that’s it,” he pants, one hand gripping your ass, the other sliding between your bodies to rub tight, fast circles over your clit. “gimme that look. gimme those sounds. lemme hear how good i’m fucking my pregnant girl.”

you whine his name, and he loses it.

“say it again,” he groans. “fuckin’ say it, baby. tell me who put this baby in you.”

“you,” you cry, clinging to him, “you did—”

“damn right i did,” he growls, pounding up into you, your belly bouncing slightly between your bodies with each thrust, “and i’ll do it again. and again. keep you pregnant. keep you full. keep you so cockdrunk you forget how to fucking walk.”

your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt, your whole body spasming in his lap, and he catches you with a moan of pure worship, holding you tight as you milk every drop of his release from him.

“shit, baby,” he pants, hips twitching. “you were made for this. made to take me. made to carry me.”

he collapses back against the couch, pulling you with him, still inside you, cradling your body in his massive arms.

a beat of silence.

“that was you being gentle?” you ask, breathless.

he shrugs, smug. “i didn’t bend you over. that counts.”

you groan.

he kisses your shoulder and mutters, “round two, though? i’m not holdin’ back.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

“slow,” he grits out, jaw clenched, breath shaking as he presses his hips flush to your ass, thick cock buried deep and throbbing inside your soaking heat. “we’re going slow, sweetheart. we’re taking our time. i’m not gonna break you.”

he says that, but his hands are already digging into your thighs, thumbs pressed to the crease between your cheeks and your legs like he’s trying to brand you with his grip. you’re four months pregnant, hips rounder, belly starting to show—and you’re on all fours, arms trembling, moaning into the pillow with every slow, too-deep roll of his hips.

“you good?” he mutters, pretending to breathe through it like he’s not the one seconds from blacking out. “you okay, baby?”

you nod, gasping, “yes—yes, ‘kuna—feels so good—”

and that breaks him.

“fuckin’—shit,” he growls, slamming into you with a sharp, wet slap, and you cry out, head dropping, body jolting forward from the force. “don’t say my name like that. don’t moan for me like that and expect me to stay sane.”

he grips your hips hard, pulling you back into every brutal thrust now, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“you were made for this,” he snarls, staring down at the way your body takes him, slick and tight and fluttering around him like you like being used. “look at this greedy little cunt. fuckin’ dripping. goddamn soaking me. you like getting fucked with my baby in you, huh?”

you sob out a moan, and his grin turns feral.

“you want me gentle?” he pants, fucking into you so hard your thighs shake. “or you want me to fuck you like i own you?”

you can’t even answer. you’re too wrecked already, too full, too overwhelmed by the pressure and heat and the way he hits that deep spot inside you like he knows exactly what it does.

“that’s what i thought,” he hisses. “fuckin’ moaning like you need it rough. like you need me to snap. you want it, don’t you? want to be fucked so hard you forget where you are. want to feel me dripping outta you all day like a good little cumdump.”

his hand snakes around your waist, palm spreading over your bump, possessive and so wrong and reverent all at once.

“this?” he mutters, low and filthy in your ear as he leans over your back, “this is mine. you’re mine. and this pussy? fuck, this pussy’s the tightest shit i’ve ever had. i could stay buried in you for hours. days.”

your legs buckle as your orgasm builds, loud and fast and impossible to stop. he feels it.

“there it is,” he growls, fucking into you harder, faster, punishing. “you’re close, huh? gonna cream around me like the perfect little thing you are? let me feel it. let me feel you lose it.”

you shatter—screaming, shaking, convulsing around his cock—and sukuna doesn’t slow down. he snarls, slams into you one last time, and groans as he cums deep, spilling inside you with a raw, broken moan like he’s being torn apart.

he stays there—buried, panting, shaking, his chest pressed to your back, both hands cradling your belly now like he’s apologizing with touch.

then:

“…i was trying to behave,” he mutters, voice raspy, and you wheeze out a laugh.

“you said ‘slow’ and then folded in thirty seconds.”

“yeah, well,” he grins, cock still twitching inside you, “you were moaning. that’s cheating.”

he kisses your shoulder, pulls out with a groan, and watches his cum spill from you with the most self-satisfied, absolutely feral look you’ve ever seen.

“round two’s gonna be worse,” he promises.

“worse how?”

“i’m not gonna pretend to be nice next time.”

SHIU KONG

“you feel that, mama?” shiu murmurs low, breath thick with smoke as he exhales slowly, cock buried deep inside you from behind, dragging it out slow just to watch your legs shake. “feel how this pussy keeps suckin’ me back in? like she misses me every time i pull out.”

your cheek’s pressed to the desk, fingers curled around the edge, thighs trembling. you try to say something—but he thrusts back in, sharp and deep, and your words turn into a soft, broken moan.

“fuck, yeah,” he grins, watching the way your back arches. “that’s my good girl. takin’ it like a champ even with my baby in your belly. still greedy. still so tight. you got no shame, huh? gettin’ fucked over my desk like this?”

you whimper, and he groans, gripping your hips tighter, his tone dropping deeper.

“god, look at you. four months pregnant and still so fuckin’ sexy. makin’ me obsessed. makin’ me stupid. you know what it does to me when you walk around like this, belly all round, tits all full, smellin’ like sweat and sweetness and mine?”

he grinds his hips forward again, harder now, making your body jolt. you moan his name, voice wrecked, and he smirks around his cigarette.

“there we go,” he breathes. “that’s it, mama. keep callin’ me like that. makes me wanna knock you up all over again, see how many times i can stretch this body before you break.”

he pulls out halfway and slams back in, deep and deliberate, the desk creaking beneath you. you gasp, and his hand slides down your spine, warm and heavy, keeping you flat against the desk.

“y’know,” he says, smoke curling from his mouth as he fucks you in slow, ruthless strokes, “i tell myself every time i’ll go easy on you. that i’ll be nice, treat my baby mama with respect.”

he laughs, low and wrecked.

“and then you bend over like this, ass up, pussy drippin’ down your thighs, beggin’ for it—an’ suddenly i’m back to being a filthy fuck who can’t stop.”

you cry out as his hips slam into you again, and he moans—loud and shameless.

“you feel that, mama?” he pants. “that’s my cock hitting the back of your fuckin’ throat from the wrong direction. you’re so full right now—goddamn, i can feel you pulse.”

his hand slips down, two fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle.

“c’mon, baby,” he urges, voice hoarse and wrecked, “give it to me. let this cock ruin you. let daddy hear how good he’s fuckin’ his perfect little mama.”

you cum with a cry, clenching around him so hard he curses, nearly drops the cigarette, and loses rhythm entirely as he groans, slamming into you once, twice, again—before burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a rough, filthy moan of your name.

he stays there, panting, one hand on your belly, the other sliding up your back to your neck, grounding you both.

then—

“...we’re doin’ this again after you nap,” he mutters, pulling his cigarette back between his lips, grinning like a devil. “mama needs to be real full tonight.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

“that’s it, mama,” higuruma groans, voice low and rough as he presses deep into you, eyes locked on the curve of your stomach where your bodies meet, “just like that. let me in. let me make you feel good.”

your thighs tremble where they rest on his shoulders, and he tightens his grip around your ankles, palms warm and broad, grounding you as he starts to move—slow at first, like he’s savoring every inch of you, every slick drag of your walls squeezing him in.

“fuck,” he breathes, watching your face contort as you gasp, “you’re so tight. how are you still this tight, mama? this pussy was made to milk me.”

you whimper, one hand cradling your belly, the other tangled in the sheets as he rocks into you with long, deep strokes. your bump rises slightly with every thrust, your body pliant and flushed and already soaked from the way he touched you before this even started.

and he adores it.

he adores you.

“look at you,” he mutters, pace growing faster without meaning to, “legs up, belly out, takin’ my cock like a good mama. my perfect mama.”

you moan his name—ragged and helpless—and his eyes darken, hips snapping harder.

“that’s it,” he growls, leaning in until your knees are almost beside your head, his cock reaching so deep now. “say it again. let me hear how good i fuck my mama.”

“hiromi,” you gasp, back arching, “feels so good—too deep—”

he groans—loud, wrecked—and fucks into you harder.

“you can take it,” he hisses, lips grazing your ear, “you’re so strong, baby. carrying our child, takin’ this dick like it’s yours—‘cause it is. this cock belongs to you. every part of me does.”

your eyes roll back as he slams into that perfect spot inside you, over and over, his pace no longer controlled—he’s feral, now, panting and moaning, eyes flicking down to where you’re stretched open around him, cum-slick and pulsing.

“gonna fill you up again,” he whispers, reverent and wild all at once. “stuff you full, even though you’re already carrying mine. fuck, mama—this pussy needs it. she’s beggin’ for it.”

you’re trembling, legs shaking against his shoulders, and he grabs under your knees, folding you further, giving you nowhere to go—just take it, every inch, every praise-dripping thrust.

“cum for me,” he commands, rough and soft all at once. “cum with me inside. let me feel you. let me feel how good this pussy knows her man.”

you cry out as your orgasm hits, tightening around him like a vice, and his whole body shudders.

he groans your name, hips jerking, and spills inside you with a low, desperate moan.

“fuck, mama—fuck. you’re everything.”

he stays buried for a long moment, breathing hard, watching your body twitch beneath him—flushed, used, loved—and then lowers your legs gently, kissing your knees, your belly, your lips.

“did so well,” he whispers. “my mama’s so good for me.”

you hum sleepily, still dazed. “you went crazy.”

he smiles, brushing your hair back from your face.

“i am crazy,” he says, kissing your forehead, “for you.”

[kuidore]

Zoeystery headcanons ✧ KPOP Demon Hunters ✧ Zoey x Mystery

✧ ultimate yapper girl x listener boy

✧ He thought she was cute the moment he saw her bouncing her shoulders to soda pop while Rumi and Mira glared at her

✧ he’s not shy, just quiet. he just isn’t used to being human, and it tires him out a lot more than the others.

✧ He slowly feels like he’s actually relearning his humanity with Zoey, not just going through the motions of a human life like he had felt doing the idol thing

✧ Zoey gets anxious that people aren’t listening to her if they get too quiet. She’s used to being mid-ramble, asking a question, and not getting a response because the person tuned out and she didn’t realize

✧ after the first time she asks Mystery if he’s listening, he starts letting out noises of acknowledgement to reassure her while she’s talking so she doesn’t have to lose her train of thought

✧ he wants her to know that he’s listening very intently, and will sometimes even just say it out loud when he doesn’t have a better comment to make

✧ Zoey thinks it’s adorable, and she slowly feels less and less uncomfortable rambling for hours about television or animals or the songs she wanted to write

✧ She eventually just naturally stops apologizing for rambling or being too over the top, to him and to other people

✧ He starts getting better at conversations, but only with her. He asks social questions he used to think were stupid or boring or useless, because she’s the only one whose answers he actually wants to hear

✧ Mystery remembers nothing from his actual life on earth before the demon realm, and that doesn’t change even as he gets more comfortable as a ‘human’

✧ He couldn’t care less. He outright tells Zoey that it “leaves more room in my brain for the memories we make”

✧ she has to excuse herself from the room for a moment and yell into a pillow about how cute he is

✧ He can hear her doing it. when she comes back with a notebook he’s smiling wider than she thought he was even capable of

✧ she sits him down and they make a bucket list of everything she can think of that she considers “necessary to the human experience”, no matter how small

✧ she feels bad about being *excited* over his amnesia, but she can’t help but chatter about how she was going to be ‘introducing him to all this new stuff!’

✧ items on this list include but are not limited to; seeing the ocean in person, finding a really cool rock that you wanna keep forever, going to the bathhouse, and spending an entire day on the couch

✧ Mystery doesn’t really see what’s interesting about any of it, but he agrees because he wants Zoey to go with him

✧ He likes it, mostly because *she* likes it. He could be literally stranded in the arctic, if Zoey was finding a way to have fun he would be able to do it too. His number one idea of ‘fun’ is just… being around her.

✧ Mystery constantly wants to have Zoey on his lap/between his legs/sitting in literally any position where he can wrap his entire body around her from behind and rest his chin on her shoulder.

✧ he falls asleep like this fairly often. Zoey calls him her weighted blanket

✧ in general they both sleep a lot, they take afternoon naps together almost every day

✧ After enough time he’s got basically everything human down besides the ‘not barking at people who get too close to Zoey for his comfort’

✧ that one is an active choice. He has absolutely no intention of stopping that one

✧ bad saja boy became bad Mystery fairly quickly

✧ He pouts every time she says it. At first she felt bad about it, but eventually she started to find it cute

✧ he’ll sit with his head in her lap while she writes lyrics. She’s always patting his head and playing with his hair while mumbling about how soft it is.

✧ one day he realizes the whole time she’s been avoiding his bangs, and he grabs her hand and moves them away himself so she can see his face when she isn’t actively trying to kill him

✧ “You already know what I look like. I don’t care. If it’s just you.”

✧ She’s so giddy she grabs him and kisses him for the first time, and they’re both a little shocked by it

✧ it was the first time she saw him blush and she immediately became determined to make him do it as much as possible.

✧ She already has a notebook of things he likes and dislikes so she can remember (she has ones for Rumi and Mira too obvi)

✧ she adds a section to Mystery’s for things that make him blush

✧ she’s studying this guy like a bug and he secretly likes it

✧ He keeps the bangs cause most of the time he’s just so unable to control his own facial expressions that he would probably get into a fight in public

✧ but he starts pinning them back when he’s with Zoey

[vanillasweetpie]

🥎⋆ catcher's little secret ⭒˚.⋆ Jax x reader

tags: nsfw, blowjob in public, humiliation, Jax wears a maid outfit, dom!Jax, public setting but no one knows (probably..except Caine), throatfucking, established relationship

“you’ve got about three seconds to wipe that smirk off your face.” Jax said with irritation.

but you didn’t. “lookin’ good, Jax!!” the words purred off your tongue as your eyes dragged shamelessly down the line of his long legs in those fucking stockings.

he looked murderous. worse still when you cooed, sticking your tongue tongue out pretty enough for it to look suggestive.

a violent urge to tear apart the next neck breathing in his direction pulsed through Jax. frills, bows, the entire lacy dress clung to his frame looked like a punishment sent from god. if, of course, Caine's ai brains could be called that. yet the outfit wasn’t the worst of it. worse than the public humiliation, was the knowledge that you had voted for it too. you, with the smug little smile and the eyes that glittered when he turned red from fury. or wild embarrassment.

“think you’re clever, huh?” Jax snarled, seizing your wrist hard enough to make your joints scream. “we’ll see how funny it feels choking on this.”

not a full minute passed before he yanked you behind the bleachers, muttering death threats under his breath, calling you every name but sweet.

down in the digital grass, you were dropped, well, half shoved, onto your knees. still mouthing curses up at him, “you look ridiculous”, “this was Gangle’s best idea“ and finally ”can’t believe you’re hard in a f%$!#king maid costume.” but even that was said on a shiver, because the truth was too obvious and Jax pointed it out.

“yeah? and i can’t believe you’re wet for it.” he hissed, pulling his cock out from under the hem of that ridiculous maid outfit. it slapped hot against your face, already twitching with barely contained aggression. Jax grinned as his palm cupped your jaw, smearing pre-cum across your lips as you turned your face and tried to pretend you weren’t throbbing for it. “soo, gonna keep yappin’ or finally do what you’re made for?”

“%$!# you,” you spat, but opened anyway, jaw aching already from how he fed it to you, so smug about the way you whimpered when it hit the back of your throat.

Jax didn’t start rough. no, that would’ve been too easy. he rolled his hips in slow, deep drags, watching you take it, placing his hand on your head. “that’s it,” he groaned. “pretty little %$!#’’s mouth all stretched out. look at you. so stupid for me you forgot you were mad, huh?”

you shook your head and tried to glare, but it was breaking apart fast. in your defeat, your eyes glazed, drool sliding slick down your chin, pooling at your collar. looking so pathetic with his cock in your mouth as he fucked the fight out of you, especially your stupid mockery, all of it dissolved. your palms braced against his clothed thighs, shaking, whole body rocked forward with each thrust.

oh digital stars, he made you gag hard enough to erase the shame of standing in front of everyone wearing fucking lace.

“mmph— g-god, you’re such an asshole,” you gurgled around him, spit flicking as you pulled back for air. “%$!# hate you—“

“no you don’t.” Jax grinned, yanking you back down until your nose pressed into lace again. “i know you love this. love gagging on me like a little toy. awwh, what should i call you? my stupid little cheerleader? how’s that for funny?” he hissed, fucking your warm mouth harder. “was it hilarious when i shoved my %$!# down your throat?”

the stupid lace from his skirt brushed your cheeks as he shoved all the way in again, choking you so deep your ears rang. you didn’t resist. poor thing you were, just let him finish with a grunt and a groan, one hand forcing your head down, the other gripping your throat as he flooded your mouth with thick release. like always, Jax gave no warning. dumping it inside you or down your throat, he finished wherever he pleased, like the selfish prick he was.

you tried to swallow but failed, coughed around it, his cum dripping down your chin in messy strings.

“HEY!” kinger’s voice rang out, calling your name and you rolled your eyes, groaning. “you’re up next!”

Jax was still panting, but with an evil and mocking smile on his smug face. not even paying attention to his outfit anymore, skirt crooked, while you were dripping, desperate for more, for continuation, please please please, you needed him inside now, tongue lolling, blinking up at him, so dazed you couldn’t remember what sport you were supposed to be playing.

“better get out there, baby,” he murmured, smoothing your hair with one hand, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. “don’t trip on the way back.”

[ichorai]

xerox ; robert reynolds ; part four.

part one. | part two. | part three.

pairing ; robert (bob) reynolds x reader, thunderbolts & reader

synopsis ; you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, angst, slowburn, the beginnings of romance

warnings / includes ; violence, talks of mental health, mention of jacking off, human experimentation, child abuse, reader has the ability to split into multiple bodies (think dupli-kate from invincible), foul language, oh no i made the void sexy!

a/n ; sorry for the wait! this was meant to be a longer part but i honestly didn't want to wait to post HAHA, but i really hope you guys like it !!! guys i've gotten so attached to xerox as an oc you have nooo idea

main masterlist. read on ao3!

xerox's face claim :)

John’s morning started off as routinely as ever. Get out of bed at six-thirty AM sharp. Brush teeth. Stretches. Jogging. Muscle training at the gym. Scroll through hate tweets as he cools down. Shower. Then, finally, breakfast. 

He made his way to the kitchen. To none of his surprise, you were already there—or a copy of you was—sitting at the farthest end of the island, completing a page of that ridiculously thick puzzle book of yours and nursing a mug of hot tea. Bob was beside you, hunched over what John spotted to be a Rubix cube. It was nearly solved.

John only grunted in response when Bob said, “Morning, Walker.”

He grabbed a box of raisin bran from the pantry (shoving aside multiple Avengers Wheaties boxes for it) and served himself a bowl. Then, when he made his way to the fridge—

“Where is the milk?” he asked, immediately turning to you two.

You didn’t bother to peer up from your book. “There was barely any left. We gave the last of it to Alpine.”

“You assholes,” John snarked. “You gave the last of my milk to the stupid cat?”

“It’s not yours,” Bob replied, defensive. “It’s for the entire team.”

“Well, what am I supposed to have with my cereal, then?” John hissed, much akin to a toddler. 

“Yogurt?” Bob volunteered. “There’s Greek on the second shelf—”

“I don’t want yogurt,” Walker bit back as if Bob had just offered him mouse droppings.

This time, you looked up from your book to shoot him an unimpressed glare. “You won’t die if you skip cereal for a day. Make some toast, or something. Besides—Bob and I are going grocery shopping in a bit. We’re low on eggs, and Ava wants cucumbers. If you ask nicely… we can get you some more milk, too.”

John muttered something under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked with a pointed look, exaggeratingly cupping a hand behind your ear. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Yes, yeah, get me some milk. Jesus.” 

“Magic word?” Bob asked, looking all too smug.

John scowled. The two of you were so annoying together. “Please,” he gritted out. 

Both you and Bob exchanged amused glances, then returned to your devices, leaving John to pour his dry cereal back into the box and grab two slices of whole wheat bread to toast, grumbling about his ruined routine all the way.

Bob felt a little swell of pride at the bottom of his chest every time you accepted one of the fruits he’d offered you. It wasn’t like he could tell which apples were better than the rest—he was honestly just picking at random—but the ones you rejected and put back onto the piles were said to be bruised, misshapen, or squishy. All things he thought were quite normal qualities for fruit, but he trusted your fruit judgment.

“What’s wrong with the squishy ones?” Bob asked, picking up an apple you tossed to the side and inspecting its waxy red peel. He felt bad for the fruits discarded for seemingly asinine reasons.

The sour face you pulled made Bob’s heart trip over itself. “Just trust me. I had to have a lot of squishy fruit during my time in Madripoor. It either means they’re rotten, rotting, or they’ve got worms wriggling around inside.”

Bob blanched. Suddenly he didn’t feel all that bad anymore.

After all the fruits, vegetables, proteins, and generally healthier options were tossed into the cart, the two of you went on a frenzy grabbing junk food to your heart’s content: chips and sweets and frozen fried foods galore. The two of you stood in front of the vast refrigerated section full to the brim with dozens of options for ice cream. 

“Raspberry s’more swirl?” Bob ventured.

You wrinkled your nose in distaste. 

“What?” he asked.

“That sounds so American. And, yes, I do mean that as an insult.”

The two of you toddled out of the aisle juggling half a dozen tubs of varying flavors, none of which being the Swirly S'mores or whatever it was.

After picking up the last of what was on the list, Bob began to unload the groceries onto the conveyor belt. The cashier asked for your autograph with a nervous grin, brandishing a pen and notepad for you to scribble on. You never really bothered to come up with an autograph—you didn’t need one for the first three decades of your life, and now all of a sudden everyone around each corner of the street was asking for one. Just the other day, you gingerly signed a sweaty guy’s forehead, and the ink was already running down his face before he could turn and jog away. Ava called him a pig, and you could only pray that he was far enough not to hear.

You haphazardly scribbled XEROX in large capitol letters across the paper, hoping it would suffice. The cashier made no complaint and pocketed the autograph with a giddy air about her.

“Sorry if this is weird to ask—can you split? I’ve always wanted to see it in person.” 

You blinked. Then, with a small, relenting smile, you duplicated, and your copy waved awkwardly. The cashier snapped a quick photo of you and your copy without even bothering to ask—you hadn’t even seen her whip out her phone—and you could feel Bob’s concerned eyes bore into you. You didn’t want to make it a big deal, so you silently paid for the groceries (with one of Valentina’s credit cards), bumped Bob’s shoulders with yours, and stuffed the goods into the reusable Avengers bags Alexei insisted you take with you. It was embarrassing using your own merch, but you tried not to think about it too much.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked once the two of you slipped back into the car, having loaded the food into the back. “That was…”

“Our new normal,” you sighed, pinching the space between your brows. “I mean—it’s fine, I guess. They’re just excited. I get it. My face is never getting scrubbed from the internet now, though.”

“Yeah,” Bob said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel you.”

Yesterday, Walker showed him a tiktok of the Void in the sky, crashing helicopters into buildings. Bob watched the screen with a small, shameful frown, until you tugged him away insisting that he helped you reach for a cup too high for you to reach. Of course, he knew that you were more than capable of getting it yourself, but he liked how you made him feel useful. Plus—he liked how your hand cuffed his shoulder in gratitude once he handed the cup to you.

“I love grabbing groceries with you,” he blurted out.

You glanced over at him, drumming your hands along the steering wheel. Then, you looked back at the road and smiled—the particular smile that made Bob’s insides melt like putty. “I love spending time with you too, Pal.”

Bucky Barnes didn’t care for many things. Flashy trends the new generation kept cycling through. Texting etiquette, or his lack thereof. The dozens of settings on washing machines nowadays. Ava’s propensity to phase straight through his room because it was a “short cut” to the gym. 

But one thing he did care about—a considerable amount more than anything else, honestly—was his cat, Alpine.

So it took a great amount of reluctance to hand her over to you and Bob for the weekend. He had to fly out for a last minute undercover mission, and he couldn’t leave Alpine all alone in his apartment for days in a row. Usually he would leave Alpine with Sam, but the two were in a weird funk as of late.

“I don’t give her more than three pieces of Whiskers’ Delights a day,” Bucky warned, having a nagging suspicion that you weren’t really listening to him. “I don’t want to spoil her.”

Your fingers curled beneath Alpine’s chin, cooing unintelligible noises. Bucky rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“Just don’t overfeed her. Make sure you leave out a bowl of water for her, okay? And if she starts scratching stuff up, just pick her up and put her in front of the scratching post. I’ve been trying to train her to stop ruining my furniture.”

“Got it,” Bob said, before joining you in your hums and coos to the purring feline. 

“See you later, Alpine,” said Bucky, a rare sort of warmth seeping into his tone. 

Alpine flicked her tail at her father, then rubbed her fuzzy white head against Bob’s sweatshirt.

Bucky grunted out something that sounded suspiciously similar to, “Traitor.” He stalked towards the elevator with a deep-set scowl. Though, once he turned to press the button, he caught sight of you tugging Alpine into your lap, pressed up right beside Bob, your head resting on his. The man beside you was as red as a beetroot. 

And Bucky wasn’t stupid. Despite his callous nature to the rest of the new “Avengers”, he found that he was rooting for the two of you. You would be good for each other. He wouldn’t be caught dead ever admitting it, though. 

“Where’s Bob? You two are usually glued to the hip.” Ava asked out of the blue, startling you so much that you immediately split into two copies. Two pairs of your shocked eyes glared at her.

“Ava!” you snapped crossly, before reabsorbing your copy. “You gotta stop phasing into our rooms without knocking first. And Bob went out with Yelena—apparently she needed him for something.”

The woman plopped down onto the couch beside you, languidly crossing her arms. “Right.”

You let the silence settle between the two of you, picking up the book you’d been reading and carrying on. Then, feeling her fidget beside you, you asked, “Is there a reason you’re here or do you just want to spend time with me? Because you could’ve just asked.”

The face she pulled was dour, but fleeting. “Well, I just—I had a question. It’s stupid.”

“Mhm.”

“You know how the both of us were… raised in labs our whole lives, y’know the entire schtick.”

“... Yes?”

Now visibly uncomfortable, Ava tugged at the collar of her suit. “I just—I wanted to know… how you deal with it. The memories of it all. It’s just that you make it look so easy. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me?” you said in utter disbelief, bookmarking your page and setting the book aside. “I make it look easy? Are you sure about that?” You thought about your near panic attack two days ago in the training room that left you breathless and spiraling, over nothing in particular. 

This made Ava scoff. “Okay, relatively speaking. In general, you’re still pretty fucked up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks.” Then, after a moment of thinking about it, you told her, “I think it helps that I can talk about it now. Not only to a therapist but to—friends.” The word felt foreign on your tongue, but it left a warm, homey feeling there, as well. “The puzzles help, too. Reminders that I’m safe and in control now.”

As she listened, Ava drew her knees up to her chest, chin resting over them. “I keep getting these memories. It’s like they attack me, and I—physically can’t breathe or move. Do you get those?”

“All the time,” you whispered.

“How do you stop it?”

You shook your head with a sad smile. “I don’t. I can’t just forget it all and push it away. I just… learn to live with it, learn to manage it. All the pain I’ve experienced.” You hesitated. “And inflicted.”

Pensive, Ava asked, “So you just—ride it out?”

“Not really. The past isn’t something that’ll just go away one day. It’s more of an acceptance, forgiveness, and moving on sort of thing. At least that’s what Janice tells me.”

“Who the hell’s Janice?”

“My therapist,” you said, giving Ava a nudge. “I can ask her if she can refer you to someone? Or we can just… talk to each other if that’s too much for now. I’m a good listener.”

With a brow raised, Ava retorted, “No, you’re not. You didn’t listen to a single thing Bucky said at last week’s meeting.”

 “It’s the same shit he says every week.”

“Doesn’t help when you and Bob are whispering and giggling in each other’s ears, too,” she deadpanned, making your cheeks flush with heat. “You two are like little schoolgirls.”

Which was funny of her to say, considering neither of you ever really went to a proper school.

You wrinkled your nose and stuck your tongue out at her, to which she only flipped you off with both her middle fingers. “You’re deflecting!”

“That something your therapist taught you, as well?”

“Yes, actually. Apparently I do it a lot, too.”

Ava grunted in irritation. Then, finally, she said with great reluctance, “I think that sounds nice. The talking thing. With you.”

You smiled an awfully wide smile. “Yeah?”

“Don’t expect it to happen all the time.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a busy woman.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t want it to be a sobfest or a pity party. I just want to—talk.”

“I know, Ava. I got you.”

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll gouge your eyes out with a hot spoon.”

“Mhm. Wait—not even Bob?”

Ava glared at you. 

“I’m joking!” you exclaimed, hands raised, though the idea of not debriefing every minute detail of your day to Bob seemed less than appealing. But, as hard as it was to admit to yourself, you cared for Ava, and you wanted her to feel safe to speak to you in confidence. “We can talk whenever you want, Ava. Real casual.”

“Will you tell me about your… feelings and shit, too? So it won’t feel like—”

“A therapy session?” you finished for her, smothering a laugh. “Yeah, definitely. Trust me, I’m not qualified to be a therapist. The nurses at my facility sure liked to trauma dump on me whenever they drew my blood, though…”

In all honesty, Bob wasn’t even supposed to be here. Yelena could’ve brought just about any of the Avengers along with her—but now that all of them were ultra famous—save for Bob—he was simply the safest bet. Plus it helped to factor in that he was practically indestructible. It was meant to be a very quick and easy stealth mission, anyway. Bob was going to create a diversion with the scientists, who were then going to alert the guards, and Yelena would sneak into the underground lab, grab a vial or two of the poisonous drug, and high-tail back to headquarters for some nerdy guy in a labcoat to start fixing up an antidote in case someone decided to commit some casual bioterrorism. 

And as you dove into the stories of your past, Ava could feel the weight on her chest lighten. Not completely, not even a lot—but just a little. And maybe that was enough for now.

—

Of course, she should’ve known that not everything would go according to plan.

It was partially both of their fault. Bob fucked up by taking the wrong turn and swinging straight into the lab Yelena was currently swiping from, and Yelena fucked up by trying to push him out the way he came instead of helping him up the vent she had busted in with. She wasn’t very used to working with others—particularly those who had virtually no prior training in the field.

There was a loud crash as Bob careened into a metal cart with her crowding motions, and a few vials precariously wobbled in their holders, before toppling to the ground. Glass shards rained all over the floor, and a puff of green smoke filled the air between the two. Yelena danced back several steps, grabbing Bob by the shoulder and yanking him away, as well. She covered her nose and mouth with her palm, and Bob copied her motions with a slight delay.

Panic settled in Yelena’s chest. She thought, at first, that it had been the poison. She was going to die in a lab choking on her own vomit, and Bob would just be forced to watch. 

But then—Yelena smelled it before Bob did. Familiar. It was sweet, almost. Like the free peppermint candies you would get at a nice restaurant after a pricey meal, or those flavored flossing picks Yelena liked to buy from the pharmacy three blocks away from her old apartment. 

In the case file she read, it was said that the poison was gaseous and was instantaneous in its harm. But Yelena felt completely fine. She glanced over at Bob, who also looked to be alright, if not a little wide-eyed and sweaty. Which was normal for him. 

If that wasn’t poison, what was it? Yelena cautiously removed her hand from her face. 

“I don’t think we’re going to die,” she said. “Which is good, because I really don’t want to die before finishing the new season of this crappy reality show where hot people try not to mash their groins together. Seriously, I cannot believe non-asexual people are real.” 

There was a moment of silence. Yelena and Bob blinked at each other.

“Oh, wow. I did not mean to say any of that. Weird. What we broke must be some sort of gaseous version of a truth serum. No wonder it smelled familiar—we used to use a liquid version in the Red Room. Are you okay, Bob? How are you feeling? Sorry I pushed you into the cart.”

Bob glanced over at himself, as if checking to make sure he wasn’t actually impaled or stabbed or on fire. “I’m, uh—I think so? I’m feeling really thirsty.”

“You know what, if we get out of here alive, I’ll buy you whatever drink you want from K-Mart.”

“Okay. God, I knew I shouldn’t have come. I fucked it all up. Literally anyone would have been a better pick. Xerox or Ava or, hell, even Walker—”

 “Okay, well, first of all, it’s not all your fault. We both fucked up. Second, I picked you, so—nothing we can do about it now,” said Yelena matter-of-factly. She strode across the lab to grab a stool for Bob to climb on so he could shimmy into the vents. “And Walker is too busy doing Buzzfeed puppy interviews to join me, which was a shock to me—I didn’t even know they still did those. Ava claimed a break day, and Xerox had a therapy—”

At the sound of your name, Bob suddenly blurted out the first thought that came to mind, “I think I’m in love with Xerox.” 

One second. Then two. 

Bob slapped his hands over his mouth with wide eyes when he registered what he’d just said. “Oh, God. What the fuck? I didn’t want to say that! Why did I say that? Truth serum, I know! But I—Wh—? I didn’t want you to know that yet?! Please don’t tell Xerox!” With each and every word he said, the tone of his voice grew increasingly squeakier.

The blonde assassin eyed her friend with an incredulous look. “... Yeah, Bob, we all knew that. You aren’t subtle at all.” With a scoff, Yelena gestured to the stool. “Now get on, Mr. Lovebird. The guards will be here any second.”

Bob’s expression was cemented into a horrified twist. As he clambered onto the chair with wobbly legs, he began to pull himself up into the vents. “Does Xerox know?” he called out, wincing when he heard his voice echo back through the cavernous metal tunnels now encompassing him.

“I don’t think so,” Yelena said from below, following his lead and slipping into the vents. “But, honestly, you should say something as soon as possible—unless you want Alexei to blurt it out on live television to appease the fans.”

“What—?!”

Before he could finish, the lab burst open, crawling with armed guards in gas masks. The lone stool sitting just beneath an open vent was more obvious than a flashing neon sign saying: IN HERE! 

Gunfire began to ring out below. Yelena and Bob scrambled onto their hands and knees and shuffled off as quickly as they could. Honestly, Yelena wasn’t too worried for Bob—after all, he was just about invincible. She, however, wasn’t the least bit bulletproof. So when Bob tugged her to move up in front of him so he could act as shield between her and the bullets, Yelena neither complained nor protested.

“Hey, Bob?” she called over the gunfire, which was beginning to fade to faint plinks behind them as they put more distance between them and the soldiers.

Bob flinched at a particularly loud gunshot. “Yeah?”

“I’m really happy for you.”

Creased confusion. “For—for being shot at?”

“What? No! For Xerox. You deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

And Bob, even though he was quite literally being hunted and gunned down, couldn’t help but feel a small spark of happiness in his chest, even if it was accompanied with the putrid stink of shame. He would be thinking of Yelena’s words the whole way out of the lab, the brief fight with the soldiers once exiting the vents, and in the car ride back to base. When you greeted him at the door, he didn’t hesitate to return the hug you had flung at him, running his warm palms over your cold forearms. He met Yelena’s knowing eyes over your shoulder.

He wanted to tell you. He did, of course he did. But—there was fear, puppeteered by the Void. Paralyzing. Stinging. Biting. 

Time. That’s what he needed. So he wouldn’t tell you, at least not for now, when everything was so good. He didn’t want to fuck up one of the few good things he’d just got in his life yet. Even if it felt like his chest was about to cleave itself into two at the thought of not telling you the truth about his feelings.

There was hardly a night that Bob spent where he wasn’t tossing and turning when trying to go to sleep. Shirt shirked off because he was so hot, and then promptly put back on because the feeling of the silk sheets against his bare skin irked him. Pacing across his room one second, then curled up in the center of his bed the next. Hands in his hair, then balled by his sides. Tried counting sheep, but they would always end up mutilated and bleating sad noises, so he stopped doing that. Pillows, no pillows. Rain noises, lofi beats, whale sounds, complete silence. Reading, scrolling through his phone, hell—even trying to jack off. 

Nothing worked. 

And so, exhausted beyond relief and near the brink of tears, Bob swiftly left his room and without thinking, he found himself automatically heading towards yours down the hall. He stood in front of your closed door, swaying on the spot. Too tired to think straight, but still had enough sense not to barge into your room unannounced. 

He did this often. Would stand in front of your room like a forlorn dog that had been kicked out—listening for signs of life in there. He would sometimes hear music softly playing, your soft murmurs to yourself, or, his favorite tinkering peals of laughter. More often than not, he would turn right back around and go back to his room, smacking himself in the head and thinking himself a loser for needing someone else to go to sleep. Because that was exactly who Bob was—a loser.

The few times he brought himself to knock on your door, however—he didn’t exactly feel like a loser when you smiled at him, hands immediately tugging him in, excited to show him a painting you’d been working on or Alpine curled up in the corner of your room. You made him feel wanted. Like he wasn’t a complete nuisance to be bothering you this late at night. The two of you would often accidentally fall asleep together. On the bed, on the floor—once even in the kitchen when you both meandered your way there for some midnight snacks and never left.

This time, Bob felt the shame weigh extra heavy as he knocked on your door. What if you were busy? Or you were tired, and not in the mood to see him? Or you didn’t want to have company? Or that he was invading your privacy? Or you—

The door swung open, and you were rubbing one of your eyes with a fist, blinking at him with an adorable sort of grogginess that only came with—

Oh, God, you’d been sleeping, Bob realized with complete mortification and embarrassment. Ugh, he was such an idiot. 

“Palindrome,” you said, voice slightly hoarse from your rest. Despite Bob’s stiff demeanor, you pushed the door open wider. “Come in. I’m glad you came. I was having a really bad dream.”

“Oh,” he said, all soft and troubled. He stepped in, immediately hit with the jasmine-scented air. You’d bought the diffusor a few days ago and the aroma was just heavenly. Bob could immediately feel his tense shoulders loosen a smidge. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, waving your hands dismissively. One of them fell on his arm, guiding him to the bed. 

Bob could feel his heart jump to his chest. If you noticed his eyes roaming all over you, you didn’t say anything. To that, he was grateful. He was already flustered enough. With your cheeks blown out into a sigh, you fell face-first into your pillows. 

“Lie down with me. I’m so cold,” you said once you turned back around to face him, making a show of curling in on yourself and shivering. 

Bob spied the thick blanket you were lying on top of. The easy solution would’ve been to peel it back and drape it over you. But the other solution sounded far more appealing to him. 

With a hum, Bob settled beside you, looping his arms around you, your back flush against his chest. The two of you slotted together like puzzle pieces sliding into place. 

“You’re so warm.”

“Yeah, sorry, I—”

“Run hot. I know. It’s so nice. You’re like my personal heater.” 

Bob liked the feeling of your cold nose pressing against his overheating bicep. “And you’re my personal, er, ice block? AC unit? Whichever sounds nicer, that’s what you are.”

You let out an amused huff at that. “Back in Madripoor, it’s almost always terribly hot. But when it reaches a certain hour at nighttime, it gets all windy and cold. We don’t have heaters in Southeast Asia like we do here—they’re impractical. So back then I would multiply and hold myself to get warm. Problem was that I’m always cold, so it felt like hugging—just like you said—an ice block. But I kept doing it. It felt nice to be held… even if it was just me.”

Bob squeezed you tighter. “Sorry,” he whispered into your hair. He wished he was better at comforting you. 

“Don’t be,” you replied, sounding perfectly content. “I’ve got you now, don’t I?”

Beneath his ribs, he could feel his heart swell. Of course you could make the most useless man in the world feel like he was worth something.

“When I was a kid…” Bob began, always nervous to speak about his past, “I would get so hot that I would get out of bed and take a pillow with me and sleep by the window.”

“That’s so cute,” you crooned. He could feel you smile into his arm.

“Mmh. My dad wasn’t very happy about it. Said I was wasting all the house’s heating by keeping the windows open.”

“Yeah, well, your dad’s an asshole. Fuck him.”

“Hah. Yeah… fuck h—yeah.”

There was a comfortable silence for a while. Bob could feel himself rocking in and out of the sweet realm of slumber. Your voice reeled him out like a fish being pulled on a hook.

“Hmhng?” was the strange noise he made, having not heard what you said.

“Sorry. Did you fall asleep?”

“Yeah.” Bob sounded sheepish. “But I want to hear it. What you said.”

“Sorry,” you needlessly apologized again, even though Bob would rather be awake so he could spend more time with you. “I was just… I said that I don’t remember my name. My actual one. Or if I ever had one in the first place.”

Bob blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they—the scientists that experimented on me—ever gave me a name. I had a number. Patient 080. But I didn’t have a name.”

Now, Bob was nodding. “Xerox was just—a terrible nickname. It wasn’t your actual name.”

“Yeah.” You shifted in his hold so that your hand could intertwine with one of his, toying with his fingers. “But I do like Xerox now. It’s mine—I’ve made it mine. I just wonder if I ever had a real name before that. I don’t remember much from back then. It always feels like I’m missing a big piece of the puzzle.”

“Maybe…” Bob trailed off, muttering.

“What?”

“Nah, no—it’s probably a stupid idea.”

“Nothing you could say to me would be a stupid idea, Pal. Please tell me. I wanna hear it.”

Bob, wincing, suggested, “Maybe you could try to do some research? See if they have any databases anywhere or something?”

“I did. The lab is an illegal operation, so they’re wiped clean. If there are records, it would be encrypted, and in Madripoor.” You were silent for several moments. “I could go back, in theory. Look for something. Anything.”

Bob’s brows furrowed, a queer sort of dread settling in the pits of his stomach. “You wanna leave?”

Silence prickled the air like needles through silk. 

“I don’t. Going back has always been the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do. I’ve spent years running away. But—it would be closure, in a way. Maybe I need to do this. You know?”

Bob hugged you close to him, breathing you and the jasmine-tasting air in. “Would you come back?”

“Of course I would. I would miss you too much to stay away. Plus—the news will go insane if one of the New Avengers suddenly disappears. Or maybe they would move on in two or three days. Just another faded headline.”

The frown wouldn’t leave his face, no matter how hard he tried. He was grateful you were facing away from him. “I’ll miss you, too. A lot.”

He could hear you smile this time. “I’ll be back before you know it. I'll only need a few days. A week at most.” You made a few noises as you thought things through, and Bob felt the inexplicable, sudden urge to kiss your very soft-looking shoulder. He managed to restrain himself, albeit barely.

“I guess it’s settled, then,” you said, completely oblivious to his embarrassing thoughts of kissing you. “I’m going back to Madripoor.”

With you in his arms, Bob fell asleep in no time. The problem now, however, were the debilitating nightmares that haunted him whenever he was unconscious. Some days it wasn’t so bad—something embarrassing at his old school, or his nights high on meth… when he definitely should’ve been doing something better with his life. But most of the time, they were really bad nightmares. His father, red-faced, belt in hand. Or his mother, bleeding and crying. His friend he would do drugs with—who he couldn’t even remember the name of—foaming at the mouth and convulsing as he overdosed. 

Tonight it was a strange combination of all three. And whilst Bob could try to keep the Void controlled and at bay when he was awake—it didn’t ever occur to him that it could take advantage of his unconscious self. 

The darkness began to consume the bed as he twitched and shivered from his nightmares. You, sleeping away a very long day, didn’t notice. Typically, you were a very light sleeper—a habit you had since your hospital and mercenary days—but you’d grown accustomed to Bob’s regular movement during sleep. 

And that was how the Void came to you in your dreams, dark as night, standing a full head taller than you. You blinked up at him, wondering if he was always this… big.

“Xerox,” he greeted, turning his head about to observe your dream-world with the tiny glints of light he had for eyes. The terrain was familiar to him—he’d brought you here before. “Do you often dream of hospitals?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied, picking up one of the half-solid scalpels with a frown. There was a hoarse scream in the distance, one that you’ve had to listen to a million times before: your own. You regarded him with a cruel sort of suspicion. “Am I dreaming you or—?”

“I came of my own volition,” said the Void. “I wanted to see you.”

“Hm.” You wanted to ask why, but you had a feeling you already knew the answer. 

“You know I will never actually go away. Not for you, not for your precious Bob.”

“I know,” you said, voice cracking. With a sigh, you sat back down on the surgical operating table. “I wish you would, though. But that wouldn’t be very realistic.”

The Void came to sit beside you, leg pressed up against yours. He was freezing cold—a lot like you, and a stark opposite to Bob. You shifted away. 

“You will always choose him over me,” said the dark mass. “But he is me. And I, him. There is no separating us. We all have our little void.”

“Nothing little about you,” you grumbled. The Void let out something akin to a laugh—like the quiet rumbles of thunder just before the angry, rageful clap.

There was silence as the two of you watched a surgeon enter, holding the hand of a little-you, leading you back to your cell. The child’s gaunt eyes were round with shock. Blood lined tiny-you’s mouth, slickened your hands and stained deep within the crevices beneath your nails. 

“It stinks of death here,” the Void said. 

“They used to make my newer copies fight the older ones,” you whispered to him. “See if any of their genetic enhancers actually worked. Most of the time it didn’t.”

Raising his hand, the Void turned the surgeon into shadow. The sight brought a small smile to your face. Swift, the Void hovered over younger-you’s shoulders. 

“Oh, precious,” he crooned to the stricken child, who immediately leaned into the darkness’ touch. “Come.”

You watched with furrowed brows. “Where are you taking me?”

“Into my world. It’s stuffy in here. Smells antiseptic.”

His hand reached out for you to take it. And you could see it then—Bob within the Void. You softened just a little bit, though you still refused to take his hand.

“I hope in the real world you’re not taking over the city again. I’m a bit too tired to deal with my shame rooms at the moment.” 

“Really? I thought they were fun. I enjoyed making them for you.” He laughed his timbrous laugh again, to which you only rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s just us two now.” The Void looked down at younger-you. “Well—three. Soon to be four.”

“What—?”

Before you could finish asking him what he meant by that, the dreamscape around you began to shift, dissipating like ink in water. You felt the ground turn from cold tile to a fibrous brown carpet. 

There was shattering glass somewhere behind you. You whirled around to see a familiar man smashing a beer bottle against the wall, going straight for a woman and a young boy at the dinner table. The Void held his hand out, and Bob’s parents immediately turned into elongated shadows. The young boy—tiny Bob—cowered away from the growing darkness seeping into the carpet. 

“Go,” the Void said to younger you, pushing the child forward. 

With a lump in your throat, you stepped forward to take the shoulders of your younger self, kneeling down and using your sleeve to wipe away the blood from your face. Then, the child, both terrified and in awe of the Void, listened to his instructions and obediently went toddling off to young Bob. 

Tiny you prodded at Bob’s shoulder, who only shrunk into himself more. It occurred to you that your younger self likely thought that this was a new opponent for you to fight. To your relief, however, your younger copy only slumped down the wall beside the boy, and began to recite the elements of the periodic table—something you used to do to help you go to sleep. Young Bob turned and listened with wide eyes. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked when you finally tore your gaze away from the children, both out of genuine curiosity and confusion.

“You had no friends,” he said. “I had no friends. At least in here we can pretend.”

“That’s all you do, isn’t it?” you asked him. “Pretend. That’s a sad way to live.”

“It’s the only way,” he responded. “This way, he—we won’t get hurt.”

“But what about our real friendships? What about the rest of the team?”

The Void stepped closer to you. “Is what we have not real?”

No. Yes. Either way, the answer didn’t sound quite right. 

“Whatever it is, it’s not as important as real life. I can’t be stuck in delusions forever. I… we have to live life. A real one.”

Something in the Void’s voice broke—Bob spilling through. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You said it yourself. You’ll never actually go away,” you whispered. Then, you spared the Void a small, sad smile. “You can come visit. But I’m afraid you can’t stay.”

“You’ll miss me.”

“Oh, I will,” you said, not bothering to deny it. “But I think I’m far happier with where I am now. I don’t need you… hovering over my shoulder anymore.”

You looked to the children, who were now chattering quietly to themselves. Younger you looked happy to be talking to someone your age who wasn’t yourself, for once.

The Void stared at you for a long moment. Then, finally, he asked, “He makes you happy?”

“Bob?” You thought of his warmth. His kindness. His constant, soft touches. His spritely laughter. His stammering. His lopsided smile. His thoughtful gestures. His excessive emoticons in his texts. His love for animals. His strange habit of ad-libbing extra notes to catchy advertisement jingles. “Yes. He does.”

“Then I guess that’s reason enough for me to keep my distance. But I’ll come back. I always come back,” he said. “See you on the other side, Xerox.”

When you flinched awake, a loud, startled gasp emitted from you. You shot upwards on the bed, ripping yourself out of Bob’s warm embrace. The sudden movement made him jerk out of sleep, as well. 

“Wha—Whuss goin’ on?” he sleepily muttered, looking juxtaposingly alarmed and ready to go back to sleep. 

It was only when his warm arms wrapped around you again, did you realize that you were shaking. Immediately, you began sobbing. It was silent as always, but it wracked through your chest and made it difficult for you to breathe. You turned into his hold and buried your face into him, clinging onto him like an ant to sticky nectar, and he let you cry damp spots into his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, no. I’m sorry,” rasped Bob, though he really didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Still, he was almost certain it was his fault. He rubbed comforting circles into your back. “I’m sorry.”

And, once you calmed down enough to regulate your breathing, you found yourself parroting the very same words to him.

[ovaryacted]

I love the concept of Girl Dad!Pope. I feel like he would take play time really seriously. Fully invested in the tea party, or bringing stuffed animals to his daughter’s “vet clinic.” He buys her so many toys, books, etc. and probably stays up late after she’s gone to bed to organize them 😂

─ Girl Dad! Pope Cody x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k

CW: FLUFF. Pope is a good dad! Daughter at different ages (months old to 4 years old). Daughter is unnamed. Daughter has Pope's hair, freckles, & eyes (carbon copy). Reader & Pope are in an established relationship.

Thank you for sending this in for a blurb idea, anon! This initially started as something silly and playful and it got real emotional towards the end, my eyes got watery reading it through lol. I hope you all like this little piece on Girl Dad! Pope cause talking about him means a lot to me. <3

It started with the whale plushie he got his daughter when she was just a couple of months old, spotting it in the toy section on a shopping trip, grabbing it along the way. As she got older over her first year of life, Pope carefully watches over her for things she might be interested in, to try to figure out what are the things that bring her joy, not including her own parents.

She was fond of sea animals, he soon figures out, and whether intentionally or unintentionally, Pope ransacks an entire toy store with all of the sea creature toys he could find. He doesn't overdo it of course, he leaves some things behind for customers for the next day, that's as considerate as he was going to get anyway. But when you walk into your daughter's bedroom and spot the wide selection of sharks, turtles, and jellyfish laying around the floor, you only squint at Pope.

"Andrew...where on Earth did these come from?"

"That toy store along the strip." He says it so calmly with a shrug, currently categorizing the plushies in order of importance based on how much his daughter smiled after he showed them to her one by one.

"Andy, she's not even a year old yet, you know?"

As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, your daughter's head pops up from her crib, her hands keeping her steady on the railing, staring between the two of you in curiosity.

"At least now we're prepared. Nothing wrong with that." He hides his smile, not an ounce of remorse or guilt on his face, not that he had anything to feel guilty about.

You don't argue with him, there's nothing to argue about. You simply plant a kiss on his cheek and reach to hold your baby girl for a little while, who was more than excited about all of the new joyful faces in her bedroom.

As she gets older, Pope's spending habits don't really stop. Well, he doesn't really "spend" money necessarily, you just end up finding new things around the house that you knew are because of him.

A new doll house. A kitchen playset. A mini doctor's set. A mini pink electric lamborghini.

You never got angry about him doing this, about spoiling your little girl because you know it's more than him just getting her things. Whatever she wants, it's a yes from him, when most of his life he was so used to being told no. No, you're not enough. No, you're not wanted. He's remedying his troubled past through his daughter, so you let him fill your house with toys that your child is more than happy to use on a daily basis.

Andrew becomes even more dedicated to his daughter's playtime once she knights him as an active participant.

You've caught him a handful of times sitting at her too-small tea table, thick fingers holding a plastic cup as delicately as he could. His broad figure looked utterly squished in the small chair he managed to fit the rest of his body into, and you'd laugh if you didn't know how much this meant to him. He wasn't the only one sitting at the table, several of your daughter's plushies that she's collected over the years make up her party of elite guests. Leaning against the doorway, you simply watch the two of them interact, how your daughter refills all of her patron's cups, and hands her father a plastic muffin for him to munch on.

"Having fun without me?" You question out loud, mirroring your daughter's smile when she stands up to run towards you.

"Mommy! Me and daddy are playing!" She says to the best of her ability, her fourth birthday just creeping around the corner. You run a hand through her auburn curls, straightening the tiara on her head and the superhero cape trailing behind her.

"I can see that, baby. Is daddy being a nice guest?"

"Yes. He's eating the muffin. Look!" She turns her head to point at Andrew, and you bite your inner cheek to suppress your chuckle.

He pays you no mind, fake-munching his muffin and humming in satisfaction at the taste. His face was as serious as ever, wearing the same signature scowl he fell in love with, but you could tell from the way his shoulders slouched he was calm, relaxed, safe.

"Do you want tea too, Mommy?" You hear your daughter ask, holding one of your hands and pulling you further into her mess of a room. You knew Andrew will have a fun time cleaning all of this up.

"The tea's good." Pope says in the light monotone voice you were familiar with, drinking in his hazel eyes as he fondly stares at you. "You should join us for the party." He holds out his big hand for you to take, and you gladly did, giving him an upwards quirk of your lips.

"Alright, alright. I'll stay for some tea. Where do I sit?"

Your favorite things to witness must be Pope being so devoted to your baby girl’s bedtime routine. It always started with a bath, one he was a part of since his daughter was young enough to be near running water. He made sure to use the bubble bath mixture that instantly calmed his daughter down, a mix of lavender and oatmeal filling the tiled room. He ignores the ache in his knees digging into the tile below him as he splashes water over his daughter’s head, wiping the water away from her hazel eyes, dryly chuckling when she dunks her rubber duck under the bubbles that surround her.

Drying her down, moisturizing her skin, and dressing her in some light green pajamas, he brings her to her toddler bed, setting her down and drawing back the sheets to let her get comfortable before tucking her in. Pope grabs one of the books in her expansive bookshelf, picking up Goodnight Moon, her personal favorite, and he sits on the opposite end of her small bed, mindful of the weight he puts against the frame.

His daughter stares at him as he repeats the words on the page, one open palm holding the book open while the other rubs her feet, squeezing here and there so she feels his presence. Pope’s calm words swirl in the four walls of her bedroom, keeping an even cadence after every passage.

Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere.

It doesn’t take long for his daughter to fall fast asleep, her breaths slow as she falls deep into slumber. Pope takes a second longer to just look at her, to take in the way freckles were already appearing over her round cheeks and the bridge of her nose, the dark red curls he had as a child now coiling over her head in wild patterns.

She was so much like him, and yet different in every sense of the word. A part of him, a part of you; all of the intricacies that made you as humans mixed together in one final act of love to breathe new life to the world, birthing a new reality he never thought he could have.

Andrew stands up with a shaky breath, bending down to quickly plant a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, turning off the lights after double checking the baby monitor and nightlight were still on. He closes the door to her bedroom with a soft click, striding into your bedroom where you were waiting for him dressed in one of his baggy t-shirts and sleep shorts.

“She’s asleep?” You ask him, to which he nods. You don’t jerk away when he comes towards you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, resting his head along the side of your neck and simply breathing you in.

Your hands rub over his shoulders, kissing his temple and breathing with him, whispering those three words over and over again for as long as he needed to hear them. He’ll never fully declare the amount of gratitude he has towards you for loving him this way, for giving him a family that wants him, for saving him.

But you knew Andrew, as much as you knew Pope; you knew him. He didn’t need to tell you how much he loved you, you see it every day with how he worships you, and how he pours so much of himself in the child you created like that was all he knew, what he was born to do. You wouldn’t trade him or this life for anything, and holding him like this as he listens to your pulse flutter underneath him is all the declaration of love you needed.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[wendichester]

｡𖦹°‧ across the room⁶,

summary.you’ve seen sam around. he’s seen you too. all you’re both waiting for is the perfect opportunity to go from strangers to something more.

pairing. stanford!sam winchester x reader   genre. angsty

wordcount. 1438

notes / warnings. mild gaslighting ( guys, we were not good girlfriends ), mentions of vulnerability, family trauma and neglect, hints of past violence and unstable childhood, mild sexual content (grinding, suggestive physical intimacy), strong language.

ᯓ★ read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

The movie’s playing, but you haven’t heard a single word in ten minutes.

Some kind of romcom. Something ridiculous, with a meet-cute involving a bookstore and a rainstorm and some adorably neurotic man tripping over a Labrador. Normally, you’d be narrating it in sarcastic voiceovers. Normally, Sam would be laughing under his breath and threatening to mute you if you kept quoting the actors.

But tonight, you’re quiet.

Curled up against his chest, limbs tangled and skin warm, and it should feel perfect—it does feel perfect—but something’s… off. Like a shoelace tied just a little too tight.

You feel it in the way your fingers twitch where they’re resting on his stomach. In the way your jaw keeps flexing every time he shifts. In the way your heart starts to race, just slightly, when you hear the echo of his words in your head:

“I left my entire fucking life behind for a chance to be normal. Stable. Safe.”

You know what that meant, on the surface. A dramatic line. Some post-fight heat. But now? Now that things are calm, now that the adrenaline has bled out of the relationship and been replaced with stability, it hits different.

Because you realize—you don’t know what he left.

You know about you. Your parents. Your exes. Your old hometown. Your insecurities, your scars, your drunk-in-a-parking-lot stories. You’ve been spilling yourself to him for weeks now. But he?

You glance up at him.

He’s chewing popcorn like it’s a sport, eyes on the screen, completely at ease—his fingers absently tracing the bare skin above your waistband, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. Like you’re a language he’s just starting to get fluent in.

And it’s so easy to let it be enough.

But the question is sitting on your tongue like blood.

you don’t know his brother’s name. you don’t know where he’s from. you don’t even know if sam winchester is his real name.

You shift.

Not enough to be obvious—just enough that your body tenses ever so slightly. Just enough for him to notice.

He notices everything.

His fingers pause. His head tilts, just barely. You feel his breath against your hairline, the way his lips brush your temple. “Y’okay?”

You nod. Lie.

“Mhm,” you say. Too fast. “Just tired.”

But your fingers are gripping the hem of your own shirt like it’s keeping you tethered. And his hand slides up your back—comforting. Familiar.

But his instincts are already on edge.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t press.

Just noses into your neck again, lips brushing skin in a way that would usually have you melting. But now it just makes you feel seen. And not in the way you want.

And then— Ring-ring-ring.

His phone.

The screen lights up across the room, vibrating loudly against the desk. Again.

Sam stiffens just slightly. Just enough that your stomach knots.

He doesn’t move right away. Just huffs out a breath against your throat like he’s been expecting it. Like it’s been happening. Which—it has.

You saw the name once.

Dean.

He’s been calling a lot. Texting, too. And every time you bring it up, Sam gives you some vague answer like “it’s nothing” or “just a friend from home” or the world’s most suspicious “don’t worry about it.”

This time, he groans, peels away from your skin long enough to grab the phone and hit the side button. It stops ringing.

He doesn’t look at the screen. Just sighs and powers it off completely before tossing it toward the nightstand like it personally insulted him.

That’s when the idea clicks.

It's evil. And desperate. And exactly what you need.

You swing your leg over his lap in one smooth motion, settling onto him with a slow, deliberate grind of hips that makes his breath catch.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes flashing up to meet yours, already dazed by the press of your ass against him. “What’s gotten into you?”

You pout. Innocent. Sweet. Dangerous.

“What, I can’t get a little clingy after finals?”

He chuckles, hands sliding to your hips, thumbs grazing the skin under your shirt. “You’ve been clingy. Not complaining.”

You roll your hips again, subtle. Teasing. And his grip tightens like he can’t help it.

The movie keeps playing behind you—some dramatic monologue about second chances and fate or whatever—but you’re laser-focused on the way Sam’s pupils dilate. On the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

So you ask it, all sugary and light:

“So… who’s Dean?”

His entire body locks.

Just like that, the air goes electric.

His jaw tenses. His fingers pause. His eyes flick to yours and immediately scan for your angle—trying to figure out if this is jealousy or suspicion or something worse.

You blink at him, all wide-eyed and pretty. Tilting your head just so. “You said he was a friend, but you never really talk about him. And he calls a lot.” Your voice drops to a playful murmur. “Should I be worried?”

He exhales hard through his nose. “He’s just my brother.”

“Oh,” you say. Like that’s normal. “And why haven’t I heard about him before?”

Sam frowns. “I told you. I don’t really talk to my family.”

You lean in, nails dragging lightly up the back of his neck, playing the part like it’s your major. “But you know everything about mine. My parents. My shitty ex. My grandmother’s conspiracy theories.”

He looks away.

Your tone gets softer. More vulnerable. And sharp. “Don’t you think it’s kinda unfair?”

Sam shifts. Tense. Like he wants to escape his own skin.

“I just…” You trace his collarbone, pretending to focus on nothing. “What kinda girlfriend am I if I don’t even know your family?”

“Stop,” he mutters, voice low.

You blink. “Stop what?”

He looks at you, eyes narrow, suddenly not so dazed by lust. “This.”

“I’m just asking questions,” you say lightly, with a shrug and a kiss to his jaw. “You don’t wanna share your life with me?”

He laughs—sharp and humorless. “Jesus. This again?”

“This?” you repeat, like you’ve been slapped. “Sorry, I didn’t know asking about your literal brother was crossing a line.”

“You don’t know,” he snaps, and it hits you like a slap. “That’s the whole fucking point.”

You freeze.

He shifts you off his lap—not roughly, but fast. Sudden. His hands drag through his hair like he’s seconds from unraveling.

“You think I don’t wanna tell you? That I’m just keeping secrets for fun?” He stands, pacing now, half-shouting, half-pleading. “I left my entire fucking life behind to be here. To be normal. To try and figure out who I am without all that… crap. And now you’re sitting here pouting because I don’t feel like dredging up the worst years of my life over Netflix and fucking chill?”

Your throat tightens. “Sam—”

“I’m not doing this to hurt you,” he says, quieter now. His voice cracks. “I just… I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I want to be Sam, not Sammy. Not the freak. Not the one who grew up sleeping in motel rooms and lying to cops and patching up bullet wounds before Algebra class.”

He turns away from you. Runs a hand down his face.

And suddenly you’re seeing him—not as the golden boy, not as the boyfriend who reads you poetry in the library and kisses your forehead after coffee—but as someone haunted. Someone full of stories he’s never told. Not because he’s hiding them. But because he doesn’t want them to own him anymore.

You swallow. Guilt curdling in your gut.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He turns his head, barely.

“I didn’t mean to push,” you add. “I just—Dean keeps calling. I thought maybe… maybe something was wrong.”

He looks at you fully now.

His expression is softer. Regretful. But guarded.

He walks back to the bed. Sits beside you. Not touching. Just close.

After a long beat, he says, “Dean’s my older brother. We used to be… everything to each other. But he’s still in it. The life. And I’m not. He doesn’t get that.”

The life? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? The more he talks, the more questions you have. You want to push. To make him crack. You know you can. He would probably spill everything. Instead, you nod slowly.

“He thinks this,” he gestures vaguely—your bed, your room, you, “is temporary.”

You blink at him. “Is it?”

He finally looks at you again. Eyes wide. Honest.

“No,” he says. Like it’s the easiest truth in the world. “It’s the only real thing I’ve got.”

And your chest cracks open.

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[normal-internet-user]

STUPID CUPID

Summary: Jason is a little awkward when it comes to his feelings.

Requested: No.

Warnings: none

Fem reader!

Sometimes Jason felt cursed. He had to be after he came back. Some things were obvious, the aches and pains, the anger.

He just felt wrong.

Except when he was with you.

With you, he felt seen.

Everytime he saw you he melted. You smile, your hair, the way you held yourself... It made him weak. You made him feel so sure.

It started simply, you were just his neighbor. Some women he lived next to. Then, you started bringing him portions of whatever you cooked for dinner, claiming you'd made to much.

He always accepted, even if it wasn't something he was very fond of. You made good food, and it was this or instant ramen noodles.

After a while, he started helping you out, taking care of your pets while you were at work, fixing things the landlord took to long to get to.

He told himself it didn't matter. You'd never see him as more, but god, did he want you too.

Jason wanted to be yours, he wanted you to love him like he loved you. He scoffed at himself, the idea laughable.

You would never. You didn't think of him that way. He didn't deserve it. You.

But Jason's a man, and men are clueless. He doesn't seem to get it, and you're getting frustrated.

How many lasagna's does a guy need to get before he realizes! It's ridiculous.

You're being obvious! At least you think you are.

It's getting late, and you just finished making dinner, and you're making a portion for Jason. Neatly packed away in some of your tupperware, you make your way over to his apartment.

You knock on the door, and wait for his answer, which comes shortly.

He smiles, it's small, but it's there, and you return it.

"Chicken parmesan tonight." You say, handing over the food, "I know how much you like italian."

"Thanks." Jason says with a nod, gesturing you inside, "You're a saint, you know that? I'm starting to think you're making extra just for me."

"What? No, I just have bad portion control." You reply with a shrug, waving away the though, even though it's definitly true. You are.

Jason chuckles, watching you make yourself comfortable in his apartment, "If you say so." He mumbles.

"Besides," You remark from your comfy place on his couch, "Think of it as payment for taking care of my pets. A little homemade thank you."

Jason sits next to you, doing his best to look natural and relaxed and not give way to his urge to stare at you, "Well, either way, I appreciate it. I appreciate you." He says softly, clearing his throat.

You shoot him a smile, subtly scooting a little closer, "It's really not a problem. I like the excuse to visit."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Jason says, glancing over at you with a small surge of confidence, "Just to see little old me?"

"Maybe." You reply with a shrug, surpressing the shudder that the nickname created.

"Are you free this weekend?" He blurts out suddenly, and he silently curses the way his heart beats out of his chest, the way his cheeks heat up and the dizziness in his head.

He waits a beat. One. Two. And now he's scrambling, god, he just ruined everything. He needs to move. Die his hair, change his name-

"Yes." You reply softly, interrupting his running thoughts, "Why, you wanna go out?"

"Maybe." He says, breathless, and smitten, his eyes glued to you as relief flodd his entire body, "Are you.. up for that?"

You nod, "Mhm." Standing up, you press a quick kiss to his cheek, "Pick me up on Friday, 3pm. We can go get dinner somewhere."

"Great." Jason gulps, a goofy grin playing at his lips, "3. Yeah. Got it. Dinner's good."

"I'll see you then." You say, with a soft laugh.

"Yeah.... see you then."

He watches you leave his apartment, and he feels like he's dreaming. You said yes. You, beautiful, gorgeous, sweet and caring- said yes. To him.

Maybe he wasn't so hopeless.

This isn't as good as the first draft 😪 tumbr didnt fucking save it, so i had to literally start over- i am so mad rn- 🤦‍♀️

[misty-petals]

My heart beats for you

|Yeon Sieun x Reader

|Romance, mild angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort

English is not my first language.

Summary:You just wanted to be loved as much as you loved. But some people show their hearts before words—and his was beating for you all along.

The cold afternoon wind drifted through the nearly empty streets, rustling the dry leaves on the ground. You were there, sitting on the same stair step where you two used to meet after class. But for the first time in a long while, that place felt... uncomfortable.

The silence, once so comforting between you, now felt heavy. Suffocating.

You glanced to the side, looking at Sieun. He was sitting next to you, arms crossed, eyes fixed on some distant point — like he was avoiding you, avoiding what you were feeling.

Your chest tightened. Your voice stayed stuck in your throat for several long minutes, until you just couldn’t hold it anymore.

— “Sometimes...” — your voice came out softer than you expected, barely a whisper. — “Sometimes I feel like... like I love you more than you love me.”

The words hung in the air. Clear. Raw. And you almost regretted saying them the second they left your mouth.

Sieun stayed still. Not a word. Not a sound. Just silence. But it wasn’t the usual silence you both were used to sharing. This one was different. Heavy. Full of tension. Full of everything he never quite knew how to say.

Your chest tightened even more, and you felt that lump in your throat growing, threatening to spill over into tears.

— “I know you’re not good with words... I know.” — you went on, nervously squeezing your own hands. — “But sometimes it feels like I’m fighting for this relationship alone... like I’m the only one feeling all of this. And... it hurts. It hurts so much.”

He took a deep breath. Once, twice. His jaw tensed, his fingers clutching the fabric of his pants. Like he was fighting with himself. Like he had no idea where to even start.

Suddenly, he stood up. For a second, you thought he was leaving. That he was going to walk away. Say nothing.

But instead, he turned, took two steps toward you and, without a word, grabbed your hands. Both of them. Firmly.

Surprised, you stood up quickly, almost on instinct — as if your body moved on its own, like staying seated near that intensity was impossible.

You looked at him, startled. His eyes were different. Not cold, not distant. They were trembling. Saying everything without a single word.

Slowly, he lifted your hand and pressed it against his chest.

The sound of his heartbeat was loud. Fast. Almost desperate.

He took a deep breath, held your gaze, and with a low, rough voice, laced with a sincerity that almost hurt, he whispered:

— “You know what’s here?” — he pressed your hand tighter against his chest, making you feel every frantic beat. — “This... this beats for you. Only for you.”

His eyes faltered for a second, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Your chest ached so much it physically hurt. The entire world seemed to disappear — leaving just the two of you. Just him, holding your hand against his chest, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his whole universe.

— “I don’t know...” — he breathed, closing his eyes tight, trying to piece together everything he was feeling. — “I don’t know how to say these things. I don’t know how... to show you the right way. But... you mean everything to me. Everything.”

You felt the tears burn in your eyes.

— “Sieun...” — your voice cracked, heavy with emotion.

He let go of your hands only to cup your face in both of his. His palms were cold, but his touch... his touch was the warmest, safest, most loving thing you’d ever felt.

— “Don’t make me say this again... please.” — he whispered, his eyes trembling, full of truth. — “I... I’m sorry. For everything I’ve done that ever hurt you.”

You didn’t think. You couldn’t. You just threw yourself into his arms, holding him like your life depended on it. And in that embrace... you felt everything.

The love he didn’t know how to say.

The care he always showed in silence.

His fear of losing you.

And most of all... how that heart was beating for you.

He held you tight, burying his face in your neck, his voice coming out low, muffled, but so full of love it made your whole body tremble.

— “I love you...” — he whispered, almost breathless, like the words were too much to hold inside. — “I love you so much it scares me. And I promise... I’ll never let you feel like this again.”

And right there, in his arms, with the sound of his racing heart pounding against your chest, you realized... you would never doubt it again.

Note 1: Hello! The idea for this story came from an image. When I saw her on Pinterest, I was dying to write her and I had no choice but to do so. I thought of other characters besides Sieun, but I just imagined it, I haven't written it yet. So I wanted to know what you guys think about me doing some more one-shots in the vibe of this story.

Note 2: The image that served as inspiration is the one between the two images of Sieun, but I'll put it below this text so you can see it better. Oh! Before I forget, I want to know one more thing from you: did anyone besides me feel or imagine anything when seeing this image?

(Well, this image I used for inspiration)

Sorry to take up your time and thank you so much for reading this story ♡

[mattslilies]

15 Minutes - C.S.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what are you listening to?"

you giggled a bit at his shock.

"sabrina carpenter, why?"

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

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

you laughed, a little louder than you expected.

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

"probably true."

you smirked at him.

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

he stared at you, jaw having fallen open.

"what?"

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

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

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

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

you grinned, turning back around.

"wanna bet?"

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

you smiled.

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

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

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

"start a timer for me, baby."

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

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

"baby, fuck-"

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

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

"s-shit, please- god!"

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

"stop that timer, sweetheart."

1:59.

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

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

"i think we should go, yeah?"

he nodded, still clearly shaken up.

"mhm. how late are we?"

you checked the time on your phone before replying.

"we're right on time."

he stuttered, surprise clear on his face.

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

you laughed, leading him out of the bathrom.

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

[artist-owl]

Top 10 Funniest Deaths of the Silmarillion

Because sometimes you have to laugh through the tears when you’re reading this book. Did reading about (most) of these deaths emotionally devastate me? Oh yeah. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a laugh about it.

10 - Maglor: didn’t fucking die, the coward! Like, given that Elves can die of depression, there’s realistically no way he lived past the Second Age, but we never get confirmation. Schrodinger’s Elf, if you will.

9 - Turgon: specifically in a fandom context it’s funny bc fanon Turgon is the boring as cardboard member of his entire generation and then he goes out refusing to leave his falling city and stands atop his tower as dragons bring it down in crumbling flames whilst yelling “great is the victory of the Noldor!” Cannot stress enough that he did not need to do this. He could have left and said no. Dumb as hell but I respect it.

8 - Argon: pour one out for my boy his death and whole existence didn’t even make it to the published Silm. Not to mention he survives the entire crossing of the Helcaraxë while his sister in law literally got friged, then dies like .5 seconds after setting foot in Beleriand. Tfw you’re so impetuous that you hew your way through the orcs without stopping to think that this means they can close ranks and surround you. Not his fault, he’d never fought before. Probably.

7 - Nienor: learns that she did a sibling incest and immediately yeets herself off a cliff. Like I can’t blame her but there’s a morbid humour in how fast she made that decision.

6 - Túrin: same as his sister, but his cursed sword suddenly reveals itself to be capable of speech, calls him out for killing his boyfriend, and then calls him a lil bitch before he kills himself with it. Also with the way his life was going this wasn’t even surprising.

5 - Sauron (death no. 3): you know he lived and died the same way: not knowing what the fuck a Hobbit is or why he should worry about them. Also this bitch dies three goddamn times because he can’t learn his damn lesson.

4 - Fëanor: Fingolfin got the death that Fëanor was destined for bc Morgoth didn’t have time to plan ahead for that fight and granted Fingolfin a badass last stand; with Fëanor he went “I’m not fighting that guy” like a lil bitch and straight up sent out a fuckton of Balrogs to fight him instead, and Fëanor survived this for long enough to curse him out again, make his sons re-swear the oath that would ruin their lives and countless others’, and then spontaneously combust out of sheer Big Mad. Other Elves have faded away from depression because the weariness and sorrow of their souls overcame their bodies; Fëanor literally invented a new way to die. Post cancelled I’ve circled back around to being impressed.

3 - Thingol: Stiffs the Dwarves on their payment and starts hurling insults and slurs at them while holding a necklace that was recently liberated from a dead dragon’s hoard that had been inset with a twice-stolen gem that lowkey curses everyone who covets it after his magic goddess wife told him that coveting it was a bad idea. Like, my guy, wtf did you think would happen.

2 - Sauron (death no. 1): the biggest L of his career. Just sitting in his temple in Atlantis Númenor, laughing maniacally, assured of his own victory, and not looking out the window behind him to see the massive wave that is approaching at mach fuck. Dies and jrrt specifically mentions that he’s never again able to have a body that men (specifically) find hot. This is more pathetic than the #1 spot but I want him to stay losing 😌

1 - Finrod: do I even need to say it? You’ve got this classy, friendly, noble Elven lord who, in short order: agrees to help a Man complete a suicide quest because he Swore An Oath, dressed up as an orc, said his name was Dungalef and his friend here was Nereb, lost a rap battle to a god bc the god brought up his ptsd triggers, got stripped naked, slipped his chains and fought a werewolf, naked, with his teeth, and won before dying of blood loss, but not before he gave a little lore drop to Beren about how Elven deaths work as his last words. The absolute legend.

Put your favorites and/or other nominations in the tags, I want to see if there's anyone I missed.

[msmargaretmurry]

another anon but a futurefic for mattdrai👀can we know more about that

well since you both asked so nicely!! with two caveats: 1) no promises 😭 and 2) is entirely possible if i do end up writing this that you won't hear about it again for two years before i post it with no warning 😂 i don't control the whims of the muses.

THAT BEING SAID ever since i wrote haw, since that one is so matthew-centric, i've wanted to do a long feelingsy fic focused on leon too so this idea would probably be my vehicle for that! the basic concept would be like, 10-ish years in the future leon is still slugging it out in the nhl but knows retirement is not far off just due to his old man body starting to fail him and making it hard to play at the level he deems acceptable for himself, so he is deep in his feelings about his legacy and what he has and hasn't accomplished in his career and how little time he has left. meanwhile matthew has already retired and YET leon is somehow not free of him because he's a fucking talking head on leon's tv talking about leon's fucking hockey games, interviewing players, and generally doing what he does best: talking too fucking much. circumstances conspire to force them into each other's space at some opportune moments and things happen :)

[elzifelzi]

PHANTOM

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chapter 19: Haunted Hallows Part 4.

After their little episode the group went back to their respective rooms for some well needed rest.They especially needed it for what they were soon to experience in the coming days. 

The night had passed by rather quickly and it was now morning Dan and Tucker got up early with Sam waking up much much later. She woke to find Dan and Tucker out at the front of the house in their sweats, Tucker made eye contact with her and waved her over to them. 

Sam:”What are you guys doing?”

Tucker:”Well as evident from your little ghost run in last night we know Dan is useless without his powers.”

The ghost boy shook his head in agreement.

Dan:”This is true…”

Tucker :”And we can't risk Danny going ghost and possibly giving away our location at least not until we know for sure that he can face whoever Skulker sends our way next.“

Dan:”This is also true..”

Tucker: “So I had an idea,What if Danny didn't have to go ghost to use his powers?“

Dan:”I've done it before 

Sam:”But won't Skulker still be able to track him?”

Dan:”I thought of that but we realized that skulker isn't tracking my powers just my ecto signature..” 

Sam:”ummm explain…”

Tucker:”After doing some research based on the ghosts Danny has fought before, I figured out that an ecto signature is something unique to each ghost's undead body.. It's essentially an energy that envelopes a ghost's body causing it to exist outside of the ghost zone.. “

Sam:”ahh I think I get it so since Danny can turn his ghost half on and off he can do the same with his ecto signature?”

Tucker:”exactly so all we need to do is get Danny used to using his powers in his human form and problem solved... He may never need to go ghost again!”

Dan:”Well you see, that won't help with the whole secret identity thing and what not..sooo.”

Sam:”Danny's right, but at least it'll give us the edge that we need out here. I can't always be saving your asses. “

She shoots him a smug grin.

Dan:”shutup”

Dan playfully nudges Sam

Tucker :”Speaking of which, what happened last night?”

Dan raises an eyebrow at tucker. 

Dan:”What do you mean?”

Tucker :”Well you guys were gone for a while and the phone call couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes.. So what were you doing after you guys escaped the ghost?”

Dan and Sam simultaneously recall the somewhat steamy exchange they had moments before Dan's phone went off and the two of their faces turned crimson red in embarrassment. 

Dan and Sam:”I-I-it W-was n-nothing!!!!”

Their embarrassed stammering didn't go unnoticed by Tucker who shot them a knowing glare.

Tucker :”It doesn't seem like nothing..”

Dan:”nah we just lost track of time is all... R-right Sam?? “

Sam:”yeah right... Well you guys should get started on training. I'm gonna grab something to eat since I kissed breakfast.....”

Tucker gave Sam a confused look and when it dawned upon her what she had said her face became redder than even humanly possible.

Sam :”I mean MISSED!!! I missed breakfast.”

Before she could make an even bigger fool of herself she left. Tucker finding the entire situation funny just chose to ignore it and refocused his attention on Dan.

Tucker:”Look man,we need to talk..”

Dan was in the process of stretching but stopped after seeing Tucker's rather serious expression.

Dan:”uh sure,about what?”

Tucker:”I'm sorry about yesterday man, I shouldn't have come at you like that,Just with Skulker and everything that happened I just…”

Immediately Dan waved his hand dismissively,in his mind Tucker hadn't said anything that wasn't true and maybe Dan needed to hear it.

Dan:”It's fine,besides you weren't wrong…I just didn’t want to hear it.”

He lets out a weak chuckle as a way to indicate to Tucker that he was fine with it but his friend wasn't fooled one bit.

Tucker:”No… listen…dude..you got hurt..you were damn near on the verge of death,the horror I felt seeing it couldn't even be comparable to what you must've felt and I know that but ... .being your friend knowing the kind of life you went through its …….”

Dan cuts him off.

Dan:”you don't have to say it dude,I know..but believe me when I say that it's because you know my past that I'm glad you said something.”

Tucker:”Really?”

Dan nods.

Dan:”Dude you're my best friend in the whole world.I need you, to be straight with me more than anyone else,I don't need you sugarcoating shit cuz you think I can't handle it…nor do I want you to.”

He extends his fist to Tucker.

Dan:”you got that?”

Tucker nods before bumping Dans Fist with his own. 

Tucker:”Bet!”

Tucker:”Speaking of your past,I know your folks called you last night,how're you feeling about that?”

As Dan recalls the intense feelings he experienced the prior night he begins rubbing the bridge Of his nose.

Dan:”not Good…”

Tucker:”Wanna talk about it?”

Dan:”not really, but I'm sure you're gonna make me.”

Tucker:”Then start talking.”

A sigh escapes Dans lips

Dan:”They told me that they're ready to bury The hatchet…that they're ready to move past everything that happened.”

Tucker:”Isn’t that a good thing?”

Dan:”It would be if it was for the right reasons.”

Tucker:”What do you mean?”

Dan:”Apparently Jazz is missing,and she's been missing for a while so…..”

Tucker cuts him off almost immediately, knowing what Dan was insinuating.

Tucker:”So you think they reached out to you because they don't wanna deal with the guilt of having both a missing daughter and an estranged son?”

Dan nods.

Tucker:”Look I understand your parents aren't really the best and I get why you would be apprehensive to let them back in, but…and this is just my opinion if it feels like they're trying to make a genuine effort..It wouldn't hurt to meet them halfway on it..”

Dan:”You don't seriously expect me to forgive them,do you?”

Tucker Shakes his head.

Tucker:”No,It wouldn't be fair to you.You don't have to forgive them,hell you don't even have to talk with them but I know you're hurting and I know that while you are angry at them,you don't want to be.So if you really do wanna make any kind of dent in that huge wall of trauma you got maybe try talking to them on your terms,and if they still choose to be thick headed then I'd say Screw them!”

And there it was,the famous Tucker Foley wisdom that Dan could never refute no matter how much he tried.It was moments like this that made him truly realize how lucky he was to have Tucker by his side,of course he'd never outrightly say it,but his friend was more than smart enough to figure it out.

Dan:”I think you're right…”

Tucker scoffs.

Tucker:”I mean I'm rarely ever wrong.”

Their conversation lulls to a close as Dan's training was about to commence.

Dan:”So how's this work?”

Tucker :”Well, we're gonna do tests that are specifically tailored to your ghost powers.. The 1st is intangibility.”

Dan:”So what, you're just gonna throw rocks at me until they pass through me?”

Tucker :”yup”

Without warning Tucker threw a barrage of rocks at Danny all of which hit him Dead on.. Leaving small rock shaped wounds on his body..

Dan:”What the hell Tucker!!!!” 

Tucker :”what?” 

Dan:”at least give a guy a heads up!!”

Tucker:”Sorry, heads up!”

Tucker threw a final rock at Dan and for a brief moment the ghost boy's eyes flashed green and he was able to turn intangible..with relative ease.He assumed he had just gotten much better at using his powers but,could it have been something more? Dan didn’t ponder the thought for very long he couldn't, they had a lot of ground to cover as far as his powers were concerned and an undetermined amount of time to do it.Trying to make the most of their time they spent the rest of the Day testing out Dan's other ghost powers and by the time they were done night had eventually fallen.Then feeling satisfied with the days events they retreated to their living room to discussed Dan's progress. 

Sam:”So what powers can Dan use?”

Tucker:”Well so far the only confirmed abilities are.. His basic ghostly strength, intangibility, invisibility and ghost ray..the catch is all these are at less than Half their full strength while in his human form.”

Dan:”Either way it's still some progress.”

Tucker nodded his head in agreement.

Tucker:”Also, I'm still working on it but I may have come up with something to help us fight off the ghosts!”

Sam:”That's amazing Tucker!

Dan:”Yeah how did you manage that?”

Tucker scrolls through his phone for a bit before showing Dan blueprints for a thermos like device.

Dan:”Hey I recognize this thing..”

Tucker:”It's one of your mom's old designs,It's supposed to be able to trap ghosts.”

Sam:”Sick! So this thing could seal away Skulker or something?”

Tucker:”Basically.”

Dan:”Then its completion is definitely on the top of our list of priorities.”

Tucker:”I couldn't agree more.”

They chatted idly for a while longer before they each retired to their respective rooms for that night,unbeknownst to them while they slept the most unholy of alliances was being formed against them. In the ghost zone the mysterious figure had done exactly as skulker ordered him to and brought him Vlad masters. They arrived at Skulkers Island where he was torturing the blind and defenseless box ghost under the guise of helping the ghost perfect his new ability but really he was mainly doing it for fun.

???? :”skulker?”

Skulker :”what is it now Technus? “

The ghost pulled over his hood to reveal green skin with white circuit-like markings along his face and body and long white hair tied in a ponytail and shaved at the sides; he wore large square framed tinted glasses and had jagged teeth. 

Skulker :”why have you disturbed me? I was just about to rip off his hand.”

Technus:”that can wait.. I got you the human you were looking for..” 

Technus points to Vlad who had been too busy admiring the ghost zone to pay attention. 

Skulker :”Finally ready to reveal your true Nature Vlad!?!”

Vlad flashes him a mischievous grin and In a Flash of light Vlads human appearance changed to a more ghostly mischievous appearance  his skin turned blue and his vampiric qualities were made apparent by his glowing red eyes,sharp fangs and his jet black hair and goatee which took the shape of horns. 

Skulker flashes him a grim

Technus :”So why did you keep it hidden?” 

Vlad:”A half ghost running a ghost hunting agency?If I had ever been found out then everything I worked hard to obtain all these years would’ve been wasted!”

Technus:”So you let Skulker and the other ghosts do your dirty work..gathering materials from the ghost zone to enhance your ghost hunting machinery and in turn make More money without ever having to Get your hands dirty.”

The halfa shrugged 

Vlad:”It's just business,I prefer to only use my ghostly abilities when the situation requires to.A While back I realized that you would probably need my direct help for this grand mission of yours.”

Technus:”Grand mission,how much has Skulker told you?”

Vlad scoffs 

Vlad:”Oh Skulker had managed to keep a very tight lip on most of the important information Especially after Daniel got his powers. All he let me know was that after his plans were completed and the boy was secured I'd be rewarded handsomely and I never pressed further.”

Technus:”So if Skulker never told you anything,what are you going on about?”

Vlad:”please, you really think i haven't figured out what you need young Daniel for?”

Technus :”how would you know what we need him for?”

A chuckle escapes from Vlads mouth.

Vlad:”You see, I'm a rather smart man and I love my research. The boy is the key to the Else Awareness isn't he?. I know how to take you there... “

 Technus Froze, He couldn't believe what he was hearing could this human have really figured out their plans?He looked over to Skulker who hadn't batted an eye,he was simply waiting to know more and Vlad,who was feeling confident that he had the high ground approached Skulker with full intent to give it to him.Eventually Technus recovered from his trance like state and spoke up.

Technus:”how do you know what the Else Awareness is? it's supposed to be a myth!!” 

Vlad grew increasingly amused by the ghost's floundering. Contrary to the polite and patient demeanor he had in his human form as a ghost he reviled In watching beings who he viewed as below him squirm under his influence and right now he was having the time of his life.

Vlad:”if a myth was able to produce such a reaction from you,I fear to see how You would behave when faced with the truth.”

He walks over to Skulker's empty throne and sits down feeling quite confident in his position. His ego was inflated even more when the Hunter did nothing to stop or oppose him; he just waited in anticipation of what Vlad had to say next.

Vlad:”A long time ago I realized that Skulker's partnership with me had to have had more benefits to him than simply turning A blind eye to his antics on earth..so I did some digging in both the human and ghost world and I eventually arrived at this conclusion. What is so valuable that the greatest hunter in the ghost zone would go through the lengths of allying himself with a known, ghost hunter to get?It would have to be something that wasn't easily attainable,something that you couldn't just find in the ghost zone.Then after that I wondered why you'd seek me out specifically.  Yes it could be for my wealth and influence,but after working with you for a while I knew it could never be that ,I understand that you sought me out because somehow, someway you managed to figure out that I was a halfa.”

Skulker simply grunted.

Vlad:”But you didn't hunt me,surely a ghost and human hybrid would've been the perfect prey but that wasn't it either so I dug a bit deeper and scoured through all the ancient texts I learned of the Else Awareness and that's when I knew for certain what you were after.”

Taken aback at what was excellent deductive reasoning on Vlads part, Technus quickly jumped on the defensive.

Technus:”You have no idea what you're talking about,The Else Awareness is nothing but a rumor!!”

Enraged at the Ghosts constant Denial Vlad lashed back.

Vlad:”Do you take me for a joke?”Why else would you seek me out!? Why else would a Hunter like Skulker pass up the ultimate prey not once but twice!!?? It's because You need a halfa to gain access to it. I'm guessing that's why you sought me out at first but you quickly realized my willingness to betray my human side for personal gain made me ineligible for the task. Then Daniel got his powers and began pursuing heroics, so you once again jumped at the cause.But young Daniel wouldn't be too keen on being your tool So you asked Me to jump in hoping that I could sway him. Am I right or Am I right?”

A grin grows on Skulkers face this human was clever and he respected that,this entire time Skulker thought he was stringing Vlad along,but he couldn't have been more wrong Vlad had been in control since the very beginning everything had just been Vlad feigning ignorance on his side until Skulker had no choice but to let him in on his plan.While he hated being used even Skulker had to admit it was very crafty.

Skulker :”how do you know the location of the Else Awareness?”

Vlad :”because I've seen it with my own eyes.”

Enraged by Vlads words, Technus seized him by his collar thinking that Vlad was mocking him.

Technus”:do you take us for fools!!? How could you have seen the Else awareness!!? Not even residents of the ghost zone have found it!”

With ease Vlad pushes the ghost off of him  and dusts himself off.

Vlad:”as I predicted you know very little of what you seek. Your higher ups would be very ashamed.” 

Technus: “what do you mean?” 

Vlad:”Think about it...the ghost zone Is a flipside of earth correct?”

Technus nodded.

Vlad:”And the Else awareness is in the ghost zone right?”

Skulker :”where are you going with this?”

Vlad:”I'm saying that surely the Else awareness has to have an equivalent in the human world.”

Skulker :”how do you know this?”

Vlad pulls out his phone and shows Skulker and technus pictures of a worn out looking book.. The book had a gold clasp on it and a picture of a skull with one eye. 

Skulker :”What is this?” 

Vlad :”more proof that you 2 are  fools. This is the Spectral Archive. Everything there is to know about the ghost zone is in this book..” 

Technus:”That book has been lost for ages. How'd you get it?”

Vlad:”In my many travels, whilst doing research on ghosts in the human and ghost worlds I stumbled upon it...it's missing a few pages now.. But it's intact enough that I've managed to locate the human world equivalent of the Else awareness.:

Skulker:”where is it?”

Vlad:”haunted Hallows....:

Meanwhile back at haunted hallows the trio were relaxing outside after a long day of training. 

Tucker :”So Sam , I've been meaning to ask you, why'd you pick this place as our hideout?”

Sam:”mmm?”

Tucker:”I mean you said that they have numerous other houses at different locations right, so why this one? Surely there had to be others further from where we lived right?”

Sam sat up from her lounge chair and turned to face the two boys.. 

Sam:”Part of the reason is because sure it's close but it's also uninhibited noone around to bother us.”

Dan:”That makes sense,and the other part?”

 Sam:”alright I'll tell you but promise you won't freak..”

Dan:”I'm literally a freak soo....”

Sam:”soo my parents used to bring me to this specific house a lot after we moved,i guess it was their favorite out of all of them or something But as a kid I noticed a lot of freaky shit happening.. People disappearing, creatures lurking around at night, animals floating all kinds of freaky shit. This was actually where I saw my first ghost and as I got older the shit I saw got freakier.”

Dan:”that is freaky”

Sam:”After my parents died I visited here a couple more times. I began doing some investigating as to why this place seemed like a haunting hotspot and I found out that this entire village is coated in the same energy that ghosts let out.”

Dan:”this place is lined with ecto energy?”

Tucker:”But that's not possible is it?”

Sam:”it shouldn't be, but after more research I found out that this place isn't even really on the map.. Like the spot on the map that would be haunted hallows is just an empty plot of Forrest.when I asked my Gran how my folks found this place and she said that they just stumbled on it one”

Tucker:”So it doesn't exist?”

Sam:”more like it shouldn't exist... In our realm that is?”

Dan and Tucker were awestruck. What could she mean by that? Where was she getting this information?And what did this mean for them?Luckily, they didn't have to wait long for an answer.Sam went into the house and soon reemerged holding pages that looked similar to the ones from the book Vlad talked about. 

Sam:”These pages are from some Ancient ghost book. I was looking through Dan's parents notes and I found them…at first glance they looked like random scribbles but when I looked over them again I found out that this place is actually in the ghost zone!”

Dan:”What do you mean ? How are we in the ghost zone?”

Tucker:”Danny I don't think she means we're literally in the ghosts zone, I think she means that this place belongs in the ghost zone..”

Sam nodded

Dan:”So what? it moved from the ghost zone to the human realm. How is that even possible?”

Sam:”I don't know? But according to these pages this place is the key to finding some place called the Else awareness..”

Dan:”So you brought us here to look for it?” 

She shakes her head

Sam:”if it is what the pages make it out to be then chances are he doesn't even know it exists,which means it's not likely that he'd find us here.”

Dan picks up the pages and glances over them.. 

Dan:”The Else awareness, I wonder what's in there.”

To be continued 

We back at it!! it's been a minute since the last one but i'm back!

nothing but lore dumps this chapter but i hope you guys enjoy. Also Technus is revealed he just looks like a dirty man

Also first official appearance of Vlad plasmius as well

READ the other released Chapters here.

[rissararity]

It Just Needs a Little...Shaping! -Bob Reynolds X Thunderbolt!Reader

Bob is full of so much magic and feels hopeless about learning to use it. In your Avenger days, you had your own magic, were known to have incredible power and joined Doctor Strange on several of his own missions.

Sentry's power is untapped, untamed...but you think it just needs a little...shaping.

You're the bow, he's the arrow

Word count: 1,043

In which - you, an ex-Sorceress- help your friend Bob control his magic in a sweet, supportive way. The team is proud and a group hug ensues.

You and Bob are slowing falling for each other/idiots in love, there's little hints at that. Writing Yelena is so fun! Found family vibes!

“It's too hard! I can’t do it!” Frustrated, Bob threw his hands down. “I'm such a failure!”

The mug he’d been trying very hard to levitate simply changed color from orange to blue before your very eyes.

You were quick to pat his back and reassure him that magic based on emotions was very hard to control.

Before you’d lost your powers, you’d gone through a lot of guilt, pain and therapy before you’d gotten to be the Avenger everyone knew and loved.

The masses here had no idea of the multiversal blood on your hands. An entire world that no longer existed because you had one bad breakdown.

One slip up covered you in invisible blood that stained in a way you couldn’t describe.

You would do everything you could to make sure Bob didn’t go down the same path.

Sentry certainly had the same, Will driven, do whatever you want kind of magic you once did.

“Hmm…”

He peaked over at you, baggy sweater sleeves slightly tear stained as he wiped his face a final time.

“Maybe you just need some help to…direct it. Maybe…” you started to pick at your lower lip as you put together your thoughts, dully feeling Bob pull your hand away before you peeled the skin and drew blood.

Again.

His much larger hand kept a hold on your dominant one, feeling how your fingertips twitched and you still tried to pick despite it.

Bob’s grip tightened ever so slightly to keep you from slipping out while he watched the gears turn in your head.

Your eyes skimmed over your handwich, then up and down both your forearm and his.

He noticed you refocus, feeling excitement in his stomach when you looked up at him with a renewed spark in your eyes.

“Maybe I can sort of….guide it. If you feed your magic into me -just a little bit – I think I can…shape it.”

“Is that safe? Will it work?”

You shrugged, “I’ve done similar things in the past. I know you don’t know much about…who I was but trust me…a little bit of Sentry’s magic won’t hurt.”

You brought your other hand up the back of the one on the bottom of yours, pressing together.

A bright smile lit up your face, nudging him a little with your shoulder. “We can do this! Let’s give it a try! I’ll help you.”

A light dusting of pink entered his cheeks, small nod making his long, dark hair dance around them.

A striking, white ring formed in his iris’ as your support instilled the confidence he needed.

He rolled up his sweater sleeves, showing surprisingly toned, milky forearms.

Not wanting to risk ruining the moment by making him ask, you held out your non-dominant hand.

Bob was a little too eager to take it, sandwiching it between his own again and visibly a bit surprised at it's size.

Heat shot up your arm at the touch, you assumed it was Sentry's magic going from his body to yours.

Admittedly, it was magic but not the kind you thought.

You inhaled sharply as a rush of energy came to you, pupils dilating as your body re-learned how to handle magic; Like plugging in an old refrigerator for the first time in years.

Bob watched a similar ring appear in your eyes for a couple of seconds, calm and unaware of the risk you were taking for him.

You had no idea if your body could still handle magic, physically. You could have exploded into ichor on contact from the inside out.

Luckily, the ‘fridge still works!

It only took a couple of seconds but, for you, it felt like several minutes had passed by the time you felt his magic flow through your pipes like it belonged there.

Turning your gaze on the mug, you held out a hand the way you once did and used the magic Bob was feeding you to make the ceramic slowly lift from the counter.

Cheers came from both of you, your shouts of joy gathering the curious ears of a couple of your teammates.

When Yelena, Alexi and Bucky entered the kitchen, they witnessed you turning the mug different colors at Bob's gleeful request – all while it hovered a foot off the counter.

Both of you had huge smiles on your faces and genuine happiness in your eyes.

“Glad to see you’re making progress.” Bucky offered, aware he wasn’t good at this sort of thing.

“Making progress?! They’re in here kicking ass and doing actual magic!”

You set the mug down as Yelena came over with her arms wide, letting her take both you and Bob in them.

He hesitated for just a second before putting his arms around the two of you, still smiling.

“You guys are amazing! I’ve seen a lot of technology…some reeeeally fucked up shit, honestly,” she glanced over at Alexi, who shrugged and nodded, “But magic I just cannot believe exists! That’s so cool!”

The large man joined the hug, putting his daughter in the middle and easily encircling your and Bob’s shoulders while Yelena shifted to hug your waists.

“And our friends can use it! Together, there is nothing you can’t do!”

Bob’s chuckle of joy warmed all of your hearts as you were squeezed.

“Oh no you don’t, Barnes. Group hugs are mandatory. I don’t know what this is about but I’m in!”

You all looked over to see John enter and stop Bucky who’d tried to weasel out while the group was distracted.

He pretended not to like the hugs, but you all knew he got just as much from them as the rest of the team.

And that’s why he rolled his eyes and immediately turned back on his heel to hide his grin from the other super soldier, then came over to join the group hug with confidence.

Bucky draped himself around you and Alexi, cool metal of his arm going around your lower back.

When John wrapped around Bob’s back you felt his arm cross your shoulder blades, pulling you a little closer to Yelena who happily tipped her head back to have room to breathe.

You agreed with her.

The minor suffocation was well worth it.

[livinglyfeincolour]

Wayne Enterprises Masquerade Gala

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

~~~~~

Bruce insisted on her attendance, the press already practically blinding her for the past hour or so as she politely avoids too much socializing and allowing her father to take the reins for most of the interactions.

Her mind is plenty occupied elsewhere, she hasn't seen Jason in days.

As for how she ended up on the dance floor without a drink, with a stranger whose name didn’t even register in the short interaction, she’s not sure. Added on with the mysterious atmosphere of the masked event, maybe his inappropriately placed hand resting on the small of her back was fueling to the fire that was her faltering patience with the entire night.

She can't stand events like these, a waste of time and she won't stop saying it until Bruce stops making her attend.

“Excuse me, sir.” A low rumbling voice from behind her stuns their awkward dance. “I was promised the next dance.”

Before she can blink she feels a gentle hand reach around her waist to turn her with a few steps away from the stranger, and her eyes land on a tall broad form handsomely dressed in a fitted black sleek suit.

Her hands raise instinctively towards his chest as her gem around his neck barely peaks out of his collar, and her eyes lift slowly to meet Jason’s dark deep blue half lidded eyes behind a pointed black eye mask.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, alley cat.” She whispers as he tangles his hand over hers on his chest, and pulls her in closer with a tight grip around her waist.

“I’ve been waiting over an hour for you to tell me that, these events throw off your focus.” His smirk is evident as his fingers softly play with the thin fabric of her dress. “Remind me to pull up Vale’s article so I can print out the photos.”

“Your lucky press was removed 20 minutes ago, someone could see you.”

“You’re just worried Bruce will see me.” His finger points out to tap on her nose with a hungry look in his eyes.

“If you’ve been watching me for over an hour, he already saw you.” She corrects quietly as he sways them slowly with the music.

“In that case.” Jason slightly lets out in a laugh, his eyes deviously scanning the lingering eyes on them room before tucking her close into his side and walking her out of the ballroom.

 

He walked her quickly through the halls, turning enough corners that when he finally pressed her into the wall and help the back of her head to block from harsh contact to the wall her chest fluttered. “I miss seeing you dress up like this.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Her head tips slightly to the side, feeling his grip tangle into her hair from the back of her neck.

Strategically, the idea made sense.

Sneaking off from the event would make the Wayne’s reputation do nothing but speculate, he could scoop her away somewhere no one would find them.

Unless of course the never-ending security was inconveniently completing their routes around this area, which the close sounding footsteps alert them to.

Jason’s groan was quiet as his eyes look around, landing on a supplies closet a few doors down from them as he almost lifts her around the waist to move them into it quickly.

This closet is  so  fucking  small.

His finger lays across her lips as he hushes her gasp at the closeness of the security walking by, his leg sliding slowly between her thighs.

Her eyes bore into his, but instead of pulling back his thigh pushes up higher between her legs with a devious smirk before his lips hungrily engulf hers.

The small breath of resolve being completely swallowed by his determination as the muscle of his leg presses tight against her center.

Jason’s breath felt hot, fevered.

His tongue greedily dancing along hers as his long calloused fingers ran down her throat, then began to glide down the fabric of her dress down the center of her chest to start bunching up the fabric out of the way of the front of her legs.

Once she felt the cool breeze hit her upper thigh, her body instinctively shifts but his grip moves to hold her hip tightly with the bunched-up fabric at her side, leaving the most sensitive part of her lower abdomen bare and now firmly pressed against his thigh.

Now his movements were purposeful, her body betraying her confidence as she feels the slight wobble of her legs, but that only seems to further his expression as she feels the full length of him pressing into her side while his thigh starts to rub teasingly against her in an agonizingly slow rate.

His small nibble on her bottom lip lets a little whimper of pleasure escape her lips as his eyes dilate almost fully on hers. Something in the absolute fluster of how delicious he looked, made her fingers fidget along his belt buckle her mouth falling open slightly as he growls against her lips.

“My good girl.” His voice rattles down her spine, her core tightening as her eyes darken when the final clasp between her and her pride is undone.

His hands grip tight on both hips, lifting her to grab under her thighs to wrap around him and gently press her into the wall for better control.

“Fuck – “ His jaw clenches as he rips his belt off to pull himself free of his pants.

The center of her core is already wet, pressing into the length of him as her hips grind up and down with a desperate kind of sound escaping her lips.

She gasps once he starts to push into her but his lips meet hers with a hunger almost matching her own… his hips bucking once she feels all of him sink into her opening.

The noises he makes against her neck make her desire flutter over her skin, her mind taking it to memory.

His hands on her are surprisingly gentle as his thrusts rapidly pick up the pace.

Cupping around her breast before letting his thumb run slowly over her nipple and moaning quietly as her walls tighten around him, her back arches and his other arm wraps around her lower back to keep her pressed into him.

When he breaks the kiss everything else starts to blur out of existence, her head tipping back as she tries to use the wall to hold back from squeezing her thighs too tightly around him, but her core drips from her folds as he fucks into her harder and harder… his teeth along her neck and collarbone almost send her over the edge.

“Not yet, princess…” His lips vibrate on her skin as his hand slowly drags along the fabric up to her head, his fingers snaking into her hair and his thumb runs along her scalp soothingly.

Her inner walls clench desperately around him to try and hold back, her eyes rolling back as her head tips back down pressing her forehead into his. “Jason – “  She barely moans.

“You feel so fucking good – “ He stares at her as if she is the singular diversion in a lifetime of focus, a flush of red across his cheeks and puckered bottom lip where her teeth sank in… mouthwatering. “Making a mess all over me.”

Her resolve collapses, her orgasm coursing through her core and leaking onto him as his hot and heavy breath drips down her neck and his own slightly shaky final thrust fills her deep.

He follows a few harsh thrusts after, his mouth open and staring at her with a mix of awe and desire.

A few minutes of desperate grinding against each other for more, the sounds of labored breathing and creaking of the wall behind her as his lips trail along the muscle from her neck and down her shoulder.  “Beautiful girl, now I’m really going to scoop you out of here.”

[sadbunnibaby]

meeting kandi!reader ~ p.zweig & a.donaldson

summary ~ the boys meet kandi!reader  word count ~ 1.3k warnings ~ drug use

Art hated clubbing. He hated the loud music, and those stroke inducing strobe lights. He hated the smell of alcohol and the lingering scent of sweat. He disliked being pushed and thrown against strangers under the guise of dancing. And most of all he hated the people who seemed to make their whole personality about being a club kid. He found it entirely insufferable. 

Patrick on the other hand couldn’t get enough, he seemed to be drawn to the club for all the reasons Art was against it. He loved practically groping random people, and getting so shitfaced he wasn’t sure if he was dancing or seizing. That’s why he dragged Art along tonight, in hopes that maybe Art would change his stance on the club scene. But Art wasn’t having it, he stood off to the side, nursing a beer and sporting a wicked glare. Patrick was dancing near him, attempting to drag him into the absurdity of it all but he refused. That was until something, or rather someone caught his eye. 

She was dancing, crazily he might add. Hands and hair flying everywhere. She looked wild, her pupils blown and her short skirt riding further and further up her thighs. But she was lost in the moment, no other care in the world except for the bass of the music, and the way her body moved with it. It was enticing, mesmerizing, and fuck he couldn’t look away. Patrick followed Art’s intense gaze onto the girl and smirked in response.

“Not happening, plus I thought you were against club girls.” He mused, tilting his beer bottle towards the girl. “I didn’t-” Art scoffed, unsure of what to say. He was caught off guard by her, and her energy. It left his thoughts scattered, and previous notions about girls like her out the wind. “I don’t dislike all of them. She’s just…” He trails off, with a soft chuckle. 

“Hot as fuck? Yeah dude, I know.” Patrick bit his lip admiring the girl. “Let’s go dance with her.” He said turning to Art. Art shook his head in response. There was no way he’d be caught dancing, even if it was with her. 

The idea of her was better to him. He wanted to keep her like this in his mind. A girl he didn’t know truly, just some wild fantasy he could lock away and save for later. If he met her, talked to her…danced with her, the illusion would shatter and he’d have no control over the situation. He didn’t like that.

“I’m good, but by all means go ahead.” Art said, throwing out his hands, gesturing to the girl. Patrick patted Art on the back, silently letting him know he was going to go for it. Patrick pushed his way through dancing and drunk people, until she was finally close enough to touch. 

“Hey, I’m Patrick!” He yelled over the loud music. She laughed and continued to dance. She wasn’t brushing him off…just yet, which in Patrick’s mind was a win. He started to dance with her, getting closer, and eventually leaning into her ear. “What’s your name?” She didn’t answer, just smirked, and threw her arms around his neck pulling him closer. 

Patrick could smell her, the scent of her sickly sweet perfume, alcohol tainting her glossy lips. The colored lights framed her face, making her look otherworldly, ethereal even. His eyes were drawn to her nose, and the very faint white powder that seemed to linger. He laughed, raised his thumb and brushed it off. 

“I’ll call you Kandi, on account of well..” He didn’t need to finish his sentence, she knew what he was talking about. Her fingers went to her nostril, and she laughed. 

“I like that, Kandi..” She tossed the name around in her mouth, getting a feel for it. “Patrick was it?” He nodded. “Hm, well you’re cute…and an okay dancer.” He took the compliment with pride, dragging his hands over her body. His fingers splayed out over her waist, toying with the soft, pink fabric of her top. He was enjoying this more than he thought. Patrick grabbed her tighter, spinning her around, so her back was to him. She took the invitation, and started dancing into him. Patrick smirked at her enthusiasm, dancing deeper into her. He turned his head, locking eyes with Art who seemed to be mildly pissed off, and gave him a big ole thumbs up, as Kandi grinded her ass into him. 

“Who’s that?” Kandi asked, watching the blonde boy, who was currently rolling his eyes. Patrick smiled. 

“My friend, Art. He’s…not into the whole club thing. But I think it’s just ‘cause he can’t dance.” Patrick answered, in hopes his comment might deter any interest she might have in Art. Not that he thought Art was any competition, especially with a girl like Kandi. He just couldn’t handle her, and besides the last thing he wanted was some coke head girl corrupting Art.

“He’s cute… call him over.” 

Art watched the whole scene. He couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but he didn’t need to. He could see Patrick’s charm winning her over. It’s not like he was jealous, she was more Patrick’s type than his anyways. But something stirred in his stomach, he was used to Patrick and girls, but she seemed different. Like she had the ability to shake up their friendship, to fuck up everything that was built on years of trust and camaraderie. So when Patrick waved him over, he had the full intention of breaking up whatever was going on, and dragging Patrick away from her manicured grasp. 

“So you’re Art?” She says, giving him a once over. Art felt his mouth go dry, god she was even hotter close up. He admired her hot pink top, and her too tight mini skirt. Stacks of bracelets clattered around on her wrists, and her nails were nicely painted with pink glitter.  But he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

“Yeah and you are?” Art asked, trying to maintain a level of animosity. Patrick saw through him easily. 

“Callin’ her Kandi.” Patrick says from behind her, tapping his nostril with his finger. Art furrowed his brows, confused about the nickname. He stared at Kandi, and after taking a good look at her eyes, he put two and two together. 

“Right cause of the…” He trailed off not wanting to call her out, but she happily answered for him. 

“Coke!” She grinned, like it was such a casual thing to be doing. Art shot Patrick a look saying ‘Are you serious?’. Patrick shrugged and just kept dancing with the girl. This was getting ridiculous. Art was about to ask Patrick to leave, when Kandi reached out and grabbed Art’s hand, pulling him into her. “C’mon Arty, dance.” 

When she whispered those words, he realized Patrick wasn’t the one charming Kandi, no he had it all wrong. The girl was actually charming his best friend. A rare, but nonetheless intriguing occurrence. So putting aside all his previous notions, he relented. She asked him to dance, and how could he say no. After all, if Patrick was being wooed by her, there must be something special about this girl.  

 Art stood in front of her, attempting to dance, but his nerves were getting the best of him. He was so hesitant before, almost frustrated, but when she draped her arms around him, he seemed to lose focus of any previous goals about leaving, and just gave in to the moment. 

The music flowed around them, Art in front, Patrick in the back and Kandi sandwiched between the two boys. Art lost himself, in her smell and the softness of her skin, everything about her was breaking down his walls further and further. And when he saw Patrick practically melting in euphoria, how could he not have a good time.

it's here! the boys meet kandi!reader

i wasn't sure if i should write this in third or second pov…so if you think it'd be better in 2nd let me know!

there will be plenty more kandi!reader fics coming up, more detailed too.

thank you! 

[ofmagicallonging]

"I prefer my ass being fucked, master." Sun responded. "Its where boys are fucked and I'd rather have less pleasure and be treated the same as any boy." Honesty had got him this far and he wasn't about to drop it now. But he couldn't deny the pleasure he was getting. The perfect spot, the stroking, it was all forcing him closer to an orgasm. He moaned loud enough for it echo as the spot was hit again. His entire body trembled in reaction from it.

"Please master. I want that more than anything." Sun pleaded. He'd started to get an idea that Kian liked him pleading and begging, so he was trying to make a more conscious effort to do that. "Please, I'll let you do anything in return to me for that. You can make me scream as much as you want in return." He could feel the new magic pushing through him, not that he fully understood it or how to use it. But the presence of it felt different. "I want that, master. I want that."

Sun looked away from the boys as he got more embarrassed by the comments. The tears had welled back in his eyes and he was now a bright shade of red. All made worse by the fact he was moaning away from what Kian did to him. He could only imagine what they were going to go away and say to the others.

His moans got louder and more frequent the harder Kian got. His entire body quivered as that g spot was hit and pleasure shot through him. "Ahhh, master" he yelled out in pleasure. He knew the question was to humilate him further andnthe way it took him longer to reply just showed how embarrassed he was. "Yes." He said through gritted teeth and as quickly as he could. He was even close to an orgasm from how much he was enjoying this, not that he was ready to admit that verbally. But the way he clenched around the cock completely gave him away.